QJartipIl HttioBraity Slibrary Jlttfsra. N«n ^orfe BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis bool< is in tile Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021977735 LATER Lays and Lyrics MT. H. C. HOSMER/' AUTHOR OF YONNONDIO, THE MONTHS, LEGENDS OF THE SENEGAS, BIRD-NOTES, ETC. ROCHESTER, N. Y. D. M. DEWEY, 1873- K.S^^llU Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, By D. M. DEWEY, in the oflice of the Librarian of Congress^ at Washington CONTENTS. ' Sonnet Dedicatory, Queen of the Blossoms, LATER LAYS. Agricultural Ode, E A Dream of the Sea, 12 The Two Gates, ... M Spirit Interview.s, . i£ March View from Hillside, li Halloween, 2C The Markham Elm, 2; Nook of Beauty, 2C Napoleon Crossino Mount St. Bernard, 2e Battle of Temperance, 25 VVintemoyeh, 3> June Dying, •.. ii Floral Gifts, 35 Summer Rain, 31 September Idyl, 35 November, 42 A Fall Lyric, • 43 To Indian River, 4i The Thousand Isles, 45 Verses for Easter, SI Hymn to the Virgin, '54 God's Tent, Mou^iT of Vision, S6 WAR LYRICS. Annus Mirabilis, 61 Our Banner, 6S Martial Music, • 7c Battle Call, 72 Ode, 74 Shenandoah Valley, 77 Tournament of Death, 75 Song, . 82 Our Loyal Dead, . 84 Decoration Day, . . 87 BITTER MEMORIES. My Study, ... A Lament, — Written at Sea, epecedium, ... . • My Old Comrade, . Wayside Rhymes, . ... The Mother's Appeal, . Lines Written in Dejection, near " Willow Mount,' Avon, N. Y Heretofore, ... New Year Musings, CYPRESS LEAVES. The Trance, ... Tribute, .... Dale Cemetery, at Sing Sing, Memorial Lines, Burial of Birdie, Called Away, Memorial Lines, A Remembrance, The Anniversary, The Dying Saint, SONGS AND BALLADS. The Pine, . . ... What I Would Be, Blue-Eyed Florence, Things Coming, Things Flying, Tasso's Farewell, Song, JMy Daughters, . A Friend's Wishes, An ^olian Melody, Greeting to Mary, . . . . My Scottish Beauties, . ... Snow Flake and Onnolee, " Insula Sanctorum," Longing for Summer, ... Song, . . Easter Carol, Alone, ... .... To Stella in Heaven, Jane, . . . . . SONNET DEDICATORY. BY PERMISSION OF D. M. D. Friend of the poet ! after silence long, And sad experience in the war of life — Scattered his household gods, and worn with strife He brings fresh offerings from the land of song. Love for the Valley of the Genesee, Of old the red man's favorite domain Inspired in youth a high heroic strain That found a generous publisher in thee. Thy word« of kind encouragement and praise After the lapse of many weary years, Ring like remembered music in his ears, And back throng visions of romantic days : — Oh ! blame him not if memory summon tears While he inscribes to thee his "Later Lays." w. H. c. H Dated Rose Lawn, Avon, July I2th, 1872. QUEEN OF THE BLOSSOMS. There was strife among the lilies, While throbbed each nectared cell ; There was strife among the roses, Each claimed to be the belle ; The winds that came to woo them Loved all of them so well, They could not, with their airy tongues. Who was the queenliest tell. But Onnolee, the cherub. Arrayed in purest white. Burst, like a heavenly vision. Upon the raptured sight ; Her cheeks outblushed the roses, The lilies were less bright ; Her eyes like stars when cloudless Is June's delicious night. Sylphs of the laughing summer Danced near her on the green — The bob-o'-link and oriole. With breast of golden sheen ; And flashing by, with Iris dyes. The humming-birds were seen. While every blossom found a tongue. And cried — "Behold our queen ! " L^aTE^il Tjj3jrs. AGRICULTURAL ODE. MOTHER of Arts ! that tilleth soil On prairie wide, and upland lea " Thy mercies, corn and wine, and oil," The tribes of men receive from thee. II. Towns that are dotting ocean's shore, The mountain-slope, and inland vale. Could flourish populous no more. If thy full granaries should fail. III. States would decay ; no longer thrive If God withheld .thy golden shower ; And nations that wax great derive From thee the sinews of their power. IV. Not gold alone : for those that make The desert blossom like the rose Are first Oppression's yoke to break. And with proud Wrong in conflict close. V. Roused like the wintry storm when bow The kingly oaks beneath its might. Our rustic fathers left the plow, And met on Bunker's awful height. Later Lays. VI. While sternly marshalled there in arms, To drive the fell invader back, Love for their families and farms Nerved them to brave the fierce attack. VII. A " maranatha " on the foe Their musketry in thunder pealed, While ranks in crimson swaths lay low. And battle's cloud the sun concealed. VIII. Their deeds on that momentous day. In lines of light are written down To cheer our race when thrown away, Like toys, are mitre, crosier, crown. IX. When Freedom in the mart is found The phantom of a sounding name. Nursed by bold tillers of the ground Is a pure, patriotic flame. X. For them is traced a liberal creed In Nature's everlasting tome, And " books in running brooks " they read That knit their hearts to hearth and home. XI. Old Art of Husbandry ! that gave To mortals occupation first, Thy ministry alone could save When fearfully the land was cursed. Agricultural Ode. XII. Gray Eld, and wives and little ones Within the tents of Peace were fed, When earned by sweat-drops of thy sons, Was man's primeval blessing — bread. XIII. Sad exiles from their garden fair. While flashed behind the flaming sword, Our great First Parents did not dare To dream of Paradise restored. XIV. But Earth can boast of many a spot Redeemed by industry and skill From wastes where roses harbored not, That have a smile of Eden still. XV. Grenada, in romantic Spain, Was prosperous under Moorish sway ; Rude hill side, and the barren plain Soon wore the livery of May. XVI. Great Abderahmen, famed in song. And styled '^magnificent,^'' would toil Where golden Darro rolled along Laving the renovated soil. XVII. Well sung the laureled bards of Rome, That rural life promoted health, And Ceres, Queen of Harvest-Home, Was mother of the God of Wealth. Later Lays. XVIII. Her countless banks will never fail, Their bases Earth from whence we sprung, And Commerce to the salt-sea gale At her command the flag outflung. XIX. Far from the city's stifling heat Chief, poet, orator and sage To rural villas would retreat, And delve in Rome's Augustan Age. XX. There, like the singing Lark of Ayr, The plow great master spirits held. Drank rapture from the scenery fair. And founts that at their feet outwelled. XXI. There Maro wooed, enwreathed with bays. The Rural Muse with art divine, And Flaccus warbled lyric lays Rich as his own Falernian wine. XXII. There Cincinnatus threw aside His rustic garb, and drew the blade When rolled the Volscian battle tide. And Conscript Fathers sat dismayed ; XXIII. And then in his triumphal hour, When the good fight was fought and won. Resigned was dictatorial power By Glory's memorable son. Agricultural Ode. XXIV. The Guardian of a rescued land Found quiet on Mount Vernon's farm When sheathed his conquering battle-brand, And hushed the drum-beat of alarm. XXV. Alas ! that fratricidal blood Pollutes the land that holds his bones, While, sitting by Potomac's flood. The Gemus of Columbia moans ! XXVI. With Labor's moisture on the brow Kings turned the globe, once Israel's own, And on Elijah, at the plow, The mantle of the Seer was thrown. XXVII. What story of the Golden Age, In tenderness, descriptive truth. Compares with that inspired page That tells us of the gleaner — Ruth ? XXVIII. And imagery that most delights, The Past unfolding to our view, The Royal Bard from rural sights. And pastoral scenes of beauty drew. XXIX. " The cattle on a thousand hills " In Palestine we see again ; Chime with his verse the singing rills, " The early, and the latter rain." lo Later Lays. Theme for his minstrelsy divine Were brooks through fertile field that ran " The bread that strengthens, and the wine That maketh glad the heart of man." XXXI. In cities where the mildewed den Of Want yawns near the halls of Pride Are cradeled not illustrious men To duty true, in danger tried* XXXII. In haunts remote from scenes like these Are nobler spirits nursed, that tower Like pines above the smaller trees, Unwarped by creed, unspoiled by power. XXXIII. Far from the tumult of the town Loved mighty Webster to retire. And seek, forgetful of renown, Fields where he labored with his sire : XXXIV. Or, freed from care, he loved to dwell At Marshfield, by the sounding main. Where low of kine and pastoral bell Disposed to calm his troubled brain. XXXV. And Clay, in country costume drest. Sick of Corruption's wild misrule. On his plantation in the West, Felt like an urchin loosed from school : Agricultural Ode. n XXXVI. And Wright, stern Cato of the State, Whose honored grave is holy ground, Towered in the Hall of high debate. With face and hands by toil embrowned. xxxvii.- Well were these famous men aware That impulse Agriculture gave, To human progress everywhere. On solid land and rolling wave. XXXVIII. The bellows would no longer blow. The hammer clash, the anvil ring, If Culture should forget to sow. And reap the promise of the spring. XXXIX. Invention baffled would despond, Cease progress in Mechanic -Art, And Genius drop the wizard wand That governs thought, controls the heart. XL. Ships would lie rotting in the bay, In thoroughfares the grass upgrow, And, lords of mansions in decay. Reign Famine, Pestilence and Woe. XLI. What spectacle more dread is found From Polar regions to the Line, Than minds inactive and unsound. In frames of premature decline. Later Lays. XLII. Mother of Learning — Labor Free ! If ripens into fruit tlie flower, Such ruins here he will not see, But grandest types of human power : — XLIII. And, here, proud nursery of men ! While rivers flow and mountains stand. May issues of the tongue and pen Keep pace with issues of the hand. A DREAM OF THE SEA. Stella ! while sleeping, I beheld the sea. Raging and heaving with convulsive throes, Unveil its depths and mysteries to me : — The rock of coral like a peak arose. Whose summit in the purple twilight glows : — So startling were the echoes of the caves, Within each vein the ruddy current froze — The fearful conflict of the winds and waves Methought awoke the dead in their forgotten graves A Dream of the Sea. 13 The firmament was darkened like a pall, And wore a look of terrible despair ; The nymph of ocean left her sparry hall, And wildly shook her green, unbraided hair. Unearthly music floated on the air In pauses of the storm, a dirge-like sound ! The blue shark glided from his watery lair, Gorged with a meal upon the ghastly drowned, And pathway by his side the fearful sword-fish found. III. Mine eye beheld forgotten works of Art, And heaps of gleaming perils and yellow ore ; The costly exports of the busy mart. And wealth untold bestrewed old Ocean's floor: Where were the barks that all these treasures bore ? Around they lay bereft of mast and sail, To ride the deep in majesty no more — Defiance bidding to the angry gale, While timid stand the brave, the manly cheeks grow pale. IV. The fierce and huge leviathan, methought. Affrighted by the elemental war. With flashing fin the upper waters sought ; To light the scene shot forth no twinkling star. Nor did the bright sun in his flaming car On the roused deep his burning glances throw : Black thunder clouds growled loudly, and the glare Of red winged lightning to the crumbling snow That capt the surges gave intolerable glow. 14 Later Lays. V. Beneath the tide were visible far down The fallen thrones and palaces of old ; Symbol of buried power, and ancient crown A skull encircled with its tarnished gold : The wave-washed relics of the wise and bold In many a hollow cavern lay unwept. And darkly hid within the tarry fold The hapless maid and youthful lover slept, While over them the sea like some proud victor swept VI. Spars, riven timbers, and the broken mast The tide retreating left upon the strand ; Then at my feet inroUing waters cast My wife — the sea weed in her rigid hand : Methought her grave I dug within the sand, Shrouding the precious relics in my cloak. But when to view were lost those features bland^ In mournful tone the passing spirit spoke — " Farewell for evermore ! ^^ — I trembled anH awoke New York, 1855. THE TWO GATES. Open in this world of sin, Are two gates to enter in ; Scenes unknown to mortal view, Greet the pilgrim passing through. 7 he Two Gates. 15 One, the ivory gate of dreams, Glows with rich, Elysian gleams ; But more lustrous to behold. Is the other gate of gold. When the honey-dew of rest, Falls upon the troubled breast, Through the former, open wide. Oh ! how sweet in soul to glide "! O'er its threshold, as we pass, Seen, as in Agrippa's glass. Are, the dead of long-ago. Moving in procession slow. Clearly are their forms defined Round us are their arms entwined. And the heart, long, sad rejoices, Hearing old, familiar voices. Wandering, there, the soul explores Picturesque, enchanted shores ; Halls of fantasy where reign Kings, discrowned on earth, again. Dried would be a fount of bliss, I'll be borne a world like this. Should the pilgrim seek in vain Entrance through that gate to gain. Brighter than sun, moon or star, Stands the golden gate ajar ; Through it, to the Angel-Land, Love and faith walk hand in hand. Fount of its effulgent blaze, Is the " Ancient One of Days ! " And a host of minstrels crowned, Flood celestial air with sound. 1 6 Later Lays. Those who enter in, no more Sorrow on Time's crumbling shore- Lost to us although we yearn, Months and years, for their return. Thither go, when done with life. Mother fond, and faithful wife ; Children laid in earth with tears, Martyred saints and holy seers. War, in that unclouded realm, Never dons his brazen helm ; Evil, there erects no throne — Sorrow is a name unknown. Would ye seek the blossoms lost, In this land of killing frost. For the pilgrimage prepare, Morn and eve with contrite prayer. To the clime of Endless Morn, Hope not, man or woman born. Passage, with corrupted mind. Through the Golden Gate to find. SPIRIT INTERVIEWS. I. Fair as a lunar bow that queenly night. When loveliest around her starry brow Twines, while the fairies dance in their delight, Art thou, art thou. spirit Interviews. 17 II. Remote a sweet, enchanted region lies From this discordant world where mortals pine, And my^glad spirit thither nightly flies To meet with thine. IH. A magic stairway to a turret leads, Where we look forth on Beauty's chosen home ; Green lawns and lakelets edged with golden reeds. And amber foam. IV. From a rich oriel window we command A view more fair than ever gladdened seer. And brighter far than Beulah's lovely land To Christian dear. v. Crowned with resplendent battlements and towers, We see the hills of endless summer rise ; From base to summit carpeted with flowers Of Iris dyes. VI. In pauses of our colloquy, unheard By mortal ear, awake melodious bands. As if the harps of Paradise were stirred By countless hands. VII. In that weird realm two souls that throb as one Need not bethrothal ring, nor nuptial rite, Their bridal robes by airy beings spun Of bloom and light. S Later Lays. VIII. How dim the Greek's Elysium, with its bowers, Contrasted with love's Eden where I stroll, With Caledonian Mary gathering flowers Soul knit to soul ! MARCH VIEW FROM HILLSIDE. The air is chill — the lake lies spread Paler than shroud that wraps the dead ; Save its mid-current, blue as steel. While spray drops whiten, and congeal. Oh ! how unlike its summer dress, A sheet of azure loveline.ss, In which the swallow dips his wings. And breaks its breast, in rippling rings. When the scared water-fowl upsprings ! The trees along its frozen shore Wear not the look in June they wore. Flinging deep shade the greensward o'er. With leaf harps trembling when the breeze To music woke their emerald keys. Conesus ! in my younger days I looked on gently sloping farms. Rich frame-work for thy silvery charms. With fixed, enamored gaze ; March View from Hillside. 1 9 Sails gleaming on thy crystal sheet, Glanced on the sight, and disappeared, As if by airy phantoms steered. And Nature woke no sound more sweet Than the low, lulling measured beat Of foam-flaked, undulating swells On glittering sands inlaid with shells. Old legends cling to lake and shore, But they inspire my lay no more. Though, in my younger, happier years. While sighed the wind among the pines. And old oaks with their clinging vines I heard, methought, the talk of seers. And sachems, near the "Haunted Spring," To listeners in the council ring ; Or when wan moonlight flecked the waters Would spirit barks, to fancy's eye Filled with the greenwood's dusky daughters. Float without oar or paddle by. How changed the scene ! a clouded arch Borrows no lustre from the morn, While that wild trumpeter, young March, Is blowing on his battle-horn. Less dread was Winter's iron reign. And bleak and bare lie ridge and plain. While Hillside Farm is sad to-day Beneath a sky of leaden gray. For nevermore will walk as lord. My friend upon its meadow sward, And look upon a landscape round 20 Later Lays. In mellow Autumn unexcelled, And dreamy/like enchanted ground, In Summer time beheld : But mid these scenes, renowned in song, His memory will be cherished long ; For here his rural home he made. The landscape by his presence graced. And leaves behind to view displayed, In wintry gloom, or summer shade, Marks of his elegance and taste. Hillside, March 6, 1866. HALLOWEEN. I. I HAD a vision : — in' my dream I looked on Boon's enchanted stream. The moonlight glinted forth its beam On hill, and cairn. And one I saw who reigns supreme Apollo's bairn. II. The bard, renowned in distant climes. Sighed for the sports of other times When bells rang out their merry chimes. And lads were seen With lassies singing quaint old rhymes At Halloween. Halloween. III. " These customs of an elder day," He said, " should never pass away, Till flowers should wreath the pole in May, And on the green Nymphs from the Doon, and Ayr and Tay Should choose their Queen. IV. " Hearts, leal and warm, old manners hail ! Braw lads in Caledon will fail When, as the evening shades prevail. No more are seen Blythe lassie pulling plants of kail At Halloween. "With them in soul, on sic a night. Your minstrel. Burns, sfill takes delight. And though unseen by mortal light, His spirit glance Sees on the lawn, with moonshine bright. The fairies dance. VI. " At ingle-neuks on every farm Let witch and warlock wake alarm, The burning nuts still work a charm At Halloween, So loved when arm I locked in arm With Bonny Jean. 2 2 Later Lays. VII. "By, on the wind while spirits pass, Rustling the leaves and withered grass, Still let the pale and trembling lass Her apple eat, And in the haunted looking glass A husband greet. VIII. " Indeed will Scottish hearts be cold. Her glory like a tale that's told When ancient rites and customs old Are loved no' more. And only worshippers of gold Crowd Albyn's shore." IX. Deep silence fell upon the place, The poet's noble form and face, Fled in my dream and left no trace, Like vanished smoke ; I heard Boon's waves each other chase, And I awoke. McPherson Lodge, Oct. 31, 1865. C^^^E) The Mctrkham Elm. 23 THE MARKHAM ELM* I, Like an old warrior with his helm, Decked grandly with a crest of green, A thousand years has stood yon Elm, Chief glory of the scene ! II What tales, if-its old trunk could talk. Would fall upon the listening ear. Of the wild wojf upon his walk, The red-man with his spear. III. It towered the giant of the wood. In a rich robe of emerald drest, When launched upon the ocean flood, Columbus sought the west. IV. It braved old winter's rudest shock When the storm-fiends their trumpets blew, When on stern Plymouth's hallowed rock Landed the May-Flower's crew. V. It was the forest's pride, when came The Norsemen, borne grey ocean o'er. And the Round Tower, long known to fame. Built on New England's shore, ♦This noble tree, stands on Markham Flats, near the dividing line between Avon and Rush. It is forty feet in circumference, and before it was shorn, by time, of its old protecting "boughs, it shadowed an acre of ground. It was celebrated in Indian tradition, and under its capacious canopy Chief, Sage, and Warrior, met in the_ old time. Some wretch, who little regards what is venerable and historic, kindled a lire in its hollow boll. May the curse of the poet, and the malediction of God, rest on him forevermore ! 24 Later Lays. VI. Behemoth, in its mighty shade, Has grazed, perchance, and couched him down ; His nest, the forest Eagle made, Witliin its royal crown. VII. Beneath its old protecting boughs, Perchance have Indian lovers met To hold sweet tryst, and pledge their vows To maids with locks of jet. VIII. Its branches have the Panther screened. Rough with the hues, and moss of age ; Chiefs round its Titan trunk convened, Have met in council sage. IX. It stands alone ; — the river near Breaks, with sad whisper on the shore. As if its waters longed to hear The Indian's voice once more. X. Like an old tribeless sachem now. It stands dejected and alone, And the wind, lifting up its bough. Gives out a mournful moan. XI. Within its hollow trunk are seen The smoky, blackened marks of fire, Though in its top of loving green The wind still tunes its lyre. Nook of Beautyu 25 XII. And worse than Vandal, thou, who marred Its bark with villainy malign ; — The Malediction of the Bard Forevermore be thine ! NOOK OF BEAUTY. Suggested by a New Hampshire vieio from the gifted pencil of W. H. Hilliard. Here is a lovely scene, A nook of summer beauty 'mid the hills, Tuneful with wind-swept pines, and silver rills. While, clothed in living green, Are pastures where the 'lowing cattle graze. And distance mellowed to a purple haze. II. Kine quaffing from the stream Stand with their shadows on the water flung ; A brighter summer dream Was never sketched by Art, by poet sung ; One, who thus dips his brush in Nature's hues, Commands the homage of the Poet's muse. 26 Later Lays. III. Young Artist 1 study well The matchless scenery of my native vale, Its cataracts that thunder on the gale, Lawn, breezy hill, and dell ; Go where the Genesee to run his course Leaps pure, and mountain born, with youthful force Lines Suggested by a Tableau Vivant, representing NAPOLEON CROSSING MOUNT ST. BERNARD I THOUGHT that Death had swallowed in his gulf -' The mightest genius of five thousand years ;" But there he sits upon his rearing steed, Tall Alpine peaks before him, and- behind, His weary cohorts struggling through the snow. And dragging up the steep dismounted guns, Lashed firmly in rude troughs of hollowed pine. They falter in their task-work, but the drums Beat hurriedly the charge, and fainting forms Change into figures of resistless power, And fierce eyes flash, as if the foe were near. It cannot be illusion, or the work Of wondrous sorcery j for, lo ! the flag — The tri-color that flapped its glorious folds In conquered capitals — is streaming forth Its gorgeous splendor to the freezing blast. Battle of Temperance. 2 7 Power to conceive, and will to execute, On the great captain's face, are deeply stamped ; x\nd in his glance there is a glfam of joy, As if he scorned the vale, the level plain, And loved the home of eagles and of storms. Henceforth I will believe the legends strange Of wizard Merlin and Agrippa told ; For Art a triumph has achieved to-night, That throws in shade their most potential charms — Snatched from the gloomy Past his iron keys. And wove a spell that back to mortal gaze. Summons the man of destiny once more ; Regardless of the threatening avalanche, By thundering torrent and the mountain gorge, Forcing a passage to Marengo's field. BATTLE OF TEMPERANCE. There's a mustering of forces F'rom the mountain a:nd the glen- Men are arming for the struggle. Not apologies for men. Dry bones are to life awaking, And prophetic eyes behold Wonders to the "Vale of Vision," Like those grandly seen of old. 28 Later Lays, II. Lo;ig the tribes of men have languished Under a destroying curse ; Sore were plagues that fell on Egypt, But Intemperance is worse. In its gallery of portraits, Lighte'd by the fires of Hell, Flame out faces of the fallen. Painted fearfully and well. III. Lo ! the heads of mighty genius In dark frames arrest the gaze ! Round each broad, Byronic forehead Serpents intertwined with bays. Features of one, greatly gifted, There the startled eye discerns ; Scotland's own immortal singer. Early marked for ruin — Burns ! IV. Artists of divine conception That the pencil dropped at noon — Poets, in their wild delirium. Waking harp-strings out of tune ; And a face of kingly splendor, With unutterable woe Stamped on all its lines of beauty. Whispers to the gazer — Poe ! v. Sovereigns robed in royal purple In that gallery are seen — Battle of Temperance. 29 - Loathsome marks of dissipation Blotting out majestic mien. Alexander, crushing nations Underneath his iron heel, Outlined with the blood of Clytus Clinging to his ruthless steel : VI. And the mighty king, Belshazzar ! Drunken in his festal hall. While a pencil, tipped with lightning. Writes his doom upon the wall : And the "scourge of God" who perished When a thousand fields were won, Overthrown by wine, the mocker, Attila, the royal Hun. VII. In that gallery of horror Darker sights the vision pain. Truth's apostles by the Demon Of destroying habit slain : Priests, ordained of God, that yielded When ' ' the still small voice ' ' was dumb. An inheritance in heaven Madly bartering for rum. VIII. Count the raindrops that are swallowed By the vast, engulphing main, Not the victims by this agent Of the Powers of Darkness slain. - 3° Later Lays. Pestilence that walks at midnight, War that reddens land and sea, Monster ! born of distillation, Are but dwarfs compared to thee. IX. By no lines the realm is bounded O'er which Alcohol, the king, Holds his reign of death and terror While the birds of hope take wing. Based on God-like mind in ruin, On Love's bleeding, broken heart. Is his throne, from which the Furies On their fearful mission start. X. Who asks where his court is holden ? With his satraps. Death, Despair, In the churchyard and the dungeon, On the scafifold-^find it there ! Find it where poor widowed mourners For their starving orphans wail, And a host of homeless vagrants Crowd the poor-house and the jail. XI. Where the druggist sells his bitters, Though it works the people ill. And beneath a lying label Hides the serpent of the still : Where ten thousand homes, once happy. By the sheriff have been sold, Bought by venders of the poison, Blood on their ill-gotten gold. Wintemoyeh. 31 XII. Live we in a land of Freedom, AVhile a countless host of slaves, Bone and sinew of the country, Stagger to dishonored graves ? While the Senate is polluted By inebriates void of shame, Faithless to high trusts confided. Blots upon the Nation's fame? XIII. Band, my brothers ! for the conflict, Though it prove a weary strife. And, beneath our Temple's banner, In God's name enlist for life. Let the torrent of Destruction Be arrested in its flow, Bearing to a gulf of darkness Rich and poor, the high and low. WINTEMOYEH. I. Wintemoyeh ! Wintemoyeh ! Fairest of the forest daughters ! Still thy voice of lamentation Rises from the silver waters. Well I love yon lake of beauty Cradled amid mountains green. For a sad, and olden legend. Links thy memory to the scene. 32 Later Lays. II. Wintemoyeh ! Wintemoyeh ! Dark and dreary was the day When the bravest of my tribesmen Fell in battle far away. By the crafty Sioux surrounded On the prairies of the West, Long they waged unequal conflict, Foot to foot, and breast to breast. III. Washed away are stains of battle By the rains of long ago. And tall grasses, rankly growing, Hide old bones that bleach below. There unburied lies thy lover, In his strength and pride cut down- Vain his love for Wintemoyeh, Vain his longings for renown. IV. When a runner of her people Brought the fearful tidings back To her wild, distempered vision, As the midnight morn grew black. To a rocky platform jutting From the wooded mountain side. When the summer day was dying Crazed, young Wintemoyeh hied. V. Far below, with softened murmur. Curled the billows up the beach, WtTitemoyeh. 33 And the silence oft was broken Viy the lone owl's boding screech ; But she cared not for the hooting Of dull night's ill-omened bird, While her black, dishevelled tresses By the evening wind was stirred. VI. From her breast the silver broaches Rudely with her hand she tore — From her soft arms pulled the bracelets, For their brightness charme'd no more, Then with wailing cadence floated Her sad death-song on the air. And the music was in keeping With her look of wild despair. VII. Followed fast her friends to save her. But she heeded not their cries ; Looked her last upon the mountains. And the purple sunset skies ; Madly calling on her lover, Then she took the desperate leap. And the Swan Lake gave her burial In its hollows dark and deep. VIII. Wintemoyeh ! Wintemoyeh ! Fairest of the forest daughters ! Still thy voice of lamentation Rises from the silver waters ; 34 Later Lays. And. the hunter, home-returning At the hush of twilight gray, Sees a phantom, in the distance, On the billows melt away. JUNE DYING. In crimson flakes on the garden mould. Are the fallen rose-leaves lying. And the mystic wind, that harper old. Through my ravaged bower is sighing A low, sad tune, For beautiful June Is dying. The whistle clear of the mother quail To the mead lark is replying. And airy tongues in wood and dale. Sweet, many-voiced are crying " Too soon, too soon Our beautiful June Is dying." Floral Gifts. 35 III. With saddened note o'er the faded lawn The barn-swallow low is flying ; A yputhful bloom from the land is gone, For the " Strawberry Moon " is dying, And the crickets croon That beautiful June Is dying. IV. Dry summer dust that veils its green, Through the village park is flying, And cloudy forms on the wing are seen To Beauty's death-bed hieing. For that peerless boon Of our Maker, June, Is dying. FLORAL GIFTS. Thanks, lady ! for these beauteous flowers Bright with the diamonds of the showers : The deep, clear blue of summer skies Mingles its tints with other dyes : The first, faint blush of waking day Gives to the pink its rich array. And honey-suckle cups unfold Inlaid with sunset's richest gold. 36 Later Lays. II. But why the storied poppy bring To crown this floral offering? Old poets in the lap of Dis Have flung a strange weird flower like this ; Called it the Rose of Proserpine Filled with a dread, Plutonian wine : Its scent disposes one to rest On the green turf, our mother's breast. III. Of all that grace the bright bouquet The poppy I will choose to-day ; No flower, that memory wakes, for me ! While my heart pulses like a sea On which lorn wrecks are drifting past. No ground for Hope to anchor fast : The wondrous plant from which distils Forgetfulness can cure all ills. IV. I would forget that friends grow cold, That Beauty groweth dim and old ; I would forget that woman's faith Is frail, and never kept till death ; That one long loved hath proven false, A butterfly to flirt and waltz ; Inconstant as the treacherous sand When wooing billows kiss the strand. V. Then, lady ! thanks in this dark hour. For hushed oblivion's chosen flower ; Summer Rain. It drowsy influence will cure Sharp agonies I ill endure ; Better than joy's blue myrtle crown, Better than laurel of renown When one is tired of life and light Is the dark poppy, born of night ; God's words are on each leaf imprest " He giveth his beloved rest." 37 SUMMER RAIN. What sound so sweet. After a day of fiery heat, And sunstrokes in the dusty street. As the pleasant voice of the singing rain Dashing against the window pane. The queenly rose. And vassal flowers their eyes unclose. While God his benison bestows ; And the sick man dreams of health again Cheered by the dance of the dropping rain. 38 Later Lays. III. The bubbles break, While showers descend on the breezy lake, And the water nymphs from slumber wake. Homeward driving his harvest wain The farmer curses the cooling rain ! IV. The plague fiend stops In his dread career to hear the drops ; Then, farmer ! why mourn o'er your crops? True faith sublime ne'er leaned in vain On the Power that sends us the healing rain. V. It bringeth cure To the blistered feet of the starving poor, And their hearts are strengthened to endure ; While wo, in love with life again. His hot brow bares to the welcome rain. VI. Of murmuring shells, And the silvery chime of fairy bells. Were never born such music spells, To cheer the visionary brain Of listening bard as the summer rain. VII. Earth looks more fair When drops that banish the sun's hot glare Fall from the cisterns of upper air ; And her breast is cleansed of many a stain By the- gentle bath of the summer rain. September Idyl. 39 VIII. It caught its chime, Not in this fading reahn of time, But above, above in a holier clime ; And I ever hear an angel's strain Blend with the dash of the summer rain. SEPTEMBER IDYL. "The sultry summer past, September comes — Soft twilight of the slow declining year," — [Carlos Wilcox. J Light gossamer by fairies spun, And thistle stars are changed to gold, Where rich autumnal bursts of sun Light up the forests old : In my lost youth these ancient oaks Gave shelter with their emerald cloaks, And friends they seem, by years unchanged, Though others have been long estranged. Here watch in boyhood's day I kept, My game-bag filled with feathered spoil, And phantoms rise, that long have slept. From legendary soil. 40 Later Lays. Lo ! tameless hunters 9f the deer, Bearing their antlered prey, draw near — Tall shapes of Apollonian grace, With Freedom written on each face. III. By Uhland seen were spirits twain. That with him crossed the haunted waves, And back the long deplored again Come from forgotten graves. Disturbing not the slumbering ferns. My first love, and my last, returns, Her dark eye flashing with the light Of day-break through its depths of night. IV. Gay butterflies, in saffron clad. On places moist with rain alight. Though carpeted with vesture sad Are glades with bloom once bright. White frost that made the herbage sere Has purified our atmosphere, And o'er the breezy world is thrown A charm to summer-time unknown. V. While other birds, too sad for song, In longer flight their pinions try. The migratory black-birds throng And pipe a blithe good-bye! Wild fife-notes, tremulous and shrill. Prove that the mead-lark lingers still, And guardian of her brood from foes. The quail a signal-whistle blows. September Idyl. 41 VI. Some prowling fox must be astir, For flushed in hazel coppice near The ruffed-grouse, with tumultuous whirr, Speeds by on wing of fear. Sure of a flying mark no more, Though deadly was mine aim of yore. The creature now is far away, And cover close will keep to-day. VII. The hen-hawk with a hungry scream Mounts up in widening rings of flight, Edged its broad pinions with a gleam Of mellowed amber light. From floral cups and bells the bee Bears nectar to the hollow tree, While the shrill locust wakes a lay • That tells of summer passed away. VIII. This nook of loveliness I sought In many sylvan tramp of yore — The happy heart that then I brought Beats in this breast no more. While ambushed, where the woods set bounds To yellow, grainy stubble-grounds, I listen to the pigeon's coo. And rush of plumage darkly blue. IX. Although in reach of leaden showers The hungry flock are settling down 42 Later Lays. Thought wanders back to other hours, And visions of renown : Well may the Manton by my side Be hushed, its deadly force untried, For quaffs my soul celestial wine, And golden reveries are mine. NOVEMBER. I hear the wail of the pitiless gale Round the couch of Beauty dying, And deep in tone as the hoarse trombone Are the calls of the wild geese flying : While wanes the year how lone and and drear Is the heart of the minstrel feeling, For the voiceful blast that is hurrying past Is the dirge of autumn pealing. II. Where field flowers sprang and bird-notes rang The rude gale pipes a warning ; By vapors dun that hide the sun, Festooned are the halls of morning. Hail, rain and storm of colors warm Have robbed the woodlands faded That wore of late, in royal state. Tints born of the rainbow braided. A Fall Lyric. 43 HI. When day is o'er clouds deck no more The west with their golden fleeces, And purple cloaks on the kingly oaks Are torn by the gust in pieces. A crimson glow on the sward below Of late were the maples flinging, But boughs are bare in the freezing air On which the crows are swinging. IV. In what fair isle of tropical smile Is the bright Indian summer staying ? Will the nymph no more to this northern shore Come soft with the south wind playing ? In vain we yearn for her dear return. She visits the land no longer ; With the tribes of old from a clime so cold She fled when the whites grew stronger. A FALL LYRIC. I. Heir of Summer's crown, September ! Soon will fade thy last red ember : Seasons come and go like waves Subsiding into ocean caves — 44 Later Lays. Naught is enduring here : The cup of bliss conceals alloy, And faces, wreathed with smiles of joy. Mask shuddering fear. Passing away ! passing away ! Is writ on the hillside and the vale ; Flowers that blushed at the break of day, Ere twilight-time turn pale. What is the burthen of the song That floats on the midnight blast along : The words of fearful warning heard In the voice of the rill, and the warble of bird ? The wild refrain of the stormy lay Roared by the cataract, night and day? Passing away ! passing away ! II. Nought endures that finite man In his arrogance uprears ; Tower and temple he may plan, Sons complete what sires began, But revolving years Arch and column undermine Draped with the dark green ivy-twine, And the bat and the owl flap their dismal wings, In the desolate courts of departed kings. And silence holds sway in baronial halls Where the grim face of Ruin the gazer appalls. Passing away ! passing away ! When'were words uttered so full of dismay ? How on my heart, like a knell, they are falling, While through the darkness sad voices are calling A Pall Lyric. 4; " Sorrow is ever the neighbor of mirth, Nothing is stable and constant on earth : Oh ! how brief ! Winter's dazzling flake of snow, Vernal flowers the first to blow, Summer's rose, autumnal leaf." HI. Of little profit is wealth that we hoard. Place and position are worse than vain ; Honors achieved by pen, tongue and the sword, Ere the goal of our hopes we gain. Break like frail bubbles awoke by the rain — Chase of renown is rewarded with pain, A heart-ache, a hungering void in the soul That longs for escape from its mortal control, Passing away ! passing away ! Words only uttered by creatures of clay, Are not inscribed on the portal of day. Guarding approach to the beautiful shore Washed by the stream we are ferrying o'er. Forms on the dazzling, auriferous sands Gather, and wave their pale, beckoning hands : Woven of starlight' are robes that they wear. Each stately head ringed with a circlet of gold ; One I know well by her dark, glossy hair, A beautiful being of Phidian mould. Oh 1 I am under her wondrous control. Melt her soft tones in the ear of my soul ; Sprinkled with heart-drops are words of her lay ' ' Hither, come hither ! where wreaths never wither And idols are turned into mouldering clay. While Love warbles mournfully passing away ? 46 Later Lays, Bulbs that we bury shoot forth into flowers When resurrection accompanies spring Giving dark green to the skeleton bowers, Painting the newly-born butterfly's wing, Spirits released from their chrysalis state. Flitting through Summerland's golden-arched gate, Care not where lies the poor, perishing shell, Loathsome, and dread with mortality's smell — Enough that the bondage of earth-life is o'er, And grief can encumber, guilt darken no more." TO INDIAN RIVER. Brunette among the streams ! The rose of sunset gleams Like color in an Indian maiden's cheek Upon thy shadowed breast, Where wild fowl love to rest ' From flight awhile when breeding haunts they seek. II. When comes sweet Summer-time, To cheer our Northern clime. How pleasant is a voyage along thy shore; Still dark with forests shades, While frowning palisades Rise in rude grandeur from a rocky floor. To Indian River. 4^ HI. The fisherman delights On calm, mid-summer nights His skiff by torchlight quietly to steer — A flash — a sullen plunge — And the strong muscallonge Receives his death-stroke from the deadly spear. IV The red man's ancient trail Is blotted from the vale, Through which the troubled waters foam and flow, But still his camp-fires blaze, As in departed days. Where Rocky Point looks down upon the waves below V. At twilight hour afloat Sped on our bonny boat. While foam-bells sparkled, bursting in her wake. Until she ploughed her way, By mimic cape and bay, To the charmed portals of a lovely lake. VI. Waves by no inlet fed In their romantic bed Were furrowed lightly by our gliding prow ; Trees on the rocky banks, Arrayed in scattered ranks. To groves, the surface under seemed to bow. 48 Later Lays. VII. High up, in caverned stone, Their eyrie, dark and lone. Fierce forest eagles made in other years ; Still proof against the storm, Huge nests of basket-form The vision of the passing boatman cheers. VIII. Wild dear no more to drink From runways to the brink Follow the stately leader of the herd. But trapped with cunning skill Are mink and muskrat still Where flag and reed are by the south wind stirred Would I could trace thy course To its primeval source, In wilds alone by wandering hunter sought ; There the huge moose abides, The savage panther hides, Ard beaver-dams are marvellously wrought. Through grander rivers flow. With Summer's kiss aglow. While pleasure-barges on their bosom ride. Brunette among the streams ! The poet in his dreams Will often float upon thy dusky tide. The Thousand Isles. 49 THE THOUSAND ISLES. Air — " Beautiful Isle of the Sea." I. Isles of enchantment divine ! Glory ye give to a river Broader than Danube or Rhine, Brighter than swift Gauldalquiver. Midsummer hangs round your shores Mists that are purple and golden ; Song times the dipping of oars, Now, as in the <.lays that are olden. Chorus. Haunts of the tameless and wild ! Homes of the fearless and free ! Lovelier isles never smiled. Belted by blue of the sea. II. Isles that laugh first when the spring Frees from ice-bondage the torrents, Jewels are ye in the ring Worn by the mighty St. Lawrence. Indian encampments of yore Charms, to the scenery were lending ; O'er yon dark cedars no more Smoke from old hearths is ascending. Haunts of the tameless, &c. III. .Isles where the morning first beams, More than a thousand in number, 3 50 Later Lays. Oft still I see ye in dreams, Woke by the wild winds from slumber. Channels of silvery flow Gems of the sisterhood sever ; ; Evergreen mantles bestow Beauty that drapes them forever. Haunts of the tameless, &c. IV. Oberon, king of the elves ! Court in yon arbor seems holding ; Blossoms on gray, rocky shelves. Wet by the spray, are unfolding. Undine to Echo might list, Sands grained with gold for a pillow, Where water-lillies are kissed By the blue lips of the billow. Haunts of the tameless, &c. Edens, bewitchingly fair ! Soft, crimson haze o'er ye hovers; Bowers giving fragrance to air. Wove by the wood-nymphs for lovers. Scarred in the battle of life. Folly and falsehood forsaking. Who would not rest from the strife, Home midst these green islands making? Haunts of the tameless, &c. Verses for Easter. VERSES FOR EASTER. ' The ostrich leaveth her eggs In the earth, and warmeth them in the dust Job — xxix : 14 I. Unstudied verses let me weave, While ring the bells of Easter Eve, And eggs of many hues that gleam, Gifts to the children, be my theme ! II. By Job, that holy man of old. Of the wild ostrich we are told. Who hides beneath the covering sand, Her bright eggs in a weary land, III. In grave unmarked by mortal eye, In the mute dust, her treasures lie, Until the desert sun imparts A vital heat to embryo hearts. IV. Globed are the coffins that confine Th' unsheltered brood by law divine. And after burial, all unheard Is mourning by the mother-bird. v. When her maternal task is wrought She speeds away by instinct taught That One who marks the sparrow's fall Sepulchral seeds to life will call. 52 Later Lays. Types of the resurrection morn Rise the young birdlings, desert-born, And, though a mother's care denied, Eternal love will food provide. VII. Thus faith consigns, in holy trust. Her loved and lost to burial dust, Assured, though gone the quick'ning breath That endless life is born of death. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. [Insc?-ibed to Rev. Father O'/Ceefe.) BY W. H. C. HOSMER. " Salve Regina /" immaculate Virgin. ! Here me implore, and thy pity bestow ; Wild waves of trouble around me are surging. Light with thy smile the deep night of my woe. Queen of the Saints ! hear my earnest petition, Mother of Jesus, conceived without sin. Turn me aside from the road to perdition, Let me the fold of thy love enter in. ^' /ive, Sanctissima ' ' t Hymn to the Virgin. 11. Angel of Mercy ! for grevious transgression Thorn-planted paths I am treading alone ; One hope remains — that thy blest intercession Pardon may win at the foot of the throne. Warring with fiends, oh ! compassionate Mother ! When will the sweat of my agony cease, Groans of my wounded heart how can I smother, If I hear not thy low whisper of peace ? '■'Ave, Sanctissima ' ' ! ni. Mary ! thy name when bright angels are talking Ever with holiest rapture is heard ; Air, though in darkness is Pestilence walking, Purer becomes by the spell of that word. Song, through the Halls of the Blest ever flowing. Wafts thy sweet name on its billowy tide ; Faith, while a martyrdom dread undergoing. Calling on thee has triumphantly died. ' ' Ave, Sanctissima ' ' ! IV. Wander in soul through Art's galleries olden — How the great masters delight to portray Mother and child crowned with radiance golden Shaming the tamer effulgence of day. Theme of high bard are the Loves and the Graces Flocking, like birds, round their Paphian Queen Mary and babe, with far lovelier faces, Eyes of my spirit in visions have seen. "Ave, Sanctissima" ! 54 Later Lays. V. Bearing my cross the dread burden grows lighter "Ave, Maria "/ peals out on the air; Darkness is fleeing, the prospect grows brighter, While hope bridges over the gulf of despair. Mother of God ! guard Earth's motherless daughters. Teach them to bend willing knee at thy shrine ; Pilot them over the perilous waters, Guide them, at last, to a haven divine. "Ave, Sanctissima'" ! VI. All through Eve lost was be Mary recovered, Pearl of the Sisterhood ! free from all guilt ; Bloom follows blight where her spirit hath hovered. Wonders are wrought where her alters are built. Fair is the lily, but Mary is fairer, O'er my heart's realm may she reign without end ; Tender and true is the love that I bear her, Knightly my zeal her pure sway to extend. "Ave, Sanctissima ' ' .■' GOD'S TENT. Let every knee be bent. Let every head be bowed, For in this holy tent Speaks Deity aloud. God'' s Tent. 55 The islands and the lands In loved embrace it holds, Not made with human hands Are its blue curtain folds. II A countless host encamps Within, watched o'er by Love ; Sun, moon and stars are lamps That light it from above. These things endowed with breath, Pour out perpetual praise, And Life's pale sister, Death, Clasped hands at times will raise. III. What stirs devotion deep Like voices that arise When Nature wakes from sleep, And darkness drapes the skies — When tribes of earth are dumb. And storm unfurls its wings. While thunder beats his drum. And bass roused Ocean sings ? ^ IV. By billow, breeze and bird A ritual is read Sweeter than written word \ By priest or abbot said. Hymns sung by falling showers Beyond the reach of art. Those smiles of God, the flowers. Rebuke a thankless heart. S6 Later Lays. V. Shall man no praise bestow, A prayerless mute be seen While thanks the cattle low To God for pastures green — While mountains that aspire His majesty proclaim, And clouds have tongues of fire That thunder out his name ? VI. Grand are the waves of sound That through old minsters roll, Stirring the heart's profound^ Lifting on high the soul ; But in God's holy tent Is grander music far. Its dome, the firmanent. Its lamps, sun, moon and star. MOUNT OF VISION. Stand on the charmed Mount of Vision with me Washed by a river that glimmers below ; Crowning its headlands a city I see. Turret and tower with the morning aglow. Mount of Vision. 57 Palm groves give shade to suburban retreats, Ruby and sapphire flash out from the walls, Lovely are shapes in the pearl-paven streets, Saintly are heads that look forth from its halls. II. Music I hear that sad hearts have desired Sending electrical life through the veins ; Mighty, old masters, when rapt and inspired, Never could waken such exquisite strains. How limn with pencil a picture so fair, Paint in weak colors the Land of the Blest ; Hill-slopes that purple of royalty wear. Vales ifl rich glow of the emerald drest ! III. Forms of the loved and lost gladden the sight. Beings of beauty deplored by me long Wave their white hands, and I catch with delight Wandering notes of ecstatical song. Come to my arms, let me clasp thee again Innocent child, wearing ringlets of gold ! Bride of my youth ! that I mourn for in vain. Come with the passionate greeting of old ! IV. Would I had wings to ilee swiftly away Thither where grief never uttered a moan — Spirits relieved from the bondage of clay Over yon River find passage alone. Fade into shadow those fields ever green, Towers, by no mortal hand built disappear ; Roseate mists drop a curtain between Sand-wastes of Time, and Love's holier sphere. 'WjL^ii Lyq^ics. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 'T'IME'S belfry, with another knell, Is in the wintry tempest shaking, And Ocean, with an angry swell. Is on the beach in thunder breaking. Another pilgrim reached the goal When waned the last hour of December, And left behind a blood-red scroll That man will evermore remember. To Europe for a mighty theme No more in thought the bard will wander. But here, awaking from his dream. Upon the fate of empire ponder. Of greatest moment are events Within one year's brief.limits crowded ; Potomac's shore all white with tents. Heroic martyrs early shrouded. in. Fields with fraternal gore are red Where Peace, of late, the grain was reaping ; From rugged Maine to Hilton Head Are widowed ones, and Orphans weeping. 62 War Lyrics. The hardy Anglo-Saxon race Now, as of old, are slow to anger, But when concession is disgrace They love the battle's shock and clangor. IV. Departed Year ! the book of Time Is filled with memorable pages. Recording wars, and deeds sublime That scatter night from perished ages. But, ah ! not one of these can chain Such grand material for story As leaf that registers thy name. Though sorrow mingles with the glory. V. Unsparing, parracidal hands Have lifted steel to pierce a mother Whose fall, in many groaning lands The spark of liberty would smother. In vain have patriots implored^ — Misled by chiefs whose hearts were rotten ; Revolted states have grasped the sword, And every solemn oath forgotten. VI. An undivided North has sworn This league of states shall not be broken ; Drum-beat, and blast of bugle-horn The marching of her hosts betoken. Ask not, ask not, with lying mouth. Unblushing preacher of Disunion ! " Why should the children of the South With Northern mud-sills hold communion ? ' Annus Mirabilis. 63 VII. Have we no partnership in graves On Yorktown's plain, by Eutaw's water, Where Britain sent her hireling slaves Like driven cattle to the slaughter ? Who called New England craven when She fought to guard your homes and alters; While many of the Southern men Grew loyal at the thought of halters ? VIII. When Carolina's host had fled From Camden in disgraceful panic, The chief to victory that led Was Greene, Rhode Island's brave mechanic. The sword-cane and the bowie-knife In peaceful times we never carry ; But strong must be the arm in strife That downright northern blows can parry. IX. If gallant Marion from the tomb Could rise, how stern would be his warning, To see the land in deeper gloom Than wrapped in it the nation's morning ; To hear wild wailing in the air, And cries of havoc and disaster. While tiger Slavery, in his lair, Crouched for the life-blood of the master. That country never bleeds in vain When the dread curse of war falls on her. 64 War Lyrics. Though with a hecatomb of slain She vindicates insulted honor. When kind, paternal words are weak, And spurned the calm appeal of reason, The cannon's iron lips must speak In thunder to the brood of Treason. XI. The poet cherishes belief When nations reach the brink of ruin Wake in their coffins sage and chief, To preach against the foul undoing. Hark ! Marshfield by the sounding sea. And Ashland call in tones of thunder — "This mighty Empire of the Free Rebellion must not rend asunder." XII. Mount Vernon finds a voice, and cries In tones of earnest supplication, " Ye madmen, sever not the ties Of fealty that States owe the Nation." The Hermitage has vocal grown While near the storm of battle gathers — " Strike ! for the soil that freemen own, Strike for the grave-mounds of your fathers." XIII. Weep, Genius of Columbia, weep ! With proud, but bitter drops of sorrow. Where Winthrop and Young Ellsworth sleep The slumber that will know no morrow. Annus Mirabilis. ' 65 I^ike Bayard whose undimmed renown Gleams like a cloudless star full brightly, Or Sydney of the laurel crown, They fell with harness on full knightly. XIV. What land can nobler heroes boast Who in the van have died sublimely. Than Lyon, Ajax of the host ! And gallant Baker, slain untimely. For them the marble shafts of art Would be a work of vain endeavor ; Their names upon the Nation's heart Are written, and will last forever. XV. Beware of ice-bergs when afloat. The mighty growth of polar winters ; Or Ocean when the strongest boat With flail of surge he pounds to splinters. For avalanches darkening day, Watch, traveler, in Alpine regions ! They have been known to sweep away An army with its bannered legions. XVI. Volcanic fires and earthquake shock Mock at crowned heads and their dominiops, And deadly is the wild siroc Lifting the sand waste on its pinions. Terrific, these ! — but lo, a sight At which description lags and falters ! Armed millions rising in their might. And as one man to guard their alters. 66 War Lyrics. XVII. No foreign foe pollutes our coast, No Vandal horde of rash Invaders To rouse in arms a grander host Than Hermit Peter's grim Crusaders. Far louder than Orlando's horn The tocsin of alarm is ringing, And brighter than the blaze of morn Our flag abroad its folds are flinging. XVIII. Oh ! why should precious blood be spilled By rending shot and dripping sabre. Where God has with abundance filled The bursting granaries of Labor ? Give answer, vile, insurgent crew. More heartless far that fiends infernal. To Country, Home and Heaven untrue, And doomed to infamy eternal ! XIX. No longer in your hellish hate, A hope to crush this Union cherish ; Immutable and fixed as fate Is the decree that Guilt must perish. Truth's champions can know no fear, I For love divine is watching o'er them. And frightened by their charging cheer, The Powers of Darkness flee before them. XX. Port Royal has revived the fame Of our lost Perrys and Decaturs ; Annus Mirabilis. 67 When will that day of blood and flame Be unremembered by the traitors ? Our roaring implements of death Woke fear and trembling in that city Where fell Rebellion first drew breath, And armed his pirates and banditti. XXI. When " On to Richmond ! " was the cry, Talk not of routed thousands flying ; Dragoons and footmen rushing by, Regardless of the dead and dying — The " Chivalry " far greater speed Have shown when meeting with reverses, Leaving behind them in their need. Arms, clothing, wretched scrip and purses. XXII. This government, insulted long. By fiends who glory in trangression. Though patient under grevious wrong Now drains the life-blood of Secession. The sceptred tyrants of the world Who thought Columbia's doom was written Ere sword is sheathed, or banner furled By Freedom's gauntlet shall be smitten. XXIII. Old Pharisee of Nations ! pause ! While covert aid to traitors lending ; Be wary when a righteous cause, Bold, chainless millions are defending. 68 War Lyrics. Deem not stern warning to beware, Weak, idle words not worth the heeding ; Your Lion to his island lair Twice have we driven maimed and.bleedin^ XXIV. The leaves of history are black With thy iniquities unnumbered, And darkly ambushed for attack In vengeance that too long has slumbered. In fierce pursuit of power and gold The scourge of nations thou has proven : For thee, like haughty Tyre of old. The funeral pall will yet be woven. XXV. We ask no sympathy from thee While insurrection frowns defiant, More strong, grey Robber of the Sea ! Will tower again this Western Giant. Hark ! to the stormy battle-song Of freemen on their march victorious, And banish hope that fraud and wrong Can overthrow, this Empire glorious. OUR BANNER. The red on our flag is the herald of dawn While curtains that darken the East are withdrawn Our Banner. 69 Like thunderbolts launched from the heart of a cloud, Each stripe lends a gleam to War's sulphury shroud. Tiien, while the breath of the tempest shall fan her, Let red haVe a place on the folds of our banner. The white is an emblem of peace to the world When the black flag of Treason forever is furled — That stainless in name should the champion be Who fights with a strong arm for the Land of the Free. Then, while the breath of the tempest shall fan her. Let white have a place on our glorious banner. For clustering stars a rich ground work of blue Its folds from the,dome of the firmament drew. And the planets of Heaven shall darken with rust Ere Columbia's ensign is trailed in the dust. Then, while the breath of the tempest shall fan her, Let blue have a place on the folds of our banner. Up, up for the conflict, ye valiant and true. And die ere dishonored the" Red, White and Blue ! " Tear down from its staff the Palmetto and Snake ! While the ranks of Secession grow frightened and break, To victory ride o'er the dying and dead. Like the horsemen of Gaul with Murat at their head. 70 JFar Lyrics. MARTIAL MUSIC. Sound, sound the Spartan fife ; The Persian banners wave, And, marching to the strife. Let music thrill the brave ; Above the clash of steel, The shock of meeting foes. The charger's clattering heel. The ringing twang of bows, A bolder strain is played. And Persia flies dismayed. II. Castile is up in arms Against the Moor to-day ; Sword-clang and loud alarms Announce the coming fray ; The atabal is heard, Thrown by are light djerreeds. And, on to conflict spurred. Rush, Yemen's milk-white steeds ; "II Allah! " loud and high Their turbaned riders cry. III. Beat time upon the drum — A brisker measure play — Old England's warriors come In thunder to the fray. Martial Music. 71 Their bayonets are bright, In blood to redden soon — Oh ! cheer them to the fight With still a bolder tune ; One shock, and all is o'er — Crushed foes can form no more. IV. Ring, out, wild bugle ! ring Thy loudest, clearest note To horse the troopers spring, While plume and pennon float ; They charge, and fallen lie The broken, hollow squares. While quaver shrill and high, Gaul's ancient battle airs ; Their music valor warms. And nerves strong hearts and arms. Blow, plaided piper blow Some rousing Highland air, For the victorious foe Back Britain's bravest bear ! The piper louder plays, The. clans renew the fight. And while their muskets blaze Foes scatter wide in flight ; For how can Scotland quail When music cheers the Gael ! 72 War Lyrics. VI. Hark ! ' Hail Columbia ' wakes A thrill in free-born breasts ; The hostile column quakes, And shorn are nightly crests ; Where man encounters man, And shot and shell rain fast, Our banner in the van Is flapping on the blast ; The earth with foemen strown — A host is overthrown ! BATTLE CALL. Up and arm ! Up and arm, for the land is in danger ; On footmen, and horsemen, and swift rifle ranger ; Leave shop, office, factory, counters and farms, While the cry thrills all hearts, one and all fly to arms ! Let cowards retreat, While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. Up and arm ! Up an arm, for the hordes of Secession Are marching against us, all black with transgression ; Battle Call. 7 Our thinned ranks of Northmen let freemen recruit, The soil of the Key-Stone their footsteps pollute : Let cowards retreat, While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. HI. Up and arm ! for the soil by our fathers adored ! The best cure for treason are shot, shell and sword : Then rush like the waves of the sea to the shock, Let us meet them as met by the surge is the rock. Let cowards retreat. While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. IV. Up and arm for the country of Carroll and Wirt ! Shall freemen the flag of the Union desert ; Shall Washington fall, while base faction prevails, And the dagger of Treason our Union assails ? Let cowards retreat. While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. v. Up and arm ! In the thunder and smoke of the strife My curse on the wretch who would not offer life In guarding the fabric upreared by our sires, While blazes on each hill-top the land's beacon fires Let cowards retreat. While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. 4 74 War Lyrics. VI. Up and arm ! though the wife of your bosom is dying, The children you love on their death-beds are lying; Far better a grave in the soil you defend, Than dastard, drag out along life to the end. Let cowards retreat, While our starred banner-sheet Flaps the gale. ODE. I. Lo ! stainless as the mountain sleet, A chaplet decks Columbia's brow ; No blot is on her banner-sheet, No cloud on her escutcheon now : A grander, more inspiring lay Should thrill Earth's mighty heart to-day Than stirred it when the Red sea coast Was grim with corpses of a host. Oh! what a voice of jubilee. From liberated millions rose, When Sherman, marching to the sea. With mortal fear alarmed his foes ; Ode. 75 Blood-dripping lash, and clanking chain. Are banished from our vast domain, And freedmen cultivate the sod Where the great captain's war-horse trod. III. Crows, northward winging overhead Their way from fields of desperate fight, 'i'ales of the unreturning dead Seem croaking in their heavy flight ; — Long absent they are flocking back To olden haunts in funeral black. And may their beaks in precious gore Of brethren steeped be nevermore. IV. Peace to the fallen ! hostile thought. And vengeful vow should be supprest Since the great conflict has been fought. And Union's cause with triumph blest. Bones of our perished warriors lie, Land of the South ! beneath thy sky, And dust of northern hearts must be, " Till crack of doom," a part of thee. V. And where war rolled his purple waves Through thy broad realm the generous West Won partnership with thee in graves Where martyrs of the struggle rest. Friends now, but late thy foes, we feel That thou wert worthy of our steel, And that thy sons, in league with ours. Could tame a bad world's banded powers. 76 War Lyrics. VI. Victorious, we scorn to tear One leaf, in view of Stonewall's tomb From laurel thine the right to wear. One feather from thy battle plume : Ere slavery died unwept, unsung, A plague-spot to thy beauty clung : New-trimmed thine alter-flame to-day Emits a purer, holier ray. VII. Between stern North and fiery South, Although a thousand hopes are wrecked, Acquaintance at the cannon's mouth Begot a mutual respect. The brave resentment never know When overthrown a gallant foe, Baptised by fire and leaden rain. Who measured strength with them in vain. VIII. No longer like red levin glows Bellona's torch from shore to shore ; With autumn leaves and wintry snows Its embers have been covered o'er; And richer for the bloody toil Of foemen is the quickened soil, And growing on heroic graves, With ranker growth the harvest waves. IX. The fiery passions of the strife Thus in the hearts of men will die. Shenandoah Valley. 77 And flowers of love and nobler life Spring up where cold their ashes lie : — Again the myrtle loves to twine Its blossoms round the northern pine, And healing winds are breathing balm Upon the wounded southern palm. SHENANDOAH VALLEY. I. Lo ! Shenandoah from its source, And, northward, where it runs its course, Flows with a mournful murmur, on ; Town-spires have vanished, one by one. They flash not in the setting sun. Nor catch the glow of dawn. II The reddened hoof of Battle, shod With thunder, through thy vale hath trod So often that nor song of bird, Nor pastoral music as of yore Is near thy mournful current heard Imbued with fratricidal gore : Hearths of once happy homes are cold. The shepherd finds no flock to fold ; Away marauding bands have spurred Driving the last steer of the herd, y8 War Lyrics. And nought betokens even life Where raged the roar and rush of strife, Save, howling for the handl that fed. The watch-dog with his famished form, Or wanderer, in affluence bred, Without a place to lay his head, Or house him from the storm. The smithy lies in ruin low. The bellows hath forgot to blow ; Unstirred by bell-stroke in the air When Sabbath brings a call to prayer ; Hushed is the clatter of the mill — The hum of Industry is still ; A pall is o'er the hamlet thrown. Gray ashes mark its site alone ; And grim with half-uncovered graves, Too thick to number like thy waves. Are fields of mortal conflict seen The wolf alluring from his lair To hold, with flocking ravens, there A carnival obscene. IV. Wyoming ! valley, famed in song. Where right waged war with lawless wrong, Thou wert a region of delight. When o'er thy memorable fight. Compared with Shenandoah's vale Where every land-mark tells a tale Of ruin, wo and blight. Tournament of Death. 79 Rich carpets, gilded picture-frames, Heir-looms that told of "Long Ago," Gay Cavaliers, and courtly dames ^Vere flung, rich fuel, to' the flames. While bivouacked the foe. TOURNAMENT OF DEATH; OR, read's last ride. I. Rich in j)roud memories is the pass Where perished of old Leonidas, His precious blood libation free Poured out at the shrine of liberty : But this mighty world of the West can boast As great a name in freedom's host. To grandly peal in a nation's shout. When our banner of stars is flaming out, Inspiring men in the desperate fight To conquer, or die for God and the Right. Then crown with laurel. Read ! With deathless laurel. Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man, Upon his battle steed. So iVar Lyrics. The spurring courier tidings brought That junction Lee_with Johnston sought. Determined, although great his loss. The Appomattox bridge to cross, And changing base the war prolong With a force an hundred thousand strong, Read hurried, with a weak array, To bring the southern chief to bay. Though suffering from wounds unhealed Received on many a desperate field. Then crown with laurel. Read ! With deathless laurel, Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man, Upon his battle steed. III. When reached his post of peril dire He shouted, while his eye flashed fire, " We must hold this bridge, my lads ! or die-r— If they pass it must be where our corpses lie. ' ' With fearful odds the foe rushed on. Drums beat the charge, and blades were drawn, But the blue jackets charged the grey, And the head of their column was swept away. Then crown with laurel. Read ! With deathless laurel. Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man, Upon his battle steed. Tournament of Death. 8i IV. Again, and again were driven back The Rebel ranks in their fierce attack ; Where man rr^et man, and steed met steed Charged, under spur, the gallant Read : Never Murat of the snow-white plume. Whose shout was an army's knell of doom, Fought on with more of skill and might In the red maelstrom of the fight. And cheered by foes was this warrior true Leading to death his devoted few. Then crown with laurel. Read I With deathless laurel. Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man, Upon his battle steed. V. Though bleeding fast, with sword in hand. While melted away his Spartan band, Read marked a general of the foe Tower in their van for the final blow. But he shouted, with a flashing eye, " We must hold the bridge, my lads, or die !" — Then met in the shock of fearful fight, The rebel chief, like a belted knight, While dead from their steeds that bore them well Both, in that stern encounter, fell. Then crown with laurel, Read ! With deathless laurel. Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man. Upon his battle steed. 82 IFar Lyrics. ■ VI. Thus the back-bone of treason broke, For Lee received his mortal stroke When Read in manhood's glorious morn, Made battle with his "hope forlorn," While crimson from their wounds outwelled, And Appomattox Bridge was held. On fame's unmoulding column traced. High will this feat of arms be placed. And all who perished on that day In the nation's heart be enshrined, for aye. Then crown with laurel. Read ! With deathless laurel, Read ! For never rode in glory's van A braver, or a better man. Upon his battle steed. SONG. Jeff's Kingdom of Cotton with infamy rotten Was doomed to succumb to our glorious flag ; The brave rallied under the stars while in thunder Was torn into shreds his piratical rag, The stream, from its fountain, on Look Out's proud mountain, Hath drank flowing down a libation of blood ; The doom of transgression has smitten secession Where dark Chattanooga rolls onward his flood. &ong. 8^ II. Shout loud, ho, hosannah ! the stripes o'er Savannah, Red symbols of doom to proud tyranny wave. Stern Justice hath risen, and lo ! from his prison Bursts Freedom announcing redress to the slave. False South ! heed the sermon that practical Sherman, From mouths of his cannon propounded to you ; His legions are chaunting — "weighed well, and found wanting." ^ Are wretches who trod on the " Red, White and Blue." III. Proud Charleston is humbled for Sumter hath crum- bled. To ruin her storm-beaten battlements hurled ; That eloquent preacher of liberty, Beecher, Her funeral oration pronounced to the world. Our famished and dying in dungeons were lying Where batteries frowned on the banks of the James ; No longer they languish — ^forgotten their anguish In Sheridan's march, and the roaring of flames. IV. Death only brings terror to black guilt and error. His skull-bones affright not the just and the true ; What shroud for the martyr who loves Freedom's charter More prized than the glorious " Red, White and Blue?" Our eagle his pinion once more. Old Dominion ! Flaps o'er you while Earth hears his conquering cry ; The bright bow of promise, so long absent from us, Again arches over Columbia's sky. §4 I far Lyrics. OUR LOYAL DEAD.' I. Our martyred dead, our martyred dead ! The land is billowed with their graves ; Sods were uptorn to make their bed While rolled the battle's purple waves : Few, near their shrouded fathers rest, With funeral flowers their couches drest. II. Ah ! thousands worn, and famine-pale Died captives of the cruel foe, No mourner save the blast to wail Where famished men were lying low ; While the hill-tops catch morning's flame Their native North will guard their fame. III. Rust will consume the blades they drew, Moths eat the banner that the bore, . But deeds of men to Freedom true In generous hearts live evermore; Time drops his scythe, and Death flings by His dart, when heroes nobly die. IV. Their mission ends not when the goal Of life through blood and toil they gain. Although the muffled bells we toll While slow move hearse and funeral train ; Crushed cages of the soul we bear, But where the spirit ? — tell me where ? Our Loyal Dead. 85 Inspiring hearts whose pulses keep Time to the battle-march of truth, Waking the bondsman from his sleep, And giving age a second youth : Though echoless their footsteps fall I see their shadows on the wall. VI. Along my nerves their whispers low Awaken an electric thrill ; They come to share our joy and woe. Are living, loving, breathing still ; By man's dim, clouded gaze unseen The dead, to-night, with us convene. VII. Ye mourners ! throw your weeds away, • Let no wild requiem be sung ; The voices of the slain all day Have in mine ear like harp-notes rung : We number them with bright things fled. But they exist whom we-caW dead. VIII. Spectators, listeners ! they have heard The words that from my tongue have rolled. And, when my heart grew faint, have stirred My bosom with the fires of old : Although unseen by mortal sight The dead move, in our midst, to-night. 86 Pl'dr Lyrics^ Assure them, ere they cross again The cold, dark stream that knows no tide, Whose .waves the reahn where seraphs reign From this dark land of storm divide, A generous band will pay the debt Of gratitude we owe them yet. Up with the monumental tower. Or rear the cenotaph on high, In honor of our dead — the flower Of Livingston's proud chivalry : Kind ladies ! men of generous mould. Part with your jewels, rings and gold ! XI. Crown with a shaft of marble pale. Or granite gray, yon u|)land swell That overlooks a lovelier vale Than Arno's, of which poets tell. In honor of the brave who died That Union's ark tfte wave might ride. XII. While by our household fires we sit Recall the lads who dared to die When, crimson to each bridle-bit. The steeds of havoc thundered by — Died that this league of States might be Soldered with blood eternally. l)ecoration Day. 87 XIII. When we forget our loyal dead Who nobly fell for hearth and shrine, Black be the pall o'er nature spread, Our valley red with blood like wine : Then let their funeral shaft uptower A rallying place in danger's hour. DECORATION DAY. Cometh from bright, Elysian fields. Air that such balmy odor yields. Or is it sweetened by the breath Of Flora at the gates of death ? Immortelles, reaped on holy ground. Wreath the Pale Mower's scythe around. While flits the phantom of a smile His ashen visage o'er the while. II. Marble forget-me-nots of art Lone grandeur to the tomb impart Linked, towering precious dust above To pride, not sentiments of love, 'Till wreaths fair hands delight to form. Their monumental coldness warm, Tears in each cup, and chalice bright Dropped by the star eyed mourner, Night. War Lyrics. in. The fancy of the gifted Greek Through language of the flowers would speak : Mute pathos of each withering leaf Gave to bruised hearts a blest relief When childhood died, or early lost On beauty fell destroying frost : — Thus Pericles of sternest mould Wept, crowning Paralus of old. IV. Oh ! to the nation's heart how dear Dust of the martyrs buried here; Long in this Greenwood of the soul For them may voices call the roll ! To sepulchres in which they lie, With frozen pulse and curtained eye. May future generations pay The reverent care we show to-day. V. Give to the pansy, streaked with jet. Place in a funeral coronet Beside the lily of the vale To grace tall shaft, or headstone pale. Forget not, ye that mourn, between Frail buds to weave the evergreen. Sign that the faithful dead will be Kept ever green in memory. VI. From Holy Writ we learn, alas ! " Man's glory as the flower of grass" Decoration Day. 89 Blooms for a bright, and fleeting day Then fades, and vanisheth away. Meet, therefore, for these grassy beds, Where pillowed lie heroic heads, Are garlands, wet with tearful showers, Culled from the sisterhood of flowers. VII. Tri-colored blossoms thickly spread Over each warrior's narrow bed, i In tint and shade conforming well With the dear flag for which they fell. Bring roses of auroral glow. Lilies that shame the mountain snow, And to complete the colors three, Bring blue bells from the Genesee. VIII. The " Flower of Love lies bleeding" well With mute significance will tell How mothers of the martyred brave Were brought in sorrow to the grave ; How wife, and broken-hearted maid Still mourn for yfilor lowly laid. And widowhood of sable veil, Sobs out wild dirge-notes to the gale. IX. In spirit on this hallowed day, I visit hillocks far away. And over them I long to fling Bright, floral treasures of the Spring. 9<5 tVar Lyrics. There son and brother moulder on, While Love grows pale and woe-begone' To think, on mounds of their repose, Not one poor native wild-flower grows. X, Fain would I grace blood-moistened earth With tributes from their place of birth ; The dandelion's brooch of gold Pluck from the tartan of the wold. Or common flowers that smile at morn, Near the lost homes where they were born, To whisper on each lorn, drear spot, " One faithful heart forgets ye not ! " XI Endeared is Albion's chalky strand By sports of merry Motherland When dancing feet of nymphs kept time Round May-poles, to soft music's chime; And on the daisied village green Crowned was a young and blushing queen,— But doubly dear henceforth is May Hallowed by " Decoration Day." XII. . Oh ! is it not a thought sublime That at this blest, appointed time. From dark Atlantic's coast-line grand To far Pacific's golden strand, — From orient hills in purple drest To prairies of the mighty West ; From Northland to Fioridian- bowers. Heroic graves are strewn with flowers. Decoration Day. 9 1 XIII. With leaves that " sad embroidery " wear From field and grove cull wildlings rare To symbolize our speechless woe For rank and file, laid early low, That nevermore one bondsman's chain Might clank on Freedom's broad domain, And, blood-cemented, to the skies Our temple, block by block, might rise. XIV. The " Mountain Daisy," by the plow Of Burns upturned, is blooming now. More fortunate than sister flowers. It fades not with the fleeting hours ; And honored well will be the bard, Thrice blest, no longer evil-starred, If, song embalmed, to perish never, These funeral wreaths bloom on forever. \