f«N ,-j ,UJa.!iij4U ANIl'OTr 2nd copy. 1898.1 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Cliap. Copyright No. SlieltiAS L '2> — -IS^^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. JAN a 1899 HENRY DEAN ATWOOD THE LAST ARROW AND OTHER POEMS BY HENRY DEAN ATWOOD ii TAUNTON, MASS. PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 1899 L. •AVWc^ ^ >*^» 22448 Copyright, 1899, By henry dean ATWOOD. JAN 6-1899 '■ ef Cop^ ,A« Nortooatr ^rcss J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Norwood Mass. U.S.A. TABLE OF CONTENTS -•0*- PAGE Zecana . . . , I Our Flag , . 13 Ode of Greeting 15 The Last Arrow . . .18 Cigar Song . . 25 The Mayflower 27 English Toasts 29 The French Peasant's Song . . . . . .31 The Dead Commander . . . . . . -32 The Soldier Boy . . -34 The Blue and Gray 36 The Double Desertion 39 The Cretan Maid 44 The Maine • • 53 Our Destiny 54 The Soldier's Return 64 The Light-boat 67 The Sea-gull . . 69 A Good Ship and a Gallant Crew 73 Waves . . 74 The Fair Harbor 75 Joy and Sunlight . 76 The Sea-nymph 77 iii IV TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE The Ocean 80 The Prairies 81 The Evening Fairy . .82 Twilight ' . . . -83 To Sue 84 May-day Wooing 85 The Exile's Return 92 She Sleeps . . . 94 The Old Church Bell 96 The Solitary 97 'Coon-hunting 98 Nature's Prospect 99 Song of the French Mousquetaires . . . .100 An Impromptu loi Village Chronicles: I. The Fight in the Village Glen . . . 102 II. The Reconciliation 107 III. The Fortune-teller iii The First of May 121 Job Thrasher's Fight 122 Robin Goodfellow 131 Wine . . . . 136 Drinking-song 138 A Madrigal 139 Rangeley Trout . . 141 Taunton River 143 Morn 145 Trout-fishing 147 Bass-fishing 148 Quail-shooting 149 Rabbit-shooting . . . . . . . . .150 TABLE OF CONTENTS V PAGE The Robin . . . . » 151 Dreams » . . 152 The Broad and Rolling Prairies 153 The Rescued Fawn 156 Amy Robsart . . . 159 At Sea _ . . .161 The Bloody Tower 162 Thoughts, from Horace . . . . . . .165 Flowers . 167 The Twenty-fifth Birthday . . . . . .168 Virtues of Masonry .172 Appendix . . . . . . . = . .185 THE POEM OF ZECANA THE VALLEY 'TwAS in a wild and lonely vale There gushed a fountain, bright and free ; And high above shone like a sail, When seen afar upon the sea, A lofty mount, whose snow-capped head Had never felt the white man's tread. Oh ! like the gem of a lady's pride Was this valley wild by the mountain side ! And in the midst, with ceaseless flow. From the caverned depths far, far below, The sparkling waters ever rise. Like lustrous diamonds, to the skies. Here song-birds come beneath the shade, And build their nests, with warblings sweet And whoso strays within the glade Their dulcet notes his ear will greet. But few are they whose lips have pressed The fountain's rim, and there at rest Have heard from every rock and tree Those birds' sweet notes of minstrelsy ! THE POEM OF ZECANA THE FOUNTAIN The dancing waters leap to light, And beat against the fountain's brim : Beneath there lurks a water sprite, Whose eyes the morning star would dim : His realm the fountain's mossy sides — In sovereign state he there presides : While, through the rifted rocks below, The waters have eternal flow. Let there the human voice be dumb, And none the Spirit's power defy; He holds the fate of all who come. And gives them faithful augury. Who gaze within the waters clear And cast their votive offerings there, Rejoice to mark his smile appear. And view his frowning with despair ! For as, beneath the slightest breath, O'er summer's lake the ripples flow — So from his frown comes speedy death, His smile will lengthened years bestow. Or when the sun is in the sky, Or when the rounded moon is seen, When summer winds come dreaming by. Or winter's snow enshrouds the green — Tradition says, since first the time The antelope was on the plain. And lordly bison sought the clime With each recurring year again — THE POEM OF ZECANA So long that fount had ceaseless flow — So long that Spirit dwelt below ! THE CHIEFTAIN One day an Indian chieftain hied Unto that lonely fountain side ; And laid himself adown to rest, And drew his wampum from his breast : He cast the beads within the tide, And watched them circling far and wide - An offering thrown by pious hands, As ancient custom so demands. His votive gift the waves disdain, And bring unto his feet again ; While o'er the darkened water played The angry Spirit's frowning shade. And, as he gazed, with lips apart. The blood ran chill unto his heart ; For there, unless all sense belied, He saw the semblance of his bride. A look of such distress she wore — Such anguish every feature bore — He could not brook that sight to see, But deemed it baneful augury ! He called his steed that stood near by. And would with slightest word comply : Upon his back did swiftly spring. And then was off like bird on wing. This thought was his : " My love is dead ! As o'er the prairies wild he fled. THE POEM OF ZECANA Of his mad flight and what befell, Let his own words the story tell. THE PRAIRIES The rolling prairies stretch before — From each high crest a thousand more Expanding, till the gazing eye Beholds horizon meet the sky : Eternal waves, like ocean's breast, Quelled into silence and at rest. How quiet all : no voice profanes The brooding silence of the plains : Though travelled far o'er land and sea- No matter where the clime may be — Who once has viewed can ne'er forget. The scene will hold in memory yet. THE FLIGHT Away ! away ! The Northern star Shall prove our guide on journey far : The springing turf beneath our heel, Shall fiery steed and rider feel : Away, away ! The night winds sigh — The boding owl makes harsh reply. The howling wolves — a ravening pack. Are hanging close upon our track. O steed of mine, O courser true, Redoubled fire thy veins imbue ! THE POEM OF ZECANA Till in thy flight, like winged dart, Thou cleavest the gathering winds apart ! Strain up the height, O gallant steed. Thy headlong flight let naught impede ! Dash down the slope, like bounding roe, To those far depths that yawn below ! Let there thy nimble footsteps sound. And wake the echoes wild around — Again thou'lt breast the proud hill's side, To course again the prairies wide ! The clear, cold stars within the skies. Look down on earth with tender eyes: They whisper, sigh, and seem to say, " Ride, ride, in haste ! away, away ! " Who is to say what visions dread Passed through my brain, as on I sped ! In rapid flight, hour after hour. And taxed my courser's failing power ? Till eastern skies began to flush. And night retired at morning's blush ! The morning's sun that glads the skies Shall see my home before me rise; Shall see Zecana at my call. Rush to my arms, my loved, my all ! ZECANA The Spanish Peaks in outline clear. Against the sky their summits rear ! Another hour will find us there — And thou shalt have my tender care — THE POEM OF ZECANA Of care and rest, my faithful steed, Thy drooping crest shows fearful need! Through waving grass we onward go, To reach the goal will both bestow. The eagle's nest within the tree, That guards my home, I plainly see ! My heart beats quickly in my breast With thoughts of her I love the best ! The hour is past ; beneath the shade. Where rests my home, my course is stayed. I slack the girth — throw off the rein My panting steed can breathe again. " Zecana, wake ! Thy lord is here ! Why comest thou not his heart to cheer ? Thy smiling face, and loving eyes, Should welcome him with sweet surprise ! What means this silence.'* Lo, I find Thy latticed door swings to the wind! Zecana, love! " again I call — And list the dying accents fall ; From caverned rocks the echoes come, " Zecana, love ! " all else is dumb ! THE SEARCH O'er fallen trees I make my search. Where ink-like ooze and mire besmirch For here long years ago were felled The forest trees that empire held. THE POEM OF ZECANA I followed where a gentle tread, Like fairy footsteps, faintly led — And all around were signs of strife — Discarded spear, and scalping-knife — The earth, where foe had grappled foe, The marks of mortal combat show : And here and there along the way In death's cold clasp my tribesmen lay. THE DISCOVERY I found her resting in the shade, — Beneath a palm her head was laid: Upon the damp and sodden ground My greatest treasure thus I found. A serpent glided from her side — Above a vulture circled wide : An arrow fixed within her breast. And bloody marks were on her vest. ** Zecana, love ! Zecana mine, A thousand lives were cheap for thine ! Thy tribesmen all — had they been nigh, Would guard thee safe, or gladly die ! But now too late — the deed is done And Spanish hate has victory won ! " My grief and tears I could not stay — My heart was broke — my brain gave way. In anguished thought an oath I swore. That Spanish blood should freely pour. THE POEM OF ZECANA The ruthless slayers, whom I cursed, Should feel my weight of vengeance first ! REVENGE Revenge ! That word has fearful power To nerve the soul in darkest hour ! Let timid souls beseech and pray ! 'Tis mine, when wronged, to smite and slay ! I sought with care to find the trail — And knew when found I should not fail ; The slightest mark upon the plain. To me gave sign, ne'er lost again. Where'er the foot of man had trod I traced its impress on the sod. I followed long the devious course, Where cunning tried its best resource : Through canyons deep and forests wide, O'er rocky cliff and mountain side — Until at last I saw a glade. O'er which the curling smoke-wreaths played. Here was the bourne for which I sought. Here to my hand my foe was brought ! And in my soul I madly laughed. For here Revenge might well be quaffed ! NIGHT When night her veil of darkness spreads. And earth and sky in silence weds. The tender moon refulgent grows. The parted clouds her face disclose : THE POEM OF ZECANA The lighted stars their lattice ope, And send a gleam of heavenly hope, A sign, that mortal hearts may know A spark divine still lives below. O'er rivers broad, and lake at rest. And o'er the ocean's mighty breast. O'er rocky cliffs, and meadows wide, And on the lofty mountain side Where grasses grow, and forests sigh, And insect voices make reply, — The silvery beams of sparkUng light. In pencilled rays grow doubly bright : The fall of waters to the ear On zephyrs borne, sounds doubly clear : While oft the song-birds' softened note From hidden spray doth gently float. Here quiet reigns ; and all proclaims. How wise the great Creator frames. 'Tis man alone whose strife demeans, And mars the joy of nature's scenes. So has it been, so must it be. Till warring factions all agree : And peace and friendship weld the band That holds the nations hand in hand. RETRIBUTION Such thoughts as these assume their sway, As I concealed in ambush lay ; But, as I gaze, before my eyes A startling vision seems to rise. 10 THE POEM OF ZECANA Two gleaming lights are in the air : One shines upon a forehead fair, Like loved Zecana's, lost, and dead, The other on the Spaniard's head. They beckon with alluring glow, I rise, and follow where they go. Unto the very block-house wall : Where they, like flambeaus, fade and fall But from the portent well I knew What way to win, what course pursue. The door flies open at my touch. My dagger's hilt I fiercely clutch : Where are the sentries ? Why so still ? Is this some ambush for my ill ? An instant's pause I make, and then I seek my foe 'mong sleeping men. O'ercome with wine perchance they lay. In slumbrous dreams their senses stray. I lightly tread, where noise were death ; And faces scan with bated breath. Long time I looked before I caught A glimpse of him for whom I sought. Then to his side I swiftly stole. To slay him there was in my soul : But vengeance thus were not complete ; A sudden death were much too sweet. A lengthened torture he must share. And many hours of anguish bear. Now with this thought I stayed my hand, A deeper vengeance I demand. THE POEM OF ZECANA II I took my lariat, deftly threw Around his neck, and tightly drew. When gagged and bound, I whispered, " Rise ! " Now, Spaniard, go ! Thou art my prize." One step beyond the lintel made, A voice gave challenge from the shade : Swift from its sheath my dagger flew. The blow I struck was straight and true. The sentry fell, his life had flown In needed ransom for my own. What is there more for me to say .-* For hours I sped upon my way, Before the Spaniard's followers knew Their chief was gone, or could pursue : Ere night again the earth had won, I found my laborous journey done, Again at home, though none might see, Nor loved one call, or come to me. Straightway I sought my faithful steed. Who never yet had failed my need : And when I called, with welcome neigh, He galloped gladly to obey : And laid his head within my hand. As was his wont at my command. My captive on his back I placed, And bound him fast with lariat laced : And while the steed he thus bestrode, Affrighted plunged beneath the load. Nor word of mine could soothe his fear, I hissed within the Spaniard's ear : 12 THE POEiM OF ZECANA " Now let thy soldiers ride behind, And match their speed against the wind: The steed thou ridest in his veins Has blood of Andalusian strains : He'll bear thee well : the cords that bind Will hold thee fast, as thou shalt find. The haunting winds about will play. The wolves will follow for their prey : Till thou dost plunge to endless night, And thus thy crime to me requite." Now, from my hold the steed set free, Like flash of light speeds o'er the lea : He tossed his mane, with eye of fire He bounded on, with fierce desire To loose himself from that he bore, And roam untrammelled as of yore. In vain he bounds, in vain he leaps. Or scales the heights, or sounds the deeps ; The burden still retains its hold. The body clings, though stark and cold : Nor can be freed or night or day, Unshaken still that senseless clay ; Until at last, his forces spent, The steed must fall, his life be shent : And ere the soul is well released. The Spaniard's heart shall vultures feast, The ravening wolves shall have their share. His quivering flesh to fragments tear. OUR FLAG 13 OUR FLAG Ode written for the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company, June, 1894 Thou glorious flag of freedom's air, With folds so grandly swelling, In every star emblazoned there. Proud memories are dwelling. Should danger come from any shore And fields grow rich with slaughter. In thy defence our hearts would pour Their crimson tide like water. Chorus Our flag, our flag, our country's flag ! Should danger e'er assail thee. The bugle's call will find us all ; We'll never, never fail thee ! II For life or death, our latest breath Would win thy greatest glory, And never shame should soil thy fame, Embalmed in song and story. Our sabres bright would guide the fight. While war-steeds, madly neighing. Would wildly dash where cannons flash. And hands were red with slaying. 14 OUR FLAG III Our infantry's united files, Like stone walls, would be steady To meet opposing foemen's wiles. And always would be ready. And when the bugle song shall cease Far in the foremost sally. Though woful were our ranks' decrease, The rest would sternly rally ! IV And when the star-eyed Peace returned, O'er Victory's field descending, And quenchless ardor in us burned For home and friends attending. What glorious welcome there would be For those who did their duty. And shouts of gladness, songs and glee. From lips of youth and beauty ! ODE OF GREETING TO THE HONOURABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY OF LONDON, ENGLAND ON THE OCCASION OF THE BANQUET GIVEN TO THAT HONOURABLE BODY BY THE ANCIENT AND HONORABLE ARTILLERY COMPANY OF BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A. AT THE NEW KING'S HALL, HOLBORN RESTAURANT On Thursday Evening, July 9, 1896 COMPOSED BY HENRY DEAN ATWOOD Appointed " Poet of the Occasion," at a meeting of the London Committee of the A. & H. A. Co., March 18, 1896 l6 ODE OF GREETING ODE OF GREETING To THE Honourable Artillery Company, of London, England, July 9, 1896 Tune, " God Save the Queen." I Long live this Ancient Corps; And may it evermore Be England's pride. Long may its banner wave Above the loyal brave, Confronting danger grave, Should it betide. II Afar beyond the sea A body, sprung from thee, Doth have its home ; Thy children greet thee here ; Thou art a parent dear, To whom their hearts are near, Too fixed to roam. Ill Ne'er may the fatal hour Of war's opposing power Peal out anew. And ne'er may hatred rise, To rupture friendly ties ODE OF GREETING 1/ That make us fond allies, And comrades true. IV And if, in time to come, The sound of fife and drum Smite either land. Let not the martial tread Be on our fallen dead ; Let not the blood be shed By brothers' hand. SOUVENIR JULY 9, 1 896 THE LAST ARROW By henry dean ATWOOD THE LAST ARROW 19 THE LAST ARROW Founded on an Incident of the French and Indian War, 1696 As the Indian lay in his peaceful glade, At rest on his couch of the deerskin made, He saw in a vision his tribe dispersed, And the warriors slain by a Race accursed ; Whom ages before wise prophets foretold Would come to their land for conquest and gold ; Who would seem like the angels, so white and so fair, So blue were their eyes, so golden their hair. And he tossed in his slumbers, and murmured low : " Alas for my people, they will melt like the snow ; They will vanish from earth, like the mist from the sun ; Their time is soon over, their race will be run. Concealed in their coverts, existing in pain ; Sought out by the foeman, discovered and slain." And his hand rested lightly, where lay by his side The young Indian princess, his early-won bride. And she woke with a shudder that chilled her heart's blood. As frost chills the fountain and chains up the flood. And she raised her lithe figure, and bending her ear. She listened and looked for the sound drawing near. 'Twas a tread like the cougar's, displacing the leaves. That even when wakeful the watcher deceives ; And she strained her fair vision o'er the landscape in sight Where the dark bending willow and hemlock unite, 20 THE LAST ARROW At the edge of the clearing, Hf ting branches on high ; Weaving figures fantastic, towering up to the sky. And she saw for an instant, 'neath the moon's pallid glow, A figure half standing, half crouching below ; And her heart stilled its beating ; the features proclaim A renegade white, lost to honor and shame ; Who long had pursued her, had fought with her sire, Had tortured her tribesmen with gauntlet and fire ; Had plundered their village, and captured their game, And given their wigwams to ravage and flame. 'Twas he, and no other ; she well knew the face, Peering out from the branches he thrust from their place. And over his features a baleful gleam passed, As a glance from his covert he rapidly cast. Then beneath the dark shadows again he withdrew. And hastened away to his murderous crew. And Neoskaleeta, a moment in prayer. Besought of great Manitou her people to spare ; Then she spoke to her warrior who slumbering lay : "Arouse, Kiodago, arouse thee, I say! De Graas is upon us, he follows us still. In hopes to surprise us, and so wreak his will ; Let the braves be assembled. Let the warriors all know They must fight to the death with their bitterest foe." Aroused in an instant by the warning she gave. Every sense was alert of her valorous brave ; He sprung from his couch, he seized on his bow. And his quiver of arrows about him doth throw ; Then bounded away to the fast-waning fires, And roused from their slumbers the warriors and sires. THE LAST ARROW 21 And soon they were stationed in ambush around, Each man like a statue, in silence profound. E'er the light of the dawning gave token of day. And the shades in the forest had dispersed at its ray. There was heard from the distance a murmurous sound : 'Twas the bands of the foeman encircling the ground. Soon the whites, ne'er suspecting their presence was known, Rushed with shouts on the wigwams, whose inmates had flown ; But they rushed to destruction, midway in career They were smote from each quarter with arrow and spear. The contest long doubtful, at last had an end ; The bright rays of morning the leaguers befriend. And betrayed in each recess the warriors concealed. And deprived of their shelter, it forced them to yield. They retreat fighting bravely, they sell their lives dear, For the heart of the Mohawk is callous to fear. When at last 'tis all over, and each rocky steep. Drenched with blood, showeth plainly the pathway they keep; Then the renegade, casting fierce glances around, Cries : " Seek out Kiodago ! The chief must be found ! " 'Mid the shot and the shout of the foe, as they fell, The prize that he sought for had vanished as well. And afar up the mountain to a grotto unknown. Ne'er heard of by white men, Kiodago has flown, 22 THE LAST ARROW And Neoskaleeta, with terror distraught, At last to this refuge in safety has brought. But as swift on their trail as the sleuth-hound can fly, Doth the renegade white with his followers hie. For oft had he seen, as he shared the same fire, And appeared as the friend of the princess' brave sire, The chief take his way to the far mountain's head. To gaze on the scene in its beauty outspread. Where the silvery waters lay curling below, That were fed by the springs of the pure mountain snow. And he cried in his joy, as he looked on his prize, " She is mine, she is mine ! And who thwarteth me dies ! " As he bounded aloft, how exultant the shout. That echoed and pealed through the wild wood about ; And quickened the flight of the fast-fleeing twain Till the dizziest height of the mountain they gain ; Where crevice and chasm, alike yawning wide. Spread a path of destruction upon either side. And here, 'neath the shelter of a storm-riven tree. They turn them at bay and their fell foeman see. He hath followed them far with a hatred dire, And a heart that was fed with a lustful fire. Now he pauses a moment, for the trail is lost ; But that moment proves fatal, his life is its cost. For the chief bends his bow, the string draweth tight ; And the arrow has flown with the speed of the light. It has cleft through his corselet to the vile traitor's heart : With a terrible cry, as he feels the fierce dart. THE LAST ARROW 23 He reels once about, with his arms wildly thrown, With a grasp at the air, and a life-ebbing groan ; E'er a hand could give aid, in convulsion's last throe He shot from the height to the dark gulf below. At the sight all his followers drew backward in fear ; And swiftly then fled, though the prize was so near. Now joy to the chieftain, whose danger is past, Whose quiver was empty, that arrow his last. 'Tis a tale of the past that my Muse has told ; Methinks with the ages it cannot grow old. While the human heart has its hopes and its fears, Its days of joy, as of grief and tears. The human heart is a mystery still. Will it listen at last to its Maker's will } Will it learn that to love is better than hate ; That the crimes of the past we must expiate ; That the Ruler of all, in the Ark divine. Will teach us the word and countersign ? Will open his arms, when we fall asleep, As the Shepherd would welcome his wandering sheep ; Will open his arms, and receive us all. If we will but list to his loving call ; And an equal care will on each bestow. With a look benign that we all shall know ? Ah ! Blessed be the day, and joyous the hour, When human passion no longer has power To kindle to hatred the hearts that, in peace, Forever should dwell in a happy release 24 THE LAST ARROW From war through the ages, in welfare and weal, Till the future of Time shall its purpose reveal. Till the waves that have smote us, the tempests that tore. Shall be silenced and calmed on eternity's shore. When the time shall come in the passing years, That the foe of to-day as our friend appears ; When the hand that holds the glittering sword Is stayed at the sound of a peaceful word ; When the echo of bells is borne on the air. As they tell of the Peace that rules everywhere ; When dissensions shall die, as die they must, When the guns are spiked, and the swords are rust ; When the plough shall run in its furrows wide, And the peaceful arts shall our progress guide ; Let the land of Columbia, where dwell the free. Be proudly the first with its kin to agree. And the hand in her friendship that England extends, Let us grasp it as heartily, and ever be friends. CIGAR SONG 25 CIGAR SONG Sung on Board the "Servia" You may talk of your fairies — Of your Nancys and Marys — That lure the fond lover from far, But there's not half the rapture In the kisses you capture That I taste in a fragrant cigar. Chorus O Yara, La Rosa, Sublima, Composa, La Reina Victoria, Cay-o-hu-so ; La Muria, Bellina, Manilla, Fleur Fina, Za Zuelo, Maduro, Sweet Figaro. II Through its fringe of dark lashes, As the maiden's eye flashes. You may swear 'tis as bright as a star; But no star in its splendor E'er beamed half so tender As the glow of my lighted cigar. 26 CIGAR SONG III Virgin charms when beholding, In your arms closely folding, You may feel like a Sultan or Czar; But there's not half the pleasure In the gain of the treasure, That I feel when I clasp a cigar. IV At the touch of Time's finger All in vain shall we linger. For the charms of our youth he will mar; We shall fall like the ashes. With a few fitful flashes, As they drop from a lighted cigar. THE MAYFLOWER 2/ THE MAYFLOWER OR POEM OF LIBERTY Behold the Mayflower on the sea, That bears the soul of Liberty — The Pilgrim band, a scanty flock, Defying wave and tempest's shock ! Not wealth is theirs, not land and gold, But courage high, and purpose bold. They sail afar from home and friends. To seek the Hght that Freedom sends ; They find a wild and sterile shore, No white man's foot e'er pressed before : Starvation's self, with praise and prayer, They taught their steadfast souls to bear. Through lengthened days of winter drear There was no heart gave way to fear. As time passed on, and years rolled by. Through winter's storm and summer's sky, They saw the virgin forests yield To broad expanse of fruitful field ; Whose bosom gave a guerdon rare To recompense the toiler's care. New homes appear — the smoke-wreaths rise From hearths the goodwife's hand supplies. 'Twas peaceful all — from morn to eve. No honest man had cause to grieve : But, well content with fortune's lot. He toiled each day, and murmured not. 28 THE MAYFLOWER But lo, the Indian rears his head, And strikes his fangs, with venom dread The Indian, feared by young and old, Whose savage deeds have oft been told : The cottage burned, the inmates slain. And many a hapless captive ta'en ! Long years it took of deadly strife 'Gainst tomahawk and scalping-knife, Before the settlers could subdue The red man's wild and savage crew. Then greater wars more deadly rage, As we can learn from history's page; Until we sought alone to stand. And left our mother's guiding hand. But let no cause for hatred dire Between each kindred race transpire ! Let tyrant war withdraw his blade. Content with havoc erstwhile made. Let envy come, with cunning plea. To prove how false the truth can be — Unwilling ears to her we turn, And from our presence quickly spurn ! But there are counsels wise and good, When they are rightly understood. That neither force nor fear demand. But firm for truth and justice stand. Let such be heard, when cause appears ; Let such not meet unwilling ears ! Choose Arbitration's gentle school, Where force before had iron rule. ENGLISH TOASTS 29 ENGLISH TOASTS Voice of the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company Three cheers for Mother England, Where peace and comfort dwell ; Three cheers for Queen Victoria, Who has ruled so long and well. Three cheers for Albert Edward, And all the royal line ; Illustrious through the ages May their descendants shine. Three cheers for London City, Home of wealth and spacious marts ; The welcome that she gave us Will be stamped upon our hearts. Three cheers for British soldiers. Who on the field of fame Have died for Queen and Country, And the glory of Her name. Three cheers for British sailors, Such as heard the cannon roar. With Nelson at the Nile, And again at Elsinore. 30 ENGLISH TOASTS The meteor flag of England, With the Stars and Stripes unfurled, They may wave aloft together, And dominate the world ! Let our quarrels have an ending. Let our nations both agree ; And with hearts and voices blending. Let us cheer the H. A. C. ! THE FRENCH PEASANT'S SONG 31 THE FRENCH PEASANT'S SONG What care I for battles and wars — What care I for wounds and scars ! Here is my hut by the mountain side, Here is my wife, to live by my side ! The battle may rage, and when it is done, What is the gain of the victory won ? The eagles may fly, the cohorts may pour. The bugle may sound, the cannon may roar — But over it all the shades of Despair Will hover in gloom with the fiends of the air. A victory won is a victory lost ; And the heart of a Nation must bleed as its cost. Nevermore should the sword be bathed in the flow Of the rivers of blood that may run from the foe ! Let Peace spread her wings o'er the whole human race. And the despot o'erthrown to the freeman give place. Note. — Travellers in Europe are continually reminded of the military despotism which prevails everywhere. Women are seen at daily toil in the fields, and elsewhere, doing work which in America is done by men. It is rare to find a man in any walk of life who has not served at some time in the army. 32 THE DEAD COMMANDER THE DEAD COMMANDER Hurrah ! hurrah ! The fight is won ; The last is sabred at his gun : The dead and dying all around, With life-blood stain the trampled ground ; But still the panting heart doth feel The ring of shot and clash of steel. The smoke of powder fills the air, That to our ears the murmurs bear Of those who groan and gasp with pain ; And still with failing efforts strain To rise, and find some shelter near, Where they can rest and have no fear. What fearful shrieks and awful groans To send a shudder through the bones. Here lies a horse, and there a man, I stop his pallid face to scan. Still, calm, and white, with noble brow. And eyes that bear the death-seal now. I knew thee well, an hour ago Thy stately form was pacing slow Before the lines, with words of cheer. And to thy soldiers thou wert dear. Thy words, they drove all thought away, Save eager wishes for the fray, That then and there, with thrust and blow. We might be hurled upon the foe. THE DEAD COMMANDER 33 To please our leader we would dare All hardships, dangers, and despair. But he is dead, and we must mourn ; And direful vengeance we have sworn. Farewell, farewell ! O soldier heart. That always took the manly part ; Thy soldiers feel 'tis fearful cost. The fight is won, but thou art lost. 34 THE SOLDIER BOY THE SOLDIER BOY I " Farewell to thee, farewell to thee, My loved one, and my dearie ; For Spanish might is at its height, And Spanish hearts are cheery ; Of waiting still for further ill I feel I'm growing weary ; And ere the dawn I must be gone, And so farewell, my dearie." II *' Come weal or woe, I bid thee go, My faithful soldier laddie. With Heaven's blessings on thy head, And mine, my own dear Caddie. And take the glaive your father gave, When he left us thegither With this request, his last behest. That we should love each ither." Ill Sae Nannie said, sae Nannie said, The sweet one, and the sonsie ; Should I nae fight wi' all my might, I'm sure it wad be donsie. THE SOLDIER BOY 35 The Spanish need is sore indeed And all their fields are hastie ; Of Cuba's soil they make their spoil, For they are bred to wastrie. IV But in an' out, and all about, Sae gallantly they stump it, They ne'er will yield the battle-field, Till they are nicely thumpit. Sae I will gae, come weal or wae, As bold as any Roman, Thro' Simmer's heat, or Winter's sleet, To meet the Spanish foeman. 36 THE BLUE AND GRAY THE BLUE AND GRAY Poem written for Memorial Day, May 30, 1898 I When last we placed our gift of flowers Above our comrades resting, The white-winged dove of Peace was ours, No thought of harm molesting : But how a spectral form appears To stay the life-blood bounding, And women's hearts are filled with fears. The call to arms is sounding. II On Chickamauga's tented field Our valiant host reposes, Grim-visaged War's uplifted shield His wrinkled front discloses : His gaze is turned across the waves To Cuba's fair possession. Where starving thousands fill their graves Beneath proud Spain's oppression. Ill The North and South together meet — Not now, as once, contending ; One starry flag alike they greet, One country both defending : THE BLUE AND GRAY 37 And when they move with martial tread Where shot and shell are rending, In dust must bow the Spaniard's head, His power will have its ending. IV O Cuba, fair and fertile isle, With countless beauties glowing. On thee once more may plenty smile At nature's rich bestowing : May Victory crown with golden days Thy faithful Patriots' yearning — And wreathe them with immortal bays For future Time's discerning. The Blue and Gray will gladly come To aid thee in thy battle ; The spirit-stirring fife and drum Will join the musket's rattle ; And madly, higher, peal on peal, Where sounds the cannon loudest. Their serried ranks of gleaming steel Will ever march the proudest. VI Havana, on thy buttressed shore Thou wilt at last awaken ; And thou wilt hear the sullen roar, As all thy walls are shaken: 38 THE BLUE AND GRAY The whirling smoke will hide thy spires, The volleying shot will thunder, Thy hopes be turned to funeral pyres, And Morro rived asunder. VII And when the clouds have rolled away, No more thy sky concealing — O Cuba, thou wilt best repay With grateful heart and feeling The land that not for power or gain Her helping hand extended — But freed thee from the tyrant's chain, And all thy rights defended. VIII Through all the change of coming Time — Whatever it discloses — Thy heart should beat with ours in chime. Thy safety thus reposes. Seek Education's highest steep. Fill youth with love of learning. And ever on thy altars keep The fires of freedom burning. THE DOUBLE DESERTION 39 THE DOUBLE DESERTION Recited before W. H. Bartlett Post 3, G. A. R., May, 1890 It was moonlight on the waters, and the stars shone clear and bright, And the sentry's musket glistened through the shadows of the night. As he paced his lonely round upon the fair Potomac's shore. While he thought of home and kindred that might never greet him more ; And his hand drew forth a locket that beneath his vest he wore. That to him was greater treasure and more precious than the mine Where bright gems are found in clusters, and the spar- kling metals shine ; For enshrined he saw the image of the maid to him most dear. Thrice he raised it to his lips, and still again he held it near. While affection in his bosom claimed the tribute of a tear. At that moment from the distance came what seemed a stealthy tread. And he crouched beneath the shadow, where some tangled branches spread ; 40 THE DOUBLE DESERTION Then he listened, cocked his musket, put his locket 'neath his vest, And still deeper in the shadow there reclined upon his breast. And the musket firmer, closer, as the sound approached him, pressed. Soon the underbrush was parted and a man came into view ; And he threw a hurried glance around, as one in haste would do, When he fears some lurking danger, like a Nemesis at hand, But hopes to 'scape it bravely by some means that he has planned. And whose fainting hopes, when drooping, are by fresh exertions fanned. He could little dream what danger there was lurking for his ill. For the scene was like a picture, 'twas so peaceful and so still ; When all fiercely sprang the sentry from the shadow where he lay. With his musket firm presented, and before him stood at bay. " Halt," he cried, " for friend or foeman can no farther pass this way ! " Was it cowardice that led him ? Nay, for that were infamy ! THE DOUBLE DESERTION 4I First to hurl aside the sentry, and so swiftly then to flee — Straight before him lay the forest, and he thither bent his flight ; But the sentry, fast pursuing, of the fugitive caught sight — And his trusty musket quickly fired and the bullet sped aright. For he staggered once and tottered — and the instant after fell, And remorse upon the sentry evermore affixed its spell ; For he hastened toward the body, and he turned it on its side As he murmured : " Some deserter who untimely thus has died ! " But he recognized the features, — " Oh ! my brother ! " then he cried. And he bore the body back again, and laid it 'neath the moon — Ah ! 'twas shame and pity, noble youth, thy spirit fled so soon; For with speed the news was bruited, at the coming of the dawn. Through the Southern camp a tremor ran, a noble heart was gone. " He deserted, and he perished," but they said it not with scorn. 42 THE DOUBLE DESERTION For, denied all leave of absence, yet his heart was ever true, And upon the wings of love to meet his own sweetheart he flew. She was o'er Potomac's water, far beyond its swelling tide. Was the fair one who, betrothed to him, had sworn to be his bride ; And there ne'er could be a nobler pair in all the world beside. Who shall dare convey the news to her ? If any be so bold, Let him pray for nerves of triple strength and heart that's icy cold. They be few can stay a woman's tears, or soothe her in distress : Since the balm so offered fails to heal, e'en silence wounds her less; And proud manhood, when it deigns to bend, is rough in tenderness. 'Twas the very day appointed to unite their destiny — But a single hour was wanting of their marriage jubilee. When the fatal news was whispered by a messenger who sped. To bring tidings to the living of the lover that was dead. Ah ! the blow indeed was bitter that could bow her lovely head. THE DOUBLE DESERTION 43 But she drew herself all bravely up — a smile was on her lips — Ah ! 'twas such a smile as comes but once, just ere the soul's eclipse — And she whispered, calm and clearly, though the words were very few, *' I am going, darling mother, and shall now desert you too." Then with hand above her heart she stopped, and deathly pale she grew. And she sank upon the floor, but gave no utterance of pain; Though all efforts to restore her were exerted, they were vain : Drooping like some lovely flower, that a careless hand hath flung. From the only rest it knew to love, and where it fondly clung. Fell the maiden, pale and dying, with those words upon her tongue. 44 THE CRETAN MAID THE CRETAN MAID An Episode of the Cretan Insurrection in 1867 I LIVED awhile at Arcadi, near Ida's rocky pile, The happiest child that you could find in all the Cretan isle. The good priests taught me many things that peasants seldom know ; In hidden lore unknown before I found my knowledge grow. And as with years I gained in strength — in stature gaining too — ''It yet kept pace but ill," they said, ''with learning's swift accrue." I used to climb Mount Ida's side, and gaze upon the flood — ^gean's purple sea that rolled, at sunset tinged with blood. Around our isle — and pondered there, as fancies wild and strange Came flitting by like birds in air, whose tireless pinions range Above, below, on every side, extending far and near Their errant course — no sooner gone than, lo ! they reappear. I oft looked o'er to Standia ; it seemed a little gem Set in a waving robe, I thought our island formed its hem. THE CRETAN MAID 45 These purling brooks and streams that flow across from side to side Are little bands of velvet cord to promontories tied, To hold the grassy turf that forms a mantle, fresh and green. The cover of our mother isle ; and Standia, I ween. Must be her child, since by her side so closely there it stays. And never, fearing to be lost, to longer distance strays. Thoughts of a child, though pleasant ones ; more pleas- ure then I took In thinking such than now I find since all things wear a look Devoid of ideality ; the hues that once they wore. By sterner themes and time effaced, will come to them no more. At sixteen I removed to live on Sphakiot's rugged hill. Though sore indeed I wept to leave, and much against my will. My father's time was there employed — he wished to have me near ; My mother, long an invalid, increased his anxious fear. He trusted too that once with him, I would the sooner learn To love a shepherd-youth that I, against his will, did spurn. 46 THE CRETAN MAID And so I went — a panting dove — a bird that would be free, While in its cage constrained to sing, its heart beats wearily. Five years I passed — the shepherd aye was pressing with his suit ; And when repulsed, would not forbear — my father, so astute, Would bid him hope: ** She'll have you yet — do not despair, my lad." While I would weep — my mother sigh — before him seeming glad. When those five years — sad lustrum 'twas — their round had made complete One day we heard — lost in surprise — of war com- menced in Crete. A neighbor brought the news to us — we all knew what he meant — "We must be broken now," said he, ''no longer will be bent." tIv "sf tJc v|c tw 'I* *|* O ye ! who freedom's birthright win, who shatter and destroy The barriers to conscience set, be joyful with great joy! Ye know not how great happiness, what treasure, ye have found ; There are who deeply yearn for this, by galling fetters bound. ******* THE CRETAN MAID 47 Full soon there came in zealous haste, a priest from Arcadi, To speak with us on Sphakiot's mount, and urge us to be free. The shepherds gathered far and near to listen to his word ; And I stood by, intenser fired each moment as I heard. Until at length I seized his robe, and cried and prayed togo — " Nay, nay, my child, it cannot be ! Do not detain me so ! "And, lass," my father whispered me, "you should not be so bold — Here's Cuthbert, noble lad, will go — you treat him haught and cold — Disdainfully you look on him — he loves with all his heart — His dearest wish — his sole desire — is this, that ere you part. He have assurance from your lips — one word to give him hope — That should he live — when all is o'er — the Moslem thraldom broke. Returning, he be welcomed as — But see, he draweth nigh ! A father makes his last request — his child, will she comply } " He said and turned. My pulses stopped — my throat was parched with fire. Convulsively I gasped for breath: "I'll do your will, my sire." 48 THE CRETAN MAID And Cuthbert heard and bowed his head : " True love does not obey, I cannot take the hand you give — I free you from this day ! " And soon beyond my straining sight was marching for the field, With others of our noblest youth — Religion's living shield. As sunk the sun one autumn eve, I kissed my mother's cheek. Who, wearied by her toils that day, unconscious lay in sleep ; And by the lustrous stars set out with purpose long delayed. To seek my sire and Cuthbert's side — the Convent's leaguered shade. For in my breast was strange unrest ; a fervor ill-con- cealed Since they were gone, possessed my soul. My full in- tent revealed Within a note I left for her 'gainst she should wake next day, When I, too late for her recall, was far upon my way. With tireless step the livelong night, and guided by the moon, I pressed upon my anxious course. The sun was high at noon THE CRETAN MAID 49 Before I reached the Convent's wall — the Turkish hordes around * Were safely passed — without demur my way within I found. ******* "O Hero, why have you come here to tempt untoward fate, Since even now the foe press on, and thunder at our gate ? If we avoid a sudden doom — thus dark the prospect lowers — And 'scape the battle's deadly rage, more fearful lot is ours ; For worse by far captivity, the Moslem's vengeful hold, And Cretan maid should ne'er endure its misery untold." The good priest said — I would have knelt — "Abstain, 'tis vanity ! Kneel to your God, when you would pray ; but, daugh- ter, not to me. Since you, a child, in fancies wild did mingle talk and play, I watched you, and as you grew old in learning's deeper way, And as the grace of womanhood its budding beauties bore. Your tutor's heart in secret burned with love for you the more. 50 THE CRETAN MAID I fear to-morrow we must yield ! — Nay, pardon, 'tis not fear ! For if resistance sJiould be vain, my earthly end is near. One hope is left, one final trust, in you that hope remains; A secret mission must be filled, this billet all explains, Which I intrust. In some disguise your person must be dressed. Before the morrow's morn steal forth, you so will serve us best. When you have passed beyond the lines, hie swiftly to the shore, Peruse the billet then at dawn, for I can say no more." The good priest gazed within mine eyes, serenely, steadfast, long. Then touched his lips upon my brow, and I felt doubly strong. With anxious heart I left his side, strange fears were in my soul. But with a safe disguise, at length in silence forth I stole. By well-known ways I picked my path, the sentries safely passed. And reached beyond the Turkish lines a sheltered place at last. ^f> ^ :j/> ^ ^ ^ ^ Just as the sun o'er ocean's brim his rising beams displayed, And all the gleaming mountain tops in sudden light arrayed, THE CRETAN MAID 5 1 There came upon the ambient air a dull and distant sound, That smote my startled ears with dread, and shook the hills around. With one convulsive throe they shook, as when the stifled blast Of direful earthquake, long pent up, doth rive its way at last. A backward look I threw, and saw (my very brain did spin), A sight that I shall ne'er forget. Where Arcadi had been. High in the air a smoke arose, with scattered frag- ments vast. With many a streak of lurid flame the sky was overcast. And at that dull and dread report a sense of numbing pain. As if I lay in deadly swoon, oppressed my heart and brain. I looked again, as like a pall the darkness settled down. The fires died out, the fragments fell ! I neared Rhit- ymnae's town. The billet seized, with eager hand the slight seal open tore. And read these words : ** Dear Hero mine, you ne'er will see me more. I could not bear that you should die, and as a last resource, I bade you take this billet out, as far the wiser course. 52 THE CRETAN MAID It was our only hope, I said — 'twas true, no dearer boon On earth than this could granted be that you should 'scape — but soon, Before you open this perchance, my hands will fire the flame That with the morning's sun shall rise. Farewell." And then the name " Manissi," signed. It was his hand, 'twas he destroyed the fane. Fair Arcadi is now no more, the monastery's ta'en. Manissi, brave dead hero, from this deed of thine shall spring Remembrance — fame most glorious, with which the world shall ring. For me, come, blest oblivion ! O blue ^gean Sea, Thy scattered waves above me close, and set my spirit free. THE MAINE 53 THE MAINE Beneath Havana's waters drear The shattered Maine is lying ; No more her gallant crew will hear The winds through cordage sighing, — No more the battle's shock be near, With guns to guns replying, — Their mangled forms to us appear — Their blood to us is crying ! What recreant heart would sue for peace To meet with Spain's denying? Behold starvation's swift increase — Behold the Cubans dying ! The wretched warfare now must cease, Or else, all power defying. Our arms must bring them safe release, Our flag o'er Spain's be flying ! 54 OUR DESTINY OUR DESTINY For eight and twenty summers the earth has smiled on man, Producing golden harvests by Heaven's bounteous plan, Since first was heard from Sumter the cannon's opening roar That told of war's beginning — and hope of peace was o'er! And well do I remember that fateful April day That called from many a fireside the best beloved away — The sixteenth day of April — it dawned so bright and clear 'Twas hard to think Rebellion with all its woes so near! But soon the troops were marching — the ranks they swiftly fill From foundry and from workshop — from counting- house and mill — We watched the train departing that takes them from our eyes, The first upon their journey to distant Southern skies, While tears and faltering accents betray the aching heart Of those they loved the dearest, compelled from them to part. So prompt were they to answer their country's urgent call, They won the proud distinction of being first of all. OUR DESTINY 55 In vain were the endeavor of each event to tell Of what upon their progress of lesser note befell, But soon on board a transport they swiftly put to sea, And left the lights of Boston fast fading on their lee. At midnight of the nineteenth their little vessel lay Within the Southern waters awaiting for the day. The morning sun is bursting the misty clouds of night. And Chesapeake's blue waters are sparkling in the light. Save where a gloomy fortress frowns darkly o'er the wave. And all beneath its shadow is as silent as the grave. Upon its sullen ramparts, as first they come to view, His eager glances turning, gazes many a boy in blue, To see if from the flag-staff, when morning gun shall sound. In all its glory floating, the Stars and Stripes are found ; And loud the cheers resounding, when slowly on the air. Our country's flag, unfurling, displays its colors fair ! The vessel then draws nigher — beneath the frowning guns. To seek her proper moorings all fearlessly she runs. The lines are swiftly fastened, the gang-plank strikes the shore. And quickly disembarking the troops rejoicing pour. The first to gain a foothold upon the sacred soil. And make in old Virginia a Southern fort their spoil, 56 OUR DESTINY Were troops of Massachusetts — and proudly in the van Was Company G of Taunton, whose triumphs thus began, And from this fair beginning the glorious record runs Through all that bloody contest of all our gallant sons. Great Bethel cries to Malvern — Port Hudson to Brashear — At Fair Oaks fell our bravest — and Mary's Heights cost dear. From Bull Run's first encounter to Gettysburg's last day At roll-call they were present, and ready for the fray. At Fredericksburg's great slaughter they stormed the heights in vain. At Gaines's Mill's fierce onset they shed their blood like rain. They made the march with Sherman from Atlanta to the sea In every duty faithful as ever men could be ! Among the deeds of daring that win immortal fame. And ever throw a halo upon a soldier's name. The storming of Port Hudson is one I wish to tell, For there it was our hero, the gallant Bartlett, fell. For days before Port Hudson the weary army lay, And gazed upon the ramparts, all eager for the fray. And when the word is given, how gallantly they go To storm the high entrenchments, well guarded by the foe! While gun to gun replying, with fierce volcanic breath. But urges on their ardor within the jaws of death. OUR DESTINY 57 Above and all around them the sounds of horror swell — The pounding of the cannon — the bursting of the shell — The rapid fire of muskets — the grape-shot hurtling past — With many a wail of anguish — are borne upon the blast! It was a bloody slaughter, a sacrifice in vain, And gallant Bartlett fallen, is numbered with the slain. And if above his ashes there fall no friendly tear, No less his cherished memory to every heart is dear. And now another picture, most vividly defined In all its salient features, is present to my mind — There is a mighty river with waters flowing free Round many a jutting headland to mingle with the sea. The live-oaks spread their branches above the heaving tide, And groves of graceful palm-trees extend on every side ; Unto the gloomy cypress the pendent mosses cling. And birds of brilliant plumage are ever on the wing. The orange and magnolia in regal beauty grow And on the perfumed breezes delicious odors throw ; Within its mazy cane-brakes the tawny leopards hide. And oft the stealthy wild-cat comes creeping by their side. The raccoon and opossum, the bear with shaggy skin, The rattlesnake and moccasin, each has a home within. The hunted deer in safety might seek a shelter there, Nor fear in such seclusion the hunter's cruel snare. 58 OUR DESTINY Among the waving grasses that haunt the river's brim Aquatic birds disporting in countless numbers swim. Within the dark morasses, with cypress overgrown, An army might be hiding, nor have their secret known; And oft from beds of rushes, whereon he likes to sleep, The alligator plunges within the slimy deep ; And when the Queen of Heaven awakes the gloomy night, And casts on every object a veil of silvery light. The scene is like enchantment, and never mortal eye Beheld a fairer picture beneath a fairer sky. 'Twas thus my fancy painted in childhood's early dreams The mighty Mississippi — the paragon of streams. But when in times of danger its bank became a screen To shelter lurking foemen, who thence could strike unseen. It took a heart of courage to stem its mighty tide. And brave the hidden batteries deployed on either side. But see, there comes a gunboat around a distant bend. That through opposing currents her tireless engines send. The wooded heights above her show dimly fair and blue. While ploughs the gallant vessel the foaming waters through. Upon the deck is standing a young and stalwart form. Embrowned with long exposure, and battling with the storm, — OUR DESTINY 59 His fearless eye is glancing from point to point around, Observant if the enemy may anywhere be found. But all is wrapped in silence, no signs of life appear. Remote seems every danger and idle every fear; When, like the crash of thunder from summer's cloud- less sky. There comes the roar of cannon, and echoes wild reply. And, ere the fading smoke-wreaths have ceased to curl and play, Upon that gallant vessel a bleeding victim lay. The fearless eye is glazing that looked upon the shore, The lids are gently closing that ne'er shall open more ; The heart that beats so faintly within the heaving breast Will have its labors over and soon will be at rest ; The limbs will stiffen slowly, all stark the body lie, — But still the fame of Swasey will live and never die. Full many are the heroes on honor's page enrolled, Beside the bright examples of whom my muse has told. But not to native valor must praise alone be due. There were who came among us — the noble and the true. Who joined in every danger, who fought on every field, Whose lives must first be ended ere they themselves would yield. Can those who love their country forget what they have done — Brave souls like those of Ruby — the father and the son } 6o OUR DESTINY And if, on fields of battle, when strife is raging high, Contending for one's country, it glorious be to die ; When death comes swift and sudden — an instant and no more — To feel the pang of dying, and have the struggle o'er, — How doubly brave the soldier who has his wounds to bear. Who knows the battle useless, yet struggles with despair, Who lingers weak and weary — nor will his lips com- plain Through nights of constant languor and days of cease- less pain, — How brave and true that hero, and doubly blest at last, When Peace has dawned forever and all his pains are past ! 'Twas such a noble courage, victorious over all* That marked the dauntless spirit of brave Lieutenant Paull. These instances are given where hundreds might be found, Each man as true a hero as those the laurel crowned Within the distant ages, when over every zone The Roman legions triumphed, and claimed the world their own. They bore disease and suffering — those noble, fearless men — At Andersonville and Libby — within the prison pen — They died to save their country on many a well-fought field — Her hope in time of danger, her refuge and her shield. OUR DESTINY 6l Like some proud ship dismasted, and torn by many a blast, That rides through storm and tempest, and reaches port at last, They came, each worn survivor, their years of struggle o'er, To seek their homes and firesides, and clasp their own once more. Some were by wounds disabled, and some by fevers worn. Of strength and pristine vigor by cruel hardship shorn. But they their lives have perilled — their health have lost in vain. If we, with tightened purse-strings, from needed help refrain. The widow and the orphan — the nation's wards are they — To them with liberal bounty let her the debt repay ! And every soldier living who stands to-day in need. Should know a generous treasury his wants will surely heed; Had they to us been faithless, nor stopped Rebellion's way. What prospect would the future to loyal hearts por- tray } Would now the expanding country be proudly, grandly free — Or to some foreign despot be forced to bend the knee ? 62 OUR DESTINY What meant, in that great contest, success to loyal arms ? It meant industrial progress, and growing marts and farms ; It meant the South a wilderness no longer should re- main, That factories and work-shops should dot the hill and plain ; The treasures of the mountains, the power within the streams. Should yield, at man's endeavor, beyond his wildest dreams. It meant the end of slavery — that none on Southern soil Should bend beneath the burden of unrequited toil ; While slow and sure the leaven will work within the mass. And time will see the bondmen a higher, better class. The broad and distant prairies should all be ploughed and tilled. And with industrious labor each section should be filled. This country, the asylum for those from foreign lands, Should give them home and happiness, rich guerdon to their hands. No longer forced in armies to waste their manhood's dower. Through years of tedious service to grace some tyrant's power, In peace and calm contentment pursue their humble way, Rejoicing in the fortune that gives them leave to stay. OUR DESTINY 63 'Tis education's province within the public school To burst the clouds of ignorance that mark the despot's rule. Shall we who now inherit this land 'neath freedom's sky — Hard won by blood and treasure — e'er pass its danger by? See e'er a blow insidious — or open though it be — Aimed at the purest sources of truth and liberty, Without such grand uprising and universal frown, As will at once prove fatal, and strike the danger down ? Let every free-born citizen so guide his growing years As best to curb that danger, and set at rest our fears. Let our adopted citizens their full allegiance give To those who rule this country, and do not elsewhere live. And in that blest millennium, beneath the future's sun. One hundred years of progress may find the problem done. Behold from Arctic Ocean unto the Southern Sea A country all united — a land and people free — From wild Atlantic's surges to broad Pacific's shore Columbia's banner floating triumphant evermore. 64 THE SOLDIER'S RETURN THE SOLDIER'S RETURN See the veterans, home returning, In their breasts wild ardor burning, For their wives and sweethearts dear! Disappointment many meeting. When no darling gives them greeting ; Heaves the breast with anxious fear, Lest through peril and privation They have toiled and saved the nation. But have been forgotten here — Lest the ones they most have cherished Know nor care if they have perished. Nor are watching now to cheer ! As they scan the sea of faces. Who can wonder that the traces Of all gladness disappear, When the doubts within grow stronger That their love is theirs no longer ? Who can marvel at the tear Stealing slowly from the lashes. Bronzed hand impatient dashes. As it gleams a moment clear ? See yon hero turn, repressing Half his grief, some friend addressing, Whispering thus within his ear : — " Have our lives been saved in battle From the rudest shock, and rattle Of the musketry's uproar — THE SOLDIER'S RETURN 65 From the storm, like hail, descending. Of the hurtling grape-shot, rending Everything that stood before — From the horsemen, madly dashing, With their sweeping sabres flashing, Whom their steeds, like Centaurs, bore, In the fiery, fierce collision Of the charge on our division. Where the grass grew red with gore, While the sunlight, faintly streaming. Shows the polished bayonet gleaming, As our hosts opposing pour. With our silken banners flaunting. And our gallant leaders vaunting There was victory in store — Then at home at last arriving. All our wounds and toils surviving, There should be none at the fore, Who would welcome, or embrace us, By the cheerful ' ingle ' place us. To recount our battles o'er ? " '' By the things that we hold dearest — By the tenderest, and the nearest — By the joy that we are free — By the grateful thanks we render To our country's true defender — Soldier, No, it cannot be ! Where the crowd is densest surging. From the midst of it emerging, Is a maiden ! Don't you see 66 THE SOLDIER'S RETURN How she beckons you, with laughter, And with tears, quick following after, All excitement ? Man, 'tis she ! With her waving kerchief flowing. And her flaxen ringlets blowing All about her, in her glee, 'Tis your sweetheart ! Now, surrender For the first time, brave defender Of your country, bow the knee, And acknowledge your repining; With her arms about you twining, Soon, I think, she will agree On a pardon and condonement; If you wish to make atonement, Get a ring, for clemency." THE LIGHT-BOAT 6^ THE LIGHT-BOAT The waters flow, old ocean roars ; And, far and near, along the shores The white surf dashes. Whitens and flashes. Laving the rocks in play. Andj out upon their heaving crests, The light-boat dances, and then breasts The huge waves welling, Bounding and swelling. Peacefully through the day. But, when the lightning blazes high. And thunder rolls along the sky. The storm-king daring. Fearless, unsparing, Holdeth the reins in hand. O'er raging seas, both fast and far, He rideth in his whirlwind car. And waves descending. Writhing and blending. Rush to the hard sea-sand. The light-boat then, while shining bright, And gladdening every sailor's sight. Doth strive, while gleaming, Battleth, while beaming. Scorning the storm-king's blows. 68 THE LIGHT-BOAT And all his strength defies, resists, As mail-clad knight within the lists, Where blows ring loudly, Beareth him proudly. Conquering all his foes. THE SEA-GULL 69 THE SEA-GULL I Borne by the gale, thou proud sea-gull, Thou sweep'st the realms of air; The mountain waves thy slumbers lull, Their cradle thou dost share. The steamer cleaves her snowy track, Be the sun or dull or clear. In peaceful hour, or tempest's wrack, And still thou hoverest near. Why hauntest thou this floating home, Three thousand miles and more, O'er trackless wastes of ocean's foam, Where countless billows pour .'' Art thou some spirit, all unblessed. No night or day transpires To suffer thee to gain that rest. Thy longing soul desires ? What means the cry thy worn heart gave. As thou went'st sweeping by As daylight fades beyond the wave. Far in the western sky ? II Again thou comest nigh, And sailest through the sky, With white wings spread — «0 THE SEA-GULL Above the cloud-capped waves, In whose unfathomed caves Lie bones of ancient dead! What recks the empty skull If days be bright or dull, The vacant sockets' stare ! What now are joys of earth — Its pastimes, or its mirth — Its ladies bright and fair! The bones on Ocean's floor, If they could rise once more. And veins with life could fill ; If silent lips could speak. What crimes would blanch the cheek, And tales of fearful ill ! The hand that held the sword, That sprung at idle word. When Vikings crossed the sea — Again in deadly grip With blood would foully drip. And direful things would be! "Art thou some corsair bold. That still retainest hold. On treasures in the deep? That watchest night and day. Where sepulchred they lay. And nevermore canst sleep ? For past and fearful crime. Until the end of Time, And thou art then set free, THE SEA-GULL 7 1 Must on the nightly blast Thy silent wings go past, And sweep across the sea?" Ill "My spirit floating here, That thou beholdest near, Forever seeks its mate! She perished, all unknown. When the storms of night had blown, And the waves were mad with hate ! Wild waters swept the deck — The faintly heaving wreck Soon sunk from mortal sight! There was a stifled cry — The shrieking winds went by That calmed with morning's light! But o'er the broad expanse, As far as eye could glance, No sign of life was seen! Down many a fathom deep They slept their dreamless sleep — Both she, and all, I ween. And I, since youthful prime. Must haunt the shore of Time, Nor can I find release! How mild soe'er the day When light or shadows play My heart will feel no peace! 72 THE SEA-GULL Forever I must go, In pain, and hopeless woe, Till Time shall be no more And then my happy breast Will find a peaceful rest On some immortal §hore." A GOOD SHIP AND A GALLANT CREW 73 A GOOD SHIP AND A GALLANT CREW The watery main before my eyes, The murky clouds above me, Beneath my feet a ship that flies To home and friends that love me. No other sail or ship is seen. No sentient life around me; Upheaving waves the hull careen, And surges white surround me. But hark ! the gale comes rising high, The tautened cordage cracking ; And plunging forward the ship doth fly. Nor speed nor courage lacking. O'er wave, o'er sea, o'er mound, o'er hill, Down mighty hollows gliding. She moves apace, and spurns them still. Serenely onward riding. 74 WAVES WAVES Waves, voracious, devouring, Thy hollow chasms yawning. White-crested, pouring thy might, Skyward sending thy spray ! Above ye a sky, Gloomy and lowering ; Strong is our shallop, Bounding, careering, Borne on thy shoulders. Swiftly, right swiftly, And thyself scorning ! Dark grow the billows, Let them grow darker ! Here is our helmsman, True and undaunted, He will look forward, Firmly controlling. All through the darkness. Till bright comes the morning. THE FAIR HARBOR 75 THE FAIR HARBOR Beyond the wave There lies a fair harbor; Over the water There's a friendly shore ; And a Beacon light beaming, Where bright eyes are dreaming, And fond lips are calling Me o'er and o'er. 76 JOY AND SUNLIGHT JOY AND SUNLIGHT Curling breeze, and swelling sail, Bear us o'er the Ocean's swale ; Jocund hearts, and spirits gay. Smiling, smiling all the way ! Little fleets of smaller craft Fear to breast the billow's path. But we trust our cordage stout, Run and luff, and come about. THE SEA-NYMPH 77 THE SEA-NYMPH The profound roars of ocean Its hungry heart betray; While scattered sea-mews follow, And linger on our way ; And o'er the vessel's foretop Come driving sheets of spray. Anon she plunges downward, The foam beneath her falls; The baffled surge, retiring, In wrinkled surface crawls : And lo ! beneath most sweetly A luring sea-nymph calls. She calls the broken-hearted, She smiles upon their tears; " Come find within my bosom The vanished peace of years; Forever hear my murmurs Within thy happy ears. My arms shall be about thee, My kisses on thy brow : Oh, come from thy distresses, Oh, listen to my vow! And peace shall be thy heritage Oh, come and join me now. y8 ■ THE SEA-NYMPH Come, plunge to meet thy loved one, Forever more to stay : See how the curling foam-wreaths About us both will play ! See how the hours of sunshine Will gladly pass away. And dost thou shrink to meet me, Who follow thee so far ? Dost think within thy heavens There shines a brighter star ? Or any sun of noonday Will fortune make or mar ? " " Thou tempt'st me sorely, siren, I hear thy loving call ; Thy words of tender greeting Like gentle dewdrops fall : And when the heart is wretched, The grave is best of all. I see thine eyes of welcome. That shine so fond and true ; Thine arms of snowy whiteness Beneath the waters blue ; Thy hair of silken twining, And lips of coral hue. I know that thou art happy Beneath thy coral caves ; THE SEA-NYMPH 79 That blest with youth immortal, Thou roamest the ocean waves, Sea-monsters at thy summons Attend thee, as thy slaves. No storms can bring thee danger, No tempests cause alarm ; Within thy silent chamber Bides perfect peace and calm ; And, if I were beside thee, No mortal power could harm. But, 'mid those paths of pleasure. Where thou art wont to roam, Amid the sparkling breakers. And curling wreaths of foam. Canst find a greater treasure Than happiness and home ? " 8o THE OCEAN THE OCEAN Waves, waves, waters, waters — Waters, waters, waves, waves, How many earth-born sons and daughters Have you taken down to their graves ! Glittering and gleaming, with treacherous breast. Sparkling and shining beneath the bright sun, How can thy conscience be ever at rest — Thinking of thy terrible victories won ! Wrecks of the fairest, hopes of the bravest, Entranced by thy smile where gently thou lavest The rocks and the crags, and the chasms so bold — Where thrown in thine anger, their corpses are cold ! Oh ! the wrong and the misery thy heart could unfold. And the terrible secrets thy bosom must hold ! Waves, waves, roaring, pouring. Thundering thy paeans on a pitiless beach ! Rolling and groaning, and tossing and moaning. Clutching and grasping for all in thy reach ! Such marvels and wonders far down in the deeps, Amid which the Kraken and octopus sleeps — Such treasures of gold coin which skeleton hands Still hold in their grasp, 'mid the rock-weed and sands. Ah ! 'tis pitiful, fearful, and makes the heart bleed, To think of thine anger, and merciless greed. THE PRAIRIES 8 1 THE PRAIRIES The prairies stretch around me, remote from every eye ; The breezes curl the grasses and gently pass me by; The little birds come to my feet and sing their matin songs ; The cricket in the distance his symphony prolongs ; The butterfly on poised wings goes trembling through the air, Or on the nodding thistle displays his colors fair. The chatter of the blackbird, the calling of the quail. The great hawk, sweeping slowly, like corsair on the gale — The buzzing bee, whose busy flight doth seek the willow screen, Beneath whose sheltering canopy I watch this fairy scene, — Delight my heart in solitude, God's creatures who are there Dispel the world's delusions, its folly and its care. Campbell, Minn., Jtily, 1883. 82 THE EVENING FAIRY THE EVENING FAIRY Oh ! I am the little fairy that floats in the evening sky, Wherever the steeds of the twilight on their shadowy wings fleet by : And I float o'er the dim old headlands, and the shining sands of the shore Lit up from the fire in the cottage, as it gleams through the open door. When the toil of the day is over, and the housewife rocks in her chair. And her children gather about her, in response to her loving care : And I watch o'er the homes of the people through the long, dull hours of the night. Whose hearts I know are in unison with the good and the pure and the right ; And I bless them, each in their station, whether poor or enriched by gain ; And I rejoice with them in their pleasure, and I weep with them in their pain : But over the homes of the wicked I pass with averted . eye. For I know that they will be punished, when the Ruler of all comes by. POCASSET, 1885. TWILIGHT 83 TWILIGHT I LOVE to sit at twilight dim, And watch the shadows gray Come moving on in phalanx grim, And o'er the landscape play ; While all around is hushed and still, The pulses beat with milder thrill, The senses outward stray ; And far beyond the starlight skies My panting soul doth seek to rise. Harvard, i860. 84 TO SUE TO SUE I Ye stars that shine so brightly, That watch and guard me nightly, While distantly I roam — That smile upon my dreaming, With tender radiance streaming. Oh, watch and guard my home ! II Oh, shine upon those nearest Unto my heart — the dearest — My loved ones o'er the sea; Until, again returning. My heart may cease its yearning, And they rejoice with me. London, Januajy 5, 1895. MAY-DAY WOOING 85 MAY-DAY WOOING The earth it lay in light and shade, As through the clouds the sunlight played, The fields in green were all arrayed, And lovely was the dawning ; As o'er the stream, and o'er the hill. While on the air, so faint and still The linnet's sweet and gentle trill Was wafted all the morning. I took my way, in pensive mood, To her I long in vain had wooed. In vain had sought, in vain pursued. And mostly met with scorning ; And still I sighed, and still I prayed. And sought to please the careless maid, Until my heart was sore afraid She thought me falsely fawning. I saw her just within the door. Where oft I'd been with her before, At morn and eve in days of yore, So still, I thought her dreaming ; For never yet, by night or day. Her bounding spirits ceased their play, Or sadness chased her joy away. One moment to all seeming. S6 MAY-DAY WOOING My doubts they fled, as I drew nigh, And caught the flash of her dark eye, As bright as lightning from the sky, When through the darkness streaming. Her mellow voice, so sweet and clear, 'Twas like some angel's who her sphere Had left, to bide 'midst mortals here, In all her brightness beaming. Accosted me : " Sir Harry, pray, Have you forgot 'tis first of May, And loiter thus with such delay That all the rest before us Will surely cull the better flowers, Of which at least some should be ours. Unless you think to waste the hours. Which time will not restore us ? " "Ah! sweet," said I, "reprove me not, I know a lone and hidden spot. Where I am sure there can be got, Although the rest ignore us. Most lovely flowers, to weave a crown To place amongst thy tresses brown. And I will answer with a frown All those who may implore us To speak to them, and tell them where We got our flowers, so fresh and fair. To twine amidst the waving hair, Which o'er thy neck is stealing. MAY-DAY WOOING 8/ I'll leave them all to hunt in vain, And surely they cannot complain, Since they themselves did not refrain. In wanton mood and feeling, From leaving us to find our way, Nor cared if we should go astray, So long as they were free and gay, And spent the moments fleeting." As thus I spoke, the maiden bright Upon me threw a glance of light. So like the sunshine to the sight, I shrank from it when meeting. A smile played o'er her lips as sweet As ever mortal man did greet. Whene'er he chanced his love to meet; And silvery outflowing. Her witching tones spoke their reply, Which with the glances of her eye, Made me elate ; the reason why Mere words would fail in showing. " A moment wait, and I will go To that sweet spot you say you know, Where bright Mayflowers are sure to grow." 'Twas thus she spoke, ere turning. She went within, to say good-by To her old mother, sitting nigh. Whose heart betrayed in her reply Its tenderness and yearning. 88 MAY-DAY WOOING She soon came back — no words can tell The joy I felt, as through the dell, And o'er the green and mossy fell, Still calm retreats invading We wandered on : the while her cheek, As any rose was flushed as deep — Ah ! such a glow 'twere vain to seek By artificial shading. At length we reached the distant hill. Where crossing first a tinkling rill Upon a log, which lay there still, As first it fell in cutting, We trod the path adown its side To where a dell spread far and wide ; A sweeter spot I ne'er descried, A rugged cliff o'erjutting. " Ah ! here how sweet to sit and dream, And listen to the gentle stream ; While through the branches faintly gleam The rays from which they hide you. How sv/eet to sit at eventide, And watch the solemn shadows glide, And shroud in gloom the hill's broad side. With one you love beside you ! " These words I spoke so faint and low, I knew they, midst the brooklet's flow, Unheard by her would surely go ; To whom I feared revealing MAY-DAY WOOING . 89 The love that bided in my breast, And ever caused my soul's unrest ; For oft before I had confessed In vain to her, concealing The love she felt. How could I know, That hid beneath that breast of snow, She felt so warm, so pure a glow, So bright and chaste a feeling, For one who heartless deemed the fair ; ;But had he known the feeling there, It would have roused him from despair, And set his pulses reeling ! ***** Where gave an elm protecting shade, In cool retreat reclined the maid. And twined the flowers in simple braid To place amidst her tresses. And I stood by in absent mind. And watched the boughs wave in the wind. As all the leaves together twined In amorous caresses. Until at length I roused my heart. And bade all fear from it depart. For I would try the manly part. And bid farewell to sighing : And she should say without deceit. If in her heart's secure retreat A love to mine responsive beat. To be fore'er undying. 90 MAY-DAY WOOING But as I pondered with delay, For much I feared the answer nay, The charmer, in a saucy way. Her Hly hand upraising. Showed me, all bright with drops of dew, A lovely flower, whose roseate hue Betrayed the stalk whereon it grew. In sooth well worth one's praising. And in a sweet, melodious tone. Such as her voice could breathe alone. She shyly asked, if I had known A flower which e'er seemed brighter. I told her, yes, I did know one, More bright than ever yet the sun Had kissed since first the world begun, And knew it would delight her — If she was fond, as women are. Of being told they're brighter far Than any flower or any star : And thus a hope shot o'er me.- Of course she asked, I knew she would, " Where is that flower ? " Awhile I stood. Then whispered low, as lovers should, " I see it now before me." A burning blush with rapid flow Deep bathed in red her bosom's snow. And dyed her cheek with carmine glow ; And ah ! the glance she threw me : MAY-DAY WOOING It told me more than words could tell And from my heart dejection fell, Like mist that summer suns dispel, For all her love it shew me. Ah ! lovely day, thy dawning bright. Though clothing all the earth with light, I ne'er had thought such pure delight Would bring to me despairing. How great the hopes and joys divine That ere the waning sun's decline. Were felt by me, O heart of mine. Thy throbbing is declaring! 91 92 THE EXILE'S RETURN THE EXILE'S RETURN Old Ireland, my native land, I see thee once again — Long years have passed since I left thee, To sail across the main, A blooming lad, with heart of joy, And hopes so bright and free, That I should make my fortune soon, And then return to thee, My sweetheart here, my dear colleen, That lived 'neath Darragh hill, I wonder if she'd know me now — And would she love me still ? How often here at day's decline I've sought this lonely spot. And whistled soft to call my love — Oh ! can she have forgot ? Ah ! could I see that dear lass now — Each year she's dearer grown — I'd throw my fortune at her feet, And she should be my own. And should I whistle for her now, To meet her listening ear, I wonder if 'twould please her still, And gladly she would hear. I scarcely dare to make attempt ; For if I should, and fail, THE EXILE'S RETURN 'Twould break my heart, and I again From Ireland would sail. ** Faint heart fayre ladye never won," I've often heard them say ; I'll whistle soft, and whistle low — Nor longer will delay. Upon this mossy stone I'll sit, As oft I've done before, And watched the stars bedeck the sky, And moon come shining o'er. And all I ask is for her lips To say to me, " Remain " ; And all my life I'll cherish her, And be her loving swain. 93 94 SHE SLEEPS SHE SLEEPS She sleeps ! No more to her The flower of vermeil hue — The gentle summer shower, Or softly falling dew. The flowers above her breast With gentle whisper say : " The one we loved the best From earth has passed away.' And where she lies at rest, Each piteous bending spray Doth bow, at Love's behest, With grief for her alway. With nodding heads the pines Seem murmurous to sigh, As each to each inclines : " She was too young to die. Why comes she not again Beneath our loving shade. With lightsome steps to play. As once before she played ? Where has our loved one gone - We look for her in vain ; We grieve, and are forlorn — Why comes she not again ? " SHE SLEEPS 95 Alas ! There is no aid For either flower or tree ; No hope for grief allayed, And least of all for me. The stalk and branches fall — At their heart feeds old decay — Just as at mine sad grief Consumes the life away. 96 THE OLD CHURCH BELL THE OLD CHURCH BELL Through the blue mist pealing, Over the blue wave stealing, Peace to my soul revealing, Comes the sound of the old church bell. THE SOLITARY 97 THE SOLITARY He rested where broad pines did weave their fronds, And cool with gentle currents all the air ; And writhe their arms, like prisoners in their bonds, — The spiders' mesh the only bonds they wear ; With every rougher motion sure to tear. Great, mossy oaks, with acorns dropping down. And plenteous beech-trees the distant spaces share, And now their leaves were growing sear and brown, Touched by the breath of autumn and her frown. 98 'COON-HUNTING 'COON-HUNTING Did you ever hunt a 'coon By the Hght of the moon, — And listen to the sound Of the mellow-throated hound, As he opens on the view — As he sniffs the tainted dew ? Have you scrambled over logs, Behind a pack of dogs ? Have you waded through the mire. Have you struggled with a brier, That has caught you in a brake, And entwined you like a snake ? Have you worried — have you sweat Have you finished in a fret ? If you haven't, then, beware ! It is sport ! and I declare None but sportsmen, tried and true, Twice would venture so to do. NATURE^S PROSPECT 99 NATURE'S PROSPECT Ye fields, outspread in beauty, And over-bending skies, I pause awhile from study. To rest my weary eyes, — To gaze upon the prospect Kind Nature's hand supplies — Where she intermingles fragrance With the splendour of her dyes — Where the bird upon the hawthorn In security is blest. And sings a cheerful ditty To his mate within the nest ; And ruffles up his plumage. And prunes his little breast, Ere he speeds on airy pinions For the food that she loves best. 100 SONG OF THE FRENCH MOUSQUETAIRES SONG OF THE FRENCH MOUSQUETAIRES " MoN coeur volage, dit elle, N'est pour vous, gargon ; Est pour un homme de guerre, Qui a barb au menton. Qui porte chapeau et plume — Soulier et rouge talon — Qui joui a la fluto, Aussi le violon." This lightsome heart, my simple boy. You need not strive to win ; A soldier lad is all my joy, With a beard upon his chin. A fleecy plume is in his hat — His spurs of sanguine hue — You play the flute ? why, he does that. And sometimes fiddles, too. AN IMPROMPTU " lOI AN IMPROMPTU Oh, ask me not, ye lovely girls, About this " red, red rose " ; For on your cheeks, half hid by curls, A rose of beauty glows — Of beauty far — yes, far more bright, Than blush'd where red rose sprung. When first its petals saw the light. And dewdrops on them hung. Ah ! could he call the rosedew sweet, Who once that nectar sips. That sweetest sweet, where all is sweet. The dew of maiden lips ? I02 VILLAGE CHRONICLES VILLAGE CHRONICLES No. I THE FIGHT IN THE VILLAGE GLEN. A TALE FOR THE DOG-DAYS When the dog-days come, and it is hot, And dogs run mad, or they do not, In consequence — a fact which I Stop not to prove, nor yet deny — It sometimes haps — how, I will tell — That men of sense run mad as well. A case in point I will adduce : Two farmers, '' sound upon the goose," In disputatious mood began To argue on "the rights of man "; From words to blows they had recourse — Perhaps they thought that greater force To what they said was thus conveyed. And proved besides they weren't afraid. Whate'er they thought, 'twas their intent. To give those thoughts no further vent ; But each would make the other know His fist could deal a sturdy blow. When they began 'twas warm enough, And lack of wind soon made them puff. One threw aside his coat and vest, And then " pitched in " with added zest ; VILLAGE CHRONICLES 103 The other doffed his vest and coat, And bared his arms and brawny throat. They strove and tussled, gouged and bit, And neither gained nor gave a whit. Each had a dog, which now began. To scratch and growl, his rage to fan ; For seeing thus their masters' plight, They wished themselves to have a fight. Though well enough disposed before. They now commenced to rage and roar ; And grabbed each other fast and firm. Quite " like a bull-dog " — that's a term Employed by " Forester," you know, In work of his some years ago. Not long they fought ere to the spot The neighbors came, amazed I wot, At such a scene within their glen — Two fighting dogs, two fighting men, Whose tout ensemble was so strange ; For ''rough and tumbles " disarrange One's fine appearance — they so long Had been at it, and were so strong. The very pantaloons they wore Now clad their rugged shanks no more. Their shirts were rent, and " in the gale," Gleamed like some torn and tattered sail ; While they with heaving flanks did strain, In hopes some vantage-ground to gain. The neighbors cheered, and at the sound, The fierce contestants looked around. 104 VILLAGE CHRONICLES How in distress new fire it lends To see at hand a score of friends, Who give advice as best they can. And tell one how to whip his man ! So was it then — the twain renewed The fight with all the zeal imbued They had at first, when first began The '* Reign of Blows," and " claret" ran, And sadly left the cherished throne By " right divine " that was its own. For sad indeed, as I suppose, Must " claret " feel to leave the nose. Eftsoons the matrons hastened near, Half-choked with doubt, and pale with fear. Then came the maidens, lithe and tall, And toddling children last of all. They reached the scene — among the crowd The two men's wives, both bawling loud : " If they had such a husband, they Would like to see him act that way, And dare disgrace himself and her ! " When some one whispered, '' Lawks! they were." One rapid look the vixens cast. Then through their neighbors rushing fast. They reached the ring, — when to the name Of husband be it lasting shame, — Each brutish man — what husband feels ? — Seized on his spouse by neck and heels. And with a swing and sudden pitch, Propelled her headlong to a ditch. VILLAGE CHRONICLES lOS And while their yells in mud were drowned, The husbands had another round. The neighbors wished to interfere, "Because," said they, *'the case is clear, They, of themselves, will never cease, And should be made to keep the peace." They called a minion of the law, A creature whose prehensile claw They hoped the contest then would close, And put an end to further blows. He reached the spot and broke the ring — Bade them to stop — " Do no such thing ! " The quick reply ; and, ere he thought. Each had him round the body caught, With " One, two, three," they tossed him far Above the crowd; with heavy jar Upon an apiary in the glen He headlong fell, and straightway then The hive was crushed, the swarm flew out, And put the neighbors all to rout. The lawyer led the way with speed ; His " rate " the " Deer's " ^ would far exceed. The women too from mud got free, And with the rest did swiftly flee. The men and dogs kept on their fun, And fought as if they'd just begun, Until 'twas night — they then agreed Some other time they would proceed 1 Jackson, otherwise called the " American Deer/' the celebrated pedes- trian, is alluded to in the above line. I06 VILLAGE CHRONICLES To have it out, and should I hear That they had done so, never fear But what, dear Spirit, I'll relate The whole to you, and tell their fate. VILLAGE CHRONICLES 10/ No. II THE RECONCILIATION Full hard it was for those two men To make their way towards home again ; For they were badly cut and bruised, With every feature so contused, Their bhndness forced them oft to stay Their halting footsteps on the way In fear lest they, without a guide. Might wander in the dark aside ; While many a purple mark impressed Above their ribs would well attest How deep and stubborn was their grit. Such blows should fail to vanquish it. But when each doubtful turn was past, And they had reached their homes at last, Then straightway both retired to bed, To ease their limbs and aching head ; But courted Somnus' arms in vain, Nor would each weeping wife refrain, While bandaging their heads with ice. Betwixt her sobs from good advice. The husbands tossed from side to side, And cursed the louder as they cried. But when Aurora smiUng rose, Disturbing Tithon's deep repose. And from his blankets deftly cleared. And in the eastern verge appeared. I08 VILLAGE CHRONICLES Each husband bade his weepmg spouse To dry her tears, or leave the house : For they were sick of lying there, With aches enough to make them swear, Without additions such as those, To aggravate them in their woes. The wives alarmed straightway complied, And brushed each trickling tear aside : Well pleased at this each husband pressed Upon his spouse a bold request, To fill a glass — he was so dry — With rum his thirst to satisfy. Then at a draught, to their renown And praise I say it, drank it down. Soon fired by this, they needed more ; And ordered forth the cherished store Of liquors, long retained in charge. In bottles small and bottles large. And freely drank, and poured it out, Till neither felt the slightest doubt That he with ease his man could whip, If he but had him in his grip ; And treat him to such usage rough That he would gladly cry enough. Thus each succeeding glass increased Their courage till the liquor ceased ; Then each his tearful spouse addressed, Nor gave his maudlin humor rest ; And one compared himself with wit To Wellington and William Pitt; VILLAGE CHRONICLES 109 And proved beyond a legal doubt, That he had worth that should come out ; And showed beside that some disguise Doth always cloak the brave and wise, And shroud their actions from the view Of common folks, who, if they knew Their native worth, would all be glad To show what deep respect they had. The other was the peer, God wot, Of Marshal Ney and Walter Scott ; The first was brave, but not a whit More so than he — in proof of it He called to mind his contest o'er. And reckoned bruises by the score ! Then stopped awhile, but when he broke His transient musings, thus he spoke : *' And as for Walter Scott, I hear He wrote some verses ; now 'tis clear, I have such power in double bass. That every song an added grace Would gain from me, and I should tear The laurels from Sir Walter's hair." 'Twas thus they .boozed away the hours. Until they went beyond the powers Of human nature to withstand ; Yet in their slumbers they demand " More drink," as sots will often do. When they are parched and fevered through. But strange to say, when they awoke. As in their rooms the sunlight broke, no VILLAGE CHRONICLES They found their soreness all removed, And felt their spirits much improved. That rum or brandy could effect So strange a cure, none would expect ; Though I suppose that few would care. Like them, to try its virtues rare. Soon both arose, and ventured out, To learn if 'tother was about ; With little thought that they should meet, As soon they did, upon the street. And thereupon they could but smile. Though striving to be stern the while ; But one observed, " Good-morrow, friend, Pray let this day our madness end." The other said, " Most worthy sir. We've shown our pluck, what fools we were." They then shook hands — 'twas thus decreed From their chance meeting should proceed A friendship destined to endure. With greater strength improved and pure. Till both shall fill their little day. And slumber with their kindred clay. VILLAGE CHRONICLES in No. Ill THE FORTUNE-TELLER 'TwAS just at night, the breeze was down And nature's face without a frown ; The tree-toads piped in shrillest keys, On highest branches at their ease. Those airy sprites were on the wing, Whose song is sweet, but not their sting, " Mosquitoes " yclept, that pierce your skin. And thrust their sharp proboscis in ; And for each drop of blood you lose, As much of poison will infuse. As in the marsh he cleared his throat. Resounded oft the bull-frog's note. The katydid, in hot dispute. Seemed angered at the owlets' " hoot," As if it some reflection lent " In bar " of her fierce argument. As darkness stole across the mead. The farmer checked his weary steed. That all day long with patient toil Had drawn the ploughshare thro' the soil ; Or homeward urged his loaded wain. With oxen yoked, across the plain. The chickens sought (poor sleepy things) Their mother hen's protecting wings. While milch-cows, pied, brown, and red. Stood ruminating 'neath the shed ; 112 VILLAGE CHRONICLES Or bellowed, till the woodland side Responsive echoes multiplied. In peace and comfort rested all, As night her dusky robe let fall. About this time you might have seen A student pacing o'er the green — I have good proof that this was so, For sundry gossips saw him go — To make a call on Miss Levine, And all his dress was extra fine : Upon his head a ''cady" sat, A ne plus ultra of a hat — The latest style, such as one sees On "bang-up" swells, or men of ease. A fine cheroot, betwixt his teeth, Enclosed him with a fragrant wreath. He lightly swung a slim " rattan," And at his heels a setter ran ; As to the rest, the tailor's art Had made a fit in every part. Ere long he reached his lady's door. Knocked, entered, and came out no more Until 'twas nearly break of day — "Just five o'clock," the gossips say. But I will tell you, reader mine, Unless perusal you decline. Without desire to read the rest, It was 2i'calu7nny, at best. The student and the lady both (Though I confess I'm somewhat loth, VILLAGE CHRONICLES II3 Nor would I now, unless I thought In such a case as this I ought To tell the secrets of the fair) Emerged again to outer air : But by a doorway in the rear — The cause of this will soon appear. An old maid lived across the way, Who, should she see them, would betray The fact to all, with feigned surprise, To magnify it in their eyes ; And Miss Levine knew this full well. I think by instinct women tell The surest way of sifting out Each other's nature, when in doubt. Be this as may be, I'm sincere In wishing always to be clear Of spinster maids, whose forty years. Grant them " exemption rights " from fears, Such as in younger heads might be, Concerning breach of chastity. From apparitions such as these The most complacent mortal flees. The twain stepped out, as I have said, And to a fortune-teller sped. When I was young, how long ago ! Men spoke of such and whispered low ; For none could tell what power they had To thwart the good, or aid the bad ; And each one feared the aged crone Beside the swamp that dwelt alone. 114 VILLAGE CHRONICLES To seek some withered hag like this, The two went forth — he stole a kiss From her bright lips, just at the bog; Then helped her cross it on a log. Through devious ways they winded long. And doubted oft ; and if my song Be something like, and tax the strength Of thy sweet patience, for its length — Oh, pardon it, for I propose To urge my Pegasus with blows. In hopes that he will feel the need Of some accession to his speed. They persevered until they found A little plot of level ground, Where stood the hut, well known to fame, In that locale, of fortune's dame. They knocked full long and loud before They heard a fumbling at the door, Which slowly opened, when inside A shrivelled hag they dimly spied; Who bade them enter, in a tone As gruff and harsh as manhood's own. Some dying embers cast a glow That poorly served their way to show ; But finding each an oaken chair. They took a seat with trembling care, And summoned all their hardihood To hear their fortunes, bad or good. Meanwhile the old, decrepit witch Drew forth a lamp from hidden niche, VILLAGE CHRONICLES II5 And lighting it, still more the gloom It served to pierce, and things illume. And now the visitors explore, With eager eyes, things hid before ; They looked upon the withered crone, As in the light her features shone ; Her ferret eyes, her long gray hair, The wrinkles wrought by years of care. (For rudely Time had left his trace, And crossed and interlined her face !) They closely scanned, and half in fright, The maiden whispered, " What a sight ! " Ah me ! so bent and bowed with age. She looked as though the opening page Of her young life, that should be fair. Was likewise seamed and crossed with care. What she was once, who now might say ? Each trace of beauty swept away, That adoration might inspire. Or kindle true affection's fire. Ne was to tell her name or race, Her former home or dwelling-place. Concerning her 'twas simply known, That here she'd dwelt for years alone. Her furniture was all in sight ; One stand, abed, three chairs, a light — A cupboard that its hoard displayed Of dishes, all in order laid. Most visitors, with anxious eyes. Observing this, would feel surprise, Il6 VILLAGE CHRONICLES To think that one should live so ill, Who might procure all things at will. The present two were quickly tired With looking on, and both desired That they might have their fortunes told, And page of destiny unrolled. Not long the witch kept them in doubt, But took a seat and thus spoke out : " You maiden fair, come here to me ; A fresh young face is thine, I see." And thus addressed the maiden rose. But purposely the student's toes Were made to feel her footsteps sly, As his poor corns might testify — Before, with smiling, much allied To fear, she reached the witch's side. "Thy palm," she said, ''betrays few lines. And faintly each to each inclines. As yet thy cares have been but few, And flowers around thy pathway grew ; But, ere my cards thy fate foretell, I'll read this student's palm as well." Then, 'neath the glimmer of the light She brought a pack of cards to sight. From some deep fold within her dress, Where they had lain in dark duress. And, placing them upon the stand, She asked to see the student's hand. Full long she gazed, before she said : ** A changeful life, sir, you have led ; VILLAGE CHRONICLES 11/ You've breasted fortune's waves aside, And kept your head above the tide ; And never ceased to urge your course As you thought best, with all your force. If divination tells me right, Your future destiny is bright, And you will prosper, never fear. And win the maid to you most dear ; But watch the cards, as I arrange. And see the shifting fortunes change." She then arose, approaching nigh The cupboard, where she kept supply Of something ardent, by the smell ; The student kenned its savor well, And whispered to the lass near by : " 'Tis simon-pure, third-proof ' red eye.' " " 'Tis what } " she said ; poor simple maid. She'd never heard, as I'm afraid, Of such before ; and thus in doubt. Desired to find his meaning out. But ere the student made reply. There rose a hideous rout and cry. That pierced their ears without cessation, As though the fiends for recreation, In Charon's boat had crossed the " Styx," And now were up to hellish tricks. Soon on their vision, through the smoke, Two struggling forms an instant broke ; The student's dog it proved to be, Joined with the cat in fierce melee. Il8 VILLAGE CHRONICLES The ashes flew ; above the din The fortune-teller's yells chimed in ; And, rushing like a fury mad, She seized the tongs, and thus yclad, She dealt some blows both quick and strong, But not at ease she dealt them long ; For, not inured to such abuse, The dog, enraged, broke quickly loose, And seized upon her scraggy throat ; Although full weighty blows she smote, He still clung fast. To lend her aid The student sprang ; one step he made, But turned his ankle, tripped, and fell. And overthrew the stand as well. The light went out, except a spark That flickered faintly in the dark. In hopes to save his head from harm, The student caught the witch's arm. And by his pulling soon destroys The firmness of her equipoise ; She tumbled backward, tho' I own, I think she was unfairly thrown, And struck the student with her hips, Or hoops, somewhere about midships. The little wind was thus bereft The fall had in his body left ; And like a log or lump of clay. Beneath the hag he senseless lay. Her fall had freed the setter's fangs. Who, dreading now no further bangs, VILLAGE CHRONICLES 119 Turned to the cat, that, "spitting " still, Of fighting yet had not her fill One lucky grab he quickly made ; To fight no more poor puss essayed, But uttering one infernal "miew," Far up the wide-mouthed chimney flew. The maiden's terror, fright, and fears. First found a vent in shrieks and tears ; But then her courage rose anew, And she resolved what she must do. She lit the lamp with trembling hand. And stooped to raise the shattered stand ; But at the sound the witch arose. With mangled neck and bleeding nose ; The student caught his vanished wind. And swore all doubts he would rescind Before his fellows in debate, That he had held a witch-craft's weight. He paid the fortune-teller's fee, And with the maid then turned to flee. Pursued with imprecations dire. And oaths as hot as Hecla's fire. For thus the hag's excited mind To mar their fortunes seemed inclined. The setter bounded on before. And seemed the fact rejoicing o'er. By gambols strange and frequent yells, That he was freed from witch's spells. The maid and student found their way Unto her home with laughter gay ; 120 VILLAGE CHRONICLES And when he parted with her there, They both agreed they would not care Again to have their fortunes told By witches, either young or old ; Be fortune's pathway smooth or rough, That one adventure was enough. THE FIRST OF MAY 121 THE FIRST OF MAY. Oh ! merrily twine your garlands bright, And sing your carollings gay — For your hearts are young, and you feel delight. On this blithesome first of May. Ay, the buds were fair many years long syne. On this self-same first of May — And the song of the birds to my ear as fine, And my spirits as blithe and gay. And a party of lads and maidens fair Strolled forth in their best array, To gather the flowers in their secret lair. Where they hid from the light of day : 'Neath a coverlid green of moss and leaves They had hidden themselves away. But we plucked them thence by their tiny sleeves, To the grief of many a fay. 122 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT I'll bet my hat you never heard A story that is true About a dog and countryman — So I will tell it you Just as I heard it — that's to say, As near as it will do, For I must soften rugged tones — Harsh colors must subdue. Without premising further then, With no pretence at art, I'll make you fully cognizant Of matters at the start. And you may trust implicitly The truth that I impart ; Job Thrasher was the countryman ; The dog belonged to Hart, A chapman in the neighborhood, Who dealt in teas and spice, A sailor he was formerly, And often he would ** splice The main-brace," as he called it: Addicted too to dice. His wife could never stop him, He wouldn't heed advice. JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 123 But that is immaterial ; And I shall not avail Myself of foreign incidents To lengthen out my tale ; For I am fully satisfied, If brevity prevail, A man will please his audience, And otherwise^ he'll fail. And so I will not linger O'er scenes of married strife, Nor breathe a word of rumor That everywhere was rife. Of rum domestic quarrels That Hart had with his wife ; The story, as Job told me, I'll tell you on my life. " I went," said he, " one day last spring, To take a little stroll, And catch a fish or two, perhaps, For I had got my pole ; But somehow on the way I paused, And sat down on a knoll ; I think I felt poetical, 'Twas curious, 'pon my soul. Half consciously I looked about. When sudden, as I gazed, A dog appeared, and said : * Bow wow ' — in truth I was amazed, 124 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT For he was an enormous dog, A dog with bristles raised, And ghttering fangs and foaming mouth, His eye-balls redly blazed. He stopped before me, crouching down, And looking fierce and long, Seemed meditating where to bite ; My agony was strong. The cold sweat rolled in drops like rain, I thought no more of song. And only wished I was at home. With folks where I belong. Or had some weapon of defence. Such was my earnest thought. When, groping in my overcoat Convulsively, I caught A pocket-pistol, unbeknown. That lay there since 'twas bought : Well filled with eati-de-'ine it was ; I took therefrom a draught : Which acted most amazingly. My courage then revived ; And from my back that old gray coat. As quick as thought I rived ; And, while I kept my eyes on his, I hastily contrived To wrap it well about one arm. And at the bulldog dived. JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 125 The bulldog dived at me likewise, He sprang right at my throat, But met a blow betwixt his eyes, Full wrathfully 'twas smote. And when he made a grab at me. His teeth sank in my coat, As, round my arm, held high 'twas raised. Of it I took no note : But with my boot his bony ribs Impetuous did crack, — Like ribs of some stout ship that groans. With shrouds and cordage slack. When sudden gale unlooked-for blows — And so I beat him back ; But he again as quick as thought. Returned to the attack : And caught me by the crazy-bone, Where shin doth join the shank: I'm fond of close attachments. But this I couldn't thank. The more I struggled for release. His fangs the deeper sank ; And all the while that dog would growl. And twist, and turn, and yank. I sought again the bottle — Dutch courage soon supplies New strength to weary muscles — My pluck began to rise. 126 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT The dog to quit my crazy-bone Persistently denies. I may have lacked in science then, But gouged him in the eyes. As o'er and o'er upon the ground We tumbled, till at last Adown a sloping bank we fell. Each holding tight and fast, And rolled into a stagnant pond, That opened wide and vast. And swallowed us beneath the slime With which 'twas overcast. To rise again, again to wage Our fierce, uncertain fray. Till tranquillized by coolness soon The dog made feebler play. And loosed his hold upon my shin, And turned to swim away ; But to his tail I sternly clung. Determined he should stay. I felt right mad, you see, to think The dog should spoil my clothes. And then go back upon himself. And ' vamose ' when he chose ; And so I held on to his tail ; But what do you suppose — The dog turned sharp around at that. And fastened to my nose. JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 127 Whilst I laid hold of his two ears, And plunging 'neath the flood, Alternately we rose and fell, And settled with a thud. Beneath the half -putrescent ooze Into the slimy mud. As all the wave rubescent grew, Commingled with our blood. When, on the lofty hill above' — What words this thing can tell ! — I heard a female voice shriek out, A dainty female yell : — * Old Towse has got a man down there, He's killing him as well ! Oh, run ! oh, run ! for help at once, The wicked brute to quell ! ' 'Twas Becky, pride of villagers. And beauty's fairest queen. Sole child of farmer Hammerstone, Whose house near by was seen Embowered in trees and shrubbery. Right pleasantly, I ween ; He owned ten acres round about, On others had a lien. Half dead with shame to find myself Observed in such a plight. Especially by female eyes, I grasped His muzzle tight, 128 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT And thrust the bulldog's jaws apart With desperation's might, And loosed him from his hold at once, And "sounded" out of sight. Soon raising up my head again, I looked beyond the hill, Just as the fainting miss revived, To shriek renewed and shrill. While an attendant crone at hand Invoked her to be still, * Or she would raise the neighbors a',' And Becky said, ' I will. * The man is sunk — sunk in the pond — I saw where he went down — And if the neighbors do not come, I'm sure that he will drown.' ' An' let him drown, if drown he will — What care ye for the clown, Puir feckless bodie .'* ' said the crone, Who saw her mistress frown, And judged it best to say no more : Meantime, upon the run. Behold a farmer's lad approach. Who asked them, ' if in fun They shrieked and yelled like catamounts, Or why the deuce 'twas done .'' ' Then quoth the crone, ' A man has drowned, That's why the cries begun.' JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT 129 The fellow's face turned pale a bit, And then it turned to blue ; And then he ran down hill like shot, And shouting, as he flew — Right on the brink before me stood. And said, ' It is too true ! ' * Oh, no,' says I, a-rising up, 'it am'^, How do you do ? ' Just send them gals away, young man, And then give me your hand ; And help me out of this quagmire Once more upon the land ; For if you don't you have a hide. And it shall be well tanned. Whenever next I meet with you, I'd have you understand! ' * I will,' said he, * Jehosaphat, I'll Make them gals clear out. And extricate you from this fix Without the slightest doubt ; A suit of clothes you'll also need — My father, he is stout. And you, I judge, are rayther slim ; But then I think this bout His duds will answer just as well As might a better fit.' And then he grinned, as though he'd made A mighty stroke at wit. 130 JOB THRASHER'S FIGHT I growled, ' Clear out, you fool, begone ! ' He hurried not a bit ; But, as he turned to leave me there, He laughed as tho' he'd split ; And going to the maiden and the Old attendant crone. Said something to them ; they walked off, And I was all alone. The dog had long ago made tracks. And left for parts unknown ; And so I scrambled to the land — I wished I could have flown — The sooner to have reached my home; I'm certain, anyway. Few, few indeed, pedestrians, Had I been timed that day. Though naked, could have outstripped me ; Whatever they may say." And so I end Job's narrative. For your indulgence pray. ROBIN GOODFELLOW 131 ROBIN GOODFELLOW From fairy-land, my place of birth, Sent hither by the Elfin King, I come to roam at night on earth, And join in sport and wassailing. My name is dear To mortal ear ; For I am Robin Goodfellow — The tricksy Puck, That brings good luck, And laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. Perversity of heart and mind, Believe me, mortals, I shall quell; In every case I chance to find, I'll make the culprit rue it well. While in amaze He wildly strays To overtake me as I go — With ease I will Elude him still. And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. The love-sick swain who thinks he hears Afar his sweetheart's cry for him. Must pardon me, if, urged by fears. He plunges in the river's brim : — For then he knows The cry arose 132 ROBIN GOODFELLOW From Puck or Robin Goodfellow. As thus he fares, And wildly stares, I laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. I watch the gambler leave the hall. Where he has won a golden store — In equine shape I wait his call And neigh and whinny at the door. How swift he rides. When he bestrides, The back of Robin Goodfellow ; Who hears his groans. And jolts his bones, And laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. When feasts are spread, I have my share. And kiss the maidens in the crowd; Who shriek, of course, but little care. Because their shrieks are seldom loud. And when the host Would give a toast. The well-filled glass I overthrow ; When he would quaff The wine, I laugh, To his annoyance, ho, ho, ho. And oft in dreams I pinch the maid. Who in the kitchen slumbers sound — Blow out the lights, to make afraid, And roll the pots and kettles round : ROBIN GOODFELLOW 133 When she doth wake I quick betake Myself away, with laughter low, That she can tell 'Twas Puck right well Who laughs, with merry ho, ho, ho. At times, when haughty ^olus Sends howling storms upon the deep, To overwhelm the sailor thus With sullen surges in his sleep — I guide the blast Till danger's past — Unto the helmsman aid bestow. Who wipes his eyes : "Hilloa," he cries; I vanish then, with ho, ho, ho. At times the traveller, tired and worn, Upon a dismal path unknown, Despairing of his destined bourne. Finds courage spent and hope nigh flown; But will pursue His course anew. And feel again his ardor glow, When just ahead He hears my tread. And merry laugh of ho, ho, ho. At times the merchant, wrapped in thought, His way is wending slowly home — 134 ROBIN GOODFELLOW Forgetful of the playthings bought, Forgetful too that fairies roam ; While I behind Steal like the wind — Though how 'twas done he ne'er will know And take the toys For poorer boys, And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. On Christmas nights, when bells ring out Their tones of joy, or else of woe; When stars are shining, and the shout Of revellers that swiftly go, In headlong flight O'er fields of white, And pure and sparkling ice and snow, Rings loud and clear — You'll often hear My merry laugh of ho, ho, ho. On times like these I often seize To make the bashful lover glow ; Impel his true love's hand to squeeze. And sheep's-eye glances to bestow; And then it is, Right soon I wis, His ear will tingle with the blow. That long will smart. When I depart. And laugh, with merry ho, ho, ho. ROBIN GOODFELLOW 135 Lo, in the east the stars are bright — My time is up — I may not stay ; I bid you then, fair earth, good-night, And go with speed of light, away — And haste again Where elfins reign, And pure, undying strains do flow From harps of gold That fairies hold. Who wait for Robin Goodf ellow ! 136 WINE WINE. Oft when the day is done And the slow descending sun Sinks in the western sky, I to the landlord hie ; And there I have a glass, From his sweet serving-lass. Of rich and rare old wine, The nectar of the vine. Within its beaded rim - What dimpling graces swim ! What recollections fair Of lips like rubies rare ; What smiles that linger still, And all my pulses thrill, In rich and rare old wine. The nectar of the vine. What fairy forms appear, What starry eyes draw near ! What swiftly flying feet, To sound of music sweet ! What rippling laughter falls. What fond endearment calls. In rich and rare old wine, The nectar of the vine. WINE 137 Ah, me ! It all is o'er. All fades ! And now no more Alluring fancies bright Will bring my heart delight ; No more will visions pass Across the empty glass Of rich and rare old wine, The nectar of the vine. 138 DRINKING-SONG DRINKING-SONG While the winds they are howling without us, And the firelight gleams warm on the floor, What is better than a few friends about us To help us drive care from the door ! Through the long winter's night by the embers, As we dream of the days past and gone, Ere our youth had a thought of Decembers, Or the rose of our life bore a thorn. Chorus Oh ! there's nothing will make us so merry, Or will drown all our cares in a bunch, As a pull at a good Tom and Jerry, Or a rousing old noggin of punch ! II In the east when the dawn is appearing, And the stars glimmer faint in the sky, And we know that the daylight is nearing, And the breath of the morning is nigh, — Here's a toast, as you fill up the glasses, Strikes a chord every heart must obey, 'Tis the health of all sweethearts and lasses O'er the wide earth, wherever they stray. A MADRIGAL 139 A MADRIGAL Let the boat gently glide on the lake's silver tide, While the heaven's lovely queen, The moon, is faintly seen. As it glances in its pride on the lofty mountain side, With a pure and mellow sheen. The leafy boughs between. Let the winds whisper low, as they wander to and fro. And gently pass us by With a murmur and a sigh ; While our spirits have a glow that would melt the wintry snow. That on the peaks doth lie. Where they seem to touch the sky. Let no other sound be heard save the softly spoken word, As thy accents pure and clear Come stealing on my ear. Like the notes of sweetest bird, when her heart by love is stirred. Who sings withouten fear, When her tender mate is near. I40 A MADRIGAL Let the lip be pressed to lip while in ecstasy we sip That evanescent dew That thrills our beings through. Ah, the cups in wine that dip no drops like it can drip, Since no vine that ever grew From the earth such sweetness drew. RANGELEY TROUT 141 RANGELEY TROUT TYRO LOQUITUR What fish are these ? Brook trout ! My eyes And where grew they to such a size ? No fish e'er caught in private pound Of such Titanic size are found. PISCATOR RESPONDENS Indeed, you're right ; these fish did grow Where noble Rangeley's waters flow. With my right arm and tackle stout From 'neath its waves I pulled them out. TYRO Oh ! brave indeed ! And would that I Might go with thee such sport to try — To hear the reel and feel the line Must stir the blood like draughts of wine. PISCATOR Then say the word and you shall go ; You're just the boy to .fish, I know. We'll sing and laugh with hearts in tune, And be as blithe as birds in June. TYRO And roam about where rustling boughs Might seem to whisper lovers' vows, 142 RANGELEY TROUT Did wood-nymphs still intrust their charms Within the forest's circling arms. PISCATOR Oh ! what delight, 'neath cloudy skies, To cast our lines and play our flies ! Who ever felt the moments drag When he was bringing trout to bag ? TYRO And who can doubt the height of joy When one has hooked a fish that's coy, 'Mid mossy stones and gnarled roots To plash around in rubber boots ! PISCATOR Where wisdom holds her highest court * She yields at times to harmless sport ; And who that paths of learning trod Has ever shunned the fishing-rod ? TYRO No one, indeed ! And I am bound, When next the seasons make their round, Of fishing I will have my fill — Till then, my heart, till then, sit still. iThe friend to whom these lines were originally addressed is an eminent member of the legal fraternity. TAUNTON RIVER 143 TAUNTON RIVER Oh, fairest of the rivers, Thou swiftly rolHng tide, I watch thy flowing surface, RecHning by thy side. I watch the fading sunbeams Which glimmer over all. Which cast a golden radiance. And glisten as they fall Upon the lofty pine-trees That stand above thy banks, With dense and gloomy foliage. In many giant ranks. And as the evening cometh, The night air, faint and still. Wafts slowly o'er thy waters The voice of '' whip-poor-will." Again, methinks, I hear it, A mournful, soothing lay. In mellow cadence floating. That dieth soon away. And now the moon ariseth ; With gentle, silver glow It glances on thy pine-trees, Then on thyself below. 144 TAUNTON RIVER And 'neath thy burnished surface, Together with the sky, Like rubies in their setting, The stars reflected lie. Oh, river of my childhood, Oh, river bright and free. Accept the simple strophes My muse has brought to thee. MORN 145 MORN The rising sun's first beams Grow brighter, higher, And trees, and hills, and streams Glow with a golden fire. The trees now nod their heads, Wave their branches green ; The streams o'er sandy beds. Slow rippling on, are seen. Now mist rolls up the hills, Shrouds in purple gloom The forests and the rills. And flowers in their bloom. The tinkling of the bells, Sounding here and there. Harmonically swells Upon the morning air. Along the green hilltops, And the level plain. Light zephyrs wave the crops Of ripe and yellow grain. The lowing of the kine Soundeth from a stream. Which phant willows line And form a drooping screen. 146 MORN The farmer's lusty shout Echoes, echoes still, And slowly dieth out Thro' intervale and hill. With beauty all things beam ; Lovely is the sight, And save in poet's dream, No morn was e'er more bright. TROUT-FISHING 147 TROUT-FISHING Where yonder sinuous stream its slow length winds Along beneath the drooping alder bush And feathery fern, whose arrogance doth push It aye to seek the extremest verge that binds The ill-restrained deep from overflow — There gently drop thy treacherous lure within The circling eddy — round and round 'twill spin. Anon, as swift as arrow from the bow, With strength to test the deftest line and rod, Some luckless rover comes, that sans a doubt Will gorge the bait, and then his time is brief. The strain's severe ; but soon upon the sod You land him safe, and trembling like a leaf, You watch the well-won prize — a monster trout. 148 BASS-FISHING BASS-FISHING Where loud resounds the surge along the shore Of Assawampsett's lake, and wildly swell Its billows — there full often in his shell Piscator sits, regardless of the roar, And moves his pliant rod with watchful eye To mark the strain that draws his float adown ; And when it comes, each hair upon his crown Will stand on end ; for well he knows some sly And hungry bass has found the minnow out, And means to bolt it whole, without a qualm : But, striking just in time, Piscator sets The barbed hook within his maw. Though stout He may resist, the reel his courage frets, Until he yields to his proud captor's arm. QUAIL-SHOOTING 149 QUAIL-SHOOTING When autumn comes, and on the frosty air The quail's low pipe is borne unto the ear Of him who waits impatiently to hear, That he may to the stubble-fields repair — What pleasure then, close quartering all the ground, To watch the well-trained dog — now here, now there He moves in nervous haste, and yet with care. Until his point betrays the bevy found. The sportsman then proceeds without delay- To flush the wily birds; and when they spring Tumultuously aloft, and plain to view, Ne'er lets them go unchallenged on their way; But takes a rapid aim, as well as true. And to his bag some luckless brace doth bring. 1 50 RABBIT-SHOOTING RABBIT-SHOOTING When from the ancient peg, whereon it hangs, The old fusee some truant boy takes down, And slopes at once to 'scape parental frown, And seeks the nearest wood — though loudly bangs The door he left ajar — a startling sound To those who dream within — he nothing heeds; But whistling gayly on his way proceeds. While slowly after limps the aged hound. But when he strikes a scent that leads him on To heaps of brush, and pokes therein his nose. And out the rabbit scuds, the sight renews The strength of youth — decrepitude is gone — He loudly roars, and swiftly then pursues. Until the gun the quarry's flight doth close. THE ROBIN 151 THE ROBIN Thou tuneful warbler of the spring, I hear Thy sweet notes trill upon the morning air, Till farthest dale and glen and meadows fair Catch up the lingering strains more sweet and clear Than first they left thy tiny, panting breast ; — With lengthened cadence, trembling o'er and o'er, Thy untaught symphonies entrance me more Than loftier flights, howe'er so well expressed. Of studied art. How sweetly dost thou sing ! — Come, once again, chime in thy very best. While I, with eager ear, attend thy call! Thine are the songs that welcome in the spring ; May such, as carolled now my soul enthrall. Be sung above my grave, where'er I rest. 152 DREAMS DREAMS I SWING in my hammock, beneath the grand elms, And I dream both of fortune and fame; And I say, the faint-hearted the wave overwhelms, While the brave win success and a name. And I think, when a victor, I return from the fight, I will sail to some tropical sea. Where the palm-sheltered isles make a home of delight, And its mistress my true love shall be. I swing in my hammock, while over my head Float the clouds of a midsummer's day; And I dream, as I swing, of the joys that have fled, Through the mists of the years passed away. And I sigh, as I think of the pleasures of youth That have vanished in sorrow and tears; While the treasure I looked for, love, honor, and truth, But the illusion of fancy appears. I swing in my hammock, while, shrivelled and brown. All the leaves overhead seem to sigh. As they fall from the bough, floating tremblingly down. Till at rest on the meadow they lie. And I say, I shall fall, as the leaves fell before; I shall fade like the light of the sun; I shall fold my tired arms when my labors are o'er, And the last of my dreaming is done. THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 153 THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES O'er the broad and rolling prairies, Just as free as desert air, With the lightsome grace of fairies, Roamed an Indian maiden fair, Roamed an Indian maiden fair. And her eyes, so darkly flashing, Smote the chieftain's heart in twain. On his fleetest pony dashing As he swept across the plain. " My love, my life, my own! " 'Twas thus he made his moan, Where the broad and rolling prairies Were their witnesses alone. O'er the broad and rolling prairies. Came a man of stranger race, And he saw this Queen of Fairies, And of her he made his chase. And of her he made his chase. But she said to him : '' Ah, never Will a stranger win my charms." And she fled from him forever, And she sought her warrior's arms. '' My love, my life, my own!" Were mutual murmurs thrown Where the broad and rolling prairies Were their witnesses alone. 154 THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES O'er the broad and rolling prairies Came the paleface in pursuit Of this charming Queen of Fairies, And her lover he would shoot, And her lover he would shoot. Then he crouched behind some willows, While he watched with jealous eyes; On a limb his rifle pillows — As he shoots the lover dies. " My love, my life, my own!" It was his dying groan. Where the broad and rolling prairies Were the witnesses alone. O'er the broad and rolling prairies Bright the sun had tinged the west, While the weeping Queen of Fairies Held her lover to her breast. Held her lover to her breast. She had staunched the life-blood flowing From the wound the paleface gave. And for cooling waters going. Oft his brow and lips would lave. *' My love, my life, my own ! " 'Twas thus she made her moan. Where the broad and rolling prairies Were their witnesses alone. O'er the broad and rolling prairies. While the evening shadows fell, THE BROAD AND ROLLING PRAIRIES 155 From the grieving Queen of Fairies Long the sounds of sorrow swell, Long the sounds of sorrow swell. But at last from swoon reviving, See the warrior's pulses beat ! And, the paleface wound surviving, He his Queen again shall greet: " My love, my life, my own ! Through joy and sorrow known," Where the broad and rolling prairies Were their witnesses alone. O'er the broad and rolling prairies. As the twinkling stars came out. Low he whispers : " Queen of Fairies, Bid farewell to fear and doubt. Bid farewell to fear and doubt. On thy lips the kisses burning Say to grief, be ever dumb ; Think of joys again returning. And of happy days to come. My love, my life, my own ! Through suffering dearer grown." Where the broad and rolling prairies Were their witnesses alone. 156 THE RESCUED FAWN THE RESCUED FAWN The Southern Cross is in the sky ; And o'er the wave shoot trembUngly Ten thousand rays of sparkHng hght, From all the starry gems of night. The moon is up — and round her zone A fleecy robe of clouds has thrown, Like some fair maid whose first surprise, Would tempt her hide from lover's eyes ! Far on the beach and sandy shore I hear the distant billows roar — 'Tis mournful as the last farewell That lovers at their parting tell. The high woods crown the lofty hill ; And round their summits hovering still, A huge white bird of prey doth go. In wavering circles to and fro. He darts across the distant plain — He soars, he swoops, he's off again ! A little fawn whose dewy eye Beheld in fear his shadow nigh, Did flee for refuge to a thorn. And lay there trembling and forlorn. The sharpest point may pierce her side — She's safe, nor cares what pains betide. And while I gaze — behold, a girl As pure and stainless as the pearl ; THE RESCUED FAWN 157 With eyes so dove-like, it would seem On Heaven, her home, they surely dream ; While curling hair like strands of gold, And unconfined by fillet, rolled Like rippling sunshine down her neck, All free of trammel and of check ; Of figure slight, and forehead fair, With faint pink cheeks, and features rare — And all the grace of form and mien, To well become the grandest queen. Enough, enough ! Such charms as these Deserve some proud Praxiteles To make each flowing outline clear In marbled whiteness reappear — Some magic master of his art, A just resemblance to impart. That her surpassing beauty might On canvas live, forever bright ! She paused and said : '' That little fawn You see all trembling and forlorn Belongs to me. This very day, While I was holding her at play. The little silver chain she wore Escaped my grasp. I saw no more Of her till now, though I have been All day in search o'er every green. And wandering every pathway through Where I could think her straying to. Pray can you catch her, sir, for me ? And I will, oh, so grateful be ! " 158 THE RESCUED FAWN And I replied : " Fair maid, the task Is welcome as the heart could ask To lend assistance, when in need Sweet tones like yours so gently plead." I ventured forward, caught the chain ; The little fawn was hers again. I wandered homeward by her side, And when the fawn was safely tied, We strolled through many a bower of ease, 'Mid fragrant lime and orange trees. She plucked a flower, and in my breast She placed it, there to be at rest, Memento sweet of that sweet night. I kissed her hand in her despite. And as I parted with her there, I could but breathe this silent prayer : '' May all thy life be guided so. That flowers may round thy pathway grow ; May never evil bird of prey Clutch thee or thine, or friends betray ! Be every danger far from thee ; May peace and fair prosperity, With every comfort thee attend, Both now and aye, unto the end ! " AMY ROBSART 159 AMY ROBSART Lines on visiting Kenilworth Castle, December 31, 1894 Ye gray-clad towers, dismantled keep — Round which the clustering ivies creep — Methinks I hear a voice of woe ; That tells a tale of long ago. List, Amy, list to my despair ! No queen with thee my love shall share ; For thee alone this broad domain I claim and hold, yet sigh in vain — What length of years, what sacred vow — Can gain the boon I wish for now ? Must I lose all, and yet gain naught ? Where is that love for which I sought ? Must I that lip, whose treasured dew Will yield no sweet, no more pursue ? So fair thine eye as angel's own — For love of thee I lose a throne ! II Stay, Leicester, stay ! am I not thine ? — My love, my life, with thee entwine — Nor perils great, disgrace, or shame — My home forgot, my own fair fame — Can swerve the heart that grants thee all ; And lives to love, whate'er befall. l6o AMY ROBSART My friends, my joys, my peace of mind, For thee, to thee, are all resigned. A maiden's heart, when once she gives. In him who holds thereafter lives ! Not thine the cost, the pain not thine — Have I thy heart ? Thou sure hast mine ! AT SEA l6l AT SEA The crested waves are combing ! In froth and foam they fall ; Anon go tossing skyward, Like some Titanic wall. All capped with hoary whiteness They rear their mighty heads ! While o'er the darkened heavens A misty shadow spreads. The sun is near its setting, The wind doth follow free ; That power, no soul forgetting, Will guide the ship and me. 1 62 THE BLOODY TOWER THE BLOODY TOWER I The tread of strangers echoes here — The lowly trample crowns ; Nor reck of murdered princes near, Or cruel Gloucester's frowns ! Can aught of earth weigh in the scale When innocence is slain — Will justice, mercy, ever fail To right such wrong again ? Ah, no ! The head will feel the thorns - Weak flesh will quake with fear — The dreaded nights will bring no morns Such crimes as this to clear ! Ah ! Richard, guilty, guilty, thou ! No time can e'er efface The stain on thy dishonored brow That hireling fingers trace. II Here in this chamber, here they lay, Asleep with clasped hands ; In dreams again they were at play. Released from prison bands. THE BLOODY TOWER 163 But how released ! Let silence tell ! Their death-cold faces say ! The eyes whence tears no more can well, Nor more can see the day ! With skulking steps, as they were bid, The traces of their crime The graceless ruffians silent hid — Accursed through all time. Their master paid the price agreed ; Each one received his share, That ill repaid the foulest deed The blackest annals bear. Ill Oh, slaves of that unrighteous one — Oh, followers of greed ! The royal line ye have fordone A tyrant must succeed ! And now on earth, a guilty man. Must Richard evermore The face of friends in terror scan. And oft his crime deplore ! *' Oh, lust of power ! Oh, greed of gain ! Of what is conquest worth, When one his own true kin has slain* To win their share of earth ? 164 THE BLOODY TOWER Beloved they were ; my traitrous heart Resolved to have the throne ; The hireling ruffians did their part — The guerdon is my own. Nor night nor day will joy anew, Or hope my bosom fill ; Dread shapes and visions in review My heart with horror thrill. A crime like mine each tie has burst That love or honor taught ; And evermore my life is cursed, My path with peril fraught." THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE 165 THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE LIBER II, CARMEN X My dearest friend Licinius, if you desire to know How to navigate securely when the winds of fortune blow, You must not be over-venturous, as on the deep you go. Nor press the shore too closely, for dangers lurk below. 'Tis he who seeks "the golden mean" most likely will obtain The proximate of happiness, and freed from earthly bane Of cares that come with riches, a dark unseemly train ; The cause of deep anxieties, perplexing to the brain. It is the tree of lofty growth far towering to the sky That oftenest feels the shock of storms and whirlwinds sweeping by ; 'Tis oftenest round the mountain-peaks the lurid light- nings fly. And thunder-bolts will smite the tower that art has builded high. The only true philosopher, the man innately wise. Is he who trusts in Providence, and on himself relies ; Prepared in his prosperity for evils as they rise ; Who never unto penury a helping hand denies. l66 THOUGHTS, FROM HORACE What though the storm is raging, and obscure the light of day ; Still the sun is ever shining, and hereafter will display His bright and beaming visage with invigorated ray. When Jehovah wills cessation and the elements obey. E'en Apollo courts the muses, joining oft the lyric choir, Waking echoes of deep harmony, bending o'er the tuneful lyre; Aye unmindful of his arrows, as frenzied with the fire Of poesy, he touches each gently quivering wire. Neither shake your canvas out too freely from the brail, Nor keep it double-reefed, ever fearful of a gale ! But exert a sound discretion that will oftentimes avail, And with the help of chart and compass you will pros- perously sail. FLOWERS 167 FLOWERS There are flowers, fairest flowers, Blooming on the verdant mead. That are crushed beneath our footsteps, And we scarcely give them heed ; But they spring beneath the sunshine, In all their colors dressed ; And in their glowing petals Again the dewdrops rest. The tread that crushed them downwards Gave but a moment's pain — Their life again is joyous — They rise and bloom again. But the flowers of pure affection. Once crushed beneath our tread, Can never be restored to us — They evermore are dead. l68 THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY Poem delivered on the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Insti- tution OF Charles H. Titus Lodge, Taunton, Mass., March 28, 1898 Five thousand years, and more, have sped Adown the slope of Time, Since first Masonic Light was shed On that far Eastern clime, Where Solomon in glory reigned At height of earthly power — Nor yet our cherished truths disdained As his most precious dower; And when the Temple reared its head To meet the bended sky, Commingled strength and beauty spread Their treasures to the eye ; For Hiram wrought such rare design To ornament the fane, It seemed as if some mazy line Might lead to Heaven again. Although he did not live to see The finished fabric stand, His Spirit in our work may be Forever near at hand. Primeval Lodge, it was thy son His life undaunted gave — The crown of Victory truly won, And triumphed o'er the grave ; THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 1 69 And if, to speak befitting praise Within my power could be, Oh, noble Brother, none would raise A prouder strain to thee. Five thousand years may pass and fade; — Five thousand years ensue, And yet thy virtues be displayed — Thy story ever new. Against the centuries that have passed, Our life indeed is young, But, as the sun melts snow at last, Whence rapid streams have sprung. That broadened, rolled with mighty breast, Down to the sounding main — So may our course ne'er be repressed, Our progress naught restrain. And while this Lodge remains our Home, The ties which hold us here Will make us one, where'er we roam, Each to the other dear. Not wealth ensures us good content. Good deeds alone repay ; And he who boasts a life well spent, His wealth endures for aye ; For then corruption tempts him not — O'er conscience none prevail — His honest worth is ne'er forgot. And none will dare assail. Then let us live as Masons true In all our journey here. I/O THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY And, at its close, the Veil pass through Without a shade of fear ; For Faith doth teach us Trust in God Through every earthly ill ; The humble heart doth feel the rod, But trusts and praises still. And Hope to every human breast This fond assurance gives : " Let all thy doubts be set at rest, The soul immortal lives." And Charity her gracious hand Extends to all below ; And ever, where the wretched stand, Her mantle she doth throw. This Faith is ours — this Hope as well — And Charity beside ; Think ye that evil e'er befell, Where such as they abide ? But ever, as the years roll o'er. And youthful pleasures fade. Our Life's sad burden presses more — The sunlight turns to shade. And when our footsteps reach that bourne. Whence none return again — Though some there be, who come to mourn, Whose hearts are wrung with pain ; Yet, onward, upward, we must go, Where Light supernal shines. Where angel voices murmur low, In tones the heart divines. THE TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY i/i The loved, the lost, will greet us there, Those far more dear than life ; The little hands, once held in prayer, Long closed to earthly strife. Again may clasped in om's remain ; Again the tongue may speak, The eye look love to ours again, The warm kiss press the cheek. What treasure, then, has earth to give — Who here would long delay ? Eternal Life is ours to live. For that we cast away ! While, as the years glide on apace, And springs of life grow less. And younger Brothers take our place, We welcome them, and bless. May God's good care guide every one Who enters here for aye ; And lead, when earthly Work is done, To Heaven's unending day. 1/2 VIRTUES OF MASONRY VIRTUES OF MASONRY Poem delivered on the One Hundredth Anniversary of King David Lodge, Taunton, June 15, 1898 Lo, in the east the dawn appears, Betokening break of day ; The earth looks smiling through its tears, The clouds are borne away. The little birds with tuneful throats On every bending spray, • Within the brake prolong their notes In many a roundelay. Above the trees — across the mount, The yellow saffron glow Of morn is thrown upon the fount, In all its sparkling flow. The tears of night, like diamonds bright. That hide within the flowers, Exhale away beneath the light. In odor-scented showers. The whispering leaves of forest trees In gentle voices say : " The morn has come, and darkness flees Before the break of day." VIRTUES OF MASONRY 173 As from the east the light awakes, That darkness must obey — So from the east our order takes Its great and glorious way. So many years, so many years, Tradition sets the time When masonry at first appears, To teach its truth sublime. Four cardinal virtues are our boast ; By Temperance we restrain The passions that allure the most. Ere they the mastery gain. And Fortitude, that noble trait. By which the mind endures — Through deepest pain, and peril great, A steadfast soul ensures ; While Prudence tells us how to act. And regulate our lives ; The firm foundation is, in fact, On which sound judgment thrives. And Justice is that bound of right Which gives to each his due — Regards all equal in its sight — Whose scales are ever true. These virtues then, while we profess, And cherish as our own. 1/4 VIRTUES OF MASONRY Let not neglect observe them less, Nor vice usurp their throne. Some instances the lesson teach, That I would fain impart ; And simple words may give in speech The utterance of the heart. O'er Russian steppes the way is long, The day is cold and drear ; The courier plies his cracking thong, His voice is loud and clear. He cheers his drooping steeds to flight. Where silent forests frown ; For fear that with the fall of night The fierce gray wolves come down. The jingling bells all quicker chime, The sledge doth glide more free ; 'Neath hoary trees, where mosses climb. Dark objects seem to be. And hark, again a startling sound Strikes baleful on the ear ; A long-drawn howl, that floats around. Proclaims the wolves are near. He urges on his headlong flight ; His anxious gaze doth turn ; He sees dim shadows through the night, And fiery eyeballs burn. VIRTUES OF MASONRY 175 Oh, courage, courage, noble steeds — The way before is clear ; . And as the forest now recedes. The housetop rises near ; So with redoubled efforts strain — And cease your wild alarm ; Ye soon will be at home again, And sheltered from all harm. But what are wolves with ravenous eyes, Who follow so swift and true. To the hungry hate that the good defies, And the evil the wretched do ? The wolf of hunger will lead to sin — And sin will lead to woe ; These three gaunt wolves have ever been — And the best sometimes o'erthrow. What tenets do we, as Masons hold ? Who lists to the starved ones' cry ? Who parts with his store, nor cherishes gold ? Who heeds when the wretched die ? Is brotherly love an unmeaning word ? Is relief but a painted lie? Is truth but a sound by the fainting heard ? Must they call without reply ? The very first lesson that we are taught Is to join with heart and tongue 1/6 VIRTUES OF MASONRY In promoting the welfare, in deed and thought, Of 'brothers both old and young. To rejoice with them, as they with us, To give them a helping hand ; And through the world to travel thus, — A brotherly, friendly band. In many and many a home to-day The wolf of hunger is dead ; The widow and orphan together pray, And their prayers are nightly said To the Ruler of all for the kindly hand That has aided them in their need, As, true to their tenets, the Masons stand And the mouths of the hungry feed. The wolf of sin in his fastness hides. For he shrinks from the light of day ; And happiness over the earth presides, And rejoicing rules alway. The face of woe is wreathed in smiles ; The gaunt, pale form grows fair; The sunlight of joy all grief beguiles. And the sorrowing are freed from care. The light burns faint through the window-pane. The fingers of want are there ; And they work from night till the morn again. And the heart sinks 'neath despair. VIRTUES OF MASONRY 1 77 The mother is old, in failing health, The daughter is young and fair ; They long had basked in the glow of wealth And were free from toil and care. Misfortune came, and the father died ; All earthly goods were sold; The homestead went, to his debts applied, And their friends grew strange and cold. They left the scenes that once they knew — To a garret for shelter came — They dropped from sight, as poor folks do, In their sensitive fear and shame. And long they toiled the wolf to stay That threatened them at their door ; The mother grew weaker from day to day, And at last could toil no more. And now on a flimsy pallet of straw As the dying mother lay, Should it be that the daughter forgot the law, Taking bread from the baker's tray } What Christian then to the weight of sin Would an added pressure bear. Till a soul was lost it were well to win. And she fell beneath despair .? But so it is, as the world doth see So many and many times, 1/8 VIRTUES OF MASONRY And many a shipwrecked heart must be Forced downward to deeper crimes. And the waif flits out into the busy street, Where the passers go to and fro ; And she lists to the sound of the many feet, And her step is sad and slow. Her face and form are fair to see As those in the gilded hall, 'Mid the music and laughter floating free In the maze of the dizzy ball. O shipwrecked soul, to thy home return ; The pittance that thou might' st gain The motherly heart can never learn, — For death has its victim ta'en. Despair, despair to the heart of sin ; Now it reaches the depth of woe ; No hope for thee in the troubled din Of the careless world below. Ah ! relief will come from a brother's hand E'er despair has driven thee wild ; For Samaritan-like doth the Mason stand To relieve his brother's child. No brother forgets the lesson taught When first he assumes our ties ; And in distress, when relief is sought, His willing hand supplies. VIRTUES OF MASONRY 179 The widow and orphan alike rejoice; They know that they need not fear. They hear his true and manly voice, And dry the trickling tear. And all the aid their wants require Is at once and freely given ; Their hearts are warmed by the kindling fire, And their grief away is driven. In place of hunger and sin and woe, That fall on the poor forsaken, — Fierce wolves that ever unsated go. Whose clutch can ne'er be shaken, — Behold come love, relief, and truth. Armed ever for assistance ; That guard the old and aid the youth And vanquish all resistance. Again a lesson that all should learn And treasure it up anew ; The best reward that we can earn Is to be good and just and true. Be brave, if ever occasion comes ; Be faithful in all you do ; Nor fear the sound of the hostile drums If the enemy's force pours through. Remember that men have been before, Who perished as brave men will ; l8o VIRTUES OF MASONRY The tale of the deeds they did of yore Must encourage to greater still. Though men be brave o'er flood and field, No step of theirs retreating ; Whose pride and courage ne'er would yield, Till death was their defeating ; There is a courage higher still — A firmness all unshaken, Where heart and conscience rule the will, By all of earth forsaken. Joan of Arc, that peasant queen. More royal one ne'er living, Who had such faith and truth serene The flames seemed pleasure giving. A woman's heart it was that bore With more than Christian meekness ; And through the fiery furnace wore A smile of angel sweetness. The cruel soldiers stood around — The pyre was all completed — The maiden's looks their souls confound, Whom they with scoff had greeted. The martyr bore upon her head A mitre, ever glorious ; For so she lives, tho' she be dead, O'er death and time victorious. VIRTUES OF MASONRY i8l With long hair flowing to her waist, In robe of simple neatness, On her it seemed that Heaven had placed The seal of all completeness. The white robe swayed, the flames leaped up, In prayer her lips were moving — The soul that tastes life's bitter cup Leaves all to God's approving. The priest, who, moved by holy zeal. Her side had ne'er forsaken. Felt not the flames that rise and wheel. And soon had both o'ertaken. " Go down ! " she said. " Leave me to God, Lift up the cross before me. I tread the path that saints have trod, Whose grace is shining o'er me. To Jesus I, by faith sustained, Commit my spirit lowly. The life I lose is life regained. Where all is pure and holy." How wept they then — the soldiers wept, At words so saint-like spoken ; True to their oath the soldiers kept, But she kept faith unbroken. ** She dies a martyr. We are lost. Her soul with God reposes ; 1 82 VIRTUES OF MASONRY And for our crime comes fearful cost, Against us Heaven closes." And one who threw his fagot last, Where fiercest flames were blending. Saw midst the glow, like furnace blast, A white-winged dove ascending — That, all unharmed by fire and smoke, Its way to heaven was wending ; And through that fiery column broke. With angel forms attending. If woman is of body frail — Too weak with man contending — At death her spirit does not quail, But glorifies its ending. The time has sped — one hundred years Their round have made complete ; And this old Lodge still hale appears. And firm upon its feet. King David Lodge, the pioneer, One hundred years has stood ; Its Record shows distinct and clear, Its Power has been for good. Its founders long have passed away. From earthly cares at rest, Awaiting that eternal day To rise among the blest. VIRTUES OF MASONRY 183 And, during all this lapse of time, What wonders do we see. Our country yet is in its prime. And grander still to be. Invention strives, with ready art, To traverse earth and air ; With ease the sea is cleft apart. The lightning's power we share. And, if our course be guided right. The light that shines to-day Will never sink beneath the night. But glow with living ray. Our institutions must be free. As first our fathers planned ; The freedom of our schools must be Unchecked by any hand ; Here happiness can be maintained. Here dwells the free-born heart. And never may the treasure gained Be lost by intrigue's art. The future looks to this proud land For progress yet to be ; And many hearts upon the strand Of lands beyond the sea — Their anxious gaze are turning here, They list to freedom's call — And soon may come the happy year That grants it unto all. APPENDIX WILLIAM McKINLEV. CANTON. OHIO. Bovemter 18, 1895. ttp. Honrjr Dean Atwood, Taunton, Uass. Iftr dear sir:- I thank you for your ©oxa?tesy in sending me a copy of your Intea?national Ode, and I congratulate you on your pre- sentation of tlie most lofty spirit of humanitarianisn and good- will among men, and partioxxlarily between the two great Brjgllsh- speaking nations. Very truly yours. .^S^^'^- iJx^J i86 Homy D. Atwobd, ^sq. , Taunton, Mass* My dear Sir:- I received last evening copies of your Intemational Lost Ode of Greeting and your souvenir poan The Arrow Which I have read with much interest ana pleasure. Please accept my thanks, and "believe me. Very truly yours. ^^^u Tr^^^T^. 187 / uVa^VJ. cL^ OoV^ S\\~ tUAAV<, XA^XA; ^/W5^^^^^^/• ^ W^ n^ ^'nOr ^ (^ 1 88 189 THOMAS SAVAGE, COUNSELLOR AT LAW No. 6 TREMONT ST. BOSTON. MASS.,^e/^ Jl^O ^^^ Cp l/Hdy^z^ CuTc^lyl^.'LJi^-X Ja /(^C^^y OZ^t^yC^ i^^^yfUM IQO OJfKe o) J S GUSHING & GO. Norwood, Mass, Oct, 19, 1898. Dictated. Henry D. Atwood, Esq., Taunton, Mass. My dear Mr. Atwood:-? I believe that I have now received all of the proofs of yotrr volume of Poems. In closing our correspond- ence, for a time at least, I cannot refrain ftrom espressins the pleasure I have had In reading them, particularly the two entitled respectively "Hie Last Arrow" and the "Ode of Greeting". The lat- ter strlKes a responsive chord just at this time when our war with Spain seems to have brought the two great English-speaKlng nations Into closer and friendlier relations than over before. I heartily wish you success in your undertalcliig. Please put pe down for two copies, as I desire to send one to a friend. Very tnuy yoiu*s. \l- f U-T£=^*-^"^. *-^ x-^j^^^c^ -^^i /^ /Uyi^^^ 192 Haiti mo re 2fe y^^is< 193 .HEADQUARTERS. .^,ttt »f ^«/*^^^, 3^ .5" > *^ '*% ost^^. ^***^^ , X ^^ — 194 CONSULATE-GENERAL OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMEFtlCA. HABANA, Maroh 15, 1898. Henry D. Atvrood, Esq., Taunton, Mass. Dear Sir: I beg to aclcnowledse receipt pf your poeia "The ArroTX", and to assiire you that I appreciate your very icind and ooHpli- aentar;'- note. Very truly you.vs, 195 Oot. 6, 1898 t Mr. Henry D. Atwood, Taunton^ Mass* Dear sir: I am in receipt of yotir letter of the 28tli tiltino, together with the docu- ments referred to therein, for which please accept my thanks. Very^ truly yotirs. Major General Commanding < 196 y imasms Tfm mMMJM-^W, <^cmm/. ^^-^^^-^ta^e House Boston ^^r g ^ rJ/JJ, // y/S^JC 1/ ,,^ -^L^4.^i^^ d,:^ ^^ <^^.^ j^a/f 197 EDWARD M. HAMLEN, Adjutant. LEONARD C. COUCH. Commander. FRANK E. VVliLLMAN. Quartermaster. mm^ (D)ff WteiP^rmgo Oc iHiiesKniqiniisirtters TAaNrow, MASS. October 4, 1898- Mr. Henry D. Atwood, Taunton, Uass. My dear Sir: Yoior comlns book of Poems Is one which will be warmly welcomed by all patriotic' citizens, and especially and with great pride, by those of your native city. A copy of your complete works has been long desired by many and I join with them In thanking you for tlius gratifying o^xc wishes. Yours truly. Division conmander. 198 :/ ': ] ticf yd W/ .C^y^-i, -iw 199 Ma'-lioroug:h "House. 'PalJ MaU S W ^i^^ ^ 200