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 Lamar, Missouri. 
 
 South-VVest Missourian Print. 
 
 1890. 
 
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 ^'P/^/ 8 1891 ^ 
 
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 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1891, by 
 
 G. H. WALSER, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
Mine has been a busy life, devoted to the first duty of 
 providing for my family and the winters of old age. Through 
 industry, I am now able to think that I have enough to keep 
 the wolf from the door of myself and wife, (my family, now), 
 provided we act with prudence and economy. All persons 
 at the age of fifty should have that; to have less is a mistake, 
 to have more is a sin. 
 
 In arranging my affairs for retiring from active business, 
 I have exhumed from my old portfolio, the musings of Lei- 
 sure Hours, covering the period of many years, which I 
 wish to preserve for the pleasure they afforded me in their 
 production. To do that, I have concluded to reproduce 
 them in book form. 
 
 But few of the ensuing poems have ever been pubHshed, 
 and, I am sure the public does not know me as a rhymester, 
 much less as a poet, the honor of which I can scarcely hope 
 of receiving. Many can write rhymes; but few can write 
 poetry. Poetry consists in clothing elevating thoughts in 
 chaste and rhythmic language. If I have succeeded in do- 
 ing that, I will feel that the presentation of this volume is not 
 presumptuous. If I have failed, in the estimation of the 
 public, my ftelings of pride will be wounded to some degree. 
 Yet, with all that, I will have enough left for our famil}^. 
 
 I have written as subjects have presented themselves to 
 me; and endeavored to picture them on paper as they im- 
 pressed themselves on my mind, without reference to mv 
 individual convictions. There will be found, woven in these 
 poems. Atheistic, Spiritualistic and Christian thoughts. They 
 were written for their beauty and suggestive thoughts. \ 
 find beauty, love, sublimity and usefulness all around me 
 and among every people, sect and denomination. The great 
 differences are in thoughts, not in facts. 
 
 It affords me exquisite pleasure to get in rapport with 
 the highest conceptions of the good and becoming, wherever 
 they may be found. Such has been my aim in the produc- 
 tion of this book. 
 
 With my best wishes for all and malice for none, I send 
 this adventurer forth. 
 
 G. H. Walser. 
 
 Liberal, Missouri. 
 

 ©en^s el ueisupc. 
 
 FAREWELL TO THE BAR. 
 
 Farewell to the bar! farewell to the cases I 
 Farewell to the rolls my memory embraces! 
 I leave thee forever, with many regrets, 
 And joys behind none ever forgets. 
 
 Around thee there cluster the fondest of ties. 
 Successes with laughter, defeats with their sighs ; 
 And all rounding up, with battles completed. 
 With someone as victor, someone defeated. 
 
 It is not the battle that soldiers reflect. 
 The sword that is used is the keen intellect; 
 And the scars that leave their red traces behind. 
 Are made by the keen rapier of the mind. 
 
 The fields o' thy prowess have infinite changes, 
 Thy scope is the bounds where intellect ranges : 
 With all the perfections, at every flaw, 
 The barrister stands in the bloom of the law. 
 
 In all enterprises that mankind attends. 
 Of whatever nature, the law comprehends, 
 Be them the most humble or abject in tone, 
 The law is as vigil as ruling a throne. 
 
 Man's rights were proscribed by the whims of the rex. 
 In the days of whilom, but now it is lex 
 That spreads its arm over all, ample and strong. 
 And a remedy gives for each human wrong. 
 
 The farm and the workshop, the forge and the mill, 
 Whatever of labour, of science, or skill. 
 Of trade e'en small; or, great enterprises, 
 For pleasure, or profit, the law supervises. 
 
 It plods with the cartman and flies with the train, 
 It sports with the shallop and plows the broad main. 
 It ticks with the telegraph and speaks with the pen, 
 And the press that paints greatness on very small men. 
 
Pjcms of Incisure. 
 
 "Tis the guide of the judge', demure and sedate. 
 And it reigns supreme in the councils of state. 
 And rules with the fiat of one in command, 
 Ev'ry action of man, on sea, or on land- 
 It guards ev'ry right and curbs ev'ry wrong, 
 Meets even justice to the weak and the strong. 
 Demolishes rank and pretense everywhere, 
 And makes ev'ry man ev'ry other man's peer. 
 
 The why of this all is of easy discerning. 
 The law is the acme of reason and learning; 
 And gives each his meed, without favor or fear. 
 When a lawyer is placed at the helm to steer. 
 
 Farewell to the bar and statute prox'isions! 
 Farewell to the bench and its crispv decisions I 
 Farewell to keen j^vbes and forensic foolin<vs. 
 And gauling rebukes by hot-headed rulings! 
 
 Farewell to the noblest of noble professions! 
 Farewell to praecipes and declarations. 
 To pleas, replies, leioindt rs and rt butters. 
 Likewise surrejoinders and surrebutters! 
 
 Demurrers and motions (id iiijiiiitnc/e. 
 
 Holes in tlie practice, through which scoundrels ekuU^ 
 
 The vigils of Astrea, who sees with awe. 
 
 Rogues hvonorable made by evading the law. 
 
 And all of the phases and technical terms. 
 
 At which justice recoils and roguery vearns, 
 
 I lea\'e to attorneys more wily than I, 
 
 Whose conscience are caught by the size of the fee. 
 
 The forum, where logic and sophistry blend 
 To make a dull jury a point comprehend, 
 Where Justice is baffled and glories are won. 
 And el()c]uence killed by the point of a pun. 
 
 Farewell to the members who honor the bar! 
 The force of your worth is felt everywhere, 
 The crown of vour glory can ev'ryone see, 
 And surelv \'ou need no encomium from me. 
 
 Genial of mind and of manners polite. 
 Acute of discernment and sticklers for right. 
 And all the prime \-irtues bow at your command. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 You rule all the world with your heart in your hand. 
 
 Your brain is the fountain of ever}' field 
 To the bearing of which, all others must yield; 
 In great undertakings your council is sought. 
 At the fount of your mind all satiate draught. 
 
 Trusts of all kinds are reposed to your keeping. 
 Secrets of hearts you are never repeating. 
 Loads that are borne on the face of a breath 
 x\re given to 3'ou in the presence of death. 
 
 Wealth, favors and fortunes are placed in your care. 
 Responsible trusts that no others can bear, 
 With the guarantee only from you in return, 
 ^rhe bar has an honor no power can turn. 
 
 In contests for right are ever aggressive, 
 In proper reforms are always progressive; 
 You never complain that the world goes too fast. 
 Or bridle the future with th' tail of the past. 
 
 Yes ! in turning away my lingering mind 
 Goes back to the scenes it is leaving behind; 
 With many regrets, sad, that Time will renew. 
 With my heart entombed in this long, last adieu. 
 
 THE CASCADE. 
 
 I gazed on the breaks of a cascade 
 
 And felt an emotion sublime. 
 As I saw it leap down a great facade. 
 
 That looked like the brother of Time. 
 The scaur that reached high above us 
 
 Held back the impress of a tarn. 
 Whose bosom supported the lotos, 
 
 Whose verge wore trousseau of fern. 
 
 I gazed on the waters down leaping. 
 And the rock-rooted trees overhead. 
 
 Whose moan in the high winds were keeping 
 In tune with the cataract mad. 
 
 I looked, and above the clear fountain. 
 Above the tall trees bending o'er. 
 
 And saw in the backgs'round a mountain 
 
 o 
 
 That kissed the cerulean shore. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 I turned with the cataract's roar 
 
 And saw it rush on to the phiin, 
 Which caught its mad pkmge from the scaur 
 
 And bore it away to the main. 
 And as it rolled on to the ocean, 
 
 Its fret and its gnarl passed away 
 And sank to a gentler motion, 
 
 A grave and sublimer display. 
 
 It moved with a harmonic union. 
 
 With a grandeur and beauty complete. 
 1\) join in fraternal communion 
 
 The far reaching swell of the deep ; 
 Whose face leads away to the distance 
 
 Where the sky and the ocean meet; 
 Where the waves with becomin"; obeisance 
 
 Kiss Heaven's cerulean feet. 
 
 And I thouijht of the driftinfj of Youth ; 
 
 Of his source next to Heaven complete, 
 Of his eschewing the mandates of truth 
 
 And his plunge o'er the precipice steej) ; 
 And then of the lont; rollin(r vears. 
 
 Of moil and regrets of the past, 
 Of his sorrows that burn into tears: 
 
 His reachinsf for Heaven at last. 
 
Poems of Incisure. 
 HESTER AND PHILO— A TRANCE. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The tacts forming the basis of the following narrative 
 were partly given to me by a person who experienced the 
 journey to the great abyss of chaos while he was in a trance. 
 
 Many good people believe in the duality of man. and 
 that the spirit, while in a trans-condition, doesgo on vast jour- 
 neys, and in some instances it retains in the mind impres- 
 sions of the places and scenes it visited. 
 
 Some of the narrative is imaginative and some drawn 
 from the Buddhistic religion and some from the Philosophy 
 of Spiritualism. 
 
 The production of the narrative has given me much 
 pleasurable speculation, and if its perusal inspires a kindred 
 j:)leasure, my work will not have been in vain. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 \Vho hath not felt the eyes of young love pierce 
 His inner self, like tiery darts of pleasure? 
 Who hath not felt his yearning breast aflame 
 At a word; and a sweet smile, like a fierce 
 
 Dagger, course his ev'ry nerve with the measure 
 Of ecstatic joy, again and again? 
 
 II. 
 Hester's large, brown eyes were the counterpart 
 Of Heaven. All of earth was in her smile; 
 All of bliss was in her voice. Her presence 
 lirought that electric glow that only a heart, 
 A captive, lead by love, can feel. The while 
 I a boy, she a girl, brought these pleasance. 
 
 III. 
 I never spoke of love to her; yet, there 
 Is a language too refined for the tongue. 
 
 Too expressive far for thought words to mean. 
 The language of the eye speaks its volumes. 
 Heaven wills it, the heart drinks it. Wrung 
 From the soul is that ecstatic heart-beam. 
 
 IV. I 
 
 In our school days, the apple did not well 
 Impart its flavor, did Hester have not 
 
 One. The class was dull, were we not conning 
 
lO Poems of Leism'e. 
 
 Side by side, our books. I never could tell 
 
 Why; but all seemed wrong, had Hester forgot. 
 And tardy made tlie hour of her coming. 
 
 V. '■ 
 
 At play, some how, we would be on the same 
 Side. The babbling brooklet did not its sweet 
 Music enchant the ear, if one alone 
 Was there. Oft Hester, in voice mild, would name 
 Where flowers sweet were grown. A cool retreat 
 Was loved bv both; its beauties both would o\\n. 
 
 VI., 
 
 Time, its weary length rolled on. Hester grew 
 To be a woman, I a man. The way 
 
 To school. was left, its wilders to confer 
 On others. We parted. I never knew. 
 
 And yet I knew, though never heard her say. 
 She loved. Never my tongue confessed to her. 
 
 vn. 
 Sad were the lonely, lonel}^ years that hung 
 Like a pall of death upon me. Sought I 
 Relief in the solitudes of life. Buried 
 Oft in solemn meditations, I sung 
 
 Of the weird and lonesome. In the deep sky, 
 Among the floating orbs my mind tarried. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I would look upon the nebulosity 
 
 In space and ride in mv mind, on cloud flows, 
 From whose ocean face of ether, deep-waved. 
 I would see Hester, whose v^ivacity 
 
 Of love life, kept in m}^ bosom the rose 
 
 Flush of heaven wherein my soul was graved. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Would I curse m}' dull tongue often, and blame 
 Theunquenched tire of my sad and lonely heart 
 For it, the store of words would not avail 
 Me, when her presence, so beloved, came 
 In view; and I, quite bewildered, the part 
 
 Could but play, of a tongue-tied youth, and fail. 
 
 Sore of heart; and. by unrequited love, 
 
Poems of Leisuhe. ii 
 
 Subdued in spirit, in a quiet shade 
 
 I lay m3'self adown, careworn and weak. 
 Perhaps it was to die. 1 cared not. Above 
 Hung the m^'steries of the deep. I made 
 An effort to rise, but could not, or speak. 
 
 I felt a wage like sleep on me falling — 
 
 More than sleep it seemed, m}^ nerves felt benumbed. 
 And, segregating, my flesh seemed from my- 
 Self. My senses were alive, but calling (i) 
 To my inner self, by a deep low-hummed 
 
 Voice, stirred me. It seemed afar, y^t close bv. 
 
 The voice pulled me from myself. As I went 
 Behind I cast a furtive glance and saw 
 
 My former form, upon the deep green sward, 
 Pale and death-like, lying. A smile had spent 
 Its force upon my face, wan and weird. How 
 It was, I could not tell, or speak a word. 
 
 As upon silken pinions I arose. 
 
 Like with the grace of a zephyr dancing 
 On the face of a morning sunbeam clear 
 And mild. Away I floated to the close 
 Of another scene; to me enhancing 
 
 Rich thoughts of a grander and brighter sphere. 
 
 O'er my dim eyes a translucent wave came. 
 I saw, or seem'd to see, what never I 
 
 Beheld before; cities, mountains and streams 
 Beneath me pass. The while, I heard a strain 
 Through the diapason of nature ply 
 
 Its chords, melodious, like orphean dreams. 
 
 On rushing, I seem'd to go, outstretching 
 
 Space whose capacious vastness seem'd subdu'd. 
 My care was now my left friends, whose surprise 
 Unbounded, would be to learn o' my breaching 
 The mysteries of Psyche and deep solitude, 
 Where dead men in formless forms arise. 
 
12 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But I rush'd on unconscious of the where, 
 
 Or how. Lakes, oceans and continents pass'd 
 And I, as a lost bird, pinion 'd for flight 
 Kternal. onward sped. Voiced from San Poo fair. 
 I bent my course; and, on a recluse cast 
 Mv eye in Himalaya's topmost height. 
 
 xvn. 
 There, in the deep voice of solitude (2) 
 Adepts of the black art abide in caves, 
 
 And, from their dark, sepulchral homes emerge. 
 To greet a stranger with th' solicitude 
 Of interested inquiry, which saves 
 
 One the trouble of an acquaintance to urge. 
 
 xvni. 
 Among them, I was a timorous man. 
 
 Scarce knowing, a tongue I had, or, could speak 
 My cause. But, ere my senses mustered up 
 Fair courajie. the one, weirdest of the clan 
 
 Breathed on my ear, in accents low and weak. 
 That I should go with him where Time was not. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Surprised and bewilder' d at what I heard, 
 A feeling of doubt, father of distrust. 
 
 Enwoof'd mv mind. As I fathomed his speech 
 I felt it untrue, although not a word 
 Parted mv lips, but I felt that it must 
 A vagarv be he desired to reach. 
 
 XX. 
 
 I see from vour mind, my words 3'OU distrust .•" 
 Procleus, in voice, most musical said: 
 
 '•Without further doubting, give me your 
 Hand and then we'll away to the uttermost 
 Bound of the universe, beyond the spread 
 Of day, where the deep, fathomless shore 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Of darkness, was born: there will be no earth : 
 The sun will go out and the constellation 
 Of bright stars and all those jeweled lists 
 Of night will fade away and give birth. 
 Again, to Chaos, whose habitation (3) 
 Is the catah'sis of cosmic mists. 
 
Poetns of Leisure. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 We arose. The air seemed tongued and did speak 
 In strains of eloquence, heard not before. 
 It seemed to stir my blood and move my 
 Soul by impressions unspeakable. Weak, 
 Too weak is mind to hold, or e'en explore 
 In thought, the mysteries chaotic that lie 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Anterior to the all great world life 
 
 Of matter. We are lost, lost in mind grasp, 
 At the immensity of that winding 
 Sheet that threw its sable folds of night, rife 
 With eternal blackness, across the gaps 
 Of Chaos, which lies beyond our finding. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The astral knows no bounds. Attenuate (4) 
 We were and fledged for flight beyond the lists 
 Of world hfe, on wings of thought. A mind 
 We had to soar away and not to wait 
 
 Longer for the starting; for, much I wist 
 To test our might to leave the world behind. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Our motors were our wills, for each were form'd (5) 
 With might to think and fly where we would — 
 Embodied mind, we were. With ease could fly 
 To the uttermost and then could rebound 
 
 In flight like lightning's flash through solitude. 
 Such was our procinct that the bending sky 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Held no control of us. Its vaults gave way; 
 Its azure fled on either side, as up 
 Its vastitudes we went, as borne on 
 The pinions of electric thought. Away 
 
 Bounding, out vying time. With one grand swoop 
 We left the world behind; yet, tarried long 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 That we might well th' vastness investigate, 
 Of the scenes around us. All, a wonder 
 
 Was to us. All, one great mystery seem'd, — 
 Ourselves, a mystery. To demonstrate 
 
 The great procinct of man, we wish to ponder 
 
 And as we thought, and thought, perhaps we dreamed. 
 
14 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 ^riiat we might learn the truthful histories 
 Of spheres and worlds, slowly on wings, 
 Like seraphs, for observation we rose; 
 Slv casting lingering looks on mysteries 
 
 Left behind, upon the earth, which springs 
 New and pleasing beauties as on she goes. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Watting, watting awMV on ths bosom 
 Of ether, until our world on kindred 
 Wing, the epitome of beauty seem'd. 
 We saw the golden streamlet of fulsome 
 Sun-rays setting aglow the on-wing-word 
 World with radiant strains as they gleamed. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 As we looked again, we saw up creeping 
 The purple morn, above the orient. 
 
 As evening spread upon the western verge, 
 A smile between light and darkness keeping 
 
 Pace, while laughing day his out-spread wings blent 
 The two extremes, and, night became the targe. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 I'here Old Ocean, dress* d in marine blue, lay 
 Beneath us, bearing her face to catch the tiit 
 Of evening kiss, sent dancing on the sheen 
 Wavelet from out the bosom of the sky. 
 Refluent from the chaste and argent lips 
 
 Of Cupid's own charming pride, the night queen. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 From among the glittering hosts, which, like 
 
 Lost meteors seemed, we looked and saw our own 
 World roll awav 'mid gold stars to take 
 Its place in the clear blue vaults, as a night 
 Gem in the crown of Heaven, in honor, worn, 
 Of the day-god. whose reign will never break, 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Broke the voice of Night, on the great deep, in 
 Silver strains, so bewitching, soft and slow. 
 That our minds went out in charmed reveries : 
 And our hearts were drunken with joy within. 
 To hear rhythmes of the deep so sweet and low. 
 Sending back their wild and wierd symphonies. 
 
Poems of Leisure.- 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 On, we went, as trained mariners in the 
 
 Great ocean of space, smoothly fl3'.ing. Where 
 Ere we looked, the scowling visage of Darkness 
 Was confronting us. The stars, we could see, 
 Were growing smaller, and the glowing sphere. 
 Named the sun, seemed to be dark and sightless. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Like aerolites roll'd we through ether ■ ' !■ 
 
 Frare and dark. Up, or down, we knew not. 
 So gentle our wing that inclinations 
 On us made no impression, and whither 
 Going; we could not discern, as a dot 
 
 Of iii'olden hue the world our calculations. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Thwarted, and lost we were on the tideless waste : 
 Of space; lost, amid the twirl of strange worlds. 
 And system of worlds we knew not of. 
 Our own loved birth of> spheroid had been displaced 
 And from our longing vision strayed. (8) The twirls 
 Of immensity seemed, alike, far off. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 In the depths behind, we could not discern 
 His face from golden specks of other worlds. 
 From view disappearing. All darker grew. 
 As our wingless flight vvent on. How to learn 
 Where we were, or how the nebula whirls 
 About in troubled gnarls, we did not know. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Star after star dim grew and disappeared; 
 
 The mother of darkness, dense, we could feel 
 As her sable folds about us hung; lo ! 
 Our easy flight went on to where feared 
 
 Some bourne dreadful to me; I could not wheel 
 About, for back again I could not go. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 I knew from whence we came, but did not know 
 Whither going; but yet our flight went on; 
 In circles, curves or tangents I knew not. 
 Where ere I looked, or our course might go 
 But murky blackness fill'd the dreadful throng 
 On us weighing, too ominous now for doubt. 
 
1 6 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 XL 
 
 All seems one vast Cimmerian cave; 
 
 No light flits its wing across the sable face ; 
 
 No wakmg sound stirs the fountain of the deep. 
 Death over this vast universal grave 
 
 Has spread his veil and left no lingering trace 
 Of life. All is darkness, hush'd, asleep ! 
 
 XLI. 
 
 I could not speak from fright, or sign, converse 
 As mutes. But my thoughts in thunder spoke, we 
 Are lost, and will not again the glowing 
 
 Face of the sun, or the bright universe, 
 The grandeur again of its visage, see. 
 All the while the blackness, more black was growing. 
 
 XLI I. 
 
 The heart flutter of despair in my breast 
 As if never knit, I felt; the unmoved mists 
 Of eternity, the father and mother 
 Of all horror threw around me the test 
 Of despair, intensified by the lists 
 
 Around, now too dark to see each other. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 I. 
 
 On an immense cloud we sat, of darkness. 
 
 While stillness mark'd the awful depths about us. 
 Locked in the unmoved breast of immensity — 
 Hushed was the very shadow of blackness, 
 So still that I could hear the ebb and gush 
 Of nerve, flash in its intensity. 
 
 n. 
 Our own thoughts we could hear, for expression 
 Wreathing within the portals of the head. 
 As they rushed upon us the gasp of gloom 
 Intensified our woe. Extinction 
 
 Of ourselves could not be. There were no dead 
 Memories there, or records of a tomb. 
 
 ni. 
 Procleus sat mute ; I tried to revile 
 For bringing on us this terrible ban ; 
 
 But I could not. I knew he did what he could. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 The fates, I remember, gave us a smile, 
 x\ boding most ill for the manes of a man. 
 
 As we passed the bounds of the world's sisterhood. 
 
 w . 
 I thought as I sat in grief, half dreaming, 
 I saw through the black locks of Erebus, 
 
 The flash of whose eyes a darker dark shade 
 Threw on the scene most real and seeming, 
 A lone bein<*; fast comino- toward us. 
 
 She seemed a crippled and shriveled old jade. 
 
 V. 
 
 I wondered her coming; though from her look 
 I doubted her'friendship, or good design. 
 
 Approaching, she touched, with her long finger, 
 The crown of each head, though not a word spoke 
 She, but from her distaff a silken fine 
 
 Thread she spun, most delicate and slender. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ••My errand you wish," our visitor said 
 Giving her spindle a terrible turn; 
 
 "The manes I spin for are immortal; so 
 I'm spinning for you, Hfe\s endless thread, (i ) 
 For death you wish, and ever may yearn. 
 But who remains here finds woe upon woe." 
 
 Giving her spindle another great turn 
 
 She spun a fine thread prodigiously long. 
 
 "To heed of my work, my name you should know, 
 The gods all revere me, humanity yearn 
 
 For m}" smiles and thread, with anthems and song 
 Sound loud the praise of the sister of Clotho."" 
 
 For us no change I E'en Death, sweet messenger 
 Of Peace, come not will to bring us relief I 
 Here for all eternity. Oh! sad, sad 
 Thought I We, in this thrall for aye must linger 
 
 On and live, — live for what? Ah! the dregs of grief: 
 With no hope, e'en of death, to make us glad. 
 
 Swell a drooping heart. Oh! Death, thou benign 
 Leveler of men and all things terene : 
 3 
 
i8 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 That we may comprehend thy amphtude 
 To heal the ills of liesh, the wrongs o± mind, 
 And all the anguish of the heart unseen 
 Smother'd in the breast's deep solitude; 
 
 X. 
 
 And let upon each brow be writ. 
 
 Death, man's dearest friend, linger and live 
 That we may die, and dying, leave behind 
 Those combinations of heart-aches which sit 
 Upon the throne of all, to always give 
 In recompense a promise undetined. 
 
 XI. 
 
 We there sorrowing sat, gazing into 
 
 The thorex of deep Chaos. A faint glim 
 
 Far in the murky distance, came crashing thro" 
 The dark depths of Cimmerius. A new 
 
 Hope, sister of Despair, moved me, and when 
 It a little nearer came, brought to view 
 
 XII. 
 
 The person of our coming friend, so fair. 
 
 That the fervent kiss of Morn, flush from the 
 Rosy lips of Aurora, messenger queen 
 Of health, heaven and love, still lingered there 
 And revel'd in that pure felicity. 
 
 Felt when sweet Hope frowns on Despair, I ween. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For all this time Procleus had not spoke ; 
 
 ■Between his two hands, held he, his bow'd head: 
 His eyes, like piercing darts into the deep 
 Gloom, sent a steady, intent look, unbroke 
 By the rolling folds of the great deep dead 
 Night, around whose life lay eternal sleep. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "What wist thou, Procleus friend? So close thou.. 
 In meditation art. Seest not the glim, 
 
 In yonder dark void, ploughing the misty 
 Deep, as a bird of lucid wing on the brow 
 Of Time comin<j, swiftlv?" I asked of him. 
 He then arousing, looked most wistfully. 
 
 XV. 
 
 He, up springing, said: ""To think is to be." (2) 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 I sat and thought of Vesta, morning gleam 
 Of hope; and, at last her bright face illum'd 
 INIv soul. I saw it afar. Lost were we.. 
 
 And I sent hunting through the spacious vesne 
 Of earth my thoughts, intense, and, very soon 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Across the bosom of the deep. I saw 
 
 Glimpse the thought voice of Vesta, fairest one 
 Of the celestial throng. To brino; her 
 Was to think intensely. This is the law, (3) 
 The astral, through electric thought must run 
 The wires spun from the complex woof of air. 
 
 The flesh is seen streaking the vaults of space, 
 The thought, electric, strikes the fragile nerves; 
 i\nd, as a subtle flash through space unseen, 
 
 Comes the ministering friend as in the race 
 Of time. As a kind friendly spirit serves 
 
 Your wants and needs, in manv ways, I ween. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 She, the fairest wanderer, like a o-reat 
 
 Ball, phosphoric, by some grim monster, 
 
 Through the bowels of darkness shot, came to 
 Us, and bv tongueless impression. "What fate 
 Hither sent you hath?" she said, "Who sponsor 
 Came, the universe again would know you?" 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "Know ye not, that when the pleiades* 
 
 Ye pass'd and turned 3^our backs upon the face, 
 Fair and blooming, of Arcturus, and into 
 The Arcana, you would penetrate, these 
 Dark, fathomless abodes of night, to trace 
 Again your flight was difficult to do?" 
 
 XX. 
 
 "Pra}', chide us not I With our folly intense, 
 That induced us to hither come and leave 
 
 The fair earth, with all its glow and grandeur. 
 Turning, twirling, changing without offense 
 
 Among the constellations of worlds and weave 
 Its rhomb'd path on and around, forever; 
 
20 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Forever and forever, on around 
 
 Among its kindred spheroids, unswerving, 
 Undeviating from its course in the 
 Trackless expanse of space. Well, we have found 
 Our follv."" said Procleus, "Deserving 
 
 Of punishment somewhat, l^rav, where are we.' 
 
 XX n. 
 ••Where is the end of this, the mother of 
 
 Darkness?" I'he basement, or dome, of this \ast 
 Prison house, erst to us unknown; and thou 
 \'esta fair, messenger, swift from off 
 The IMutonian shore, here with us cast, 
 
 Our presence chide, on night's eternal brow."" 
 
 xxni. 
 ••Oh! Frowning Chaos, speak and tell us where 
 The end is, and periphery of space! 
 
 And bear us hence to life and light, again."" 
 Vesta then replied: "'The wings of morning fair. 
 That bear afar the sweet and glowing face 
 
 Of day, could not, while Time"s limitless reign 
 
 xxiv. 
 Breathes on matin song, soft and mellow. 
 Its svmphonious strains, a beginning 
 
 Make in space, whose vast vastness no center 
 lias. No end, top, side, base. One great fellow 
 Of eternal spread is hers. All the spinning 
 Spheres that jilav within its bosom, enter 
 
 XXV. 
 
 •'Not one atom"s size in space eternal. 
 
 Could you upon the wings of lightning ride 
 And make that ride forever on and on. 
 W'hile the glowing sun in his supernal 
 
 Grandeur sends vivifying rays through th" tide 
 Of time, space still lies on, yet. farther on. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 '•On the pinions of thought could you astride 
 Be placed, with might to instantaneous 
 
 The worlds around traverse; and thus on speed. 
 Till the stars fall, the moon wane and the tide 
 Cease pulsation, earth to extraneous 
 
 Matter pass, not e"en a start will you ha" made 
 
Poems of Leisure. 21 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 -'In boundless, incomprehensible space. 
 The one ubiquity. The all of all — 
 
 That only which embraces ev'ry where, 
 And all things. Upon whose all-spreading face 
 Is the image, the impress and the call 
 
 Of that which now is, was, or ever were." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Lit up the face of Vesta, a calm smile, 
 x\nd looking away, she, in a whisper said, 
 
 Which, from the dense stillness surrounding us 
 Seem'd as an explosion, on the deep file 
 Of night, artillery-like, in contests dead 
 
 Of foes. "I'll guide you beyond Erebus." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 *'Tarry not I We will haste, our journe}^ make 
 And wave our hands again across the brow 
 Of morning, and freight her bosom grand, 
 With our presence and once again awake 
 To the smiles of Mira, feel the glow 
 Of Eta Hush by light eternal, fan'd. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 Hope! home! ! love and heaven! ! ! Links divine. 
 That span the yawning gulf of despair 
 
 And lead man on to results great and grand, 
 Despite himself. Fleet on the wings of Time 
 We rode from Chaos to regions more fair, 
 That pointed to our home, our father-land. 
 
 II. 
 Vesta was to Procleus the sagess 
 
 Whose words were wisdom, and decision, law; 
 As down a long, lambent stream of light we 
 Sped our way. To me, her looks were pages 
 Of expressive love, on whose lips, with awe 
 I dwelt my thoughts, with true f elicit}^. 
 
 III. 
 We sped away, as on a stream, we were, 
 Of light, which bore us on in hope afar 
 To a distant world, in whose stellar dome 
 Seem'd other laughing worlds, some near, some far. 
 
2 2 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Wore some an azura hue, and there a star 
 
 TwlnkHng bright beneath us, a smile would own. ( i ) 
 
 IV. 
 
 Around, above, below, before, behind, 
 Peeping through ethir frore and blue, 
 
 Bright-eyed spheroids sesm'd to hang and witch us. 
 The while, Vesta, our fair chap:;?rone, kind 
 And attentive, gave of her travels trui 
 
 Account and lid us on in discourse, thus: 
 
 v. 
 '•On 3-onder bright hanging orb Fx'e sat 
 And for hours watched the living, moving 
 
 Throng that are born, live and die on its face. 
 As mortals are born, live and die on that 
 
 Sphere called earth. A more gentle and loving- 
 Folk could not be than that small stellar race. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Upon the pure ambient air they live. 
 
 And, breathe from off ambrosial sweetness. 
 Life exquisite. Like the lithe humming bird. 
 That flits from flower to flower to give 
 A kiss refining to their completeness, 
 
 This folk flit on the air, unwing'd, unheard. 
 
 \ii. 
 Small, they, not larger than an infant seem. 
 
 Plump, yet lighter than the air on which they float. 
 Or ride upon, in graceful attitudes, 
 In zephvr-like playfulness. On a treen 
 
 Of air they sit at times, and tliemselves gloat 
 To fullness on its sweet beatitudes. 
 
 vni. 
 There is no object more to them, in life. 
 Than that of flirting with the goddess fair 
 
 Of pleasure. They will court no other meed 
 Or wist for other things, for all is rife 
 
 To completeness. All the surroundings rare 
 Of jov, are there, without the guile of greed. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Breath to them is meathe and food as to the 
 Lunirs is air t(j sentient beings of earth. 
 
 Ailments are to them and to then-s unknown. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 23 
 
 Thev have the felicitudes of all the free 
 
 Wino-'d <^]ories, chaste and true, brought by the birth 
 Of perfect bving, in times long since flown. 
 
 X. 
 
 Tliev are the tvp^^s of perfect beings, in 
 
 A perfect world: and, where perfection is,- 
 Reio;ns true felicity. Not all ahke 
 Are these world orbs; galling sin 
 Revcls on the face of some witli his 
 
 Tooth of virus always prepar'd to strike. 
 
 XI . 
 
 Some are propagating worlds. Mira, 
 
 There, in swelling brightness hangs, (2) with her, springs 
 From out the depths of life perennial. 
 The primal germs that succeed the fiery 
 
 Epoch of her being, which to her clings. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To Casseopieia's grandeur we'll fly; 
 
 There Ticho Brahe drank the w^onders in, (3) 
 And from the blaze effulgent that did gleam 
 Upon him from the deep and tongueless sky. 
 
 He learned to love the truths; which was to him 
 But the p-limmerinir of a fretful dream. 
 
 xni. 
 As we sped on lightning's lurid wing, through 
 Perfect light, in the distance far we saw 
 The earth; around which a semi-opaque 
 Substance lay, deeper, it appeared to view. 
 
 Than mortal eve could fathom. There the law 
 Of optics lost its force ; and to our wake 
 
 XIV 
 
 Of e3^e, above the terene scenes of grand 
 And sublime realities, typified 
 
 The wildest imaginings. It was the 
 Periphery of air substance. (4) The hand 
 Of nature placed outside of the outer side 
 Of this air ocean of intensity 
 
 XV. 
 
 An inert, hollow and transparent sphere. 
 
 Mountains towering. There plains and meads 
 Cours'd by rivers, cut bv streams of lesser 
 
24 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 \ erge. Here spread a silver lake, there a meer, (5)' 
 With blushing flowerets around its leads- 
 Of beauty. I was made a confessor 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Of my own errors. Fragrance sweet 
 
 Perv^aded the highest heights. The soul meets 
 Its awe. Here grace of varied tints presents 
 A beauty, the grandest mind must own. Fleet 
 On the wings of thought, the elinge face speaks 
 In voluiTies of its majestic pleasance. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 While yet I thought, to those vast bounds we hied. 
 And, by a cool and placid meer we stood, 
 
 Fringed it was with a sward dense, and branching trees. 
 In its pearly depths and along its side 
 
 Hung shadows of the far-upreaching wood, 
 
 Whose broad leav^es i-ustled in the wafting breeze. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 In the precincts of Devachan were cast. (6) 
 It rests on the periphery of the air, 
 
 Which as dense to manes as is earth to man. 
 Like watsr to penetrate. Cities, vast 
 With apures of beauty, excessive far. 
 
 To man's conceptions in his wildest plan. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I)eneath, we saw the rolling earth, her sides 
 
 Turn to our look. We saw men there, and beasts 
 Wade the fluid air, the earth surrounding. 
 We saw men sicken and die, and the tides 
 
 Of life change and rechange, in order. Feasts 
 Of death were about. We saw life bounding,. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Fading and changing. There many we saw 
 Succumb to the inevitable. The 
 
 Manas lighter than the damp, sluggish air, (7 ) 
 Would leave the rupa and arise through th^ law (8) 
 Of Karma, if from the animal were free, 
 To th' sphere of Devachan beautiful, fair. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 'Twas morn, unlike the earth. The orient, 
 In argent sheen bestow'd her smile; and, man 
 
Poems of Leisure. 25 
 
 Awoke ; not from his sleepy dreams to plod 
 Through life along, with sly and vile intent 
 To thrawl his fellow with "■ailing' ban 
 Of servitude. Neither to find a god 
 
 XX 1 1 
 Seclusive to dull ignorance, sublime, 
 
 That has for aye made "countless millions mourn. 
 But with matin songs and pleasing smiles 'woke 
 Fair nature with a deep and rhythmic chime 
 Of love, on whose dulcet strains is borne 
 Th' word "Fraternity" untainted, unbroVe. 
 
 win. 
 L pon a craggy height and visne quite near. 
 Disport maidens with agile beasts of prey. 
 
 The condor swims above, and sports the dove 
 Around as minnerets in brooklets clear. 
 
 Here all are friends; all are pets. The da}' 
 Of greed has pass'd and here all live in love. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 On yonder quivering lake, whose silver 
 
 Wavelets each other chase — they come, they go — 
 Like argent streamlets from some stellar sun 
 Dressed in animated grace to smile. Never 
 Into madden'd billows made. A faint glow 
 Like blazing zephyrs, through its bosom run. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 From the deep center to its golden verge 
 Is its laughinij face blent with crvstalline, 
 
 While diamoned tippets kiss each gentle spray : 
 And wavelets play upon the deep, nor serge 
 The bosom of the placid meer serene. 
 
 But all in concord move in grand display. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Blooms th' syringa and scents the scene with love. 
 Birds, sportive, sing, and beasts in friendship play. 
 The voice of man, in euphonious rh3^mes 
 Strikes the diapason of the spheres above. 
 
 And music cheers the heart, as day follows day. 
 And blends into one like heaven-born chimes. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Here lay flower}^ dells. There run canons deep. 
 Leap streams refreshing from the mountain sides; 
 4 
 
-6 ' Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Great rivers, tranquil, move themselves along^ 
 Here man, in sylvan shades, tinds calm retreat, 
 The queen of night in argent trosseau rides 
 In grace sublime amid this stellar throng. 
 
 XXVI I I. 
 
 r>efore our eyes, fascinated with scenes 
 Most bewitching, beauty locked in beauty, 
 La3% The sk}-, deep-toned a mellow refrain 
 Back sent to the 'wilder'd eye, with its gleams 
 Of grandeur, from spheres afar. Here duty 
 Wrapped in nature gave love its spacious reign. 
 
 X \ I X . 
 
 While thinking, if in bewilderment we 
 Can think, a stately youth, messuivent 
 From Procheana, the principal mart 
 Where Eta blends her ruddy smiles, mild, free 
 And enchanting; with Mira's blushes, blent 
 With green and white, from Sirius' heart, 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Came up the golden strand, wash'd by waters clear 
 From dew-drops still' d on blooms ambrosial 
 B>^ jeweled eyes of matin stars. His hand 
 A sapphire plate, held, quaindy wrought and queer. 
 What his errand, stately was, could not tell 
 We, but knew it must be from high command. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 [n the plate a nute of finest texture 
 Was, inviting us to Procheana 
 
 As favorite guests from the royal household 
 Of Amchus. A favorable answer 
 
 Was hoped for. The while low-trill'd hosannah 
 From a thousand tongues sweetly-cadenc'd, roll'd 
 
 x X x I I . 
 A convo}' of a hundred shallops came. 
 Adorned with silken sails of varied hues. 
 With keels of pearls to cut the tranquil sea. 
 From each mast, gib and yard, St. Almo's flame 
 Afforded light to guide the nymphian crews 
 That bent with main ag-ainst the driftinir lea. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Holy love, offspring of Nervana, swell'd 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 My breast, as the beam of day bursted forth 
 And we betook ourselves aboard the gay 
 Nymphia. Above a mellow haze dwell'd; 
 
 Upon the scene, stars from the crystal north 
 Sent smiles of jov to help us on our way. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Latona breath'd a gentle waft, and moved 
 Upon the lay of transparent waters, 
 
 Our gay bark, with nymphan beauty vying. 
 Holy were my thoughts, by heart approved. 
 In those moments of ecstacies. Daughters 
 Of young love bent on us smiles undying, 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Stepping aboard the shallop, frail craft 
 Of transparent keel, and sails of zeph3-r 
 
 Cloth outspread. Our eyes looked on the inner 
 Orb. Our earth, which we could see as we had left 
 It in its sombre hue, did not differ 
 
 Much from yore, except it seem'd some dimmer 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 As view'd from the great outside station; that 
 Man knows not as he wades his liquid deep. 
 In the ethereal water of our 
 Visne of outer spread, swims the minneret 
 And other playful sports. The rapid sweep 
 Of dolphins and larger fish of power, 
 
 All gambol' d in concord and harmony. 
 Far away in the dim and azure distance. 
 
 Arose mountains, naze, jetting crags and'peaks 
 So clear and transparent, our sight their way 
 Did not obstruct. The eye, no resistance 
 
 They gave. Through all the ken of material sweep 
 
 Above the zenith, a spire gleam'd in 
 
 The distance, in the course we going were. 
 Alolius low and sweet sent us greeting 
 Symphonius. A cit}^ appear'd within 
 Our ken, of crystal white; ev'rywhere 
 
 The voice of beauty our eyes came greeting. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 Procheana lingered on ev'iylip, 
 On every brain daguerreotyped 
 
 Was this peerless princess of beauty. Light 
 Grew every heart. All the elfin ships 
 
 Dip'd their standards of argent stars and stripi'd 
 VYM-milion, marine blue and spotless white. 
 
 XL. 
 
 A convo\- met us on sylphan wing, and 
 On balmy breaths of ambrosial bloom, 
 
 We rode. Amchus gave us welcome. We felt 
 The presence of perfection about. Grand, 
 Simple and unique. Press'd on us the noon 
 Of sublimity. Here, completeuess dwelt. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Joy reigned, and ev'ry soul th' beatitude 
 Of pleasure owned. Grand edifices of 
 
 Tinsel' d growth and frost-like frescos clear 
 And bewitching, shaded the magnitude 
 Of taste exquisite. Sounded afar off 
 
 The silver chime. Welcome, most welcome here. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 It is all one pleasure here, we felt. "No," 
 
 Amchus replied, knowing our inmost thought: 
 "This is viata fair, the pure of earth life 
 Only here obtains. On the plane below 
 The real of grosser life to the view brought 
 
 More plainly is. There, the crude and coarse are rife. 
 
 XLl II. 
 
 Here folk of pure behave and walk, feed on 
 Thoughts harmonious and guide the mind to 
 Flights felicitous; as mirthful birds their 
 Throats attune to melody, music and song 
 Impart enchantments to the depths of true 
 Courage', and htw us to achievments rare. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Spring blooms eternal here. The years roll on. 
 Morning appears sweetly with her smiles 
 
 Outspread. Evening lingers on the stars around 
 And lends to night a golden cast along 
 
 Its way. Up here, no thought untrue defiles 
 
 The place, to w^'eck our inmost grace profound. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 29 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Confounded with the concatenations 
 Ot beauty, celestial, there upon my 
 Frail senses obtruded, I stood aghast, 
 And wondered if all those grand potations 
 Were for my credulity; or, if I 
 
 Truly saw, and if they should always last? 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 I see, but cannot comprehend. I hear, 
 But do not understand. I feel, and still 
 
 My senses are deluded. "Where are we?" 
 I asked. "Look ye beneath 3'our feet in clear 
 Observation, you may behold the fill 
 
 Of your great wonder. There, what do you see.'"* 
 
 xLvn. 
 Great Amchus said. I looked, in beauty sheen 
 Beneath the zephyr of my feet there lay 
 Our own Columbia, with her rivers, 
 Lakes, mountains, plains, cities. She smil'd the queen 
 Of all the earth. There bloom'd the face of day 
 In all its glory of great endeavors. 
 
 XLVI I I. 
 
 Pulsated through its steel-bound arteries 
 
 The commerce of the land. Sang from the loom. 
 The mill, the field, the forge, the office and 
 The shop, the song of thrift; realities 
 Of intellectual endowment; the groom 
 
 And the bride, fruit of the brain and honest hand. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 There stand the Sierras, Rockies, the Wahsateh. 
 With their cowls of snow and bowels of gold, 
 Ribs of silver, frames of adamant and 
 Iron hard; coal to smelt them and a catch 
 Of lead, with all the useful metals told 
 
 To commerce, in profusion rich and grand. 
 
 L. 
 
 There spreads away through many thousand miles 
 Rich plains, alluvial, that groan beneath 
 
 The plowman's sturdy tread and golden grain: 
 There laugh and work, a goodly folk, and smiles 
 The lap of luxury that wist bequeath 
 To honest toil, the harvest feast again. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 LI. 
 
 I^^rom the golden lap of the Pacific shore 
 'l\) the laved rocks of Atlantic's verge; 
 
 From Rio Del Norte to the ice girth bound 
 ()1 Alaska, lie inviting, in store 
 
 Vox man, all the needs that nature can urge 
 Or. in reason express, there may be found 
 
 LI I . 
 
 Dotting the plains and outspread land. 
 
 Homes, orchards, vineyards and capacious farms: 
 Towns and villas neat, cities with their wealth. 
 Look up thro' noble efforts to the grand 
 
 Achievements of the day, and with their charms 
 Enchant the eye of enterprise and health. 
 
 LI 1 I. 
 
 There floats the grandest sight of all, the pride 
 Of ev'ry loyal heart, as well the charm 
 
 Of ev'ry eye. The old flag that long ago 
 Wav'd at Yorktown, and, was the faithful guide 
 In eighteen twelve. It proudly nerv'd the arm 
 Of victory in the fields of Mexico. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 That grand old flag! That blessed flag! I that waved 
 In triumph o'er so many sanguine fields. 
 
 The pride of Lincoln, Grant and Washington, 
 Waves now in triumph, as it always wav'd. 
 In proud defiance, and it never yields 
 In the hands of a true and noble son. 
 
 LV. 
 
 I^less'd is the man who finds a shelter 'neath 
 The smiles of that old flag! Who is anxious 
 For its weal. Blessed is the mind that finds a 
 Home for spirits pure within their belief! 
 
 As guides thro' the dark and sombre meshes 
 Of earth life, to a brighter, fairer day. 
 
 LV I . 
 
 Wiio feels the spirit hosts about him, guides 
 Gentle true of life: wdio notes their kind 
 Endeavors to lead him on, if they can, 
 Where joy of halcj'on years survives the tides 
 
 Of Time severe; where the angel world combine 
 In wish to make of each a true man. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 LVI I 
 
 Man! Strange combination. He acts! He lives I I 
 Struggle of the past; blossom of the present; 
 Fruit of the future; child of the forces: 
 Offspring of all ^wt past: the source that gives 
 Expression to all that which is pleasant, 
 
 Grand, good and holy. His great thought courses 
 
 LV I I I . 
 
 I'he universal cause, and carries back 
 'Vo primeval plentitudes the fond mind, 
 
 That it may drink of its own far back birth. 
 ^i\) volume on the future that reflect 
 
 Of thought that comes ajjain in force to bind 
 Him to heaven when unfettered by earth. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 For yourselves, fair Vesta, you may accept 
 The courtesies proffered by great Amchus, 
 And grace Procheana with your presence. 
 Longer, please. Bear great Amchus my regret — 
 My stay I feel is short: and feeling thus. 
 My liking draws me to the vista hence. 
 
 II. 
 Adieu! me bid my friends, and, I was left 
 On the shores of lake Mamora which lay 
 
 By the wash'd feet of Mount Kaarah, whose brow 
 Kiss'd the furtive clouds that pass'd by; and, cleft 
 Their aqueous wings of sun-distilled spra}'. 
 As food for verdue in the vales below. 
 
 HI. 
 
 I'^or hours. Ah! there are no hours here. 
 A day is like a moment, fleet of wing. 
 
 When one can stand alone and feast his es'es 
 And fill his soul on beauties ev'r3^where. 
 1 felt as if the morning heart of spring 
 
 Was here, with all its flush of pure emprise. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Th'-re spread an esplanade its sward of green 
 Before a temple made of flowers gay; 
 
 And sang sweet songsters of an airy wing 
 In notes soprano to the brooklet's sheen, 
 
32 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 That broke in accents o'er their pebbled way 
 And left behind to laui^h, the mountain spray. 
 
 V. 
 
 In the heathery deep, the cushat's song 
 
 Svveird the notes of Mavis on the ambient air. 
 The stately buck his shadow in the stream 
 Beholds with pride; and, through the mountain rang 
 Echos loud, from the lion in his lair. 
 
 And bleating lambs answered back the panther's scream. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A mellow gray from Ursa Minor spread, 
 Upon the sky cerulean and clear, 
 A grand relief, and, Sirius, a glad 
 Morning kiss sent to the proud mountain head. 
 And lap'd a silver fold across the meer 
 
 And wav'd with Mira on the verge, a plaid. 
 
 VI I. 
 
 "Is this real? Can there be one thing more 
 To sweet existence added, to make complete 
 
 The beatitude of man?" Thus, through my mind 
 Ran the thought without meditation. Before 
 An answer to my 'quiring mind came, fleet 
 
 Of foot tripped a maid and said in tones kind : 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ''I saw your wistful thought across the disk 
 Of heaven fly, and in response I came 
 To bear the answer to yourself alone. 
 It is not mete that one of earth should risk 
 His happiness alone. It takes the flame 
 
 Of love to make heaven e'en a pleasant home. 
 
 IX. 
 
 One may traverse the face of heaven wide. 
 And drink the joys of all its beauties in. 
 Yet, sad within his heart a void must be. 
 If there be not one lingering by his side, 
 
 Or close around with loving words for him, 
 And for that love, aet love as full and free. 
 
 Heaven, with all its joys and its pleasures. 
 With all its sweets and lavish'd beauty grand. 
 With its infinitude of glories true 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Will sink into sameness, and its treasures 
 
 Vanish as the dew of morn at the sun's command. 
 If thev are not observed and loved by two." 
 
 XI. 
 
 Without further say, the damsel smiling left 
 
 Me on the strand; and with her went my heart 
 And all the fullness of the beautiful 
 Surrounding's, which lay barren and bereft 
 
 Of soul; though unchang'd, they could not impart 
 That refreshing glow% they erst had so well. 
 
 xir. 
 
 Sitting down upon an emerald sward 
 
 My heart went back. I bow'd my head 
 
 And thought of Hester, loved and left behind. 
 In my earnest soul her loved voice, I heard. 
 In expressive grief, I was dead. 
 
 She alone was left, and to fate resigned. 
 
 XI I I 
 
 And, I said, '^'Is this death?" The elysian shore. 
 The great dreaded hereafter? Or is this 
 The dream of death, sister of extinction? 
 What is death, that his visits should be more 
 Than the sweet creeping sleep of bliss, 
 
 To whose arms all yield without distinction? 
 
 XIV 
 
 Is not death our greatest boon, our dearest friend. 
 Walking the earth, spreading benedictions 
 To the millions? To the weary relief, 
 To the burden'd sweet rest? It is the end 
 Of all sorrow, all troubles, all afflictions; 
 
 It makes all sadness short; all sorrows brief. 
 
 XV 
 
 It dulls famine's sharp and ravaging tooth; 
 It cools the fever' d brow, and lays the hand 
 Upon the f rore breath of night ; 
 At the last moment, joy to the beggar's roof; 
 x\nd all the languishing poor of the land 
 
 Find in the grand sleep of death, a pure delight. 
 
 wi 
 Wherever life goes with his long red train 
 Of afflictions, death is present ever, 
 
 With his smiles and his relief; be it where 
 
34 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Eternal frost, ice and snow, their refrain 
 
 Of tortured existence broadcasts, or whether 
 In the tropics with their dense and fetid air. 
 
 xvn. 
 Or if on the mountain top, or the deep 
 Below, upon the arid plain, or where 
 
 The Mani^o blooms, or in the jungles wild. 
 Death, conquering king, with eternal sleep 
 
 Bathes the brow and soothes the pain'd heart with care. 
 Brings peace to all, the aged and the child. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Death has no special visne or favor'd clime; 
 His is the reign of that eternal spread 
 
 That pervades the universe with the serge 
 iM life. He rides upon the brow of Time 
 
 Spreading through all space his unnumber'd dead. 
 Making all the living his 'special targe. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And when the kiss of death has brought repose. 
 And we are number'd with that solemn bourne 
 That bears us hence, the living still will ask: 
 '•What next?" The candid answer, "No one knows."" 
 From behind this sad scene all light hath flown, 
 Comes then the joy of Hope whose pleasant task 
 
 XX. 
 
 It is, to lead cold reason through the gloom, 
 Of which sophists speak and poets have sung; 
 
 Kings, statesmen, philosophers, wise and learn'd. 
 Alike have stood begging at the tomb. 
 
 For some echo back. But, alas! its tongue 
 Is hush'd, and Hope alone brings the return. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Musing thus, I felt the wage of calm sleep 
 Coming, with its lullaby of rest ; 
 
 I thought the last thought of Hester and home. 
 How long I slept, the secret angels keep, 
 But I can now measure my feelings best 
 
 When my eyes beheld my own native wone. 
 
 Hard by upon a rising knoll, amid 
 
 Evergreens, flowers, shrubs and branching trees 
 
Poems of Leisure. 35 
 
 A cemetery was. I sped my way thither 
 And felt relief with the ramble. Was hid, 
 In trailing vines and shrubs of various leaves, 
 Many graves that nameless will be ever. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Amid this city of unnumber'd dead 
 
 A gathering, large, of people I observed; • 
 
 I wiird to saunter up .to view the crowd. 
 
 When close approached, I heard a hymnal read 
 
 And saw the cortege grave, and a reserved, 
 
 Sad look on each face, the humble and the proud. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 I walked among them, no one seem'd to see 
 Me. Though I spoke to many, no one seem'd 
 To hear. Was sung a mournful plaint, sad, low 
 And impressive there; and, with gravity, 
 A man of eloquence, being esteemed 
 For sublimity and linguistic flow, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Chain'd the audience with a wordy spell 
 
 Of the man before him dead. And I heard 
 Things that stirr'd my soul with admiration 
 Of the life of him who in silence lay. Well 
 Tim'd were the sentences, and fell the word 
 Of praise that fiU'd one with animation. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 "I came not here to speak in fulsome praise 
 O'er the bier of a man I knew to admire; 
 But my testimony of him to giv^e 
 As he was in life. Scarce had he the days 
 Of youth thrown off and the station higher 
 
 Of manhood assumed, when he ceased to live. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 But already hewn he had himself a name, 
 Not in the field of human woe or blood, 
 
 Nor by the prowess won through wanton pain. 
 His was a higher and a grander fame, 
 
 A fame that lives among the great and good. 
 That all admire, but very few attain. 
 
 XXVI I I. 
 
 Too great he was to do another wrong; 
 
3^ Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Too proud to lie ; too noble to deceive ; 
 
 All men he loved; and in his heart no guile 
 He bore. He help'd the weak and curbed the strong 
 His hand was ever ready to relieve 
 
 Distress. The world he greeted with a smile. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 For those who had wrong' d him he did not ask 
 1\) have forgiven, but he them forgave; 
 
 Malice, no lodgment found in his pure mind : 
 For him to do good was his wish and task; 
 He lived and spoke the truth, and was a brave 
 Defender of right of every kind. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 A genial and a generous friend > 
 
 Would practice no deceit. He hated guile. 
 His words upon a golden thread were strung. 
 And in a weft did all the virtues blend ; 
 
 Nor would he wrong doings guild with a smile. 
 Or ply a vile or a deceitful tongue. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 He knelt before no god or fancied throne; 
 No sect, priest or christ, claim'd his devoirs: 
 He scorn'd the tyrant and his Jiallin": ban: 
 He worshiped but the good in man alone, 
 In his heart abhorred what virtue abhors, 
 x\nd saw in man the true Savior of man."" 
 
 XXXI I. 
 
 1 thought this man, once lived, but now is dead 
 I cannot doubt. One fact impresses me: 
 Man, his praises are too late in giving. 
 How much better, far, that jrood thino;s be said 
 While sensuous is the subject, that he 
 
 Might somewhat be encouraged while living. 
 
 XXX III. 
 
 l>ut 'tis the rule, be it with regrets said, 
 
 Good men are curs'd and life is render'd sore 
 Through menial, jealous censurings 
 Which never close until the man is dead, 
 Then lavish is the tongue to blandish o'er 
 His name with most extravagant savings. 
 
Poems of I^etsure-. 37 
 
 My absence may be counted yet by days, 
 My boyhood friends are here, and yet alive, 
 But from my knowledge I cannot recall 
 The one entitled to this lavish praise. 
 
 I dare say, should the dead one now revive, 
 
 He would not know who the speaker meant at alL 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 -'A little lower he must have been than 
 
 The angels," I thought, and while pondering 
 My eyes fell on a female, bowed in deep 
 Grief, by the casket. I marvel'd; but when 
 
 Her eyes, suffused with tears upturned, pleading 
 That he was not dead, but in a deep sleep, 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 I saw the sad, but most beautiful face 
 
 Of Hester. The love of my love. The charm 
 Of my charm. The soul of my soul. My all. 
 I hastened and did with love embrace 
 
 Her lithe and waning waist with my strong arm, 
 But she heeded me not, and yet did call 
 
 XXXV I I. 
 
 Upon the scarf d and crape-clad ministers 
 Of good to forego the task and deliver 
 To her for a defined time, the keeping 
 Of the casket. She knelt in prayer, and with tears 
 Streaming her cheeks, said: "Oh ! will I never 
 See you my Philo?" moaned she, still weepincr. 
 
 xxxviii. 
 *'I am by your side dear, look up," I said, 
 But yet she heeded me not. I kissed the 
 
 Brimming tear; and, endearing words I spoke 
 To her. Still in prayer she called my name. Fled 
 From her recognition have I, yet she 
 
 Calls Philo; and, in that name did invoke 
 
 Ministering spirits of love for aid. 
 I pitied her and on her cheeks again 
 
 Impress'd a kiss, and spoke words endearing 
 Again of assured love. In prayer she said. 
 
38 Poems of Leistire. 
 
 As though her heart would break with grief and pain, 
 '"He is not dead, Oh ! give me a hearing." 
 
 XL. 
 
 "Grant me this one boon. Oh ! sexton, I prav. 
 Open once more the cruel casket that I 
 
 May again bend on his lovely face mine eyes 
 Before the cold earth, the immortal day, 
 Of my love drmk in, that I then may die 
 
 With his last lovely smile upon me." Surprise 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Struck me dumb, when in the cisket I saw 
 
 That which was myself, asleep. The earth bound 
 Part. "-To think is to be and thoughts are things.' 
 Joy took the place of grief. The grave's dark maw 
 Was unrequited. Hester embraced, found 
 
 Solace in the heart, where love eternal springs. 
 
 NOTES ON HESTER AND PHILO. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 XI. 
 
 (i) "My senses were alive." 
 
 Oft times persons lying in a state of suspended animation, or in a trance 
 state, iiear and i<now everything that is going on around them, but have no 
 power of making their condition kno.vn ; and, not unfrequently. persons have 
 been buried alive, when, in fact, they were but in a deep trance. 
 
 There lives a lady in Davenport. Iowa, who became ill, and to all ap- 
 pearances departed this life. She was robed for the bridal chamber of death, 
 and her funeral was going on, when signs of life were observed. The eyes of 
 mourning were changed to anxiety: then to rejoicing, for she was restored. 
 Afterwards she married a prominent physician who is now, (1890) living hap- 
 pily with his wife, and following his profession in Davenport. Iowa. 
 
 This is only one of thousands of instances of suspended animation. In 
 cholera times, and during great epidemics, such cases are frequent. There 
 lived a man in Indiana who was honored with a large funeral. An eloquent 
 minister preached the funeral sermon every, word of which he heard, but 
 could make no reply. The last leave was taken of him, and he was placed in 
 the hearse and the cortege was proceeding to the place of interment, when the 
 driver heard a knocking in the coffin. They stopped for an investigation, to 
 tind the dead man able to sit up. He lived many years afterwards. 
 
 People lying in a trance state often hear and know everything that is go- 
 ing on about them, but have not the power to move a muscle and make their 
 condition known. 
 
 A ladv once, whom 1 knew in life, had become verv ill and swooned away 
 
Poems of Leisu?'c. 39 
 
 to a state of trance. She grew cold and pulseless. Her friends thought her 
 dead. She was laid out. dres^^ed in the bridal robes of death, and laid in the 
 casket for burial. She knew everything that was going on, but was powerless 
 to make them know that she was not dead. Signs of life were accidentally ob- 
 served in her. She was taken from the casket and restored to life. 
 
 (2) '"There in the deep voice of solitude 
 
 Adepts of the black art abide in caves." 
 
 There is, connected with the Buddhistic religion, an order known as 
 Adepts. They belong to a Brotherhood of which the Mahatmas, are of a 
 higher degree. They profess to have acquired great knowledge in physic 
 power. To acquire this learning the adept retires to the Himalayas 
 and there the neophyte places himself in a most rigid condition of 
 training, which he must continue for not less than seven years before he can 
 be admitted to the lowest degree of the Brotherhood in occultism, and the 
 probation may extend nd lihitirn. He has no security that he will ever be 
 advanced to the higher knowledge. 
 
 The life of the adept requires absolute physical purity. For all the years 
 of probation he must be perfectly chaste, perfectly abstemious and indifferent 
 to physical luxury of every kind. He must train his mind to absolute control 
 and oneness of concentration in thought power. It must rest above all men- 
 ial things and delve into the occult mysticisms of the latent powers of nature. 
 Through long training and earnest application it is said the adepts have the 
 power to take the astral body from the physical and with the rapidity of 
 thought traverse space and return to life again. The adepts have acquired the 
 science of mental telegraph v that enables them to converse with each other 
 while hundreds and even thousands of miles apart. 
 
 (3) "Again to chaos whose habitation 
 Is the catalysis of cosmic mists." 
 
 There was a time when there was no earth, moon, sun or stars. Yet the 
 matter that compose them always existed and will never have an ending. Be- 
 fore the world combination was effected by the mutual attraction of particles 
 of matter, those particles were in a state of cosmic mist. Darkness prevaded 
 the deep, and chaos (which is simply an unorganized state) reigned. 
 
 This atomic mist was matter, and each little atom contained the elements 
 of force called attraction, repulsion, life, intelligence, spirit, all of which in 
 after periods were made manifest according to the aggregation and combina- 
 tion of material substances. 
 
 There is no dead matter in the universe. Everything that is, was, or eve' 
 will be, has life, and also intelligence, but the life and intelligence of the rock 
 is different from that of the flower or tree. The intelligence of man isdiffereti^ 
 from the intelligence of the brute, just in proportion to the difference of mate' 
 rial combination. 
 
40 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 (.4) "The astral knows no bounds.'" 
 
 It is asserted as a fact, that the spirit often leaves the body of the living mail 
 and beconiies manifest to observers at great distances from, the body. This is- 
 partly proven by hypnotic experimenis, when the mind of the subject is sent, 
 to distant places and then perfectly describe the persons there, the room, 
 furniture and the very convers-ation of the ones visited, though the hypnotic 
 subject is an absolute stranger to them alL 
 
 XXV. 
 
 (5) "-Our motors were our wills." 
 
 The spirit but wills to go, and is there, 
 
 XXX. 
 
 (6) "We saw, up creeping 
 
 The purple morn, above the orient. 
 
 As evening spread upon the western verge 
 
 A smile." 
 At the distance of the moon away, an observer could see at the same 
 glance the rising sun and the golden gleants of evening as she bids the day 
 good by. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 (7) "Wherere we looked the scowling visage of darkness 
 
 Was confronting us " 
 When you get beyond the reflection of snn rays upon the earth, it becomes, 
 absolutely dark. The mean distance between the earth and the sun is total 
 darkness. We have light upon the earth, because of the stopping of and re- 
 tiection of the sun's rays. 
 
 XX.KVII. 
 
 (8) "Our own loved birth spheroid had been displaced 
 
 And from our longing vision strayed." 
 
 Could we stand upon the face of the moon, we could look out into the 
 stellar depths, and view, of a clear night, a beautiful silver orb, in appearance 
 about thirteen times larger than the moon, as it appears now to us. With 
 delight we would sit and watch its revolutions upon its axis, as it would pre- 
 sent her sides of variegated beauty to us. We would see the silver-faced Pa- 
 cific ocean, then creeping up A.sia, Africa, Europe, the Atlantic, and in its. 
 turn, America. Should we shift to the planet of Venus, we would behold our 
 globe appearing in the azure sky, like a large bright star, and the moon circu- 
 lating around her, as a a small •^peck. We would wonder and admire her beauty 
 as we would see her fly away and lose herself in space in her journey around 
 the sun. 
 
 Who knows but we would find a people on Venus, further advanced in the 
 sciences and knowledge than the people of the earth are to-day? Who knows 
 but we would find philosophers and statesmen, orators and poets and a state 
 «^f refinement in advance of our own earth's times? 
 
Poems of Leisure. 41 
 
 CANTO I I . 
 VI. 
 
 (1) "rm spinning fur you life's endless thread." 
 
 In the Grecian mythology the fates consist of three old women, dressed 
 in robes of white ermine, bordered with purple. They wore chaplets made 
 of wool and interwoven with the tl )vvers of narcissus. Their names were 
 Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. They were daughters of Nj.k and Erebus. 
 They controlled the thread of life. Lachesis turned the wheel. Clotho drew 
 out the thread, and this thread endued the wearer with eternal life, unless it 
 was cut by the other sister, Atropos. 
 
 XV. 
 
 (2) "To think is to be." 
 
 According to spirit philosophy, a spirit need but think and the distance 
 is crossed and the thing accomplished, if within the scope of Psychic power. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ( 5) "This is the law. 
 
 The astral through electric thought must run 
 The wires spun from I he complex woof of air." 
 Through the art of mental telegraphy, an electric chain is formed and 
 the thought, as an entity, runs the wires to the person communicated 
 with, by means of which the two can converse together, though many miles 
 away. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 III. 
 (i) "Wore some an azure hue and some a star 
 
 Twinkling bright beneath us a smile would own."' 
 
 Some of the binary stars are of different colors. In the constellation of 
 Leparis, one star is white, the other deep red. In Sygni, one is yellow, the 
 other blue. In Andromedea, they are orange and green. In some instances 
 thev seem to be complementary colors. In such instances, the largest star 
 seems to be ruddy or orange, while the smaller one appears blue or green. 
 This may, in some instances, appear so from the known law of optics that 
 when the retina of the eye is excited by the influence of a bright color, the 
 teebler light would appear to have a complementary color. Thus, in Eta 
 Casseopeia there is the beautiful combination of a large white star and one of 
 a rich, ruddy purple. But, this does not follow that the different colored stars 
 are from complementary effects. Sirius, in olden times, was a ruddy star; 
 nov\ it shines with a pure bright light. 
 
 Insulated stars of different colors appear in many parts of the stellar re- 
 wioi .. Some of them are of deep red color ; some bright ; some tinged with 
 oral ^e and yellow. But, none of these isolated stars are blue, or green. 
 The e colors belong to binary association . 
 
 XI . 
 
 (2) Mira There in swelling brightness hangs." 
 
 4ira, called "the wonderful star,"" shines with brilliancy at times as a 
 
42 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 star approaching one of the first magnitude; then, it decreases for about three 
 months until it becomes invisible to the naked eye, to a star of the twelfth 
 magnitude; it remains so, for about five months; then it gradually grows 
 into its former size and brilliancy. It takes about 331 days to pass througli 
 these phases. 
 
 XII. 
 
 (3) "To Casseopeia's grandeur we will fly 
 
 Where Tycho Brahe drank his wonders in." 
 The father of the celebrated Tycho Brahe desired his son to study law, 
 but the stronger inclination of the son was astronomy. His course in life was 
 decided by the sudden appearance of a temporary star in the constellation of 
 Casseopeia, in Nov., 1572. As he was returning from his laboratory, about 
 10 in the evening, his attention was called to a star behind him. A flash of 
 his eye to Casseopiea, caught a star so brilliant and large that it caused a 
 shadow from his cane. It came suddenly and remained visible for about six- 
 teen months, and then it gradually disappeared. This strange phenomena 
 determined Tycho Brahe to become an astronomer. The same star appeared 
 in 945, in i.?64, and it may be reasonably expected in 1891, or 1892. Its pe- 
 riodicity seems to be about 319 years. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 (4) "It was the periphery of air substance." 
 
 The air is a fluid, consisting of two gases, oxygen and nitrogen, in a 
 state of mechanical mixture, but there is always present a small proportion of 
 carbonic acid gas and aqueous vapor. It is presumed that the atmosphere 
 is about forty-five miles deep, from the earth upwards. Outside of the belt 
 of air surrounding the earth, is a more refined substance, called ether. 
 
 XV. 
 
 (5) "Mountains towering, there plains and meads 
 
 CoursM by rivers, cut by streams of lesser verge." 
 There is an equilibrium in the interplanetary space, so absolutely secure 
 from attractive disturbances that large and ponderous bodies rest there in 
 comparative security, as is demonstrated by the inter-stellar rocks known as 
 aerolites. Some of these have fallen to the earth, weighing as much as 30,000 
 pounds. These bodies are very heavy, being about 85 per cent. iron. If 
 such heavy substances can rest in the boson of ether, beyond the periphery of 
 the air, why not other substances, structures and compositions less ponder- 
 able? 
 
 XVI I. 
 
 (6) "In the precincts of Devachan were cast." 
 
 In the Buddhic philosophy there is a state in the transition of the ego 
 from the earth, or animal condition, to Atma, or pure spirit, called Devachan, 
 which corresponds to the christian conception of heaven. Devachan is the 
 condition of absolute felicity. Avitchi is just the reverse. There are no mo- 
 ments of enjoyment in Avitchi. no thought of infelicity in Devachan ; both are 
 effects, not cau.ses, and these effects are the results of the previous life. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 43 
 
 Passing on from the condition of Devachan, comes the state of Nirvana, 
 which is a "sublime state of conscious rest in omniscience." It is that per- 
 fect condition of the human soul in its preparatory state to the higher condi- 
 tion of pure spirit, or Atma, the highest condition known to the Buddhistic 
 philosophy. The conditions of man, according to this conception, are divided 
 into seven degrees or parts : 
 
 1 The body, or Riipa. 
 
 2 Vitality, or Pra?ia or Jiva. 
 
 3 Astral, or Linga Sharira. 
 
 4 Animal soul, or Karma Rupa. 
 
 5 Human soul, or Manas. 
 
 6 Spiritual soul, or Buddhi. 
 
 7 Spirit, or Atma. 
 
 XX. 
 
 (7) "The Manas lighter than the damp, sluggish air." 
 Manas means the spirit. 
 
 (8) "Would leave the rupa and arise thro' the law of Karma." 
 
 The rupa is the body; the Karma, that attendant character, or aroma, of 
 the soul that determines its state in the future. 
 
44 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 AN HONEST PRAYER. 
 
 Oh ! thou invisible power 
 
 That moves the heart and stirs the brain. 
 Give sordid vice a transient hour 
 
 And let within my bosom reign 
 A purer thought, a chaster love 
 Than aye within my bosom move. 
 
 No trust I place in gods unknown, 
 To them I raise no gloomy fane ; 
 
 The pregnant knee I bend to none ; 
 No priest I tithe, no sect I claim; 
 
 I worship 'neath no gilded dome, 
 
 But praise the good in man alone. 
 
 Oh ! let me at his shrine adore 
 
 The good that speaks through his address 
 And let me love him more and more, 
 
 Nor love the smiles of virtue less. 
 Nor do to others, bond or free, 
 That I would not have done to me. 
 
 Make me too great to do a wrong, 
 Too weak to sin, too proud to lie. 
 
 Too rich to wear another's crown, 
 Too poor to sport a coward's eye, 
 
 Too kind to start a tear to flow. 
 
 Too good to cause another woe. 
 
 Oh! give me strength of nerve and mind 
 
 To earn through life the bread I eat. 
 Keep me in peace with all mankind : 
 
 Let fraternal smiles my presence great: 
 Let no one say in life's great throng- 
 That I have ever done him wrong. 
 
 Aid me to work a great reform 
 Without the hope of fee or pelf. 
 
 Before I chide another's wrong, 
 Teach me to first reform myself: 
 
 Learn to eschew the faults I own 
 
 And blight the seeds of passion sown. 
 
 Thou motive force within my brain. 
 Let me invoke thee while I can. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 45 
 
 Oh ! let fraternal justice reign 
 
 And man become the friend of man ; 
 For he alone, of all the train, 
 Can grace a savior's proud domain. 
 
 BOREAS. 
 
 Old Boreas comes with a scowl on his face. 
 
 From the seas of the north and land of despair; 
 
 His coat is of snow, and his boots are of ice ; 
 Has frost for his whiskers; icicles for hair; 
 
 He whistles and whistles wherever he goes, 
 
 Not minding the weather, or caring for clothes. 
 
 He sweeps through the forest and over the glen. 
 
 And spreads on the ground a white shroud as he goes 
 
 With manners so rude, that whenever he can, 
 
 Through each little crevice, obtrudes he his nose, 
 
 And once he has ingress, audacious and bold, 
 
 He makes all about him feel chilly and cold. 
 
 A blast from his nostrils makes hoary the air. 
 And freezes the waters of river and lake. 
 
 He nips with his teeth the green boughs until bare. 
 And leaves devastation wide strewed in his wake ; 
 
 Whatever he touches, with finger or breath. 
 
 Assumes at his bidding the visage of death. 
 
 He comes from the north with a rush and a roar; 
 
 With a storm in his mouth, and blasts in his hand. 
 He raps at the window, and screams at the door; 
 
 And shoots frigid arrows, like frost through the land- 
 With eyes of fierce frore, he pierces the throng. 
 And snaps at the ground as he passes along. 
 
 As an animal wild, unloosed from his cage. 
 Flies hither and thither in search of his prey, 
 
 Incited by hunger, and goaded by rage, 
 
 He bites every object that comes in his way; 
 
 And drinks up the water wherever 'tis found, 
 
 Then away and away he goes with a bound. 
 
 Mad, fierce and courageous, he howls through the plain 
 And spreads freezing terror wherever he goes, 
 
 Nor slackens his speed, nor tightens his reins 
 In the fiercest of gales, in rain storms or snows; 
 
46 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 liut in the cold frost-land his recluse is chosen 
 Wliere th' air is congealed and ocean is frozen. 
 
 But Notus, fair dame of the south, with her wiles, 
 
 Comes conquering on like a float on the wing, 
 And flushes his face with the press of her smiles, 
 '' And quiets his howl by the music of spring; 
 Disrobes him of terror by a whiff of her breath, 
 And gives him sweet life by a genial death. 
 
 SELFISHNESS. 
 
 This world is one vast battlefield. 
 And mankind forms the armies; 
 
 Each one for self his weapon wield 
 And there is where the harm is. 
 
 The fight begins when life begins, 
 
 And all through life it rages; 
 And each with all the world contends— 
 
 It's been thus through all ages. 
 
 Some strive for love and some for fame. 
 Some for hate and some for pelf; 
 
 But each one through the love of gain. 
 Contends with all the world for self. 
 
 Each act, each deed, each wish in life, 
 The all of each man proves it; 
 
 ]5e it for peaceful meed or strife, 
 Some selfish motive moves it. 
 
 The merchant feigns a blandish smile. 
 
 And apes all modern graces, 
 And talks quite smooth that he might sell 
 
 His shelf-worn goods and laces. 
 
 The doctor sells his potent pills. 
 And tells of their great wonders; 
 
 But when, forsooth, his nostrum kills 
 The grave conceals his blunders. 
 
 The lawyer wears an honest mien, 
 
 And never slights a duty; 
 He first acquits the rogue, I ween. 
 
 And then bears off the booty. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 47 
 
 The parson bends the pregnant knee, 
 And praxes for saint and sinner; 
 
 But all the while, "Oh, God !" thinks he- 
 Let me come out the winner." 
 
 And thus the world goes on and on, 
 The all of each man proves it; 
 
 Be it for peaceful meed or song, 
 Some selfish motive moves it. 
 
 THE GODS OF OLD. 
 
 Great gods! Look'd down from bending skies 
 Through glowing eyes of sunlit stars : 
 
 The moon with sapient smiles arose 
 
 To blend her sweetest grace with Mars. 
 
 In every breeze that listed by, 
 
 The whispering of some god was heard : 
 In every cloud that fl^it the sky. 
 
 An easy couch for him was spread. 
 
 In tones of thunder oft he spoke 
 
 And lightning flash'd from out his eyes; 
 
 In zigzag skelp'd the mountain slope 
 And fill'd with lurid flame, the skies. 
 
 He rode upon the ocean waves 
 
 And ruled the raging storm with ease; 
 
 He plac'd the tints on matin rays 
 
 And sweet perfum'd the roses' leaves. 
 
 A god o'erlook'd the batUe-din 
 
 And fill the winding stream with gore; 
 
 A god bent o'er the faithful slain 
 
 And bore them to the peaceful shore. 
 
 A halo, round the mother's bed 
 Who smil'd upon the infant born. 
 
 By god with loving will was spread. 
 But oft, too oft, 'twas born to mourn. 
 
 A god control'd in things terene 
 
 And reign'd eternal on a throne; 
 His potent powers remain'd unseen; 
 
 His wishes taught, himself unknown. 
 
48 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 He moved upon the vasty deep; 
 
 Disrobed dead nature of its shroud; 
 Awoke the atomies from sleep ; 
 
 'Twas this! 'twas this, that man calFd god. 
 
 Those felt the most his secret test, 
 Who knew the least of Nature's laws: 
 
 Those know the most of God's behest, 
 Who know the least of natural cause. 
 
 THOMAS PAINE. 
 
 Thomas Paine, for his virtues, obtained the reproof 
 Of dishonest tongues and the frowns 
 
 Of tyrants, because he stood steadfast for the truth, 
 And worshiped its uttermost bounds. 
 
 He followed its trail 'cross the aqueous deep. 
 
 Where tyranny erstwhile had rest; 
 Where Liberty lay as a giant asleep, 
 
 On the rape of an innocent breast. 
 
 Paine wrote; the giant arose from his slumber. 
 
 With all his powers assembled; 
 Impel' d by his mind of magical wonder 
 
 Paine spoke; and tyranny trembled. 
 
 He arose with the mien of a cavalier brave, 
 And cleft the deep air with his spear, 
 
 And swore that Columbia should not be the grave 
 Of struggling liberty dear. 
 
 Tyranny, goaded to the verge of despair, 
 Suffused every throne with his groans; 
 
 But swore, "Liberty's stench should batten the air. 
 And bleach on the plains, his curs'd bones."" 
 
 "Ah! Wis thou?" the tyrant, with irony said, 
 
 "For ages in sleep you have lain." 
 " 'Tis true !" said Liberty, raising his head, 
 
 "I 'woke through the magic of Paine." 
 
 "Fy!" lipped the tyrant, and sardonically smiled; 
 
 "Your presumption is beyond measure; 
 Remember thou art but old England's child, 
 
 And she can chastise thee at pleasure." 
 
Poems of Leisure. 49 
 
 ••I oroaned, as a child, beneath Tyranny's ban," 
 
 Liberty replied with disdain; 
 *'Hut now 1 defy you, I grew to a man, 
 
 Through the magical powers of Paine." 
 
 Reaching forth, he caught Johnn}* Bull b\' the cuff 
 
 And placed his foot on him amain 
 And said, "You shall feel," as he gave him a bufl, 
 
 ••The magical powers of Paine." 
 
 TO MOLLIS. 
 
 I will within your album write, 
 
 As others here have pen'd; 
 And on this spotless page indict 
 
 The wishes of a friend. 
 
 I wish you all the joys of earth. 
 That honest maids may gain; 
 
 I wish you man}^ years of health. 
 Without an ache, or pain. 
 
 I wish your future may be grand, 
 
 And "times" not very hard; 
 I wish when you may give your hand, 
 
 You'll get a clever ^m'd. 
 
 I wish for him a pleasure, too. 
 
 When both of you are old. 
 That he can say, come weal! come woe I I 
 
 M.y fi'ozv would never scold. 
 
 I wish that you then, too, can say. 
 
 My pard was always good : 
 He's fed me well; and day by day. 
 
 Has cut my oven wood. 
 
 Now one thing more I will have pen'd. 
 
 Then wind this wishing up. 
 That when it raineth soup, mv friend. 
 
 Your dish be right side up. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 HYPATIA. 
 
 Hypatici, pure of heart, and learn' d was there. 
 
 Esteem'd of virtue and of g-race refined; 
 Whose eloquence of beauty, chaste and rare, 
 
 Won Orestes; and to her cultured mind, 
 Cynesius bovv'd a willing head; and 
 
 Theon lived thro' his favor'd daufjhter's brain. 
 Whose luster shed an honor tjreat and errand 
 
 On Plutonius; but it was in vain, 
 For C3^ril lived, who would her fame displace. 
 
 And in piece meal tore her fragile frame, 
 And on Coecarium wrote his own disarace — 
 
 Hypatia dead, but Cyril lives in shame. 
 
 WITTEN'S YEAST IS RISING. 
 
 To help a man out, by the name of Witten, who was the n^anutacturer 
 of a hop yeast, I advanced him some money. Afterwards, without authoritv, 
 he bought some articles of A. J. Fernigee. Not paying for them, Mr. Fer- 
 r-igee wrote that he would sue me, if I did not pay the bill. 
 
 You write to me, 
 
 Dear Fernigee, 
 That you're going to sue; 
 
 If that be so. 
 
 You ought to know. 
 The step you'll surely rue. 
 
 First note the cost. 
 
 And time, too, lost; 
 Make, too, a calculation; 
 
 If you svicceed. 
 
 How much you'll bleed 
 In purse and botheration. 
 
 These legal fights. 
 
 Cause wakeful nights. 
 And trouble through the day: 
 
 You scarce begin 
 
 The naughty thing. 
 Before you have to pay. 
 
 You'll find, dear sir. 
 The officer, 
 Before he serves vour writs. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 5^ 
 
 Will hint to thee 
 To pay his fee, 
 Or you may look for fits. 
 
 And you will learn, 
 
 Quite soon, dear Fern., 
 This is no empty dream; 
 
 The parties get 
 
 The curded milk; 
 The lawyers get the cream. 
 
 Why you should now 
 
 Kick up a row, 
 To me is quite surprising; 
 
 If you'll keep still. 
 
 You'll get your bill, 
 For Witten's yeast is rising. 
 
 THE MEASURE OF RIGHT. 
 
 •'Please, sir, give me what you can," 
 
 Of an aged and truthful man, 
 
 I asked; "and all you have, of light. 
 
 That guides the mind to what is right." 
 
 "Right, sir, is gaged, full well I know, 
 
 Against the cause of weakest foe. 
 
 On him the frown of contempt stays. 
 
 The arm of strength commands the bays. 
 
 The lauds aloud from out the world 
 
 Is poured upon the flag unfurl'd, 
 
 And laureates the victor's stand 
 
 The noble chief; the valiant band, 
 
 And execrate as sinful flows 
 
 The fell'd one's plea, his ruined cause; 
 
 For this is true, whate'er the cause. 
 
 Success is greeted with applause. 
 
 And most mankind with smiles contend. 
 
 To give Success a helping hand. 
 
 And with a bow, though dark the deeds. 
 
 Commend the stroke where Victory leads. 
 
 And with false servile smiles extend 
 
 The hand of welcome as a friend. 
 
 But what chagrin and woeful wail 
 
 Befall on those who start and fail? 
 
Poems of JLeisure. 
 
 A struggling soul, e'en on the strand 
 Can scarcely get a helping hand; 
 And when received, this fact suppress, 
 It comes from those too, in distress. 
 
 From springs of sorrow, kindness flows, 
 Affliction feels another's woes. 
 A tear will trinkle unrestrained 
 When Want perceives a fellow pained ; 
 And Want would languish at the door 
 Did not the poor care for the poor. 
 
 RKAD THEIR FATE BETWEEN THE LINES. 
 
 We are living, we are acting 
 In a grand and glorious time, 
 
 And the ages we are moulding 
 Will bring their ultimates sublime. 
 
 We are reaping from the ages. 
 
 Reaching back to long ago ; 
 We are reading from the pages. 
 
 Wrote in words of human woe. 
 
 Pages that portrav the actions 
 
 Of the ruling spirits then; 
 Of the grim tumultuous factions, 
 
 And the crimes of many men. 
 
 Of the wars and revolutions. 
 Failures and successes grand; 
 
 Of contentions and commotions 
 That for aye have filled the land. 
 
 But there is a sadder reading. 
 Of those dark and gloomy times: 
 
 Which is worthy of our heeding; 
 'Tis read between the written lines, 
 
 'Tis the reading of the anguish 
 
 Wrung from bleeding hearts and sad : 
 
 Hearts that grieve unknown and languish, 
 With the living: and the dead. 
 
 'Tis the anguish of the lone one, 
 "Tis the wailing of the weak. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 It is the patient, helpless throng 
 That of their wrong, never speak. 
 
 Those that struggle on in sorrow 
 With no other hope in view ; 
 
 Moil to-day and mourn to-morrow; 
 'Tis the millions for the few. 
 
 It is the millions for the few, 
 
 'Twas the same in ancient times; 
 
 Which facts are veil'd from public view; 
 Are only read between the lines. 
 
 We are living, we are acting, 
 
 In an age and at a time, 
 And if we are up and doing 
 
 We can make our lives sublime. 
 
 We can change the wheel of power 
 And its weight on these dark times; 
 
 We can make Oppression cower. 
 And read his fate between the lines. 
 
5^ Poems, of JLeisure. 
 
 VWV. SPRITE OF GLEN BOKEN. 
 
 Near the old (iU-ii Hokcn. at tlu' break ol" the sea, 
 
 Where the billows are dashetl to death on the stones, 
 
 A dense, shanj^y woodlantl stands back I'roni the lea 
 And irovvns in grim visage at th' hall-covered bones 
 
 '["hat lay in its breaks, all decayin<jj and bare, 
 
 Like dreatl leaves in the book of human despair. 
 
 One e\'entide gloonn', in a halt Irjohien'd tread, 
 
 Enhanctnl b\' tlie moans in the trees of Glen Boken. 
 
 1 thought as I went ol the wails of the dead; 
 "l^he glare of their eyes and appeals last spok'n. 
 
 When (inoman, the pirate, chose this as the wold 
 
 ()l his \'iclims, that perished through his greed for gold. 
 
 1 thou ;lit of tlu' maiK's that in darkness here strom'd. 
 
 Halt mullletl in shadows all gloom\' in gore — 
 1 thought ol the s[5irits reUirning that own'd 
 
 The blood that enriched here the earth, long before. 
 My hair commenced rising and mv Mesh creeping, 
 It seenu'il to me plainly a sjiectre was speaking 
 
 From each cragg\' tree top. M\- jiick and mv spatle. 
 
 Companions most dear to \\\\ heart, in this stroam. 
 Fell from mv trembling hands and on th' grouiul laid. 
 
 Then I wished, how I wished, I was not alone 
 in this gloomy woodland where the hoot of great owls. 
 Kept echoing back the refrain of grim gliouls. 
 
 1 thought ol legends told by tlenizens old. 
 
 Near the breaks and fell ol yawning Glen Boki'ii. 
 
 "Twas saiil that the pirate secreted his gold, 
 
 Th" seal ol whose secret had ne\'er been broken 
 
 Except by the legends of old people told. 
 
 That hard by CtIcii Boken he'd buried his gold. 
 
 My arm lelt reniM-\ed and 1 grabbed tor my spade. 
 
 For Iknew, well I knew, from legends quite old. 
 That Gnoman, the pirate, had here about laid 
 
 The guilt of his calling, his crime-gotten gold. 
 "I'd give half the gains,"" 1 convulsively thought, 
 "If I could find a seer to piiint out the spot."' 
 
 Net 1 was conlirmed, with my pick and my spatle. 
 Now tight in mv hands held, both restive and bold. 
 
Poems of Incisure. 55 
 
 That before the night waned, with my burnished blade 
 
 I'd be breakin<2f the lock of that chest of gold; 
 And soon I could strut with my coffers well filTd, 
 But refrained from the thought of the groans of the kill'd. 
 
 Th' possessor of that which 1 wished to possess, 
 1 knew for his crimes I was not in th' blame, 
 
 But felt half inclined to kneel down and confess, 
 
 That the jingle of gold drowns th' feelings of shame 
 
 And honors the brow, though with guilt thickly spread. 
 
 By wronging the li\'ing and robbing the dead. 
 
 While thus I was thinking — half speaking alone, 
 In that gloom hanging woodland of Glen Boken, 
 
 Where the moon never smiled and tlie sun never shone 
 In that shadow of shadows, this was spoken 
 
 And plainly, quit." plainly, it fell on my ear 
 
 As if it was uttered by some knowing seer: 
 
 "I'll point you the spot where the treasure is hid. 
 But first, a word I will give you of warning; 
 
 I warn you to note it, and heed it," he said, 
 
 "Take what you will, but depart before morning, 
 
 For if you are found here, in th' morn's early bloom 
 
 You'll feel the full wage of a wizard's deep gloom." 
 
 Whose smile is ecstatic, but follows his frowns, 
 The pall of remorse and the trail of distress. 
 
 This fell is his reign. Here his shadow abounds. 
 His wish is his will, and here Cimmerius 
 
 Obeys and blights with his look whoe'er is found 
 
 At th' breaking of light in this ghoul-haunted ground. 
 
 "I swear by my soul, dearest guard," I replied, 
 "To leave here ere morning, if I but behold 
 
 The spot where old Gnoman did actually hide. 
 
 From the ken of the world, his treasures of gold." 
 
 "Then come," he said, in a sepulchral tone, 
 
 "But tread n )t upon a skull, or a bone." 
 
 ••Come, I will conduct you 'mid shadow and gloom, 
 To the spot, very spot, where Gnoman of old 
 
 Secreted his spoils ; where he buried the boon 
 Of his crimes. But beware, for many I've told 
 
 Where Gnoman, the pirate, had buried his gold, 
 
 F>ut all disre<>"arded what vou I have told." 
 
^6 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 "Like millions of others, entrammel'd by greed, 
 Forget the prime lessons of life, often told, 
 
 And embarrass themselves with wrongs, ere they heed 
 The warning of risking too much for bright gold. 
 
 Beware of the shades and the mantle of night, 
 
 Their shrouds are dissolved by the glow of the light/" 
 
 Over the cliffs of rocks and down throu<rh the glen, 
 I followed my chaperone with pick and spade 
 
 To a darker dark place, forbidding, and then 
 He halted, and in a coarse whisper he said: 
 
 "This is the spot that environs his sins 
 
 And this is the hour that sorrow begins." 
 
 I took up my pick, and with might, and with main, 
 I cleft the tough sward that thick around laid; 
 
 I severed its bosom and rootlets in twain 
 
 And then with skill deftly, I took up my spade, 
 
 And the second deep delve to my utter surprise 
 
 I struck the old chest containing the prize. 
 
 As quick as old Niffin, I bursted the lock; 
 
 Threw the lid open wide, and lo ! and behold 
 Lay millions before me. Imagine my shock ! 
 
 If the inmates of hell had taken the wold, 
 A more hideous laugh and demon-like scream, 
 Would not have my poor soul pierced keener. I ween 
 
 A more frightful noise was before never heard. 
 
 Those shaggy old tree tops, and tangled vine bows 
 Were adorned with delvers for gold, by a word 
 
 From the wizard spoken, and now to arouse 
 Me again said: "Metamorphosed like they 
 Are, will you be, if found here at break of day." 
 
 "I thank you, my friend, for your caution so queer, 
 
 I feel in no peril of being like they; 
 I'll gather my gold ere the sun's rays appear 
 
 And away I will go to my home by the sea." 
 "Ha! ha! ! ha! ! ! they all think that," he said, and smiled. 
 "Hark at their song, now, so weird and wild." 
 
 Gold ! gold ! ! glittering gold ! ! ! 
 Under the grassroots and under the mould, 
 It brings more distress to millions, we're told. 
 Than poverty's wage on the young and the old. 
 
 Gold ! gold ! ! glittering gold ! ! ! 
 Under the grass roots and under the mould." 
 
Poems of Leisure. 57 
 
 "Delve, delve, devil's work done, 
 From the shades of night to the break of the sun; 
 Thus have our courses for ages been run, 
 Always are delving, but never get done ; 
 
 Delve, delve, devil's work done 
 From the shades of night to the break of the sun.'" 
 
 ••Of gold, I've enough," I said. "I wall go now. 
 
 But going, I leave here a sigh of regret. 
 I can buy me a home, a pig and a cow. 
 
 My wife a new gown, my daughter a jacket. 
 With this I can get all the comforts of life. 
 
 And live like a prince with my daughter and wife. 
 
 How temping it looks I Must I go quite so soon? 
 
 I'll take one more eagle, 'twill come in good play: 
 It lies there so useless: that shininfr doubloon 
 
 Seems tempting, I may need that some future dav. 
 Now, while I'm providing for declining days 
 I'll provide me to ride to church in a chaise. 
 
 Willi my ruffles all starched and my hair in a queue 
 I'll go riding along like a lord in his pride: 
 
 ril batten the parson, I'll rent me a pew; 
 
 Mv child, winsome lass, on a palfry shall ride; 
 
 Like quality folks we will revel in wine; 
 
 We'll rise about ten, and at six o'clock, dine. 
 
 I'll play at the cards and throw tricky dices; 
 
 Will win the esteem of the rich and the grand 
 By learning their manners and aping th&ir vices: 
 
 I'll sport velvet fingers and glove-incased hand : 
 I'll dress in neat fashion from tip to the toe. 
 And always in circles the best I will go. 
 
 Ah ! that demoniacal veil, half laug-h, half scream. 
 Shocks every nerve and is wrecking m}^ brain; 
 
 Those delving old miners are laughing, I ween. 
 At my speculations; but ah! they again 
 
 Are turned to grim spectres, a horrible sight. 
 
 *'Yes," whispered the wizard, "the morn's earlv light."" 
 
 Ah I the morn's shooting gra}^ is streaking the sky. 
 And I must awa3s my work is complete. 
 
 Where is my gold? It has disappeared, and I 
 Am bewildered and witched, and mv verv feet 
 
5^ 
 
 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Are grown to the turf and myself to a tree. 
 And all the years hence my moaning shall be 
 
 Gold ! gold ! ! glittering gold !,! ! 
 
 Has caused more anguish than ever was told : 
 
 r3elusive to youth, deceptive to old, 
 
 A snare to the weak, a bait for the bold. 
 
 Gold ! gold ! ! glittering gold ! ! ! 
 
 Has caused more anguish than ever was told. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 59 
 
 THE INFINITUDES. 
 
 ETERNITY. 
 
 Oh ! thou eternity, in vain 
 
 I strive to fathom thee; 
 Could I count the sands, grain by grain, 
 
 That gird the mighty sea, 
 A thousand years might roll between, 
 
 Each number of a sand, 
 Which under grand old ocean gleam 
 
 And glisten in the strand. 
 Then could I take them one by one. 
 
 And bear them from the sea. 
 One moment will not have begun — 
 
 Such is eternity. 
 
 MATTER. 
 
 Oh ! thou omnipotent 
 
 And omnipresent 
 Infinitude, Matter, 
 Thee we adore. 
 Thy modes of expressions. 
 
 And infinitude after 
 Infinitude of manifestations, 
 And thy power 
 
 Are inexpressible 
 
 And incomprehensible. 
 Thou art the one great all that is, 
 
 Was, or ever can be; 
 You hold the two eternities. 
 
 Oh! thou ubiquity; 
 Thy arms reach out from sphere to sphere : 
 Thy bosom vast all force contains; 
 Thou art the sum of ev'ry where. 
 Of life and soul and all the things 
 
 Within the universe, or out, 
 
 Formed and unformed, and phas'd thou art 
 Into the infinitesimal; 
 The beautiful of the beautiful. 
 Thou art the one great, grand 
 Consummation of the grand 
 Whole. The substance and substratum 
 Of ev'ry sphere and ev'ry atom; 
 Thou art the one without beginning, 
 
6o Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Indestructible, without ending; 
 Thou the visible 
 And invisible 
 Of all things, 
 By thyself brought forth. 
 
 We know springs 
 From thy omniscient worth, 
 Every entity and birth. 
 
 Ring thy praise on every ear, 
 
 To e\'ery eye thy grandeur gleams: 
 ■ Thy throne is the eternal sphere 
 
 Of space; thy life the omniscient dreams 
 Of time. 
 And thine. 
 Is the unrivaled power. 
 Kingdom, glory, forever. 
 
 SPACE. 
 
 A thought might span a thousand lives. 
 
 Like bounding to the sun. 
 Then on I fly on, while Time survixes. 
 
 Yet Space lies farther on. 
 
 Could lightning stride the universe 
 
 Like twinkling of an eye, 
 It could not, during time, traverse 
 
 The space beyond the sky. 
 
 Could man cement a thousand minds, 
 
 A thousand thoughts in one. 
 He could not reach its vast confines. 
 
 That space beyond the sun. 
 
 Fly on as light flies in its speed, 
 
 Or sight glimpse in its train. 
 Till seas shall take the mountain's stead 
 
 And ocean fill the plain. 
 
 Fly while the sun in splendor glows, 
 
 The stars in beauty shine ; 
 Fly while the tide of ocean flows. 
 
 The moon her course incline. 
 
 Fly till the earth shall be no more, 
 Till Time shall cease its race; 
 
 Lies thy expanse still on before, 
 The vast domain of space. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 6i 
 
 OUR MOTHER HAS LEFT US. 
 
 On coming home from the Watkins Glen Freethinkers' convention, full 
 of hopes, and happy in the expectation of realizing, at no distant day, man, as 
 brother to brother bound. Revolving in our minds the pleasing incidents of 
 the convention and renewing in our hearts the pleasant and esteemed ac- 
 quaintances there formed, with a desire to meet them on many like occasions 
 and renew the bonds of friendship and good will. But alas! that flow of joy 
 and fervent heart glow of pleasure was transformed into the deepest grief by 
 being struck with the sad news of the death of our wife's mother, Elizabeth 
 Cunningham, of Joplin, Mo., who died August 22nd, 1882. She had been 
 sick for several months, but we thought she was getting better and would soon 
 be restored to health. That thought proved a delusion, and good old mother 
 pas.sed to the call of nature and left a void in the circle that can never be 
 filled again. What a blow it was to the buoyant heart of our wife. She was 
 not prepared for such sad news, and it fell like a pall on her spirits. 
 
 Our good mother was sixty-five years old. She was devoted to her chil- 
 dren and family. She is entitled to the highest encomium that can be placed 
 on any woman : which is, she was a true mother. 
 
 She was laid away by the side of her son. Winfield P. Cunningham, in 
 the Carthage cemetery, where she rests in peace; beloved by all who knew 
 her, and reverenced with lasting affection by her family. 
 
 We can but imagine we see her sweetly, quietly sleeping, and in our 
 heart must say : 
 
 Fold her hands gently 
 
 Across her calm breast, 
 Close her eyes tenderly, 
 
 In peace let her rest. 
 
 Smooth down her silken locks, 
 
 Adjust them with care — 
 How calm and sweet she looks, 
 
 How pure, and yet fair. 
 
 Wipe her face carefully. 
 
 In love bathe her brow. 
 Care for her lovingly, 
 
 Attentively now. 
 
 Arrange a rose neatly. 
 
 To smile on her breast. 
 Portraying so sweetly 
 
 Her Eden of rest. 
 
 A gift from Rosary 
 
 Should garland her bier: 
 As dew on each flower 
 
 Should glisten a tear. 
 
62 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Take her up gently, 
 With sorrow profound : 
 
 Bear her off easily 
 And lisp not a sound. 
 
 Let her down carefully, 
 Easily and kind ; 
 
 Turn not sorrowfully, 
 To leave her behind. 
 
 Now cover her neatly, 
 Exchange not a word, 
 
 That she may sleep sweetly 
 Beneath the green sward. 
 
 It should not now grieve us 
 To go away home, 
 
 She does not now need us. 
 She is not alone. 
 
 The angels will guard her. 
 Birds merrily sing. 
 
 The flowers that wither 
 Returneth each Spring. 
 
 She, like the bright fllowers 
 That wither and die, 
 
 Will smile again ours 
 
 In the sweet "by and by.' 
 
 Turn from the sepulchre. 
 She resteth there well. 
 
 Bid a by-bye to her, 
 But say not farewell. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 6}^ 
 
 RATIONAL THANKSGIVING. 
 
 Our national chief has ordered this day 
 
 Set apart from our daily vocations. 
 We're ordered to thank, give praise and to pray 
 To the Lord for his kind applications 
 Of manifold blessings untold. 
 The rich render thanks for a plethoric purse. 
 
 The well, for their health and vigor of frame; 
 The poor may thank God, that things are no worse, 
 The sick ma}' thank him for not having more pain 
 Than their feeble bodies can hold. 
 
 II. 
 The preachers thank God and claim that He willed 
 
 Turkeys well fatted and chickens all dressed ; 
 Houses neat furnished and larders well filled 
 With luxuries of life, for money possessed 
 And other things had for mere asking. 
 He's thanked for our laws and wealth of our nation. 
 
 For bountiful crops and peace through the land, 
 For Independence He's paid adoration — 
 
 Our freedom, it is said, came b}^ his command. 
 And all other things by his tasking. 
 
 III. 
 If preachers for chickens to God are indebted. 
 
 If He's the provider of what they admire, 
 Who should the chickens thank for being beheaded.^ 
 Who should the turkeys thank for not roosting higher 
 And saving themselves from the pot? 
 If God gave us peace and plenty of mammon. 
 
 And gladdened our hearts with provisions in stort- : 
 Who should the thousands thank dying from famine? 
 Who should the nations thank bleeding from war? 
 Or a soldier wounded by shot? 
 
 IV. 
 
 If the rich should thank God because they're not poor. 
 For their gold in the bank and government bonds; 
 
 For ships on the sea and railroads on shore, 
 For great lowing herds and rich fertile lands. 
 With a life of pleasure and ease ; 
 
 Who should the poor thank for poverty's wage: 
 For hollow-eyed Want, that stands at the door: 
 
 For hunger and rags and homeless old age ; 
 
64 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 For the kicks and cuffs that fall to the poor, 
 And other sweet morsels like these? 
 
 V. 
 
 Who should we thank for the wars of the crusades, 
 
 For the blood that was spilled, for the lives that they cost. 
 For the woe that marked the dreary dark ages. 
 
 When learning was banished and the sciences lost. 
 And their votaries hunted like beasts ; 
 Who should we thank for the Lord's long sable reign. 
 
 When witches were burned and heretics slaughtered : 
 When the sky was begrimed with fagot and flame; 
 
 When infants were murdered and mothers were quartered. 
 To hallow the church of the priests? 
 
 VI. 
 
 If God gives us health and vigor of frame, 
 
 Making us hearty, hale, active and strong. 
 Who sends our distresses, sickness and pain. 
 
 And burdens the millions struggling on. 
 Contending with fate and diseases? 
 Who should the deformed, the crippled from birth. 
 
 The sickly, the blind, halt, helpless and lame, 
 Praise for their ailments and crosses of earth ? 
 
 If God controls all things, who should they blame 
 For sending those ills when he pleases? 
 
 VII. 
 
 If God commands plenty and pleasure at will. 
 
 And holds all the good things of life in his hand. 
 Who brings the scourges, all pestilence and ill 
 Luck to the people, throughout the broad land, 
 To ve.\ us and curse us through life? 
 Why force on a being our homage and praise. 
 
 For sending more evil to mankind than good; 
 For sending the curses of war and disease, 
 
 Earthquakes and storms, cyclones, fire and flood, 
 Seasoned with crime, bloodshed and strife? 
 
 vui. 
 A mother must thank God for her prattling babe. 
 For the pleasure and joy it brings to her heart; 
 Then thank him again when its dear form is laid 
 In the cold chilly ground and she must depart. 
 With her heart in the grave buried there. 
 Who should we thank when death comes to the door. 
 And takes from the circle our loveliest bloom. 
 
Poems of Leism'e. 65 
 
 And bears it away to be with us no more, 
 And renders its memory our saddest gloom, 
 And its death an infliction severe. 
 
 IX. 
 
 We could thank with more grace if God would but turn 
 
 His business affairs into more even channels; 
 If he'd equalize things and give more concern 
 
 To the wails of distress, and less to the trammels 
 That curse the whole human race. 
 If he would but change his manner of doing, 
 
 Make pleasure the rule and not the exception 
 To life; render us happy and not be sowing 
 
 The seeds of sorrow, woe, strife and contention. 
 To bring us down to disgrace. 
 
 X. 
 
 *'Render to Caesar the things which are Caesar's, 
 
 And to the Lord which belong to the Lord," 
 Is a rule of his own, and very well pleases 
 
 My sense of duty, and ought to accord 
 With the author's conception of right. 
 Then should we e'er meet in the world yet to come, 
 
 I'll risk my whole case on the rule he made here, 
 And render to Caesar that which is his own, 
 
 Although it deprives the good Lord over there 
 Of thanks from my heart here to-night. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Who should we thank for the flag that waves o'er us, 
 
 For the glow of its stripes and its glittering stars; 
 Who bore it aloft in conflicts before us, 
 
 Who brought to us victory in all of our wars; 
 Was it God? No. But our fathers. 
 Who spilled their blood in Old Revolution, 
 
 And left their bones bleaching on many a field ; 
 Who laid down their lives with patriot's devotion. 
 And sank in the conflict rather than yield. 
 Was it God, or our forefathers? 
 
 xn. 
 Who severed the chains that bound us as slaves? 
 
 Who gave us our rights as a nation of freemen ? 
 Whose weatherbeat bones lie in unknown graves, 
 That we have the rights of freemen and women, 
 Was it God? I answer no. 
 Who sent her last son to the battles' fierce brawl, 
 Who kissed his fair cheek and bade him to go 
 
66 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 To return to her, only when tyranny's pall 
 
 Should cover the form of our country's last foe? 
 Was it God? A thousand times no. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Whose bones dot the sun-scorched fields of the South ? 
 
 Who met the foe when rebellion had risen? 
 Who read his own death in the cannon's dark mouth? 
 
 Who was it that famished in Anderson prison? 
 Was it God? My heart responds no. 
 Who struck the fetters from three million slaves? 
 
 Who saved this nation in tact, as a whole? 
 Who rightly deserves our devotion and praise ? 
 
 Whose name shall be written on Honor's bright scroll 
 Is it God's? The world should say no. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Who furrows the face of the deep raging sea, 
 
 And sails every ocean, around and around? 
 Who causes our flag to float easy and free 
 
 In every part of the world to be found? 
 Is it God? You know it is not. 
 Then let us not thank him for what he's not done, 
 
 Nor force our obeisance upon him again; 
 'Tis better his name remain ever un.sung, 
 
 Than those be forgotten who made us freemen 
 And gave us the land we have got. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 67 
 
 A SONG TO BACCHUS. 
 
 Let those who wish to please by prayer, 
 Invoke the god which suits them; 
 
 But we can please the Bacchian ear 
 The best by song or anthem. 
 
 This patron god smiles on the vine 
 And loads its pendent tresses, 
 
 With grapes that make the ruby wine 
 That sparkles in our glasses. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then pour us some wine, 
 
 The soul of the vine, 
 It makes our nerves tingle, each quaff; 
 
 It first will beguile 
 
 Our lips to a smile, 
 And then we break out with a laugh. 
 Ha! ha!! ha!!! ha! ha!! ha!! ! 
 
 It makes us feel fine 
 
 When jolly good wine. 
 Goes dancing through our veins, ha! ha I ! 
 
 I envy not the epicure. 
 
 Nor will the judgment flatter. 
 
 Of him who feels himself secure 
 By filling up on water. 
 
 Cold water is a useful thing 
 
 Like all things else, I'm thinking? 
 
 'Twill do to float great vessels in, 
 But will not do for drinking. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
68 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 A LAWYER'S STORY. 
 
 The lawyers are 
 
 Proverbial for 
 Their stories quaint and pithy; 
 
 They often run 
 
 To doubtful fun, 
 But sometinies are quite witty. 
 
 One day they sat 
 
 In chit, chit, chat 
 On subjects dry and old; 
 
 Until one spoke, 
 
 Let's have a joke I 
 Squiggs has a new 'n, I'm told. 
 
 Squiggs, out with one, 
 Let's have some fun ! 
 
 The world rolls easy by, 
 Squiggs very droll, 
 Said, " 'Pon my soul 
 
 I never tell a lie." 
 
 "If you don't choke 
 
 On that huge joke, 
 A lie is not worth telling," 
 
 Tom Jones replied, 
 
 Then d roily sighed. 
 And set the tother yelling. 
 
 "My native pride," 
 
 Squiggs then replied; 
 "Precludes my story telling; 
 
 I'll break the rule. 
 
 If you'l be cool, 
 And stop that 'fernal yelling. 
 
 But I forsooth 
 
 Must tell the truth, 
 I can't do otherwise; 
 
 If that won't do 
 
 To amuse you. 
 Friend Jones will tell you lies. 
 
 One night last June 
 Bright was the moon, 
 
Poems of Leisure. 69 
 
 I heard a chant of groans; 
 
 I knew in fine 
 
 The cause was wine — 
 Sit still, don't blush so Jones. 
 
 Poor fellow tugg'd 
 And puU'd and hugg'd, 
 
 To keep a post from falling;" — 
 "Now drat your bones!" 
 Exclaimed poor Jones, 
 
 "That's a whopper you're telling." 
 
 THE SPHYNX. 
 
 It makes us sad. It brings a sigh, 
 To see an old religion die. 
 Like some great leviathan strong, 
 It wreathes, struggles, holds out long 
 
 Against the inevitable. 
 
 The law is irrevocable; 
 "That which had a beginning 
 Must also have an ending." 
 The gods we love, adore, admire, 
 Must find, at last, a funeral pyre. 
 E'en those, who now are most ador'd 
 Will in time become ignored. 
 Like all the myths of ages cast 
 Be relegated to the past, 
 And other fancies, other themes 
 Engross the mind with other dreams. 
 
 The future will attune its lays 
 
 To sing of our benighted ways, 
 
 As we can speak in thunder tones 
 
 Of ucas from those sculptured stones, 
 
 When Thebes smiled on a fertile plain 
 
 And flourish'd through the thousands slain, 
 
 Who worship' d twixt the Sphynx's paws 
 
 And paid obeisance to its laws, 
 
 Which from its stone mind came evolved 
 
 'Till Oedipus brought the riddle solved. 
 
 Now in a bed of unwash'd sands,* 
 
 In silence and in solitude 
 Its cold, black form in wonder blends 
 
*Jo Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Its weakness with its magnitude. 
 
 Three thousand years have come and gone, 
 Three thousand circles sank to rest, 
 
 Since Thebans raised a sacred song 
 To please this monster's stolid breast. 
 
 This god is dead, the lichen deigns 
 
 Not to adorn his begrim'd form; 
 No ivy mantles his remains, 
 
 Or grass around his bier is grown. 
 
 Amphion, by his tuneful lyret 
 
 Reared the city's lofty head; 
 Now silence marks its funeral pyre 
 
 For we are told its god is dead. 
 
 *The Spliynx now marking the site of ancient Thebes, is heaped around 
 by sand that is absolutely barren of all kinds of vegetation. 
 
 fit was a tradition among the Thebans that Amphion built the walls of 
 their city by the sound of his lyre. 
 
 
Poems of Leisure. 7^ 
 
 THE EARTH. 
 
 Oh! beautiful, beautiful earth! 
 
 Rivers long and oceans wide and deep, 
 
 Silver lakes and air of mighty sweep, 
 Allow my thoughts reverent birth. 
 
 Awake my heart again from sleep 
 And lift my sluggish mind from the throw 
 Of gloom, that I may see and know 
 
 Thy fullness and grandeur complete. 
 
 Oh ! let me drink thy flowing beauty in ; 
 Ken clouds upon their aqueous wing ; 
 And all of nature's bounteous weal. 
 Oh ! let me appreciate and feel. 
 
 Bright morning fair, dew-dress' d and cool 
 Be a teacher to me. Thy school 
 Of loveliness will grace impart, 
 Add meekness to a wiUing heart. 
 Subdue my mind to thy control, 
 Awake the windows of my soul 
 To see the glowing sun at noon 
 
 And stars that get the sky above, 
 That twinkle at the swimming moon 
 
 Discoursing symphonies of love. 
 
 On the new life-bud of swelling spring, 
 
 Flush on the cheek of Nature fair, 
 Latonia flits a balmy wing 
 
 And prints her kisses, rich and rare. 
 That bursts into the summer bloom 
 
 And ripens into autumn sear, 
 Reminders that the turn of noon 
 
 Tvpifies man's short journey here. 
 
 Oh ! parent of our present bourn, 
 Bend on me thy enchanting face, 
 
 And drive from me the frown ill-born. 
 And plant within my bosom grace, 
 
 That I may see thee as thou art; 
 
 The all of good, the ev'ry part; 
 
 The all there is of Heaven's store; 
 
 The now, the was, the evermore. 
 
 Oh ! beautiful, beautiful earth ! 
 
72 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 The grave of all, our life, our birth. 
 To the mind unwed to guile 
 The earth presents a living smile ; 
 'Tis seen in all of nature sweet, 
 The bending sky, the ocean deep, 
 The brook that murmurs at the feet; 
 The balmy air, the tuneful birds; 
 The lambkins gay, the lowing herds, 
 And all the world, wiih joys prolong 
 The measures of its rhythmic song. 
 
 Where can man, in his dreams afar. 
 Find greater field for bliss than here? 
 Oh ! earth I love thee ! I adore 
 Thy completeness ; I love thee, the more 
 I know of thee and thy rich store. 
 
 Oh! thou art full of lovely things; 
 
 From each atom rightly known 
 And appreciated, there springs 
 
 An interesting beauty, shown 
 Through its fife. A rich treasure 
 To the mind, a glorious pleasure 
 Meeting every want of the soul; 
 Every demand in the control 
 Of our nature, finds solace here, — 
 Use and beauty reign everywhere. 
 
 Nature vast in its casualties 
 
 Has produced more realities 
 
 Than the dreamer of dreams can find 
 
 Within his sleepy, rambling mind. 
 
 In its wildest fancies. The eyes 
 
 Ken beauties all around. The skies, 
 
 The earth, the air, the ocean deep 
 
 And tiny grass have tongues that speak, 
 
 And tell of latent beauties hidden 
 
 In the womb of Time. Forbidden 
 
 To the dull, dead mind, 
 
 That can only find 
 
 Pleasure through the appetite, 
 
 And joy in the sable night 
 
 Of man's austere ignorance, 
 
 That now admits of no defense. 
 
 The rock-ribbed mountains speak to us 
 
Poems of Leisure. 73 
 
 In tones grandiloquent. The rill 
 
 That trinkles down their aged sides 
 Join their symphonies, that sweetly till 
 
 The heart with love, as downward glides 
 The limpid waters to vales below, 
 Where they may join the onward flow 
 Of the slow-moving placid stream, 
 As away to the ocean main 
 It flows, and where at last 
 Is swallowed up and lost 
 
 In its own immensity! 
 
 Oh ! what intensity 
 Of thought and admiration thrills 
 Our very soul to view great hills, 
 Whose vine-clad brows with grace arise 
 To rift the curtains of the skies. 
 
 Beauty's fondest dreams of the sward 
 And dew-kissed flowers, still afford 
 The sweetest pleasure as they send 
 Their fragrance on the breeze, to blend 
 Their lovely smiles with whispering morn, 
 And dally on the new joys borne 
 By sun-lit rays of gleaming light, 
 As they paint on the skirts of night 
 The rosy tint of day unshent 
 By sable folds of darkness spent. 
 The subHmity of the flash 
 
 Of lightning, around the mountain 
 Brow, playing, as the heavy crash 
 
 Of thunder breaks on the fountain 
 Of nerve centres, as it bounds 
 
 From side to side, from crest to crest. 
 Sending back echoes in its rounds. 
 
 Falling fainter and fainter, till lost 
 In the dim, distant murmurings 
 Of the far wide plains' surroundings ; 
 Find only their like in the inspired 
 
 Grandeur, fearful to despair, 
 Of a raging sea storm, stirred 
 
 With a mad and furious air; 
 Wrought to boiling gnarls, as it wreathes 
 To burst its rock confines, and breathes 
 A painful, mingling, distressing roar, 
 
74 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 As it. clashes and lashes the shore 
 
 III its terrible iury. Deep 
 
 Running" waves aiul surges sweep 
 
 The ocean bed. Mists ascending" 
 
 The while, with li^htniiv^'s Idare biciidin^. 
 
 And lending new terror, to ihi' seem-. 
 
 Hut when the storm winds hill. 
 
 And thi' swilt sea ^ull 
 l)is|K)rts above the waves serene, 
 And the sun laps its j^olden rays 
 On the rolling, silvery sea waves. 
 As they subside to a peaceful caliu. 
 The well trained mind in puri' ra[Mun' tlu-ii 
 Drinks in a new relreshinn- zest, 
 And thinks this, of all the workls, the best. 
 
 The real ol the earth is mort; vvonderlul. 
 
 And its unl'oldments more beautiful 
 
 To the true child ol thoui^hl 
 
 Than Concepticjii ever wrought, 
 
 Or Fancy can portray. 
 
 Yes ! It bears the soul away 
 
 To the realms of ecstatic bliss. 
 
 As the unclouded \w\\\(\ i^oes out 
 T'o where the sky and ocean kiss. 
 
 And silver wavi'lets play about 
 Tlu' l;uii;hin<4" moonbeams ot nit^htfall. 
 
 How the swellin;^ heart, brimming' lull! 
 Of sweet emotions, thrills the nerves ! 
 When the eye of beauty lirsl observes 
 The fairest gleams of morning, sending 
 
 Like golden ribbons uj) the sky ; 
 Its lluslu's pure, and freshly blending 
 With Night's dark curtain, spri'ad across 
 The surface of the star-lit dorse. 
 To let the king of Da}^ pass by. 
 
 Yes, smiling earth and starlit skies 
 
 Contain glorious mysteries 
 
 For man to investigjite. 
 
 And, if of use, appropriate 
 
 To his own desires and needs; 
 
 For nature smiles where knowledge leads. 
 
 And knowledge leads to pleasure — 
 
Poems of Leisure. 75 
 
 In nature lies the treasure. 
 
 Oh, glorious, sweet necessity ! 
 
 Let us love, praise and honor thee, 
 
 The one bright jewel in nature's course, 
 
 The resultant of dynamic force ! 
 
 Our Home, our Earth and our heaven, 
 
 Most beautiful, beautiful heaven. 
 
 Oh I judge me not a sinner blind; 
 
 With heart seduced to evil ways; 
 Till you unfold unto my mind 
 
 A fairer world tlian this to praise. 
 
 THE RAINBOW. 
 
 When the far western sky is red, 
 
 We often turn the eye, 
 And ken the rainbow deftly spread 
 
 Across the eastern sky 
 To trace it where its grandeur blends 
 With azure at the dipjiing ends; 
 Where we, in youthful years, were told, 
 Were always found full sacks of gold, 
 Which we could have to sport and spend 
 If we could reach the dipping end. 
 
 Delusive hope and painful fears 
 
 Alternate cross'd our anxious brow, 
 
 Like visions of the later years 
 
 ^riiat oft, too oft, deceive us, now. 
 
7^ Poems of Leisure. 
 
 THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Charming insect ! Thou pretty thing ! 
 Velvet body and silken wing ! 
 Enchantment of a transient hour, 
 Flitting from flower to flower — 
 Gay butterfly, beautiful thing, 
 Who sips the purest nectar in. 
 Distill'd in starlight solitude, 
 In floral cells to be thy food. 
 
 Companion of my sweetest thought 
 Sport of the soul in heaven fraught. 
 Where Innocence on sylphan wing, 
 May flit like thee, thou pretty thing, 
 In beatitudes of pleasure, 
 And sip of heaven's pure measure. 
 
 Come fold thy wings, bewitching Fay, 
 On the verge of some flower gay 
 Rest for awhile thy tiny feet, 
 A perch design'd, by nature mete. 
 For thee to sit; gay butterfly. 
 Companion of the fairest eye. 
 
 Teach me to think, to ponder well. 
 Why thee through a dark cocoon cell 
 Up from invertebrates evolv'd, 
 And to a higher state install'd. 
 Unless it be that you thus teach, 
 Man has a higher sphere to reach. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 77 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 Sail on fair queen through the ether, 
 
 Plow deep the cerulean sea; 
 Thy robes sweep the face of the heather, 
 
 Thy smiles are of heaven to me. 
 
 On silver-tipped pinions of light, 
 
 Through the diamond-deck' d field of the sky, 
 Queen, peerless sail on through the night, 
 
 Sail on, thou sweet charm of the eye. 
 
 Fair passenger, sheen of the deep, 
 
 Whose smiles bless the earth and the sea; 
 
 Whose visne is the boundless sweep ; 
 Oh ! have you a smile left for me? 
 
 Thou empyrean queen of above ; 
 
 Fair charm of the stellar abyss ! 
 Oh ! seal the true passion of love, 
 
 By impressing my lips with a kiss. 
 
 A GIRL OF NATURE. 
 
 I see with delight, 
 A nature's true girl. 
 
 With cheeks like roses 
 And natural curl. 
 
 With eyes of laughter, 
 Enliv'ning her face, 
 
 Mirthfulness racing 
 In innocent grace ; 
 
 With never a sorrow. 
 Her brow has defaced; 
 
 And never a stay 
 
 Incumbered her waist. 
 
 With Nature's own rules 
 Observed as her wealth, 
 
 The price of her wits 
 
 Will bring years of health. 
 
7^ Poems of Leisure, 
 
 THE FIRST COO. 
 
 How often I have thoui^ht. 
 
 When slyly I've eyed 
 A mother's eyes bending 
 
 On baby, sweet pride 
 Of her heart, that heaven 
 
 Has fruited complete, 
 When mother is patting 
 
 Its two little feet. 
 
 •Oh ! what ecstacies run 
 
 Her heart through and throui^h, 
 When her fond ear catches 
 
 Her darling's first coo. 
 
 MORN. 
 
 When the first gray streak of early 
 Morn, flashes through the deep, burly 
 Murk of night; and chases it away 
 To its sable vaults, before the day 
 God, smiling, comes to spread his flush 
 Of vermilion hua, with matin blush, 
 Across the bending sky; the pen 
 Or tongue, fails to paint his beauty then. 
 
 BIRDS. 
 
 Oh ! for the gift of pen or words. 
 To paint the notes of cheerful birds 
 Sweet ton'd, as their warbling trills, 
 Softly thro' the heart, and fills 
 One's hungry soul with rapture; 
 Oh ! how their intones capture 
 The every thought, 
 And how inwrought 
 In the heart, are the beautiful 
 Songs, so rich and so wonderful 
 On the balm}'- air floating, 
 
 In a sweet and tuneful roll, 
 To the intones of the soul. 
 As their joyful throats are noting 
 Pleasures to the heart, 
 That never will depart. 
 
Pucnis of Leisure. 79 
 
 WHERE IS HEAVEN. 
 
 Where is heaven, with its bliss serene? 
 Is it bsyoncl the things terene? 
 Does it surround a spacious throne 
 Which Deity esteems his own? 
 Has it a visne celestial, 
 
 Where none but sin-cleans' d spirits dwell? 
 Asked once an earnest-minded youth. 
 Whose greatest wish was further truth. 
 
 A voice from out the ether said: 
 
 •'Heaven is where Love laughs with joy; speak;; 
 From the eyes ; lingers on the lips ; 
 Blooms on the face ; fruits on the head : 
 Lives in the heart; dances on the cheeks. 
 And gilds the throne where Mercy sits. 
 
 Heaven is where the eye imparts 
 
 The glow of joy, peace, friendship, mirth: 
 Where Concord, through confiding hearts, 
 Sends seeds of kindness to the earth. 
 And dries the tears of sorrow 
 From the eyes to-day, to-morrow. 
 
 Heaven, I have seen, typified 
 
 In the family of love. By the side 
 
 Of a small rill, a vine-clad cot 
 
 Of a peasant is. Wealth is not 
 
 In goods, but there stands 
 
 A contented man, in whose hands 
 
 The guerdon of the day is brought 
 
 For family meed; and in that cot 
 
 A frugal meal is spread, 
 
 And wife and children sped 
 
 With kisses on their lips, of love 
 
 For husband, father, friend, whose love 
 
 Goes out to meet and to greet them. 
 
 As they come to welcome and to meet him. 
 
 There is heaven. 
 
 There is heaven. 
 It is home, sweet and quiet home. 
 Which the family calls their own. 
 Here is heaven ! yes, heaven sweet! 
 Heaven realized and complete. 
 
Bo Poems of Leisure. 
 
 THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 
 
 I wonder, often wonder, who 
 
 Can remain unmoved with feelings 
 Of grand emotion at even 
 Tide, as the old sun sets aglow 
 The placid bosom of the west, 
 
 And smiHng, sends his golden greeting 
 To the outspread wings of heaven, 
 Then sinking calmly down to rest. 
 Whispers softly, sweetly and low, 
 Good night, 
 Fair world, 
 Fair world. 
 Good night; 
 ril come again to-morrow. 
 
 I saw that old sun die last night 
 
 In his golden lustre of age. 
 And slowly sinking out of sight. 
 He spread upon the vermiel page 
 Of heaven a smile 
 Of exquisite grace and richness. 
 I watched him awhile. 
 As he spead his tinted dye, 
 And gave the last strokes, with aerial brush. 
 
 On the canvas of the sky; 
 Then fading, fading away to blend, 
 
 Into star life, chaste, pure and bright — 
 Impressed me of that sweeter end, 
 
 Sublimer look, last good night, 
 Loving smile, cheerful words and departing breath. 
 Of silver Age sinking, sinking into death, 
 "Good night, 
 Dear friends. 
 Dear friends, 
 Good night; 
 We'll meet again to-morrow." 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 PHANTASMAGORIA OF THE GODS. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The people generally, investigate all subjects brought to their notice, 
 with their best abilities, and are governed by their mature judgment, except 
 in matters of religion, which they t^ike for granted. To doubt is rebellion ; to 
 falter is sin. 
 
 Thev claim a kind of copyright on religion. With a double back-acting 
 power as incident to the cause, it protects them from infringements and pun- 
 ishes the presumptuous, who may be inconsiderate enough to question what is 
 tauo-ht in that respect; and it is considered a duty for the believers to sup- 
 press all disbelievers. If it cannot be accomplished by persuasion it is done 
 by social ostracism, misrepresentation, slander and force, often resulting in 
 the loss of property, liberty and life. It takes a brave person to brook the 
 current of popular belief. The disbeliever is held up by the managers of re- 
 lio^ion as execrable— a bane to good society, with whom it is wrong to have 
 social commerce. 
 
 This cramping of the human intellect has its effects, but yet it does not 
 stop the workings of the mind, or prevent honest investigations into the 
 truths and facts of all religious subjects, and into all questions pertaining to 
 the supernatural. 
 
 We are told that there is but one true God. With that idea in view, we 
 look back to the dawn of creation, when we are told man came fresh from the 
 hand of the Creator, and we find the people in those days worshiping the cat, 
 ibis, bull, crocodile, onions and leeks, as gods. The sun, moon and stars 
 have all held the office of gods. If you will go out and investigate the claims 
 of gods upon the people, you will be amazed at the pretentions, and bewil- 
 dered at the numbers. 
 
 Go to Egypt, and you will find they have worshipped as gods, Neph, 
 Amunor, Ammon, Pthah, Khem, Sati, Neith, Maut, Bubastis, Ra, Seb, Nup- 
 ti, Osiris, Isis, Typhon, Horus, Apis, Serapis, Thoth, Anubus, Anaoke, 
 Khunsu, Pecht, Athor, Cerberus and Sphinx. 
 
 Go to China, and we must not question, Toti, PinTseuh, Kwan-Tan, 
 Wan-Chank, Kwan-Ti, Chang-Ti, Fo, Omi-to, Gosh, Hwa-Kwang. 
 
 The Norsemen come to you with their Odin, Thor, Balder, Hermod, 
 Tyr, Heimdal, Indun, Forsette, Jord, Frigg, Rind, Freyja, Frey, Gerd, Vider, 
 Vale, Hoder, Gefjun, Sif, Uller, Eir, Ran, Loke, Hel, Jotuns. 
 
 The Persians had: Baal, Astarte, Ormuzd, Mithra, Ahriman. 
 The Brahmanic gods are, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, Rama, Christna, 
 Buddha, Juggernaut. 
 
 The Hindoo gods are, Indra, Varuna, Agni, Mitra, Prithivi, Soma, 
 Maruts, Dawn, Yama. 
 
 Gods of the Semitic races: Baal, Ashtarath, Asshur, Moloch, Moladah, 
 Melkart, Chemosh, Nirrip, Nebo, Iva, Hadad, Allah, Mohammed, Jah, or 
 Jehveh or Jehovah. 
 
82 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Gods of the African tribes : Mumbo, Jumbo, Nyisvva, Geyi, Anymbia, 
 Ombwiri, Onyambe, Abambo, Mwetyi, Guisliuah, Nyesoa, Morimo, Devil- 
 Man, Rain-Malcers, Taaroa, Oro. 
 
 Tlie American savages have : The Great Spirit, Quexalcote, Tezcatlip- 
 oca, Gitche-Manito, Nee-ba-naw-baigs, Unktahee. 
 
 The Greeks and Romans vveie the most fortunate of all in the number 
 and variety of their gods. They had: Jupiter, Uranus, Kronas, Saturn, 
 Rhea, Zeus, Hera, or Juno, Neptune, Hades or Pluto, Ceres, Hecate, Cybele, 
 Vesta, Mars, Vulcan, Venus, Pallas or Minerva, Apollo, Helios or Sol, 
 Diana, Bacchus, Mercury, Themes, Hone, Pomona, Vertumnus, Janus, Ter- 
 minus, Priapus, Pan, Faunus, Picus, Fauna or Fates, Satyrs, Fauns, Ko- 
 mos, Silvanus, Pales, Silenus, Oceanus, Proteus, Nereus, Tritons, Lencothea, 
 Sirens, Nymphs, Echo, Narcissus, Hesperides, The Muses, The Graces, 
 Iris, yEolus, The Wind Gods, Eos, Aurora, Oros, Cupid, Psyche, Hymen, 
 Peitho, Hebe, Ganymede, Esculapius, Hygiea, Meditrina, Telesphoras, 
 Tyche or Fortuna, Nike or Victoria, Pat, Fate, the Fates, Nemesis, Eris, 
 Enyx, Feme or Farna, Ate, Litae, Furies, the Harpies, The Gorgons, Nyx, 
 or Not or Night, Hypnos, or Somna or Sleep, Momus, Morpheus, Mars, 
 Genii, Demons, Lares, The Manes, Heros, Prometheus, Hercules, Jason, 
 Theseus, Castor, Pollux, Perseus, Bellerophon, Achilles, Ulysses, Penelope, 
 Orion, The Vices and the bad Deities. 
 
 The Jews have their Jehovah, God, with their sacred books, the Talmud 
 and the Bible. 
 
 The Mohammedans have their Jehovah, God, and Mohammed, the 
 prophet. Their sacred books are the Old Bible, and the Koran. 
 
 The Catholics have their Jehovah, God, Jesus Christ, St. Mary and 
 many other saints, their Bible and New Testament. 
 
 The Christians have their Jehovah, God, Jesus Christ, their Bible, which 
 differs from the Bible of the Catholics, their New Testament, with two ver- 
 sions now extant, differing from each other. 
 
 The Mormons have their Jehovah, God, Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith, 
 the prophet. Their sacred books are the Bible, New Testament and Book of 
 Mormons. All leaving in their train the records of distress, woe, war and 
 misery. 
 
 The Rationalists have neithar gods nor bibles, but drink at the fount of 
 everything that is good, true and deserving. 
 
 The aifferent believers call each other, infidels, giaours, heathen, and 
 fight and war with each other, because of the difference of their opinions ; 
 and when they find a Rationalist, they all join on him, because he does not 
 believe anything not susceptible of proof. 
 
 The object of the following poem is to demonstrate the importance of the 
 religion of humanity. 
 
Poems of Leism'e. 83 
 
 PHANTASMAGORIA OF THE GODS. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 Lustrous morning threw her golden beams 
 
 O'er the land. On the sky of eastern gleams, 
 
 Smiles of living day began. Roses sweet, 
 
 Peeping through gems of crystal dew to greet 
 
 The swelling tide of life, ever there; birds trilTd 
 
 The jo3^ful advent; all nature seem'd fiU'd 
 
 With rapturous pleasure. Bees humming low, 
 
 Kiss'd nodding budlets bursting into blow. 
 
 The sun rolled back th' hovering shades of night 
 
 To the dark throne of Erebus. Delight 
 
 Spread her soft wing, while zephyrs danc'd in play, 
 
 On floating ribbons, from the bloom of day. 
 
 On the distant landscape, outstretching wide, 
 Hung the bending sky. The grasses in pride 
 Looken up to see the bleating lambs at play. 
 Men were busy, and children gay. 
 Filling the great demands of work and mirth, 
 The laws eternal of old Mother Earth. 
 
 Stoon in the visne, upreaching mountains high, 
 Which seem'd to kiss the dome of matin sky, 
 'Neath which flew shifting clouds in neat display. 
 To catch the kiss of morning's mellow ray. 
 
 There stood a stately hill and rock}- nook; 
 Rolled o'er golden sands a sinuous brook, 
 Whose course was through a rough and rugged fell, 
 Which stretched to girth an aged mountain swell, 
 From where the plain, with matted grasses green, 
 Bedeck'd with flowers on both sides the stream. 
 Which lead away to a deep morass dense, 
 Where the lonley stork abides in self defense. 
 
 Emerged from a dark and gloomy glen, 
 
 A form of uncouth mien and downcast ken, 
 
 Holding in his hand a dead spear of grass, 
 
 Seem'd saying to himself: "Alas! Alas ! ! 
 
 Life quivering span of existence 
 
 To non-existence ; spell of resistence 
 
 And conflicts of vicissitudes and aches 
 
 Of the heart, and remorse that partakes 
 
 Of the night of woe. Why is man possess' d 
 
84 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Of thee? Why is life's consummation dress'd 
 In acute combinations of nerve 
 Forces of flesh, sinews and bone, to serve 
 As receptacles of dire tortures through 
 Impressive agencies, man never knevt^?" 
 
 "Yes! man was here born without his asking. 
 Or seeking. Pray why should life be tasking 
 Him with its burdens, realities, and 
 Sorrows sad, whose inflictions only end 
 With the last of him? Oh! bothersome life, 
 Replete with anguish, contention and strife, 
 Bid man a last, a long and kind adieu, 
 i\.nd wipe from mem'ry all it ever knew. 
 On! Death ! silent messenger of Peace, 
 Come thou quickly and break the galling lease 
 Life hath upon man laid, and in the breast 
 Of thy omnipotence afford him rest." 
 "T'would ha" been better, far," Cobolus sighed, 
 "For man, if he had, before his birth, died." 
 
 Vivacious Youth came tripping down a hill, 
 Beheld Remorse, old and haggard, by the kill 
 Of Grumble, sitting; on a barren stone. 
 
 And making grimace faces at the world 
 Full of grandeur, excellence, beauty; sown 
 
 By the smiles of Life, through all nature twirl'd. 
 "Man of venerable age, seem'st thou," the youth 
 Said, "Deep in meditation bound; the truth 
 Of nature must have long engaged your mind; 
 Earth's beauties must, within your wisdom, find 
 An ardent advocate?" Raising his head 
 And grim-knitting his brow, the old man said: 
 "I, from the book of experience learn'd 
 This word is all deception and fraud, turned 
 Into gain by the designing; and, man 
 The prey of man becomes; whoever can 
 Advantage gain, or oppress another, 
 Lose not the advantage, though brother, 
 Or e'en the nearer to him, the father, 
 And oft', too oft', the languishing mother 
 Feels but the cold rebuke of neglect; 
 And yon ebon water doth reflect 
 The dark currents of man\s being, inground 
 In him, bv the fat of n iture, found 
 
Poems of Leisure. 85 
 
 In all things where life pulsates thro' th' veins, 
 And animation has uncurb' d reins. 
 Life, throbbing element, is a curse, 
 And brinirs in its train the hideous corse 
 Of disappointed hope, and in its wake 
 Strews the bleachen bones of all joy to make 
 This world fulfill its mission, typified 
 In these dark stygian waters that glide, 
 Grumbhng, at our feet. I behold them all; 
 The red sun so admired, gilds but the pall 
 Of death, and sends down his mawking beguiles 
 To allure man, by deceptive wiles. 
 On in the pathway of torturing life. 
 See you not, young man, that Nature is rife 
 With woe, intensified by deception. 
 Brought into esse by life's conception. 
 Where'er you find life, devouring death. 
 Grim and goar, is, by his stygian breath, 
 Reaping the unripe harvest. Each being 
 On some other Hfe lives. Without seeing 
 You cannot lift your eyes, something eating 
 The flesh of another. Thus, completing 
 The one greatest fiat of Omniscience, 
 Of unlimited (?) mercy, the essence. 
 
 Great God ! is this by omnific design? 
 
 Are these the workings of thy rules divine? 
 
 Or, hast Thou lost omnipotent control 
 
 And even up by roasting man's poor soul, 
 
 As preachers armed in sophistry oft tell, 
 
 And with phantasmagoria paint up hell? 
 
 If God be silent to unveil this truth 
 
 What canst thou say for it, unpracticed youth?" 
 
 "As you have ask'd, I cannot well deny, 
 
 To give you my conceptions in reply," 
 
 The youth went on, "You have dethron'd fond Hope 
 
 And view things thro' th' eyes of a misanthrope; 
 
 Life is the soul of all our joys, I ween, 
 
 And woe is not as real as it may seem. 
 
 Young life takes all of pleasure in its train, 
 
 And woe is but a figment of the brain; 
 
 From the blooms of life all animation springs — 
 
 We feel joy, or woe, the way we look at things. 
 
 In all of life's long and varied train 
 
 We have but few ills, or physical pain — 
 
86 Poems of Incisure. 
 
 The most come from imacjininos of the brain. 
 
 We choose between the strains of joy and woe, 
 
 And as our mind is bent we have it so. 
 
 This world is rife with th' joy of pleasing things; 
 
 From the garner of her wealth our pleasure springs: 
 
 The clouds, the rainfall and the storms impart 
 
 Great pleasure to the true and cheerful heart, 
 
 While the golden luster of the sun, at noon. 
 
 Dispels the clouds, and dissipates their gloom. 
 
 The aged hills, the lichened rocks of gray, 
 
 The tiny brook that purls along its way, 
 
 The bursting buds, the bough, the leaf of green, 
 
 x\re mirrored on the cheerful mind, I ween, 
 
 To thrill the soul with rapturous thoughts of hre 
 
 Which we need but see to love and admire. 
 
 Your fluent tongue with Folly's glibs preside 
 
 And make the weaker seem the stronger side. 
 
 While jewel' d Truth lies wounded at your feet 
 
 To brook the shams of an unworthy defeat; 
 
 Prostrate and bleeding 'neath your frown it lies, 
 
 With form well chained with Falsehood's galling gyves. 
 
 Supplicating the hand of crime to give 
 
 The boon that prison'd honor might still live; 
 
 While blushing Virtue, chaste, with lips demure, 
 
 Sues in the grasp of Lust to be secure. 
 
 In vain she pleads while in the monster's jaws, 
 
 Yet will prevail, eternal are her laws — 
 
 No hidden vice can ever feel secure; 
 
 Fair virtue has for every wrong a cure. 
 
 Over the mien of the old man a change 
 
 Crept, like the visage of a sprite whose range 
 
 Was among the demons of the deep. 
 
 His hair, as wires, stood on end; and sleep 
 
 Seemed never to have tam'd his wild eyes; 
 
 Riveted on me with the sad surmise. 
 
 That one would feel under the rigid e3'e 
 
 Of a subtle beast, drawing its cold, sly 
 
 Coils about him ! Dim, and still dimmer, grew 
 
 Nature's sweet music. Before my eyes flew 
 
 The scenes of all my past time; and, I heard. 
 
 As a dreadful shock struck my soul, the word 
 
 ''Cobolus," Ah! Cobolus, the dreadful. 
 
 Me thought, as I again look'd, his fretful 
 
 Eye was closer on me drawn and he said: 
 
Poems of Leisure. 87 
 
 "Wilford, I ghoul not in tombs of the dead, 
 
 But, as something real, walk the earth 
 
 And leave my impress wherever the birth 
 
 Of evil is. Yes, my magic is feared 
 
 Of the monsters. I, the worshiped and rever'd 
 
 Am, in the dungeons where there are entomb'd 
 
 The subtle vis whose bane has gloom'd 
 
 It's thousands; but, I hold a more deserved 
 
 Mission, for Wilford, which has been reserved 
 
 For all ages past. My mission is to 
 
 Reveal the true world to mankind and you 
 
 The missuigent for the work must be, 
 
 I th' alient of darkness am; in me 
 
 Besides the power of giving to man 
 
 Life, burden' d with the ills that always ran 
 
 Its course, and filled the stream of animation 
 
 With woe in all its forms of expression. 
 
 My aid was once of earth, a maiden fair 
 
 Who sold her manes to demons of despair; 
 
 And now she rides upon the wind unseen 
 
 And sows, with lavish hand, the seeds of woe between ; 
 
 And yet life has, for the dead ages past 
 
 Deem'd a blessing on humanity cast. 
 
 Mere sophists they, 
 
 Who draw man away 
 FrQm the deep besetting cognate ills. 
 That always have fill'd and which now fills 
 The tide of life, with sickness, sorrow, pain 
 And death, which follow man with their red train 
 And their ailments, distresses and diseases. 
 
 Man is told these inflictions much pleases 
 Omniscient Mercy. 'Tis I, Cobolus, 
 
 Whose laugh is the grumbling earthquake. 
 And breath, the all-threat'ning clouds that focus 
 
 On the trembling sky their shivering flake. 
 I conquer all save Litai, a Fay, (2) 
 Who with alluring ways walks th' earth by day 
 And soothes the sorrows of the aching heart 
 By soft delusive smiles, until the dark 
 Veil is drawn and then it is too late; 
 
 Back comes no true accusing tongue. 
 Death, man's best friend, can but demonstrate 
 
 The victim to his grave was stung." 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 On yonder mountain height, above the crag 
 And cliff, where vultures soar, and eagles lag 
 On watchful wing to catch the sight of prev, 
 Is my watch, where no human eye can play 
 Upon its visne, I sit and ken the world. 
 There you shall go and 'neath the sky unfurl'd. 
 See with your own eyes and hear with your ears 
 Life as it was, and as it now^ appears. 
 
 Wilford there stood aghast. Prevenient 
 
 Admonitions made it expedient 
 
 For him to break the thrall that bound him spell 
 
 To his stead, but could not, Cobolus well 
 
 Knew his vis; pointing his long finger 
 
 At his gaze, no longer could he linger 
 
 At the spot; his stone heart plastic became 
 
 To the will of the demi-god; remain. 
 
 He longer could not, but follow'd the lead 
 
 Of his captor. On th' bosom of the dead 
 
 Calm he seem'd to float and follow the argus- 
 
 Eyed monster where he wist, without logos 
 
 Of his own. A slave he was, and thus he 
 
 Relates his experience: "He held me 
 
 By his magic power of will. A million 
 
 Thoughts ran my mind. The sk}', a pavilion 
 
 Seem'd, would part its vast folds for our exit. 
 
 Its deep sides would come and go; and, then it 
 
 Would bend, as though to grasp us in its form. 
 
 My mind was daz'd; I felt perplex'd, forlorn. 
 
 Upreaching mountain, inaccessible 
 
 To man, towered with its impassable 
 
 Sides of ascent, high frowning above me. 
 
 How to reach its bald brow, I could not see. 
 
 While in my mind revolving the great feat 
 
 Upon me laid by Cobolus, my feet 
 
 Seem'd loosen'd from the ground, which did recede 
 
 From beneath me. Brooks, trees, landscapes and glebe 
 
 Pass'd away. The heighth of the vast inane 
 
 Deeps above, great, grand and stupendous fane, 
 
 To my aerial loll, sank. Mine ear, 
 
 By resonant fugues enchanting near 
 
 Was sooth'd to blissful peace. The outspreading 
 
 Cloud-wing, soft and vaporous, seem'd veiling 
 
 Beneath me the glowing landscape. Th' world 
 
 Seem'd falling, to my senses. It was whirl'd 
 
Poems of Leisure.' 89 
 
 > 
 
 By some force unseen, from its stead, I watched 
 
 Its gentle going; with outspread hand catched 
 
 At its sinking shadow, but its presence 
 
 There was not. My captor's eye a pleasance 
 
 Had reflected, and then I realized 
 
 The deception. By some strange, unadvised 
 
 Means, I was upon the mountain standing. 
 
 And, Cobolus, my eyes was unhanding 
 
 Of the delusion that lead me captive 
 
 To the wizard's height. There, most attractive 
 
 The sight was. Spread before me, in the beaut}- 
 
 Of the real, gilded by the duty 
 
 Of this sprite of the yaw^ning cave whose tooth 
 
 Whet the sharpest point, on man's greatest ruth, 
 
 Was the world. All nations before me arose, 
 
 In life, in strife, in struggle and repose. 
 
 Cobolus spake. On my astonished ear 
 
 Fell graphic words that stung my soul to hear: 
 
 "Trolls and spectres are my companions, deep 
 
 In fathomless caves tenanted. Keep 
 
 The hour, we, when the sable frowns of night 
 
 On nature spread its vaporous wing, tight 
 
 On the world drawn. There, lorn misery dire, 
 
 Of kind and character countless inspire 
 
 We, and, thrall all the living with our bane. 
 
 In cities peopled dense, and in space inane 
 
 We hover around with damps of woe. When 
 
 The first life struggle began, then began 
 
 Sorrow sore, and as old Time rolls on, 
 
 Louder and deeper are the groans that throng 
 
 Around the heart; and deafer and deafer 
 
 Grows the ear of man, now trained to prefer 
 
 The wails of anguish to joy, whose refrains 
 
 Send trilling back more symphonious strains 
 
 Than the Diapason of Orphean 
 
 Notes, trained since nature's sweetest song began." 
 
 "Look!" he said. I obeyed the behest 
 
 And askance cast my eyes, north, south, east, west. 
 
 Beheld I a murk thrown over all the 
 
 World. Acuter grew my eye. I could see 
 
 The inward workings of humanity 
 
 And read with anguished heart, man's destiny. 
 
90 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 "List now to what I say I Wilford, the brave;" 
 
 Cobolus said kindly: "And I will save 
 
 Many wasteful doubts from besetting the mind 
 
 With dark forebodings of the world behind. 
 
 Anterior to the days of Drastus, 
 
 In the bloom of the grand Antalantus, 
 
 Peace, joy, good will reigned in the breast supreme 
 
 Of all. AH were comely; beauty did bearh 
 
 On ev'ry cheek. The tongue knew not the guile 
 
 Of a wilful sting. From all eyes the smile 
 
 Of mirth poured forth a constant stream. Health 
 
 And vigor bestowed their priceless wealth 
 
 Alike. Disease and decrepitude 
 
 Were unfelt. The g^rim, black, bold certitude 
 
 Of deception, wrong, bloodshed and chicane 
 
 Had not found a lodgment in the brain 
 
 Of man. Two daughters, vivacious and fair, 
 
 Bless'd the heart of Karmus ; most rare 
 
 Were their accomplishments. Minerva learn'd 
 
 From them the graces that have erst adorn' d 
 
 The name of woman. Matin kisses from 
 
 The purest sun-born rays, like dew-drops hung 
 
 On th' lips of pouting Beauty. Their graces 
 
 Stoop' d to linger where the heart enchases 
 
 Virtue with the jewels fair of life and love. 
 
 Sweet dreams of memory, that fondly move 
 
 Upon the brain and backward carry our 
 
 Sweetest balm of life before the dark hour 
 
 Of wrong begrim'd the earth with its sorrow 
 
 By hideous mien, would dri\'e or borrow 
 
 All pleasure from the breast. Oh! that sad, sad da}^ 
 
 When Discontent lead first the heart away. 
 
 Ate dream'd the dream of discontent; 
 
 The lovely earth and true life serene lent 
 
 No enchantment to her restive mind. Change, 
 
 New born spectre, that is wot to range 
 
 In th' human heart uncurb'd, a victim made 
 
 Of this fair bloom of earth; and on her laid 
 
 The thought, bv skill and scheme, to break the vault 
 
 That clos'd within the ebon world the fault 
 
 Of wrong. Deep from the Plutonian shore 
 
 RoH'd the phantasy back, that "never more" 
 
Poems of Leisure. 91 
 
 Would tranquil Peace and blooming health unshent 
 
 Reign triumphant through th' world where pleasure went 
 
 Unchallenged. Daughter of the shade bent low (3) 
 
 Her ebon wing and bade fair Ate go 
 
 On journey vast with her beyond the list 
 
 Where Helios smiles, and the heavy mists 
 
 Of night are never raised; where cognate gloom 
 
 Unbroken reigns supreme ; where Harpies plume 
 
 On wings perennial for sightless flight, 
 
 And Neros takes with Pluto fond delight. 
 
 The long journey sped, Cal^no spread 
 
 The festal board, rich laden with the bread 
 
 Of that outer world; viands of flavor 
 
 Rare and delicate sent up a savor 
 
 Captivating to the dullest taste. Fill'd 
 
 The goblets were with nectar, cool, and thrill' d 
 
 The senses of delight with mellow wine. 
 
 Smooth enough in flow to please a throat divine. 
 
 'Twas a banquet of the gods of outer place 
 
 Where wiles luxuriant retained their place; 
 
 Excesses gorg'd th' hour, of every name, 
 
 And virtue lay submerged by evil fame. 
 
 All the gods of gloomy shade were there. 
 
 And manes of Pluto's like, grave, fierce and fair. 
 
 Assembled through respect, and honor paid 
 
 To the world's self-expatriated maid. 
 
 From the darkest darkness, the witch Circe 
 
 A nectar brought her, of the jujube. 
 
 When it refresh the lips, forgotten all 
 
 The past is; and then she thought to enthrall 
 
 The maid with evil from the murky shade 
 
 That all Pandora's ills on man be laid. 
 
 A leathern case of serpent skin was brought 
 
 From the squirming locks of Medusa, fraught 
 
 With evil. Sprites from the inner precincts came 
 
 Waged with evil freight and with evil aim. 
 
 Each one, a portion in the serpent case 
 
 With thoughts of guile and fingers deft, did place, 
 
 For Ate's use, when she should back again 
 
 To the fair and blissful earth, direct her aim. 
 
 Seeds of sorrow, anguish and discontent. 
 
 Man}^ things of guile had the Cyclops sent. 
 
 Sickness, pain, disease of every kind. 
 
 Decrepitude of frame; deformed of mind; 
 
92 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Avarice, scandal, deception and greed; 
 Strife, lust, ambition, pride, and all the seed 
 Of woeful war, incontinence and crime, 
 Black, of hideous form, whose traces line 
 The footprints of man with its goar grim. 
 To fill the tranquil earth with stains of sin 
 And thrall all animation with the bane 
 Of woe, dishonor, disgrace and shame, 
 Which brew and breed in that vast outer sphere 
 Where kindness is unknown, and spasm'd fear 
 Rages every breast; where discontent 
 Stalks broad in every place; the malcontent 
 Of all grades of wanton guilt and shame, 
 Of every kind and every name. 
 
 The black seeds of murder, some brought and gave; 
 
 Pestilence and famine, that fill the grave 
 
 With unripe fruit, were brought with lavish hand, 
 
 Seeds of lying tongues were sent to curse the land. 
 
 Inhumanity brought a fearful load, 
 
 And for the slave's poor back the cruel goad 
 
 Was there; there, too, came the hideous mien 
 
 Of Anarchy, with its lorn clan unseen 
 
 In social good; and its missuigent 
 
 To th' base and lower scale of life was sent. 
 
 Scandal's dark mischief had a special place 
 
 Assigned it, where the tonj^ue was trained to trace 
 
 The steps of virtue with the mien of vice. 
 
 And guilt was ever ready with advice. 
 
 Gaunt-eyed Want through poverty's wages wept, 
 
 Where Luxury flaunted and Pity slept, 
 
 And when the serpent skin was filled with woe, 
 
 Ate to earth, on wanton wing, would go, 
 
 And as she tipp'd her pinions, soft and light, 
 
 y^olus came, on mission grand, 
 And ere she sped upon her earthward flight. 
 
 He placed within her outstretched hand 
 A bag of wind, and Circe came; 
 "And in this bag of wind I name 
 All the woes in the serpent skin you hold," 
 Circe said, in a witch's language bold, 
 "Blow the winds of hardened devil. 
 Blow the winds of blackened evil, 
 Blow the winds at mv command, 
 
Poetns of Leisure. 93 
 
 Blow the winds through all the land; 
 Cyclopes follow, 
 Caves and hollow, 
 Be thy will obeyed. 
 Serpent's tooth, 
 Bringing ruth, 
 Where its bane is laid; 
 The darkest ban 
 Must fall on man," 
 Thus the Circe said : 
 "Go with the north winds, go with the south winds, 
 
 Go to each nation and clan; 
 Go with the east winds, go with the west winds, 
 And blow these evils on man." 
 
 The mists were shaken, of the ebon world. 
 
 And clapp'd the wing of Jupiter, dethron'd 
 For younger gods, out from his mansion hurl'd 
 
 This ancient god, and he his fate bemoan'd; 
 And now he sought, from Pluto's reign. 
 To send to earth his wanton will again; 
 And all the gods, in that domain of shame, 
 Imparl'd to curse th' earth, by whatever name. 
 The Gorgons slapp'd their sides with rage, 
 
 The Furies sent a fiercer frown, 
 And Harpies would with claw engage 
 
 A fiercer foe than yet was known. 
 And Ate quivered on a pendant wing. 
 With timid will, and would that she could fling 
 Upon the bosom of the murky shade, 
 The evils, the Fates had upon her laid. 
 She would have shrunk, and saved the world its woes, 
 And virtue of her all-besetting foes, 
 Could she have thought of Litee, sister fair. 
 And earth, with all the pleasures resting there. 
 Those blessings were denied her memory, 
 Circe dethron'd, by the subtile Jujube, 
 While Lit^, angel of the Helois wing, 
 Would for her sister Ate sit and sing, 
 
 Redeeming songs, in plaintive strain, 
 Imploring the world's perennial spring 
 
 To win her Ate back again. 
 Poor Ate ! lost in the dolorous world, 
 
 To all recollections of Litre's love; 
 Lost to the banner of beauty unfurl'd, 
 
94 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 By morn's purple rays, from heaven above 
 And all of the virtues, where harmony lives, 
 And all of the blessings Fraternity gives. 
 She knew but to go as the Fates directed. 
 Where Trolls might scheme in th' dark undetected'. 
 That Gorgons and Furies might blight mankind. 
 And Harmony, purge from the seat of the mind. 
 
 On the wings of the wind she balanc'd her flight. 
 Full-freighted with ills to the world of light; 
 Which ever unchent its bosom had been, 
 With seeds of crime, contention, or sin. 
 
 Through the dark and fro re lorn of night 
 Ate bent her wing on earthward flight, 
 Remembering not the orcine sphere she left^ 
 Nor e'en the Ord, before she was bereft 
 Of memory sweet; when it a pleasure 
 Was to marshal, in her mind, the treasure 
 Of reflective thought; when beauty into 
 Beauty blended, and all the world but knew 
 Fraternal love ; unknown all contention 
 Was; had blissful life alone attention. 
 As she, unthinking, sped upon her way, 
 Across the cerule dorse, the smile of day. 
 Threw a golden hue. Not knowing th' import 
 Of such a phase, did, like a seraph port 
 Upon a silent wing in wistful pose ; 
 , And while, on pinions loll'd, the world arose 
 Out of the deep, dark ether, into view. 
 Her eyes as lanterns glow'd, for ah! she knew 
 It not. From the fair orient it came, 
 Rushing onward in a radiant flame 
 Of beauty ; variegated and tinted 
 In all the aerial hues. Glinted 
 From its face, as the rose from the half ope 
 Bud; whose blush of purity as th' hope 
 Of innocence, borne to a world redeem' d 
 By man's own worth; in its stateliness gleam'd 
 With its pristine glor}^ forth, enchanting 
 The purest thoughts; to man's worth granting 
 The all unshadow'd praise. Upon the verge, 
 Where Light's golden arrows sent creeling th' targe 
 Of darkness to the nether cleft; mountains 
 Bejewel'd with their bright, laughing fountains,. 
 
Poems of Leisure. nt 
 
 Wrapp'd, tied and intertied with trenning- streams 
 
 And rivers vast as silver veins, deep seams 
 
 In adamant and beryl cut, turning 
 
 Embosom 'd lakes and volcanoes burning, 
 
 Over and over, as the world roll'don. 
 
 Vast oceans dress'd in the deep blue green, the throng 
 
 Of change enchanted. Continents green-dress'd, 
 
 Emerged from blue Distance; where on express'd 
 
 Man, laughing, joyous and contented. 
 
 Guile had not yet tainted his mind; tented 
 
 Foes, blood-stain'd and savage, with measur'd tread 
 
 Had not won the bays of honor by the dead 
 
 In their wake lymg. His crowning glory 
 
 Was the wreath of honor on the hoary 
 
 Head, and the gleam of unshent innocence 
 
 Rested on the brow of all; the defense 
 
 Of Virtue was Virtue's own sweet smile 
 
 That pervaded each continent, realm and isle. 
 
 There Scythia stands, with her mellow clime and 
 Fertile plains; her towering mountains, grand 
 And inspiring, look down upon Indus 
 Deep, smooth-rolling, and peopl'd Elymais. 
 Chalybes in sylvan bowers, their ease, 
 On Rhea's blessings chime, in tone to please 
 Orphean ear, songs of plaintive sweetness. 
 Albania, fair and proud with completeness, 
 Neath the brow of Niphates and Taurus, 
 Join with a grand and goodly folk, the chorus 
 Of good will. Chaos has not on wing o' night. 
 From Hesperian fields th' dolorous blight 
 Of discord brought. Lycia smiles, and Cnidos 
 Sends a kiss of welcome to far Chios. 
 Deos from the blue waves sends a greeting 
 To the isles of emerald hue. Meeting 
 The frore north with Afric's torrid clime; 
 And look'd. Ate, across the rolling brine, 
 And there a new world and a new people 
 Arose before her vision ; no steeple 
 Mark'd a fictitious worship; th' calumet 
 Of Peace, was in each wigwam, on the fret 
 Of Cythira floating. Children were train'd 
 To emulate the fathers gone, who fram'd 
 The rules of life serene, that thoughts unkind 
 Should never rape a noble mind. 
 
96 Poems of Leisiii'e. 
 
 Palanqua, with her courts and colonades, 
 
 Her facades rich and charming esplanades, 
 
 Her cuts and carvings, with her paintings grand. 
 
 Its architecture and the sculptor's hand, 
 
 Leave tracings of a folk of culture well, 
 
 That others may equal, but not excel. 
 
 Mitla, who can doubt you, standing amid 
 
 The wiles of western shore? Vine-bound, and hid 
 
 By trees of stately bow and scented thyme 
 
 Thy records lay; on which the hand of Time, 
 
 For eons past has work'd and laid his wage; 
 
 Yet undespoil'd and bright thy open page, 
 
 Where passing man may linger yet awhile, 
 
 And cast a thought on Time's receding file, 
 
 When man was taken for his sterlin<>' worth. 
 
 Not gag'd by faith in gods of common birth. 
 
 And Uxmel, all our grandest thoughts inspire. 
 
 Queen of beauty, which vie with blooming Tyre, 
 
 Whose lovely grace abash the pride of kings 
 
 And enchace with pride th' true and comely things. 
 
 There artful tracings, their own story tell, 
 
 Where Science lived, now, but savages dwell. 
 
 Ate, a captive stood, half in the glim 
 
 Of light, upon a soft and floating rim 
 
 Of airy cloud of the world's great beauty. 
 
 She remembered not the burden'd duty 
 
 On her laid bv gods of outer range; 
 
 She stood aghast and wonder' d at the change 
 
 Before her. The gods opin'd the reason 
 
 Of her delay ; the dark ban of treason 
 
 Against her pronounc'd was; she heeded not 
 
 The curse; she stood, because she had forgot 
 
 Her mission. Circe came with great concern 
 
 To know the why she stopp'd, only to learn 
 
 That the beauteous earth, more potent was 
 
 For good than all the guile and Circean laws 
 
 Of evil on the maiden, late of earth. 
 
 By witch's subtile wiles, or b}- the birth 
 
 Of other curses in wicked brains conceived. 
 
 On her imposed. By this, the gods were grieved; 
 
 And on the wings of sweeping flight through ether 
 
 Came to 'quire of the cause of Ate's halt. 
 
 Mute and tongueless she stood and gave no fault 
 
 Of rule that stayed her there. A steady gaze 
 
Poems of Leisure. 97 
 
 She kept, unmindful of all else, on th' phase 
 
 Of life, joyous and serene, before her; 
 
 And no plaint importunities could stir 
 
 This fair missuigent of evil port. 
 
 From her place on the soft and shifting sport 
 
 Of hanging cloud. Stung with disappointment 
 
 And chagrin' d at her delay, the gods met 
 
 Around the stolid Ate, in anger'd 
 
 Council, and will'd to know vvhy she langor'd 
 
 Thus upon the verge of airy cloud flight, 
 
 While the object of her conquest in sight 
 
 Of all turn'd her beauteous face around. 
 
 In graceful smiles and native bliss profound. 
 
 When the gods thus assembled were to know 
 
 The why, Ate, in moveless silence low. 
 
 Bent her eyes in steady longing, and went 
 
 She not upon her mission, orcine sent. 
 
 But on the list of darkness there standingr. 
 
 Motionless, speechless; the gods commanding, 
 
 She unheeding. Gave council Apollo: 
 
 "That recreant some of the gods below 
 
 Were, to strict advice, and b}^ magic spell, 
 
 For sorrow potent for guile, impel 
 
 Her not to go." Such incantations fell 
 
 By witch or wizard, he would not tell. 
 
 Must broken be by charms of other guise ; 
 
 "Circe, witch of outer darkness, arise!" 
 
 Austere Apollo said, in tones perplex'd. 
 
 "By art of witch and charm subtilly plex'd 
 
 Of power, by the fiendish dynamo 
 
 In spooks and specter shops in caves below. 
 
 Wrought for supermundane use; breathe thy skill 
 
 Omniscient in the black art, that the will 
 
 Of this stubborn and stolid wench be thine ! 
 
 Haste to the work and lose no precious time." 
 Circe, obedient to th' command came. 
 And by exorcist power sought to name 
 By adjuration th' witches charm, and threw 
 Her subtile veil, invisible to view 
 By human eye, around her, receiving 
 Back enchantment, fell of veil, conceiving 
 Of herself, her own vis; captivated 
 Herself, she was, and by witchcraft mated 
 With Ate, and by her own was possess'd 
 
98 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Of immobility, hereto express'd 
 
 Not in herself. Unconscious she, too, stood, 
 
 In admiration, wild with e3'e she could 
 
 Not bend from the rich sun-blessed world that held 
 
 A perfection whicii had not been excelFd 
 
 In other spheres. The joyous smile of niornino- 
 
 Sat aglow the blooming face, adorning, 
 
 Of terene scenes. The cool, reposing vales. 
 
 The mountain peaks and silver stream that trails 
 
 The outer disk. The ocean's broad expanse, 
 
 The shelter' d bays, across whose face a chance 
 
 Albatross might flit a downy wing, lay 
 
 Before her, on which her vision would stay. 
 
 She was for her weakness, incripated 
 
 And was perite. Euterpe invited 
 
 To flute delightful tenderness, and win 
 
 The senses back to them again, and glim 
 
 A ray of hope for the success final 
 
 Of this emprise and conceptions primal. 
 
 She, too, was entranced and her music fell 
 
 From her unconscious lips; refus'd to swell, 
 
 As wont, the fairy heart with tuneful bliss, 
 
 And in silence lay the world before her, 
 
 Which, with impulse new would on her confer 
 
 A finite eye, to see the beautiful 
 
 Of terene things and the life dutiful 
 
 Of man. Euterpe failing, with her lyre 
 
 Tuneful, the siren conceived to inspire 
 
 With her voice of matchless sweetness, a new 
 
 Zeal, and wish for the halting sprites that knew 
 
 Not their station. She called with tuneful throat 
 
 The mischief-making shades, whose thoughts float 
 
 On the vacant air and surcharge all things 
 
 With their wishes; at whose dark bidding, springs 
 
 Danger in a thousand forms to man's good — 
 
 At one sudden impulse, as though they could 
 
 Enchant the universe with gleeful song, 
 
 Attun'd their dulcet throats to loud prolong 
 
 Their wildest praise of the rolling spheroid. 
 
 So beautifullv filling the vast void 
 
 Space before them. The pathless wave of night 
 
 Had fled the orient, and morning bright, 
 
 A golden trill had sent across the sky, 
 
 A flit of joy that dissipates the sigh 
 
Poems of Leisiire. 99 
 
 Of sorrow; and, brings to man that repose 
 
 Of conscious virtue, which he only knows 
 
 Who feels its balmy smile. The sprites prostrate 
 
 Fell, in form worshipful, to demonstrate 
 
 Their admiration of the beautiful 
 
 World before them ; and there in dutiful 
 
 Supplication they revered the sacred 
 
 Name of earth; and with zeal and pathos, sang 
 
 Its befitting praise. Those thrilling notes rang 
 
 Out in loud, deep and clarion strains 
 
 That with rage convuls'd Pluto's vast domains, 
 
 And caus'd the gods of ebon world again 
 
 To imparl, and devise a better plan 
 
 To take from the peaceful world its beauty 
 
 Of expression; and from man his duty 
 
 To himself and his fellow. Megara call'd, 
 
 And at his great husky voice, appall' d 
 
 Stood all the great immortals of ancient 
 
 Rank, on Plutonian shore ; but transient 
 
 Was their stay; on strong wing of lightning's flight 
 
 To the verge of darkness where the pale light 
 
 Of the golden car sends a reaching smile 
 
 To the sullen ebb and receding file 
 
 Of darkness, they sped: and Clio whose fame 
 
 Wide spread for wisdom was, was asked to name 
 
 The why Ate speechless stood, and Circe 
 
 Her enchantment lust; and, motionless she. 
 
 Too stood enthraird by the world; and, the song 
 
 Of siren would, the world's praises, prolong. 
 
 Clio wise, then proceeded to relate 
 
 That of the ills they had forgotten. Hate, 
 
 When filling the case of serpent skin with woes 
 
 For Ate's bearing to the world that only knows 
 
 Th' smiles of Friendship, Benevolence and Truth. 
 
 luring forth the seeds of Hate, and then with ruth 
 
 Will Ate strew the world." Alecto sped 
 
 To the inner space of Pluto's reign, red 
 
 With things infernal, and with his hand 
 
 Of furious reach obey'd the command 
 
 And on Ate wag'd the black spawn of Hate. 
 
 She smil'd at the accession, but 'twas Fate 
 
 That held her yet unmoved toward the earth. 
 
 "There is an evil yet, that has its birth 
 In the brain of man," Clio said. Forgot 
 
lOO Poems of Leisure. 
 
 , We have, its importance; it will have wrought 
 More evil and instilled more discontent 
 In man, for which more fortunes have been spent 
 And lives sacrificed, than th' mind can conceive. 
 This revelation was so great to relieve 
 The press of thought, Neos, a recess moved 
 To a time when they could, the improved 
 Device of contention, potent for ill, 
 That black evil might yet, the wide world, fill. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Most interesting was that weird and bold 
 
 Story of Cobolus. In th' manner told 
 
 As in the deep shrouding mystery 
 
 That glooms the mind through the dim history 
 
 Of mythical lore, as gods, n3^mphs, fairies 
 
 Cyclops, gorgons, fates, fawns, shades and furies 
 
 With those of more familiar names; the most 
 
 In use are seraphs, angels, spooks. The ghost 
 
 Walks the earth at night. Phantoms and the manes 
 
 Of men and devils are upturning brains, 
 
 And men and women filled with awe and scare, 
 
 To beg the question, humbly kneel in prayer 
 
 With eyes upturn' d to heaven blue and fair; 
 
 Inportune a being who is not there. 
 
 Nor ever was, to help in his behalf 
 
 In matters he ought to do himself. 
 
 I must not from the story, strange and quaint, 
 
 Divert attention. Cobolus spent 
 
 Ages in researches legendary, 
 
 After facts only known to the very 
 
 Subtile of those invisibilities, 
 
 That charge the earth with their realities, 
 
 And make man feel their presence, yet they feel 
 
 Them not. On man's dull perceptions steal 
 
 An invisible self, whose form they see. 
 
 Yet see not; which he hears, yet hears not. He 
 
 Knows it is there, by a sense yet unnam'd. 
 
 It is through an impressibility fam'd 
 
 In all time by all people, whose tongue 
 
 Have voic'd the heart. Whose names have been sung 
 
 By all the minstrelsy of note, or time. 
 
 Poets have sung of them in verse and rhyme, 
 
 Historians have chronicled their deeds, 
 
Poems of Leisure. loi 
 
 Sculptors have caught their forms, the painter feeds 
 
 His imagery fine, on their furtive wing. 
 
 Cobolus was among them, and, we sing 
 
 Of him, and through our sentient pen we 
 
 Tell his stor}'. The gods conven'd, to see 
 
 What evil more, Clio had to bring 
 
 To bear on Ate, to force her to wing 
 
 Away to the floating earth, and man 
 
 Despoil of his pleasures true by the ban 
 
 Of the new evil awaited, through the 
 
 Conception of the missuigents, free 
 
 Empower' d to bring from the murky deep, 
 
 All the maladvis'd curses, black, to sweep 
 
 The earth of its blooming fitness for man. 
 
 All the gods of the shady world, which ran 
 
 The list of evils and placed on Ate 
 
 The wage, were there, to await the 
 
 More subtile curse to come, which, promis'd 
 
 Clio, would move sad Ate to be the foremost, 
 
 To sow upon the world the source of strife. 
 
 Woe, sorrow, murder, and the very life. 
 
 Soul and spirit of that potential bane. 
 
 That should after encumber man. The name 
 
 Of the new curse yet promised had not been 
 
 Pronounced. "This curse," Clio said, I ken 
 
 Will more prolific be to engender 
 
 Discords, and distort the sweet and tender 
 
 Chords of human love, than any of the 
 
 Wrongs, sad, black and mischief-making, that we 
 
 Have, the earth threaten' d yet. It is the bane 
 
 Of th' darkest strife ; its essence will arraign 
 
 Father against son, son against father, (4) 
 
 Mother against daughter, and daughter 
 
 Against mother. Moreover there shall be 
 
 Five in one house; two shall be against three, 
 
 And three against two. 'Mong neighbors and friends 
 
 Strife it will engender, and often ends 
 
 Belief with murder. War, its savage mien 
 
 Will blacken. Where'er its name, will be seen 
 
 Ignorance and its twin degredation. 
 
 Always observable in proportion 
 
 To the amount the people have, I name, 
 
 With trepidation, this one crowning bane 
 
 Of earth, the curse of man for all past time. 
 
I02 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 This harbinger of woe, strife and crime, 
 I demominate Religion. It forth 
 Bring, and Ate will sow it on the earth. 
 
 In the assembly of gods arose 
 
 A tumult, each would his own name propose 
 
 For election; and, Pallas was honor'd, 
 
 To make choice and then to send onward. 
 
 With Ate, the scourging bane, that would blend 
 
 All mankind into hatred and would end 
 
 All harmony. To politeness bred, 
 
 Was Apollo; then, arising, said: 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
 "I am the fair-haired son of Latona, 
 
 Spring of her commingling embrace with Jove, 
 
 Who kiss'd a smile from blue-eyed Medona, 
 And left her to bear and fruit his keenest love,. 
 
 And bring the silver-bow bearer forth, 
 
 An honored god, through an ennobled birth. 
 
 She parturient and heavy-footed. 
 
 Forth went to seek a friendly place of earth,, 
 
 Where a goddess might find all thing suited 
 To the event of giving a god in birth. 
 
 Crete, Cos, and the isle of ^gina, 
 
 And likewise was sought nDcky Rehnea. 
 
 Athens paled and the renown' d Euboea 
 Where ships heavy-laden with sail and oar 
 
 Plow'd the deep wave; and, like Mount Phocoeai 
 Shudder' d with fear as well many more 
 
 Mountains, cities and isles of the sea 
 
 To escape the ban of jealous Hera. 
 
 Sea-girth Dalos fear'd to greet Apollo- 
 
 And grant him place of birth, in dread of woe^ 
 
 Lest the black-sea-calves on her bosom wallow 
 And the tenticled polypus breed and grow 
 
 Where man should laugh, till pleading Latona 
 
 Breath 'd an oath to leave it but harmony. 
 
 To it, she pledged a god; — a new born king. 
 
 Whose silver dart should pierce the side of Juno, 
 
 The dam of sin-dy'd Typhon, and bring 
 Her to fierce agony on the ground below,. 
 
Poems of Leisure, 103 
 
 For wedding evil to evil, to lay 
 And rot beneath the Hyperian ray. 
 
 I am the beauteous, the fair-cheek' d youth, 
 Why should I recount my wondrous deeds? 
 
 Are they not sung by all the gods? In truth 
 The seven-stringed cithara and th' reeds 
 
 Relate them and Time's unerring finger 
 
 Has written them. In Dalos they linger. 
 
 Fire of muses stimulating love ! 
 
 Child of Latona and pride of the gods, 
 My praises roll on the winds as they move 
 
 By Cynthus proud mountain, whose templ'd woods 
 Me first shelter gave, its laurels first bays, 
 It honors me now with untrammel'd praise. 
 
 MERCURY. 
 
 I, the time-honor'd son of Maia, 
 
 Spouse of Jove, am. All bow to me in prayer, 
 Great wealth and gain I brought to Patria 
 
 And fame to its borders, and arts most rare, 
 I played to the people in times of old. 
 And school'd them in getting both silver and gold. 
 
 With contrite hearts they lisp my honor'd name, 
 And humbly seek my grace in all their work. 
 
 I am peerless among the gods of fame. 
 In soft-footed prowling when all is dark, 
 
 I eclipse them all, as is the belief 
 
 I am of all, the sliest, grandest thief. 
 
 I cater to all, in their wilder of plays, 
 
 And bring from the tortoise the sweetest strains. 
 
 My eloquent tongue subdue man through praise 
 And capture his soul through the want of brains. 
 
 I rule through the passions, and laughter entail. 
 
 And thus gain, while other gods fail. 
 
 PLUTO. 
 
 My reign is the far deep stygian shore, 
 
 Where manes of the dead are sent for care. 
 
 The gods of Tartarus, where ever more 
 
 Shades will be found in contrition and prayer, 
 
 But never can gain a glimpse of the light, 
 
 But always stay in my reign of night. 
 
I04 Poems of Incisure. 
 
 EROS. 
 
 Most noble Pallas, vving'd, I came from above, 
 Where the eyes glowing of Helois remain; 
 
 I bring in my breast the swift arrows of love, 
 The hearts of the fair are my special domain. 
 
 Oh! soften thine ear to the notes of my tongue, 
 
 While love's blooming glories forever are sung. 
 
 I come with a smile and good wish for them all; 
 
 My quiver I bear with shots for my bow, 
 The heart I ensnare with love's tender thrall, 
 
 Transfixing the soul with a halcyon glow, 
 And binding forever in wedlock serene 
 The lovers who love the sweet pleasures between. 
 
 The flowers that flourish within loving hearts, 
 And fruit in the season of fervor and youth, 
 
 I pierce with the flash of my eye like swift darts. 
 And pinion the heart with the savor of truth. 
 
 Grant to me the reign of a god upon earth, 
 
 And Love will maintain the dominion of birth. 
 
 NEPTUNE. 
 
 From the foam and flow of the ocean's wide spread, 
 Where the dash of the waves and billows are heard. 
 
 Where grief is submerg'd by the laugh of the dead, 
 Attuned by the voices of Nymphians stirr'd, 
 
 To the measure of ecstatic joy to conceive 
 
 That Neptune should rule both the land and the wave. 
 
 I fashion the storm to the dash of the deep, 
 I measure the wind with the bowl of my hand ; 
 
 The Mermaid's sweet song to the Naiads asleep. 
 And Fannies that play on the bloom of the land. 
 
 Alike will obe}^ my Omnipotent will. 
 
 And each like the ocean will glow through my will. 
 
 Just give me the sceptre, and I will command 
 With the mien of a god whose bearing I own — 
 
 The rivers, lakes, oceans, sea and the land, 
 Will flourish with beautv before never known; 
 
 And man will rise up with acclaims of delight, 
 
 And praise you for the crown my head will bedight. 
 
 CERES. 
 
 If true gentleness and plenty be your want 
 
Poems of Leisure. 105 
 
 To win the sceptre for your honor'd hand, 
 Then gracious Pallas why you longer vaunt 
 
 Your stay'd decision, and your just command 
 Reserve? I wear the wreath of plenty; born 
 Of my desires, honey, meat, wine and corn, 
 
 I need but speak, or wave my enchanting hand, 
 To bring in profusion, forth, and gladden 
 
 The soul, and dearth drive from the famish 'd land 
 When smitten by the frown-sadden 
 
 Elf. If life's comforts you would have bestow'd 
 
 Upon the earth, then let me, will, them sow'd. 
 
 JUPITER. 
 
 Why should I before thy shrine, Pallas, kneel 
 And beg for that which of right is my own? 
 
 Humiliated in pride do I feel 
 
 To come before you, as you have always known, 
 
 I am the chief of all the gods of right, 
 
 The crown eternal should my head bedight. 
 
 Do not Vulcan, Vesta, Clio, Juno, 
 
 Acknowledge me supreme among them all? 
 
 Diana, Venus, Neptune, Apollo 
 
 And all the fairies, nymphs, both great and small 
 
 List at what I say, and at my command 
 
 Bow in submissive grace, on sea and land. 
 
 Shy Mercury, e'en my wishes obey. 
 
 Did not my wiles, Prometheus ensnare? 
 I caus'd Deucelion and fair Pyrrha, 
 
 Again the earth to people; now beware ! 
 I am the god of gods, and this I ween, 
 You all will feel, ere long, I am supreme." 
 
 This bold speech, a tumult caus'd. All reason 
 
 From the convention fled, and bold treason 
 
 Against Jupiter was charg'd. Indicted, 
 
 He stood before the gods until righted 
 
 By an oath of allegiance, or occur 
 
 There would among the gods, a fearful war. 
 
 A dark cloud of anger besat the brow 
 
 Of the twelve, save Pallas and Clio; how 
 
 The pending evils they could yet avert, 
 
 Opine they could not; yet they, an effort 
 
 Resolved to make and the clamor surcease, 
 
io6 Poems of JLeisure. 
 
 If it be possible to maintain peace. 
 
 "It is not immortals becoming," plead 
 
 Clio, "in war's anger'd fury to shed 
 
 Blood, when death cannot ensue. I beg, then, 
 
 As Pallas wise can see beyond our ken 
 
 To have her cast the voice of who shall reign 
 
 And let the gods as friends become again." 
 
 Apollo follow'd: "We should not engage 
 
 Our immortal strength in battle's grim rage. 
 
 Ways of Peace more become our august state 
 
 Than frowning war; that leaves a bitter fate 
 
 And some must quaff the lees. I will approve 
 
 The motion. All the gods immortal, move 
 
 To the inner circle, who second me." 
 
 All went, save Jupiter, who could but see 
 
 Disappointment to his fond ambition, 
 
 And would not vow a quiet submission 
 
 To the regime, yet would not, then rebel. 
 
 He saw he had no following, and well 
 
 He knew he could but silent stand and hear 
 
 His rights ignored, which plainly did appear. 
 
 Pallas stepp'd forward, and with mien demure, 
 
 With manners stately and with gestures pure 
 
 Said: "Compatriots of th' noble work, hear 
 
 Me forth' cause we have espous'd and bear 
 
 My feeble words in your memories deep ; 
 
 Mute should be my tongue; my voice should asleep 
 
 Remain, if by fallacious arguing 
 
 I should gain a drift of mind wandering 
 
 From our common mead. What avail soothing 
 
 Words, would be, if, by them we were losing 
 
 The good we seek? No accents sweet, of voice, 
 
 Should lead us from our duty in the choice 
 
 Of noble deeds. The best we say is when 
 
 Our words comport with the greatest good ; then 
 
 We are bless'd in heart satisfactions; bless'd 
 
 In the fruits and the results of th' one test 
 
 Of conscious right. Bless'd by the great and good, 
 
 Bless'd by those we serve, and bless'd by the god 
 
 Of eternal meed. Gods of sombre shade, 
 
 And of glowing Eos ! let facts be laid 
 
 Before you, that you may see what of use 
 
 There be in the great emprise before us, 
 
 To prosecute. The gods of old are dead 
 
Poems of Leisure.' 107 
 
 To the awe of man. It will not be said 
 
 Again, that Osirus, on the throne 
 
 Of Light, dispensing benedictions from 
 
 His peerless realm, has watchful care of man. 
 
 Education has driven him hence, and Pan, 
 
 The nymphs no longer his lyre enchant, 
 
 And Echo will her voice no longer cant. 
 
 Parnassus, the fam'd home of th' gods yet stands, 
 
 But the gods have flown and the outer lands 
 
 Engage them, and we can never more hold 
 
 Man's fond devotions, as we did of old. 
 
 Our prince of mystic gods supreme, 
 Grand Jupiter! I love the same. 
 And would his glory could arise; 
 Stars once esteem' d his glowing eyes 
 Fain not to grace his diadem; 
 And hallow him as they did then ; 
 His reign hath fled that spacious dome 
 And left not even faith alone. 
 But his name now lies at the feet 
 Of man; who learn'd each gods retreat, 
 Snatched off the veil and then expos' d 
 
 Each empty throne, each hollow shrine, 
 
 Each hiding place, where gods divine, 
 In former times with pride repos'd 
 
 In some sequester'd solitude, 
 
 In safety and in quietude. 
 
 Where always sleeps infinitude. 
 When we fled the earth, man in wisdom grew; 
 Then follow'd happiness. Who ever knew 
 Man to flourish in blind ignorance? 
 Stupidity admits of no defense, 
 Among the mortals; but gods more wise 
 Can rule his brain only when his eyes 
 To knowledge are clos'd. Our reign now is o'er, 
 We must find a god. man knew not before, 
 A god 'neath whose rule man cannot flourish — 
 Cannot love himself; nor can he nourish 
 Fond thoughts of humanity. Does not Greece 
 Grow insolent and proud, as we release 
 Our hold upon her? Look at the vain men 
 With heads erect and steps like bucks of Glenn ! 
 The tranquil smile upon the women rest; 
 The child sucks comfort from the mother breast ; 
 
loS Poems of Leisure. 
 
 And damsels flip the frill b}^ laughing toe 
 
 And care not a whit but for things below. 
 
 Great cities, man has built in reaching plains 
 
 And wasteful wreck is sinking stately fanes ; 
 
 They now repeat the old, old story. 
 
 That man comes up as gods go down. Glory 
 
 To god is oppression to man. We must 
 
 Do our duty, and, to ourselves be just, 
 
 And skeptic man bring back to god again, 
 
 Or strew his bleachen bones in every plain. 
 
 In peaceful pursuits man pursues his way. 
 
 He fears not Sharon, Ptah, Pluto, or Fay; 
 
 There is a cruel god, who'll bring man back. 
 
 I will but nominate and you elect; 
 
 'Tis Jahveh, of the wasted plain, I name. 
 
 Comes from his nostrils smoke; his eyes a flame (5) 
 
 Of fire shoots; rests his feet on burning coals; 
 
 His hair is white, a golden girdle folds 
 
 About his paps; great horns grow on his hand, 
 
 A two-edg'd sword protrudes at his command 
 
 From his mouth ; he exclaims with ecstacy, 
 
 "I am the god and there is none like me!" 
 
 Him we now elect, ran from tongue to tongue, 
 
 Of all. May his celestial praise be sung. 
 
 And Ate flew on hurried wings to earth 
 
 And sow'd with swift and lavish hands the birth 
 
 Of all wrong; follow'd in her wake a sigh 
 
 Andbrim'd with sorrow, sad, each tearful eye. 
 
 This is the religion that I will name 
 
 Unbounded faith in Jahveh, and the same 
 
 Obeisance to the pope that some fancied 
 
 God obtains from man by ignorance led — 
 
 Man's first crude thought is god. His next is reason 
 
 His last and best is of man. 'Twas treason, 
 
 In the da3^s when the priests ruled with design \ 
 
 For man to think or speak beyond the line 
 
 Prescribed by some ecclesiarch, and held 
 
 By force as mandates of some god, excell'd 
 
 By nothing save himself unto himself; 
 
 Who reserved all men and things for his pelf, 
 
 And for thought divine, in man, wrath untold 
 
 Upon his unforgiven head in bold 
 
 Assumption was plied. Reason, child of thought. 
 
 As a silent monitor, came and wrought 
 
Poems of Leisure. 109 
 
 Wondrous reforms. Now it is, man can, 
 Without th' fear of flame, think and work for man. 
 Glorious advent! Oh! reason, Oh! thought, 
 Receiv^e them man, and use them as you ought. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 Never shown virtue more comely. Few 
 
 Were th' sighs of sorrow, few the signs of wrong. 
 Beautiful Litai, strew' d with her hand 
 
 Of heavenly wisdom, the seeds of true 
 
 Manhood through the earth. From her lips she sung 
 Of fraternal love. Glorious and grand 
 
 Arose the heart, mellow' d unto the stream 
 
 Of universal good. Life, as a dream 
 
 Of golden beatitudes, ran its peaceful 
 
 Course, upon the earth, to a more beautiful 
 
 Tenure. The tender kiss of loving grace 
 
 And unmistaken confidence, the face 
 
 Of Innocence bejewel'd. Silver age. 
 
 And the ruddy lips of youth, ran the page 
 
 Of time, together. The hearts of all were young. 
 
 On th' censorious chord of life was hung 
 
 The cithara of harmony. Man claim'd 
 
 The devoirs of man. That epoch was fam'd 
 
 For dependence one upon another. 
 Smil'd in tender love, the rosy mother. 
 
 Walk'd obeisant children with uncowering 
 
 Eyes. Kings and priests were not. No towering 
 
 Fanes mark'd the gloom of day. Bow'd his head 
 
 To no superior. For ages had 
 
 The grand, the glorious and beautiful 
 
 Been his instructors; and, most dutiful 
 
 Was he to them. No cloud, his life obscur'd. 
 
 From all evil entanglements, adjured 
 
 He was. The earth produced her plenty. Rain 
 
 And harvest came and went, and came again, 
 
 In due time; and, man in the bloom of health. 
 
 And with pure heart, enjoy' d her bounteous wealth. 
 
 Litas, the fulness of the earth saw, and smil'd. 
 
 The face of fair heaven, yet undefil'd 
 
 By the noxious eye of deception, sent 
 
 A refrain of joy back with beauty blent, 
 
 From out the sky, a whisper low was heard, 
 
 The listing clouds, by zephyr's wing was stirr'd. 
 
no , Poems of I^eisiire. 
 
 Through the rift in argent flame, 
 
 In stoles of white, an angel came, 
 
 And as she bent on rapid sail 
 
 To Lit£e from a golden grail, 
 
 She gave a seed of matchless worth. 
 
 ''Sow this!" she said, "upon the earth. 
 
 For Truth it is and must prevail, 
 
 I brought it in my goldon grail." 
 
 Then rising on the wings of light 
 
 She vanished from the pale of sight. 
 
 This golden age was not to last. 
 
 The cruel Fates, by vile decree. 
 Commissioned Ate with the task 
 
 Of breaking its felicity. 
 Upon the case of serpent skin, the name 
 Was writ of Jahveh. When she saw the same. 
 Ate upon her brow fix'd a deep frown; 
 And thus old Eblis said: "You are arm'd; down 
 To the hateful earth, you at once proceed 
 And with unceasing hand, sow you the seed 
 In the serpent case held, as you sow, proclaim : 
 'This seed I scatter in the holy name 
 Of Jahveh.' Sing th' sad and dolorous song 
 Of Sirat, Tartarus, of Nox and wrong: ; 
 Go with the east winds, go with the west winds: 
 
 Go wherever the wild winds blow ; 
 Scatter the seeds of dolorous sins, 
 
 Scatter the seeds of Jahveh and woe." 
 Ate linger' d not; on rushing wing, flew 
 She to the fair earth, and o'er its face drew 
 The curtain of sadness and wrong. 
 
 As she bent her earthward flight, 
 She roU'd on the dark waves the song 
 
 That came from the shadows of night; 
 That came from the haunt of the ghouls ; 
 The den of the gorgons, home of the owls; 
 That came from demons doleful; 
 That came from dungeons woeful. 
 She sang as she went, 
 This withering shent: 
 "I sow in the name of Jahveh, — 
 
 I sow on the ocean and strand; 
 Sow for sad discord and Jahveh; 
 
 I sow on the rivers and land. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 1 1 1 
 
 I go on the north winds, go on the south winds, 
 
 Go to each nation and clan ; 
 I go with the east winds, go with the west winds, 
 
 And blow these evils on man." 
 
 As a vulture from her hidden recluse, 
 
 Be3^ond the gnarls of the clouds, Ate forth came. 
 
 And brought on her wing the withering news 
 That Jahveh was ruling, and tire and flame 
 
 Consume, would, the soul who felt not the faith 
 
 New born in his breast, and, who would not choose 
 
 For Truth's prostrate form, the late conceived myth, 
 Jahveh, the adopted god of the Jews. 
 
 As earthward she came, o'er mountain and field, 
 The seeds of religion she threw far and wide; 
 
 Where'er they fell like a shaft on a shield 
 It humbled the bearer in person and pride. 
 
 Sublime in her terror, she came; the earth 
 In its orbit rock'd th' rock of desolation. 
 
 Loud thunders crash, and heavy claps the birth 
 Of lightning brought, and deep consternation 
 
 Fiird the timid mind of man; and his eyes, 
 
 By th' dust of superstition beclouded. 
 Saw not bevond the calm and cerule skies. 
 
 Whose glowing face Jahveh had shrouded. 
 
 Man converted, fell upon man in rage, 
 
 But for what cause, his judgment could not find. 
 
 For selfish meed, the monk', with cowl, and page 
 Of doubtful writ, play'd on the puerile mind 
 
 And mov'd the passion to a frenzied state, 
 
 Where Reason is dethroned and through the guilt 
 
 Of that jealous god, which would immolate 
 Fair Virtue on the altar Faith had built. 
 
 Such were the curses black-wing'd Ate brought: 
 Such was the smiling earth, before the fane 
 
 Of Jahveh gloom 'd her face with teachings wrought 
 With superstition, too absurd to name. 
 
 A cloud o'ershadowed Rome. Egypt again 
 Went back to the shades. Her glorious name 
 
112 Poems of I^eisure. 
 
 Was tarnished and her prestige soon declin'd; 
 And helpless now in grief, she calls to mind 
 The lotty state of the Talmaic rule; 
 When the world of letters went to her to school. 
 
 Now is lading Cj recce : tliat smiling (ircccc now no more 
 The same sun lights her miUl and mellow skies, 
 
 The same waters gird her firm and rocky shore, 
 The same mountains their lofty heads arise. 
 
 W'X present (ireece, is smilitig (jrecce no more; 
 
 ller glory has departed and her pride, 
 in valiant deeds now guild her name no more; 
 
 She now hut lives to own a failing tide. 
 
 The sullen tongue ma^'^ name Demostlienes, 
 
 And cite the forum of his glory won ; 
 Or mav recount the deeds of Pericles, 
 
 lint cannot boast of such another son. 
 
 Tir lace of proud Athens, whose learning and skill. 
 Have won from the world its fondest esteem ; 
 
 Felt th' breath of decay encumber her will, 
 And her greatness fled away like a dream. 
 
 Where is the glory of Greece, and her isles. 
 
 Where Pindar sang and Sappho loved and wrote? 
 
 Her learning now, but thro' memory smiles. 
 
 Which students con and stately scholars quote. 
 
 Minerva and the Pantheon combine. 
 
 To render Phidias ever after known. 
 Less ordy in the sculptor's art divine 
 
 Compare they to the matchless Laocoon. 
 
 "iliy stylus stands unrival'd Apelles, 
 
 Thy brush gave Alexander form and grace; 
 
 While he was moulding nations to his please. 
 On canvass, you Mattering were his face. 
 
 The learned, yet to Pvuclid, go to sciiool. 
 
 15y theorems get the solid of a hole ; 
 Pythagoras found Deitv by rule. 
 
 By numbers prov'd the r.s'.sv of the soid. 
 
 When a knight of arms seeks prowess in the liekl. 
 And wish his name enroU'd in verse and son<r; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 113 
 
 His glove intrepid at the latest wield, 
 And shouts Miltiades and Marathon. 
 
 There ^schylus took his majestic flights, 
 And sightless Homer, by his songs sublime, 
 
 Made rules to guide the lesser lights, 
 
 That flood a willing world with vapid rhyme. 
 
 Design of architect and workman's skill, 
 On Elgin stone and architraves of gold, 
 
 The Acropolis claims our wonder still, 
 And makes us bow to masters eons old. 
 
 Greece spoke thro' her grandeur, lived in her men, 
 Gilded the pride of the world by her fame. 
 
 But now she is weak, as strong she was then; 
 She lives to-day in the shades of her name. 
 
 The stern hand of Time has crumbled her walls, 
 The night of her past has shaded her domes. 
 
 The spires of her fanes her glory appalls, 
 
 And Greece has disgraced the name that she owns. 
 
 No champering steed snuffs the battle afar. 
 
 No panoplied youth feels the pride of his race. 
 The monk in his stole glooms the face of her star, 
 
 And Greece bears the shroud of Greece in disgrace. 
 
 Then Truth took its wing of returning flight. 
 
 And soar'd away to its heavenly wone. 
 And left man to wrestle with Jahveh and night, 
 
 Till Reason again return'd to its zone. 
 
 "I've told you what it was," Cobolus said, 
 "How the gods conspired before the red 
 Cross, by Augustine, on his standard rais'd; 
 And, how the guilt of blood his minions prais'd; 
 How Fausta plead, and, Crispus lost his head, 
 A blooming son ; and how the millions dead 
 Begrim'd the earth with ghast and bleaching bones, 
 How saintly prayers, euphonious the groans 
 Of skeptics made. The rest, th' historic pen 
 Has made infamous to discerning men. 
 Who th' Romish rule behold with sighs and tears 
 And shrink at the thought of the thousand years 
 Of darkness they drew o'er the orient, 
 And of the blood the holy (?) fathers spent. 
 
114 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 That was a reign of crime unspeakable, 
 That made the church of Rome despicable. 
 That was the way the church became supreme 
 And wrung from man, subdu'd, the last fond dream 
 Of hope, and thralled him by religion dire 
 That batten'd on the rack, dungeon and fire; 
 Invok'd to aid the t3a-ants in their zeal 
 To torture man that god might gain the weal. 
 
 The fair earth trembl'd, and the golden cheek 
 
 Of Helois dark and sombre became. Weak 
 
 Was Astrea then. Fear ov^ershadow'd man; 
 
 Strife and contention ruled. Clan after clan. 
 
 In contention rose. Divisions and disputes 
 
 Prevalent became. Imitated brutes. 
 
 More man did, than did they their former selves. 
 
 Forgotten all were the jo3^ous indwells 
 
 Of friendship of former times. Enmities 
 
 Arose; and, crime, heighten'd by jealousies. 
 
 Deep intensified by the wage of hate. 
 
 Ran rife. Wars ensued and the luster late 
 
 Of earth faded away and became lost 
 
 In the bewilderments of prayers, that cost 
 
 Man horrors immeasurable. The bloom 
 
 of fraternal love and light, the gloom 
 
 Of Hate arose to kill. Man bow^'d his head 
 
 In deep and contrite prayer, while, in his red 
 
 Hand the haggard cross was held, on his tongue 
 
 Lingered husky curses. On the air, rung 
 
 The sad, doleful anathemas burning 
 
 With ire against all the forms of learning 
 
 That blest the earth of erst. Skeptics alive 
 
 Were chained in scorching flame, that there might thrive 
 
 An obeisant faith in the god new born, 
 
 Whose dark reign across the glorious morn 
 
 Of man cast a sad and withering blight. 
 
 And, on the bright day of knowledge, the night 
 
 Of ignorance came. From his lofty state 
 
 Man sank to ignominy. Then the great 
 
 Was reckoned by the ingenious skill 
 
 He devised of torture, first, and then, kill 
 
 Outright, a noble fellow. Those were times 
 
 When Faith atoned for baleful sin by crimes. 
 
 When Priestcraft ruled the world and Justice slept. 
 
 When Religion smiled and Virtue wept. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 115 
 
 Dreadful was that night; that long night of man, 
 
 Whose deep, unfathom'd darkness never can, 
 
 While Time its onward course pursue, repay 
 
 The terrors it brought forth. That baleful day, 
 
 We shudder to recall ; but the deep cast 
 
 Of its hidden wrongs, unnumber'd, will last 
 
 In unbroken shame for aye. Th' sun arose 
 
 And smiled and set; but unto man the close 
 
 Of day drew nigh; all hope had disappear'd, 
 
 And the maw of desolation cheered 
 
 Him by fitful dreams. He lived, but to dread, 
 
 The life he held. The deep and heavy tread 
 
 Around the smould'ring embers of his day. 
 
 Was but the knell of happiness. The ray 
 
 Of hope had flown. As a whipp'd slave he grouped 
 
 Beneath the lash, his life along. His stoop'd 
 
 Eyes arose but to confront a deeper threat 
 
 From some surplic'd monk, who deign'd not to whet 
 
 His tooth of woe on coarser food than the moans 
 
 Of helpless suspects, whose deep, subdued groans 
 
 Were answered by a fiercer scourge, deeper 
 
 Wound. Happy was the day when the sleeper 
 
 Slept the sleep of death. Lorn Misery gazed 
 
 On Misery in silence. Famine praised 
 
 The barren rock for succor. There strong men 
 
 Stood in helplessness and in suspense. When 
 
 They asked for mercy, there were sent on high 
 
 Prayers for their skeptic souls. Every cry 
 
 Echoed a fiercer pain, a deeper sigh. 
 
 Such was Religion in its reign supreme. 
 
 Then Happiness was a forgotten dream. 
 
 With curses were men's bones crushed, and, the wheel, 
 
 The rack, thumb-screw and torch for the weal 
 
 Of god were used, which were acceptable 
 
 Proofs that they were the most delectable 
 
 Savors of grace divine. The curling smoke 
 
 Of victims chained in fire, did invoke 
 
 The highest smiles of Jahveh, thron'd on high. 
 
 Who smiled to see a disbeliever die. 
 
 Nay, shrink not! Such were the effects that fell 
 On man, at the hands of Ate. She well, 
 Her duty did," Cobolus said. "Man now. 
 Through the school of hatred has knit his brow 
 
1 16 Poems of Letsw-e. 
 
 Against his fellow man, all must allow. 
 
 The black shroud of Hate, the world encumbers, 
 
 From Afrigah's sunny south to the numbers 
 
 Of north wind. From the glowing orient 
 
 To the dipping verge of eve that has sent 
 
 Its last adieu, of day, across the starlit 
 
 Brow of Night, arise one continued wail 
 
 Of distress; and, we ask why this detail 
 
 Of universal woe, if god be just? 
 
 Or is he curbed in his omniscient trust?" 
 
 "Throughout all this vast world, animation 
 
 On animation feeding. Prostration 
 
 Of beings and life is universal. 
 
 In the deep, unfathom'd sea, the dorsal 
 
 Tribes each other eat, and with gourmand greed 
 
 Species on species ravenously feed. 
 
 On the land where the zephyrs dance on wung 
 
 Of golden beam and sweet throat birds low sing 
 
 Of Joys spent, one charnal world of woe 
 
 Arrest our ken. All above, all below. 
 
 The visage sad of deep unrest pervades. 
 
 The dark frown of disease and death, all grades 
 
 Of life assail. When Death becomes too tame 
 
 To be an unwelcome guest, then the name 
 
 Of God is spoke and th' genius of man 
 
 Is invok'd; and through th' frowns of crime, the ban 
 
 Of Popery is laid upon him. The 
 
 Joy of which is man's deepest misery. 
 
 God wrote upon the face of all. His woe, 
 
 And made the world one vast field of sorrow. 
 
 The sun paints on the blue and bending sky. 
 
 In furtive gleams of gold, a trenchant lie. 
 
 All nature presents the face of Janus 
 
 To our view. Our beating hearts within us 
 
 Bewail the gilding outside of the world, 
 
 While neath the film deep lies gnarled andtwirl'd 
 
 A bitter reality; curse on curse 
 
 Arise to blight the every thought. Worse 
 
 They are the more the world to us, reveal' d 
 
 Is. A hideous mawk the world a field 
 
 Presents. All is one vast deceptive grave, 
 
 Where Joy is interr'd and Hope made a slave. 
 
 Each radiant morn brings new curses forth. 
 
 And burden the burden'd frame with the worth 
 
Poems of Leisure. 117 
 
 Of anguish fed on Anguish newly born. 
 
 Then burning fever makes the flush cheek lorn 
 
 And lank. Famine, gaunt-eyed and ravenous, 
 
 Stays not his withering breath. Helplessness 
 
 Sees his face and dies; dies to leave behind 
 
 Lessons to man unheeded, of th' unkind 
 
 Hand of wealth clutched in the wan throat of Want, 
 
 Tight and relentless. Yet, the poor slaves vaunt 
 
 Their price of freedom in the face of Pride 
 
 And cry aloud, as other fools have cried, 
 
 For God and Liberty. Yet comes there back 
 
 No answering joy ; no comforting pact 
 
 For good ; but again new hopes illusive 
 
 Spring up and breed thoughts anew, seductive 
 
 To the mind, to bear their woes and contend 
 
 Anew for something worse, on to the end." 
 
 Up through the fading gray, kiss'd b}^ pearly dew, 
 
 On wings of matchless grace, in transit flew 
 
 To the verge of Ebon. With fingers deft, 
 
 Litai drew the dense veil of Night and cleft 
 
 Its shadows from the earth; back flew its folds, 
 
 And in the light afar man beholds 
 
 His triumph. Cobolus, in the throes of fright. 
 
 Renounced his reign and to the glooms of Night 
 
 He sped his way. "It is mine," Lit« said: 
 
 "To teach man w^hat religion is." She spread 
 
 Across th' sky th' thought. "There is a future. 
 
 Grand and inspiring to man; much richer 
 
 And more prolific than the proffer'd wage 
 
 Through indulgences offered for th' outrage 
 
 Of a holy crime. It is felt and seen 
 
 In the smiles of love, which will grow and gleam 
 
 Through all nature and live through all life. 
 
 It will dull th' tooth of Hate and conquer Strife. 
 
 It will dress the earth wath a new garment 
 
 And gild anew the hanging firmament. 
 
 With jewels bright. Man's mind will grow broader, 
 
 His heart more tender, and friendship stronger. 
 
 Than of erst. Great is this coming power. 
 
 In this reign of man, a tinted flower 
 
 Will impart more pleasure than a sear'd leaf, 
 
 A truth, more potent will be, than belief. 
 
ii8 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 A smile will be more welcome than a frown. 
 Man will strive to upbuild, and not tear down. 
 
 There will be more pleasure in joy than tears ; 
 
 Man will no longer tremble in the fears 
 
 Of some great sempeternal inflatus 
 
 Devised by priests; the worst is the latest 
 
 Conception of the kind." Then on she spake: 
 
 "Send back those gnomes of ill. I came to break 
 
 That spell of error and enable man, 
 
 Blind, deaf, weak and lorn, to resume the van 
 
 Of progress, and back cast the heresy 
 
 That this blooming earth is the heathery 
 
 Of inborn sin, depravity and crime. 
 
 Earth is, I came to teach, the crowning prime 
 
 Of all excellence, of all beauty and 
 
 Grandeur. Divest it of the heavy hand 
 
 Of Jahveh, Superstition, Ignorance, 
 
 The church of Rome and their concomitance; 
 
 Then will man assume his own proper place. 
 
 And will Love and Concord, with Truth, embrace 
 
 The world." She wav'd her hand across the face 
 
 Of space, and. Night disappear'd; in its place 
 
 Was seen, shadows lost, of disappearing 
 
 Gods. As they went, Litas said: "Nearing 
 
 The end on earth, of their dark reign, they are. 
 
 In their place, long so dreadful, the star 
 
 Of man is coming, and, with that star all 
 
 The blessings of intelligence will fall 
 
 To him. Peace will take the place of War; Hate 
 
 Will succumb to the smiles of love and mate 
 
 To the fulfillment of all good. With the 
 
 Ten cardinal virtues, man will be free 
 
 To bless his fellow man, and live. Then Hfe, 
 
 Glorious pulsation, will fill not th' strife 
 
 Of other days; but in a blissful gleam 
 
 Flow on in one grand perennial stream 
 
 Of felicitude. Then will each tongue proclaim 
 
 Aloud the jovful song that man again 
 
 Has clasped the hand of fellow man and smiled. 
 
 He will vow the vow that will not have defil'd 
 
 Innocence, or brought th' name of man to shame. 
 
 All the glories of this earth and the fame 
 
 Of heaven will be his." While thus she spake. 
 
 She stretch' d her sylphan hand across the wake 
 
Poems of Leisure. 119 
 
 Of the orient. With strokes of sunht rays 
 She wrote in golden words: "Arise, thy days 
 Oh ! man, are here. Place not, in gloomy fanes. 
 Thy hope, or thy confidence; but side by side 
 With Love, Truth, Justice, Mercy and the pride 
 Of self, place Education, Hope, Good-will 
 For all, with Charity you will fulfill 
 Your mission, and, never on earth again 
 Will Jahveh spread his fierce and sable reign. 
 His is the reign of dark superstition 
 Not becoming man or his condition." 
 
 "A true religion I have come to bring; 
 
 One you can live b}^, die by and sing; 
 
 I bring the religion of living in health ; 
 
 The religion of plenty and of wealth ; 
 
 Religion that clasps each man by the hand, 
 
 And gleans for their meed the wealth of the land. 
 
 The religion of man and of his needs 
 
 That follows where'er Humanity leads: 
 
 It softens the heart and strengthens the mind, 
 
 It makes all alike submissive and kind. 
 
 It renders to all the glow of th' day. 
 
 It brightens the life, and shortens the way 
 
 That leads to the good of celestial bliss 
 
 And opens a world far brighter than this. 
 
 It teaches no guile ; it fosters no sting ; 
 
 It robes the brow with the garlands of spring; 
 
 Harmony spread in humanity's way 
 
 In a river of love, coursing away 
 
 In grandeur to the broad ocean afar, 
 
 In sweet communion of Peace ev'rywhere. 
 
 This is religion reduced and refin'd 
 
 To serve and promote the needs of mankind. 
 
 Religion that weigheth not the belief 
 
 That kissing the cross is the price of relief. 
 
 But exacts of all this sine qua non 
 
 That life is the measure of what you have done; 
 
 And all must respond to the deeds that he greets 
 
 And given the meed for the measure he meets. 
 
I20 Poems, of Leisure. 
 
 NOTES ON PHANTASMAGORIA OF THE GODS. 
 
 NOTE I, PAGE. 84 LINE 1 8. 
 
 " 'Twould have been much better far. Cobolus .sighed.''' 
 The- Kobalds were supposed evil .spirit.s that were believed to infest 
 mines and subterranean caverns. They were supposed to possess the power 
 of poisoning the air of mines, and of corrupting minerals. Prayers were of- 
 fered up in the German churches against them 
 
 But now they cease to bother intelligent miners, who have learned that 
 bad air is produced by gases; that carburetted hydrogen gas, with a small 
 proportion of olefiant gas, produces what is known as tire damps, and that a 
 current of fresh air will do more good in driving out these poisonous accumu- 
 lations than all the prayers ever offered up for relief. 
 
 NOTE 2, PAGE 87, LINE 36. 
 
 "I conquer all, save Litae.'" 
 
 Litae was a goddess, the sister of cruel Ate and the daughter of Jupiter. 
 She was by nature the opposite of Ate. Ate was cruel, Litae kind. Ate a 
 mischief maker ; Litte sowed the seeds of peace and concord, wherever she 
 went. 
 
 NOTE 3. PAGE 91. LINE 3. 
 
 "Daughter of the shade bent low 
 
 Her ebon wing and bade fair Ate go." 
 
 Ate was a goddess of infatuation and mischief. It was her purpose to 
 mislead. All the evils were of her delight. She went over the earth sowing 
 their baleful effects wherever she could do so. Following her was prayerful 
 Litae, trying, through penance, prayers and kindness, to avert the evils of her 
 sister Ate. This allegory is emblematic of man, who never thinks of repent- 
 ing until the evil is done and then it is too late. Shame is not usually reck- 
 oned as flowing from the act. but results from detection. Then the sinner 
 becomes a devout practicer of prayers. 
 
 NOTE 4. PAGE 108. LINE I5. 
 
 " 'Tis Jahveh of the wasted plane I naTe.''' 
 
 The name of the deity of the Semitic race called Hebrews, has gone 
 through several changes, since it was introduced to that people by David, 
 after his abode with the Philistines and Phoenicians. He first was called 
 Jeh, but now it is Jehovah, which Rev. J. W. Chadwick. in the bible of to- 
 day, says is incorrect. When the name became too ineffable to be spoken, 
 it was represented by the consonants, J H V H. When, at length it be- 
 came customary to fill in the vowels, instead of taking the vowels originally 
 understood with J H V H, they took the vowels belonging to Adonai, or 
 Elohim, making the name either Jehovah or fehovih. The proper orthogra- 
 phy of the word is Jahveh, which is pronounced Yah'weh. 
 
 NOTE 4, PAGE lOI, LINE 32 
 
 "Father against .son, son against father.'' 
 
 "And brother shall deliver up brother to death, and the father the child; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 121 
 
 and the children shall rise up against their parents, and cause them to be put 
 to death."- Matthew x, verse 21. 
 
 Christ speaking of his mission, says: 
 
 '•Think not that 1 am come to send peace to the earth; I came not to 
 send peace but a sword ; for I am come to set man at variance against his 
 father; and the daughter against her mother; and the daughter-in-law against 
 the mother-in-law And a man's foes shall be of his own household. He 
 that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that 
 loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me." - Matt, x., verses 
 34 to 38. 
 
 Christ denied his mother and brothers. 
 
 "While yet he talked to the people behold his mother and brethren stood 
 without, desiring to speak to him. Then one said unto him, 'Behold thy 
 mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak to thee,' but he 
 answered and said unto him that told him, 'Who is my mother? and who are 
 my brethren?' And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and 
 said, 'Behold my mother and my brethren.' "—Matt xi., verses 46 to 49. 
 
 "The son of man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out 
 of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniquity; and shall 
 cast them into a furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." 
 — Matt , XIII., verses 41 and 42. 
 
 Christ promises a terrible punishment, but a good way off; he says: 
 "So shall it be at the end of the world; the angels shall come foith, and 
 sever the wicked from among the just; and shall cast them into the furnace 
 of fire; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. "^Matt., xiii., verses 
 49 and 50. 
 
 "And every one that have forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or 
 father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall 
 receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting life." — Matt., xix., 
 verse 29. 
 
 "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, 
 and children, and brethren, and sisters; yea, and his own life also, he cannot 
 be my disciple." — Luke, xiv., verse 26. 
 
 "For I say unto you, that unto every one which hath shall be given; and 
 from him that hath not, even that he hath shall be taken away from him ; but 
 those of mine enemies, which would not that I should reign over them, bring 
 hither and slay them before me." — Luke, xix., verses 26 and 27. 
 
 NOTE 5, PAGE 108, LINE l6. 
 
 "Comes from his nostril smoke; his eyes a flame." 
 
 "There went up smoke out of his nostrils; and fire out of his mouth; 
 devoured coals were kindled by it." — Psalms, xviii., 8. 
 
 "Round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies." — 
 Psalms, v., 2. 
 
122 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 "His head and hair were white like wool ; and his eyes were as a flame 
 of fire." -Rev., i., 14. 
 
 "And his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace." — 
 Rev., v., 15. 
 
 "He had horns coming out of his hand, and burning coals went forth at 
 his feet."— Heb., iii., 4. 
 
 "Clothed with a garment down to the feet, and girth about the paps with 
 a golden girdle."— Rev., I., 13. 
 
 "Out of his mouth went a sharp two edged sword." — Rev., v., 16. 
 
 "I form the light, and create darkness; I make peace, and create evil." 
 — Isaiah, xlv., 7. 
 
 "For I am the Lord and there is none else; there is no god beside me." 
 — Isaiah, xlv., 5, 
 
Poems of Leisure. 123 
 
 EARLY POEMS. 
 
 BLESS THE FIRST GIRL WHO INVENTED A KISS. 
 
 Of all the beautiful 
 
 Things neath the skies, 
 Is the port of a maiden 
 
 With half roguish eyes; 
 With red pouting lips, 
 
 Like cherries so fair, 
 Which say without saying, 
 
 "Take one, if you dare." 
 I took one. Who would not? 
 
 So ripe hanging there, 
 I could not withstand 
 
 Such a temptingly dare. 
 Then I floated away 
 
 On the ocean of bliss, 
 And bless' d the first girl who 
 
 Invented a kiss. 
 And away, and away. 
 
 On the ocean of bHss; 
 And blessed the first girl 
 
 Who invented a kiss. 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 Could angels take a maid's address. 
 And walk in flesh as mortals do. 
 
 Yourself would on my mind impress. 
 An angel was possessed of you. 
 
 There rests on thee a queenly grace, 
 In charms of sweetest beauty worn, 
 
 You seem as of the finite race, 
 Enwrapped in pure angelic form. 
 
 Thy visage cast in beauty mild, 
 
 My heart with purest thoughts inspire 
 
 Enthrall me as a trusting child, 
 
 And thrills my breast with latent fire. 
 
 I cannot change my thoughts with coy, 
 I cannot move this heart of mine ; 
 
 With fond devotions of a boy, 
 I kneel to worship at thy shrine. 
 
124 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 WHATEVER YOU SOW THE HARVEST STILL GIVES. 
 
 Mavvking the mavis of the early spring, 
 
 I heard a maiden of her secrets sing, 
 
 In the deep dense woods or o'er the sea, 
 
 My heart and fondest thoughts will follow thee. 
 
 Though withered thy love as the roses may be. 
 I will wear it still in fond memory. 
 And ever it shall in my fructuous brain, 
 Inspire my heart to love, though love in vain. 
 
 Thy love like the wind, listeth a while. 
 Then changing its course, and simply a smile. 
 Returning to me, when passing away; 
 As if winning a heart means simply play. 
 
 Your game has beenplay'd; your victory complete, 
 Your songs were delusive, smiles were deceit, 
 Your cheeks wore the tinge of a manly grace, 
 But your heart belied the looks of your face. 
 
 You may turn from me, as a victim cast. 
 Your smiles will not glow, or victory last. 
 Whatever you sow the harvest still gives. 
 Though Hope may be crush' d, Memory still lives. 
 
 TO LINDA. 
 
 Oh ! could I waft my thoughts of fire. 
 
 That now inflame my yearning heart, 
 And in your heaving breast inspire, 
 
 A true conception of the spark 
 That burns within my bosom true, 
 With love intense for you, dear, you. 
 Words are too meager in their sweep. 
 
 To picture love-throbs as they fly ; 
 But true hearts read their language deep. 
 
 As telegraphed from eye to eye. 
 When love's electric flashes roll 
 From face to face, from soul to soul. 
 
 No linguist can those throbs portray; 
 
 No language can the measure fill; 
 No limner paint that ecstac}'', 
 
 Or speech describe the stirring thrill 
 That two warm, loving hearts evolve, 
 When kisses neath four Hps dissolve- 
 
Poems of Leisure. 125 
 
 THE RIVER OF LOVE. 
 
 I walked neath the boughs of a willow, 
 
 Where the currents of two rivers meet; 
 I stood in the depths of its shadow. 
 
 That fell like a veil at my feet; 
 I saw the two rivers flow onward, 
 
 In union toward the deep sea; 
 I watched their two currents flow downward. 
 
 And mingle in felicity. 
 
 I thought, as I stood by that river, 
 
 Made whole by the union of two. 
 Of the rivers that flow on together; 
 
 Of hearts that are faithful and true. 
 I thought of the deep-seated pleasure, 
 
 The lasting accord and esteem; 
 That bless the two hearts without measure, 
 
 When love rules the course of the stream. 
 
 I thought of the lives that flow onward, 
 
 As rivers flow on to the sea; 
 Mid flowers and foliage savored. 
 
 With smiles born of sweet harmony. 
 I thought of the flow of that river; 
 
 How placid its deep waters move ; 
 Full freighted with smiles for each other, 
 
 On borne to the ocean of love. 
 
 WHERE LOVE BEGINS. 
 
 Love begins with a twinkle and smile ; 
 A glow of expression ; 
 A glinting of bliss ; 
 An ecstatic thrill that twirls awhile. 
 With a fond impression 
 Words fail to express. 
 Thus love begins. 
 
 And thus love ends. 
 Love ends with th' chill of a lusterless eye; 
 A slight cloud of neglect ; 
 A far away cast; 
 
126 Poems of Leisure, 
 
 A word that would shade the birth of a sigh. 
 A smile that doth reflect 
 
 The wage of a task — 
 'Tis thus love ends. 
 
 THE PANGS OF FIRST LOVE. 
 
 You may sing of the winter, may sing of the spring. 
 
 May sing of the long, long ago. 
 But I have a sweeter, sweet song than all them, 
 
 A song that I sing where'er I go; 
 A song that I love, and always must sing. 
 
 It is the sweet song of first love. 
 The sonfj of first love. 
 
 'Twas Sophia's blue eyes that filled me with bliss,. 
 
 The eyes that bewildered my heart; 
 Her lips were unchent by the touch of a kiss. 
 
 Her voice riv'd my heart like a dart, 
 And made me a slave. I thought not amiss, 
 
 A slave to the pangs of first love ; 
 To the pangs of first love. 
 
 BLESSED IS THAT ONE. 
 
 Bless' d is that one who feels and knows 
 That friendship is the jewel' d bo^n, 
 
 That Love, its child, forever glows 
 Where friendship is allowed to bloom. 
 
 Bless'd are those tender smiles of love. 
 Which imitate the rose's tint 
 
 Of morning, as she lifts the veil 
 
 From off the dew-kissed rose to ghnt 
 
 Away on zephyr wings above, 
 
 To friendship's founts, that never fail. 
 
 The smile of heaven always lends 
 
 A grace that moves a constant heart; 
 
 And bliss serene always attends 
 The love that fills a lover's part. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 127 
 
 A SONG. FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 When melts the white snow, out in the deep forest. 
 
 And violets upraise their bright, tiny heads, 
 The birds, that have slept the cold winter through. 
 
 Awake to life again, melodious chords. 
 
 When come the spring roses, the heart should be glad, 
 For this is the time for the smiles of true love ; 
 
 For only the roses bloom fresh in the spring. 
 
 Like love true of the heart. True love from above. 
 
 The spring will soon pass, and the bloom will be gone, 
 The pleasures of May come but once in the year. 
 
 Fly the swallows away, but will come again, 
 
 Man has only one spring. One only spring here. 
 
 LAHLAH. 
 
 Charming as the full orb'd moon. 
 
 When her argent smiles, the deep blue 
 
 Sky inlays with linings chaste. Bloom, 
 She was of Purity's name. True 
 
 As the wave loan'd light of the sun 
 
 As he sinks, when the day is done 
 
 To rest, was Lahlah ; mild and fair; 
 
 Modest and retiring-. Hfer 
 Young fond heart only beat to share 
 
 The innocence she could confer 
 On others, in the linken chain 
 
 Of love, that knew no sting, or pain. 
 
 She felt that love could not deceive; 
 
 And words meant all the wooer said. 
 'Twould verge on sin not to believe 
 
 The vows that on the heart are laid. 
 When pledges bear them on the wing 
 Of speaking eyes, like bursting spring. 
 
 But like the rose in bower green, 
 
 Which sends its sweetness through the air, 
 To freight the zephyr's wing unseen. 
 
 Was plucked by one of wooings fair; 
 Then on the deep sad ground was thrown. 
 To wither and to die alone. 
 
128 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 ' A LOVE DREAM. 
 
 The day was dying. The soft mellow sun 
 Was sinking to rest in the far-reaching plain; 
 
 And Leah, content with what she had done, 
 In fending the heart from anguish and pain, 
 
 Repaired to her thoral 'mid ivy and rose 
 
 To find a requital in balmy repose. 
 
 The monarch of day soon sank out of sight — 
 
 The limner of nature with aerial dye 
 Had tipped with vermilion the curtain of night, 
 
 And drew it across the deep dorse of the sky. 
 That the stars might look down from their chambers above 
 And pay to the maiden their homage of love. 
 
 All nature was quiet; the twittering birds 
 Had folded their wings for a season of rest; 
 
 The husbandman, weary, returned with his herds — 
 The bees to their hives; the swine to their nest: — 
 
 Not a ripple or voice from the distance was heard; 
 
 No sound broke the stillness; no animal stirr'd. 
 
 Morpheus folded his wings o'er the maid 
 
 And whispered: "Goodnight! Take a short, balmy sleep.'' 
 Sweet flowers ambrosial, around her, he laid 
 
 While zephyrs of even on her rosy cheek. 
 In a sly furtive way imprinted a kiss 
 And left her to doze in the Eden of bliss. 
 
 While Innocence sweet, was thus sleeping alone, 
 
 Secure in the armor of Purity's name. 
 Watched fondly by stars, in her own svlvan wone, 
 
 Albotine, impassioned by love's cruel flame. 
 Obtruded himself on her hours of sleep. 
 And in a soft whisper presumed thus to speak: 
 
 "Pray do not reject my petitions of love, 
 
 Nor chide the devotion that flows from my soul; 
 
 My heart must adore thee. The bright stars above 
 Bear witness of me, that I cannot control. 
 
 The feelings that throb in my bosom for you. 
 
 They throb for 3'ou only, for you, only you." 
 
 Now Leah, half waking, bethought it a dream, 
 
 A kind of love waftings, she'd heard not before; 
 Their thrills were delightful, but false did they seem. 
 
Poems of Leisuj'e. 129 
 
 But wished she their musings would be evermore. 
 The trills of her nerves, the feast of her heart, 
 That these new-born seemings would never depart. 
 
 She wist of those pathose that creep through her veins, 
 And caused her heart centers to flutter and throb; 
 
 Which gave to her senses that grandeur of range, 
 In feelings exquisite she never had had ; 
 
 And caused those warm flashes to over her move, 
 
 Was the spirit of that which is known as love. 
 
 I have loved, she said, and felt the warm glow 
 That endeared to me mother, a sister and friend, 
 
 But from those endearments I never could know, 
 Or feel the sensations that through my nerves send 
 
 That holier thrill; that nameless sensation, 
 
 That something that speaks through ev'ry pulsation. 
 
 It's the nectar of heaven, the wine of the soul, 
 It lives in the heart, and speaks through the eye. 
 
 It blooms on the lips; it's beyond our control; 
 Its fountain is purer and deeper, much lies, 
 
 Than the fathomless ocean, or blue of the sky. 
 
 Deeper than language, thoughts, or even a sigh. 
 
 Love has a language, an address of its own. 
 
 It's familiar to all, in every clime; 
 No one can speak it, yet in every tongue 
 
 Heart talks with heart, in true eloquence sublime. 
 It never was learned, and never forgot, 
 It speaks the strongest when the lips move not. 
 
 It paints up the world like the limner of heaven, 
 It sees winning features in all things around. 
 
 It multiplies beauties — all faults are forgiven, 
 
 It hears naught but music in each wasted sound; 
 
 It softens the heart and nourishes th' mind. 
 
 And makes, the obdurate, both manly and kind. 
 
 Were I the recipient of what I have dreamed. 
 Or could I but hear that sweet wooing again, 
 
 And feel that enrapture, tho' not what it seemed, 
 That e'er springs up from that idle refrain. 
 
 That lies in the chambers of each woman's heart, 
 
 I'd be happy in thinking 'twas Love's counterpart. 
 
 Its promptings are richer. It brings, I am told, 
 To the heart that knows not incontinence coy, 
 
130 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 A pleasure much <j^reater than treasures of <j^old, 
 More sunlight of life, more streamlets of joy, 
 More peace and contentment, more food for the heart. 
 Than the store-house of earth could ever impart. 
 
 It plays with the heart of the kin<if on the throne, 
 
 And gleams from the eyes of the queen in the palace, 
 
 The millionaire knows it, the peasant will own 
 
 It seems, in his bosom, more like, he will tell us. 
 
 The smothered sunbeams neath an o'er pending cloud. 
 
 That wreaths to dissever the folds of its shroud. 
 
 It's stronger and firmer than fillets of steel. 
 Than casements of iron or rivets of brass: 
 
 No fetters can bind it, no power conceal 
 The stream of its joy as it rushes to pass 
 
 To recipient hearts, whose electric fire 
 
 Raises humanity higher and higher. 
 
 But why should I dwell upon passions like these, 
 And dream of the ecstacies Love only knows? 
 
 I've rejected the wine, and taken the lees, 
 My troth I have bound to celibate's vows; 
 
 And promised mvself to the people at large. 
 
 And cannot, to Cupid, my heart make a targe. 
 
 ALBOTINE. 
 
 Stir not your young mind witii the ^■isions of fear. 
 No harm will betide thee, or evil obtrude; 
 
 Oh! spurn not the wooings of him who stands here. 
 With a heart brimming full of love's beatitude. 
 
 When in rapport with you, in the onflovving stream. 
 
 Where love knits a web in the bosom serene. 
 
 The soft, mellow breeze from Motebo's fair brow. 
 Will kiss the sweet smiles that plav on vour face. 
 
 Shall mirror your form as Ouwacha we row. 
 
 And ken the clear wavelets that each other chase; 
 
 And when we are wearied of pleasures like these, 
 
 We'll weave of the roses a palace to please. 
 
 I am the chief of the Mezitine band, 
 
 My trail is the wilds of the forests and mead. 
 
 The luxuries of life came at mv command; 
 My name is enshrin'd in the life that I lead; 
 
 To honor I owe the impulse of the brave 
 
 .\nd glorv is wrote on the ilash of mv glave. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 131 
 
 My sceptre is power, my word is supreme, 
 
 The sign of my prowess, I glim in the sk}', 
 The wave of my hand rules my fellows unseen, 
 
 And victory smiles at the flash of my eye. 
 My treasury vaults with bright gold are replete, 
 I lay with a heart full of love at your feet. 
 
 LEAH. 
 
 Your ravishing words quite bewilder my mind, 
 And make me a waif on the billows of doubt; 
 
 A bark, on the ocean of destiny, mine, 
 
 With my haven obscured on th' whether bound route 
 
 And my heart as a captive led on by the dreams, 
 
 Of the glistening show of portentous extremes. 
 
 The glory you paint in your silver-tipped words, 
 Come wrapped in a gild of uncertain import; 
 
 They bear me along in their glow to the verge, 
 Where pledges are cast in shadows of doubt — 
 
 I wist not to reign in a palace a queen, 
 
 Unless in that palace Love reigneth supreme. 
 
 The heart of a maiden, when true as its own, 
 Is dead to the glare of mere ghtter and show. 
 
 No proffers of station, or smiles it would own, 
 Are equal the boon of th' gush and the flow; 
 
 That came from the soul in response to a train 
 
 Full-freighted with love from a true hearted swain. 
 
 The heart is not won by great glitter and show. 
 Though money too often will purchase a bride. 
 
 But when she is bought, with the treasures that flow, 
 At her bidding, it only stimulates pride, 
 
 Her heart is uncaptured, her loves reigns supreme 
 
 In the heart of another. Thus ended the dream. 
 
132 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 The low winds chant to-night, my dear, 
 
 A requiem of the past; 
 Like funeral notes, enthrall the ear, 
 
 As they ride on the blast. 
 I sit me here alone ; 
 Chilly and cold and dark without. 
 
 The clouds are gathering fast. 
 What shrouds of gloom that time has wrought 
 
 Within our fleeting past ! 
 I sit me down and moan. 
 
 When Love's fond dream infused our breast. 
 
 And Hope's familiar gaze 
 Had calmed the hour of midnight rest. 
 
 And glow of happ}^ days 
 
 Beamed on our tranquil mind. 
 The future then in sheen display, 
 
 Unfurled her crescent folds. 
 And sable night was turned to da}', 
 
 As Time displayed his roles 
 Of pleasure undefined. 
 
 How little then we thought of life, 
 
 Of that broad, rushing stream, 
 Which bears us on 'mid cares and strife. 
 
 Resistless, it would seem. 
 
 To some dark, dreaded fate; 
 Our lives away, glide on and on, 
 
 Like Time, his trackless course. 
 Forever bears in measured throng, 
 
 His own receding course, 
 And we may need but wait. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 133 
 
 TIME. 
 
 Time withereth the forest leaves, 
 The oak its loft}^ head reclines, 
 And falls its trunk, and sinks to earth; 
 The dahlia buds, blooms and fades. 
 The oceans surge, their waters go, 
 The mountains crumble and decay, 
 Rocks, rivers, lakes stay but a time. 
 
 Then by Nature's fiat decay. 
 
 All things celestial and terene 
 
 Shall pass before the monarch of Time 
 
 And bow to his impressive will. 
 
 I Written in contradiction of a Rev. Bigot, who asserted that there was no 
 relioion in The Brotherhood.] 
 
 And no religion thou hast said. 
 
 In bitterness of mind, 
 Can come from noble acts and deeds 
 
 Which in fraternity we find ; 
 No religion where friendship lives. 
 
 Where truth is held most dear, 
 Where love abides with charity; 
 
 Where is it, then. Oh ! where? 
 
 We seek the widow in her grief. 
 
 And dry the tears up there; 
 We clothe the orphans in our charge. 
 
 And hunger drive from there ; 
 The anguish of a brother sick, 
 
 We feel, and with him share. 
 And yet you tell us in cold words, 
 
 Religion is not there. 
 
 In all the varied walks of life. 
 
 Our acts we circumscribe; 
 In social glee, in business strife. 
 
 Excesses are denied. 
 To fit man for his sphere as such 
 
 Is our great aim and care ; 
 And yet you tell us in your wrath, 
 
 Relicrion is not there. 
 
134 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Then where, among the scenes of eartli 
 
 Is your religion found. 
 Secluded in some structure made 
 
 To worship God by sound? 
 Oh, no! my friends, vain, empt}'^ words 
 
 Will never catch His ear; 
 Though you may pray both loud and long 
 
 It is not there, not there. 
 
 You compass both the land and sea 
 
 To make one proselyte,* 
 And when he's made, he's nearer hell 
 
 Than when you gave him light. 
 You build for God a gorgeous house 
 
 And vend the gospel there ; 
 The rich go in, the poor pass on. 
 
 Religion is not there. 
 
 Religion dwells where love abounds, 
 
 Where friendship never dies. 
 Where neighbor feels a neighbor's pain 
 
 Through pure fraternal ties. 
 God smiles upon the golden chain 
 
 Which links men near and far 
 In one great work of mutual aid, 
 
 He's with such evervwhere. 
 
 Then hail, all hail The Brotherhood^ 
 
 Your mission fill — go on, 
 Press forward in your noble work,, 
 
 Though vaunting bigots frown; , 
 Press on! press on and falter not; 
 
 Proclaim it everywhere ; 
 Let every tongue and kindred know 
 
 Religion dwelleth here. 
 
 *NoTE. — "For ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when 
 he is made, ye make him two-fold more the child of hell than yourselves.'" — 
 Matthew xxii, 15. 
 
Poems of Leisure.' 135 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 There liveth a jewel more precious than gold, 
 
 More precious than diamonds from Africa's field, 
 
 Which brighter appears as the wearer grows old, 
 Protecting the breast as an armor and shield. 
 
 When th' shadow of Time as the mantle of night, 
 In silence approaches, performing its task, 
 
 Then welcomed the future will be with delight. 
 The wearer will have no regrets of the past. 
 
 It softens the heart and it brightens the eye, 
 
 Enchases the cheeks with sweet Innocence's bloom. 
 
 It wards from the breast the sharp sting of a sigh 
 And keepeth the mind from the trammels of gloom. 
 
 It honors the brow of both manhood and age, 
 And shieldeth from evil the footsteps of youth ; 
 
 Enriches the mind of both statesman and sage. 
 Who foster with care this bright jewel of Truth. 
 
 AWAKE ! MY HEART. 
 
 Awake ! my heart, within thy tented bower. 
 And tune thy notes to cheer this lonely hour, 
 
 And drive my cares away; 
 Too long thou hast already slept, and whiled 
 Away the sluggish hours, while Fancy smiled 
 
 Unmindful on her way 
 
 Adown the burnished bay, 
 Which lies afar without the vision bright, 
 And quite illumes the dusky folds of night, 
 
 To smile on bursting day. 
 
 Awake ! my heart, and view the rushing throng, 
 Which animates the tide of life along, 
 
 And cheers us on our course, 
 And becks us to a something undefined 
 Which we know not, nor care to cast behind 
 
 With Time's receding force. 
 
 Or view its prostrate corse ; 
 We rather bend to that chaotic state 
 Forward, which the senses infatuate 
 
 And leads us to remorse. 
 
136 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Awake ! my heart, my thoughts delusive lead, 
 The past is gone, the now 1 do not heed, 
 
 But leer to Fancy's wills; 
 The woe of others should my soul impress. 
 And heed as wise the voice of distress — 
 
 That woe the bosom tills. 
 
 The heart with sorrow chills; 
 And leaves a wound, which Anguish will display. 
 And by its shadows dims the hopes of day — 
 
 The fondest jo}- kills. 
 
 Awake I my heart, and join the tuneful lay: 
 A cheerful smile will drive the cloud away 
 
 And dissipate its frown; 
 The dregs of sorrow coil around the soul 
 And leave a bane which grow beyond control. 
 
 And weigh the spirit down, 
 
 And weave a baleful ijown 
 Whose folds enwrap the mind with subtle coy, 
 First animates and then with ease destroy 
 
 The gleam of pleasure sown. 
 
 Awake! my heart, and grasp the passing scenes. 
 An earnest life contains no empty dreams, 
 
 But moves full freighted on ; 
 Man's anguish the world professes to feel. 
 But man well guardeth first his private weal. 
 
 Which aids him in the throng 
 
 Of busy life along, 
 Which casts him on the shoaled shore, 
 Which lies unseen just on before 
 
 Where other cares prolong. 
 
 Awake ! my heart, and view the onward press. 
 Ambition's goal, the mother of distress 
 
 Is surging in the strife. 
 And Pride a jealous pennon vaunts. 
 And heeding not man's needful wants. 
 
 O'er burdens him in life, 
 
 Makes his existence rife 
 With anxious thoughts of empty powers 
 Which haunt as ghosts his waning hours. 
 
 Eludes his grasp through life. 
 
Poems of Leisure, 137 
 
 DESTINY, 
 
 Man sows in anguish, reaps in tears, 
 And walks in sorrow to the tomb; 
 
 He feels the weight of pending years. 
 And all their ills before they come. 
 
 War, pestilence, famine, disease. 
 In turn threaten and assail him; 
 
 When one recedes, another comes. 
 
 Which makes his life a troubled scene. 
 
 Where'er he looks, which way he goes. 
 The dreadful mien of woe is there, 
 
 Which makes the past, dark as it was, , 
 A heaven to his present care. 
 
 The present is too fleet for him, 
 Too short to start or end a task ; 
 
 He feasts his mind on future hopes. 
 Or gnaws the dead bones of the past. 
 
 The sunbeam of illusive hope 
 
 With furtive glances tolls him on. 
 
 He works, suffers and endures, 
 
 And learns at last the prize is gone. 
 
 When life is through, one backward glance 
 Would prove his life a total wreck. 
 
 He had but trouble while he lived, 
 
 He came from dust, to dust goes dack. 
 
 MY WILL. 
 
 This world, I will to all my heirs, 
 
 In common they may use it. 
 I give it with the conscious hope 
 
 That they won't spend or lose it. 
 
 The seas, the oceans and the lakes, 
 
 The brooks and streams that feed them, 
 
 Shall yield unto my heirs, their fish, 
 If they will go and catch them. 
 
 If they will strive with all their might, 
 Both in sunshine and in rain, 
 
i^i^ J^oenis oj Leisure. 
 
 The earth will yii'ltl lo Ihcin Iut fruits, 
 llor herbs, and Ium- ooUKmi ^raiii. 
 
 ICaeh oiu' inaN' ha\H' a cosn' house, 
 WMth parlor ami a kitelu'ii, 
 
 A pio-, a ^^ardiMi, ami a cow. 
 It tlu'v will work ami ^et them. 
 
 One (hiuo iiioic I will bestow. 
 While ill the mood ot ^iviiijj^, 
 
 1 will that all my leoait«os 
 May make an honest lixini;". 
 
 And now I make this last bequest, 
 A need, 1 teel most pressing-. 
 
 As I have nothin<r more to ii\\c, 
 ril leave with them m\' bU-ssini;. 
 
 'riiic riiAN'roisi. 
 
 As oatherino darkness hovers "lound. 
 
 And clothes the scene in shades of gloom. 
 
 Without an usher or a soinid. 
 
 Then glitles the Phantom in tlu' room. 
 
 llis toiin detined as w lu-re he stands. 
 His eyes seem cold and cheerless. 
 
 He waves his long and bony hands 
 Within the waste of stillness. 
 
 lie moves about in easy grace. 
 And riiles upon the fh)ating air, 
 
 1 le turns aghast his wistful face 
 In circles waves his jetty hair. 
 
 He strtikes his beard in deep concern. 
 And points his lingers to the tloor. 
 
 Ami slowly then he moves in turn 
 To vanish through the bolted door. 
 
Poems of Lcii^urc. i ^^9 
 
 SILENCK. 
 
 'riicri' is ;i day coming wliosc sih-iuc I weep — 
 Will come ill ^raiul spltMidor lo lind me asleep — 
 A day tilled with JMislle, vvilli sorrow and Inn, 
 Alter my pleasuri's and my i^ourse I have run. 
 The world will he joylid, sorrowlid, sad, 
 Atid heuf.l lo the liiture all hiisslul and ^lad, 
 To leave in the distance the lunv with the past, 
 Too Meet in its transit to tarry or last, 
 Hut whei-led to the rear in mi'asures deliruul, 
 l^'or the nozv which ;^lidi's with time (juit:kly behind, 
 Will leave in its place the sanie rattle and roar 
 That always have marked the days ol before. 
 Whose humming ol business and hurr^' will kee|), 
 While I in my chamber in silence will sleep; 
 And thus will reposi; while tempests are twirled, 
 Umnoved by the sorrows or cares ol the world. 
 As others take pleasure, at travails may weep, 
 I will, in (juic;tudi', slumber and slee|>; 
 While otIuM's conttMid and apply their caprice, 
 I will reposi! in deep, deep silence and peace. 
 Though now I am vicMU^ and pressing the race. 
 But soon I will yield and to others ^ive place, 
 Who will, in their turn, their turmoils and strife 
 Pass (juickly the days Time allotted to life; 
 And tlius presseth man on, on to the end 
 Without comprehending why he should contend. 
 And thus passeth man to that on-pc;ndin^ dec^p, 
 Whercr he, too, in silence and slumber shall sleep. 
 The storm winds may madden the ocean and wave; 
 The battU; \\\ thunder may silence the brave; 
 And pain — rc;ekinjr pain — may rive the sad breast; 
 All men in their time will pass on to their rest, 
 And th(;re with the a^es who pressed in the throng, 
 \\\ silence remain as the world passeth on. 
 
i^o Poems of Leisure. 
 
 TO LENA. 
 
 Dear Lena, come hence from 3-our play, 
 
 Come hence from your pleasures of life. 
 Give heed, my sweet darling, to what I may say; 
 Your heart is as pure and spirit as lithe. 
 And true as the lone, cooing dove. 
 
 The soft, trilling notes of your song, 
 
 The glow of your mild, azure eyes. 
 Accord in their innocent wiles to prolong. 
 Those joys which pleasurable thoughts improvise 
 Direct from the fountain of love. 
 
 The world appears true to you now, 
 
 And all, you think, are as they seem; 
 No troubles have furrowed your young, placid brow. 
 And crosses appear, as the sprite of a dream, 
 As something unreal and false; 
 
 Truth enwrapt you see in all things, 
 
 And verity smiles ever there. 
 Sincerity comes on credulity's wings. 
 Impressing the features of truth everywhere; 
 Your heart at deception revolts. 
 
 Your laugh is the guerdon of youth. 
 
 Alternate your tears and your smiles; 
 Sweet innocence clad in the kirtle of truth, 
 As shown in your pranks, as in your childish wiles. 
 True nature appears in your plays. 
 
 You believe your pleasures will last 
 
 As long as your life shall remain. 
 That sorrow is transient, has fled with the past. 
 Shall be no more known, except in the name, 
 Consigned to the back fleeting days. 
 
 I wist that your musings were true — 
 
 As true as your confiding heart — 
 That sorrow and trouble. have passed their race through, 
 And left in their traces Sincerity's chart. 
 
 To guide you in Time's pressing strife. 
 
 Troubles have passed ! No, darling child; 
 
 They wane to deceive and ensnare you. 
 As time flits her wing on the passage that while. 
 The days of your ^-outh and your innocence through 
 Will bring you sad lessons of life, 
 
Poems of Leisure. 141 
 
 Lessons now you cannot perceive, 
 
 Could not divine them if you would; 
 That faces are false, dear, you would not believe. 
 That smiles are deceptive, hearts cold, if you could, 
 Nor would you such life have revealed. 
 
 Things, as they are, scarce ever seem not; 
 
 The heart often smothers its fires ; 
 Language is used for the concealment of thought, 
 And not to express the real desires 
 
 That lay in the bosom concealed. 
 
 Gay pleasures with time pass away. 
 
 While troubles redouble their course ; 
 One loses its station as day follows day. 
 Increases the other in volume and force. 
 As life wanes along in its strife, 
 
 You often will look for the true — 
 
 The facts of your childhood and youth — 
 Contrasting th' changes behind and before you, 
 Those dark crowning falsehoods once taken for truth 
 Will chill then, and shadow your life. 
 
 Your burden will oft times seem great. 
 
 Your path will be rugged and steep. 
 May wish for relief from your cares and their weight, 
 And pray for the rest of that long-lasting sleep 
 Where joys and pleasures are given. 
 
 My child, now heed what I say; 
 
 This lesson impress on your mind: 
 Be true to yourself, as day follows day 
 Cast all the fanatics and bigots behind, 
 
 And keep your eye steady on heaven. 
 
 AN EPIGRAM. 
 
 Why languish in trouble as time flits away? 
 
 Prepare for to-morrow, but live for to-day; 
 
 To-day is upon us, yesterday has fled. 
 
 To-morrow is always just one day ahead; 
 
 Whose wayfaring blandishments beckon us on, 
 
 And burden the present with bustle and throng. 
 
 Drink not from the past, then, the dread dregs of sorrow, 
 
 Nor anguish the soul with the shades of the morrow; 
 
 But rather act well the great now as it rolls ; 
 
 'Tis all man possesses or ever controls. 
 
14- Poems of Leisure. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 True friendship, like the evergreen. 
 When summer bloom has passed, 
 
 Will still retain the flush of spring. 
 Through autumn's chilly blast. 
 
 And when the winter's sky shall lower 
 With clouds obscure the day, 
 
 It still retains its vernal power, 
 Unconscious of deca3^ 
 
 LOQUILLIN. 
 
 As matin songs from merry birds 
 Rose trilling soft and sweet, 
 
 Loquillin sought his daily work, 
 And left his child asleep. 
 
 Intrusted to a stran<jer's care. 
 
 In pride, Loquillin vaunts 
 His happ}^ lot; as working hard 
 
 To meet his family wants, 
 
 He toiled for days with cheerful heart. 
 And took his guerdon home ; 
 
 But found, when he had entered in. 
 That he was all alone. 
 
 He sought the thoral of his babe 
 
 And found it was unfilled. 
 A stream of horror crossed his mind, 
 
 His heart with anguish thrilled. 
 
 He flew then to the matted trees, 
 To scan their shaded throng. 
 
 He called aloud, "Oh ! Mena, where?" 
 But echo answered — gone. 
 
 With heavy heart he turned within. 
 
 His cot seemed like a tomb, 
 His footsteps echoed through the hall, 
 
 The sun brought shades of gloom. 
 
 The walls were nude of household gods. 
 That cheered his heart so long. 
 
 He sought the picture of his babe,, 
 To learn that that was gone. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 143 
 
 The grass was growing in the path, 
 
 The sward by growth defiled ; 
 He looked in vain to see a track, 
 
 The footprints of his child. 
 
 Neglect was frowning all around, 
 
 His cat seemed shy and wild. 
 The brood that picked crumbs from her hand. 
 
 Had also missed the child. 
 
 He looked aghast in wistful hope 
 
 And list the breezes mild 
 That wont to waft in days of yore, 
 
 The laugh of playful child. 
 
 That bore upon its bosom light 
 
 Her gleeful notes that whiled 
 The tardy stream of time away. 
 
 Made i3lithesome by his child. 
 
 He asked the sward of emerald hue, 
 
 Where oft in gambols wild, 
 In sportive glee she tripped its face — 
 
 "If it knew of his child." 
 
 "I knew her little lithesome form; 
 
 A fairy, by us styled, 
 For days she has not been with us — 
 
 I know not of your child." 
 
 A wistful ken he cast about. 
 
 In truth the osier smiled. 
 And told him by its drooping plume, 
 
 "In vain look for your child." 
 
 With bleeding heart Loquillin moaned. 
 
 With eyeballs glaring wild, 
 "Come, robber, take all else I have, 
 
 But leave, oh ! leave my child." 
 
 "The storm-winds rend the mighty oak. 
 
 Make trackless ocean roiled. 
 But greater moves the parent heart. 
 
 When it has lost a child." 
 
 "Oh! Robber," was LoquilHn's cry, 
 "Why was your heart beguiled? 
 
144 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Why entered thou my happy home 
 To rob me of my chiltl?" 
 
 Time roUi'd its weary length ah)n^". 
 
 The ehikl ^rcw to a maitl, 
 With miiul relluent on her home. 
 
 The cot where tirsl she phiyeil. 
 
 They came to her with all the zest 
 
 That wins a childish ken. 
 That moves the heart with hurninn wish 
 
 To see them smile attain. 
 
 She found them, but not as whilom, 
 Her cat and playthinj^s j^'one ; 
 
 C\)ld stranj^ers had possessed her home 
 While she was ^one so Ioiil;;. 
 
 Now, other children claimed her place. 
 
 Her father, where was he? 
 She saw instead, a strange oKl man. 
 
 Delighted at their oloe. 
 
 She lingered at the curlilaj^e. 
 
 With heavy heart and e'e — 
 She lisped, as tears stole down her cheeks, 
 
 "Where, father, can you be?" 
 
 "My father bore a nobU' nu'in. 
 
 Me owned an humble cot. 
 I was so vouni;' when stole a\\a\', 
 
 llis nami> I hax'e for<4;ot." 
 
 "The when \\\\ father owtied the cot 
 
 I cannot rightl}' tell. 
 The litchen j^revv in wild profuse, 
 
 A tree o'erlooked the well." 
 
 "My dreams are of those happy ilays — 
 Those davs replete with »»lee 
 
 When love beams shot from father's eyes, 
 As I sat on his knee. " 
 
 The children at each cUher glanceil. 
 And asked, "Who can this be. 
 
 Who calls in such a mmnnful strain, 
 'My father, where is he?' " 
 
Poems of Leisure. 145 
 
 "She wears a sad and wasted form, 
 Her eyes have lost their glow; 
 
 Is she the child of that old man 
 Whose locks are like the snow?" 
 
 "With hoary mien and vigil keen, 
 
 Is always on the go; 
 He walks in sleep the forest deep, 
 
 And wanders to and fro." 
 
 *'My father planted out that tree, 
 
 He brought it in his hand. 
 And now its long boughs shelter thee, 
 
 While I a stranger stand." 
 
 "Where, tell me, can my father be, 
 
 Is he not here? and why? 
 Oh! let me see him ere I leave, — 
 
 The world seems whizzing by." 
 
 "There is a quaint old crazy man," 
 The children, one replied, 
 
 "Who walks the forest and the glen, 
 And up the mountain side." 
 
 "He sighs a deep and solemn moan, 
 We've heard the people say; 
 
 He never sits, he never lies — 
 He walks both night and day." 
 
 The sun ascends the archy way 
 And noon-time marks the hour, 
 
 Emerges then Loquillin old, 
 From out his forest bower. 
 
 With feeble steps, but will amain, 
 
 And feelings unbeguiled, 
 Each day, at twelve, he wanders here 
 
 And searches for his child. 
 
 The hour, now, is almost here; 
 
 A moment more, and see 
 The old man struggle in his task 
 
 To reach the fabled tree. 
 
 Loquillin and the maiden met, 
 Each caught the other's eye; 
 
146 Poems of Leistwe, 
 
 " My father !" "Oh, my child!' said he, 
 "rm ready now now to die." 
 
 A snow-white pigeon took them up, 
 A nimbus round them coiled, 
 
 I saw them pass the azure vault. 
 The father and his child. 
 
 RUNA LANIER,— THE FATE OF A WITCH. 
 
 In that dim olden time, that we know well enough, 
 
 When thoughts became crimes, if made beyond rules. 
 And the people would sneeze when the parson took snuff. 
 
 And sin it was made to have secular schools, 
 When witches and wizards and devils were here; 
 
 And hell just below if a man disbelieves ; 
 
 With heaven above for the foolish at shrieves, 
 There lived in Glendoven, Miss Runa Lanier. 
 
 Miss Runa's ambition subverted her heart. 
 And placed her mind under satanic control, 
 
 From whom she desired to learn the black art, 
 For which she agreed to surrender her soul 
 
 To the uses of sin, and the devil as well. 
 
 To serve them through life; to obey and believe 
 At the juncture of death without hope of reprieve ; 
 
 She agreed to submit to the scorchings of hell. 
 
 On those were the terms that the devil made witches, 
 
 And Runa submitted to all of the rules, 
 And receiv'd from his honor a wand and switches, 
 
 Like Moses' rod, once believed by the fools, 
 And when she would wave them and give the command, 
 
 The wish'd thing would come forth, be it evil or good, 
 
 And obey her desire whatever she would ; 
 As long as she held to the magical wand. 
 
 One wave of her wand and will of her mind, 
 
 Would people the forest with bright plumag'd birds; 
 
 Would fill the clear water with fish of all kind 
 And batten the plain with sleek-looking herds; 
 
 She would draw from the rivers, the sportive naiads, 
 And fairies from out the deep forests of gloom, 
 Which she would disport on the breath of a bloom, 
 
 And while away time at the glee of her maids. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 147 
 
 At times she would loll on the face of the wind, 
 
 Or sit on a long pendant bow of a tree. 
 With clouds hov'ring over as though they were pinn'd, — 
 
 Birds vieing with birds in sweet melody; 
 Bloom 'd flowers of sweetness with colors most gay. 
 
 To requite her desire of pleasure refin'd 
 
 And quiet the fret of her wildering mind. 
 By pleasing her ken with their vari'd display. 
 
 These pleasures in time grew transient and old, 
 
 And Runa would wish for a more pleasant change ; 
 She would long for a smile not so formal and cold. 
 
 As those that had come through impersonal range — 
 She wanted to bask in the florag-e of bliss 
 
 With actual arms encumbering her waist; 
 
 With words of warm love to the flow of her taste, 
 In place of the wiles of Inanity's kiss. 
 
 As want to her wishes, a youth sauntered by, 
 In manly demeanor and favored in looks. 
 
 In askance he leered, by a glimpse of the eye. 
 
 Her form lovely he saw by a sheen winding brook 
 
 Which crept over sand and bright pebble-formed bed. 
 As kissing the feet of soft swards as it passes, 
 Neat garland in flowers and matting of grasses. 
 
 Well hid from the sun with neat bows overhead. 
 
 She lisped not a word, but spoke with her eyes, 
 And bade the fond youth to abide in the shade. 
 
 He came; she was glad, and 3^et feigned a surprise 
 That he should invade the thoral of a maid. 
 
 Excuses he stammered and vowed it by chance. 
 He came where a being so charming and fair 
 As she, as reclined on a moss-covered lair, 
 
 Where dahlias and daisies smiled Cupid's defense. 
 
 I chide not such blunders, she modesty smiled, 
 As a neat, artful blush appeared on her face, 
 
 Suflicient to give her the cast of a child, 
 
 Who knows but that modesty nature would grace ; 
 
 Runa Lanier knew full well how to act 
 
 The charming beguiles of a trained maiden's art 
 Which neither seems cold nor too warm at the start, 
 
 Not yielding, yet yielded, to Cupid's attack. 
 
 Dispensed with the use of her long magic wand, 
 No transfigured lips with impassionate kiss, 
 
148 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Or false formed conception could fill the demand, 
 She'd yield all the fairies for love's passioned bliss; 
 
 She willed not gay phantoms or visits from pan, 
 The pleasures of fancy had cloved her taste. 
 Gay birds and sweet flowers seem'd but a bare waste. 
 
 Her eye saw no beauty except in a man. 
 
 A hint from Temerity caused him to halt. 
 Then Wonder asserted a dominant sway; 
 
 'Twixt fear and desire his mind seemed to vault, 
 In query he stammered, pLM-plexed what to say 
 
 Or do, as the allurintj;- smiles of beautv 
 
 Were stirring his blood and dethroning his senses, 
 x^bandoni'd had Keason its wonted defenses, 
 
 Leaving him poised betwixt pleasure and duty. 
 
 RUNA. 
 
 ''Come, tarry with me in this sylvan retreat 
 
 And list at the mild, plaintive notes of the dove. 
 
 And brooklet's soft cadence, whose murmur is sweet. 
 And sip at the fount of the pleasures of love: 
 
 Learn wisdom from birds which doff here all their cares. 
 And revel uncurbed in the streamlet of bliss 
 Where pledges of pleasure are sealed with a kiss. 
 
 And Love finds a mate and definitive pairs. 
 
 List at the mellow entones of birds' cooing. 
 Their warbling songs from neat aeries above; 
 
 Take lessons from them in the pleasures of wooing, 
 Empassion the heart wnth the measures of love. 
 
 Philosophy cant on Inanity's breast; 
 
 Let Reverie float on the face of the breeze, 
 As Logic's cold reason thy being will freeze, 
 
 Let Love have dominion — thou<jh heed its behest." 
 
 He could not opine, well, what others might do. 
 
 If fortune should favor, a deep woodland shade, 
 A bower well thatched and protected from view; 
 
 Invited to linger alone with a maid 
 And whisper the breathings of love should it suit. 
 
 With ecstacy float on the face of a dream 
 
 And live in her love, should he fancv the same, 
 lie stood in her presence confounded and mute. 
 
 RUNA. 
 
 "'What omens of evil now rush through your mind. 
 What iceberg of woe has congealed 3'our heart veins-; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 149 
 
 l<\)ri>i't lor tlu- pri'SfiU, leave liouhK's bchiiul, 
 '!%) tlu- receding past roiisi^u tlu-ii" remains, 
 
 Lt'l Ihem l)e iniim-r^i'cl in the daik wonil-) ol Time; 
 Thou live in the present, thus time is allotted, 
 The future before is, the past has di'parted, 
 
 Thou ^"i\'e thv'st'lf over to pK-asuics in lini'." 
 
 "The poi'l may sin^^ of the 'Pleasures of Hope,' 1 
 Allmle to the future well storied in bliss, 
 
 May license the mind with poetical scope, 
 Yet Fancy will leer to a well-rounded kiss, 
 
 When lips bourul to lips with the ^reetinj^s of eyes. 
 And heart throbs with heart as thou<^h melted in one, 
 When ecstacy seizes such mazes of Inn, 
 
 Who'd t|uit to chase phasmas or time as it Hies? 
 
 The stri'amlet oi bliss cannot How, said the youth, 
 
 If the heart be saddened by sorrow and ^rief, 
 "The casket of love, likt" the fountain of truth. 
 
 Can onl}' seem pure wlien infused with belief. 
 A jewel when tarnished with foreij^n alloy. 
 
 Lose cast with the classes to which it belongs; 
 
 When ho|)e is be^irded by woe-matted thongs, 
 "The heart cannot lly to the regions of joy. 
 
 'I'he glow of thy speech clothes love in ni-at lashion. 
 Thy terms in sweet cadence embellish her well, 
 
 You make her appear the goddess of fashion. 
 Dethroning the judgment, enchanting i)y spell 
 
 "The heart and the miiul, bi'wildered together; 
 Transported they seen) to the mazes of bliss 
 To learn as they journey a lesson in this, 
 
 That love is one thing and |)assion another. 
 
 At the shriue of continence I bow, said he, 
 I bask in her sinik;s as my favoriti' dame. 
 
 When wrapped in her mantle of purity free, 
 I feel not the sad poignant presence of shame, 
 
 I bare not my breast to sensual desires, 
 
 No raptures of pleasure, so Meet on its wing. 
 Beguiling to faiu-y, shall leave me the sting. 
 
 That virtue came smiling, but weeping retires. 
 
 The damsel who yields to her lover her charms. 
 Surrenders the right to a true maiden's name, 
 Ere wedlock enshrines her within its strong arms, 
 
150 I^ocms of Incisure. 
 
 Or feels not the flow of continence's flame, 
 Will leave her betrothed for Ameret's embrace, 
 And forfeit her claims to that holy tie. 
 With conditions propitious she often wil hie 
 'I'o pleasures illicit, not heeding the trace. 
 
 The j->urer the mind is the stronoer the love. 
 It oladdens the heart with emotions anew, 
 
 Persuasive and gentle as the plaintive dove, 
 Or kisses on flowers by crystaline dew. 
 
 The mother bends over lu'r iimocent babe. 
 And dotes on the infantile smiles of her son^ 
 Two hearts in sweet union, in sympathy one, 
 
 l\vo souls dved in colors which never can fade. 
 
 When heart thrills with heart in true sympathy's chord. 
 
 The jileasure of one is the wish of the other; 
 When pain rives the breast of the other at word, 
 
 When eyes cannot veil their anguish, or smother 
 The feelings of grief, which envelop the two 
 
 At the woe of the one, or glow at the turn, 
 
 As kindness is trilled on the feelings that burn 
 With enraptured love flames, sucii only are true. 
 
 It curbs the desire, it softens the heart. 
 
 At Continent's shrine a true worship is paid. 
 
 Though fortune may frown and old friends may depart. 
 Youth lose its vivacity, beauty may fade. 
 
 Yet Love's true emotions will never g-row old. 
 Its flow never ceases, its source never ^ry. 
 It blesses the heart and it brightens the eye, 
 
 While passion soon wanes, becomes weary and cold. 
 
 I will now hie to my fastness again, 
 
 In the dense tangled copse-land on mountain, I crave, 
 From whose hoarv brow may ken the brand plain 
 
 Or bend on sheen runnels andth' deep, yawning cave. 
 Or muse at the edge of a cool, placid mere. 
 
 Where cluster, like plexus, the bough and the vine. 
 
 And smiling beneath is the gay eglantine, 
 Wliile Mavis enchants with sweet song the dull ear. 
 
 1 tind only love in mv own mountain home. 
 My heart is betrothed to its copse and the ern, 
 
 I love their grand beauty, my sweet sylvan wone. 
 Where deep-shaded grottos and soft, waving fern 
 
Poems of Leisure. 151 
 
 Lend charms to the scenes of my Alpine retreat, 
 Where osiers o'erdrooping the waters that gleam 
 As they glide to the mere in a rippling stream, 
 
 The roebuck to welcome, the heron to greet, 
 
 SING. 
 
 I love my grand old mountain home, 
 I love its breath, I love its looks, 
 
 The bloom that smiles on it alone 
 I love as do I love its brooks. 
 
 The rocks that rib its furrowed sides, 
 I love them for their noble state, 
 
 As well the rill which down it glides, 
 The streams neat kirtled at its feet. 
 
 The trees that shade its aged brow. 
 
 Which sheltered me when but a youth, 
 
 I loved them then as do I now, 
 I love its gray and rocky roof. 
 
 I love its moan in breezes high, 
 
 I love it when the storm winds blow, 
 
 I love from it to ken the sky, 
 
 Which kisses meadlands far below. 
 
 The oreole I love to hear. 
 
 And see the roebuck on the bound ; 
 
 I love the blythe and nimble deer, 
 I love to hear the larum sound. 
 
 The chase delights m}'^ heart as well, 
 The bugle and the scented pack, 
 
 As coursing through the copse and dell. 
 As fly the hounds on heated track. 
 
 The eagle plants her aerie high. 
 
 To catch the glimpse of morning sun, 
 
 Who paints its streamlets on the sky 
 In golden shreds so deftly spun. 
 
 I love it for itself alone, 
 
 I love its glens, its gorges deep, 
 
 I love my grand old mountain home. 
 In sweet repose there let me sleep. 
 
152 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 RUNA. 
 
 "That mountain home you love so well, 
 That placid mere, that quiet dell, 
 That kirtlini; heath upon its sides, 
 A recluse where Ring Ou<i;el hides, 
 The espaliers of wood-boughs made. 
 The cascades and the esplanade, 
 The canons deep, the purling rilLs, 
 The cool retreats, the rising hills. 
 The foliage of the scented thyme, 
 The blooms that grace the eglantine. 
 The tarn whose water sparkles, gleams, 
 Those cool, those clear and trenning streams, 
 Which trenkle, leap, twirl and spout. 
 The playful haunts of sportive trout. 
 Where mountain elfs would wont abide, 
 And angle in their pearly tide. 
 The Alpine breeze that listeth there, 
 To health inspire the mountain air, 
 The lofty peaks, projecting rocks. 
 The site from which Angora looks. 
 And shakes his head, in proud disdain. 
 At lowing herds upon the plain. 
 Thou amaret of mountain scenes. 
 Those lofty peaks, those pearly streams, 
 Enchantment of a place elfin, 
 Worhiped as thy mountain shrine, 
 Now trembling 'neath a witches spell, 
 Bid them a long, a last farewell, 
 A wistful o-lance, a last fond look. 
 Thou augur from the sable rook, 
 Whose solo on the breezes roll, 
 Precursinjr anouish to thy soul — 
 ^ List thou, the linnet's ringing note, 
 
 Those gifts of nature learned by rote. 
 
 The carols sweet of other's song. 
 
 Whose dulcet notes its strains prolong, 
 
 As vaulting echoes faintly ring. 
 
 Trilling softly on the wing. 
 
 They sound the requiem solemn knell. 
 
 Where all thy terene pleasures dwell, 
 
 Bv this wand's enchanted well 
 
 I iuirl you all to seething hell." 
 
 With warding vengeance at his hand. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 
 
 153 
 
 lie plucked, e'er thought the waving waiul, 
 And by a stroke and word, ^'■ali vis,"" 
 He said, "Begone, beguiling miss, 
 "Pis tny coniniand to master this." 
 y\nd e'er her wish had lost its spell, 
 He sent the witch headlonji; to hell. 
 
154 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 LAURINE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Beneath the pendant boughs of a 
 
 Brave old oak, on whose branches hiy 
 
 Memories hushed of centuries gone ; 
 
 Might have been seen of late years long, 
 
 As the sun was sending a last 
 
 Kiss of departing day, the cast 
 
 Of a wizard, or mystic saint, 
 
 In the personage of a quaint 
 
 Old man, whom the people called craz'd. 
 
 In the rear of the old tree rais'd 
 
 A tumulus, a man-made mountain (i ) 
 
 Tomb of the dead, a grand fountain 
 
 Of rare knowledge. Beyond the mound. 
 
 Not distant far, may yet be found, 
 
 Beside a laughing brook, his hut 
 
 Of birchen tree.' The wild nut. 
 
 With now and then a dainty taste 
 
 Of herb, or ripe fruit, plucked in haste 
 
 As he wandered from his hut down 
 
 The wild brook to the fabl'd mound. 
 
 Formed his only diet. The stream 
 
 That nmrmured at his feet in sheen 
 
 Ripplets and eddying pools gavj 
 
 Him drink. The debris from the grave 
 
 Of some long lost race gave him food 
 
 For his mind. Any eve 3'ou could 
 
 See him crouch 'd beneath that old tree 
 
 And in his eager hands tight he 
 
 Would hold some simple stone, shell, clay 
 
 Oft'times crumbs of dirt, then would say; 
 
 Placing them to his head, strange things. 
 
 In language queer, but in such strains 
 
 Of eloquence that for hours 
 
 One could sit and feel the powers 
 
 Within him move. The very soul 
 
 Which seem'd chain'd under his control. 
 
 Though his tales of incidents, scenes. 
 
 Freaks of nature and sprightly gleams 
 
 Of thought, clothed with poetic taste: 
 
 Grand as the speech of nature, chaste 
 
 As the clear blue depths of the sky: 
 
Poems of Leisure. 155 
 
 Sublime as the ocean when high 
 
 Heaven with her aerial wings 
 
 Tips its swelling cheeks with the tinge . 
 
 Of evening blushes; sweet and soft 
 
 As the first faint whispering waft 
 
 Of morning light; ardent as th' gleam 
 
 Of Hesperus as the mild stream 
 
 Of her face sets evening aglow 
 
 And swells with her lustrous brow 
 
 Night's approach with animation. 
 
 He, a lone one, no relation 
 
 Bore he to the people thereabout. 
 
 They shunned him and said he was out 
 
 Of his mind; talked so strange and queer; 
 
 Seem'd more like th' spectre of a seer, 
 
 Drawn to earth to fathom the store 
 
 Of some mystic truths of hidden lore, 
 
 Than a man of flesh. Spread his fame 
 
 Through all the neighborhood; yet his name 
 
 Was unknown, though for many years 
 
 He had lived there; the children with jeers 
 
 Dubbed him, "Old Archus." By that name 
 
 Spread his legends and his fame. 
 
 From his long script of leathern make, 
 A little stone sometimes he'd take, 
 And place it to his forehead bare, 
 And with his hand would press it there; 
 And then, as moved by mountain sprite, 
 Upon the stone, sometimes would write. 
 With a tiny reed, well shapen. 
 As if by scribe with golden pen; 
 But no one could his letters read, 
 Or guess the impress of his reed, 
 
 "What name you this?" Lorando said. 
 
 Who gave the leathern polk a pull 
 And on the ground he caus'd to spread 
 
 A thousand trinkets cypher' d full 
 Of letters, figures, scrolls and dots. 
 Which Archus said portray' d the thoughts 
 Of other things breathed on the brain, 
 
 When they were pressed upon his head; 
 And each could in its proper train, 
 
 Have all its life and secrets read. 
 
156 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 "I name them not," Old Archus said, 
 "They name themselves as they are read. 
 
 These relics form the many pages 
 That form my great book of ages. 
 My book goes back to long ago, 
 When all the universe aglow 
 With mists, atomic, lay in spell 
 With Life entomb' d and Force as well, 
 In Matter; which with supine test. 
 It was infinitude at rest. 
 
 These truths are mine. I read them all; 
 
 I sense them in this rock-form'd ball. 
 
 Hard as the adamant and smooth 
 
 As polish'd marble. From a groove 
 
 In a large gray azoic stone. 
 
 As [ was traveling alone 
 
 Along the Laurentian hills, 
 
 I found it. Trinkling rills 
 
 Had garnished it for ages past. 
 
 Vast periods have come and cast 
 
 Their records upon it and made 
 
 It a living witness in the grade 
 
 Of events passing; on its face. 
 
 And in its bosom, I can trace 
 
 The cause of ev'ry living thing. 
 
 I see through it the fountain spring 
 
 Of life. I sense, when the warm wave 
 
 Of animation, on the grave 
 
 Of cold inanimation, smiled. 
 
 And sent young Love to the roil'd 
 
 Turgidity of the dark, deep 
 
 Depths below, where Death wish'd to sleep: 
 
 But, on its vapid face Love breathed ; 
 
 And Life's womb, fructuous, conceived 
 
 And brought forth a living monad. 
 
 Anterior to that, all life had. 
 
 In the atomies, been dead asleep; 
 
 But, through aggregation, broke the deep 
 
 Spell that bound it; and forth then came 
 
 Sweet budding life ; that glorious flame 
 
 Supreme, that has aggregated 
 
 Into humanitv, mated 
 
Poems of Leisure. 157 
 
 With passing glories dead and gone 
 To glories brighter 3'et to come. 
 
 LORANDO. 
 
 "Pray good Archus tell us how (2) 
 
 You read such vdvid incidents through 
 
 The medium of a gem, stone, shell, 
 
 Or other relic? Pray you tell 
 
 Us how this, your trick is done? 
 
 You take, I see, a simple stone 
 
 And from it read such stories wild 
 
 That daze the wise and please the child. 
 
 These strange stories which you relate, 
 
 Are too abstruse to demonstrate 
 
 By science; yet, we are amused 
 
 But hope you will not feel confused. 
 
 Or let the ire of your mind 
 
 Rebuff our efforts, tense, to find 
 
 The powers, which behind you lie, 
 
 To demonstrate this mystery." 
 
 ARCHUS. 
 
 "Cold science, child of vanity, 
 
 Asks nature in her verity 
 
 To stop as she is on the train 
 
 Of progress, and, to it explain 
 
 Each simple fact transpiring, 
 
 Before the vain aspiring 
 
 Student, dull, can accept as true 
 
 A phenomena within his view 
 
 Perform'd; and like the owl at night 
 
 See more in darkness than in light 
 
 And what he does not comprehend 
 
 Or see, he knows can but portend 
 
 To evil; and, like the owl wise 
 
 He hoots at them as vagaries. 
 
 But as you ask, I hope you'll heed 
 
 'Tis through a sense these things I read. 
 
 This bit of granite, here you see, 
 
 Was taken from Lagullas bold, 
 Which aggravates Algoa bay 
 
 And makes it hazardous I'm told 
 For mariners to find their way 
 Along the south of Afrigah. 
 
158 Poems of Leisuj'e. 
 
 It tells my brain, a well-train'd nerve 
 
 That eons past, it help'd to serv^e, 
 
 Lamura in her mountain caves; 
 
 But now she sleeps beneath the waves — 
 
 She sleeps like Atalantus fair 
 
 While surging waves roll over her 
 
 And monsters of the briny deep 
 
 Now gambol in the paven street 
 
 Where wealth and fashion once held sway 
 
 And nimble tripp'd the carpjea. 
 
 If you'll allow my musings range, 
 I'll now relate a story strange; 
 'Tis of a maid of ages old, 
 The story quaint and queer is told. 
 
 In the fret of a winding stream. 
 This filigree I found. Laurine, 
 Its owner was, she used to wear 
 Its golden threadlets in her hair; 
 Bedighting well her queenly brow, 
 Whose glories and whose anguish now 
 Transfuse themselves upon my brain; 
 And, I will through their clear refrain^ 
 Give you her life, exact and true; 
 Though old in time, the tale is true. 
 I found it while I was in Greece; 
 Mount Helicon retains the place 
 Where Laurine sank in grief to rest; 
 Those golden threads will tell the rest. 
 
 Through kindest nature she was evolv'd 
 On whose fair cheeks the sweet kiss of 
 
 Heaven, as zephyr's touch, resolv'd 
 A gentle grace; and, mild from off 
 
 Her fresh and queenly face 
 
 Glow'd an angelic grace. 
 
 Laurine was kind, with mind serene; 
 Fair as the kiss of morning dews 
 Pure as the iflakes of falling snow; 
 
 Chaste as ice from crystal stream ; 
 
 True as the vows of Cupid's shrine; 
 
 And, none but Love could call her mine. 
 
 Once in quiet meditation 
 
Poems of Leisure. 159 
 
 She sat beneath a branching tree, 
 Whose leaves by slow agitation 
 
 Sent a solemn refrain to the 
 Heart. High above the tree she heard 
 A clear and ringing voice; a bird 
 Could not have trilled more sweedy 
 Nor cut those notes more cute and neatly. 
 
 From an aerial w^orld palace 
 
 Seemed to come a white dove, holding 
 By a silver cord, a chalice 
 
 Of beaten gold ; while beholding 
 It, dumb bound, Laurine stood. With her 
 
 Soft silver wing she brushed aside 
 The feathery clouds hanging 'nealh 
 The dome of heaven, leaving a clear 
 
 Sky and smiHng sun, the light and pride 
 Of Nature, behind her. A wreath 
 Of glory encircled her flight — 
 A beautiful, beaudful sight ! 
 The soul went out in raptured love 
 To greet her. What then seem'd a dove 
 
 On the air before her standing 
 
 She saw slowly, neatly blending, 
 To the form and simiHtude 
 
 Of a fair and beautiful 
 Woman. Then her solicitude 
 
 Knew no bounds; and most dutiful 
 Laurine arose her visitant 
 
 To honor and to welcome. Her eyes 
 As sapphire shown. Her cheeks were blent 
 
 With kisses of rose and Hly; 
 
 Lips of ruby. From the deep skies 
 Of ether, serene and chilly. 
 Materialized her vesture 
 
 Came about her, spotless and white, 
 Inlaid with a golden lustre 
 
 All neatly wove by gleaming light. 
 Her auburn tresses seemed to blaze 
 With golden fire, from the rays 
 Of the sun distilled. Calm she stood 
 
 Upon a ball of lucid air, 
 Angelic was her every mood ; 
 
 Her smiles were sweet and debonair. 
 
i6o Poetns of Leisure. 
 
 Takinjj from her chalice britrht 
 
 x\n orange-shaped fruit, clear, ripe, 
 
 And beautiful. — Unspeakable 
 
 Was the scene. With a musical 
 
 And charming voice, she said: "Now see 
 
 This fruit, my own hand, from the tree 
 
 Beatific plucked. Sow its seed, 
 
 And whoever harvests th' fruit, need 
 
 Fear no <juile. The meat thereof will 
 
 Every sad and aching heart till 
 
 With joy, and reconcile his life 
 
 To the meeds of man. Greed and strife, 
 
 On the dark win^s of Ni<jht, will awav 
 
 To the by-go nes fly, and the day 
 
 Of man come forth, garlanded and wreathed 
 
 With the hopes of his heart received. 
 
 Take it and guard it with care, 
 
 The ten cardinal virtues are there — 
 
 Virtues, in whose even control 
 
 They are, with joy will All the soul.'' 
 
 Laurine took the fruit; from it came 
 
 Ten seeds, labeled Ten V^irtues. Name 
 
 After name, as they dropped, she read. 
 
 And then again the fair one said : 
 
 "Read aloud and let your voice roll 
 
 From clime to clime, from pole to pole. 
 
 Let every tongue and nation know 
 
 Redemption rests with man below. 
 
 Voice ye these mandates from above. 
 
 1. LOVE. 
 
 "The first grand principle is Love, 
 It spans the two eternities. 
 
 And in the heart should reign supreme. 
 It guards from guile the minds which move 
 In concord with its verities. 
 
 And makes the mind of man serene. 
 
 2. HOPE. 
 
 Hope sees a star, bevond the shroud. 
 That fills the heart with dark despair. 
 And whispers to the doubting mind: 
 "Cheer up, for soon the heavy cloud 
 Will pass away and then the fair 
 
 Sun will smile and cast th' clouds behind. 
 
Poems of Leisure, i6=i 
 
 3. TRUTH. 
 
 "Truth, the brightest jewel in 
 
 Crown of all the virtues, shines forth 
 In brilliant grandeur as the guide 
 To all true excellence. To be 
 
 Without its guiding light and worth 
 Is but to sink 'neath Error's tide. 
 
 4. JUSTICE. 
 
 "Justice, with imperial mien, 
 
 Demands for all their measure true. 
 
 In wage, in weight, in script and word, 
 In open deeds and thoughts unseen. 
 
 Each one should have his meed and due, 
 And each his merited reward. 
 
 5. MERCY. 
 
 "Mercy in tears with arms out- 
 Stretched, kneels begging, at th' citadel 
 Of the heart, for admittance. Bleeds 
 Many a sorrowing soul, — not 
 For bread, but for pity. Well 
 
 Be it with those who lighten their needs. 
 
 6. CHARITY. 
 
 "■'Charity a ministering 
 
 Angel is, whose ears are open 
 Ever to the wails of distress; 
 And whose great work is administering 
 To the needy, and the broken 
 
 Heart, soothing with love and kindness. 
 
 7. TEMPERANCE. 
 
 "Temperance raps at the door of 
 Every heart and claims dominion 
 There. But oft she is cajoled with 
 Vows, and silenced, that he may quaff 
 The dregs of drunkenness, th' union 
 Of crime, disgrace, disease and death. 
 
 8. FORGIVENESS. 
 
 "A forgiving spirit stands the 
 Fairest of them all. To forgive 
 Is the divinity within 
 
i62 Poems of JLeisure. 
 
 Man at work. Give it liberty 
 
 Of exercise. Hate should not live 
 In the heart. "Tis the vilest sin. 
 
 9. ASPIRATION. 
 
 "Aspiration is that quality 
 
 Of mind that elevates the man 
 x\bove the brute. It will inspire 
 The mind, if guided properly, 
 To all those noble deeds that can 
 Raise man higher and higher. 
 
 10. SELF-RESPECT. 
 
 "Self-respect should ever be seen 
 
 Reflected through all your days. To 
 Ride life's tempestuous tide with ease, 
 You should view with scorn th' horrid mien 
 Of vice. Oh, keep this fact in view. 
 That Honor casts no backward lees." 
 
 Thus saying the spectre threw 
 
 Around Laurine as from the sun 
 A cloak of light, then the two 
 At once were blended into one 
 And that one was Laurine. 
 Then from a thousand throats arose 
 Acclaims that broke the calm repose 
 Of nature; and great joy ran through 
 Every heart, for well they knew 
 
 Laurine by nature was a queen. 
 A thousand voices join'd in song 
 And bore the pride of Hellis on. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Oh! maiden of Hellenic birth. 
 
 Receive the smiles of Athens proud: 
 Thy glory will enfold the earth. 
 
 And break the thrall of kingly shroud. 
 Now let us raise a gleeful song; 
 And roll the joyful news along: 
 For Hellis has produced Laurine 
 To rule the heart of man serene. 
 
 There is a tear for ev'ry woe, 
 
 A balm for ev'ry human sigh; 
 A stream that will forever flow. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 163 
 
 From heart to heart with sympathy; 
 Then let us raise a gleeful song, 
 And roll the joyful news along; 
 For Hellis has produced Laurine 
 To rule the heart of man serene. 
 
 The last soft note was borne away 
 
 Upon the bosom of the air; 
 And, lost in the sweet melody 
 
 Of Nature's rhythmic voice. The day 
 Was bright; about the face the fair 
 
 Blush of Spring, swam in revelry 
 And rejoiced at the bliss of twittering 
 Birds; and the bees' bus}' murmuring. 
 
 By a gentle wave of her hand 
 
 Laurine bad her friends good day, then 
 Returning, they, to their homes. She 
 Finding kindred echos and grand 
 Refrains of heart, in a glen 
 
 Where a purling brook to the sea, 
 Wending its way from adown the furrow' d 
 Cheeks of Parnassus, whose bleak head tovver'd 
 
 Away to that enchantment, where 
 The gods saw beauty in the awe 
 Inspiring scenes o' desolation. 
 Meditating alone; the fair 
 One, on the inflexible law 
 Of mind, near the habitation 
 Once of gods and demi-gods found 
 In mountains vast and caves 'neath th' ground. 
 
 Sat she, with eyes upon the gay 
 Flowerets about her smiling, 
 
 With her heart attun'd to the low 
 Rippling brooklet at her feet, they 
 Enriching her mind and whiling 
 Away that rich and glorious flow 
 Of mental enchantment that appreciates 
 Neither what pain nor pleasure demonstrates. 
 
 Her mind refluent on those scenes, 
 
 When, unrivaled, up and down the 
 Rock-ribbed heights of those primeval 
 Steeps, Apollo strom'd. In his dreams 
 
 The rapturous twang and symphony 
 
164 Poems of Leistire. 
 
 Of the cithera softly fell 
 Upon his ear; and trilling to his heart 
 Back tenderly brought Love's sweet counterpart. 
 
 And, in those dreams, as he had seen. 
 She saw, that triumph, which is just, 
 Over evil. The dragon fell'd 
 And the "Bow Bearer" calm and serene 
 Kiss the brow of virtue, which must 
 Ever reign supreme, be indwell'd 
 In that heart which for pure sympathy swells 
 For man, when his soul in deep sorrow dwells. 
 
 Laurine saw Time pass along — 
 Nature into nature blending; 
 Beauty into beauty smiling; 
 All in harmony moving on, 
 As a great river, on, wending 
 To the ocean deep, and whiling 
 Its length along, with nothing to oblend 
 Its way, till its waters to th' ocean tend. 
 
 Her mind had taken rapturous wings 
 And flown awa}^ to the realms of bliss 
 And left her in a revery; 
 A kind of a perfect rest, where springs 
 The sweetest thoughts; the richest kiss 
 From Nature's fairest rosary. 
 Laurine was happy I Happy in the thought 
 That all mankind with happiness were fraught. 
 
 The blue sky, its capacious wings 
 
 Had spread, like silken canvass, fromi 
 Horizon to horizon. The 
 Scenes awoke th' chord that ever springs 
 In the breast, where vile passions come 
 Not to disturd that sympathy 
 Of nature serene; which, the universe 
 Through, pervades, and all its vastness traverse. 
 
 Found in Laurine' s breast, a resting 
 
 Place, calm thoughts and a welcome wish 
 To there abide and bask in the 
 Sunlight of love, everlasting. 
 
 While thus she mused, the distant clash 
 Of arms destroyed her revery^ 
 
Poems of Leisure. 165 
 
 And fast, she saw, across the plain, afar, 
 Coming, a steed, caparisoned for war. 
 
 As a timid fawn from its lair 
 
 Of grass and wild roses startled; 
 Laurine to her nimble feet sprang, 
 To tind a gallant cavalier 
 
 Approaching. His blue eyes sparkled 
 With manly valor; his voice rang 
 Out in clarion strains, as he awoke 
 Her senses to the horrors, wars, invoke. 
 
 Be not alarmed, lad3^ I came 
 
 To bring thee no harm. The name 
 
 I bear, to me, unsullied down 
 
 An ancestrial line came. Renown 
 
 And honor bore it company. 
 
 The Gratii trace their family 
 
 To that small band of noblemen 
 
 Who drove Pelasgi from his den 
 
 And proudly spread upon the breeze 
 
 The standard of the Hellenes. 
 
 'Twas there, he stood, my father's sire 
 
 And bore his breast a targe to fire 
 
 And sword. Hand in hand, in yon plain 
 
 Contended with th' Nervi. The slain 
 
 Lay thick about his feet, for well 
 
 His aim, each stroke a Nervi fell; 
 
 And caused his glave the chamade, 
 
 And acclaim of the victory. 
 
 Nor can I more inspire my pride 
 
 Than thinking how my father pHed 
 
 The steel to vaunting foe. His name 
 
 Was traced, by pens of golden flame. 
 
 Upon the rolls of honor. Speak 
 
 The archives of that valiant Greek; 
 
 And how he did his duty well. 
 
 In council and in fury fell. 
 
 Nor on the sanguine battlefield 
 
 Was Marathon forgot. To yield 
 
 He deigns not. He fell with spear in hand, 
 
 When striking for his native land. 
 
 And these are of his words last said: 
 
 "My sire honor'd his sire dead; 
 
 A son should live with this in view 
 
i66 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 To honor self and his sire too. 
 And as I have no more to do, 
 The rest I leave, my son, to you." 
 
 I live as once he lived : I strike 
 
 As once he struck, and, with the might 
 
 Of this strong arm, I wield a blade 
 
 That no cuirass ever made 
 
 Can well resist its cleavage. My 
 
 Swift glave has rais'd the courage high, 
 
 And cleaved the helmet and the head 
 
 Of one who dared to take the lead 
 
 Against a Greek to battle bred; 
 
 Who strikes for home and sires dead. 
 
 'Tis fame that gilds my rising star, 
 
 And guides my arm in times of w^ar. 
 
 'Twas this that brought me here, fair maid, 
 
 To saV'C you, as a cruel raid 
 
 Of savaije foes has struck amain 
 
 In yonder broad and spacious plain. 
 
 The foe is there, with shield and spear. 
 
 Well skill' d in arms and dead to fear. 
 
 His allients will soon be here 
 
 To bear thee hence, 'mid shouts and cheer 
 
 My steed stands ready, strong and fleet 
 
 To bear thee with his rapid feet 
 
 Far out of danger. 
 
 "My valiant sir, 
 I fear them not, the grims of war 
 Can nerve no arm to bear afar 
 This frame of mine," rejoined Laurine. 
 "To thus refuse, cause me to ween, 
 You fear me more," young Gratius said, 
 "Than the heavy martial tread, 
 Or athlete arm, that bears the shield ; 
 That speeds the dart, or falchion wield, 
 Of our enemies; and, on th' name 
 Of Gratius, cast the shades of shame. 
 A grim, for all the years of yore, 
 Was never cast on it before. 
 He who can cleave the cataphrast, 
 And lead the charge, can never cast 
 Upon the cheek of innocense. 
 The shades that mourn its lost defense." 
 "Your wits, misguided, mistake me; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 167 
 
 I doubt not, sir, your gallantry." 
 
 Laurine, with modesty replied: 
 
 •'I would that you should be my guide 
 
 Through passes wild and mountains high, 
 
 That I the enemy descry; 
 
 Then I will on the battlefield 
 
 Achieve more good than you can wield 
 
 With armor, spear or trusty glave, 
 
 However swift your stroke, or brave; 
 
 Now, sir, with haste bring on your steed; 
 
 You fleet of foot may take the lead, 
 
 And I will follow you afar, 
 
 Till danger makes it prudent for 
 
 You to surcease, and then the rein 
 
 I'll guide and to the brawl amain 
 
 And battle wreck, will speed my course; 
 
 No harm to self betide, or horse, — 
 
 Haste on, brave Gratius, in the lead 
 
 Across the heath and fenery glebe 
 
 And on amid the battle scene 
 
 And I will cease the strife, I ween." 
 
 "Should Hellicon his hoary head. 
 
 Fold on his side," young Gratius said, 
 
 "Or change Cithearous furrow' d brow, 
 
 I'd be no more surprised than now; 
 
 Firm as the rock of yonder height. 
 
 Thou seem'st and strong. To gain in flight 
 
 Beyond barbarian reach or trail. 
 
 That he might not on thee entail 
 
 His wanton practices, refuse 
 
 You, your consent. I pray thee lose 
 
 No time in idle parle3nng; 
 
 The foe, alert, is rallying, 
 
 With all his troop and main 
 
 With scout through copse wood and the plain 
 
 In search of unprotected prey. 
 
 Is now deploy' d. The sun, this day, 
 
 Will not have kiss'd the deep green sea 
 
 A sweet good night, before the ray 
 
 Of virgin hope will have been cast 
 
 Of thy own persistence ; and lost 
 
 In some rude barbarian camp. 
 
 Where, rhythmic to the savage tramp 
 
 Of revengeful giaours, will be thy cry, 
 
i68 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Nay I say not no, but let us fly, 
 
 Yes, fly with me, within the lines 
 
 Of friendly guard and spear; these times 
 
 Are not propitious for maiden 
 
 Dreams of romance in love, laden 
 
 In feats of trallantry in some 
 
 Arcadean wild, where the plume 
 
 Waves in the breeze a quiet hour 
 
 In safety, in some star-lit bower, 
 
 Where philomel, with notes attun'd. 
 
 Lend enchantment to th' scenes, perfum'd 
 
 With ardent love, on whispers low. 
 
 Which sets anew, the soul aglow." 
 
 "Nay, Gratius, let thy fears be still; 
 
 Desist thou to divert my will; 
 
 I must go hence, if blood they spill, 
 
 And soothe their savage natures, 
 Haste I uncaparison thy steed; 
 Give me the reins and to the lead. 
 Across the heathery and meed 
 
 I'll bend my way; and, the features 
 Of this sanguine test will change; 
 i\nd Hellis give a grander range. 
 
 GRATIUS. 
 
 "If thou wilt go, I pray Laurine, 
 My cuirass take, this poniard keen. 
 And burnish' d blade, must gleam 
 
 Before the eyes of foemen ; 
 And death must perch on ev'ry wave 
 Of thy hand. An Amazon brave 
 Must seem to cleave thy trusty glave, 
 
 And fierce must seem the woman; 
 Thine eyes must pierce, as darts of war; 
 And arm must wield the lochabar." 
 
 "Thy cuirass, blade and Lochabar, 
 May serve thee well in times of war: 
 But I possess a weapon far 
 
 Superior to them. See 
 This fruit, most beautiful and grand, 
 Was by the soft angelic hand, 
 Of the mother of love, embalm'd 
 
 With heaven's blessings. She 
 Gave me, in days of late, 
 
Poems of Leisure. 169 
 
 And said that it would conquer Hate." 
 "I go !" and ere Gratius brave 
 Could interpose a word to save 
 The fair one from a tombless grave, 
 
 ■ Among the maim'd and nameless dead, 
 As he, with trembling fear suppos'd. 
 Upon his charger fleet, she posed, 
 x\s a sylph royal from the clos'd 
 
 Mountain fastness, where the first red 
 Tongued rays of sweet morning did gleam 
 In joyous smiles to bless the scene. 
 There, with suspended breath. 
 
 Brave Gratius, spellbound stood; 
 
 As through the deep dense wood 
 She sped her way to death 
 Inevitable, as he opin'd. 
 And he was left, standing, there behind. 
 
 II. 
 
 Moving to keep pace with the shade 
 
 Of the old tree, whose long arms 
 Outspread, with magic grace, had made 
 
 A shelter 'gainst sun and storms 
 For man and beast; 
 Old Archus, with trepidation 
 
 Wild, with wreathing pain on his face 
 Depicted, in explanation 
 
 Of its bold and visible trace. 
 On brain and breast, 
 Convulsed with emotion, said: 
 "I shrink to read, as I have read. 
 From this bright jewel' d filigree. 
 
 Which annihilates time and space, 
 To give you facts as it gives me 
 
 Of her young life, that here I trace, 
 Which on my memory here cast. 
 Scenes quite fifteen centuries past. 
 Scenes of horror, scenes of blood. 
 Which cast upon my mind a flood 
 Of facts in the march of ages 
 Which have not upon the pages 
 Of living history gained a place, 
 'Till now; and, as I read, you trace 
 With hand unsoil'd and faber true. 
 
170 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 The facts as I will give them, you. 
 "I see the frail and lovely form 
 
 Of Laurine, borne as the wind; fed 
 Upon the furious breath of storm 
 
 And rage, to the open cube 
 Of rough barbarians. Rude 
 In civic life, and in war 
 Savage and revengeful; nor 
 Have they thought of sympathy. 
 Refinement, or gallantry. 
 The pure, fair and lovely, find 
 No considerate balm in the mind 
 Of semi-beasts, like they. On the face 
 Of each barbarian I trace 
 A sardonic grimace-like smile, 
 As they oblique their straggling file. 
 To receive in trap the impell'd 
 Maiden, on to worse than death. Fell'd 
 Were she to earth. 'Twere better far. 
 Than thus abide the fates of war 
 
 With barbarians. What care they 
 For the fruit of fraternal love? 
 
 In their stolid breasts, the ray 
 Of friendship never caused to move 
 A heart to throes of sympathy 
 Or love. Love is a mystery 
 
 To them, that guilds the shadowy 
 Dreams that slyly flit across th' brains 
 
 When sleep has borne the thoughts away 
 From the tented plain, where conflict reigns. 
 
 Upon the war-trained steed, she flies. 
 
 Of Gratius. In th' distance, the spears 
 Of well-train'd troops, in line, she spies; . 
 
 And, dissipating all her fears. 
 The fruit does, th' gift of spirit hand. 
 She gives to Selim his command — 
 x\nd now, the ground beneath his feet 
 Seems to fly. Like a roebuck, fleet, 
 He skims the surface; and, away 
 Bounding goes to the dense array 
 Of glittering spears in th' distance seen. 
 By his accustomed eyes, which gleam 
 Like fed balls of fire at the sight 
 Of vaunting foe, who smiles to kyke 
 
Poems of Leisure. 171 
 
 Such willing prey. 
 Toward the long and upheld spears, 
 As whilom Gratius with no fears 
 Of odds in din of battle met, 
 Nor glave, nor gleam of burganet. 
 
 He speeds away. 
 With one bold ramp a fearful fosse 
 
 He clears; but, in the feat Laurine, 
 The golden apple drops. The horse 
 
 Inspired anew, heeds not the rein 
 That would now turn his course oblique, 
 And save his rider from the blight 
 
 Of innocence and death; 
 Which she with horror now beholds, 
 As troop by line on line unfolds 
 Each savage aspect to her, 
 As borne nearer and nearer 
 
 To their grasp, she is. Her breath 
 Cut short by transit swift, so that 
 She cannot articulate. What 
 Next to do she can not opine, 
 As she is now within the line 
 Of foe relentless. 
 And she defenseless. 
 The steed, she tries to turn to th' right 
 In vain. He rushes to the fight. 
 Nor winces he at sight of foe, 
 But at the tallest plumes will go 
 With open jaws and frightful teeth, 
 Agleam with rage. Prostrate beneath 
 His feet many brave giaours are thrown 
 To feel the crash of flesh and bone, 
 As jaws and hoofs are well applied 
 To those who brave his pressing tide. 
 Laurine, pale and aghast with fear, 
 Sees pointed at her breast a spear 
 Of burnished steel, in the strong hand 
 
 Of a stalwart Gaul, well poised. 
 
 Before escapes his Hps, th' command 
 To surcease, the steed has cloy'd. 
 By stroke of hoof, his tongue in death ; 
 And makes him gasp, alas ! for breath. 
 But in the whirl pure Laurine falls. 
 And now in vain for aid she calls. 
 
172 Poems of JLeisure. 
 
 Young Gratius could not be remiss 
 In gallantry, in time like this, 
 Comes he impetuously there, 
 With visor cast and right arm bare. 
 One hand has clutch'd th' Damascus blade. 
 • The other on his hauberk laid 
 Above his heart, and, with the air 
 Of a noble prince says: "I swear 
 By the virtue of this trusty blade. 
 Your best shall fall unless the maid. 
 That yonder lies, now be unbound, 
 And she restor'd without a wound 
 Of honor, or of flesh, to me, 
 And she go hence as she came, free. 
 Unsullied, unchain'd and unharm'd, 
 Or, I will cleave, however arm'd 
 He be, the head from off the trunk 
 Of the vile leader of this drunk 
 And crazy mob. But if none dare 
 Confront this glave, unsheathed and bare, 
 I whiff the sturgid air amain. 
 In your very faces and proclaim. 
 To your teeth, to doff that plume 
 And on your forehead write poltroon. 
 Who would, like a cringing wretch. 
 Bow tamely to this glave and stretch 
 Himself away. You are a prig, 
 Unworthy to support the gaudy rig 
 Of gold embroidered frill and lace, 
 That skirt your trebble plaid cuirass." 
 
 BRANTD. 
 
 Avaunt, lad! let thy insolence 
 
 Put not longer the decency 
 Of speech at bay; of no defense 
 
 Will it admit; such but the spray 
 Is of effervescent 
 
 Superciliousness. Behold 
 One who bore the crescent 
 
 Of success across the bold 
 Heights of the Cenis, before thee- 
 
 He broke the frore barrier 
 Of Appenine ice and a free 
 
 Passage made for Gaulians th' fair 
 
Poems of Leisure. 173 
 
 Fields of bright Italy to breach, 
 
 And revel in love and luxury. 
 He has stood on the topmost reach 
 
 Of Weisshan and watch'd th' tracery 
 Of the sinking sun fade from sight, 
 And leave trembling on the cerule height 
 Of heaven the hanging stars, 
 O'er chasms deep and moiden bars. 
 He has stood where the clouds, snow-bound, 
 Have stoop' d to spread their freight around 
 The frigid brow of Corinthia. 
 With noting eyes has watch'd the ray, 
 Sent burning from the sun's hottest 
 Fissure to the very topmost 
 Granule of the Alps, where the Drave 
 Its first twinkling waters engrave 
 A crevice, slight, in mountain ice, 
 Has he stood with ease; and, thrice 
 The meandering Raab has borne him 
 
 Adown its precipitous tide, 
 In a frail boat of bark and limb, 
 
 Without a scratch of hair or hide. 
 
 Yea, more, he has delved the grave 
 Of many and brought the brave 
 Of other lands in ghastly gore. 
 At his feet. He has stood before 
 The cataphrast without a wince ; 
 And with ungauntleted hands, a prince 
 He has, perforce, from off his steed 
 Taken, and on the field to bleed 
 Thrown him. Sir, victory is mine; 
 And, now you vaunting lad, in fine 
 Tell me that wench's name, then thine, 
 Ere I upon this blade entwine 
 Thy flowing locks; thy flesh piecemeal 
 To the hungry wolverines reveal 
 As they to their moky haunts repair 
 With mouths amoe and eyes aglare. 
 List thee now; for thy impudence, 
 I grant to thee but the defense 
 Of a supplicant for mercy. 
 Kneel sir, and beg your life of me, 
 Or, I will lay the stifling treth, 
 Upon thee of the moils of death. 
 
174 Poems of L,eisu7-e. 
 
 GRATIUS. 
 
 And you demand of me the name 
 
 Of that fair one, the bloom of nature, 
 Whom you restrain with brutish chain 
 
 Around her slender waist entwined? 
 Seek thou first the nomenclature 
 Of the loathsome, murky cells, 
 
 And there infused, perhaps 3^ou'll find, 
 Where the fungus grows and dwells; 
 The black, insidious bane 
 That germ'd to life the very name 
 That sent you squirming into 
 
 The world, a half made-up hybrid; 
 Accurs'd by gods and nature too; 
 With nothing to commend your deeds 
 But sinks where loathsome vermin feeds. 
 
 Her name, so gentle pure and true. 
 Will never be impressed on you. 
 But they, the worthy, may but please, 
 To ask the low and whispering breeze 
 So soft and sweetly wafted from 
 
 The euphonious shore; 
 Whence the dew-kiss'd roses come. 
 And fulsome morning flushes o'er 
 Its golden banks, in gleams of love 
 And on the pillow'd clouds above 
 
 Of argent hue ; 
 
 Her name most true, 
 
 Is there enchas'd 
 
 With magic taste. 
 And I must bow and tell it you ? 
 
 Sir, I bow to no power 
 Save that which comes laughing through 
 
 The impulses of virtue. Nowhere 
 Found, save in the flow of pure 
 And noble manhood. Secure 
 You are from such obeisance ; 
 And I from such a grave offense 
 Of giving you that maiden's name. 
 That you perforce retain for shame. 
 You a passion have, it seems, for names. 
 And, mine, among the other, claims 
 Your curiosity. I grant 
 The vyish, and, in it I will plant 
 
Poems of Leisure. 175 
 
 Upon your obtuse memory, 
 A lesson deft and cleverly; 
 The secret I will soon reveal 
 
 To you, but in the revealment 
 
 I'll leave in vague, no concealment 
 O' fact, with this burnish'd point of steel 
 Within my grasp, sir, you shall feel. 
 Writing on your panting diaphragm ; 
 
 With dexterous skill the name I bear: 
 And by it you will know a man 
 
 With nerve has sent a tickler there, 
 
 As a pricking thorn to tear 
 Your vitals one by one and strew 
 Them upon the turf about you. 
 
 BRANTD. 
 
 Your insolence befrets me not. 
 No more than the horn'd owl's hoot 
 Disturbs the silver moon, as she 
 Rolls into the cerulean sea 
 Of ether, and sends a greeting 
 Smile to the night-gather'd meeting 
 Of laughing stars. I do but sport, 
 In mind, at your impudent port. 
 Would a lion in his lair 
 
 Umbrage take at a squeaking mouse? 
 With his majestic paw, slay her. 
 
 He might, at once, with a slight toss, 
 Sent through the air, for amusement. 
 Her limp carcass. The slow movement 
 Of th' mollusk, vexes not the gay 
 Dolphin disporting in the spray 
 Of the wind-lashing sea. 
 Nor do you disturb me 
 By your despiteful play 
 
 On words, malign and coarse. 
 It would be mete to slay 
 
 You now, outright, perforce, 
 This bright and tickling blade. 
 And throw your carcass in yon glade 
 To batten hungry wolves upon, 
 A feat, deserving to be done. 
 But as the cat disports 
 At pleasure with her captured mouse. 
 
170 J\>c/i/s of J.cisure. 
 
 Ami kon it ramp about the house 
 Accortl with loHiu* sj>()rts, 
 lu'loii' shi' makes ot him a meal; 
 So I, (laiuloxan Brantd, 
 Will pass a ]ila\ liil lime with now, 
 Aiul priek NOiir llesh ami liauberk throiii;!!. 
 With lalehion keen in haml; 
 Ami maki' xonr neixi's its keiMi i'ili;e leel. 
 
 (JKAl'lUS. 
 
 \'i)Uf laleliion 1 will leel, \i)u sav? 
 Sir! that's a i;ame that two eaii ]ila\' : 
 Come oil ! ami ere hall through xoui" part, 
 \'ou"ll liml I rule the jiestie art. 
 
 TIT. 
 
 As liohiniiio- iiHini ilu> an^iy eUiml, 
 
 Leaps loith in stieams ol lurid lire. 
 Ami sets ai^low the sable shroml 
 
 Thai hangs arouml the mountain spiie 
 And shakes the earth with tear below. 
 So leapM the bhule ixoxw La Hrantd's sheath 
 
 And llashM its hurnish'd point in air. 
 As llash'd his savage eye beneath 
 
 Long tutted loeks ol' sun-burned hair, 
 To make the tirst the fmal blow. 
 
 Ami with a terene U)ok ot pride. 
 
 La l>rantd essay'il a deadly stroke; 
 Whieh Gratius deftly turnM aside 
 
 By eant ot arm ami eovuUer stroke, 
 Whieh set at naught the savage blade; 
 Ami, ere F^a Brantd could then regain 
 
 His poise, Gratius, by well-aim\l thrust. 
 His whizzing glave, so swill amain. 
 
 Cut through th' three-plied ealaphrast 
 Ami in his llesh a wound he made. 
 
 Now wilil with pain. womuKnl in pride. 
 His tierv eyeballs swellM with rage. 
 
 As Irinkling blooil drops, down his siile. 
 Inlorm'tl him iu)t again engage 
 
 Too rashly th' steel that (iralius bore. 
 
 As ehafd the steeil, at bugles' blast 
 '1\> eluuiie. yet. bv tiu'ce restrain'il. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 1*77 
 
 So La Brantd chaf'd to downward cast 
 His eye on Gratius; who, disdain'd 
 His cast, his scorn and pride he wore. 
 
 With glave and nerve at his command, 
 
 Young Gratius bore a noble port; 
 How like, he seem'd, a warrior grand, 
 
 And master of the fencing sport; 
 A test of which he could not yield. 
 But bade the giant come again 
 
 And measure strength with Grecian skill — 
 A flash of blade and thrust amain. 
 
 Betoken now a sanguine mill, 
 
 Where Pride with Honor vies for th' field. 
 
 Right cut, parry, left cut, parry, 
 
 Thrust, guard, head cut, parry, face cut; 
 Clash, clash, thrust, guard, cut and parr}^ 
 
 Back and forward, right and left, cut 
 
 And thrust, clatter, clash, round and round. 
 The burnish'd blades as lightning flash'd; 
 
 Man faced man with cut and thrust; 
 Like demons mad their sabers clash'd, 
 
 Determin'd both, th' battle must 
 Go on till one in death be found. 
 
 The nerve of arm and force of will 
 
 Push'd La Brantd on in the contest 
 With young Gratius, whose matchless skill 
 
 Serv'd well to guard him in the test; 
 When death stood ready with a kiss, 
 For the brow of him who should miss 
 
 A parry, or should fail to guard 
 Against a thrust, or, strike amiss 
 
 His mark. Long seem'd the contest; hard 
 Was th' fight; and neither was remiss. 
 
 La Brantd in strength a perfect man 
 Seem'd, and, at times his power great 
 
 Serv'd to send his sword in hand 
 
 To the very mark, swift and straight; 
 But wily Gratius parried well; 
 
 Each cut and thrust his ready blade 
 
 Received, and, sent harmless to the side; 
 
 With skillful thrust return'd, or, made 
 
178 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 A telling stroke with seeming pride ; 
 Which left effect wherever fell. 
 
 Backward and forward, charge defense, 
 
 Face to face, skipp'd round and round, 
 As in a wild gymnastic dance; 
 
 Moving to the clattering sound 
 
 Of clashing swords and din of shield ; 
 'Till on one knee, young Gratius fell; 
 
 It seem'd his head could not escape 
 The whizzing blade that seem'd to tell 
 
 Its story. A backward stroke the nape 
 Of La Brantd caught, and, then the field 
 
 Took the full measure of his length; 
 
 And Gratius, like a young tiger, 
 Proudly his foot on vanquish'd strength 
 Sat, and slowly drew his dagger 
 
 From its golden sheath, and, the crest 
 That plum'd the head of fallen foe. 
 Cut in th' full sight of the great stand 
 Of witnesses to the contest. 
 
 La Brantd received the agile blow. 
 
 On the medulla sent. The arm'd 
 Giant fell, not wounded by his foe, 
 
 Nor was he seriously harm'd; 
 
 Only stunn'd; and, he soon regained 
 Himself in thought and bowing said : 
 
 "Sir, by thy valor, thou hast won 
 The trophy; 'tis my sever' d head; 
 
 Now take it for it is thine own. 
 
 And let the maiden go unchain'd." 
 
 "I am a Grecian," Gratius said. 
 
 " 'Twas always said to their renown, 
 Though Jthey might fight till they were dead; 
 
 They never struck a foe while down. 
 Arise ! your sword resume; the crest 
 May lie as it is lying there; 
 
 With shield to guard and sword, defend 
 Yourself like I, with caput bare, 
 
 With blade to bide the nervy hand ; 
 Shall honor on the victor rest. 
 
 Now guard you well ; my nimble glave 
 Will never rest to leave undone 
 
Poems of Leisure. 179 
 
 This work now half-finish'd. The brave 
 Twang not the baHster unstrung; 
 Nor, in the side defenseless, thrust 
 The envious blade. Face to face, 
 
 Stroke to stroke, glave to glave, and eye 
 To eye. Be ready now, the place 
 Where best my blade may pierce I 
 
 Assign' d; now, guard well, you must. 
 
 The battle with vigor renew'd; 
 
 Fell fury, black with vengeance reign'd. 
 Like lightning, each wing'd blade pursued 
 
 From thrust to parry, thrust again, 
 The cut and parry, cut and guard, 
 So swift the eye could scarce detect 
 
 The movements of the savage blade, 
 That rained and rained so swift and back 
 
 To cut and guard so quickly made 
 
 With whizzing stroke, fast, swift and hard. 
 
 A stroke across the grasping hand, 
 
 Sent to the ground the shining blade. 
 That served so well to guard La Brantd ; 
 
 But ere another thrust was made, 
 Beneath the folding cataphrast, 
 A javelin from a coward hand. 
 
 Tore its way; and, young Gratius fell 
 Wounded in the side, and ran. 
 
 In streams the crimson blood, and well 
 He knew he soon would breathe his last. 
 
 Rife with indignation. La Brantd's 
 
 Eyes flashed with burning flames of fire. 
 
 "Shame ! yes, shame on the dastard hands 
 That sent this coward spear unfair, 
 
 Into the quivering flesh of this 
 Valiant youth," he said. Then he 
 Bent over the prostrate form, that 
 In pools of his own pure blood lay 
 
 Weltering there, and kindly asked, "What 
 He could do for that amiss." 
 
 "That vile act of an assassin, 
 
 Brutal, savage, and cowardly!" 
 "Bear me, and lay my hand within 
 
i8o Poems of Leisure. 
 
 The hand of tliat most womanly 
 
 Of bc'in<j^s, whom you ha\'e detain'd 
 By force of fetters;" Gratius said. 
 
 "And this is all the boon I ask, 
 Please hasten ere my soul has sped, 
 And think it not an irksome task, 
 To let me see the maid unchain' d." 
 
 From beneath his ringlet hauberk. 
 
 As they bore the pale youth away 
 To the maiden, all terror-struck 
 
 At those most cruel scenes that day. 
 He brought the apple forth, of love, 
 Which he, rushing to the scene, found 
 
 Where Selim leap'd the yawning fosse, 
 Ilalf-buried in the spongy ground 
 
 That caused the trip of bounding horse. 
 And caught the damsel in the move. 
 
 l^he wounded youth, with eves aglow. 
 
 But lips already witii the kiss 
 Of Deatli upon them, witii voice low 
 
 And becoming mild, said: "Fair Miss, 
 Let not the pangs of sorrow cross 
 The portals of thy love-lit heart ; 
 
 I lie at the door, 'tis ajar; 
 Be\'ond the threshold, the counterpart 
 
 Of all my troubles stands afar 
 To greet me. It is not a loss. 
 
 The shadows of departing life are 
 
 Made glorious bv the sweet thouirht 
 That we have not lived in vain. There 
 
 Are pleasurable joys in the grot, 
 That part the two eternities 
 Of him who tarries at the tomb 
 
 With the fruits of a well-spent past 
 Upon him. They lift th' shades of gloom, 
 
 And usher in a smile at the last 
 
 Flickering spark of fond memories. 
 
 How beautiful the silver drops 
 
 Fall from the end of Sharon's oar ! 
 
 The deep, deep stream in splendor looks 
 As its broad, smooth bosom, from shore 
 To shore is spread out before me. 
 
JPocjns of I^eisu7'e. 
 
 This is a pretty boat, only one 
 
 Can cross at a time in it. How 
 Proudly it bears itself along, 
 
 Parting the wavelets with its prow 
 Upreaching so beautifully. 
 
 The river is not wide, Laurine, 
 
 But deep. 'Tis not a rapid stream; 
 But resistlessly on. 'Twould seem, 
 
 Forever to the ocean dream 
 Of eternity, it flows; 
 Bearing down the debris of life, 
 
 To their recompense. The shore, 
 On the other side. 'Tis all rife 
 
 With beauties exquisite. Seems more 
 Like the dream the fairy knows 
 
 Of the floating isles in th' golden 
 
 Home of Hesperus, where the sky, 
 As in the times quaint and olden. 
 
 Came down, with love, to steal a sly 
 And furtive kiss from th' cheeks aglow 
 Of the ocean. There the fair fields ; 
 
 The flowery meads; and mountains 
 Grand, where the flush of beauty yields, 
 
 And quaffs from the gushing fountains 
 Of refreshing love that we know. 
 
 There bides the soul of love, Laurine, 
 
 The parent tree that bore the fruit 
 You lost at the fosse, when th' extreme 
 
 Ramp was made. I, when in pursuit 
 Of your flying form, found it there; 
 I give it thee; and to my fate 
 
 I yield, that awaits me for the 
 Finding." Limp fell his hand to wait 
 
 The call of Sharon. "Now, I see 
 Faces of friends awaiting there." 
 
 Then changed, as by a magic spell, 
 
 Imposed by some fay or sprite, 
 From the fair imperial dell 
 
 Of ^aen, where th' matchless 
 
 White-wing'd dove, enchants its sunny face 
 With song. La Brantd's visage of blood, 
 
 Changed to the smiles of fraternal 
 
 i«i 
 
i82 Poetns of Leisure. 
 
 Love and kindness. His austere mood 
 Had vanished, and a paternal 
 
 Care enthron'd itself with the <rrace 
 
 Of Terpsichore upon him. 
 
 ''Unlock those rude chains that entwine 
 The lithe form of the damsel. Sin 
 
 It is to keep her thus. 'Tis mine 
 To recompense with kindness those 
 Deeds that mar the human soul and 
 
 Wound the flesh with inflictions;" said 
 La Brandt to his uncouth command, 
 
 That stood about already wed. 
 
 Through Laurine's looks to Love's repose. 
 
 "Fair one, roll back to the Scythian 
 
 Cave, those frore thouj^hts of my mind. 
 That have erstwhile my soul within 
 
 Disturbed; and, let mv vearnings find 
 A heaven in thy smiles divine; 
 And may my hope to thee arise 
 
 To blessings; as the daffodil 
 Bends to the rising sun its eyes, 
 
 So let me cast my hope and dwell 
 M}^ fondest heart on thee as mine." 
 
 "Oh! let the Cimmerian caves, 
 
 Unbolt their savage doors and drink 
 From thee, those warm refreshing rays 
 
 Of fraternity; and, to th' brink 
 Of hate bear the tidings serene 
 Of love; that all may see and feel 
 
 That fraternal peace brings to the 
 Mind heaven's most bounteous weal; 
 
 And to the soul that wills it, free 
 
 Rangfe to bask in Love's fond domain.'^ 
 
 Thv fair cheeks make me wish that L 
 
 On svlphan pinions could arise. 
 And through the stars that jet the sky. 
 
 Look down on thee with million eyes; 
 And, with each eye, drink in the whole 
 Of thv loveliness and bear it. 
 
 Fraught with all thv goodness and worth. 
 To w'here the morning light was lit. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 183 
 
 And Nature wraught the coming birth 
 Of man and breathed on him a soul. 
 
 "What ill-formed creature could have moved 
 
 The spring germs of life, to bring 
 The seeds ol hatred to the groved 
 
 Garden of man; and in the spring 
 Of his existence make him more 
 A reveling beast of lust and crime 
 
 Than a man, with the endowments 
 Of all those qualities sublime, 
 
 That make th' world the embodiment 
 Of loveliness on sea and shore?" 
 
 "Laurine, erst you go forth to show 
 
 To the world, how it can conquer hate 
 With love, war with peace, and to sow 
 
 The seeds of kindness in the late 
 Soil of greed, woe and corruption; 
 Tear, tirst, 1 pray you, from the priest 
 
 His cowl, and from the monk his stole 
 And mitre. Crime is hated least 
 
 With them, when it enters on th' role 
 O' papal rule and man's subjection. 
 
 The tears that trinkle down the cheeks 
 
 Of Distress, and, the moan that breaks 
 The sorrowing heart, and, that wrecks 
 
 The breast with pain, with them awakes 
 No kindred throb of sympathy; 
 There are no binding ties for him 
 
 Who wears the stole. No wife, no child 
 He calls his own; no joy within 
 
 Save that of chanting anthems wild 
 In chorus at the litany. 
 
 Arise, fair maiden ! be thou free. 
 
 The partings of thine azure eyes 
 Have won my heart and conquer' d me. 
 
 My hand shall not again arise 
 Against my fellowman in hate. 
 By thy demeanor kind have done 
 
 More wondrous deeds of prowess, than 
 Could th' hundred hands of ^gaean. 
 
 My sword and spear shall rest, nor, can 
 The sound of bugle stimulate 
 
184 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 "My nerves again for war. Command, 
 
 And I will be thv willin"; slave. 
 Poor boy! Noble Gratius ! The hand 
 
 That caused the blood of this 3'Oung brave 
 Knight of Honor, to flow by stealth 
 Of spear, should be tabooed with Shame 
 
 For decency should fence her brow 
 Against the wretch. Ill be the fame 
 
 Of him who strikes a secret blow, 
 When one cannot defend himself. 
 
 "Poor Gratius moves not. He is dead ! 
 
 "Tis scarce an hour since this youth 
 Inspired my strong arm to heed 
 
 His matchless skill ; but now, in ruth 
 I bend my eyes on him, stark, dead! 
 The fire has fled his hazel eves; 
 
 His cheeks have lost their manly pride. 
 That spake through them; and, now he lies 
 
 Speechless before me ! How he died ! 
 Pulseless now as the glave he sped." 
 
 The looks of love, that bless' d the eyes 
 
 And flush'd the glowing cheeks of bloom. 
 Had fled Laurine's face; and, their emprise 
 
 Of good, had turn'd to looks of gloom — 
 Sorrow, deep, her sweet smile did shade; 
 She stood in silence and in grief 
 
 Beside the pale and pulseless youth; 
 Beat her aching heart for relief; 
 
 But her soul was engulf'd in ruth, 
 
 And woe intense did her thoughts invade. 
 
 Beneath an oak they delved his grave ; 
 
 His visor on his face was drawn ; 
 The honors of a soldier brave. 
 
 By all the warriors there were shown ; 
 Thus he was laid away to rest. 
 Laurine a little stone had placed 
 
 To mark the resting of his head; 
 A wild syringa, sweet and chaste. 
 
 She planted on his grave and said, 
 "He died for me; for me oppressed." 
 
 "The trees, Laurine, are golden-tipp'd; 
 The sun has sent his kiss adieu ; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 185 
 
 The bee, the honied bloom has sipp'd, 
 And from the shades of night withdrew, 
 And soon the blooming face of earth 
 Will be enwrapp'd with sable gloom; 
 
 And we will have to brook the stream 
 Of nightfall dark, unless we soon 
 
 Depart for th' camp where we can dream 
 Of floating hours of song and mirth." 
 
 ''There are no hours of mirth for me; 
 
 No song can cheer my heart again; 
 The grave has won its victory, 
 
 And I am left to grief and pain." 
 Laurine replied, again: "Ah, me! 
 I saw the gore the lancet made ! 
 
 I saw the stream from out his side! 
 I saw him fall, and saw him 
 
 Laid upon the leaves. He gasp'd ! He died ! 
 Oh, Death! you have your victory !" 
 
 Grew pale and woeful. From his head 
 
 Old Archus took the fiHgree. 
 In accents tremulous, he said, 
 
 "I cannot read; the heart in me 
 Grows heavy laden with sorrow^ 
 At the pending fate I behold 
 
 In this book of events written, 
 Of lovely Laurine ; her lips cold 
 
 Are growing; her limbs seem smitten 
 
 With death; she says: "Yes, to-morrow!" 
 
 "What of to-morrow? Full of hope 
 
 Of expectations; of love; mirth 
 And joy to the world, but the scope 
 
 Of its bringing is but the birth 
 Of a change dreadful to Laurine; 
 She sinks upon the sward ; her lips 
 
 Part the words: "Yes ! he died for me." 
 Her hands falling limp as she sits 
 
 By his grave. Now I hear her say: 
 "To us there lies one night between." 
 
i86 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 NOTES ON LAURINE. 
 
 NOTE I, PAGE 154. LINE II. 
 
 "A tumulus, a man made mountain.'" 
 
 The mound builders have lett their traces from the clear, cold lakes of 
 the north, down through the Allegheny, Ohio, and Mississippi valleys, and 
 on through Mexico, Central America, Peru to the Pacitic ocean, leaving evi- 
 dences of a population dense in numbers and of an intelligent and moral or- 
 der of beings. When they lived, v\ho they were in race development, no one 
 knows Their time and history are hidden in midnight darkness. 
 
 Their mounds are not only found on the American continent, but in the 
 old world. Modern archaeologists place iheir era long anterior to the cities 
 of Baalbec, Palmyra and the chisled form of the Sphynx. These tumuli are 
 very numerous in western New York, West \'irginia and Ohio. The most 
 extensive one is found on (irave creek, twelve miles below Wheeling in West 
 Virginia. Tunneling into one, some parties found, lying in a square room, 
 the skeletons of a man and woman. They were not Indians, but evidently of 
 a superior race. The intellectual and moral regions were e.xceedingly well 
 developed Benevolence and reverence were large, with combativeness and 
 destructiveness but moderately prominent. Four bracelets, made of copper, 
 artistically designed, encircled the wrists of the corpses. The bracelets bear the 
 appearance of having been made of copper wire, in the same manner that jewel- 
 ers make thein at this day. In some of the tombs were engraved copper 
 plates, w'th the mastodon in harness, indicating, beyond question, that the 
 mound-builders and the mastodon inhabited this country at the same time; 
 and that mammoth be;ist had become domesticated and used in the service 
 of man, as the horse is used by him at this day. 
 
 NOTE 2, P.\GE 157. LI.NE 4 
 
 "Pray, good Archus, tell us how 
 You read these things?" 
 
 Every act done, every word spoken, every thought evolved from the brain, 
 are for eternity and will live forever. They all make an impression, which 
 may be read at any future time by the sensitive; on ihe same principle that 
 man can call up, from the recesses of the brain, things stored there by means 
 of that which we call memory. 
 
 P.sychometry is a fact. There are persons who can take an article from 
 a person, such as a lock of hair, handkerchief, a piece of jewelry or other 
 thing, and b\- becoming passive to the interior state, read the secrets of your 
 life, diagnose diseases and in many cases suggest proper remedies. 
 
 I have tested this power to such an extent, that 1 am well convinced it is 
 possessed by some. 1 once made an engagement with a lady for a reading. 
 I was instructed, when I came to see her to bring a little pebble, or other 
 thing, and hold it in my hand, without giving it to any one, until she received 
 it. I did so, and to my surprise, she told me where I picked up the stone, 
 the very way I went to get to her house, and everything I did while I had it in 
 my hand. Afterwards, while in my library. I gave her specimens of mineral 
 from my cabinet to read, with )ut her seeing them, which she did to my satis- 
 faction ; during the test, 1 had. among my selections, a large scale from an al- 
 ligator, which resembled a little thin stone, or shale from a brook; when I 
 placed it in her hand she almost went into convulsions, so great was the 
 shock to her sensitive nerves. Through this yet unknown sense, Archus, 
 which is an abbreviation of archaeology, was able to read the life of Laurine. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 187 
 
 JOHN DROWSY AND HIS DREAMS. 
 
 To feel the creep of gentle doze 
 Enfolding thee in balmy sleep, 
 
 Becoming lost in calm repose 
 As fading memory sweet 
 Withdraws from its honored seat. 
 
 And leaves within itself a blank; 
 Is true felicity. 
 
 To dream is when your reason sleeps 
 And when your wonder ranges, 
 
 When your imagination keeps 
 
 Your thoughts on curious changes, 
 And your mind is off its hinges, 
 
 And things impossible take rank 
 And guise of verity, 
 
 John Drowsy, in his lazy chair 
 Recumbent sat, while Betsy, fair 
 
 As the morning, and bright 
 
 As the jewels of night 
 That deck the dorse above. 
 Was in her routine of duty 
 Of household affairs. A beauty 
 
 She w^as not. Nor was love 
 Her chief attraction. To do her share 
 Was her ambition, her aim and care; 
 While Drowsy much preferred to dream 
 Than work and dinidge in the routine 
 
 Of family affairs. 
 
 This oft engendered jars. 
 And made life less felicitous 
 Than 'twould, had it not been for this. 
 
 "Now Betsy, you just go ahead, 
 But let me doze," John Drowsy said — 
 Adjusting himself to the word, 
 He grew limp ; and then was heard 
 
 The gibberish of a dreaming man. 
 He spoke of many passing scenes; 
 He saw a new world in his dreams, 
 With many beauties, many graces, 
 Many grand and pleasant places 
 
 He mentioned, as few dreamers can. 
 
1 88 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 He dreamed he saw his spirit go. 
 
 He said "that he must follow too," 
 
 He felt, he said, "as light as air" 
 
 And rising from his lazy chair 
 
 He winged his way on pinions high 
 
 Beyond the deep, blue, vaulted skv; 
 
 While neath he saw the whizzinef world 
 
 Sailing onward, wheeling, twirled. 
 
 On! On it flew through boundless space^ 
 
 And ever spinning in its race. 
 
 Till distance loaned to it, afar. 
 
 The diamond twinkle of a star 
 
 Set in the azure dorsy crest, 
 
 A floating orb among the rest. 
 
 Where rode the world in measured place r 
 
 Is now but found vast vacant space. 
 
 Inertia marked the silent deep. 
 
 And Quietude lay dead in sleep. 
 
 And standing in the boundless breach. 
 
 Beyond the weak, attractive reach 
 
 Of gravitation's gathering spell. 
 
 The Phasma of John Drowsy well 
 
 Would wot a quiet rest. 
 Within the azure curtained sky, 
 His spirit cast a wistful eve 
 
 To regions truly blest. 
 Away beyond his a?rial sphere 
 Glimpsed beauties, on his vision clear. 
 
 In a far region, new. 
 His awe-bewildered eye beheld 
 Scenes of beauty not excelled. 
 
 In vales of tinted hue. 
 Crept there a soft, beatic streamv 
 Adown a kill enameled green. 
 
 Beset with chrysolite. 
 On beds of furbished sands it ran 
 Through Alpine groves and moss}- glen,. 
 
 In crystal wavelets bright. 
 
 On either side soft tiny grass, 
 
 With ardent tinsels kissed the breeze, 
 
 And woodlands shed a sweet contrast. 
 The heart to gladden, eye to please. 
 
 While here and there, small winding brooks^ 
 Through verdant dells and flowers gay, 
 
Poems of Leisure. 189 
 
 From gushing springs to cr3Stal lakes, 
 
 With plaintive music wend their way, 
 To a clear and placid stream, 
 Which moves in union sweetly on, 
 While on its borders sportive birds 
 Enchant the scene with merry song. 
 
 The distance caught his furtive glance. 
 And bound his mind as in a trance, 
 
 At grandeurs centered there. 
 Successive chains of mountains wild 
 Waved their ambrosial locks and smiled 
 
 On vales of flowers fair, 
 
 Whose fragrance tilled the air 
 While giant trees, of living green, 
 Presented a transcendent scene. 
 
 Afar stretched out an ocean wide 
 Upon whose rolling gentle tide, 
 
 Scudding yachts were wot to play; 
 And on what seemed true ether rare, 
 Serenely rode great ships of air. 
 
 As grandly as ships at sea; 
 While, as upon a sea of glass, 
 A gentle folk would meet and pass 
 
 With civic courtesies. 
 Indicative of training fair. 
 And of manners debonair 
 
 For all emergencies. 
 
 John opened wide his eyes and exclaimed: 
 "What strange things and scenes ! I be blamed 
 
 If I don't find out 
 
 What is hereabout. 
 *'WhereamI? Who am I? Alive? 
 
 Or am I dead and dreaming? 
 
 Are these scenes, so pure and seeming, 
 But airy ghosts, and must I strive 
 
 To fathom the mystery 
 Of my being hither? 
 Or may I ask whether 
 
 I may beg their history?" 
 While musing thus, a damsel fair 
 With azure eyes and auburn hair. 
 
 Approached him with smiles 
 And said; 
 
190 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 "Dear Sir, or Madam, which you be, 
 It is of no concern to me, 
 As sex will lose their wiles 
 When dead. 
 This is, if you'll take my advice, 
 The empyrean of Paradise. 
 
 This is the land of the hereafter. 
 
 The is to be land. 
 The summer land that man is after, 
 
 The great future land. 
 The is to come land, where dead men go; 
 
 Land not found in Geography, 
 
 Described without authority 
 By certain dreamers, who do not know 
 
 Of what they affirm. 
 
 But soon you will learn 
 That this is the land of nowhere. 
 The fabled land of over there. 
 
 The Elysian shore 
 
 Where the saints evermore 
 Will sing of, but never find ; 
 The land that lies just behind 
 The grave. 
 
 The land over the river, 
 Which men will find never. 
 The land beyond the sky 
 To see which, 3^ou must die; 
 To find which your body must 
 Return to its mother dust. 
 
 The grave 
 Must drink you in, 
 And 3'ou must then 
 Return to the original elements 
 From whence you came, your bones, flesh, blood. 
 
 ligaments, 
 All of which compose your body 
 Must pass away; and nobody 
 
 You must become, 
 
 To make this home 
 The reward of an earth-spent life. 
 As you were not, before you had life. 
 When 3'ou lose life, vou will again not be, 
 
Poems of Leisxire. 191 
 
 Without life where is your futurity ? 
 
 Those trees with waving boughs, 
 
 Those grand and lofty mountains, 
 The river that by them flows, 
 
 Those clear and gfushincr fountains, 
 Those flowers that bloom in profusion. 
 Those canons deep. 
 
 That winding esplanade, 
 That golden fruit, 
 
 That cool inviting shade. 
 Are but an optical delusion. 
 
 Those things you see, you see not. 
 Those singing birds with wangs outspread, 
 Those floating clouds above your head. 
 That waving grass, that tiny grot. 
 Yon mountain in the distance 
 Have really no existence. 
 So is man when he gets here. 
 He is not here but some other where." 
 
 "Dead !" said John, with marked chagrin, 
 "Have I lost the world? How? When? 
 
 Please good angel take me back, 
 
 Show me again my humble cot. 
 My hardships w^hen upon the earth, 
 
 Seem pleasure to me now. 
 I wish not a new world, new birth; 
 
 I would return. But how? 
 From what I've heard, I can say. 
 This is not the place for me. 
 I'd rather be John Drowsy plain, 
 And be upon the earth again 
 With Betsy, corn bread, and hominy, 
 Than to be in this grand company 
 
 A heaven born neuter. 
 
 Oh, what a sad future ! 
 
 No sex here ! And this is heaven ! 
 
 Is here where all the good go? 
 No women. No men. Or even 
 
 A little boy or girl. No. 
 All neuters here. 
 Neuter men. Queer. 
 Neuter women. 
 
19- Poems oj .Leisure. 
 
 Neuter boys and girls, 
 
 All the same then? 
 How many such worlds, 
 I would like to know ? 
 \\\ rather stay below 
 
 With Betsy. 
 How I'd like to see her! 
 Poor Betsy I 
 Shall I never see you more? 
 I know you were a little cross 
 
 And often vexed me to mv sore 
 Discomtlture. But then I <ruess 
 I was sometimes to blame. 
 
 I was cross too. 
 
 Would often do 
 Things, and then for the same 
 
 Would blame vou. 
 
 Oh, Betsy! Bess! 
 
 I would confess 
 My errors, could I but see you again. 
 Oh ! The thought rives my heart with reeking pain 
 
 And bursts my head. 
 
 But, I am dead. 
 And should not feel the sadness of heart. 
 We were taught in life good friends must part: 
 
 But to meet again, 
 
 Where sorrow and pain, 
 
 Never cross the breast 
 
 In this region of rest. 
 
 There's one thing strange. I've often thought why 
 
 In this halcvon home in the sk}^ 
 
 In this beautiful land of the future 
 
 There's no men, women, girls or boys ; all neuter. 
 
 Well, 
 I'd like to know if it's so in hell? 
 If it is not I will go there 
 If I have to pay double fare. 
 
 What is heaven with all its joys 
 Without the cheer of girls and boys? 
 The thought of heaven would but perplex us, 
 Did it not have the love of the sexes. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 193 
 
 I'd rather see the flames of hell 
 
 And risk a scorching with them, 
 Than even in the highest heaven dwell 
 
 Without the smiles of woman. 
 
 I'd rather face a demon mad, 
 
 With forked tongue and hisses, 
 Than ever be an angel clad 
 
 To feast on neuter kisses. 
 
 ••Wake up. Drowsy," Betsy said 
 You're not in heaven, nor dead; 
 
 Not at all. 
 Nor are you up above the cloud, 
 You've been dreaming a little loud, 
 
 That is all." 
 
 SEANCE HYMN. 
 
 Oh, angels ! good angels, draw near, 
 
 And let us commune with you now; 
 Your presence impress on us here. 
 
 And fill all our hearts with a glow. 
 Oh, angels ! good angels, draw near, 
 
 And give us true light from above ; 
 Dispel from our bosoms all fear. 
 
 And make them replete with your love. 
 
 Good angels, come down from above. 
 
 And cheer up poor wayfaring man; 
 Guide us in the sphere we should move; 
 
 Give wisdom wherever you can. 
 Breathe justice and mercy on all ; 
 
 And drive from the bosom all strife ; 
 Crown Amity queen of us all, 
 
 With joy in the stream of our life. 
 
 When earth shall have lost all her charms. 
 
 And we are confined here no more. 
 Oh, let us find rest in your arms. 
 
 To wake on the ever green shore. 
 Oh, angels ! good angels, draw near, 
 
 And let us commune with 3'ou now ; 
 Your presence impress on us here. 
 
 And fill every heart with a glow. 
 
194 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 MUSIC IN THE WATERFALL. 
 
 There's strains of music soft and sweet 
 
 Inspired everywhere, — 
 In rivers, lakes and oceans deep 
 
 And in the balmy air. 
 There's music in the silver moon, 
 
 And in the stars above ; 
 There's music in the azure deep. 
 
 And in the w^ords of love. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Oh ! there's music in the waterfall, 
 
 Music in the trees ; 
 Music in the childhood lau""h, 
 
 When borne upon the breeze. 
 
 There's music in the lowing herd 
 
 As it is homeward bound; 
 There's music in the lambkin gay, 
 
 When skipping o'er the ground. 
 There's music in the golden grain 
 
 And in the stately tree; 
 There's music in the moaning wind 
 
 And in the humming bee. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 There's music in the laughing brook 
 
 As it goes purling on ; 
 There's music in the linnet's strain, 
 
 And in the robin's song. 
 There's music in the baying hound 
 
 When on the night wdnd borne ; 
 There's music in the winding of 
 
 The deep and mellow horn. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 195 
 
 THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME. 
 
 There is no place on earth like home 
 When it is true and cheerful, 
 
 But home has fled when one alone 
 Remains in grief and tearful. 
 
 There is no place on earth like home 
 When love and concord rule it, 
 
 But home has fled its sacred dome 
 When one, but one, can use it. 
 
 There is no place on earth like home 
 When converse social cheers it, 
 
 But home has lost the charms of home 
 When there's but one who shares it. 
 
 There is no place on earth like home 
 When smiles and pet words thrill it, 
 
 But home with all its sweets are flown 
 If there's but one to fill it. 
 
 There is no place on earth like home, 
 The gods, I ween, thus will it, 
 
 As well they will to make a home 
 There must be two to fill it. 
 
 WE ARE TO LIVE. 
 
 There is one joy, one jewel'd truth, 
 One fact that cheers both age and youth; 
 That brushes all the mists away. 
 And turns the night of death to day, 
 Disrobes the grave of all its gloom. 
 And glorifies the silent tomb ; 
 That one grand truth, the spirits give, 
 That we first die, that we may live. 
 
196 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 RUTH'S PLEDGE TO NAOMI. 
 
 I'll go where thou goest, and live where you li\'e ; 
 
 Thv kindred shall be as a kindred to me; 
 Thv country shall take, as my countr}- shall give: 
 
 Th}' God shall be my God ; m}^ faith is in thee ; 
 Thy smiles will enliven my heart all anew, 
 
 A sad thought of thine will throw gloom on mv mind 
 
 When thou wall have died, I will leave all behind. 
 And walk to the tomb and be buried with yovi. 
 
 FAREWELL OLD YEAR. 
 
 Farewell old year, thy fading face 
 Is ashen now with waning glories; 
 
 Thy course has been a valiant race 
 And aye, will live in golden stories. 
 
 Farewell old year, with memories fond. 
 We scan thy life with hearts of gladness: 
 
 But see thee pass to shades profound, 
 With feelings of the utmost sadness. 
 
 Farewell old year, and as we turn 
 
 From thy receding smiles and presence. 
 
 Our hearts with raptured feelings burn 
 
 Of mem'ries fraught with many pleasance. 
 
 Farewell old year, and we must part. 
 And, ah! we know it is forever, — 
 
 You burdened with the past, depart; 
 We bounding to the future, ever. 
 
 Farewell! and though it be farewell ! 
 
 Thy course is the eternal backward; 
 Th}' space alone recalls the knell; 
 
 Thy glories tend forever onward. 
 
 Sad are the accents of farewell. 
 
 When tears bedew the pure shrine of love ; 
 Sad are the thoughts that with us dw^ell, 
 
 When for aye we see our friends remove. 
 
 And when we say farewell, old year, 
 And close our eyes on thee forever. 
 
 Like parting friends it wrings a tear 
 
 From out our eves, we would not smother. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 197 
 
 Despite those tears, our hearts enfold 
 
 Sweet thoughts of friendships ties unbroken ; 
 
 Thoughts pure of love, as burnished gold, 
 Which brings us heaven as its token. 
 
 Farewell old year, but nay farewell. 
 To heart-lit joys and smiling graces; 
 
 Of joys that in our bosoms dwell, 
 Of kindly deeds and friendly faces. 
 
 FIFTY YEARS. 
 
 I stand upon the slant of life, 
 
 With half a century past, 
 And as I ken Time's backward flow, 
 
 I vainly try to grasp 
 
 The fifty next to come. 
 The fifty that have come and gone, 
 
 Have brought their smiles and sorrows; 
 Have brought their sunlight's golden beams, 
 
 As well their storms and showers 
 
 As they went gliding on. 
 
 As I look down those fifty years 
 
 That I have called my own, 
 I see so many acts unwise, 
 
 And so much folly done, 
 
 I sit me down and sigh ; 
 And yet I think Fve done some good 
 
 In those flown fifty years, 
 I've healed the wounds of many hearts, 
 
 And dried up many tears 
 
 As life went gliding by. 
 
 And something in those years have brought 
 
 A harvest of pleasure ; 
 And many hand-shakes dear to me — 
 
 Many joys I treasure 
 
 Deep in a tender heart. 
 Those years have found me many friends 
 
 Whose smiles have borne me on; 
 Who live within the fondest thoughts 
 
 That fruit the rushing throng 
 
 Of years as they depart. 
 
igS Poems of Leistire. 
 
 Oh, yes ! Those fifty fleeting years 
 Have been a school to me — 
 
 Have been so many teachers true. 
 That now I plainly see 
 What Time has helped me learn — 
 
 And Time is a teacher trite and true 
 That will withstand the test — 
 
 It taught me this: Of treasures won^ 
 That smiles will pav the best 
 And bring the best return. 
 May 26, 1884. 
 
 TWENTY YEARS OF VICE.* 
 
 Aristo was an artist, and so deft was he, as such,. 
 That nature seemd to smile anew at his most skilful touch ; 
 Yet, with his skill in paints, he wore a heav}- hanging eye. 
 Portraying that his heart suppressed a deep and hidden sigh. 
 
 To drive the mien of gloom awa3% that wrestled with his souL 
 He sought, within a busy mart, to take an idle stroll; 
 When, gazing through the broad highway, his eyes, with 
 
 gleam of joy. 
 Fell on a most angelic form, a blooming little boy. 
 
 The lad so charm 'd his swelling heart, that he forgot his woe. 
 And felt he had a world of bliss within his studio, 
 If he could get a sitting from the bo}^ so fair and gay, 
 That sported such a comely face, so innocent at play. 
 
 "My little man, I would delight to paint your picture free, 
 If you will stop your play awhile, and take a walk with me, 
 To where my studio is found, a neat and cosy place, 
 Where I can rightly use my brush, to paint your pretty face."" 
 
 Hand in hand they walked along, the child as if on duty, 
 Not dreaming that he was, himself, the empire of beauty; 
 The child beheld so many things, in the room, beguiling. 
 But most surprised when he saw himself on canvas smiling. 
 
 So perfect was this child of bliss, upon the canvas born. 
 
 The artist placed it where his eyes could see it night and 
 morn ; 
 
 And when his spirits drooped, in gloom, he sought this pic- 
 ture fair, 
 
 Whose face of innocence, sublime, dispelled all gloom and 
 care. 
 
Poems of Leisure. ion 
 
 Years came and went, and in their course, brought riches 
 
 and renown 
 To the artist, who was inspired to keep all feelings down, 
 That would conduce to thoughts impure by lookino- at the 
 
 face 
 Of this fair child of innocence, which did his heart enchase. 
 He wondered, often, what had become of that once hand- 
 some boy. 
 Whether he had grown up to shame, or to his friends a joy. 
 One day, while walking down the street, he saw a man forlorn, 
 Whose mien was so forbidding that the dogs passed by in 
 
 scorn. 
 The artist thought the subject was so. lorn in the extreme, 
 He'd take him to his studio and sketch a beggar scene. 
 The pose was through — the artist saw, the child, the beggar 
 
 eyeing, 
 Then turned he from the picture, with his eyes suffused 
 
 with crying. 
 "Oh! chide me not, old artist now," the beggar said, and 
 
 sobbed, 
 *'The smile that parts that glowing face, long years ago, I 
 
 robb'd — 
 'Twas twenty years ago when I came here, at your advice, 
 A smiling child, now here again, with twenty years of vice." 
 *The idea was taken from a story in a Catholic Reader. 
 
 THE GODS. 
 
 Men think, labor, scheme, contend, 
 
 Pray, sing and fight for gods unknown ; 
 When all is o'er, their achievements end, 
 
 In dreamless silence in the tomb. 
 Whose tongueless eloquence appeal 
 
 In solemn accents low, sublime. 
 For man to guard his highest weal 
 
 And surcease war for gods divine. 
 For gods and ghosts and sprites unseen. 
 
 Are but the myths of shadows shed. 
 And when you die for them, I ween. 
 
 You'll find that they like you are dead. 
 Gods come and go, and pass away, 
 
 As seen by mouldering temples thick. 
 And those whose fanes are seen to-day, 
 
 Are either dead or very sick. 
 
200 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 All life is one unfathomed span — 
 
 A constant flow, through matter borne 
 
 With no Causation's moving plan 
 Superior to crude matter shown. 
 
 Forms and expressions come and go; 
 
 Worlds form, dissolve and pass away. 
 But life is ever in its flow; 
 
 It knows no birth and no decay. 
 
 Life is the only thing that lives, 
 
 Its flow is its eternal noon; 
 It spans the two eternities, 
 
 While rev'ling in its mornincr bloom. 
 
 Time, matter, space, the trinity 
 
 Whose presence boundless force traverse, 
 
 Which form'd that patent unity. 
 The vast, the formless universe, 
 
 W^hen Time, in its infinitude. 
 
 Shall wear an old and furrowed brow, 
 
 Life will through all its certitude. 
 
 Have but one throbbing, pregnant now. 
 
 Life knows no past, no future own. 
 The present is its only meed; 
 
 No time but now was ever known. 
 The now will ever now succeed. 
 
 The past, with all its its fruits has flown, 
 The future has not 3^et arrived, 
 
 The pregnant now is all we own, 
 It is the all of either side. 
 
 Life like Pegasus flying on 
 
 From place to place, from town to town. 
 Well freighted with a human throng 
 
 Of existence. On, ever on. 
 
 With even pace this life-fraught car 
 Bears all along to one grand goal, 
 
 On through a flight that leads afar, 
 The longing of the human soul. 
 
 It recks not where, but speeds away. 
 On th' win<rs of Time not to return — 
 
Poems of Leisure. 201 
 
 It bears all to one destiny, 
 
 One pending fate, one common bourne. 
 
 No special car moves in this train, 
 
 No seats reserved for sect, or clan, 
 Here all are on one level plain. 
 
 All travel here as fellowman. 
 
 YOSEMITE. 
 
 Word pictures must fail, when the Yosemite speaks. 
 Its huge colonades and high-reaching peaks, 
 Its grandeur and beauty of feature sublime, 
 Send echoing back the chaste rhythms of time. 
 
 Frill'd with great carvings, on its adamant face, 
 Whose wrinkles and fissures Time only can trace, 
 All cleft from rock mountains, by waters entwirl'd, 
 The acme of beauty and awe of the world. 
 
 The waters come down with a plunge and a leap. 
 From rifts in the sky, to a gnarl'd yawning deep, 
 A huge granite basin, where it writhes and boils, 
 Girates and contorts, like a demon in toils. 
 
 Drunk on the charms of the amethyst there. 
 Infusing its hue in the diamond-decked air. 
 Whose face is surcharged with a crysolite trail, 
 Enwoofed with the gauze of an aqueous veil. 
 
 Hung up and let down with a capricious will, 
 An artist would wist, by the tints of the kill, 
 So deftly arranged, with blendings so rare. 
 That the limner of heav'n had his studio there. 
 
 Deep drapery the face of the pyramid shrouds, 
 Festoon'd and entwin'd to the Rest of the Clouds; 
 Pearl wreathed and inlac'd with silver tipp'd spray, 
 Bedighted with diamonds, in matchless display. 
 
 Old Cathedral grand, in deep gloom towers there, 
 Where Silence at vespers retires for prayer; 
 And awe fills the breast, at manifold pages, 
 Of Nature revealed, through this book of ages. 
 
 Cholock is famed for its broken up mountains, 
 Its wilder cascades and arrow jet fountains, 
 
202 Poc?)is of Leisure. 
 
 Its cataracts mad and its carved gorges deep, 
 
 That dash down the streamlets, from steep upon steep. 
 
 Stand there, the rock walls, three thousand feet high. 
 And domes, steep, upreaching, which dazzle the eye; 
 Where Canopah sits, with an adamant will, 
 And Tusayac breaks the smooth glide of the kill. 
 
 There Merced tumbles down, with a dash and a roar. 
 Then wends its way off, through a fern cover' d tloor, 
 And purls as it goes. As the Awanee leaps. 
 For the tongue to be still, while Yosemite speaks. 
 
 RELIGIOUS WARS. 
 
 If a tower was built, for each one that had sank, ( i ) 
 
 In death from the cause of reli"fion ; 
 There would not be room, on the valley or bank, 
 
 To give them a place for erection. 
 
 If the veins that have bled, since the crusades began, 
 
 Were permitted to flow in one stream, 
 There would be such a flood at thy instance, Oh, man ! 
 
 That the world hath not heretofore seen. 
 
 If the groans of the dving, were blended in one. 
 
 It would make such a dolorous sound. 
 That all space would be shook, from the earth to the sun, 
 
 Like an earthquake con\'ulsing the ground. 
 
 If all of the treasures, inhumanelv spent. 
 
 Had been placed to relieve the distress'd, 
 The world would to-day, wear a smile of content. 
 
 And feel that god's blessings had bless' d. 
 
 But the record of blood, shed in Palestine old, 
 
 Is a record that shocks our senses ; 
 The records, the tenth of which never was told 
 
 And never return'd recompenses. 
 
 The stories are those of black carnaije and crime: 
 
 c> 
 
 To capture a long vacated tomb; 
 Where crimes were forgiven in advance of the tiiue. 
 To illumine fair heaven with gloom. 
 
 Those crimes are embellish'd in history and song, 
 Farther back than at )oshua"s light; 
 
Poems of Leisure. 203 
 
 When the moon stood still, o'er the vale Ajalon, 
 And the sun over Gibeon's site. 
 
 Those wars have drap'd all the ages in shame, 
 
 And smote with a blightening rod, 
 The face of the land with bt)th rapine and flame, 
 
 For the glory of one common god. ( 2) 
 
 At the wage of each battle the caliph would pray 
 
 God that success, his arms might betide; 
 The pope to the same Aba Father would say: 
 
 "Help us slaughter the vile other side." 
 
 Thus for years, one hundred and seventy-seven, (3) 
 Both sides, for aid, to the same god appeal'd; 
 
 Both slaughtered to people, alike, the same heaven, — 
 x\nd fought for the same bible reveal' d. 
 
 NOTE I . 
 
 "What is thit? Town of Rimleh, birthplace, re^^idence and the tomb 
 of Samuel, the glorious prophet. Near by tower of forty martyrs, called be- 
 cause that number of disciples perished there for Christ's sake; but if towers 
 had been built for all those who in the time of wars as in the time of peace 
 have fallen on this road during the ages past, you might almost walk on tur- 
 rets from Joppa to Jerusalem." -De Witt Tamage, in his sermon on the Land 
 of Palestine, Oct. 6th, 1890. 
 
 NOTE 2. 
 "For the glory of one common god." 
 The Mohammedans, like the Christians, take the bible as the root of their 
 religion. They both believe in the Jehovah of the Jews and in the New tes- 
 tament, but differ as to the Koran. The Koran teaches that "God is God 
 and Mohammed is his prophet. This pretense the Christians deny, hence their 
 mutual hatred and slaughter. 
 
 NOTE 3. 
 
 "Thus for years, one hundred and seventy-seven." 
 The Caliph Omar having taken Jerusalem, A. D. 637. the places held 
 most sacred to the christians passed to the control of the Musselmen. The 
 christians were allowed, by paying a small tax, to visit the city of Jerusalem, 
 the holy sepulchre and the church of the resurrection. 
 
 In the loth century, the Fatimite Caliphs, under their control of affairs, 
 the christians were maltreated. Their pilgrimages were interfered with, and 
 many of the holy places were defaced. These outrages greatly excited the 
 christians of Europe, who were at a very low standard of enlightenment at 
 the time, and a crusade was inaugurated by Peter the Hermit and started for 
 the Holy Land in the spring 1096. There were eight crusades in all; the 
 last one ending with the defeat of the army of Prince Edward of England in 
 the year 1271. Thus leaving Jerusalem still in the hands of the Turks, where 
 it is to-day. 
 
204 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 SAVE YOUR GOLD. 
 
 Let go of gold I Let go of gold ! 
 
 I hear it sung by young and old; 
 
 I hear it from the pulpit cold. 
 Let go of gold ! Let go of gold ! 
 
 The beggar mouths it in the streets. 
 Then asks for alms from all he meets: 
 The spendthrift sows it wide and far, 
 As though it is unworth a care ; 
 The crank, whose fam'ly is in want. 
 Knows how to run the government; 
 And from his foolish hps we're told 
 The rich should share with him their gold. 
 
 But when they have grown gray and old. 
 With not a shelter from the cold; 
 They then regret the end foretold, 
 Of those who sacrifice their gold. 
 
 If you have doubts, what vou should do. 
 
 iVsk of the child without a shoe ; 
 
 Ask of the mother's tearful eves; 
 
 Ask of the infant's starving cries; 
 
 Ask of the toiler, dav by day. 
 
 Who works and groans on scanty pay; 
 
 Ask of the girls who run the loom: 
 
 Ask of the man, whose heart of gloom. 
 
 Can know not how the cinist of bread 
 
 Can feed the mouths that must be fed ; 
 
 Ask of the old man, what to save. 
 
 As he goes, ragged, to the grave: 
 
 They all will say, in accents bold, 
 
 To work, while voung, and save vour gold. 
 
 'TIS FOUR O'CLOCK. 
 
 [Reply to "Lines'" written on the anniversary of a marriage.] 
 TO H. 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, the brazen bell 
 
 Rings out upon the fretful air. 
 And by its golden intones tell 
 
 When thee, m^y dear, strong, hale and fair 
 Became my wife, five years ago. 
 
Poems of Leisure. 205 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, and well my mind, 
 
 A record of thy beaming eyes 
 And precious self keeps, when we timed 
 
 The hour and the nuptial ties 
 Made thee my wife, five years ago. 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, with heart on fire, 
 Still with love; would that we invade 
 
 That shrine again that will inspire 
 
 Our hearts so true, when we were made 
 
 Husband and wife, five years ago. 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, five years have passed, 
 Thy cheeks are wan, thy health hath flown, 
 
 And yet it is my heaven's task 
 
 To love thee more than I dared own. 
 
 When made my wife, five years ago. 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, short seems the time, 
 When hand in hand and heart in heart, 
 
 I vowing thine, thou vowing mine, 
 
 And we assumed that hallowed part — 
 
 Husband and wife, five years ago. 
 
 'Tis four o'clock, a joyous hour, 
 
 When my heart plim'd with love for thee 
 And thine became the plighted power 
 
 To bless me through eternity; 
 My little wife, five years ago. 
 December 31, 1890. 
 
 THE SUNNY SOUTH. 
 
 The sunny south! the sunny south ! the glory of the day; 
 
 The meed of true devotion, the grandest in display. 
 
 Where men of nerve are born, to wield the power great and 
 
 grand ; 
 Where ladies wear the graces of a proud and favor' d land ; 
 Where liberty is cradled in the heart of every one. 
 And valor, as an heirloom, sent from father to each son. 
 
 The sunny south! the sunny south! thy fame shall still arise. 
 The pride of every valiant son, where love of country lies: 
 The field of many battle scars, where valor was defied. 
 Where sank in death contending foes, that sleep now, side 
 by side : 
 
2o6 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 Who claim alike a tear of grief, that war of sorrow wrung; 
 Who bare their breasts a targe to each, but sank in death 
 
 as one. 
 The sunny south! the sunny south! while ages come and go, 
 Thy sons will wear the pride of men, 'mid friends or chaff- 
 ing foe ; 
 With nerves of steel and loyal aim, thine is their common cause, 
 Thy meed is what they most esteem, with rules of right, 
 
 and laws, 
 That bear alike on all concerned, be they the weak or strong, 
 That all may feel a fitting pride in one great gonfalon. 
 
 A TEMPERANCE OATH. 
 
 I swear! 
 By all the unwept, marshal'd dead, 
 By all the hearts that rum has bled, 
 By all the wealth that vice consumes. 
 By all who die of whisky fumes. 
 By all the paupers in the land, 
 By all the days we have been damn'd, 
 By all the man-destroying gnomes, 
 By all the scattered, bleaching bones. 
 Which have, for ages past, been strown, 
 Before the gate of manhood's throne; 
 By all the crimes, by all the deeds, 
 By all the dens that whisky feeds ; 
 By all the orphans and their cries. 
 By all the woe beneath the skies; 
 By all the guilt, where misery reigns. 
 By all the blood that drench the plains ; 
 Besmear the hills, enrich the vales, 
 By all the anguish crime entails; 
 By all the demons chained in hell. 
 By all the loathsome things that dwell 
 Beneath the eye of guilt and shame, 
 By all the devils, by the name 
 Of all the imps that should be damn'd, 
 And stricken from this rum-curs'd land. 
 
 I swear ! 
 That I will strive, do all I can, 
 To kill this common foe of man. 
 And hurl him from his lofty state, 
 To feel its sting — a felon's fate. 
 
Poems of Leisure. ■ ' 
 
 ANTIETAM. 
 
 As long as courage has a place 
 Within the heart, the human race, 
 Admire will, the dauntless men 
 Who battled at Antietam. 
 
 Both armies knew their chieftains well, 
 
 And both surg'd in the battle fell; 
 
 Rang out the din of war on high ; 
 
 Dense clouds of smoke begrim'd the sky. 
 
 Death! grim and anger'd vied to reign; 
 
 And leap'd the hot and angry flame; 
 
 As rang the cannon's sullen sound 
 
 That arch'd the heavens; shook the ground. 
 
 All through the valleys, hills and plain. 
 
 The wound with the nerveless slain 
 
 Gave evidence, that shot and shell, 
 
 Were doing but their work too well. 
 
 And still the rush and steady tread, 
 
 Reck'd not the storm of raining lead. 
 
 But in the face of foemen strong, 
 
 Each foeman pressed the battle on. 
 
 'Mid routs and shouts of victory, 
 
 The dust and smoke enwrapp'd the sky 
 
 In sable folds, grim streaked with red 
 
 By shooting flames that illum'd the bed 
 
 Where Carnage blew his stifling breath 
 
 And foes, companion'd, lay in death. 
 
 There rife and terror seemed to reign. 
 
 The missiles flew and leaped the flame, 
 
 Yet foemen, dauntless moved ahead. 
 
 Amid the storm of raining lead. 
 
 Hand to hand to death contended. 
 
 In maddened streams their blood was blended. 
 
 And many sank without a groan. 
 
 But yet the maddened storm went on. 
 
 Daunting not at danger rife, 
 
 Weighing not the chance of Hfe ; 
 
 Charges received and charges made, 
 
 Where dead and dying soldiers laid 
 
 In heaps, there lying course by course. 
 
 As winnowed in a ghastly corse. 
 
 A yell, a shout, — redoubled charge. 
 
2o8 Poems of Leisure. 
 
 As thousands bore their breasts a targe. 
 A volley rang along the plain, 
 And fell a thousand warriors slain; 
 A thousand warriors bowed the head; 
 A thousand numbered with the dead; 
 Depleted ranks thev heeded not. 
 Surged the living and still they fought, 
 Beneath the waving stars and bars, 
 And others fought beneath the stars, 
 There, proudly waving overhead, 
 Shedding luster on the dead. 
 Who died as Union soldiers brave, 
 That still their country's flag might wave; 
 To kiss the breeze so gallantly. 
 That fans the land of liberty. 
 Exhausted both the armies then, 
 And peace arose on Antietam. 
 
2IO Poems of Leisure 
 
 ^+>-CONTENTS. 
 
 '•Farewell to the Bar." 4 
 
 '•The Cascade." 7-8 
 
 "Hester and Philo." 9-43 
 
 '•An Honest Prayer." 44-45 
 
 "Boreas." 45-46 
 
 "Selfishness." 46-47 
 
 "The Gods of Old." 47-48 
 
 '•Thomas Paine." 4^^-49 
 
 "To MoUie." 49 
 
 "Hypatia" 50 
 
 "Witten's Yeast is Rising." 50-51 
 
 "A Measure of Right." 51-52 
 
 "Read Their Fate Between the Lines." 52-53 
 
 "The Sprite of Glen Boken." 54-58 
 
 "The Infinitudes." 59-60 
 
 "Our Mother Has Left Us." , 61-62 
 
 "Rational Thanksgiving." 63-66 
 
 "A Song to Bacchus." 67 
 
 "A Lawyer's Story." 68-69 
 
 "The Sphinx." 69-70 
 
 "The Earth." 71-75 
 
 "The Rainbow." ...75 
 
 "The Butterfly." _ 76 
 
 ' 'The Moon. ' ' ^^ 
 
 ' 'A Girl of Nature. " T] 
 
 "The First Coo." 78 
 
 "Morn." - 78 
 
 "Birds." 78 
 
 "Where is Heaven?" _ - 79 
 
 "The Sunset of Life." 80 
 
 "Phantasmagoria of the gods." 81-122 
 
 "Early Poems." 123-127 
 
 "A Love Dream." 128-131 
 
 "Alone. ' ' 132 
 
 "Time." 133 
 
 "No Religion There." i33-i34 
 
 "Truth." 135 
 
 "Awake! My Heart." 135-136 
 
 "Destiny." 137 
 
 "My Will." 137-138 
 
 "The Phantom." 138 
 
 "Silence . ' ' 139 
 
 "To Lena." : .140-141 
 
 ' 'An Epigram . " 1 4 r 
 
 "Friendship. ' ' 142 
 
 "Loquillin." 142-146 
 
 "Runa Lanier." — ...146-153 
 
 " Laurine. " - 154-186 
 
 "John Drowsy and his Dream." '. 187-193 
 
 "Seance Hymn." 193 
 
 "Music in the Waterfall." 195 
 
Poems of Incisure. 
 
 211 
 
 "There is no Place Like Home.'' loc 
 
 "We are to Live." loc 
 
 "Ruth's Pledge to Naomi." log 
 
 "Farewell to the Old Year." jog 
 
 "Fifty Years." ,07 
 
 "Twenty Years of Vice." log 
 
 "The Gods." loo 
 
 "Life." 200 
 
 "Y'osemite." 201 
 
 "Religious Wars." 202-203 
 
 "Save Your Gold." 204 
 
 " 'Tis Four O'clock." 204 
 
 "The Sunny South." 205 
 
 "A Temperance Oath." 206 
 
 "Anteitam." 207-208