^IIP ^Wp lUr ^wB LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf5i.M7^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. H*P V^^^^^¥^ AND H H BY &EDR&E HENRY CURTIS, NEW YORK: THOMAS KELLY, Publisher, 358 and 360 Broome St. 7& vki*- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by George Henry Curtis, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. * PRELUDE*- ;F harmony to thought and utterance cling In mildest measure through my simple lines ; If out of life's drear discords some designs Of heavenly concords may appear, — then sing, Thou lover of thy race, while on the wing Of faith thou soarest far away from earth, Where sounds of welcome cheer thy newer birth With strains of joy beyond thy high imagining ! Yet leave us not for aye ! Still let us hear New words of gladness with an ampler tone ; Reveal again the passion all thine own ! That highest hope may banish all our fear, A smile of ecstasy chase every tear, While all dark birds of omen hence have flown. -^CONTENTS*- Marie Brenner, Child of Song, ----- 9 Marie Brenner, Prima Donna, ----- 26 SCENES FROM REAL LIFE. Ad Fratrem, 89 A Hindoo Artist, - - - - - - -119 Ad Filiam, --------- 151 A Summer Day on the Hudson, ----- 167 A Mid Century Musical Survey, - - - - 175 Christmas Tide, - - - - - - - -57 Childhood Memories, ------- 97 Freemen, Kise !-------- 77 Farewell to Home, ------- 185 Julian and Constantius, - - - - - -51 Katterskill, - - - - - - - -111 Maria and Thalia, -___--- 199 O Day of Loving Memories, 81 On Hearing Four Vocalists, 85 PAGE- Ode to Washington M. Smith, ----- 101 O Bright be the Thought, ----- 189 Sunset at Bellevue, ------- 67 Sires of 'Seventy-six, - ------ 71 The Two Angels, ------- 63 To Katie, --------- 93 The Soprano, -------- 123 To Ariel, --------- 127 To Josephine, -------- 135 Tell Me, Dearest, ------- 139 The Chosen One, ____--- 143 The Confident American, - - - - - - 159 The Young Crusader, ------- 193 Upon the Delaware, ------- 115 What My Teacher is to Me, - 105 Were I the Morning, ------- 131 With Thee, - 147 p A, b s\ *l> lip IIPTO®Ik CHILD OF SONG. " If music and sweet poetry agree, As they must needs, the sister and the brother, Then must the ove he great 'twixt thee and me, Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. Downland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch Upon the lute doth ravish human sense : Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such As passing all conceit, needs no defense. Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound, That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes : A nd I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd, When as himself to singing he betakes. One god is god of both, as poets feign : One knight loves both, and both in thee remain." —William Shakespeare. CANTO FIRST. ^Aj^HEBE mountains blue in the far distance lie, *$jfl$ And shining streamlets in their gladness run ; Where quiet upland lakelets brightly vie f^? With the soft shimmering of the summer sun Where, near the peaceful hamlets, one by one, A long, smooth river in its beauty flows, Stands Annaville : there pause with me, nor shun The modest flower that in yon garden grows, Sweet plant that all do love, a pure and budding rose. [9] II. She was the youngest of a flock of three, Charles, Margaret and Marie Brenner nam'd, Who from a pious father trustingly, Protection and a lov'd example claim'd. No name in Annaville was less defam'd Than good Elias Brenner's, borne from youth ; Of no base circumvention e'er ashamed, He lov'd and fear'd his God, and spoke the truth A just and honest man, too rarely seen, in sooth. in. The partner of his youth, lov'd evermore, And dearer as the mother of the three, Rebecca Brenner smiled, and softly o'er Each feature shone a sunny memory. ' Replete with health, from bitter envy free, She joy'd to make each passing day but yield Its own priz'd quota of life's goodly glee, That time's brief work be cheer'd, in future field, By peace, while shelter'd still by faith, the heav'nly shield. IV. The sun, the mount, the lakelet and the stream Make seemly setting for the fertile vale : And round the villa fairest flow r ers, I deem, Bend gracefully beneath each gentle gale. No rare exotic there can aught avail To shade the lily in her white repose ; Nor bid the lovely lilac in her purple pale, Nor hide the beauty of the queenly rose : And standing sentry over all, the tall elm grows. [10] V. Like fairy bells the honeysuckles hung Around the pillars in a trellis'd woof ; And with the small leav'd, red flower' d cypress flung Their fragrance from the broad piazza's roof. The sweet syringa stood not far aloof, Amid parterres of pinks and violets ; The jessamine and heliotrope gave proof Of careful culture : so, the heart that sets Some store of love on flowers, life's loveliest lesson gets. VI. O barren else had been the portico, And sill and lintel too severely straight ; The cornice and the lengthen'd line below To tasteful eye had shar'd no finer fate. But now, around, from door to garden gate, And o'er the double-storied villa there, The small tree, evergreen, and flower ornate Their varied, leafy line of beauty bear, And all are fair and fresh by daily toil and care. VII. Nor were choice fruit and esculent forgot, As stretching from the villa's rear were seen The apple, cherry, plum and apricot In dainty dalliance with the pear so green. And toward the barn, potato, beet and bean In wide rows grew beside the waving corn ; Light lettuce and the pea had place between The parsley delicate, of wild weeds shorn, And rich, red currants which the encircling fence adorn. Hi] VIII. Beneath the elm that sentry stood o'er all, A living spring of water pure and cold There gleam'd to gladden, when midsummer's call Straight to its bubbling brink drew young and old. At eve his tender tale the robin told, Perch'd on a pendent branch, and fitly plum'd ; His black tiara and his breast of gold Convulsive shook, — his eyes shot fire, — consum'd With love's sweet agonies, he tirelesslv resum'd. IX. Delighted audience had this evening song, As sang this robin with a lover's glee ; The heart and ear of one who listen'd long, And oft before had heard his minstrelsy. All pleasant sounds in nature soothingly Sent gladness glowing to her secret soul ; Wild waterfall, the plaintive pine, and bird and bee To Marie like enchanted voices stole : While air, apt angel harp, breath'd softly through the whole. x. A robust figure of a middling hight, With violet eyes and wavy dark brown hair ; A face that in repose, to human sight Gave little token of the spirit there ; But lit by love, was more than passing fair : A mind unconscious of its slumb'ring power ; A will that needed little to declare Its self-reliance in the darkest hour : Were Nature's gifts to Marie, rich in her rare dower [12] XI. One precious gift beside made glad her youth, A voice so purely ton'd, and high and clear, You would have deem'd that, strong in health and truth, Its owner lov'd its echo best to hear. O sweetest sound on earth and ever dear, The voice of mother or of maiden mild ! In joy or sorrow let it still be near To cheer and comfort Nature's lonely child, Restoring sunny summer for each winter wild. XII. 'Twas Saturday night, — the robin's tale of love Had ceased. The sun had set, and in the west His red and purple rays shot far above The horizon and the distant mount's bold crest. The church spire pointed to the home where blest And happy souls sing safely evermore ; And all around prefigur'd the calm rest The Christian longs for when his days are o'er. And surely, this frail life needs all that faith can store. XIII. Now toward the church the youthful choir repair, And father Brenner, and his daughter too ; The summer evening sounds and summer air Are winsome as a lover's words to woo. " O father, seem these sunsets not to you Like pictures, haply, of those realms on high, Where God will place in mansions ever new The cherish'd children of His charity, Redeem'd by Christ, made pure for heav'n's sanctity ? " [13] XIV. " I think that tones and colors, daughter dear, May in themselves be beautiful. The test Of their true worth lies in the hope sincere Which they inspire in any human breast, Be what is seen, or heard, or felt, confess'd In Nature or in Art ; and they are right Who view these scenes serene so mildly drest In hues of heaven, as preludes to the sight Of that abode of endless happiness and light." xv. Ascending the plateau where stands the pile Devoted to the service of Heav'n's King ; Pure, filial and paternal words beguile Their way while willing wisdom's ways to sing. It is a neat nor unsymmetric thing, This rural Gothic church with steeple high ; Its founders look'd with fond imagining On altar, organ, and on sacristy, And thought them all too poor for God's pure sleepless eye. XVI. Reclining 'gainst a sturdy oak near by, Stood Adam Ericsson ; broad shoulder'd he And tall, with smooth round face and mild brown eye, And brow of thought, and mien of modesty That well became his Northern ancestry. He taught in Annaville Academy, And played the organ with a skill so free, That his loved chum, Charles Brenner, truthfully Said, " Music was his mission, not Divinity." [14] XVII. " Good evening, Adam Ericsson, — the day Has left us with a beauty quite its own." Upon the organist's fair face alway A smile play'd when he heard the gentle tone Of Brenner's voice, by gracious accents known. "Good evening, friends," the Norseman quickly saicl,- " With scenes and souls like these who could be lone, Or mourn the loss of hours forever fled ? " And as he frankly spoke, he gently bowed his head. XVIII. " O young professor," Brenner said, " should not Your pliant pupils often thus be taught From heaven-lit views, that glimpses of their lot Are oft from Nature's book the soonest caught ? " " Indeed," said Adam, " 'tis my constant thought To seek like hours and hues, so seldom giv'n ; Since books with axioms and strict science fraught, Although they free the mind by error driv'n, Charm not their hearts, nor yield, alas ! one hope of heaven. XIX. " And more," responded Brenner : " in the young The love of beauty and of wonder pleads For frequent illustration. Eye and tongue With innocent delight proclaim their needs. Activity of mind and body feeds On well-set views of Nature's varied forms ; Her milder phases are of peace the seeds, While winds, and waves, and waterfalls and storms Arouse the soul whose faith in God's great goodness warms.' [15] XX. Engag'd in cordial converse thus, they join The choir assembled in the organ loft ; Soon sounds the instrument by touch divine, In heavenly harmonies that, changing oft, Eeveal the sweet surprises, loud and soft, Which sweetly charm the ear and calm the heart. listen, while the strain shall quickly waft Your soul to starry spheres, where sudden start In high accord, strange voices with angelic art. XXI. 'Tis well that in the church the organ be, The noblest instrument that man has made Wherewith to praise his God befittingly, Supporting human voices with its aid. Perversion of right usage is the trade Of some who touch it with profanity ; Defiling Sacred Art which is afraid To desecrate God's holy church thereby : Not so did Adam Ericsson his gifts apply. XXII. His opening prelude gave delight to all, Because inspired by a motive true ; No soul was fuller at its final fall Than Marie Brenner's ; and the singers too Sat mute, with sweetest joy emotions new, Intent upon the player's skill and eye. But Marie's reverie was rare to view, In that her practis'd ear and brain would try To catch the spirit of her master's melody. [16] XXIII. It was unconscious homage to his gift, And for his teaching in the school, at home, And ever where his mind might seek to lift Her thoughts from trifling things, and bid them roam In regions where, far from the dross and foam Of selfishness, a lovlier life appears ! Faith on his castle was the golden dome That lit his inner life and banish'd fears. Therefore is Marie pleas'd at what she sees and hears. XXIV. There is no perfect picture without shade, And light and beauty stand confess'd thereby ; The concords of sweet music without aid Of discords would be tame exceedingly. Close neighbors to our smiles fierce frowns do vie For mastery in the heated rounds of life ; Along with gracious words and courtesy Come harsh and grating sounds of human strife To lover and to maiden — more to man and wife ! xxv. Sole leader of the opposition, he, One black- eyed, curly-haired, audacious man, Is Nicholas Kitza, surely sworn to be Of general mischief alway in the van. Rich and rejective, cruel heart, his plan Is shrewdly bold, accompanied by smiles Of wicked condescension, deadlier than The more transparent rogue's innoxious wiles, Because his fulsome flattery wounds while it beguiles. [17] XXVI. Whose eye but Ritza's keenest to detect The shyness of the youthful singer's breast ? Whose honied words but Ritza's could reflect A heart not pleas'd but ever in unrest ? "Divine performance ! " quoth he, half in jest, To Marie, as the organist then ceas'd, — " But grandest instrument of man ne'er blest The human soul like woman's voice, increas'd To sweet perfection — therefore sing ! — give us a feast ! " XXVII. " Petition more sincere I might have heard, O Nicholas Ritza ! But I will obey, If Ericsson accede." The touching word Had scarce escaped her lips, when, like a ray Of sudden joy through isolated way Shone forth the light from Ericsson's brown eye. He had not in his heart to say her nay, And chose some music of his own to try : A psalm of David fill'd with sweet serenity. XXVIII. " The Lord is merciful and gracious," sung In keeping with the psalmist's penitence ; The cultur'd voice was heard ; the facile tongue Made ev'ry word distinct with confidence ; — A canon musical, instinct with sense. Parental teaching and preceptor's drill, The psalmist's words, her own intelligence, All, all combined to give the artistic thrill, And shape the perfect rendering to her own will. [18] XXIX. O how and where shall woman fitly praise Her Maker for His priceless gifts to her ? Shall not her higher, purer powers raise In church new joy for each true worshiper? Then let the bigot in his rage prefer The rude inflections of the untutor'd voice ; He will not cause one humble soul to stir In cordial feeling with his meaner choice, Nor bid the cultur'd mind in happier thoughts rejoice. xxx. So Brenner thought, rapt, list'ning, while he drew True comfort from each word of David's song ; So thought the organist with pride as new As when, at first, his pupil could prolong A phrase of music on her thrilling tongue ; So thought the ruthless Ritza, watching near, The look of fix'd repose that lasted long Upon the faces of the choir, whose clear Appreciation of her song gave Marie cheer. XXXI. " Bravo ! bravissimo ! my Ericsson : Take the sincere salute which now I fling With a new joy to you ; for surely none But Marie Brenner could your music sing With a more soulful voice of truest ring. You are the new Bellini born to be, And Marie is the Garcia who could bring New shading to that master's melody." 'Twas thus the facile Ritza spoke complacently. [19] XXXII. " It was not my design to imitate The style of that true son of Art Divine ; My taste and study rather more relate To older and severer schools ; in fine, To Harmony's strict treatment I incline. 'Twas Marie's skill," said Adam, " which restor'd The charm'd and emphasiz'd result, not mine. So, Ritza, sing with David's sacred word : ' My song shall alway of Thy kindness be, Lord.' " XXXIII. Now Ritza lik'd not Mendelssohn. His tone, A tenor true, but little train'd by art, By sweetness less than power it was known, And gain'd small triumph e'en with Marie's part. O slightly touch'd he the capricious heart Of man or maiden, though he sang with zeal ; The one pronounced him bold, the other smart ; No self-abandonment in his appeal, While both confess'd his confidence, they fail'd to feel ! XXXIV. Was Ritza then discomfited ? O no ! Although small sympathy was given him ; He charg'd the faultless composition so With bitter words, and tried to trim His ruffl'd ringlets with an air so prim, You would have thought him Disraeli at ease, Although as lyric artist he was slim ! What loss to him if but his person pleas'd ? He could not be rebuk'd by taunts, nor yet be teas'd ! [20] XXXV. At length in choral by Sebastian Bach The singers join in firm full harmony ; To serious souls this is no time to mock Their Maker with a dull monotony. What ease in all the parts, and yet how free From trite progressions flows each melody ; A blessed foretaste of the joy to be, — Young men and maidens thus becomingly Strive fully now to praise their Maker cheerfully. XXXYI. The youthful choir retired. The lights put out, Its members homeward trod their nightly way ; To some the exercise brought thoughts devout, To other some the occasions of mere play. Bitza, inform'd, to Brenner dar'd to say : " Dear sir ! I dread to think your hopes are small, That future fame or fortune can repay Your daughter in her late directed call, To study for the Stage, exactor fierce to all." XXXVII. " I care not for the Stage," said Brenner, " save As truly it may show, high-wrought to me The Good, the Beautiful and True. When brave Stern Virtue reigns triumphant, and I see That Yice is punish'd most approvingly ; — Why should I doubt that Music in my child Will truly, innocently ask a free And cordial word upon a maiden mild, A friendly criticism upon Art undefil'd ? " [21] XXXVIII. " But time and money," fearless Ritza said, " Are call'd for, and the envious ones will sneer ; And the voracious critics must be fed. The Public, many-headed tyrant near, Will think of former fav'rites, and be queer In singling out her weaknesses, until The town, tenacious of its rights, will fear To accord the measure of its secret will : Thus may her hopes and yours be cheated of their fill." xxxix. " Not probable," said Brenner hopefully — " At least I will not think so, since I know That nothing in the realm of sound can be More touching to the heart of man below Than woman's trained voice, with words that flow In cheery cadence with her mind's best thought. It is pure crystal on a flake of snow ; Or crimson cloud at sunset fully wrought To point us toward a heaven but dimly, faintly sought ! " XL. These words upon the ear full sweetly fell Of Ericsson and Marie, close at hand ; Ritza, reveal'd in dubious light, could tell Of trials, traitors, hypocrites as bland As mild May morning, but who could not stand The test of time and trouble — false alway ! " Good night ! " said Brenner with calm self-command ; " Good night ! " said Marie, lingering like a ray Of starlight to the lovers, and "Adieu!" said they. [22] XLI. Now Ericsson and Ritza tramp alone Beneath the shining of the silent stars ; The tender little toads and crickets own In gleesome roundelay of endless bars, The gentle gladness of a song which mars No present human thought nor human deed. But tireless in its tune, it never jars The youthful heart that faints not in its need, But quickens while it lightens both the lovers' speed. XLII. " Of Marie Brenner's voice what think you now ? " Asked Ritza, hastening on his homeward way ; " It is a brilliant voice you will allow," Said Ericsson, " and with it many a lay Of love and duty she will sing, and play With deepest sentiment upon each heart Whose ear, and taste, and sympathy shall weigh Her gifts in close detail, and ne'er depart In judgment of the whole, from Justice crowning Art." XLIII. But Ritza, heedless of the master's word, Still doubted, and repeated in cool strain : " And have you firmest faith she will be heard With favor by the public, who obtain New joy in young hopes blasted, and remain The patrons of old pets ? " " Relentless man ! Sighed Ericsson, " I pray you to refrain From hasty judgment and dissuading ban, Until with ardor Marie shall disclose her plan." [23] XLIV. " My pupil has rare gifts that to my mind Kank higher than devotion to her art ; A word for truth, and filial love as kind As ever cheer'd the noblest maiden's heart. Her music shall be strengthened at the start By traits which reign forever, and rejoice, And shall rejoice all audience taking part In the glad triumphs of her fresh young voice : Remembering which you shall applaud her for her choice/ XLV. " But Brenner has no wealth wherewith to meet The exactions of her training slow and long ; His airy castles built in moments sweet, Have shorter life than hath her fleetest song. And," added Ritza, head and heart both wrong, — " His eldest born and weakest of the three, Your friend, Charles Brenner, neither wise nor strong, Now lingers with a dread infirmity, Without one hope for earth or near futurity." XLVT. " Bitza, you err," said Adam tearfully, Charles Brenner is the soul of manly love. A bright young brother has he been to me, While his sad spirit leads to thoughts above. Heaven send the Comforter, Divinest Dove ! With bounteous blessings on his father's head ; A better man ne'er asked his God to approve Whate'er was faithful in the life he led : A loving, Christ-like life, of good men known and read." [24] XLVII. Ritza retorted not, but as he turn'd Toward home, express'd a weak and faint farewell Sullen he sought, while in his breast there burn'd Confusing thoughts he could not then dispel, To square by right the hopes he could not quell. It was a vain endeavor. Train'd to act In secret doubt of man, in spiteful spell, He car'd not if he either lov'd or lack'd : He was a law unto himself, instant in tact ! XLVIII. No pity in his heart for brother's loss, It was that brother's weakness, let him cry ! No cheering word for him who bears a cross Too heavy — let him bear it patiently ! Ah ! mateless man ! a coming hour shall try Thine impious pride, and summon thee to speak Why thou hast built thine own dread pillory ! Why thou consentest still in vain to seek For earthly happiness where all is cold and bleak ! XLIX. Not thus toward home did Ericsson proceed : Fill'd with new thoughts of Art and Beauty's glow. He thank'd anew his father that his need Of early treatment of the high and low Was true as good, and thought of long ago. Frank to a fault and courteous to all, On all a kindly smile would he bestow. With conscience clear, while quick at duty's call, He went where'er such duty's loyal line might fall. [25] L. He lov'd to see the expanding intellect Of younger students brighten'd by new bays ; He joy'd to talk with men of mark, erect In Art's high temple, 'neath Fame's sunniest rays. Seen over all a heavenly hand would raise Bright scenes of glory, to his soul the tie That binds true hearts in sympathy always, Through Harmony's holy, faithful ministry : And, link'd with love, longs for an immortality. MAI^IB BI^ENNBI^ PRIMA DONNA. * * * * " Then wilt thou not tie loth To leave this paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far." —John Milton, P. L., Book XII. CANTO SECOND. y fipJOW lies a pale yet steadfast student now, Oppress'd by weakness, and borne down by pain ; His blue eye lustreless, his clear white brow, Sad signs of dread disease, portend the wane Of Nature's powers, while man still aids in vain. Where is thy youthful fire, young Brenner, where The full fruition of thy college reign ? What though thy laurel wreath were well to wear, Thou shouldst have sooner paus'd, thy failing form to spare. [26] II. "Wrapt in the lore of the revered Past, With high ideal of the Present's need, The student shatter'd, found himself at last Too poorly furnish'd for the Future's deed. Preceptor, parent, pupil, all agreed A sound mind in a body sound should be ; But youthful brain long forced to exceed Its healthful equilibrium, shall see A drear decay, bent body, sad sterility ! in. It was a summer afternoon. The wind Blew softly toward the patient's pleasant room ; He look'd upon the river smooth to find A blessed emblem of the heavenly bloom He might enjoy through faith. Could he assume The gladd'ning glory of a higher state ? O thought of comfort and sweet scene to illume The long, last lingering of his final fate ! A Christian crowning of a life of love, not hate. IV. But doubts like demons cross'd his burning brain : " Why should I, mother, suffer slow decay For sins of ancestry ? Are not my pain And agony the penalty alway For my own sin ? " " They are, my son. To-day You suffer for yourself. But in the line Of life and accident of birth I may Engraft my fathers' sins as truly mine, And think God's law most human, and yet most divine." [27] " Repentance for my own sacl sin I feel," Said Charles, "but shall my forced tears fast flow For sins of the long Past ? Shall my appeal For mercy back to Eve's temptation go, And take in sins I can or cannot know ? " " But how escape ? " the tender mother said, " The curse is on us all — the primal woe — All who are by God's blessed bounty fed, He saves the soul, but leaves this body dark and dead." VI. Now Margaret Brenner and young Ericsson Appear ; the sister said : " Dear Charles, a friend." " Reviewing the old themes ? Fights fought and won 'Gainst sin and Satan ? " said Adam. " I lend," Said Charles, " small ear to any words which tend To set forth abstract sin ; but thoughts of mine On my forefathers' sins I cannot send Or banish to oblivion, or twine "With faintest ray of hope or happiness to shine." VII. " The justice of my God in sending me, "With feeble form into this whirling world, I question not. It is not hard to see The obvious cause in wisdom fully furl'd, Although the tempter oft his arrows huii'd And humbled me. My days and nights I gave To study, that new wealth might be impeaii'd In my mind's mint, that I might rightly save My reason for my faith when near'd the narrow grave." [28] VIII. " But when the sins of my forefathers lie In dim, and dread, bewildering array ; When through varieties of birth I try My race, and face the curse in every way, — How reconcile God's goodness with the day Of Last Account ? Can my poor lonely pain Avail aught to disturb the surer stay Of measures meant to wash out older stain ? Can my good Maker slay me for my fathers' gain ? " IX. " Far be it from Him ! " said Ericsson. " To doubt His goodness is to doubt your life. The earth And all created things might be shut out, — God's goodness still would be. Our later birth Is but the sign of man's eternal worth In His high view. Our souls, His living breath, Repose in bliss, and leave but dreary dearth For harass'd hopes and desolating death ; But live by faith in Heav'n's truth, our Saviour saith." " And more seems clear. Our known forefathers' sins One man's despair, another's joy of life ; The child's few days, while other long life wins ; One mind clear-eyed, another craz'd with strife ; And all the world with wrong and folly rife : These are the well-defm'd inquietudes Of sin and our low state. The sharpen'd knife Of reason, and the eye of faith in moods Of heav'n-born power shall scatter them in myriad broods." [29] XI. " If Satan bid you curse your God and die, Job-like still trust in Him, even though He slay ; If Science seek to know the reason why You still believe — bid Nature's wearier way And Science speed ; but God's eternal ray Of light and love, of beauty, justice crown'd With goodness and with power, shall still display His right to hold the second causes found In all creation, to His perfect will are bound." XII. " Go to the garden of Gethsemane ; Go to the cross" — "O friend!" said Charles, "forbear; I am a wretched man, and would not be More miserable : my offences wear Upon my spirit with a cruel care. Since God spar'd not the just for the unjust, How can the unjust live ? And will He spare My wand'ring soul from the unconscious dust, If in His blessed promises I place my trust ? " XIII. "A thousand times, beloved brother, aye! Pour out again thy penitential moan ; Thy God, thy Saviour hears thy filial cry, And will not crush thee in thy grief alone. Now minist'ring angels watch thee as their own, Elect of God, and candidate for heaven ; The Everlasting Arms are round thee thrown ; Thine Elder Brother death's dark door hath riven, And through Him endless immortality is given." [30] XIV. So spake the ardent Adam. Charles, resign'd, A moment motionless, then calmly spoke : " Where are the youthful hopes that came to bind My earlier tasks with manhood's heavier yoke ? How can I dare to wish for or invoke The aid of Heaven on manhood's later plans ? Or how rejoice my father's heart of oak, Or lighten labor for my mother's hands ? But God's high will be done, and not poor prostrate man's.' xv. His mother turn'd to hide a starting tear, His sister bathed his burning brow again ; While Ericsson stood watching like a seer, And sooth'd the sufferer with a deep amen. " Where is my father ? " And that father then Just gain'd the garden gate, with Marie near. They had been walking, and with thankful ken Survey'd each beauty of the river clear, And weigh'd the chances of a new and strange career. XVI. Who though those chances seem not near at hand. And grave dark doubts and hindrances appear ? A loving father's will and heart shall stand Protecting till is won the guerdon dear. A mother pleads against the task with fear ; A sister trembles at the public gaze ; A failing brother's protest fills the ear, And hints at danger in the drama's ways : But father, daughter plann'd for brighter, happier days. [31] XVII. Retiring to the music-room, the four Leave Charles and Marg'ret, and they urge a claim. Now Adam Ericsson essays once more To guard his pupil and her work from blame. " The higher forms of art alway the same, Reveal to me unbroken beauty's line ; To me the Greek can father all the fame Of numbering vibrations with the Nine, Whereof all later harmony is the sounding sign." XVIII. " Chaldean lore, Egyptian mystery, Assyrian grandeur and Phoenician zeal, Found in Hellenic hand the cunning key Which lock'd these treasures in one common weal, And bade all nature join Apollo's peal. In Pyramid, in Parthenon, in all The eye can see, ear hear, or heart can feel, A perfect concord reign'd, which seem'd to fall Like tones from Memnon's mouth at early morning call." XIX. " Then in the church a higher plane was found, From Jubal down to Miriam ; — stretching thence, To Deborah and Hannah, and the crown'd And daring David. But the change, immense From outward to the deeper inward sense ! From visible to the invisible : When Christian souls in prisons gave offence, By singing of deliverance from hell And man's devices through God's mighty miracle ! " [32] XX. " In caves and dens the Spirit calm'd each heart With fullest foretaste of a heav'n begun ; The cross, the pyre, the bloody ax, the smart Of persecutions direr than which none The world hath ever seen, were cast upon God's chosen ones. But mid the murderous roar Of fierce and clashing combatants, the sun Of faith shone clearly on their ebbing gore, And led them shouting joy unto the Heavenly Shore." XXI. " O true fulfillment of the Saviour's word ! O last pure act of pious constancy ! Shall kings still dally when the call is heard That lifts their thought toward God's infinity ? Hark ! 'tis a sound of Christian victory ! A Constantine, a Theodosius seen With numerous and rich array, will be The champions of the hated Nazarene ! Lord ! let them on Thy heavenly power forever lean." XXII. " See near and far the Christian spire and dome, Symbolic window and the marble nave : Hear from aloft a chant of heavenly home, Ambrosian-ton'd and prophet-voic'd to save. Sad soul, receive the gift thy Maker gave, ' And all that is within thee bless His name.' He will not leave thee in the silent grave, But send His angel with the fond acclaim : Hold fast the life for which thy sorrowing Saviour came.' " [33] XXIII. " Along the centuries that perennial word Cheer'd harrow'd human hearts unceasingly ; In church, at home, and ever where was heard The voice of prayer and praise, it left them free To stand and plead for Gospel liberty. With chant and choral none might dare defer To march and shield full faithfully, From Paynim power the holy sepulchre, Each one for Jesu's sake a willing worshiper." XXIV. " The peace and order which the Christian drew From secret study of his Master's will, Arous'd alway a holier hope to do Far more in His high honor, to fulfill An earlier promise, made with youthful thrill, To consecrate the whole of life to him. A Eaphael limn'd ; an Angelo to instill A love of heav'nly forms, charg'd to the brim Fair beauty's urn, while Palestrina roll'd his hymn." xxv. " While sounds that hymn, see ! one from Erfurt flies To spread its ringing radiance o'er his land ; Behold a Bach, whose technic finger ties The hand to chords that shall forever stand ! The imperial Handel with supreme command Now towers above the late and earlier one ; Dear father Haydn, and Mozart with wand Of magic point to weird Beethoven, lone And mysterious, near the master Mendelssohn." r 34i XXVI. " It is the grand procession of Tone-Kings, Whose music charms the cultur'd Christian ear: Strict music wedded to wise word which brings Soul comfort for the afflicted one to hear." And Adam paus'd. His retrospect sincere Brought clear conviction to each musing mind. Elias Brenner ever did revere The immortal masters ; and he fain would find A song to soothe a saclden'd son, in doubt confm'd. XXVII. Then Adam found the " Hear ye Israel," From the " Elijah," which his pupil sang ; With rare intent and energy did dwell On each succeeding phrase, until it rang As though a cherub might on seraph hang, To seek admission through the heav'nly gate Swift to the solace then the singer sprang — " Be not afraid ;" and from his low estate A brother breath'd his gratitude with sigh sedate. XXVIII. Once more a father ask'd for sympathy And prolongation of the genial hour ; His daughter, glad to give her ministry Of love, sang with a fresh and new-born power, " I know that my Kedeemer liveth :" — flower Of Handel pure and fragrant evermore. How like a calm and gracious evening shower Fell drops of melody in varied store, That left each list'ner with a full heart to adore. [351 XXIX. " Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life,"— a hymn In which all join with conscious penitence, Portends the evening's close, when twilight dim Shuts out the sunset's mild magnificence. The list'ning student, haply with a sense Of growing hopes, but torturing, burning pain, Prays for full faith and larger innocence ; His father, one with him in heart and brain, Gives outward utterance to his soul-felt needs again. xxx. " Lord God most merciful, and yet most true ! Regard with loving eye Thy children here ; Let not the world or Satan snatch the due Thy rightful Name demands. In every sphere Thou sendest blessings without number, ere Thy creatures know their deep significance ; Lead us to think and act that with a clear Firm heart we feel thy holy countenance Reviving our weak powers to new allegiance." XXXI. " Peace to a mother's warm fidelity! Peace to my daughters' duteous life of love ! Peace, Heavenly Father, in adversity, To him who hopes for blissful life above ; Spare him, if Thou be willing, till he prove A faithful servant in Thy holy way : And on our dearest friend, where'er he move, A special blessing wilt Thou hear me say : For our Redeemer's sake, God bless us all, we pray. [36] XXXII. That one most precious evening pass'd too soon, Yet not without the Spirit's touch of fire, Which flam'd forever as a priceless boon In souls enliven'd by the same desire. The morning brought a stronger will for higher And steadier purpose in each earthly task ; An unseen power which bade them all aspire To vict'ries which they had not dar'd to ask : No more they walk in darkness, living light to mask. XXXIII. The loving Adam bade them all farewell ; His field of duty lay 'mid other scenes ; By study only could he hope to dwell Securely where the Master call'd for means And place for worship, on which largely leans The Church. Faith without works is void and lost, And barren emptiness most surely weans The child of God from effort at large cost. He must acquirements make to win the sad sin-toss'd. xxxiv. While to the Sacred Word he thirsting bends In fullest force his best thoughts willingly ; His apt art-scholar, Marie Brenner, lends To Music all her soul would dare to be. " My cherish'd master, when you bid me see A holier beauty than in lovelorn lays Pervading heavenly harmony, — then free From youth's first thraldom, I would spend my days Impersonating this blest truth to human gaze." [37] XXXV. " There may be those who doubt my new resolve, There may come lovers who will seek my hand ; But trusty Time my secret will evolve, And leave me happy in my self-command. Let railers wait, and suitors fond demand No greater notice than civility, Should I ascend no higher than to land 'Mid those who foster faint ability, — Let the deserv'd reproach fall ever upon me." xxxvi. " My father's brother at the capital, "With ample wealth my future training bears : I go to-morrow, at this cheering call, Awaiting all his generous heart declares. But wheresoe'er I go, whatever cares May come, thine oft-repeated words shall be Like mercy music fill'd with golden airs Of gracious condescension unto me, Seal'd with a never-ending gratitude to thee." xxx VII. They parted. Ah ! in each vicissitude Of life, what comfort can a mortal know More dear than young hearts' precious plenitude Of thanks they ne'er forget, but swiftly show ? It is the teacher's chief delight below, It is the parent's joy by night and day ; The man of God by this in strength shall grow ; All angels smile when thankful children pray : And God himself is pleas'd with grateful souls alway. [38] XXXVIII. Transported to the city's noisy throng, In social station easy and secure : With a mix'd multitude oft borne along, Serene a lyric artiste may endure, When fortified by conscience white and pure. There is a strength in steady labor too, Which Satan seeing, stands a lame pursuer ; Repuls'd, unnerv'd in all he dares to do, He shrinks, then leaves with Belial and his callous crew. xxxix. Tito Marcello, from the seven-hill'd Eome, Maestro, leader, player soon ador'd, The school'd soprano as he did the home Of melody, his blest Italia. Stor'd With vivid mem'ries, charged with many a word Of true tradition in his mother tongue, He bade his scholar freshening rills to ford, And loftier hights to climb, until among The flexile-voiced queens of song she daily sung. XL. A rapid run from methods strict to free ; A sudden gathering in of richest gems ; A language laden with the melody That links the West with Orient diadems. A subtle scent of beauty which o'erwhelms The youthful heart with dreams of ecstasy ; Yet deems prosaic all that heart condemns, And owns the Present all the legacy That tropic time, and sky, and story guarantee. XLI. At every turn a beaded balustrade, And higher up a tower and parapet ; Beneath, a stream hid by the trees in shade, Whereon the stately swan ofttimes was set. Green groves not far, wherein a tangled net Of foliage harbor' d birds black, red and green, Whose song and plumage charm'd, like the coquette Who changes carriage, voice and eye to mean All that a lingering look, or word, or hand can glean. XLII. Yet in the church this foreign master saw The cause, the working, and the end of things ; That Father, Son and Spirit ever draw The hearts of men to Heav'n as on the wings Of angels, 'mid whose willing welcome rings A rapturous joy o'er sinners penitent ; Our Lady magnifies her Lord, and sings Of her blest state through mercy mildly lent ; And saints of every age live through a Saviour sent. XLIII. High Art its holiest efforts here achieved ; And poet, painter, sculptor sought to wed His work to Christian truth, and he believed No manlier motive could prevail instead. And touching Music, the full fountain-head Of all its inspiration, all its tune Arose within the church, and thence it spread By minstrel, maid, and harlequin, till soon They sang in mysteries, and clanc'd a rigadoon ! [40] XXIV. Whatever in nature wins by charging views ; Whate'er in art may captivate the eye ; Whate'er in fact or fancy one may choose To bring into poetic unity ; Heroic action, and the baffled lie ; Contending parties and triumphant truth; Malignant motive and warm charity ; The retrospect of age, the hope of youth ; All these and more may Music blend in rightful ruth. XLV. The curious critic sees no sense in this ; With him the pious anchorite agrees ; This one would rob the soul of many a bliss, While that lives but to suffer, not to please. The true conservative alone decrees That wise variety in life is sweet ; The bending branches of the tallest trees Present no two alike, yet make a meet And mantling mellow shade in fierce midsummer's heat. XLVI. Why should not mark'd and ever varying tone Convey to human ear what passion shows ? The twittering songsters of the torrid zone Make merry music where the lion goes. The tireless brooklet laughs as thunder flows Through resonant air pierc'd by electric force ; From cricket cry to elephantine throes, All nature heaves with new and strong resource- Pan's prototype of band and vocal intercourse. [41] XLVII. Precursors of the Opera ! Start not, Uncompromising Puritan ! Your child Will ask for new delights without the blot Of growing sympathy for sin and wild Delusions ; for young hearts were ne'er beguil'd By truthful pictures of our mortal span : Else were the Bible through defiance styl'd A harmful book, and under saintly ban ; Since man's fell ill is seen on every page we scan. XLYIII. So Tito talk'd, and conquer'd every doubt Of mother, brother, sister and of friend ; His pupil dreaded not the coming out, But hop'd and dream'd success unto the end. Excelling in a part which well would blend The tragic with the social element, She chose the impassion'd Norma, to contend With agonizing tone against the intent Of heartless man to ensnare and blast the innocent. XLIX. " A bold but fitting choice, and calling deep, ; Observed Marcello, " for sustain'd repose ; The Druid priestess with a soulful sweep, Appeals for mercy 'mid increasing woes. Who would not weep, and seek to interpose A sheltering arm for injur'd woman's breast, In manly effort against all her foes ? And lend a hope that yet in lasting rest, She might enjoy a happy home in regions blest?" [42] " You have the face, you have the form, and more, You have the voice and clear intelligence, Whereby the noble Norma, quick to pour Her piteous plaints, would charm each living sense, And change our mercy to love's redolence. I have the Pollio, in whose eager eye There lurks a dark and matchless impudence ; Whose tenor cleaves the distance like the cry Of Cossack or of Zouave fir'd with battle high !" LI. " A Eussian Hebrew, void of faith, once train'd This Pollio in all sinuous, wicked ways, Wherein no present God nor Christ was gain'd, But all was thoughtless, voiceless of his praise. Born out of time, and place, and proper days, This offspring of the patriarch Abraham, Accepted Nature in her every phase, And counted Revelation but a sham ; While in his daily walk he seem'd a guileless lamb." LII. " A winning wretch of atheistic drift Whose words had wreck'd his pupil in despair, But that I snatch'd him from the current swift That would have borne him to the vortex where In poison'd pools of pleasure he would dare To end a life all profitless and brief. To-morrow you shall see with what an air He'll sing, and walk, and talk, and act the chief Tenore at your coming debut with a bold belief." [43] Lin. The morrow came, and with it flying hours All glist'ning with a silver-lined light ; Marcello surely mov'd, and girt with powers Unusual, gave direction with delight. " Now Norma toward her Pollio I invite To closer sympathy : " — scarce had he said, When " Eitza ! " " Marie ! " in astonish'd sight, Burst from their lips, by anxious accents sped, Transfixing each as by a secret, sudden dread. LIV. A hurried greeting ! Then baton in hand, Marcello led his skill'd interpreters, The orchestra, — a chosen, brilliant band. In vivid union with each act that stirs The men of strings, and wood, and trumpeters, Till all seem'd charg'd with trembling harmonies, That cheer'd the heart with hope's swift couriers, And made it long for joys which quickly please, As eye, hand, lip and tongue the nimble note would seize. LV. One strain of mingled dignity and awe, That might have marshal'd Moses toward the land Of promise from the scorn'd Egyptian law, Fell on the ear. And the Arch Druid's hand Was rais'd toward heav'n, as with a look all bland He call'd for curses on the Roman name. Now fiery Pollio with disgrace would brand Barbaric hosts through quick defeat and shame ; While o'er unlawful love he burn'd perpetual flame. [44] LVI. A deft recitative, — and Norma sings The Casta Diva, melody divine ! Marcello, with a glance at score, now clings In tearful sympathy with every line. The players catch her welcome warbling to enshrine With all dear memories of youth and home — As if the lily and the eglantine Should join to perfume life where'er they roam, Or by the mountain side, or by the salt sea foam. LVII. O youth ! O Love ! O Melody ! O Life ! With what an endless chain you bind us here ! Yet are ye angels 'mid Earth's surging strife, Who stand as heav'nly sentinels to cheer. A father's early life shall re-appear In the young being who now sees his face ; Whose voice, and smile, and kindness with each year Shall of his former trials leave no trace, But color his last days with hues of heavn'ly grace. LVIII. The light of beauty, and the soft repose Of graceful women prais'd by cultur'd men, Pervaded the fill'd house ; and serried vows Of dainty dilletanti, list'ning then, Vouchsaf'd their choice applause impulsive, when " A new creation of the Tragic Muse ! " These critics cried ; and straightway with the pen Announc'd a matchless Norma as the news Which morning, myriad-tongued, to millions must diffuse. [45] LIX. And Ritza's Pollio ! Importunate, And proud as Caesar at the Rubicon ; He urg'd an Adalgisa to her fate With all the ardor of Napoleon. Not brave Miltiades at Marathon Withstood the charges of the Persian host With a more kingly front than did this son Of Mercury the threat of Norma, most Repentant and seraphic at her dying post. LX. And Marie Brenner sings in other lands, And other roles essays successfully ; Where King or Kaiser, Queen or Prince commands, Alike she wins her place enchantingly ; With regal honors clad, come cordially The gold, the jewels, infinite largess, From genial gentry and nobility ; Until, returning her fair home to bless, There seems no limit to her earthly happiness. LXI. Time brings slight change in quiet Annaville, Save to increase the father's old estate, Which, chang'd, improv'd through Marie's generous will, Grows far more brightly than at earlier date. Still runs the river gladly to the sea ; The birds in Spring by larger numbers mate, And sing their songs with fuller, merrier glee, While o'er the villa yet the elm waves gracefully. [46] LXII. But sister Margaret wedded Ericsson, The man of God and rector now ordain'd ; And Brenner smiled with fresh delight upon A bright-eyed darling boy who daily reign'd A king in his strong arms, where peace remain'd. A mother sigh'd, although her eldest born Kedeem'd and happy, paradise had gained ; And Marie whisper'd of the lone hearts torn Which shall be gladden'd at the resurrection morn. :'0^m- : [47] JULIAN AND GONSTANTIUS, A. D. 3& Cantata for Men's Voices, composed for the Mendelssohn Union. Aria: Julian. ^EE the Python flee Apollo, Crush'd beneath a god's advances ! See Arion fleetly follow Where a dolphin seaward glances ! Music then was heaven-directed, Soothing everything to gladness, In a day when men affected By their love, forgot their sadness. Where are now the deeds of daring Hercules and Hector render'd, Who, for love and beauty caring, Ne'er to man or beast surrender'd ? Even Joshua's words revived us, Even David sang of glory ; Hebrew, Greek, yea both contrived us Scenes for many a song and story. Chorus. Hail ! Hail ! Aurora ! Thou heav'nly light that revealeth Charm'd rays to Flora, And ev'ry green plant that appealeth : Eye of Creation ! To all other eyes the fore-runner ! [51] Take our oblation, As the flower, the zephyr that won her. Hail ! Hail ! Diana ! In forest and field ever reigning ; Fertile Savanna, And mountain and covert regaining. Clymene calling, And thy Polydora attending ; Heav'n's music falling, All Nature her gladness is lending ! Aria : Julian : and Chorus. Mars, Mars forever Invincible hosts is commanding ! War endeth never, While Eight from the Wrong is demanding Trophies of vict'ry, And vows that shall never be broken : Gods ! then be ye nigh, Till Mars his last word shall have spoken. Becit: Constantius. O Julian ! I shall not measure swords, Nor take the chance of failure in the chase, Nor challenge higher love for nature's forms With thee, who art so near the plenitude Of intellect and culture. I rather breathe A simple prayer for the blest cause of peace ; For the sweet hope of life beyond the grave ; And for the dearer thought of seeing Him, My Lord and Master whom I serve. Gaunt war And all its cruel crimes may cease for aye ; The din of noisy pleasure may decline, And only milder, chaster joys remain. [52 J Aria: Constantius. Father ! the soft voice I heard Was heaven unto me ; My erring heart, then quickly stirr'd New homage paid to Thee. 1 cannot think, I cannot feel, Without Thy constant aid ; My very breath is but Thy seal Of life upon me laid. I came not here by mine own will, I shall not hence take leave, Without Thy Spirit near me still, To solace and relieve. Aria : Constantius : and Chorus. O Jesu ! Thou hast promis'd me The life that shall not cease ; That promise shall my soul set free, And bring unending peace. ■°-H 7 r ~^"' ■ -^ * eT" [78] m. O DAY OP LOVING MEMORIES Song for Decoration Dai/. DAY of loving memories ! S^x When hearts that mourn again unite £ In tenderness to strengthen ties Made holier by Time's rapid flight ! Years cannot change the sweet perfume Of lily, rose, forget-me-not ! The soldier's tomb shall therefore bloom With flowers to mark the sacred spot. if. O brave, dear souls whose early fate Secur'd our homes from with'ring blight ; Shall not the sav'd and grateful State Kemember long thy bloody fight ? Again bring flow'rs, bring sweetest now'rs To grace their green and honor' d graves ; Eest one day in the year's quick hours Where lilies bloom and cypress waves. [81] HI. When we are old, and times have chang'd, Our children shall the prayer renew, That on this day shall be arrang'd The stately line and floral view ; The line of living souls who feel That Heav'n is watching by their side ; While fragrant incense shall reveal The patriot's love for those who died. 5? (? 6 i '?§. I (s> e [82] ON HEADING FOUr? VOCALISTS DRESS'D IN CONTINENTAL COSTUME. <7jpHEY err who say our fathers are forgot ; Their names, their sacrifice, their noble deeds ; A. Where Liberty first planted deathless seeds, (uj Some hearts there are yet mark and love the spot. Whether at Lexington he falter' d not, Or bled, the martyr'd one, at Bunker Hill, Be sure, in after time his name shall fill Each minstrel's heart with joy, in every clime. Lo ! trimly clad in garb of those great days, They sing the song that prompts my humble praise. Yaliant young singers ! Ye recall the time When my brave grandsire march'd, and fought, and won ! Sing on ! sing often of that fiery prime When angels guarded our blest Washington. [85] AD F^AI^EM. |EAK Charles ! In whose blue eye there shineth yet The merry twinkle that our father had, Which lit our home through fortune good or bad Step back with me through paths where oft are set The forms and faces we can ne'er forget. I see them all ! O faithful memory ! Death cannot snatch thy constant guard o'er me ; The years pass by ; in tears and sad regret Through thee I summon all, and they appear ! We pass the beaver dam, the fragrant pines, And leave the cool, still woodland for the clear ; O'er fields of waving wheat and rye there shines The clearest summer sun of all the year ; And bird, and bee, and stream sing through our lines ! [89] ia«i mo KATIE, A Little Orphan. ATIE, winsome, motherless Sweet songs could sing ; *~*^?^ Sought a kiss, a soft caress, For everything ! II. Every motion full of grace, And every smile ; All her soul shone in her face In the meanwhile. in. In a quiet little grave Katie's asleep ; Where the fragrant cedars wave, And vigils keep. [93] IV. Like a flower that buds in June For quick decay ; Buds and blossoms, and too soon Passes away ! v. Thus her short and sorrowing days Sped full of truth ; Could not death have made delays, And left her youth ? VI. Father ! Let Thy will be done, Take her to Thee ; And when my short race is run, Remember me ! [94] -UF)1LDF;0 s^s&i CHILDHOOD MEMORIES i. REMEMBER the words and tune Of one sweet ballad that my mother used to sing, Looking up at the chaste full moon, While I sat 'neath the elm tree near the limpid spring It was in the glad time of June, And the evening pass'd sadly soon. II. I remember, that same elm tree Once held an artless singer whose clear ringing trill, In the morn at the hour of three, So pierc'd my soul by his silvery whippowil, That I whisper'd rejoicingly, God's angel is gladdening me ! III. I remember the grand old drum, So stoutly play'd through the village by blithesome John. When the Fourth of July had come ; How quickly cours'd the young blood of my heart, as on And afar I march'd, like some Undaunted General Thomas Thumb ! [97] IV. I remember the full voic'cl choir, Where Uncle William play'd the organ sweet and clear, And I turn'd me round to admire The lady in chinchilla hat, who rous'd my fear By her flashing eyes, while rising higher, She sang with a celestial fire. v. I remember the Easter Morn, When look'd the man of God so lovingly on all, That new and brighter faith was born, — To man's sad soul a perpetual festival ! And the choir sang anew that morn, Christ from the grave and death is torn. VI. I remember the evening psalm, W'hen the circle f orm'd around the pleasant fireside ; And I dwelt in the holy calm Which I hop'd, alas ! would forever there abide, Yet like a precious, healing balm, Comes back the thought of that evening psalm. t98] IF? s MEfflSRY OF mnp^mm it §»? ODE SUNG IN MEMORY OF WASHINGTON M. SMITH, Principal of Grammar School No. 35, New York. Solo. Hip RE we part, sad tribute pay To the treasure! past, When in life's sweet younger day Our good lot was cast "With the lov'd one, in these halls, Where his name yet gently falls, Where his voice still seems to say — "Dear disciple, come away." ( 'horns. Come, while yet the fire of youth Glistens in each eye ; Smile upon all heavenly truth, Truth that ne'er shall die. [ioi] n. Solo. Brother student, let the call Touch each glowing heart ; Let the still voice say to all, Act a nobler part. Pray, like him, for higher life, Strive, like him, with holier strife: — Hark ! his voice still seems to say — " Dear disciple, come away." Chorus. Come, while yet the fire of youth Glistens in each eye ; Smile upon all heavenly truth, Truth that ne'er shall die. £102] ^aj©; WHAN MY rpBAGHBI^ IS NO ME. Becited by MISS IDA AUSTIN. SEARCH tlie annals of the past, I Scan its leaders, first to last ; Patriarch, prophet, bard or sage, King or Czar in any age : Not one man among them all, Whom in vision I recall, May aspire, or dare to be What my teacher is to me. 11. I revere the pious man, Keep his counsel if I can ; Walking now in wisdom's ways, Thus I trust to pass my days. Czar, and King, and President Doubtless for our good are sent But in none of them I see What my teacher is to me. [105] m. The affection of my friend Wins me as with love I bend Toward the heart that's ever true, Praising all I say or do. But that friend with kindly thought, Loves me well, but chides me not ; Say, then, can that friend e'er be "What my teacher is to me ? IV. E'en a father's, mother's love, Hailing as from heaven above, May be blind to my desert, Or may flatter to my hurt. Shall I love them less for this ? No ! I answer with a kiss. How, then, can my parents be All my teacher is to me ? Only one Exemplar ripe Seems my teacher's prototype ; He avIio sees my mind and heart, Who can truth and grace impart. In such heavenly light I'll go, Faithful in my work below ; That to others I may be What my teacher is to me. [106] VI. Come then weal, or come then woe, Naught but gratitude I'll show ; Blessings on the Hand Divine Guiding me to learning's shrine ; Blessings on the men who stand To guard that shrine throughout the land ; May they bless all who may be What my teacher is to me. f ior 1 K^ETpnix ^ATTEI^S^IIili, ; £|| WAS morning, near high peak, and the ascent, Hf Five couples strong, (John Taylor in the seat As guide) betray'd no thought of swift retreat, j&^ But sang still upward with a glad intent ! The way zigzagging, with vast bowlders rent, Keveal'd new hills, bright streams, and fresh warm fields Whereon sleek cattle found what Nature yields In pastures sweet. Essaying, next we went On foot toward caves and fissures so forlorn, They seem'd to harbor ghouls and Calibans, Where Prosperos and Mirandas ne'er were born, Nor root nor branch show'd sign of human hands. A perpendicular pile, all bald and shorn Of leaf and limb, before us sternly stands ! II. Now at the south a sunny path appears, By which the sheep and shepherd wind their way ; And we, like lost sheep that have gone astray, Pass this Hill Difficulty without fears. A short hour more, and what salutes our ears ? One long ecstatic shout ! We gain the hight Where voice of triumph cheers the sunlit sight ! [mi The deep abyss in front the greeting hears, And answers with long echoes distant far; A holier breath of freedom nerves each soul,' As young eyes compass where blue mountains are, And see an eagle hastening to its goal. Nor cloud nor dimness might the valley mar As toward its home God bids the river roll. cM ni2] 1st f©wp. *m UPON UTHE DELAWARE. ;OME court the noisy Lackawax, Where heavy bowlders are ; But give to me more frequently The quiet Delaware. II. See where yon trains of dusty coal Come thundering from afar ; But Erie couples all, and flies Along the Delaware. in. The land of Perm is good for coal, And coal burns everywhere ; But enterprise and cash from York Still seek the Delaware. IV I stood upon the Hill of Snakes, But snakes I saw not there ; Nor boats upon the Lackawax, They were on Delaware. [115] v. Aunt Jane lives not on Lackawax, Yon could not find her there ; She lives a calm contented life Upon the Delaware. VI. And Laura with the laughing eyes, (A fascinating pair!) The Lackawaxen's banks would shun, And die on Delaware. VII. And father Holbert, how could he Resist his stopping where The Lackawaxen lost its voice Amid the Delaware. VIII. The greater must include the less, An axiom true and fair ; Therefore the Lackawaxen lost, Is found in Delaware. ~^SS^i o-Sg> [116] JP0D©© imm A HINDOO ARTIST. " I passed a number of houses illuminated for marriage festivities, and from one of them came the sound of a flute more shrill and piercing, I have no doubt, than any other flute in the world. Its tones were so intensely shrill as to become tangible. They were shot out of the windows like arrows, and whenever any one struck you, it was followed by a keen sense of pain. They flew whistling down the street, rattling against the walls, transfixing all civilized ears, and torturing all susceptible hearts. I shudder, even now, to think of the smarts I endured while passing that house.''— Bayard Taylor's Letters. I. flROULOU ^g> Now hide your mouth, estopp'd forever ! C And you, ' Siede and Eben ! now or never Give us your last trills. For sad vexation, Grim despair, yea, utter desolation Shall everlastingly betide the man That lightly blows 'gainst him of Hindostan. ii. In style Of faultless embouchitre, but one, John Kyle ! Might ever dare such race to run. But look you ! Where are e'en his dancing eyes, And curving red lips, cause of many sighs ! Frighten'd to paleness by this copper man, Yermilion-lipp'd, dark-eyed of Hindostan ! [119] III. To rouse Me, slumbering, hark ! a steam-car whistles ! And cows, With eyes dilate, rush into thistles ! But pierc'd by shriller tones, oh ! shriller far Than steam-blown whistles, or the clang of war 'Sdeath ! I am shot by tireless heathen man, Ear-missil'd through by him of Hindostan ! IV. Bombay, Seringapatam, and Ganges' shore, And they In warm Ceylon, may evermore Rejoice in thee, great artist! Barnum now Shall mourn for Christendom, that such as thou Shouldst waste thy strength, invulnerable man ! Upon the desert air of Hindostan. *^^Ewz?im+*- [120] : l ,- T"V#> tp ^on&no- THE SOPRANO. The soprano voice of woman is the perennial ripple on the sea of melody." — William Henry Fry. NVELOP'D in white, with her light hanging hair, This heroine stepp'd as though treading on air ; Her face was as fair as the lily in bloom, Her shining blue eye glanc'd on all in the room. The company listen'd, — the band broke suspense, And out gush'd the tones with a ravishing sense. O lov'd voice of woman ! In silence soon lost, Revive each sad soul with a new Pentecost ! II. Two dark dreamy eyes that in rest have sweet spells To transfix or to charm, like the gay gazelle's ; That new singer shone, in her moments of might, Like an Angel of Goodness presiding o'er Right. Each run and each trill, like the Light in the North, Would blend earth with heav'n as her soul sent them forth. Each cadence so brilliant, or soft in repose, That you sang with the stars, or dwelt with the rose. [123] III. Then forth came the queenly, mature in her art, Majestic in form, and confiding in heart ; Her face the clear mirror of pure inner thought — Her life had been toilsome, yet bravely she fought. How easy doth lie the fresh laurel on one Who, conquering all schools, is still fetter'd by none ; AVho can reign Queen of Song, yet most graciously, Reign as wife and as mother right royally ! IV. Though blonde or brunette, and though young or mature, Sing on, ye sweet singers, if but to assure The cold and the proud ones of earth that there lies In your beautiful art the work of the skies. I envy you nothing, I simply rejoice That I live to be near you, and hear your voice : Yoice of woman ! of heaven ! In silence soon lost, Revive each sad soul with a new Pentecost ! ri24] ¥ w fill nff- iAJ^lL/I^ mo AI^IBIi. S^EAB little sprite ! h\ Of form so light, Say, whither dost thou slily rove ? "• Dost fear to come, And be like some, Sweet being cherish'd, wing'd with love ? II. Ah ! why away ? Come, come and stay, And be my star of destiny ; I'll play with thee, I'll laugh with thee, So thou art near, what's care to me ? in. And Ariel said : " Near Flora's bed I live, and fly blue skies among ; I'm known afar, In earth and air, I'm sought by all, by old and young." [127] , iv. " And would you dwell Near hill or dell, Or by the gentle rivulet's side ? With heavenward eye, Bid trouble fly, With faith and hope to heaven we'll glide. *^ [138] Wm : lxm WEI^B I THE MOANING. From the German. ERE I the morning, Tremblingly dawning, Brightly adorning Sweet eyes of thine ; Softly upraising Thine eyes and gazing, I should be praising Smiles blent with mine. II. Were I the noonday, Warm rays should soon play On thy lips alway Love's litany ! Picturing ever My soul's endeavor, Treasur'd forever : "Remember me." [131] III. Were I the twilight, Wedded to starlight, Close into soft night My bird should sing In thy lone dwelling, Tenderly telling, With a charm'd quelling, " Forever cling." IV. Were I the night, love, Kissing my dear dove, Far in bliss above I'd dream of thee ; And I should gain soon A precious life boon ; And sing in true tune, " Dream thou of me. [132] 3B?r»ii IPO JOSEPHINE. From the German of F. Matthison. f THINK of thee, When tunefully The nightingales In groves sing tales. "When think' st of me ? II. I think of thee, Where soothingly Iu pale twilight Gush fountains bright. Where think'st of me ? III. I think of thee, As tremblingly My heart's sweet pain Sends tears like rain. How think'st of me ? [135] IV. O think of me Till joyfully We meet above ! Till then, my love. I'll think of thee. msmk L136] TT( fwTr rstt mi f\ n®mm HIBLL MB, DBAI^BSTF t.ELL me, clearest, ^ When thou nearest it My lmmble name, ' Unknown to fame, — My lot would'st share ? Thou dost not fear A home obscure, If but secure The voice of love alone to hear. II. Tell me, dearest, When thou hearest Of rank and gold, And titles old ; Dost wish to share in all their care ? Content to know Of gaudy show, While love may never cheer thee there ! [ 130 ] III. Tell me, dearest, When thou nearest Of dazzling eyes, Where beauty lies, Their secret sighs, say, could'st thou bear ? Ah ! when 'tis told, They soon grow cold, — Their beauty gone — can love be there ? IV. Tell me, dearest, When thou nearest My humble name, Unknown to fame, — My lot would'st share ? Thou dost not fear A home obscure, If but secure The voice of love alone to hear. [140] JFHE CHOSEN ONE, Suabian Volksmelodie. fpi OME, come, come, my dearest ; come, come, come, my dearest; Come, come, come, and sit thee by my side, love ; A I have so gladly thought of thee, I suffer ! QJ My dearest, come, come, come, and sit thee by my side, love. O so sweet and fair ! None with thee compare ; O with me remain, Till death part us twain. My dearest, come, come, come, &c. ii. Look, look, look, my dearest ; look, look, look, my dearest ; Look, look, look within mine eyes, mine eyes, love ; There canst thou see, my love, bright pictures shining ; My dearest, look, look, look within, within my eyes, love : Look not low nor high, But give me thine eye ; Come to my dear home, Thou wilt never roam. My dearest, look, look, look, The fields and the woods where I linger'd entranc'd ; The elm and the pine which in youthful endeavor I climbed till my eyes on the clear heav'n glanc'd. II. Farewell to the brook which o'er pebbles so gaily Ban laughingly down from the blue mountain spring ; Where I knelt with devotion and drank of it daily, And now to my mem'ry impulsively bring. in. Farewell, O farewell to the hearth where my mother Smil'd tenderly, sweetly on all who were there ; But chiefly on him, as on sister and brother, My noble old father, erect in his chair. IV. O life is not barren, if tears come unbidden, In thinking of hearts and of homes which were dear ; When life was all sunshine, and nothing was hidden Except the temptation to sin and to fear. [185] tl 9 ^IGP 1 i wl fe Boncs ipj #f» O BRIGHT BE THE THOUGHT. Written during Illness. BRIGHT be the thought in the night of my sorrow, That lights up the hours with sweet hope for the morrow 5 Let it shine on my soul as the star that of yore Pointed prophet-tongued magi to Christ evermore. ii. The labor of life inharmoniously blending "With querulous doubt, to despair is but tending ; Shall I barter my faith, and my new song of gladness, And heavenly peace, for such toiling in sadness ? in. 'T were worse than fatuity ! Madness impending Shall dim my mind's eye, ere my ear be caught lending A willing assent to fatal a treason, That gives me for Heaven the Goddess of Reason ! in. Be calm, then, my heart, in the faith that a mother First taught, under God : dare I ask for another ? Oh no ! for I saw when her last look was given, That look full of hope, full of peace and of heaven. [189] THE YOUNG G^USADEI^. After healing a Lecture on Mohaminedanism by liev. F. F. Ellinwood. •JpHE Red Cross Knight with men of might O'er Paynim hosts may tread ; But I will stay, secure each day Sustain'd by faith instead. I cannot wield in tent or field The Cceur de Lion's spear ; But I can seek by calling meek The Spirit's voice to hear. Then willing still, With hope I'll fill Each day and hour's vocation, Till, Lord of life, In holy strife, Through Thee I win salvation. ii. The Moslem band in Holy Land These eyes may never see ; But I can trace my dear Lord's face Through dark Gethsemane. The cimeter may flash in war, [193] By mosque and minaret ; I only see on Calvary My Lord is hanging yet ! Dear Lord in heaven, If I have striven To seek one consolation ; O let it be That I through Thee, May win my soul's salvation. m. Toward Mecca still the Turk shall kneel, On his false prophet call ; My heavenly gem Jerusalem To me is all in all. Sultan or Sheikh I do not like Nor houris nor harems ; My Mother's Lord and His true Word Command my noblest aims. Then willing still, With hope I'll fill Each day and hour's vocation ; Till, Lord of life, In holy strife, Through Thee I win salvation. IV. The Orient gleams with bloody streams, The Russian Czar is there ; Let Christian might defend the right, And save man everywhere. [194] But in my round of life is found The cross I daily raise ; My God ! arouse my soul to vows Of penitence and praise. While willing still, With hope I'll fill Each day and hour's vocation ; Till, Lord of life, In holy strife, Through Thee I win salvation. i 195 171 mm i™ , ippn MAI^IA AND THALIA. 1ABIA ! O supremely blest that name, Sweet Virgin Mother of the Only Son os^sm Of God ! Could greater joy descend upon A woman born, or light a purer flame Than the angel's voice which fill'd thy young life's aim ? The serpent's head is bruis'd by Him alone, Thy Heav'n -Sired Offspring, as in Eden shown, And man, through Him, shall rise from sinful shame. Thalia ! Virgin Muse ! Be ever near To light the way to sweetest nature's shrine ; Bid Harmony's joyful voice forever cheer All human hearts with charity divine, So may our lives be free from deathly fear, And with a light celestial ever shine. [199