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 P s 
 
 044 
 
 376 
 
 
 
 
 IkVA 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Shelf .A.tL-5^76 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
PMMBBH 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 Frank Humphreys. 
 h 
 
 Press of E. B. Yordy, 
 
 Market Street, Wilkes-Barre, Pa. 
 
 1889. 
 

 COPYRIGHT^OCT. 25, 1889, 
 
 BY 
 
 Frank Humphreys. 
 
Introduction ai?d Dedication 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In the composition of "Amabel" the author has 
 endeavored to make his language very plain, not con- 
 cealing his meaning in a wilderness of words ; to use- 
 only words which should be in the vocabulary of a 
 grammar-school pupil ; to avoid the impure language 
 and allusions of the "poets of passion." 
 
 As the verses were written hastily, and in odd mo- 
 ments, the kind reader should overlook all crudities. 
 
 It may interest the author's personal friends to know 
 that he set all the type from which this little book is 
 printed. 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 To my friends of the press — the several editors, the 
 several " devils," and the many intermediaries. 
 
 The Author. 
 Wilkes-Banc, Pa. 
 
 
Go, little book ! the world is wide, 
 There's room and verge enough for thee ; 
 For thou hast learned that only pride 
 Lacketh fit opportunity, 
 Which comes unbid to modesty. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Beg thou a cup -full from the spring 
 Of Charity, in Christ's dear name ; 
 Few will deny so small a thing, 
 Nor ask unkindly is thou came 
 Of one whose life might do thee shame. 
 
 We all are prone to go astray, 
 Our hopes are bright, our lives are dim ; 
 But thou art pure, and if they say, 
 " We know thy father, and our whim 
 He pleases not," — plead thou for him. 
 
 J. R. Lowell. 
 
HEsTDEEX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 AMABEL 
 
 Part I . 7 
 
 Part 2 29 
 
 At Christmas-tide 76 
 
 Daisy M. Scott 73 
 
 How the Snow Comes Down 78 
 
 Original Draft of Amabel 67 
 
 Richard Winlack 74 
 
 Sonnet— Night 72 
 
 The Frost Upon the Pane 71 
 
 Winter Chorus 70 
 
i^Mi^BE^. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 I. 
 
 i. 
 The dome that spans Wyoming vale 
 Seems ether of a fairer hue 
 
 Than any elsewhere seen ; 
 And when the waning sunbeams fail, — 
 When evening shades the sky's bright blue, 
 
 And Heaven appears to lean 
 Toward the earth to bless pure souls, — 
 When Night his sable vapor rolls 
 
 Down grand old mountains round, — 
 Each beauteous star within the sky 
 Is sure to turn its shining eye 
 Toward this Eden of the West, 
 Where friendship dwells within each breast 
 
 And love is ever found. 
 
 2. 
 Where the broad Susquehanna flows 
 Between high cliffs near Nanticoke, — 
 
AMABEL. 
 
 Between high cliffs o'ertopped with oak, — 
 And ever murmurs as it goes, 
 There dwelt a maid named Amabel, — 
 A maid as lovely as the rose 
 To which the June wind softly blows 
 The tint of storied asphodel, — 
 A maid with heart as warm and white 
 As is the lily's spreading chine 
 What time the morning chases night 
 And day begins to shine. 
 
 3- 
 Did the lost pleiad of the skies 
 Transfer his light to her dear eyes ? 
 Ah, no ! Their light was softer far 
 Than that which comes from common star,- 
 Their light — their liquid light — was given 
 From fairest orb in highest heaven. 
 
 4- 
 
 Her hair was of that darksome brown 
 Which lies on Autumn's somber hills 
 What time staid Twilight cometh down 
 To sit and muse by earthly rills ; 
 And yet, to bright its sober shade, 
 A mere suspicion of the morn 
 Was in its shadows lightly laid ; — 
 
AMABEL. 9 
 
 A faint suspicion of the morn 
 
 As softly through its shadows strayed 
 
 As sunbeams through the tasseled corn. 
 
 5- 
 And now, as slow she wanders down 
 The mountain's rough and woody side, 
 Fair Luna drops a silver crown 
 Upon her head. The streamlets glide 
 Less noisily, — they would not lose 
 One note of that entrancing song 
 With which the maid the echoes woos, 
 In tones both sweet and strong. 
 
 6. 
 
 O balmy wind ! 
 
 My true-love find, 
 And bid him haste to me ; 
 
 The moon so bright 
 
 And pale starlight 
 Will pave a path for thee. 
 
 7- 
 
 O lovely moon ! 
 
 Make night as noon, 
 And guide my love to me ; 
 
 Then veil thy sight, 
 
 That naught but Night 
 My happiness may see. 
 
io AMABEL. 
 
 8. 
 While the last word is echoing yet 
 
 From giant rocks around, — 
 While the charmed air is quivering yet 
 
 With that last lovely sound, — 
 The color of the red June-rose 
 Flies to the face of Amabel, 
 And swiftly down the mount she goes 
 
 To meet young Lionel. 
 
 9- 
 
 Ah ! who that meeting could portray ? 
 What actor reproduce those sighs, — 
 Those happy sighs, like symphonies 
 Which bring the tears into our eyes, 
 Although the heart be light as day ? 
 Sweet Amabel, with upturned face, 
 Ne'er thought of Luna far above ; 
 While clasped in Lionel's embrace 
 Her heart had room for naught but love ; 
 And Lionel held all his world, — 
 That slender girl, with azure eyes, 
 And floating hair which round her curled, 
 Was more to him than Paradise. 
 
 io. 
 Oh, wondrous sweet is Love's young dream ! 
 And even the old man wanders still 
 
AMABEL. 1 1 
 
 To each old haunt,— the vale, the hill, 
 The trysting place beside the stream, — 
 Then sighs to think he did but dream. 
 When lovers meet earth fades away, 
 And heaven itself is even forgot ; 
 L ove _ an d Love only— dares to stay,— 
 Love— Love triumphant— holds full sway 
 
 And charms the happy spot. 
 When lovers meet, stars shine in vain, — 
 The gentle wind doth vainly sing, — 
 In vain the flowers their odors fling 
 To the night breeze,— and even Pain 
 Will vainly claim attention here ; 
 For lovers dwell from out the sphere 
 Of bodily ills; naught can them move 
 Till jealousy shall shake their love ; 
 And even then they love the same, — 
 Their fancied hate but lives in name. 
 
 II. 
 
 i. 
 Young Amabel was daughter of a sire 
 Who sought this lonely spot to end his days 
 In quietude. A life-consuming fire 
 Had preyed upon his heart until the rays 
 Of reason shone but dimly in his mind ; 
 Yet meek he was, and never aught but kind. 
 
12 AMABEL. 
 
 2. 
 
 Two years before he moved to this lone place, 
 His wife was murdered, sleeping in her bed. 
 'Twas in his absence, and a lifeless face 
 Was turned to his when he returned home, — 
 A face where dark Decay was come to nome, — 
 A lifeless face What more needs to be said ? 
 
 3- 
 
 O Death ! thou torturer of loving hearts ! 
 
 Thou mental Inquisition ! couldst thou not 
 
 Have come in other form ? Thou hast blunt darts 
 
 Which kill so slowly that, ere life departs, 
 
 The dying one may ease the frenzy wrought 
 
 By thy approach ; and he who is left behind, 
 
 May in the last farewell some solace find. 
 
 4. 
 
 So Amabel, when but a child, was brought 
 
 To this lone mount ; and here she grew so fair 
 
 She scarce seemed human. Happy was her lot ; 
 
 For wealth her father had, and tenderly 
 
 He loved and guarded her. His anxious care 
 
 Was such as in hurt minds we often see, — 
 
 A love pathetic in intensity. 
 
AMABEL. 13 
 
 5. 
 And he had private tutors for the maid, 
 So she was learned in things which go to make 
 Beauty more beautiful ; and ne'er a shade 
 Of sorrow yet had crossed her life, save that 
 For her dear mother's death, and that was faded 
 Near from her memory. For her sweet sake 
 Her father ne'er complained, and so peace sat 
 Light in her heart — that heart soon to be o'ershaded 
 By darkest clouds. Alas ! the happiest heart 
 Is fairest target for foul Slander's dart. 
 
 III. 
 1. 
 The father of Lionel lived in the vale, 
 At the foot of the mountain, and close to that stream 
 So famous in song, and in hist'ry, and tale, — 
 The broad Susquehanna, whose calm waters flow 
 With a music as grand and as sweet and as low 
 As the mystical strains that one hears in a dream. 
 
 2. 
 In summer young Lionel worked on the farm 
 Of his father, and after the harvest he went 
 To the school at old Shawnee. Ten winters well spent 
 Served to strengthen his mind, and his fancy to charm, 
 Without making his heart grow impure or less warm. 
 
i 4 AMABEL. 
 
 3- 
 Much out-of-door work had developed his form 
 To that of an athlete, and in his brown face 
 Were beauty and power and truth, while the grace 
 Of his movements spoke aught but the country-bred lad. 
 In his eyes were calm light and the glare of the storm, — 
 That shone in good moments and this flashed in bad* 
 
 IV. 
 1. 
 
 How could these two young people meet 
 
 And not be moved by love ? 
 Doth not bright Cupid wait above 
 
 For such occasions sweet ? 
 Though he be blind, his arrow flies 
 Straight to the mark for which he tries. 
 
 2. 
 It seems to me an angel's song 
 Must bear the hidden shaft along ; 
 For, like blest music's grandest strain, 
 Love rends the heart with sweetest pain, — 
 A pain that is excess of joy — 
 Pure bliss without alloy. 
 
 3- 
 But, Cupid, thou shouldst leave a sprite 
 To guard the wounded heart ; 
 
AMABEL. 15 
 
 For thou no sooner dost depart 
 Than cometh, like a blight, 
 Envy, — 
 Then he 
 Ushers Slander ; 
 While bitter Pain 
 Will here again 
 Slow meander. 
 
 V. 
 
 I. 
 
 A better-hearted man than young Jack Dent 
 Ne'er drew a trigger nor a sappling bent. 
 A handsome, joyous youth, with ne'er a care 
 For what the morrow held, his jaunty air 
 Won many hearts among the maids around ; 
 And where was heard a flute or fiddle's sound 
 Young Jack was sure to be, and his bright glance 
 Shone at each party, husking-bee and dance. 
 
 2. 
 In feats of strength he was acknowledged chief 
 Of all the country round ; and the belief 
 That he had help from Satan gained much ground 
 Through his wild acts; and yet the dames who frowned 
 Admired Jack, and heartily wished that they 
 Had boys so kind and bluff and strong and gay ; 
 
1 6 AMABEL. 
 
 For he was ever ready, heart and hand, 
 To cheer the ill, and by the weak to stand. 
 
 VI. 
 I. 
 Of all the maidens of the vale, 
 Proud Edith Keen the most pleased Jack, — 
 A maid with hair and eyes jet black, 
 And haughty face, as lilies pale, — 
 And she loved him, and oft by night 
 They met in groves, and 'neath the light 
 Of paly stars they breathed their vows, 
 While love sang in o'erhanging boughs. 
 
 2. 
 But Edith went to school away, 
 And though she told poor Jack that she 
 Could never change, he felt as he 
 Had lost her ever and for aye ; 
 But when a dainty letter came 
 With vows of love, he felt the flame 
 Of hope once more within him rise, 
 And flashed again his merry eyes. 
 
 VII. 
 
 i. 
 And Edith really did prove true 
 To Jack, and she returned one Spring 
 
AMABEL. 17 
 
 With longing in her heart 
 To fall into his arms anew, 
 Unto his manly form to cling, 
 
 And never from him part. 
 
 2. 
 When JacK and Edith met alone, 
 Her greeting was so warm that he 
 
 Forgot the lonely past ; 
 Her lowing kisses would atone 
 For thrice the absence, and now she 
 
 Was his alone at last. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 1. 
 
 How is it that learning which strengthens the mind 
 
 Can make the heart cold to all natural worth ? 
 
 Can make it to worth without knowledge grow blind ? 
 
 Ah ! surely for what learning gives us a dearth 
 
 Of love oft is felt in the heart, to make room 
 
 For Knowledge to sit on pure Nature's sealed tomb. 
 
 2. 
 There are persons whom learning can not make grow- 
 cold ) 
 Or impure ; but when Pride has a home in the heart, 
 A draught from the fountain of Knowledge will mold 
 
1 8 AMABEL. 
 
 Its core to a state in which nothing but Art 
 
 Can impress it ; and Nature will fly from the place, 
 
 Which is cold as the smile on a hypocrite's face. 
 
 3- 
 There are hearts which have room for both learning 
 
 and love, — 
 There are hearts which have room for all good things 
 
 and chaste ; 
 There are hearts which are moved by the grand skies 
 
 above, 
 By the smallest of flowers, and old ocean's wild waste; — 
 But vanity ne'er in their chambers had place ; 
 They can not hold pride, nor aught evil embrace. 
 
 4- 
 The three years she spent at a large boarding-school, 
 Among maids of society's hard upper-crust, 
 Made Edith's proud heart grow perceptibly cool 
 To true worth ; and Jack's boisterous greeting seemed 
 A trifle too vulgar to suit the high tone [just 
 
 Of a mind which in Madame Duran's set had shone. 
 
 5- 
 And after the first fervid greetings were o'er, 
 She could not help thinking poor Jack sadly changed; 
 — When in truth 'twas her heart that was changed ; — 
 but she bore 
 
AMABEL. 19 
 
 With his bearish caresses, while slowly there ranged 
 O'er her soul both disgust and repugnance that she 
 Could have given her love to a boor such as he. 
 
 IX. 
 1. 
 Alas for manly Jack ! 
 It did not take him long to see 
 The change in Edith. Bitterly 
 The fearful truth came o'er his heart, 
 And mute he watched her love depart — 
 Ne'er to come back. 
 
 2. 
 And now three weeks were flown 
 Since he had met her last, and he 
 Felt certain that she purposely 
 Avoided him ; and dire despair 
 Seized on his heart ; but he would ne'er 
 Deign to make moan. 
 
 3- 
 But he the cause would know 
 Of her behavior, and the one 
 Who stole her love away from him, 
 Should feel his vengeance, though the sun 
 To hide him should its lustre dim 
 And cease to glow. 
 
20 AMABEL. 
 
 X. 
 
 i. 
 
 'Twas after many weary days 
 Of waiting, that at last, one eve, 
 He met false Edith in a grove ; — 
 He met her in the winding ways 
 Where often they had strolled to breathe 
 The pledges of undying love, — 
 To breathe their love so soft and low 
 That nothing save the roaming wind, 
 And arching boughs above entwined, 
 Might their sweet secret know. 
 
 2. 
 
 How peacefully the valley lay 
 In slumber, while the river sang 
 A lullaby, and e'en the boughs 
 Stood still to hear the waters play ! 
 And then, as clear the church bell rang 
 With that blest music which endows 
 The faltering soul with stronger hope, 
 A gentle peace came down the slope 
 Of silent hills, but could not part 
 The anguish from Jack's tortured heart. 
 
 3- 
 With all the calm he could assume, 
 He questioned her until he got 
 
AMABEL. 21 
 
 Confession from her that her love 
 
 For him was flown. The awful gloom 
 
 Which clothed his face seemed passion brought 
 
 From deepest hell*. — The birds above 
 
 Flew from the trees, as if in fear 
 
 Of that black storm which raged beneath ; 
 
 And Edith's face grew pale as death, 
 
 With dread of what she knew was near. 
 
 In those low, hissing tones which mark 
 The near approach of hurricane, 
 The storm commenced : — " Oh, false as hell 
 You who have made the whole earth dark 
 For me, and given ceaseless pain 
 Unto my heart, — you knew full well 
 My love for you, and well you knew 
 What loss of your love meant to me ! 
 And now, by heaven ! I swear to you 
 That you shall ne'er the morrow see 
 Unless you name the man who stole 
 Your love from me ! His name, I say ! 
 Or, though perdition seize my soul, 
 You ne'er shall see another day !" 
 
 5- 
 
 He paused, — low moans of mortal fear 
 Were all that smote his waiting ear. 
 
22 AMABEL. 
 
 He gazed, — the pallor of her face 
 
 Made him recoil and touched his heart, 
 
 And instantly he changed his tone 
 
 To that of pity ; ne'er a trace 
 
 Of rage remained, and love alone 
 
 Was in the words with which he sought 
 
 To calm her fears. The passion wrought 
 
 Within him, now caused tears to start, 
 
 And, without utterance of a word, 
 
 He threw himself upon the sward, 
 
 And only he and Edith heard 
 
 The sobs which floated heavenward, — 
 
 The awful sobs which caused the tears 
 
 To drive away weak Edith's fears, 
 
 And brought her to her knees to calm 
 
 His agony, with words of balm, 
 
 And clasp him in a warm embrace, 
 
 And shower kisses on his face. 
 
 6. 
 
 When he had overcome his woe, 
 She told him no one had her love ; 
 And with the pretty female art 
 She had, she strove to let him know 
 Her reason for this change of heart, 
 In gentle terms which could not move 
 His vanity. She said that she 
 
AMABEL. 23 
 
 Could never really love another, 
 
 And she would love him " as a brother." 
 
 And Jack was sorry for his wrath, 
 
 And promised that he'd ever be 
 
 Her slave ; and slowly up the path, 
 
 Hand clasped in hand, they took their way 
 
 To where the solemn mountain lay. 
 
 7- 
 And being come unto its base, 
 They saw the gentle Amabel 
 Held close in Lionel's embrace, 
 That happy look upon her face 
 Whose inspiration Love can tell, — 
 That happy look which glows wittffire 
 Prometheus stole for us from heaven, — 
 The soul-and-mind-absorbing fire 
 Which only to pure hearts is given. 
 
 8. 
 The startled lovers sprang apart 
 When, purposely, Jack made a noise ; 
 But when they saw 'twas but a pair 
 Of other mortals wed in heart, — 
 As they supposed, — the frightened air 
 Fled from them, and, with downcast eyes, 
 They stood as though ashamed to speak ; 
 But Jack soon put them at their ease ; 
 
24 AMABEL. 
 
 And though the twain seemed very meek, 
 Their joyous shouts pealed through the trees 
 When he trolled forth a merry song, 
 Nonsensical as it was long. 
 
 After a short time spent in chat, 
 The couples parted. Lionel 
 Accompanied sweet Amabel 
 Up the steep mount to where her home 
 Stood dark against earth's jeweled dome ; 
 And Jack and Edith crossed the flat 
 To where the latter lived, and there 
 They parted, with a warm embrace ; 
 But sorrow still lurked in Jack's face, 
 While Edith's wore a studious air. 
 
 XL 
 
 O Hope ! thy dews are sweeter than the flow 
 Of Lethe's turbid stream, which does not drown 
 The senses, but can only numb our pain ; 
 For Misery still wails his howlings down 
 Sleep's shadowy vales, and in dread dreams again 
 Despair will o'er the wretch his meshes throw. 
 
AMABEL. 25 
 
 2. 
 There is no full unconsciousness for man 
 On this side of the grave. Despair still holds 
 The hopeless wretch although he be asleep ; 
 But when Hope lives in the heart, she softly folds 
 The sleeper in sweet dreams which from him ban 
 All forms of pain, and angel anthems sweep 
 Adown the heaven and through his slumbers creep. 
 
 3- 
 
 Hale Hope flew to the heart of Jack once more, 
 And stirred her downy wings within his breast 
 So lightly that dim visions broke his rest ; 
 But they were sweet and brought him sights of blest 
 And holy wedded life ; then angels bore 
 Himself and Edith through heaven's azure floor. 
 Thus blest with peaceful visions through the night, 
 He almost cursed Aurora for her light ; 
 But Hope still tarried in his waking hours, 
 Though Night stole many of her fairest flowers. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But different far were Edith's long night hours : — 
 Ambition bred within her grosser sins, — 
 Ambition strong, who dwells in poisonous bowers, 
 Must pass through hell ere he his heaven wins, — 
 And she lay plotting through the silent night 
 
26 AMABEL. 
 
 How best to win the love of Lionel, 
 
 Who now seemed chief of men within her sight ; 
 
 While for the beauteous, innocent Amabel 
 
 She felt a hate as deep as it was wrong, — 
 
 A hate which made her erst weak nature strong 
 
 To do the devil's work, and do it well. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ah, sweet the parting of that gentle pair 
 Who took their way far up the gloomy mount ! 
 The maid whose violet eyes were as a fount 
 Of love perpetual and whose glistening hair 
 Clung round her lover as a Cupid-snare, 
 Was lying in his arms ; and when he kissed 
 The dewy lips, a faint, suspicious mist 
 Rose in her eyes, w r hile on her neck and face 
 A loving crimson took its willing place. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 i. 
 When at the trysting time of eve 
 
 The youth confesses love, 
 Though swift the maiden's bosom heave 
 
 And glad tears spring above, — 
 Though every echo of her heart 
 
 Respond unto his own, — 
 
AMABEL. 27 
 
 The blood into her face will dart, 
 As if she wrong had done. 
 
 2. 
 On balmy days of early June 
 
 When breezes softly sing 
 A sweet and yet a solemn tune, 
 
 In memory of the Spring, — 
 The youthful rosebud leans to kiss 
 
 The lily, in her place ; 
 But though she love him, and 'tis bliss, 
 
 His color tints her face. 
 
 ) 
 
 3- 
 When soft the breezes drop the dew 
 
 Into the murmuring streams, 
 And Dian comes with charms to woo 
 
 Old Tellus to his dreams ; 
 Though pure and chaste may be the glance 
 
 She casts upon his bed, — 
 And though tfye streamlets joyous dance, — 
 
 Meek Hesper blushes red. 
 
 4- 
 Ah ! thus the passion chaste to own 
 
 Can put to blush the maid; 
 The lily's sweetest scent is blown 
 
 Beneath the rosebud's shade ; 
 
28 
 
 AMABEL. 
 
 And Amabel's pure, joyous heart 
 
 Sent color to her face : 
 Pure nature far surpasses art 
 
 In beauty's every grace. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The lingering parting o'er, though loth to go, 
 The youth departed for the vale below. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 When mellow Autumn drove the sap 
 Of sighing trees into the fruits, 
 To make them meet to deck earth's lap, — 
 When fields put on their yellow suits, 
 To celebrate the harvest time, — 
 When from surrounding hills sublime 
 An incense sweet arose to heaven, 
 And, from the mother-branches riven, 
 The first sere leaves fell to the earth, 
 From thence to rise in a new birth, — 
 The fair and gentle Amabel 
 Lay weeping 'neath a broad oak's shade,- 
 The wondrous fair and lovely maid 
 Lay 'neath a tree where Lionel 
 Had often held her to his heart, — 
 Lay 'neath a tree which seemed a part 
 Of her dear love, for it had heard 
 Full many a fond and passionate word 
 Spoke 'neath its branches, and each sigh 
 Which floated softly to the sky, 
 29 
 
30 
 
 AMABEL. 
 
 Had gently kissed its listening leaves ; 
 But now the sighs which reached its leaves 
 Were such as Sorrow, when she grieves 
 In loneliest hours, might send above 
 For lost or unrequited love. 
 
 2. 
 
 And now the lovely Amabel 
 
 Has sobbed herself asleep. 
 
 The amorous breezes creep 
 Around that form they love so well. 
 Her hair — her dark but sparkling hair — 
 Is floating o'er her btfsom fair ; 
 One frolicsome and wanton tress — 
 One lovely tress — has risen now 
 
 To greet the playful wind, — 
 To greet the wind which stops to bow 
 To charms no tongue can e'er express ; 
 But quick returns to its dear place 
 Upon her pure, velutinous face, — 
 That face in which each lightest line — 
 In which each bright, determinate sign — 
 
 Reveals the perfect mind. 
 
 3- 
 The ancient oak its boughs doth part 
 To let the sunbeams through,— 
 To let the warm rays through 
 
AMABEL. 3 1 
 
 To nestle near her wounded heart, 
 
 As heaven's pearly dew- 
 Will seek the drooping lily's heart, 
 And only from its breast depart 
 
 When drawn to heaven above 
 
 By Sol's supernal love. 
 
 4- 
 Oh, but her sad and tear-stained face 
 
 Would move a Nero's heart ! 
 Seraphs might leave their heavenly place 
 
 And to her soul impart 
 Their balms ; for sure her looks would melt 
 The hardest heart that ever dwelt 
 
 Within the breast of man ■ 
 
 Since first the world began ! 
 
 5- 
 Ah, yes ! the angels surely stood 
 
 Around her as she lay, 
 To guard her saddened maidenhood 
 
 And drive pale Pain away ; 
 
 For, see ! a faint smile gleams 
 Upon her pure and holy face, 
 As though Love's gentle, soothing grace 
 
 Had blest her in her dreams ! 
 
32 
 
 AMABEL. 
 
 II. 
 
 i. 
 
 Why should that gentle maiden weep ? 
 What meant those sobs, as strong and deep 
 
 As sorrow for the dead ? 
 Why should cold Misery come down 
 And drop his agonizing crown 
 
 Upon her beauteous head ? 
 Ah, Slander, of base fiends the king, 
 Had thrown the shadow of his wing 
 
 Upon the lovely maid 
 
 Who wept beneath the shade ! 
 
 2. 
 
 With modest looks, and pitying tone, 
 
 The wk:ked Edith filled the mind 
 
 Of Lionel with basest lies 
 
 That Amabel's love for him was flown ; 
 
 And he, the jealous youth and blind, 
 
 Ne'er read the falsehood in her eyes, 
 
 But with a rash and furious haste 
 
 He flew to lovely Amabel 
 
 And said that she was false to him. 
 
 As when far over distant fell 
 
 The dying daylight seems to waste 
 
 Into the darkening heavens dim, 
 
 The happy light fled from her face 
 
 And left sore Sorrow in its place. 
 
AMABEL 33 
 
 3- 
 She could not ope her lips to speak : 
 The awful horror seemed to wreak , 
 
 A spell upon her : sorrowful eyes 
 Alone rebuked the wicked lies. 
 
 4- 
 
 The youth took silence for assent, 
 And frenzy, born of jealousy, 
 New fire to his anger lent : 
 " Vile girl, through all your tricks I see ! 
 You have but played the flirt with me, 
 While you have loved Jack Dent ! " 
 
 5. 
 The maiden now found voice to speak : 
 " Love Jack ? poor Jack ? " she queried low ; — 
 For she had heard, from Jack's own lips, 
 The story of false Edith's freak ; 
 How she had dealt the cruel blow 
 Which threw his hopes in dark eclipse ; 
 And pity filled her tender heart, 
 And caused compassionate tears to start ; — 
 But ere she could the charge deny, 
 The angry and mistaken youth 
 Heaped terms of bitter obloquy 
 Upon her head, — such terms, in truth, 
 
34 AMABEL. 
 
 As called an angry blush of shame 
 Into her face, — then, with the name 
 Of harlot ringing through the air, 
 He turned and left her standing there, 
 To wrestle with Despair. 
 
 III. 
 
 What wonder that the stricken maid 
 Lay weeping on the ground, — 
 Lay sobbing on the ground 
 
 Beneath the broad oak's sheltering shade ? 
 What wonder that she found 
 
 Sweet solace in the dreams that strayed, 
 Like music, through her sleep ? 
 The blessed angels keep 
 
 Their vigils o'er pure souls and lone, 
 
 Until they claim them as their own. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The lovely maid awakes with sighs, 
 To feel that bitter pain 
 Steal through her heart again ; 
 
 And swiftly in her azure eyes 
 
 The shades of woe again arise. 
 
 Called harlot ! she ! by Lionel ! 
 
 By him, the youth she loved so well ! 
 
AMABEL. 35 
 
 No ! no ! she did but dream ! he ne'er 
 
 Could deem her false to him ! 
 
 But gathering waters dim 
 Her sight, and on the startled air 
 There rings a shriek of wild despair. 
 — While echoes yet reply around, 
 She sinks, unconscious, to the ground. 
 
 V. 
 
 That piercing shriek has reached the ear 
 Of one who roams in sorrow near. 
 'Tis Jack, and instantly he flies 
 To where the maid unconscious lies ; 
 Then, with a touch as light as though 
 A mother raised her first-born child, 
 He bears her where a streamlet wild 
 
 Is sparkling in its flow, 
 And bathes her brow till Consciousness 
 Returns — and fetches dire Distress. 
 
 Moved by the sight of her wild woe, 
 Jack's. tender and affectionate heart 
 Caused tears of sympathy to start ; — 
 Caused tears of sympathy to flow 
 Adown his wasted face ; — 
 
3 6 AMABEL. 
 
 For how could he but trace 
 Her tears to unrequited love 
 When his own tortured heart still strove 
 With it? Ah, our own griefs arise, 
 Strong-mirrored, in another's eyes ! 
 
 3- 
 
 With that control of self which he 
 Had lately learned, he hurriedly 
 Forced back the tears into his heart ; 
 And slowly leading Amabel 
 Toward her home, he begged that she 
 
 Would all her troubles tell, 
 So might he yet remove the dart 
 Which rankled in her quivering heart, 
 
 And all might yet be well. 
 
 VI. 
 
 With many tears, and many sighs, 
 Sweet Amabel began the tale 
 Of that sad scene with Lionel ; 
 But wild the light within her eyes, 
 Her face than Death's was far more pale, 
 -When she essayed the part to tell 
 Where Lionel had said her love 
 .Was given to Jack ; and through the grove 
 Her voice rang like Hope's dying shriek 
 
AMABEL. 37 
 
 When she pronounced the awful word 
 
 Which lately she had heard 
 Fall from the lips of Lionel, — 
 
 The word which seemed to wreak 
 Upon her every sense a spell, 
 Excepting that it left with her 
 
 That feeling of despair, — 
 
 The poison of despair, 
 Which makes all things of lovely hue 
 
 Seem dull to our changed view. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I. 
 
 But look upon the face of Jack ! 
 
 And look within his eyes ! 
 What memories does her tale bring back? 
 
 There seemeth to arise 
 Despair, Hate, Murder, in his face, 
 While from her long-accustomed place — 
 
 His eyes — Love takes her flight, 
 As frighted by their wicked light. 
 
 2. 
 
 Full many a scene comes back to him, 
 Which formerly was dark and dim ; 
 And now upon those scenes a light 
 
38 AMABEL. 
 
 Is shed, which makes their meaning plain, 
 Yet makes his night but darker night, — 
 Intensifies his pain. 
 
 3- 
 It oft had seemed to him, of late, 
 That Lionel had transferred his love 
 To Edith, and a bitter hate 
 
 He felt for that poor youth ; 
 But this deduction to disprove, — 
 To show him its untruth, — 
 He needed but to note the love 
 Between the gentle pair, 
 Young Lionel 
 And Amabel, 
 The steadfast and the fair. 
 
 4- 
 He oft had marked the subtle art 
 With which false Edith played the part 
 Of dearest friend to Lionel ; — 
 He oft had seen the loving light 
 Which sprang into her cold black eye 
 Whenever Lionel was nigh, — 
 Whenever stood within her sight 
 The lover of young Amabel ; — 
 But never in the open face 
 Of Lionel had been a trace 
 
AMABEL. 39 
 
 Of aught to show return of love ; 
 Else — by the powers above ! 
 Immediate death had been his doom, — 
 His bed of love had been a tomb ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! when the heart has hoped 'gainst hope, — 
 
 When the sad mind doth darkly grope 
 
 For light, for many weary days, — 
 
 How from the soul is dashed all good 
 
 And gentle feelings, — how the brood 
 
 Of hell dispels the last dim rays 
 
 Of holy light, — when, at one thrust, 
 
 The angel Hope is turned to dust, 
 
 And all her healing flowers 
 Are lost in the departed hours ! 
 
 IX. 
 I. 
 
 The woeful tale of Amabel 
 
 Has turned Jack's erstwhile tender heart 
 
 Into a veritable hell 
 
 Of violent passions. Demons dart 
 
 The deadly shafts of jealousy — 
 
 The maddening spears of jealousy — 
 
 Into his soul ; and one may trace . 
 
40 AMABEL. 
 
 The arch-fiend's image in his face, 
 So frightful its intensity. 
 
 2. 
 Too well he sees through Edith's plot 
 To win the love of Lionel 
 By slandering sweet Amabel ; — 
 Too well to him the truth is brought 
 That all her love for him is flown, — 
 Transferred unto another one, — 
 Given to another one unsought, — 
 And easy 'tis for fiends to start 
 Mad thoughts of murder in his heart. 
 
 3- 
 What though no thought of love is given 
 To Edith by stanch Lionel ? 
 fc Has not his sorrowing heart been riven 
 By keener bolts than imps of hell 
 E'er drove through a forsaken soul ? 
 Might not he now have reached the goal 
 For which he struggled long and well, 
 But that the face of Lionel 
 
 Stood 'twixt his love and him, 
 And made his own rough beauty dim ? 
 
 4- 
 Yes ! Lionel's accursed face 
 Has filled the mirror of that heart 
 
AMABEL. 41 
 
 Which long had held his own ; 
 
 But, ere the day be flown, 
 The hand of Azrael shall start 
 The worm of Death into that heart ;— 
 The hand of Azrael shall place 
 The dews of Death upon that face. 
 
 5- 
 " I'll murder both ! " he hoarsely cries ; 
 Then turns, and down the mountain speeds. 
 " Stop, Jack ! " — the furious youth complies ; 
 ''Come back ! "—and this command he heeds 
 For there is something in the tone 
 Of Amabel, he must obey : 
 That voice is surely not her own ! 
 Is this the gentle maid who lay 
 Beneath the oak— a stricken dove 
 That lightest touch of man might move ? 
 
 6. 
 
 That rounded, yet still girlish, form, 
 Just ripening to the glowing charm 
 
 Of full-blown womanhood, 
 Seems as an empress of the wood ; 
 And cowed before its majesty, 
 The youth stands with a downcast eye. 
 
42 AMABEL. 
 
 7- 
 " You'll murder whom ? " The humbled youth 
 Bursts into tears, and all the truth 
 Is sobbed into her listening ears ; 
 And thus the horrified maiden hears 
 How one of her own sex can be 
 Fallen to the use of calumny, 
 To further her own wicked ends, 
 Even though she wound the chief of friends. 
 
 X. 
 
 Still calmly speaking, Amabel 
 Endeavored to convince poor Jack 
 That he had sought a wicked course ; 
 But though she reasoned long and well, 
 His face grew wildly stern and black, 
 While in his sunken eyes the force 
 Of savageness which still remains 
 
 In every human heart, 
 
 Did^yet more fiercely dart 
 Its fires, as flash heaven's thunder flames. 
 
 XL 
 
 As when a rocket loses force, 
 And, stayed in its supernal course, 
 
 Drops slowly toward the earth, — 
 So Amabel, no more upheld 
 
AMABEL. 43 
 
 By wild excitement, shuddering sank 
 
 Upon a slightly rising bank 
 
 Of moss, and her sad heart gave birth 
 
 To bitter tears which welled 
 
 From out her shadowed eyes, 
 As rain drops fall from darkened skies. 
 
 XII. 
 
 O woman's tears ! in your sad flow 
 
 Ye move all human hearts ! 
 Quintessence of all earthly woe ! 
 
 Your purity imparts 
 To souls of men its own blest hue, 
 And none so hard but yields to you. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 i. 
 
 The tears of sorrowing Amabel 
 Could not be long withstood by Jack : 
 The healing drops will not stay back, 
 But flowing down his face, compel 
 Despair, Hate, Murder to take flight ; 
 And in his darksome eyes the light 
 
 Of yore once more appears, 
 
 Soft-shining through his tears. 
 
44 AMABEL. 
 
 2. 
 
 In tones as loving and as sweet 
 As those with which the breezes greet 
 The summer morn, and swear their love 
 By Sol supremely grand above, — 
 
 He strove to soothe her pain : 
 He swore by his dead parents' love 
 (The which he felt sent from above, 
 Now he was once himself again) 
 That Lionel should hear the truth, 
 And that the true but jealous youth 
 
 Should soon be hers again ; — 
 He swore that naught should change his mind ; 
 Not darkened looks ; not words unkind ; 
 
 No ! even not a blow ! 
 
 The youth the truth should know 
 
 Though Edith — falsest maid ! — 
 Were present and heard all he said. 
 
 3- 
 And thus the youth soon calmed her fears, 
 
 And stayed that flood of tears ; 
 
 And being near her home, 
 He left her, promising to come 
 
 When in the starry sky 
 
 Chaste Dian (queen on high ) 
 
 Paused o'er the garden gate 
 
AMABEL. 45 
 
 (As she was wont to do, 
 
 To watch the lovers true, 
 
 Young Lionel 
 
 And Amabel); 
 
 Then he would his success relate. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 i. 
 When Jack had reached the river side, 
 Among the willows he descried 
 
 The form of Lionel. 
 That youth was pacing to and fro, 
 And groans of bitter, bitter woe 
 
 Upon the listener fell. 
 
 2. 
 An instant after face to face 
 The young men stood. The hand of Jack 
 Was proffered. Lionel pushed it back, 
 And in his voice was not a trace 
 Of his deep anguish when he broke 
 The silence. These the words he spoke : 
 " You would shake hands, you hypocrite ! 
 I in your smirking face would spit 
 Were you not such a dirty dog, — 
 Were you else than a treacherous dog ! 
 You stole the heart of her I love, 
 
46 AMABEL. 
 
 And soon within this grove 
 
 One of us shall lie ! 
 You have, I see, your hunting knife, 
 And I have mine : defend your life ; 
 
 For one, or both, shall die 
 
 Ere evening dims the sky ! " 
 
 XV. 
 
 i. 
 
 The form of Jack seems to dilate 
 And quiver, and the demon Hate 
 Once more arises in his eyes ; 
 Bu thoughts of sorrowing Amabel 
 
 Can all his rage dispel. 
 Ah ! Sin before Devotion flies, 
 And memory of pure Amabel 
 
 Has chased Hate from his eyes. 
 
 How wondrous calm and sweet his tone 
 How purely bright his brown eyes shone ! 
 When he commenced : u Well, be it so ; 
 But I would pray for friend and foe, 
 And for myself, before my knife 
 Is turned against another's life. 
 I pray that Heaven may forgive— 
 Or if you die or if you live — 
 
AMABEL. 47 
 
 Your wrong to gentle Amabel 
 Who loves you yet, and loves you well, — 
 The wounded maid whom late I found 
 Unconscious on a mossy mound, — 
 The stricken maid to whom I swore 
 That, ere the shadowed heavens wore 
 The customed jewels of the night, 
 And Dian gave to earth her light, 
 
 You all the truth should know, 
 Though you should greet me with a blow. 
 I pray unto the Lord of Heaven 
 
 That Edith be forgiven 
 For telling you that Amabel 
 Loves me ; for unto you alone 
 Is given the love of that sad one, — 
 Yes ! yet she loves you, Lionel. 
 I pray that strength be given to me 
 To bear my sorrow patiently ; 
 For, spite of all her wickedness, 
 I can not love my Edith less ! 
 Now, Lionel, I have my knife, 
 And am prepared to fight for life." 
 
 3- 
 Impatience marked young Lionel 
 
 When Jack began to speak ; 
 But a deep crimson flushed his cheek, 
 
48 AMABEL. 
 
 And though he strove he could not speak, 
 When told the woe of Amabel. 
 With supplicating hands upheld 
 He crouched upon the ground when Jack 
 Ceased speaking, and his bosom swelled 
 With mingled passions ; all the black 
 And poisonous clouds of jealousy 
 Were swept from off his heart, and he 
 Once more could see with vision clear. 
 Low prayers for pardon reached the ear 
 Of Jack ; then Lionel's deep distress 
 Was lost in blest unconsciousness. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 i. 
 
 'Twas near an hour ere Lionel 
 
 Recovered. — Jack worked long and well 
 
 To bring him back to consciousness, 
 
 And as he worked he musing fell : 
 
 " Poor boy, the weight of his distress 
 
 Caused him to faint ; and some there be 
 
 Who to a lack of manliness 
 
 Would charge the weakness, but, for me, 
 
 I've ever held the manliest heart 
 
 Is first to act a woman's part 
 
 When there is cause for real distress. 
 
AMABEL. 49 
 
 A hero never rose to bless 
 The people with his mighty deeds 
 And sow the fast- increasing seeds 
 Of future good to all mankind 
 
 Through bloody feats of war, 
 But tears would rise his eyes to blind 
 
 And Pain would rise to scar 
 His heart when he beheld distress. 
 Who can term this unmanliness ? " 
 
 2. 
 
 With consciousness came memory, 
 
 And Lionel was sorely grieved 
 
 To think that he could have believed 
 
 In Amabel's infidelity ; 
 
 But when Jack told him that his Love 
 
 Would meet them at the garden gate 
 
 When Dian rode the heaven above 
 
 (Meek Dian, chaste, sedate), 
 His grief grew less, and on Jack's head 
 He called the blessings of high heaven, — 
 He prayed the love of Edith, fled, 
 Might soon again to Jack be given. 
 
 XVII. 
 With promises to meet when Night 
 
 Into the sky should come, 
 
 The young men started home, 
 Along the Susquehanna bright. 
 
5 o AMABEL. 
 
 XVIII. 
 i. 
 
 Night ! what robes you wear when in this vale 
 You pause to rest! Sometimes the moonbeams pale 
 Will clothe your form in heaven's silvery sheen, 
 As light as that with which the chaste stars screen 
 Their boudoirs, when they lay them down to rest, 
 Wrapping a gauzy cloud about each breast, 
 Sometimes you put your garb of mourning on, 
 And moan aloud ; for he, the envious Sun, 
 Has drunk the life-blood of this lovely vale, 
 And left it parched and fainting ; then your wail 
 Is changed to tears which so revive the earth 
 
 That it can laugh at peeping Sol when morning springs 
 to birth. 
 
 2. 
 But oh ! how gently beautiful that night 
 When Jack and Lionel started up the height 
 Toward Amabel's home ! The trees beside the stream 
 Sent up to Dian soft, sweet songs^of praise 
 That she once more permitted them to gaze 
 Upon their shadows, mirrored in the breast 
 Of lovely Susquehanna. A stray beam, 
 From heaven, found the mocking bird's lone nest ; 
 And, wakened from his happy evening dream, 
 
 He poured such melody as called an answer from the 
 blest. 
 
AMABEL. 5 \ 
 
 XIX 
 
 "Who told you, Jack," asked Lionel, 
 " That Edith taught me to believe 
 
 That you loved Amabel ? " 
 "Ah ! Lionel, we can't deceive 
 Ourselves, however much we try ; 
 And in the light of Edith's eye 
 A something stood which told to me 
 That she loved you ; and I could see 
 The author of that calumny 
 In her. Now, Lionel, tell me, 
 Who told you I had lost the love 
 Of Edith ? " " She herself it was ; 
 And though I praised you far above 
 All men I know, I could not move 
 Her heart, nor learn of her the cause 
 Of her behavior ; but this morn 
 She told me you loved Amabel, — 
 She said you had left her all forlorn, 
 And that within her breast was born 
 A love for me. Oh ! then a hell 
 Of hate for you sprang in my breast. 
 I swore that, if the tale were true, 
 Nor night nor day should give me rest 
 
52 AMABEL. 
 
 Till I had squared accounts with you. 
 Forgive me, Jack ; my jealousy 
 A madman made of me ! " 
 
 2. 
 
 " Console yourself," was Jack's reply ; 
 " For I felt that same hate for you. 
 I swore that you and Edith should die ; 
 And but for Amabel brave and true 
 
 I'd have kept that unholy vow. 
 Your Amabel knew all the tale 
 Of Edith's sudden change toward me, 
 And she alone in all this vale 
 Has heard my whole life-history ; 
 
 But you shall hear it now. 
 
 3- 
 " When but a child, my parents died, 
 And lone and penniless I was left 
 To make my way against the tide 
 Of prejudice which still is felt 
 Toward the orphan. But, bereft 
 Of all my kin, I still had left 
 My father's heart within my breast. 
 Beside my mother's grave I knelt 
 And swore that I would never rest 
 Till I had made myself a home ; 
 
AMABEL. 53 
 
 And that, should good or evil come, 
 I so would shape my life that I 
 Should meet her in her home on high. 
 
 " I need not go into details 
 And tell you all my ups and downs. 
 You know the rewarding spirit sails 
 As zigzag as a school-boy's kite, 
 And oft when all seems lost in night, 
 Our greatest hope she crowns. 
 
 " By weary years of toil I gained 
 
 A little home within this vale ; 
 
 And then my fortunes seemed to sail 
 
 As straight for heaven as soars the lark, 
 
 For in a short time I attained 
 
 The broadest farm for miles around ; 
 
 And then, as Heaven chose to mark 
 
 Me for all good things of this world, 
 
 The love of Edith crowned 
 My bliss, and pure Affection curled 
 Around the arteries of my heart, 
 And Peace became of life a part. 
 
54 AMABEL. 
 
 6. 
 " You know the rest. If I could die 
 To-night, perhaps the world on high 
 Would grant its peace to my sad soul 
 
 Through which the dirges roll — 
 Through which my weary pulse doth toll — 
 
 'Sorrow shall be thy dole.' " 
 
 7- 
 Lionel tried, but all in vain, 
 To comfort Jack. The bitter pain 
 Of unrequited love can be 
 
 By time alone removed. 
 
 Though he who once has loved 
 Must love for an eternity, 
 
 Yet time will ease his pain, 
 Though his sad heart ne'er joy again. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The young men, during their conversation, stood 
 Within the shadow of a little wood 
 Which marked the confines of a grassy space, 
 So wrapped in thought that they had failed to see 
 The rapid change that came o'er the heaven's face. 
 But now the storm grows in intensity, 
 
AMABEL. 55 
 
 And from the sky is blotted the last trace 
 Of Dian, — gone the beauty and the grace 
 Of the fair queen of love. The dark storm king 
 Is now commander of the hosts on high, 
 And fiery gleams dart from his angry eye, 
 Blasting great trees which, toppling to the ground, 
 Add but small volume to the appalling sound 
 Made by the clashing thunder clouds. For hours 
 The battle wages ; then the struggling powers 
 Retire, and Dian again is marshaling 
 Her shining train in orderly array, 
 And once again the earth is smiling 'neath her sway. 
 
 2. 
 
 Too late the young men saw the gathering storm ! 
 Too late they tried their journey to pursue ! 
 From out the wood they hurry in alarm, 
 Then haste to seek its shelter. Well they knew 
 'Twere folly to attempt to climb the height 
 Unless a friendly heaven should lend its light. 
 Many a man on such a stormy night 
 Had lost his life there ; and the gossips said 
 That on such nights the mount was haunted by its 
 dead. 
 
 3- 
 
 The storm is o'er, and now the eager sight 
 Of both the youths is turned to Dian bright. 
 
56 AMABEL. 
 
 Far in the west the lovely orb, in state, 
 Is traveling — far past the garden gate. 
 Alas ! alas ! that such should be his fate ! 
 But ne'er again the younger youth shall wait 
 To see the lovely moon pause o'er the garden gate. 
 
 4- 
 Though past the hour assigned, the youths decide 
 To journey up the mountain, hoping to find 
 A friendly servant to whom they dare confide 
 The object of their call. The moon is kind 
 And lends her brightest light. They reach the gate 
 And pause. — Feels one that he is on the brink of fate ? 
 
 5- 
 They had not long to wait, for from the vale 
 Two servants came, who told a fearful tale 
 Of dangers they had met in their ascent. 
 By one long flash of lightning they had seen 
 A panther crouching but a yard away. 
 The beast saw them and down the mountain went 
 His sinewy body in a copse to screen ; 
 And once a blasted tree was seen to sway 
 And topple toward them, but a kindly wind 
 Had swerved it from their path ; long grasses twined 
 To trip them as they staggered up the height ; 
 And then a smile of Dian gave them light, 
 
AMABEL. 57 
 
 And all was well. — The youths soon made it plain 
 That they had urgent cause to see Amabel, 
 And down the dimly-lighted walnut lane 
 The four men took their way. Who — who can tell 
 The awful scene that met their eyes when they 
 Gazed through an open door into a room 
 Where (clad in white, as shrouded for the tomb) 
 Upon a lounge young Amabel in peaceful slumber lay ? 
 
 XXI. 
 
 When Jack had left young Amabel 
 
 She slowly wandered to her home, 
 
 Assured that he would surely come 
 
 At night, and that the tale he'd tell 
 
 Would be a happy one. She dried 
 
 Her tears, and with a smile she tried 
 
 To hide her recent misery 
 
 From her poor father's watchful eye ; 
 
 But all in vain. — The mother-love 
 
 (Steadfast as are the stars above) 
 
 Can penetrate each deep disguise 
 
 In which the loved one vainly tries 
 
 To hide his pain ; and a loving sire 
 
 Fills the mother's place, should she expire. 
 
58 AMABEL. 
 
 2. 
 
 The old man saw that sorrow keen 
 
 Had touched his Amabel ; 
 But what the cause he could not tell. 
 He tried to reason, but all in vain, 
 For many weary years of pain 
 Had driven reason from his mind; 
 And yet he had an undefined 
 Assurance that a wrong had been 
 
 Done to his Amabel, 
 But what it was he could not tell. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 I. 
 When night was come the eager maid 
 Passed 'neath the waving walnut trees 
 Through which the silvery moonbeams strayed, 
 Whene'er they parted to the breeze. 
 Though long it was to watch and wait 
 Before the moon in regal state 
 Should pause above the garden gate, 
 Yet she preferred to be alone, 
 For in her heart a mystic tone 
 Assured her that she soon should meet 
 Her Lionel. — Ah ! maiden sweet ! 
 Ye soon shall meet, never to part — 
 Joined aye to his your faithful heart. 
 
AMABEL. 59 
 
 2. 
 
 Long— long the maiden watched ; but fate 
 Had so decreed that o'er the gate 
 
 The moon should pass that night 
 
 Hid from her eager sight. 
 The storm came up ; but still she stood 
 And vainly waited, till the rain 
 Came down in torrents ; then again 
 She sought her home, still light of heart, 
 For something whispered that Jack would 
 Come to her home when ceased the storm ; 
 And still another thought would dart 
 Into her mind, her heart to warm : 
 She felt that Jack would with him bring 
 
 Her Lionel — her king. 
 
 " 3- 
 She sought her home, and all in white 
 She clad herself; for would not he, 
 Her Lionel, be there that night ? 
 And would not spotless purity 
 
 Be loveliest to his sight ? 
 Yes ! robed in white she would meet the youth, 
 For long ere this he had learned the truth, 
 And he would say that she was pure 
 
 As was the dress she wore. 
 
60 AMABEL. 
 
 4- 
 Sweet — sweet to her each waking dream ! 
 And when she fell asleep a gleam 
 Of perfect bliss shone in her face, — 
 A gleam from heavenly place. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 1. 
 
 What fearful sight has stayed the blood 
 
 Of the watchers at the door ? 
 They saw the old man bending o'er 
 Young Amabel, and mute they stood 
 To hear an incoherent flood 
 Of passionate terms from his lips pour ; 
 They heard him mutter, " Your pure life 
 Were better freed from earthly strife ; " 
 And then they saw a gleaming knife 
 Descend, and Amabel's pure soul 
 Was flown unto the Mystic Goal, — 
 Was flown into the Great Unknown, 
 To join her mother's round the throne. 
 
 2. 
 An unknown power had seemed to stay 
 The faculties of all the men. 
 Jack was the first to act, and when 
 The old man's arm was raised, he sprang 
 
AMABEL. 6 1 
 
 Forward, and loud his order rang : 
 
 " Hold ! hold ! " but naught but death could sway 
 
 The purpose of that weak old man. 
 
 The murder done, he turned and ran 
 
 Adown the mount, with Lionel 
 
 And Jack in hot pursuit. Their cries 
 
 Of " murder " through the night air fell 
 
 Upon the vale beneath ; and now 
 
 Many a wakened farmer tries 
 
 To stop the old man, but in vain. 
 
 He swiftly flies to where a ledge 
 
 To the fair stream its head doth bow, 
 
 And his poor fevered brain 
 At one deep plunge at last finds rest ; 
 And his soul is gone to Him whose pledge 
 
 Gives peace to each troubled breast. 
 
 3- 
 " We must save her father ! " Lionel cries, 
 And he* bravely plunges in— and dies 
 
 The death of the weak old man. 
 Though Jack and others searched thro' the night, 
 And the stream was dragged by the next day's light 
 
 (The stream that so calmly ran), 
 
 To their gaze was denied a sight 
 Of the forms of the youth and the suicide, 
 
 Gone down to the sea with the tide. 
 
62 AMABEL. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It was a blessed Providence 
 That saved young Lionel the grief 
 He would have felt for Amabel's death. 
 Such sorrows can benumb our sense 
 Of right and wrong, and the belief 
 That none has right to stay the breath 
 Of life by rash act of his own, 
 From sorrowing mind is often gone ; 
 And better 'twas that he should die 
 In vain attempt to save a life 
 Than that he live to grieve and sigh, 
 Or 'gainst himself should turn the knife 
 Which severs life's frail tie. 
 
 XXV. 
 I. 
 
 I saw a babe the day 'twas born to life ; 
 
 I saw it wage a year of useless strife 
 
 Against Consumption — the foul, throttling fiend ! 
 
 And not one moment from its life was gleaned 
 
 Of perfect peace. Its mother could but weep 
 
 To see it suffer in its restless sleep, 
 
 Having no charm to soothe its ceaseless pain. 
 
 She hopes to meet her innocent child again 
 
 In that blest land where earthly strife and woe, 
 
AMABEL. 63 
 
 Or memory of past grief, can never go. 
 
 " The grave — the grave ends all," the atheists say : 
 
 From such assertions I must turn away. 
 
 I knew a maiden pure as heaven's own dew ; 
 No thought of harm came o,er me when to woo 
 A lover came to her. She fell ! she fell 
 Through promises as false as fiends of hell. 
 One morn the Susquehanna's gentle tide 
 Gave to sad friends her corpse — a suicide ! 
 " Oh ! she is gone to hell," some Christians (?) say 
 From such assertions I must turn away. 
 
 3- 
 Surely Amabel was joined to him whose love 
 Was her transcendent joy in this sad world; 
 And he, the suicide, whose wife was hurled 
 Into eternity by murder foul, 
 Was to her joined in that bright world above 
 Where, blest for aye, is winged each loving soul. 
 Though all the world should shout as answer, "Nay!' 
 From such denial I would turn away. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 They buried gentle Amabel 
 Beneath the oak she loved so well. 
 
64 AMABEL. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 She was not evil — Edith Keen — 
 By nature, and the harm she wrought 
 Was swiftly to her own door brought. 
 Before the maples' leaves of green 
 Were all dyed red, a maniac's cell 
 Held her whom Jack had loved so well. 
 The dire result of her deep plot 
 Had preyed upon her contrite heart 
 Till reason from her mind did part ; 
 But never was her sin forgot, 
 And ever till the day she died 
 Two ghostly forms were at her side, — 
 She slept to dream of Lionel, 
 And woke to rave of Amabel. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Some years ago an aged man 
 Was found within the catacombs 
 At old Shawnee. The silent glooms 
 Of these old chambers served to ban 
 A curious world, and here Jack Dent — 
 For he it was — alone had spent 
 Long, weary years. At night he sought 
 The forest, and his woodcraft brought 
 The food that he required to him. 
 
AMABEL. 65 
 
 But now old age began to dim 
 His mind, and so kind friends who yet 
 Remembered him, but long had thought 
 That he was dead, contrived to get 
 Him to a house near by ; and here 
 Death found him. Just before he died, 
 With many a sigh and many a tear, 
 He told the tale I give you here, 
 And asked that he be laid beside 
 The bones of that pure, gentle maid 
 Buried beneath the old oak's shade. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 In summer Wyo's tender maids 
 Oft seek the deep sylvatic shades 
 Of that high mount near Nanticoke ; 
 And 'neath a giant hollow oak 
 
 They find two lowly mounds 
 
 Where the violet abounds, 
 And music from a streamlet near 
 Is wafted to the listening ear ; 
 For here, as ancient settlers tell, 
 Are the graves of Jack and Amabel ; 
 And seated on these mossy mounds 
 
 Where the wild hearts'-ease abounds, 
 The maidens pray the saints above — 
 The maidens pray the King of Heaven — 
 
66 AMABEL. 
 
 That never may their hearts be riven 
 By the pain of unrequited love ; — 
 They pray the happy saints above — 
 They pray the loving King of Heaven- 
 That never may their own love rove 
 From lovers true to whom 'tis given ; 
 And oft a tender tear will drop 
 Upon each azure pansy top,— 
 Upon the violets, blest to dwell 
 On the grave of Gentle Amabel. 
 
 w w m 
 
ORIGINAL DRAFT OF AMABEL. 
 
 An only child of aged sire, 
 
 She dwelt upon the mountain lone 
 
 Which marks Wyoming's western bound. 
 There, like a ball of orange fire, 
 The sun in Summer evening shone, 
 With yellow ether round. 
 
 Oh ! like a being from the skies 
 
 She seemed to me, when first we met ; 
 Though ever tears appeared to stand 
 Within the azure of her eyes, — 
 The luminous orbs I'll ne'er forget 
 Till Azrael grasp my hand. 
 
 With all the ardor of my soul 
 
 I strove to win her maiden love, — 
 The love of one for earth too bright. 
 Ah ! did the song of angels roll 
 
 Adown the heaven, the maid to move, 
 That happy, happy night ? 
 
 Oh ! ever in my heart remains 
 The memory of that joyful time 
 
 When she returned my passionate kiss : 
 
 6 7 
 
68 ORIGINAL DRAFT 
 
 Afar I heard angelic strains 
 
 Whose rhythmic cadences sublime 
 But echoed my heart's bliss. 
 
 'Twas in the June, and flowers sweet 
 
 Gave odors to the gentle wind ; 
 
 Afar the Susquehanna gleamed ; 
 
 Bright Luna sat in wonted seat : 
 
 O peaceful Night, unto my mind 
 
 How beautiful you seemed ! 
 
 Though mine was bliss without alloy, 
 Yet from my eyes the tears would pour,- 
 The happy drops naught could retard, • 
 As oft the waters of pure joy 
 
 Rise in the heart, when conning o'er 
 The rhymes of some old bard. 
 
 Within I felt the eager soul 
 
 Which strove the earthly frame to leave, 
 To fly into the Great Unknown, — 
 To speed unto the Mystic goal, — 
 
 Such nights as this pure souls receive 
 A message from its throne. 
 
 O precious Night ! the angels bright 
 Made you for us to breathe our vows, 
 Else you had not so lovely been 
 
OF AMABEL. 69 
 
 The tender influence of the light 
 
 Which gleamed through overhanging boughs 
 Made earth to heaven akin. 
 
 When mellow Autumn drove the sap 
 Of sighing trees into the fruits, 
 
 To change their hue from green to red, 
 And make them meet to deck earth's lap, — 
 When fields put on their yellow suits, — 
 My love and I were wed. 
 
 O Summer sweet ! O Autumn blest ! 
 Why could you not forever stay ? 
 
 When Winter robed the earth in white 
 My darling rlew to realms of rest, — 
 Sped far from earthly cares away, 
 Beyond the bounds of night. 
 
 Yet oft in that far-distant light 
 
 Which seems beyond the stars to lie, 
 A form ethereal I see,— 
 A form which beckons through the night 
 And bids me check the rising sigh, 
 And gives fresh hope to me. 
 
WINTER CHORUS. 
 
 The chill winds to the night complain ; 
 
 Imprisoned streamlets sigh ; 
 The forests groan, as though in pain, 
 And echoing vales reply : 
 But, safe from cold, 
 Our hearts are bold, 
 With love-light in each eye. 
 
 The shivering moon looks through a cloud, 
 
 With face as pale as woe ; 
 
 The distant hills lie in a shroud 
 
 Of pure, velutinous snow : 
 
 But we are warm 
 
 And safe from harm, 
 
 With loving hearts aglow. 
 
 Oh ! sweet is love to youthful heart 
 
 As memory to the old ! 
 And might I but be where thou art, 
 And aye thy chasms behold, 
 Adversity 
 
 Could not move me, 
 Though she be ne'er so cold. 
 
 70 
 
THE FROST UPON THE PANE. 
 
 The frost upon the pane ! 
 The fairy pictures fast dissolve and change, — 
 From castles grand and courtiers gay they range 
 To lowly hut in valley weird and strange, 
 
 Or in a lonely lane. 
 
 The frost upon the pane ! 
 There Nereid sporteth in her ocean caves ; 
 There Nautilus saileth 'neath the limpid waves ; 
 There see I genii, ladies, knights and slaves 
 
 Of good Alraschid's reign. 
 
 The frost upon the pane ! 
 As it dissolves beneath the fire's warm glow, 
 So may the tears of blest repentance flow, 
 And as they purify the heart below, 
 
 Soul-flowers will bloom again. 
 
 The frost upon the pane ! 
 O Soul ! pure as that frost should be thy part, 
 Yet warm as is the red June-rose's heart ; 
 And thou shouldst meekly bear each earthly smart, 
 
 That Heaven thou mayst attain. 
 
 71 
 
SONNET-NIGHT. 
 
 The Sun is fallen from his western height, 
 And now is flying o'er Pacific' waves ; 
 And sober Twilight follows quick and laves 
 Her auburn tresses in his waves of light: 
 Now fiercely in the rear comes raven Night, 
 To hasten them to their far western caves ; 
 The maiden coy flies on her way and paves 
 A purple passage for his rushing flight. 
 Above, pale Luna and her train look down, 
 Seeming to watch them in their rapid race, 
 And Luna has a smile on her fair face. 
 The lovers now are gone, and, with a frown, 
 Black Night speeds after — but, in his swift flight, 
 He drops a sable mantle, and 'tis Night. 
 
 72 
 
DAISY M. SCOTT. 
 
 Died when die the flowers from which she took her 
 
 gentle name — 
 Daisy, — she whose soul — a flower — the loving angels 
 
 claim, — 
 Daisy, — she whose life shone as a perfect altar-flame 
 
 Others' lives to guide and others hearts to warm 
 anew, — 
 
 Shining as the northern star shines through its case- 
 ment blue, — 
 
 Shining constant, constant shining, ever leading true. 
 
 Died as die the daisies, once again to spring to birth : 
 
 These to reawaken but again upon the earth ; 
 
 She to waken in that clime where ne'er is felt the dearth 
 
 Of love, as now her sire and husband feel her loss to- 
 day,— 
 
 Mourning for the flower from earth to heaven past 
 away, — 
 
 Mourning for the perfume of the flower that could not 
 stay. 
 
 Faded Daisy — blooming Daisy — faded from our sight ; 
 Blooming where the daisies never feel sad Autumn's 
 
 blight; 
 Gone to grace celestial halls, this earthly Daisy bright. 
 
 73 
 
RICHARD WINLACK. 
 
 I sing — though my slow-pulsing heart 
 Still in my weary eyes doth start 
 Dense mists, my sight to dim, 
 Whene'er I think of him — 
 
 I sing to one no longer here ; 
 
 But, through the starry heavens clear, 
 My song will float to him, 
 Far past the pale moon's rim. 
 
 Ah, still I see thy truthful eyes ! 
 From out the gates of Paradise 
 
 They're turned on us below, 
 
 And loving is their glow. 
 
 " There is a Fountain Filled With Blood 
 It was thy favorite hymn. That flood 
 Cleansed thee. With heart elate, 
 Thou wast ready for thy fate. 
 
 O Hell ! from out thy lowest shade 
 Mad Murder stalked, and all arrayed 
 In form like men of earth, 
 The ghastly fiend gave birth 
 
 74 
 
RICHARD WINLACK. 75 
 
 To three assassins whose foul deed 
 Has caused our stricken hearts to bleed, 
 
 And sadly shook our faith 
 
 In the Word of Him who saith 
 
 " Vengeance is mine." But ah, dear Lord ! 
 Our faith abideth in Thy Word ; 
 
 And well we know that he 
 
 Is safe in Heaven with Thee. 
 
 O widowed mother ! dry your tears, 
 And past the bright supernal spheres, 
 
 Send up the message dear, 
 
 Unto his listening ear, 
 
 That you will rest your burdens all 
 On Him who marks a sparrow's fall, , 
 
 And trust unto His love 
 
 Until ye meet above. 
 
 ~3CSatDg 
 
AT CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 
 
 At Christmas-tide the sky's deep blue 
 
 Appears to take a fairer hue ; 
 Heaven's torches shine with brighter, clearer light 
 With purer silver Luna shrouds the night ; 
 
 Wild Winter sings a lively tune, 
 
 And e'en the flowers joy, for soon 
 The madid May will raise them to our sight. 
 
 At Christmas-tide each gladsome boy, 
 
 Each little lass, each maiden coy, 
 Feels in the heart a gentle spring of love ; 
 Shares happiness with those fair worlds above ; — 
 
 The winds breathe gayly forth their pleasure, 
 . The branches dance to merry measure, 
 And Tellus seems with lighter step to move. 
 
 At Christmas-tide sweet Charity 
 
 Drops in the heart, all silently, 
 The dews which gently thaw its glassy rime ; 
 She bids it taste the pleasures of the time : — 
 
 The rich man seeks the beggar's door 
 
 And heaps his offerings on the floor, 
 While nature peals a paean grand, sublime. 
 
 7 6 
 
AT CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 77 
 
 At Christmas-tide Peace — daphnied dove ! — 
 Drowns Care in double-draughts of love ; 
 
 Sear sorrows steam from out the weary soul ; 
 
 A whispered cadence tells us that the goal 
 Of humankind is not the grave ; — 
 A Friend is come ! — He comes to save ! — 
 
 And down the heavens the angel-anthems roll. 
 
 At Christmas-tide the nations sing 
 
 The praises of the risen King ; — 
 Pure Piety gives each heart to feel her rule, 
 Though tutored long in Vice's shallow school. 
 
 Let all that dwell upon the earth 
 
 Give glory to the Savior's birth, 
 While chime the merry, merry bells of Yule ! 
 
HOW THE SNOW COMES DOWN. 
 
 The snow comes down on my lady's head 
 
 With a touch as gentle as love, 
 Or as odor shed on the dahlia red 
 
 When the rose moves queenly above ; 
 For my lady was bred in Luxury's bed, 
 
 And she never has chanced to know 
 That spectre guant, most woeful Want, 
 
 And her heart is as light as snow. 
 
 The snow comes down on the Magdalene's head 
 
 Like a whisper from above. 
 It causes tears, for it brings back the years 
 
 When her heart was warm with love ; 
 When parents dear and friends were near, 
 
 And she never had chanced to know 
 Man's brutal lust. Poor victim of trust, 
 
 Her heart is grown colder than snow. 
 
 The snow comes down on the rich man's head, 
 And it makes his heart grow cold. 
 
 He never hears " the dropping of tears," 
 For the chink of his yellow gold. 
 
 73 
 
THE SNOW. 79 
 
 He nothing knows of others' woes, 
 
 And he never has chanced to know 
 
 That the love of God is the love of man, 
 And that charity's whiter than snow. 
 
 The snow comes down on the wanderer's head, 
 
 And it makes him shiver with dread. 
 O Charity ! nor home has he 
 
 Nor place to lay his head. 
 He has suffered much in Poverty's clutch, 
 
 But he never has chanced to know 
 The gentle grace of a loving face, 
 
 And he only fears the snow. 
 
 The snow comes down in the lone graveyard, 
 
 And it softly kisses the sod. 
 In their lowly bed it keeps warm the dead, 
 
 And is sent by a living God. 
 'Tis a symbol fair of His watchful care, 
 
 And, though we don't chance to know, 
 He loves us now, and will care for us dead, 
 
 As shown by the graves 'neath the snow. 
 
^ " 
 
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