ILIBMRY OF CONGRESS, i I ^/^c//: .,S..i.z54 II if ^ ^ I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2011 witii funding from Tine Library of Congress littp://www.arcliive.org/details/besidewesternseaOOskid BESIDE THE WESTERN SEA: A COLLECTION OF POEMS. BY HARRIET M. SKIDMORE (-MARIE"). WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE MOST REV. J. S. ALEMANY, D. D. , ARCHBISHOP OF SAN FRANCISCO. SECOND EDITION. NEW YORK: P. 0'SHE.\, PUBLISHER, 37 Barclay Street, and 42 Park Place. 1877- ^BM- 7 S a «;^1 ^ 1^3 ^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1877, by P. O'SHEA, In the office of tlie Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Stereotyped and Printed at the Boys' Catholic Protectory, West Chester, N. Y. DEDICATION. To the greater glory of God, and the greater honor of His Immacu- late Mother, Ills angels, and sauits, those faithful ones whom the King Himself "delighteth to honor," this humble work is most ear- nestly and reverently dedicated. " Marie." San Francisco, California. PREFACE. I FIND this preface necessary, as an apology for the unparall- eled presumption of which I have been guilty, in collecting and publishing my poor rhymes and metrical attempts. And, in order to excuse myself, I am even fain to cast a portion of the blame on the too partial kindness of those revered friends who have suggested and encouraged the publication above referred to. Most of the poems contained in this volume have been contributions to Catholic newspapers and periodicals ; and that they have condescended to admit such productions into their columns, is another reason of my audacious attempt at book- making. The only merit these humble rhymes possess is, the inten- tion with which they were written, and which is stated in the dedication, viz.: "The greater glory of God, and the greater honor of His Immaculate Mother, His angels and saints." And as the simple weed blooming by the wayside, and the sparrow uttering its feeble chirp in the meadows, thus pre- sent their acceptable tributes of praise to '"the dear All- Father," so may my humble verses be received as a like earnest, though infinitely less worthy, offering. And if this, my poor mite, given to the cause of truth and virtue, find favor in His sight, then shall I even rejoice that I have sung my simple songs, and woven my garlands of wild verse-flowers, ' ' Beside the Western Sea. " " Marie." San Fi'ancisci), California, Feast of the PiiriJicatio:i, February, 1^77- INTRODUCTION. Several poetical pieces have appeared for some time past, in some public journals, under the signature *' Marie," and they seem to have attracted more than ordinary attention. In common with others, I thought they were deservedly praised. Those which I happened to read, appeared to me to reveal the peculiar and, in our days, rare combination of poetical genius and Christian spirit. Hence I was glad to learn that the distinguished authoress consented to review and enlarge her poems, and offer them to the public in a single volume. And although not born a poet, nor being very partial to poetical compositions, I take pleasure in using my name to introduce this volume, ''Beside the Western Sea," for the following reasons : First, because the lovers of poetry will, in my humble opinion, possess in it a model of rare worth, to encourage them and guide their compositions; and, secondly, because a good poem, like an exquisite painting, when guided by a Christian spirit, is most interesting and beneficial to the reader. It presents the subjects in their true light, it gives them life and animation, it graces them with befitting beauty, engages the attention and admiration of the reader, refireshes his mind with vivid impressions of the true, and gladdens his heart with noble impulses, and a wish for the lovely. Vlll INTRODUCTION. I frequently deem it a waste of time to read poetical com- positions, because they frequently seem to contain but the repetition of one idea, without entertaining the imagination with any rhetorical flourish ; and so they might be called a sort of heav}^, prosy poetry, tiresome without instructing. And the task is far more unendurable, when the object is an insidious encouragement to passion at the expense of morals. Such disguised attacks on truth and virtue should receive the frowns of all respectable persons. The case in the volume before us seems to be the very opposite ; for, while it presents but Christian subjects, refreshing the reader's mind with precious Christian recollections, it ornaments them with poetic beauty ; it breathes, while instructing, a chaste and pious spirit : it is, I believe, a precious offering to virtue and truth. qn JOSEPH S. ALEMANY, O. P., ArchUshop of San Francisco. San Francisco, Feast of St. Agatha, 1877 .\ CONTENTS. PAGB. Dedication -------- iii Preface -------- v Introduction -------- vii Contents -------- ix Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam ----- xvii Prologue to the Cross and the Crescent - xxiii The Cross and the Crescent : A Drama of the First Crusade - -- - - -- - i Epilogue to the Cross and the Crescent - - 34 The Siege of Granada : A Dramatic Poem - - ^"j The Ransomed Captive ; or, The Regeneration of Earth -------- ^^ The Nativity ------- 1^5 The Bride that Never Groweth Old - - 151 SURSUM CoRDA ------- i5o The Mist - - - - - - - - 162 The Tear-Cleansed Scroll - - - - -163 An Unknown Sister of Charity - - - - 166 The Golden Sea ------- 168 Rossini's Funeral Wreath - - - - - 170 X CONTENTS. The Consecrated Months: PAGE. The Holy Childhood. — ^January- - - - 175 The Passion. — February - - - - - -178 St. Joseph. — March - - - - - - 180 St. Joseph, Patron of the Universal Church - 183 Ite ad Joseph - - - - - - - 185 Lilies of St. Joseph - - -- - -188 The Resurrection. — ^April - - - - - 189 The Month of Mary. — May - - - - -191 A Farewell Rhyme to May - - - - 194 Household Shrines of Our Lady - - - - 196 Our Queen of May ------ 197 The Sacred Heart. — June ----- 200 The Precious Blood. — ^July - - - _ 203 Hymn to the Precious Blood - - - - 206 The Immaculate Heart of Mary. — August - 208 Cling to the Cross. — September - - - - 210 The Religious Orders - - - - - 212 The Holy Angels. — October - - - - -215 Commemoration of All-Souls. — November - - 218 Requiescant in Pace - - - - - -221 The De Profundis Bell - - - - - 223 Mater Immaculata. — December - - - - 225 The Treasures of December - - - - 2 2() Our Patroness - - - - - - -228 Cornelia's Jewels - - - - - - 231 The Summer Queen - - - - - -234 CONTENTS. XI PAGE. ** He who Giveth to the Poor Lendeth to the Lord" --- = »--- 236 Song of the Dawn - - - - = "237 The Church Triumphant - - - - - 239 The Truce of God - - - - - - 242 A Dream of the Snow - - - - - 245 Consecrated California - = - - - -247 The Guard of Honor to the Sacred Heart - 248 The Treasures of the Church - - - - 251 The Holy Father's Silver Jubilee - - - 255 The Vatican Council - - = - - ^259 A Rhyme of Congratulation - - - - 262 A Welcome to Right Rev. Bishop O'Connell - 267 Bethlehem at the ''Mater Misericord i^ " - 278 The Christian Brothers Burying the Dead on the Battle-Field of Champigny - - - - 281 The '* Mater Misericordi^ " - - » - 283 St. Ignatius - - - - - - - -285 The Franciscan Martyr - - - - - 287 The Orphan's Home - - - - - -291 Song of the New Year - - - - - 294 Our Father's Portrait - - - - - -298 San Francisco - - - - - -- 299 The Banquet of the King 301 The Altar and the Offerings - - - - ^o^ The Bishops of Germany ----- 307 The Orphan's Prayer for Benefactors - - 309 The New Triumph of Rome : A Dramatic Poem - 311 Xll CONTENTS. PAGE. Address for Washington's Birthday - - - 318 The Spousal Sacrament - - - - - 320 Saint Dominic - - - - - - - 322 "There Stood, by the Cross of Jesus, His Mother" 325 The Rock of Guadeloupe - - - - - 326 The Poisoned Chalice - - - - - -329 The True Tales of Chivalry - - - - 331 St. Francis Xavier -_--». ^^4 The Knight's Vigil ------ ^^S The Martyr's Twofold Office of Altar and Priest - - -- - -,- - 339 The Vision of Saint Dominic - - - - 341 Saint Vincent Ferrer ------ 343 Saint Agnes - - - - - - - 345 Father Junipero Serra - - - - - -347 The Lily of Quito - - - - - - 349 Saint Aloysius Gonzaga - - - - - -350 The Christian Brothers' Golden Mine - - 351 The Birds of Yo Semite - - - - "353 The Vision of Const antine - . " - - 357 The Lord's Anointed - - - - - -360 SoBiESKi's Song of Triumph _ ^ - _ ^5^ California's Relics : The Missions - - - $66 The Most Holy Rosary - - - - - ^6g The Shadow of the Cross - -- - -372 The Passion Flower - - - - - - 375 Maple Leaves - - - - -- -377 Adelaide Anne Procter - - - - - 380 CONTENTS Xlll PAGE. The Lesson Heeded - - - - -- 383 The Earth Angel ------- ^Sy A Congratulatory Rhyme - - - - - 390 Bishop McFarland. — In Memoriam - - - 391 Rev. Thomas Briody - - - - - - 393 Nellie. — In Memoriam ------ 394 Mrs. Sarah E. McCormack - - - - 395 Mrs. Ada Baine Guillen - - - - -397 Mrs. Margaret C. Mahoney - - - - 399 Little Bertha ------- 400 Mrs. Manuela T. Curtis ----- 402 GwiN Maynard - - - - - - -404 E. H. Comerford --*--- 405 James McNally - - - - - - - 407 Harry Massey - - - » - - - 409 The Angel and Child - - -- - -411 Ireland's Consecration to the Sacred Heart - 413 The Home of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart - 417 The Trial of St. Francis de Sales - - - 420 A Mother's Prayer - - - - - -423 St. Philip Neri's Question - - - - 425 The Captive's Welcome to Death - ° ° - 427 Our Lady's Death - - - - - - 428 Here She is Again - - - - - - 431 Our Lady of La Salette - - - - - 434 True Heroism >- - - - - - -436 Orate, Fratres - - - - - - - 439- The Christmas Tree - - - - - -441 XIV CONTENTS. PAGE. Saint Patrick's Day - - - - - - 443 The Daisy -------- 446 To A YouxG Friend - - - - - - 447 The Ordeal of Queen Emma - - - - -448 The Sister of Mercy's Change of Dress - - 452 The Confessional - - - - - - -453 The Isle of Saints - - - - -.- 455 The Purification - - - - - - -458 Saint Rose of Lima - - - - - - 461 *'My Rome is in your Hearts" - - - - 463 The Baptism of Our Lord - - - - - 465 The Angelus - - - - -- - - 467 The American Pilgrimage - - -- - 469 The Brown Scapular - - - - - - 471 The Rock of Saint Peter - - - - 473 The Newly Baptized - - - - - -475 Our Village ------- 477 The Royal Catechist - - - - - -479 Death of Tasso -- - - - - - 481 The Martyrs of Sandomir - - - - - 484 Lilies and Mignonette - - - - - 487 Saint Francis Borgia before the Remains of the Empress Isabella - - - - - -489 Advent ---, ----491 An Offering to Jesus, Mary and Joseph - - 493 The Prayer of Affection. — Tcr Miriam - - 495 Columbus and Isabella - - - - - -496 The Rock of Lourdes - - - - - 498 CONTENTS. - XV PAGE. The Blessing of the Winter Storm - - - 500 Saint Mary Magdalen ----- 504 A Song for the Moss ------ 506 Saint Patrick^s Prayer - - - - - 508 The Papal Volunteers - - -- - -511 Song of the Angel of Fire - - - - 512 Mother Seton - - - - - -515 Saint Patrick Crossing the Atlantic - - - 518 Let us Go to Sweetness - - - - -519 The True and Eternal Glory of Rome - - 520 The Exiled Sisters - - - = - -523 The Centennial of San Francisco - - - 525 Adam anc Eve after the Fall - - - - 529 AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM, I SAW from the radiant East unrolled The curtain of cloud and gloom, And the bright young monarch, in robe of gold. Arose from his riven tomb ; And the shining hosts of his herald-rays Their limitless pathway trod, And I read, in their glittering banners' blaze : "To the greater glory of God ! " They hurled their lances of light adown, And the night-bound eartli was free, And jewels flashed in the mountains' crown, And gleamed on the golden sea. They traced in the sheen of the purple hill, And wrote on the sparkling sod, And the waves reflected, with joyous thrill: " To the greater glory of God ! " In the dim old wood, and the bloomy bower, The gladdening splendor glows — On the dewy cup of the forest flower, And the heart of the royal rose ; And the tiny leaf, and the bloom most rare, That rise from the fragrant,sod. This legend fair on their brightness bear : "To the greater glory of God." And earth awakens her grandest song, To welcome the kingly day ; And soft are the notes of her insect throng. And sweet is her birdlings' lay. XVIU AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM. And the echoes ring through the forest dim. Where the breeze-stirred branches nod, The glad refrain of her ceaseless hymn : "To the greater glory of God." So the countless voices of earth resound, While the sun's bright legions pass Through the darksome caves of the deep profound, And over the bending grass; Till far o'er mountain, and stream, and vale. Night stretcheth her mystic rod. That song still sounds on the sighing gale : "To the greater glory of God." Then the gladsome sounds of the daylight cease, And over a silver stair The shining wings of the hosts of peace Float down through the dewy air. And o'er that path of the moonbeams bright, That linketh the sky and sod, They write, in letters of silvery light : " To the greater glory of God." And an awestruck hush o'er the earth is spread. And the twilight inurmurs die, Wliile the starry bands of the night-queen tread Their limitless realms on high; And the silent heart of the dreamer hears Float down to the dewy sod, The echoing song of the silver spheres : " To the greater glory of God." O bend thou low unto nature's scorn, Self worshipping heart of mine ! O veil thy forehead, thou ingrate, born To lead in the hymn divine I Ay, bend thou low to the ruthless stroke Of nature's Nemesis-rod, Thou mute, when the glorious psean woke: "To the greater glory of God." AD MAJOREM DEI GLORIAM. xix Forgive, and the heart of the wayward teach, O nature's carolling throng ! And bid its lowlier echoes reach The tones of your lofty song. With the lark's note ringing above the skies, And the bee's song on the sod, O let its carol harmonious rise : " To the greater glory of God." With the sunlight radiance let it shine, With the moonbeam brightness glow; Be its glory won from the source divine, And mirrored on earth below. When night shall wave o'er its day-beams fair Her drear and dark'ning rod, Be still the gleam of its starlight there : '' To the greater glory of God." And when the unending day shall fling Its light o'er the " crystal sea," And the aisles of the endless ages ring With the song of the countless free ; O'er the vast expanse of the kingdom fair, By the pure and the ransomed trod, Its voice in the echoing strain shall share: " To the greater glory of God." THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT: A DRAMA OF THE FIRST CRUSADE. Personages : — Joseph, an Aged Pilgrim, Mary, hs Daughter. Peter, the Hermit. Saracen Warden. Sir Hugh, a CJiristian Knight. Simon, Patriarch of Jerusalem, Lady Blanche. Lady Agnes. Marquis de Merincourt. Count de Lille. SOLIMAN, Sultan of Nice, Hamet, a Messenger, Godfrey. Raymond. Tancred. Baldwin. Christian Residents of Jerusalem, Soldiers, etc. PROLOGUE TO THE DRAMA OF THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. O PICTURED Past ! what privilege to see Thy golden age of faith and chivalry, When spell-bound Fancy turns her backward glance On those proud days of glory and romance ! What wondrous streams, enshrined in rosy light, What lofty pageants move before her sight ! What visions fair, in swift succession, throng The brightest scenes of story and of song ! The pomp of tourney, and its knightly train, The mail-clad hosts that filled the battle-plain; The hooded falcon and the baying hound, The fiery steed, whose footstep scorned the ground ; The moated castle, and its massive wall. The Christmas holly of the banquet hall; The yule-log's blaze, the wassail's spicy draught, z The courtly train that gayly smiled and quaffed ; The fearless archers of the greenwood free. The May-day sports beneath the bloom-decked tree. All these, in " bright confusion," strangely blend — Framework of visions that can know no end. XXIV PROLOGUE. But purer scenes, and holier pictures, too, Circled with halos, rise o'er fancy's view : Fair scenes that history scorns not to record. With comment glad and panegyric word. The gray-robed pilgrim, with his scallop-shell, His sandal-shoon, and staff that aided well In wintry blast, and summer's sultry heat. Still moving on with firm, unfalt'ring feet — Why roams he thus unceasing, day by day ? To what far region leads his cheerless way ? Seeks he the treasures of some golden mine ? Or would he bend at proud ambition's shrine? No ! no ! those faithful feet have longed to stand Within the limits of the Holy Land. He seeks the caskets of a priceless gem : Jerusalem, Nazareth, and Bethlehem ! His infant King he yearnelh to adore. Where sages bowed, and shepherds knelt before. He greets the cottage of the Holy Child In lonely Nazareth, obscure and wild ; And on, beside the Jordan's hallowed stream, Where once the sacred Dove's mysterious gleam Shone o'er the baptized Saviour's lifted head, Still moves the pilgrim's firm, unceasing tread, Till, from the summit of a rocky height, Jerusalem shines upon his longing sight. O ye who cross the mighty deep to tread Where dim Westminster shrines her noble dead ! Who hail the tombs of kings and warriors brave, And linger fondly by the poet's grave ! Say, can ye scorn tJiis pilgrim's bended knee, Upon the sacred height of Calvar}^ PROLOGUE. XXV Before the dear Redeemer's rocky tomb, And 'mid the olive garden's mystic gloom ? Ah ! 'twas a holy aim, for love divine Guided the pilgrim's path to Palestine. But o'er his way a fearful storm arose : The dreaded forms of cruel Moslem foes, Whose bloody spears sustained their erring cause, And won submission to their Prophet's laws. The faithful Christians felt their fiendish hate, And found a dismal doom — a hapless fate. Insult, oppression, and most grievous wrong — These woes the zealous Christians suffered long. And the vast armies of their paynim foe Still westward swept — a storm of death and woe ; To Christian climes, to Europe's hallowed lands. Nearer and nearer came the savage bands. The guarding shepherd of his Saviour's flock Saw the swift cloud, and heard the tempest-shock ; For the blest Church had shed a holy ray O'er Europe's pagan night and clouded way ; And long those zealous popes had cherished there The op'ning bud of learning, bright and fair. Now must it perish ? Must those blighting bands Destroy the hard-won gems of Christian lands? The cruel torch that burned fair Egypt's lore, Must it consume the Christian sage's store ? The thought was anguish ! and from favored Rome Rose many a prayer for bright religion's home. Heaven sent its answer ! With a heart of flame, And words of might, a holy hermit came. He saw dread foes pollute the sacred shrine, He saw the wrongs of fettered Palestine; xxvi PROLOGUE. And through each realm his tireless steps he bent, Repeating his sad story as he went, And urging potent prince and vaUant knight To battle for their safety and the right. They heard his voice — his sacred call obeyed : Armed, with their vassals, for the blest Crusade, And, with the cross upon each noble breast, Mounted their chargers, laid the lance in rest ; And while the battle-cry, " God wills it," rose From every heart, went forth to meet their foes; Resolved, beneath the Christian's holy sign. To battle well for faith and Palestine ; And bid, through strife and peril, gain and loss, The cruel Crescent pale before the Cross ! The Cross and the Crescent: A DRAMA OF THE FIRST CRUSADE. ACT L Scene I. — Before the gates of Jerusalem. Enter Joseph, a pilgrim, and his daugJiter, Mary. Mary. — Now, God be praised, mj father, thou may'st pause ! . Lo ! here the portal of Jerusalem ! How like a wear}- dream our journey seems ! But He who led his Israelites of old, Safe to their promised land, hath guided iis, Through our long, toilsome wand'rings, hither; but 'Tis not the hour of entrance. We must wait The porter's comTng. Meanwhile, seat thyself Here on this mossy stone. Poor, aged limbs ! Sore need have they of rest. Joseph. — Nay, nay, my child I Thus will I take repose. {Kneels.) Here, lowly bowed Before the holy city of His love, The scene of all His matchless sufferings, Will I adore my Saviour, Sovereign, God! 1 thank Thee, Lord, the pilgrim's prayer is heard 1 The goal is won ! O joy unutterable ! 2 Beside the Western Sea. The yearnings of this heart are satisfied : To look upon Thy loved Jerusalem, O'er whose proud stubbornness Thy tears have flowed ; To follow where Thy blood-marked footsteps went, Thou thorn-crowned Monarch! o'er the royal load Of pain and anguish to Thy mystic throne— The cross Thy creatures reared on Calvary. ( Ah, rocky height ! henceforth most fruitful soil, Bearing bright blossoms of redeeming grace 1) Ay, and to kneel before Thy sepulchre, Whose narrow limits could not fetter Thee^ When Thy sweet work was done. This boon, dear Lord, Thou knowest how, through all these weary years. It was the ceaseless burden of my prayer ; For I believed that nearer unto Thee My soul could come — could win a clearer sense, A deeper knowledge, of the priceless gifts Thy love hath purchased, if these feet could stand Upoji the soil once watered by Thy blood. And hallowed by Thy travel- w^earied steps ; If the last glances of these age-dimmed eyes Might rest upon those consecrated spots, The scenes of earth's most wondrous tragedy, Her Maker's death of agony. And now, Beyond this gate, the blessed recompense Of one poor pilgrim's gladly-suffered toils. The fair reality of his fond dreams — Jerusalem, with all her peerless wealth Of hallowed shrines reposes. The Cross and the Crescent. 3 Enter Peter the Hermit. Peter. — God be praised ! And when our eyes have feasted on that wealth, Can we not cry in grateful ecstasy, E'en as the holy Hebrew cried, of old, '* Lord, let thy servants now depart in peace: " Our eyes have seen the city of thy love? Joseph. — Ay, holy hermit ! for no other scene On earth is worthy to attract the gaze Of eyes that have beheld Jerusalem, And wept on Calvary. Peter. — Alas ! alas ! That earth's most h^ly treasures e'er should be In the foul grasp of ruthless infidels ! That Christian pilgrims must await the will Of their Redeemer's enemies ere they Can weep in that lone garden where He wept, Or linger, with His Mother, at the cross. Or haste, with Magdalen, at early dawn, To the rent tomb of their triumphant Lord ! Ejiter Saracen Officer. Saracen. — Another troop of crouching Christian dogs ! Ha ! ha ! methinks your pious pilgrimage Hath been of little profit, for ye seem A beggar train, in sooth. But so are all Your pilgrim tribe. The staff, the scallop-shell. The robe of gray, the dusty sandal shoon — All, all alike. A Christian pilgrimage ! Bah ! what a weary misery must it be ! Away ! ye dogs ! the Moslem spurns ye thus ! 4 Beside the Western Sea. Allah be praised that ye are in our power ! We hold your holy places. Ay, 'tis well To make these Christians grovel at our feet. 'Tis thus your brethren crouch within 3'on walls; 'Tis thus all Christendom shall crouch ere long, For we have sworn to tear from every tower In Christian Europe that detested cross, And rear our flaming crescent in its place. Away ! awa}^ ! and bid your race prepare To bend before the Prophet's followers, The future rulers of the world. Begone ! Our city hath too many of your kind. Joseph. — Ah ! fatal blow of all my dearest hopes ! Father I Thy will be done! At least, at least, I may yield up my worthless life to Thee, Thus near that mount where Thy own priceless life Was sacrificed for m.e. (Shiks down, exhausted}^ Mary {supporting him). — Alas ! he dies ! In pity hear my pleading ; spurn me not, But give my father entrance through yon gate — That hope hath been the day-star of his life. Fulfil it now, and I will gladly be A life-long prisoner, a drudging slave. Nay, more ! I'd shed my heart's last crimson drop To gratify my father's fondest wish, And think the favor all too cheaply bought. Peter. — Refuse them not ; as thou would'st find sweet aid And soothing mercy in thine hour of need, So grant the pilgrim's last petition now, And let his wearied soul depart in peace, Within the walls of his Jerusalem. The Cross and the Crescent, 5 Saracen. — Cease, babblers, cease! Have ye the piece of gold. The tribute- money which your race must pay, Ere ye can win admission through yon gate? If so, your prayer is granted. Mary. — Woe is me ! I have no gold. A cruel robber-band Of roving Bedouins have taken all. Save one small coin, and with that, ycster-eve, I bought refreshment for my fainting sire. For he drooped, worn with hunger, by the way. Alas ! I knew not of this entrance-price. Saracen. — And thou hast dared to talk of slav(Ty ! Of willingness to suffer prison-bonds ! Fool ! know'st thou not that 1 could cast thee hence Into the foulest dungeon yonder, where Are Christians pining now. And slavery ! Ay, drudging servitude — a life as hard As is the toihng over-burdened beast's — Is now the fate of hundreds of thy race, In the fair city of Jerusalem ! Go, then, and think thyself supremely blest That thou art suffered to depart ! And thou, Most pious pleader ! hast thou, then, the sum To win thy entrance? Nay, I'll warrant me '1 Thou hast not e'en the smallest coin of brass. Peter. — Thy taunt is true. I have not e'en a com Of brass or copper. Nay, for I may bear Nor purse, nor scrip. It is the Master's law, To whose blest service I am vowed, and so I bow me to His holv will. He knows 6 Beside the Western Sea. How I have longed to shed the soothing tear Of heart-felt penitence upon that shrine — That rocky altar, where He, Victim-Lamb And Priest, united, freel}^ offered up A perfect, priceless sacrifice for man. Saracen. — Go hence, then, to thy cave, and spend thy life In longings for a boon thou shalt not win Until the tribute-price be paid. Away ! Or must I drive ye hence? {^Advances threateni?igty.) Sir Hugh rushes in. Sir Hugh. — Hold ! hold ! I say, Thou fiendish savage! Take thy tribute-bribe ! \TJirows down a purse. Here is a goodly heap of that vile trash : The gold thy soul doth worship. Take it, then, And straightway ope 3'our gate. [Saracen stops to count the money. Sir Hugh. — Nay, hnger not! I am that Christian knight who saved the life Of thy proud caliph. 'Twill be worse for thee If thou dost venture to refuse. Saracen.— Sir knight, Thy gold hath magic charms, albeit thy words Are bold, in sooth. Yet, as the Prophet lives, I like thy proud, outspoken bravery. Peter (extending his hand^. — God's benison upon thee, noble knight ! Sir Hugh {bozving). — ^Nay, holy hermit, if this trivial act The Cross and the Cresce^it. 7 Hath won thy prayers, 'tis fuller recompense x\nd richer meed than I could dare to claim. \_Turns to the other pitgrhns. Rise, Christian friends! and freely pass yon gate. Mary. — Alas, sir knight ! the rude repulse we met From yonder Saracen hath proved,. I fear, A death-blow to my feeble, aged sire. {Sir Hugh hotds a flask of zvater to his lips. He opens his eyes. Sir Hugh. — Nay, courage, maiden! See, thy father lives ! Arise, good sir, ^md enter freely now ! Mary.— Arise, my father, let us thank this knight, Whose noble act hath won the wished-for boon. Joseph. — Nay, is it so ? O, this is life indeed ! I feel my ancient strength return once more. {Rises.) Joseph and Mary. — May God reward thee, noble cavalier! Sir Hugh. — Nay, nay, good friends, I merit not your thanks ! I were unworthy e'en the name of knight. Had I refused my aid. But we must haste ; These Saracens are treacherous. Let us, then, Follow yon warder with all speed. Good sir, Lean thus on me, and I will lend my strength, That we may quickly enter. Wilt lead on, Good father hermit? We shall follow thee. {Exeunt: JOSEPH, supported by Mary, and Sir YiV)Q\l, preceded by Peter tJie Hermit, closely follozving the porter. 8 Beside the Western Sea. Scene II. — Peter the Hermit, soliloquizing at the Holy Sepulchre. Ah ! this is holy ground ! the heart must bow In silent awe, in rev'rent homage now. My Saviour's tomb! O words of mystery i Yet clearest pictures of His love for me. 'Tis good to linger here. 'Tis good to stand Within the limits of His holy land, To tread those streets His blessed footsteps trod, To hail the tomb that hid the martyred God ; To weep in that lone garden, where He wept O'er sinners' woes, e'en while those sinners slept, And the pure stars in sjanpathy looked dim, As the dread cup was offered unto Him ; To linger where the perfect Victim hung On that strange shrine, to which He freely clung, Bidding^ His sacred blood unceasino- flow A sea of grace, adown the mount of woe. And this lone, rocky tomb, the wondrous mine Of love's own treasure, priceless, pure, divine I Here, here the Conqueror triumphed over death, And healed the blight of sin's envenomed breatli. How clearly rise upon my spirit's view Redemption's scenes, in pictures fair and true I His sepulchre ! sweet gate of heaven ! here Can I most fitly shed the soothing tear, And bid my heart's best tide of love be spent E'en at this portal, by the Victor rent. ,' And yet, alas ! a foul, polluting race Invade the limits of this holy place. Here, 'neath the shadow of His cross they stand, And rear, with demon might and daring hand. The Cross and the Crescent. 9 The false, false symbol of their fiendish hate For Him whose life hath opened mercy's gate ! E'en, e'en for them I But let me utter, too. His words: "Forgive! they know not what they do!" Dear Lord of lov^e ! give vision to the blind Who scorn this casket where Thy form was shrined ! Let the dread reign of cruel error cease, That faithful hearts may seek Thy tomb in peace, And every nation bless the Crucified, And love the holy city where He died. Enter SiMON, Patriarch of Jeriisalein. Simon. — Amen ! Good pilgrim, I have murmured here That earnest prayer, through many a wear}^ year; Yet while mine eyes behold the unchecked wrong. My saddened heart exclaimeth, " Lord ! how long?" How long, blest Saviour! shall a tyrant hand Rest on the treasures of Th)' holy land ? How long shall those whose love hath led them here, Above Thy tomb to shed the sacred tear. Be crushed, insulted, even at that tomb, And find, in freedom's land, the captive's doom ? When shall Th}^ faithful children cease to feel The iron pressure of the despot's heel? Peter. — O holy patriarch ! to many a scene Of cruel wrong my shrinking soiil hath been Indignant v;itness; e'en to-day I saw Two Christians forced, like drudging beasts, to draw A laden wain ; bound, too, in camel-yoke, And hailed with scoffs, and urged by cruel stroke ! lo Beside the Western Sea. Simon. — Alas! dear pilgrim, would such scenes Avere few ! Too oft, too oft, they meet the startled yiew ; And I, the Christians' patriarch, must see My children's woes, without the power to free. O that some valiant host, undaunted, strong, Would win redress for this most grievous wrong, And check the progress of this fearful band, Who swear to conquer every Christian land ; To ride to victory on the boundless flood Of Christian tears and hated Christian blood ! To tear the cross from each polluted shrine, And plant, instead, the Moslem's crescent sign ! Peter. — List ! holy patriarch ! full many a knight, High-souled, strong-armed, and undismayed in fight, Dwells, even now, in Christian climes afar. Whose heart would thirst for just, long-needed war 'Gainst the barbarian horde, the savage race, Whose tyrant hands pollute each holy place. And whose unconquered sword and unchecked hand Will sweep, like poison blast, o'er every land. Back to its deserts must that blast be driven — List to my counsel ! 'Tis the will of heaven ! In good Pope Urban thou wilt find a friend ; Unto him, then, thy heart's petitions send, And to each Christian prince, — for all are brave, And strong, withal, — the Holy Land to save. To-morrow morn I take my homeward way, . And thence thy pleading missive will convey. Throughout each Christian kingdom will I go. And there recount the tale of matchless woe ; The Cross and the Crescent. 1 1 And urge the brave, by every tender claim, For Faith's dear sake, in Mercy's holy name, With valiant arm to crush this frightful foe, And hush their fellow-Christians' wail of woe ; To tear the crescent from this holy wall, To bid the cruel throne of Islam fall, And checking error's God-defying reign. Plant the pure cross upon these towers again. Simon. — 'Tis heaven's will, and heaven's holy fire Doth light thy glance, thy earnest tones inspire. How willingly will I those words obey, And bid God speed thee on thy holy way ! My home is near, haste with me hither, then, And let thy ardent zeal inspire my pen ; And while sweet mercy's charge thou'lt homeward bear, Thy name shall dwell in my unceasing prayer. [Exeunt. Scene III. — A valley of Lorraine. Enter Lady Blanche. Lady Blanche. — Peace ! perfect peace ! how, like a white-winged dove It broodeth o'er the landscape ! Everywhere Doth nature own its charm. In soft repose She rests, as though sweet Eden memories Were haunting all her heart. An infant's breath Is not more gentle than this morning breeze, That scarcely stirs the incense-laden flowers ; And e'en the golden light that softly floods Each moissy dell, but makes the stillness seem 12 Beside the Western Sea. Deeper and more intense ; as beaming smiles On face of slumb'rer tell of softest dreams. Alas ! alas ! that man's discordant strife Should mar the loveliness of nature's rest! That he, the lord of all this smiling earth, Should ever make its sacred quietude Unwilling witness of his violence. Enter Lady Agnes. Lady Agnes.— Av, ay, sweet friend ! thy mourn- ful thoughts are mine, And the same cause, I ween, hath summoned them ;■ This quiet vale, ere sets yon shining sun, Must be the scene of fierce, unholy strife. My brother, and thy kinsman, Guy De Lille, Have vowed to meet in deadly combat here, E'en on this tranquil morn. Alas ! alas! This velvet turf shall soon be strangely dyed. Lady Blanche. — O fiendish feuds ! when will they cease to fill Faif Europe's vales with tumult ? From yon tower Of our ancestral wall my glance can rest On the fair lands and castle of De Lille ; Yet the}^, whose fields are thus so closely linked, Are severed by a dark, unchristian feud. Lady Agnes. — I fear me much that angered heaven will send, Full soon, dread retribution. Brothers here Pour out each other's blood, in their blind rage. Unheeding that a fierce barbarian foe Speeds now, perchance, like tempest-driven cloud, On, on o'er Europe's fair, faith-hallowed soil. The Cross and the Crescent. i o Lady Blanche. — O gentle friend ! that dark fore- boding fills My daily thoughts and nightly dreams with woe. My cousin Mary — dost remember her? Last year she went on holy pilgrimage With her loved sire, the saintly Sieur De Vaux, Unto our Saviour's sepulchre. To-day A holy palmer, on his homeward way From Palestine, did tell a sad, sad tale 0£ my sweet cousin. She is there detained A captive, pining in a dungeon cell ! My gentle Mary in the Moslem's powxr! The thought, the fearful thought, doth chill my heart ; And her poor father, feeble, old, and spent With the fatigue of his long pilgrimage. Hath sunk beneath the fiendish cruelty Of that fierce race who rule the Holy Land. Lady Agnes. — 'Tis woful tidings ! And my darkest fears Wax stronger, darker, by this tale of woe. But'yester-eve, when kneeling at his feet, In tearful supplication, I did breathe This fear unto my brother, as I prayed That, for sw^eet mercy's sake, he would renounce This fierce, unnatural strife. He darkly frowned, And bade me, if I would not share his hate — His deep, undying hate — to hold my peace. Nor dare, with childish tears and w^hining tongue, To bid a knight forswear his knightly vow. O that a heart so full of gentleness, And tender, pitying, bounteous charity, 14 Beside the Western Sea. Should be thus blinded, warped by erring code Of what the world calls feudal chivalry ! But I have turned my soulful pray'r to heaven ; And now, to yonder consecrated shrine, The cross-crowned dwelling of a God of peace And pitying love, I hie me — there to pour jNIy heart's deep anguish forth in prayer. Ladv BLA^XHE. — Sweet friend, i will attend thee thither; we will waft Our mingled sighs to heaven, and God will hear Our fond and tearful pleadings. This sw^eet day Shall not be witness of unchristian strife — Shall not bring death and wailing to our homes. Pray too, with me, that those now severed hearts Of Europe's noblest knights may form, ere long, A sacred league to wrest the Holy Land From the foul grasp of infidels; to free Their fellow-Christians from a tyrant's power, And check the dread simoom, now sweeping on From Asia's deserts o'er our hallowed clime. [Exeunt, Enter Peter the Hermit. Peter. — God grant that prayer ! O worse than demon strife ! What marvel that the pure, paternal heart Of our loved pope doth mourn unceasingly O'er the unchristian feuds of Christian knights, Who, heedless of his fond remonstrances, And the pure precepts of a peaceful faith. Still bid their brethren's blood cry, as of old. From earth to angered heaven I And, holy pope. The C7VSS and the Crescent. 1 5 Well, well, too, may'st thou mourn o'er this fair land, So lately led, from dreary pagan night, To the clear morning-light of Christian truth, Now doomed, unless some valiant arm will save, To feel the with'ring blight of Moslem hand ; And e'en, while basking in fair learning's morn. Be plunged again in depths of Stygian gloom. O that my voice could check the coming storm ! Could make these passion-blinded nobles see The woes that threaten thus, and bid them form A sacred compact for their own defence. And the deliverance of the hapless band Who pine 'neath Moslem, God-defying rule, By the polluted shrines of Palestine ! Hist ! hist ! I hear the coming combatants. Alas ! that hate should darken brows like those ! \_Conceals himself. Enter De MerincoURT and De Lille. De Lille. — This is the place of combat. Nerv-e thine arm. Marquis De Merincourt, for deadly strife ! De Merincourt. — Nay, Count De Lille, this arm hath strength, I trow, To cope with thine, as it hath done ere this. Peter tJie Hermit suddenly appears. Peter. — Hold ! most unworthy children Of a God of love and peace ! Pause in vour demon pastime! Your strife unholv cease I 1 6 Beside the Western Sea. Ye that were linked tosrether In faith's fraternal chain, Can ye thus rudely sever That sacred bond in twain? The pure baptismal water — Hath it not la^•ed each brow, That, stamped with fiercest passion, Is madly scowling now ? Those lips that breathed to heaven The same sweet words of prayer — • Can they, with tones of discord, Pollute the tranquil air? Ye share one blessed banquet. At one pure shrine ve kneel, Yet, scarce from worship risen, Uplift the horrid steel ! And can ve hope for heaven's Serene, harmonious life, Yet pass, O Cain-like brethren, Your earthly days in strife ? Men ! Christians I pause and listen : ^Vhile ye are warring here, Your fello\v-Christians perish Beneath the Moslem spear. Ye've vowed to aid the injured, Ye've sworn to crush the wrong, Yet Christians pine in dungeons, And crv, " O Lord I how lonsr?" The Saracen hath planted, With sacrilegious hand, His false, triumphant standard Within the Holv Land. The Cross and the Crescent. 17 Lo ! on the walls of Zion, And o'er each sacred shrine, Waves now his blood-stained banner, And gleams his crescent sign. The tomb of your Redeemer, The mount whereon He bled, Have known that haughty presence, That foul polluting tread ; And they who fain would linger Beside each holy place — Each scene of man's redemption. And heaven's saving grace — Who've longed to hold, on Calvary, Celestial converse sweet. Like dogs ai'e spurned and trampled 'Neath unbelieving feet. And, Christians ! pause and listen : While ye are warring here, A just and fearful judgment Too surely draweth near. Within the fairest province Of olive-laden Spain, The Moorish unbeliever Holds now his haughty reign. Would ye see that rule extended. And groan beneath his tread ? To the crescent sign of error Would ye bow the servile head? Up ! up ! renounce your quarrels, And form one sacred band, To guard your own dominions, And save the Holy Land ! i8 Beside the Western Sea. God wills the holy compact ! By all ye hold most dear, By your vow to aid the injured, And to break the tyrant's spear ; By your love for faith's pure altars, And your zeal for its sweet sign, Aid the Cross against the Crescent! Strive for God and Palestine ! De Merincourt.— Ay, ay, God wills it! These are magic words, They rouse m}^ soul from its unworthy sleep ; The scales of passion leave my sight. Henceforth, One lance shall ne'er be stained with brother's blood. Give me thy hand fraternal ! Let us make A new, a worthy vow— the vow of peace And Christian reconciliation ; thus We seal the sacred pledge. Our arms shall be Linked in the cause of justice, God and truth. [They clasp hands. De Lille. — Ay, in this hold, this fond fraternal clasp, Let us crush out our most unchristian hate; And, linked in unity that maketh strong. Bid these firm hands begin a nobler strife. And O what potent voices rouse us now ! Our faith, our homes, the safety of our land ; Our knightly vow to check the tyrant Wrong, And wrest his victims from his demon grasp ; Our zeal, as children of the thorn-crowned King, For the protection of each holy place Whereon our rich inheritance was won — The Cross and the Crescent. 19 These voices cry from every sacred mount And hallowed vale of that fair Eastern land, The shrine of love's great sacrifice. At last, We hear that blest appeal. De Merincourt. — Thy magic voice, O holy hermit! hath awakened us: And may all Europe hear those thrilling tones, And join the sacred compact. Come, dear Guy, Henceforth my friend, my comrade ! come with me ; A knightly throng within my banquet hall Are gathered even now. They, too, shall see The magic influence of holy words — The new, sweet consummation of our strife — The worthy conquest love hath won to-day. And thou, too, reverend hermit, haste with me, And let thy heaven-inspired accents rouse Yon throng of chieftains to heroic deeds, In the blessed cause of God and Palestine. \Exeunt. Scene IV. — Soliman, Sultan of Nice. SOLIMAN. — Now, out upon that plaguing Persian race. Who, with their wretched schism, so impede The progress of Moaveah's followers ! In truth, these false Mahometans are worse. Ay, more vexatious than our Christian foes. Well, let them strive — the Turkish Mussulmans Shall never 3ueld to All's erring sons. Ha! ha! we've argued well. Full many a prize Hath the scorned Turkman wrested from their grasp. 20 Beside the Western Sea.- Jerusalem, with all its whining throng Of Christians, still is ours. Soon, very soon, Egypt's proud Caliph may be taught to bow" To the scorned Sultan of the Turkish race ; And to our heav'n-blest arms, alone, shall be The deathless glory and the rich reward Of conquest o'er the longed-for Christian world. Ay, thanks to Allah and our scymitars, The crescent still prevails. Our Prophet's throne Full soon will crush beneath its conqu'ring w^eight The Christian crew, and tlieir rebellious creed. We triumph by the sword. No pleading tone, No fond entreaty, wins our convert throng. The fierce-browed soldier, the relentless spear, And streaming blood, and death of agony — These are our priests ! these our baptismal rites ! O Christian dogs ! thus will we win your souls, Your kingdoms, and your wealth. Thus have we won Your holy city and your cherished shrines — Our Emir rules them w^ell. The hated band Of meek-faced pilgrims w^ell may testify How stern, how merciless, how terrible, Is the dominion of the Musstdman O'er the opposers of his conqu'rmg creed. " Allah il Allah I " how^ that thrilling cry Will ring, ere long, o'er Europe's haughty realm ! How redly, in the fierce, destroying flame, Will their proud libraries, their cherished store Of manuscripts and massive volumes, gleam ! So gleamed they once in Egypt's capital, When Omar's torches doomed the lettered trash To ashes and oblivion — hist! who comes? The Civss and the C7^escent 21 Enter Hamet. SOLIMAN. — What! Hamet! here? Why comest thou from Nice ? Thy looks, thy garaients, do betoken haste — What meaneth this? Speak, fear-struck dotard, speak ! What gloomy phantom hath affrighted thee? Hamet. — Benignant ruler, and most favored son Of our great Prophet! deign to lend thine ear Unto thy faithful servant, and forgive This hasty entrance and unwonted guise. The weighty message he hath hither borne Must plead in his defence. The capital Is in most dismal strait and peril soj:'e. SOLIMAN. — Ha! ha! thine Opium draughts have crazed th}^ brain. Our Nice in peril? Nice in dismal strait? How dar'st thou bring thy senseless ravings here? Off! off! and drive thy phantoms hence by sleep ! Hamet. — Nay ! hear me, gracious lord ! My words are truth. A Christian army, countless as the leaves Of a vast forest in the summer's prime, Are now besieging our great capital — Th}^ Vizier bade me hither speed, and say That, if thou dost not straightway send good aid, The garrison must yield to Christian arms. SOLTMAN. — To Christian arms ! No ! as the Prophet lives, The race of dogs shall not win entrance there. And 1 was dreaming of the victory. The triumph, over hated Christendom, 2 2 Beside the Western Sea. That seemed so near, so certain ! 'Tis most strange ! We had no warning of this host's approach. Surely they journeyed hither on the wings Of the swift midnight blast ! But they shall die As dies that blast upon the torrid waste Of wide Arabian deserts. Dare they hope To bid the Crescent pale before the Cross? Presumptuous fools ! We'll bid them howl with woe For this, their mad attempt ! Aw^ay ! aw^ay ! And summon ev'rv warrior to arms! Go ! bid them straightway sally forth to Nice ! Stay! I'll go with thee, for my presence there Will be as fuel to their fiery zeal. Haste! haste! and let our ceaseless summons be: Death, unrelenting death, to Christian dogs ! \Exeunt Scene V. — Eve of the conquest of Jerusalem. Godfrey of Lorraine {solus), Godfrey. — O holy city of the Christian's love! Why art thou still the cruel Moslem's prey ? Surely our cause is just, is blest above : Then why doth needed victory delay ? The paynim crescent gleams, unconquered still, Where faith's Crusaders fain would plant the cross ; And truth lies crushed beside the sacred hill Where Israel's martyred King redeemed our loss. The Cross and the Crescent. 2 o Still, from within those error-guarded walls, Forth on the air the captives' shrieks are borne ; And ceaselessly the lash of torture falls On those who, helpless and unaided, mourn. Our ranks are thinned — each knightly spirit sinks Depressed, discouraged by the prospect drear, While the fierce scjmiitar in triumph drinks Deep draughts of blood — the Christian's life- blood dear. O Lord of Hosts ! how long shall these things be ? How long shall thine own land be thus defiled, And saddest echoes rise, unhushed, to Thee, Of wailing servitude and anguish wild ? In sorrow bowed, O Father ! we repent Of every sin against Thy sacred laws. For much we fear our guilty hearts prevent The glorious end of our most holy cause. A sudden hope dawns on my night of woe — We yet ma}^ knecl before the holy shrine, And bid the tear of humble penance flow, 'Mid grateful hymns for rescued Palestine. So will I hie me to my warriors brave. And bid them win, by penitence and prayer, The grace to gain the blessed boon we crave. Ere night shall hide to-morrow's sunlight fair. \Exit. Enter Raymond, Tancred, and Baldwin. Raymond. — O brave companions ! 'tis a weary strife. And weary days have passed since yonder walls First met our longing gaze. Can we forget 24 Beside the Wester^i Sea. The thrilling scene when, prostrate on the earth, Our glittering hosts first hailed Jerusalem ? How throbbed each heart with deep and holy joy ! There, there, beyond those walls, the object fair Of Faith's Crusade, of Faith's sweet visions, lay — There, in the sunlight, slept Gethsemane ; There rose the rocky altar of the cross, There knelt the pilgrims at love's sepulchre, To free those holy shruies from Moslem grasp. To bid the Christians worship there in peace. Was our blest aim. ^' God wills it ! " How that cry Rose in one mighty voice from every heart! Baldwin. — Alas, alas, that aim is not fulfilled, And bravest souls are sick'ning with despair ! Still, still, yon portal is as firmly closed As when the Christian army rested first Outside its massy towers; and little hope Remaineth of our longed-for entrance there. Tancred. — Yet, courage, knights ! success will bless our arms, If we be strong of heart and firm of hand. " Nil desperandum ! " 'Tis a motto fair, And he who follows it can never fail. What? Can we faint with Godfrey at our head? The pure-souled Godfrey, valiant, undismayed. Saintly in life, adored by all who know And own him as their leader? Crush the thousfht! To-morrow we will strive with trebled zeal : 'Tis our last chance, yet humblest confidence In heaven's sure aid doth bid me banish fear. The Cress and the Crescent. 25 Ent€7' Peter tlic Hermit. Peter. — Brave Tancred ! th}' courage will win thee success — The hopeful in spirit sweet heaven will bless ; Tlie Christian shall triumph, the cross shall pre vail — God wills it ! God wills it ! His word cannot fail. He wills the blest triumph of right over wrong, He wills that the just in the strife shall be strong ; Though the clouds may be dark, yet His light can shine through — God wills it! God wills it! His promise is true 1 'Tis to chasten, to humble, He sendeth delay — Though the journey be long, shall we faint by the way ? No ! onward and upward, with hearts strong and pure ! God wills it ! God wills it ! His word shall endure I By virtue, bv vigils, by penance and prayer, Man gaineth the power to do and to dare — With a purified heart, and an unsullied hand, We ma\' ai:r, the sure arrow, and lift the true brand ; For He who bade Israel triumph of old — The just God ol armies doth bid ye be bold. To the helper of Gideon gratefully bow, God willeth, God willeth, your victory now ! To-morrow — 'tis Friday — redemption's bright day, When the Conqueror passed o'er the death-darkened way ; To give ye blest ransom, to bid ye be free. He clung to His throne on the blood-purpled tree. t6 Beside the Western Sea. The garden He wept in, the m(3unt where He bled, Have felt the pollution of Saracen tread — Up, up, to their rescue ! nor falter, till they Are won by the Cross, on its festival day. But O, let sweet mercy with justice be twined — To the pleading give ear, to the helpless be kind ; And armed thus with virtue, go forth to the fight^ God wills it ! God wills it ! we strive for the right ! Enter Godfrey. Godfrey. — O noble war-cry, worthy of our cause ! To-morrow it shall ring with thrilling power From those brave hearts who battle for the right. Comrades ! our task, as leaders in the strife. Must be, by bright example, to enforce Precepts of valor, charity, and zeal. Let us be brave, but gen'rous ; let no deed Of cruelty or passion stain the cross We wear upon our breasts, and m whose name We wage our holy warfare. Let us haste To our dear chapel, there to win, by prayer And holy vigil, purest benisons Upon the Christian arms. Thy pleadings blest, O holy hermit ! will give strength to ours, And waft them heav'nward, as an incense-cloud, [Exeunt, The Cross and the Crescent. 27 Scene VI. — The morning after the conquest of Jerusalem. Peter the Hermit {soltcs). Peter. — Th^ prize is won. At last, at last, The Red Sea of our strife is past ! God's chosen ones may safely stand On thy freed soil, O Promised Land ! And o'er those streets, unfettered, tread Where Israel's Victim-Lamb was led. The pilgrim here may freely bow Before thy holv places now — May stand upon that summit lone, The Victim's shrine, the Sov'reign's throne — Muse 'mid the olive garden's gloom, And kneel beside his Saviour's tomb. O loved Jerusalem ! art thou free ? Hath the dread shadow fled from thee? Or am I mocked by cruel gleam Of glowing fancy's faithless dream? No ! no ! the blissful scene is true. At last, before my longing view. The Christian symbox gleameth bright From lofty wall and mountain height ; No more the crescent's haughty glare Defies thy sacred sunlight fair ; No more will sighing captives pine, Or Moslem ha'ids pollute the shrine. Fled is the shoctow, loosed the chain, And Faith resumes her peaceful reign. O Lord of Hosts ! the praise is Thine. The purchased prize, the ransomed shrine, By Thy blest aid was won ; Thy ear 2 8 Beside the Western Sea. Heard the deep wail of woe and fear, And Thou hast dried the mourner's tear. My work is done, my prayer is heard : . The heart that trusted in Thy word Was not deceived. And now 1 go. To bid the grateful tear-drop flow Upon that fair and favored earth Thy blood redeemed from blight and dearth. O that my soul might win release Within this home of love and peace, And, all her earthly fetters riven. Rise from Thy sepulchre to heaven ! \Exit. Enter the Crusaders^ in procession, singing tJie Te Deum. All exclaim. — Hail, Holy City ! Hail, Jerusalem ! Godfrey enters, attended by RAYMOND, Tancred, and Baldwin. All shout. — Long live Duke Godfrey, and our noble chiefs ! Godfrey. — O brave Crusaders ! with o'erflowing hearts We here return your greeting. 'Tis a time For holy joy and blissful gratitude. Lo ! the rich recompense of all our toils — Jerusalem, with all her treasures fair, Her blest associations, her rich store Of holy memories and hallowed scenes ! 'Tis bright reality ; at last, at last, This glowing prize that mocked our eyes so long, The Cross ajtd the Cresceftt. 29 Like false illusion of the desert waste, Which showeth crystal streams and waving trees And blooming Edens, and serene retreats, Unto the weary pilgrim ; and while he, Eager and hopeful, quickens his faint steps To reach his rest, the mocking phantom false Flies on before, yet ever seemeth near : But now the true oasis shines at last, And we have reached its blessed boundary. Error is checked. Her vile, polluting hand Removed from fair religion's holy shrines — From dungeons foul, from weary servitude. The Christians issue, as the mourning band Came from the hateful bonds of Babylon. Enter SiMON the Patriarch, zvith a throng of Christians. Simon. — Ay, noble knight ! they come, a grate- ful throng, To thank their brave deliverers — to bid Heaven's choicest benedictions rest on those Whose valiant arms have won their blest release. Long had the Christians' tears of anguish flowed On the sad spot where once a Saviour wept ; Long had the heart-wrung pray'r and weary sigh Wafted to heaven their history of woe, And, with the eloquence of agony For aid and comfort, and the full redress That heaven hath promised for the wrongs of earth, Pleaded unceasingly. Long, long deferred Was the blest answer, and the needed aid — But now 'tis won. O blessed be His name 30 Beside the Western Sea. Who, as He armed the Israelites of old With strength and valor 'gainst their pagan foes, Hath armed the faithful soldiers of the cross, And caused their triumph o'er that dreaded race Who strive, by fearful threat and cruel spear, To win unwilling homage — to extend Their erring Prophet's false, ferocious creed. Godfrey. — O reverend patriarch ! the unworthy chief Of the Crusaders humbly bows to thee, The shepherd true of Zion's Christian flock, And faithful minister of that dear Lord Who won our life on yonder barren height. All exclaim. — Hail, holy patriarch of Jerusalem! Simon. — Permit me, noble knights, to utter now The fond petition of my brethren here : That from your dauntless band ye would select A ruler for Jerusalem — a king O'er the new realm your bravery hath won. The just enforcement of the laws, the weal And safety of our city, now demand A monarch just, beneficent, and wise. Tancred. — Ay, holy patriarch, th/ prayer is well. And, for that dignity, none, none on earth Is more deserving, or hath firmer hand To wield the sceptre ; or a nobler brow To wear a sovereign's diadem of power, Than our loved leader, Godfrey of Lorraine ! Raymond. — Well hast thou spoken, Tancred ! From m}^ soul 1 echo all thy words I Though he would check The voice that in his presence praiseth him, The Cross and the Crescent. 31 Yet will I say, that, if unsullied life, Valor and justice, tender charity. And every peerless grace that, as a robe, Is worn upon a Christian warrior's heart. Render their owner worthy of a throne. Then is Duke Godfrey in his fitting place, Were he the ruler of a world-wide realm ! SiiMON. — Most noble duke, I pray thee to accept The dignity for which, with one accord, Thv lollowers do pronounce thee worthy. Ay, Let not humility bid thee reject A station which thy duty to the realm Thine arm hath helped to conquer, and thy zeal, As faithful Christian, for religion's w^eal. Would urge thee now to fill. Godfrey. — Revered And holy patriarch, and too partial friends, 111 do 1 merit your so lavish praise ; And all unworthy am I of that throne Your friendship Avould confer. Yet, in the name Of duty as a Christian and a knight Whose arm hath lent its weak, yet willing, aid. In our blest triumph, unto this fair realm — The casket oi so many priceless gems, Those holy shrines, that must be guarded well — I do accept, with humble, grateful heart, The government of loved Jerusalem ; And, in my urgent need, I now implore Your potent prayers, that I may win the boon Of grace to be most faithful to my trust, And make my reign, as reigns should ever be: Useful to earth, and blest by well-served heaven. 32 Beside the Western Sea. Baldwin. — Beloved leader ! let my willing knee Be first to bend to our new sovereign ; And let my voice salute thee with the words It shall repeat, when, on thy brow benign, Our patriarch shall place the jewelled crown : Hail! hail to Godfrey, our most worthy king ! All repeat. — Hail ! hail to Godfrey, our most worthy king ! Godfrey. — Ah ! noble comrades ! do not bid me wear A sceptre here, or jewelled diadem : My hand shall never grasp a golden rod Where my dear Lord's once bore the mocking reed. Upon this brow no costly crown shall gleam, Where He hath worn a diadem of thorns. The name of monarch, even, is too much Here, in this city of the cross-throned King. And now, to render fitting thanks to Him Who gave the victory — who well may claim The fond Crusaders' heartfelt 2:ratitude — Let us unto His sacred tomb repair, As humble penitents ; and as He wept O'er human sins, when that glad multitude Strewed royal palms in His triumphal way. So, even in our glad, victorious march. Let us bemoan the guilt that twined His brow With cruel thorns, and bade our King repose Upon a throne of matchless agony. 'Twas by a wondrous chance, upon the day, E'en at the self- same hour of that strange scene — The man-God's saving death on Calvary — That this new triumph of the cross was won ; The Cross and the Crescent. 1^2) 'Tis meet, then, that another triumph now — The contrite sorrow of our humble hearts — Should here be gained by that most blessed cross, Where first it rose on favored Calvary. 'Tis fitting, too, that thou, O patriarch ! Shouldst guide thy newly-chosen followers Unto that shrine where oft thy earnest prayer Hath pleaded for the coming of this day Of cloudless joy and blest deliverance. Lead, then, this humble train of penitents To the dear tomb of their triumphant Lord, That they, with grateful hearts, may mingle there The tear for foul offences with their glad And deep thanksgiving for the victory That bade the Crescent's false and lurid glare Pale in the light of Truth's resplendent Cross ! \Exeunt oinnes. EPILOGUE TO THE DRAMA OF THE CROSS AND THE CRESCENT. Thus valiant knights a noble conquest made, And closed triumphantly their First Crusade ; Redressed the wrong, and reared the holy sign Above the rescued realm of Palestine. Godfrey, whose virtues hist'ry loves to tell, Ruled that fair clime, and watched its treasures well ; Yet, when his noble life at last was given Back to its God, to find its crown in heaven, Again the cloud grew dark above the land, So long sustained by his victorious hand ; Again the paynim scymitar of dread Flashed in proud triumph where the Christians bled. From Clairvaux's abbey sainted Bernard came, And, in Religion's cause and Mercy's name. Bade the brave heart and strength-invested hand Battle once more for Faith's beloved land. Again that sacred summons was obeyed. Again they gathered for a new Crusade ; And, through alternate victory and loss, Waged the just warfare of the holy cross. The Cross and the Crescent. 35 Long years fled by, and still the strife went on — Fame tells the deeds of those bright ages gone, And shows the Lion Heart's victorious name. That to the Saracen such dread became, The Moslem mother by it hushed her child, And horsemen checked the charger foaming wild Yet, while she smiles o'er many a conquest made, Fame mourns the losses of the last Crusade ; But smiles again, as cheeringly she shows Full many a triumph even in that close. Error was checked — the Moslem's dreaded lance No more toward bright Europe dared advance ; And fair concessions, gladly granted, gave Freedom to those who sought their Saviour's grave. For, the proud Saracen no longer chose To battle 'gainst such hydra-headed foes ; And, though victorious, had been taught to fear The Christian sword that so long matched his spear. Fair Science, too, had many a triumph won, Before the battles of the cross were done : The pilgrim scholar added to his store Arabia's tongue, and Syria's starry lore ; New halls of learning rose and flourished fair, Watched well by those whose throne was Peter's chair. There pale-browed students found an endless feast, 'Mid the rich treasures gathered in the East. The needle guide, that seeks the northern star, First proved its value in the holy war, And led, at last, the sons of smiling Spain To the new empire, o'er the Western main. o 6 Beside the Western Sea. And commerce, too, could bid her strength expand, By the new intercourse with Eastern land Then Venice rose, proud sovereign of the sea And ruled the world bv laden ars^osv. Then, in the shining leaf from Syria brought, Its "costly shroud the patient silk-worm wrought; And, torn from Eastern soil, the slender cane Transferred its nectar to Italia's plain. Another triumph Europe's realms had won Ere the Crusaders' noble work was done : The savage warfare 'gainst whose guilty reign Religion's ministers long strove in vain — The Cain-like strife, when, in unchristian feud. Fierce knights their hands in brothers' blood imbrued ; — This died at last, when, linked in friendship's band. The Christian army sought the Holy Land, And Europe saw her direst evil cease, When feudal lords were clasped in bonds of peace. So came this good from the dread hand of war — Well worth renown such noble triumphs are. Ah ! cold contempt should never cast her shade On those who battled in each just Crusade ; Who, bound by knightly vow to right the wrong, For Faith and Freedom struggled well and long, And, through alternate victory and loss, Still bade the Crescent bend before the Cross. THE SIEGE OF GRANADA. THE SIEGE OF GRANADA, A DRAMATIC POEM. PERSONAGES:— Aben Hassan, the Moorish King. BOABDIL, his Son, Ferdinand, King of Spain. Don Juan de Vera, Christian Envoy A BD ALL AH, Moorish Pri^ne Minister. Mahmoud, } ^'""''''' Courtiers. A San ton, or Moorish Prophet. Isabella, Queen of Spain. Dona Inez, ) Dona Catalina, f ^^^^^^ of Honor to Isabella. Ayesha, Mother of Boabdil. MORAYMA, Wife of Boabdil. ZORAYA, Wife of Aben Hassan. Maria, a Christian Captive. Zara, ) ^ , , . 7 ■p j- Ayesha s Attendants. The Siege of Granada: A DRAMATIC POEM. ACT I. Scene I. — An apartment in the Alhambra. The Moorish King, Abex Hassan {solus). Aben Hassan. — My soul is weary of this listless life, * And loathes the quiet of its gilded cage ; for the charger's neigh, the din of strife. The trumpet pealing 'mid the battle's rage ! This is the warrior's music, these the strains, For which 1 pine in idle bondage here, — Ay, bondage base, though formed of silken chains. In sculptured halls, than dungeon far more drear, 1 pace the broad and tesselated floor. And dream of fields bedewed with Christian blood ; My flashing scymitar seems red with gore, Cleaving its pathway through the fancied flood. I wake, to curse the idle peace that reigns O'er spacious gallery and decked saloon ; To bid the minstrels cease their drowsy strains, And chide the tinkling foimtain for its tune. My carpet courtiers, broidered, decked, and bhand, With snowv fingers pluck the sill\' flowers, 40 Beside the Western . Sea, Or praise the beauty of this goodly land, Its verdant fields, its vineyards, and its bowers. And they are very brave in mimic war — In joust and tournament well skilled and bold ; Of peaceful chivalry the boast, the star, By ladies praised, and decked with scarfs of gold. But I will try their bravery ere long — Ay, I will lead them to a nobler strife. Rouse, unscarred heroes, rouse, ye valiant throng ! I'll bring rare changes o'er your lazy life. Enter Abdallah. Aben Hassan {starting). — Ha! who intrudes? Abdallah, is it thou? May not the monarch of this mighty realm Be left one hour in peace? Hence, hence, retire ! Abdallah. — O gracious sov'reign ! Allah's favored son. Benignant ruler o'er earth's fairest clime, Long may thy royal presence bless this throne ! Long may thine eyes illume these sacred halls I Aben Hassan. — Enough of adulation ! If thou hast Some trifling message, or wouldst beg a boon, Speak quickly, and withdraw ! Abdallah. — • Thy prostrate slave Kisses the dust beneath his master's feet, To thank this condescension, for he has A weighty message for th}^ royal ear. And craves a boon of thy rich clemency — But 'tis not for himself. The wily king Who rules the Christian dogs in fair Castile, The Siege cf Granada. 41 Hath hither sent a haughty train of knights, On special embassy. An hour since The throng arrived, in glitt'ring armor dight, Their steeds caparisoned with cloth of gold. Sooth, 'twas a goodly sight ! and as they pranced In pompous silence through the quiet town, The wondVing citizens stood fixed and mute. In stupid admiration. That proud knight, Don Juan De Vera, envoy of Castile, And noble leader of this courtly troop. Now in the royal antechamber waits. And craves an audience. Aben Hassan. — Allah ! sav vou sor On special embassy? Nay, this is strange I Castilian monarchs are not wont to send Their pompous envoys to our Moslem court. I read the riddle: 'Tissome cunning scheme Of that proud plotter, Ferdinand. In sooth His insolence shall find as bold retort. For Aben Hassan is no crouching slave. Give cordial greeting to Don Juan, and say, The Caliph grants him audience, and awaits His coming, here. But summon, first, two knights. Two trusty servants, that some show of state May honor the occasion. Then attend, Thyself, the knight unto our presence. Go ! {^Exit Abdallah. Aben Hassan {solus). — Now may our holy Prophet aid me I How I long To fling defiance m the very teeth Oi these proud Christians and their wily king ! Well can I guess their errand. Ere I pay 42 Beside the Western Sea. The servile tribute wrung from craven hearts, This thirsty scymitar shall drink deep draughts Of unbelievers' blood. I dreamed of war : May Allah and his holy Prophet grant Its swift and sure fulfilment! Enter tico Moorish knights. Knights {together).— Hail to thee, Commander of the faithful ! Death to all Who dare oppose thy heaven-directed will ! Aben Hassan. — Ay, death indeed! stern, unre- lenting death ! Behold your places, knights ! quick to your posts ! I hear the footsteps of our Christian guest. Enter Abdallah, with DoN Juan. Abdallah. — Long live our Caliph ! May those royal eyes Look down with favor on the prostrate slave Who here presents, obedient to thy will, Don Juan de Vera, envoy of Castile. [Don Juan, advancing and sinking o?t one knee, Don Juan. — Permit me, august monarch, in the name Of my most gracious sovereigns, Ferdinand And royal Isabella, of Castile, To offer greeting courteous unto thee ! Aben Hassan. — Rise, noble knight ! Granada's king returns The royal greeting, with profoundest thanks For the kind courtesv of Castile's lord, The Siege of Granada. 43 And his right regal spouse. Thy presence here, Most worthy cavalier, is honor more. Far more, than we could claim. It well rebukes Our own neglect of courtly etiquette. For which we crave our royal neighbor's grace. • Our Vizier hath informed us, noble knight. That thou art come on special embassy : Make known thy errand. Our unworthy ears Are open to thy words : speak, then, sir knight ! Don Juan. — Thy will is potent, O most gracious king ! And claims a prompt obedience. I have come, Commissioned by my sov'reigns, to demand Full liquidation for the long arrears Of tribute-money which Granada's kings So justly owe the rulers of Castile. This is my embassy. Aben Hassan. — And ^'/^/^ my reply : Go, tell thy masters that the craven kings Who made that compact, and were wont to pay To the Castilian crown the servile sum. Are, thanks to Allah, mould'ring in their graves ! Now, the sole coinage of our Moorish mints Are blades of scy7nitars and lances' heads ! Don Juan {aside). — Presumptuous infidel ! would I might give The fitting punishment for those bold words ! But slumber yet, good lance ! The time will come. {Aloud.) Thy will is potent, and shall be obeyed With scrupulous exactness. May I now Take courteous leave of fair Granada's court? 44 Beside the Western Sea. Aben Hassan. — Nay, nay, most noble knight! Thou art our guest, And we would show thee how the iNIoslem king Can practise hospitality most meet .For our good neighbor's envoy. We implore ijThat thou wilt honor till the morn, at least, Our grateful court. Abdallah, in thy charge We leave our noble visitor ; see, then. That he be honored as befits his rank. And now receive, most worthy cavalier, As testimonial of our deep regard, i\nd true appreciation of thy brave And knightly seeming, this fair scymitar Of best Damascus steel. Don Juan. — Most humble thanks, gracious monarch ! for the regal gift. He whom thou honorest thus, albeit he is Most undeserving, ventures yet to hope That this tried arm may, one day,' give good proof Unto the royal donor of its skill In. wielding this good weapon. Sire, adieu ! 1 kiss th}^ gracious hand. {Exeunt DON JUAN ajid Abdallah, / Deuni Laiidaviiis lor our victory ! All stng. — Hail, morning of triumph ! Hail, glorious day. And blest be the hearts that exult in its ray ! To the strong arm that aided, success let us sing ! Long life to Fernando ! Hail, hail, to our king ! [All retire sloivly, singing this chorus :) Down, down with the Crescent, and up with the Cross ! We'll crush all invaders, and laugh at their loss ; And this be our watchword, in danger or weal, " Santiago ! Santiago ! Ho ! ho ! for Castile ! " \_Exeunt omnes. THE RANSOMED CAPTIVE; OR, THE REGENERATION OF EARTH, PERSONAGES: Earth. Paganism. Child of Earth. Violence. Truth {or Religion). Virtue. Faith. Hope. Charity. Peace. Mercy. Europe. Asia. Africa. America. Science. Music. Poetry. Painting. Sculpture. The Ransomed Captive ; OR, THE REGENERATION OF EARTH AN ALLEGORICAL DRAMA. ACT I. Scene I. — Paganism leads ^xktk, fettered. Earth. — Yet once more, hear me ! Lo, I call on thee, By all thy gods on high Olympus throned, To free me from these bonds! I faint, I die. Beneath thy fearful yoke ! My smiling vales Are drenched with blood — the life-blood of my sons, Poured out upon thy dread, unholy shrines. Is not the dismal sacrifice complete? List the fierce echoes, o'er my moaning hills, Of thy foul orgies. Maddened by thy spells, The wild Bacchantes fill the quiet air With strange, demoniac sounds. Lo ! ev'ry vice, Ev'ry dark crime, exalted as a god. And by my children worshipped, proudly rules, And fills my once unclouded realm with woe. Ah, bid this anguish cease ! 'Tis time ! 'tis time ! Ages ago thy fearful sway began — 96 Beside the Western Sea. Relief must come. Oh, let me lift my voice, In wild appeal, in agony of prayer! iSlie kneels^ O source of life ! Creator, Sovereign Lord ! Hear the wild prayer of sorrow-laden Earth. Fair nature's King, at v/hose creating word Light rose from shade — a world sprang into birth ! Who bade the mist-wreath'd mountains proudly stand, Chained the vast sea, and decked the blooming land — To Thee, great Ruler, lo ! I lift my cry — My wild appeal for pity and relief; Break m}^ loath'd bondage, heal my agony, Comfort my children, calm their stormy grief; Bid the foul demon-tyrant's reign be o'er, Bring dove-e3"ed Peace to weary Earth once more. Thy promise sweet of perfect sacrifice, Of full atonement, thrilled this blighted heart, When sin-bowed Adam from lost Paradise Turned, in his lonely anguish, to depart. *Tis time, O Lord ! fulfil Earth's hopeful dream : Send the Messiah, and Thy world redeem ! Banish the false, and bring Thy truth divine, Let Thine own temples in fair beauty rise ; Let holy hands, upon a holy shrine, Offer the blest, eternal sacrifice ; O'er shrouded earth Thy blessed sunlight shed, And back to endless life restore the dead. The Ransomed Captive, 97 Enter Violence. Violence. — Rouse thee, pale mother ; shrink no longer here ! Up from thy craven dream ! Thy ruler claims Thy homage and thy presence. Stare not thus — Dost know thy ruler? 'Tis my consort meet, Great Paganism, mistress of the world. Who gives a god for every fantasy And passion of her victims. Ha ! ha ! well ]\lay she thus condescend ! Full sure is she Of her deluded prey. Dost hear their shouts? Up, dreamer up, and join thy children's