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'■ ^^Tif) "»>: >'. 1 »>>'^:> ^^:^ ^^■i i*'^^ ^">^ ^^e> ^A^ -> ^ ^ 3?> 5>r: ^ »'VJ':JI>.^ y ~> > -r^ -^^>;<,15>' "i > T^"")f,))l> 3 3 -T^r^O ) > >^^ >^ ^ 1^. >> :> > ^ ► 0'J> > ^' ^,^j>; "> >'■ 3^^^ 'ZA T.':yS3 ■^ J3 ->3 "1 "•> ' :^ ^ * Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/oceanwavesinlyriOOscha OCEAN WAYES I N LYRIC STRAINS, A REaUIEM; AID OTHER POEMS. THE HERMIT OF ST. EIRENE. " yVhi/ should mortals seek Emotions to conceal, As if to be revealed were xcorse Than imcardly to feel?- ''^ PITTSBURGH, PA. PUBLISHED BY W. S. HAVEN, COR. MARKET AND SECOND STS. ^ 1850. ~m -e^ -1^ > . Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlio year 185G, by W. S. HAVEN, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Western District of Pennsylvania. TO MY FRIEND, P^LIZABETH OAKES SMITH IS KKSl'ECTFULLY AND AKI'ECTIONATP^L Y INSCRIBED. PREFACE. In bringing this little volume of Poems before the public, the author deems it necessary to state that they are not the effusions of an enthusiastic youth, but of a man who stands at the zenith of life. Independent of all religious sects and denominations into which \ the Christian Church is divided, independent of all philosophical / and theological isms of the day, he hails the Church of the Future — the Church of the Johannic Age — the aesthetic Church of Peace \ and Love, as the one which is to absorb the contending elements of I Peter and Paul. It is of little importance to the reader, to know, whether the effusions contained in this volume, belong to the subjective or objective school, provided the circumstances and actions described, be not inconsistent with the aim the author had in view. It is, perhaps, not out of place to state, that the author, being a Swiss by birth, and having received his education on the other side of the Atlantic, does not write in his mother tongue. At the age of twenty-eight, he was yet unacquainted with the language in which these Poems are written : But now, above his own, he loves the English tongue; His harp he cannot tune, except to English song. Pittsburgh, 1856. CONTENTS I. Ocean Waves in Lyric Strains — A Requiem — at the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. 1. Darkness, 9 2. Twilight, 12 3. Light, 15 4. Consolina, IG 5. Rome and Geneva, 18 6. The Vision, 20 II. The Alpine Horn to the American Harp. 1 . Excelsior, 30 2. Athanatopsis, 3)^ 3. The Priestess of the Beautiful, :]G ITT. Hymn of Praise of the Crusaders, 80 IV. A Voice for the Fallen, 42 V. An Ode to Woman, 45 VT. Revenge, 4S Vlll CONTENTS. VIT. An Ode to Solitude, • 50 VIII. Irenion, in Search of Peace. — A Seautopsis, 51 IX. Alone! 84 X. To THE Hermit op St. Eirene — By Eulalie, 85 XI. The Hermit's Answer to Eulalie, 86 OCEAN WAYES. A EEaUIEM. AT THE MIDNIGHT MASS ON CHRISTMAS EVE. I. DARKNESS. . . . *' Venture to unmask Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there." Byron. The night is cold and gloomy ; The northwind's icy sway, From garden, field and meadow, Hath swept the green away ; And nature, deeply mourning, Is covered with a shroud; The sky appears in darkness, Veiled in an endless cloud. Still darker than the sky, there is within my soul A hue of gloom ohscuring every thought. The Star of Hope is set. — The world, from pole to pole, Hath not the home my heart in vain hath sought. The Past hath but regrets, — the Present but despair. And Future's golden dreams! . . . . 2 (9) 10 OCEAN WAVES. Alas ! tliey were so fair, So beauteous once ! My heart, my soul was filled with bliss, With Faith, with Hope, with Love ! . . . But why recall all this From memory's silent land? Enough! It is no more That Love or Hope can cheer anew my heart. Nay, nay ! — Their siren voice shall not, as oft before, Enchant my ear again with treach'rous art. Away, away ! I will — it shall — it must be dark Around my soul ! — obscure as Hell without a spark Of fire would be. . .... 'Tis sweet to muse at such an hour, To deem myself alone, — to wish, to long for power To curse and damn the world with its deceitful snares, To gnash my teeth in rage against my fate. And with satanic sneer defy the foe that dares To throw 'gainst me the gauntlet of his hate. Around me howls in fury The storm, o'er lake and wood; The leafless oaks are roaring As if, in angry mood, Tlieir Dryad were awakened From her lethargic sleep. To see the mighty billows Arising from the deep. Still wilder than the storm that roars o'er hills and waves, Within my gloomy soul a mournful tempest raves. The crushing weight of life yet longer to endure, r feel my courage lost. .... Hope can no more allure A REQUIEM. 11 The mariner whose ship is dashed against the rock, And in dismay he sinks beneath the wave. J|S * * * * * Oh Death ! Thou silent friend, that thou wouldst gently knock At my own door, to call me to the grav« ! That thou wouldst come and lead the weary wand'rer home! This joyless, desert world, through which I have to roam, Hath naught but grief, and pang, and bitterness for me, And in despair I deem : 'tis better not to he! ****** In vain ! ]N"o Death will come to free me from this life ; It visits him that doth not call for rest. What ails my soul ? "Why not compel it to arrive ? — How would it be ? — Perhaps it might be best — This night is cold — why not? — I may lie down to sleep And see no morn return. — There is no eye to weep The homeless stranger's fate. — And Death itself — they say, Is but an endless sleep that takes all pangs away. They say : there is no future Beyond the grave to gain. That Hell is a delusion Come from a priestly brain ; The dead are gone forever; I^one hath till now returned From yonder silent regions. The grave till yet hath spurned To answer for its victims. — Oh ! if it were so, What madness then to live and grieve and pine ? Lie down to sleep to wake no more ! There ends thy woe. 12 OCEAN WAVES. Oh world ! . . . . . . Begone ! I will, oh Death ! be thine. ****** 'Tis near the midnight hour — the time for silent muse. The storm seems by degrees its wrath and roar to lose. The wind now drives the clouds beyond horizon's bound. The stars again appear — and nature all around Seems willing soon herself to solemn rest to still, And Peace upon my snowy death-bed spread. Now, lo ! — The hour is near, — I feel an icy chill Pass through my veins, — my limbs, like heavy lead, Melt down into the ground, — my sight at once grows dim, And earth, and sky, and stars, and all begin to swim Confused before my drowsy eyes — now — all is dark — 'T is done ! . . Oh world ! . . fare . . . well . . my soul . . . II. TWILIGHT. Hark! Methinks I hear . . what's this? . . Where rings that doleful knell? 'Tis . . nay ! . . and yet it must be, yea! the parting bell. Did I not deem my listening sense was lost and gone Oh no ! . . . 'T'ls Christmas Eve Oh God ! What have I done? Arise! the bells are ringing In deep and solemn sound. They call to pray'r and worship The pious all around. A REQUIEM. 13 The Midnight Mass commences; Its grand majestic rites Give praise to the Eternal; The Holy One invites The faithful to His feast — and they in trembling awe And adoration sink before his throne. It is the night — they say — in which the shepherds saw The Angel who announced what God had done To save a fallen race from everlasting woe. ****** Oh, blest are they that can, in this life here below. Believe with simple heart, with Faith and Hope unmoved, This grand and thrilling tale by which, they say, is proved That there exists a God — a life beyond the grave ! But why should I then cease in this my trust to have ? Where is that Faith that once was shining in my soul? Where is that Hope, that Love ? — Hath then despair the whole Religion's strength and influence crushed? — There was a time In which my heart with feelings of delight And heavenly rapture thrilled. — I thought it was a crime To test or doubt the truth of Heaven's right To doom a soul to Hell s endless damnatmi s woe. I deemed 'twas God's own plan. Geneva taught me so.* And with obedient mind I said that God is Love In damning souls by millions, . . Lo ! am I to rove, * The Author was formerly a student at the Oratoire, in Geneva. 14 OCEAN WAVES. Here, with the skeptic, sneering On blasphemy's awful ground, Whilst yet within my hearing The distant bells resound ? Perplexing contradictions That agitate my mind, "Will you to doubt and madness My soul forever bind ? I must — I will arise — those solemn sounds recall From memory's depths, the first, the happy dream Of Love and bliss. Alas ! The Midnight Mass is all That yet, on my dark soul, may cast a beam Of Hope. The Midnight Mass ?— What is it then to thee ? Wert thou not taught in it a heathen rite to see ? Hast thou, unfaithful son, Geneva's tenets spurned? To Eome— to hateful Rome— thy heart and spirit turned? Nay! . . There was a time when youth and Hope were cheering With charming rapturous dreams my loving heart. An angel's gentle voice, in loveliness endearing Existence, life — then would to me impart Celestial bliss. — All nature, tinged in rosy hue. Appeared to my enchanted eyes; — the Heavens blue. The meadow's fragrant green, the flower's sweet perfume, The warbling bird, the murmuring brook, would all assume The Bweet, delightful charm which Love alone bestows On all the wealth of Earth's ephem'ral joys. A REQUIEM. 15 III. LIGHT. Oh Love ! Eternal stream that through the Heaven flows, What hliss within thy depths the soul enjoys! If Heaven is existing, In Heaven must he Love, A tie that links forever Departed souls above, — If there be life eternal Beyond the silent grave — If truth be in believing That God sent — men to save — His only Son into this world Oh then, confused In dust I sink before His holy throne. This mystery of Love which I in blasphemy abused, Adoring with amaze. — Oh then, Despair, . begone! But what is this ? — It must be true. My heart begins Again to thrill. The consciousness of all my sins. The guilty thought of self-destruction's woeful crime, The darkness of my soul is swept away. The time Of Faith and Hope returns. . . Oh God ! my God, forgive The madness of my thoughts! I feel Thou art, I feel that Thou art Love — that by Thy Love I live. Thy Peace again descends, into my heart. The storm hath ceased. My soul, serene as yonder sky. Is tranquil now. The clouds of gloom and sadness fly Away and sink beneath oblivion's silent waves. My thoughts are freed from chains in which despair as slaves 16 OCEAN WAVES. Had bound them to perdition's sinking wreck. . But here- I have arrived. — The temple's sacred walls are near. Oh solemn awe ! My soul is overwhelmed with fear. A holy shivering thrills in all my veins. — I hear The organ's lofty accents, The trumpet's mighty sound, Announce to all creation, That Peace for man is found. Hark ! now a thousand voices Are shouting from below: GLORIA IN EXCELSIS, ET GLORIA DEO ! IV. COJSTSOLIlSrA. "Requiem a3ternam dona illae!" What long and weary years have lapsed since first I heard Those holy anthems swell, on Christmas night, In Milan's lofty dome. My mind was then unstirred By gloomy thoughts. Within me all was light And Peace and Love. A virgin's — no ! an angel's eye, With tender glances, watched o'er all my steps. A tie Of true and pure affection bound her soul to mine, And all our thoughts, and words and feelings would combine In accords sweet as those of yon ^olian lyre. That gently linger on its whispering strings. When touched by evening's breeze. A pure and holy fire Was burning in our hearts, and on the wings A REQUIEM. 17 Of high ideal Love our raptured souls would rise To spheres ethereal, where earthly passion dies. * * * * * She was so fair, so tender, lovely, full of Love, Her thoughts so pure, as if angelic minds Had formed them first for her, — they were so far ahove The vain pursuits that one so often finds In woman's dreams. The world, with all its gilt and charm, Its heartless sneers, she thought, were but the soul to harm. Her dark and lonely bowers Of roses and jasmin, Her lovely, fragrant flowers, Her tender mandolin. Her dreams and songs and prayers, Her father's love and care. The silent chapel's altar, — Were all the world to her. Oh, what delight with her through orange groves to roam. To hear her silver voice, to breathe the air In which she lived, to see her reign within a home Where all appeared to watch with loving care Her steps, her words, her smiles, the glances of her eye, And would her least demands with rivalry obey ! Methought I lived within a fairy island's bounds, Or that my feet had reached Elysium's happy grounds. * * * * . * One night — 'twas Christmas Eve— we went to Milan's dome. Her hopes were mine ; still raised within the church of Rome To worship God in forms which I was taught to spurn, She loved the mystic rites, which called her thoughts to turn Towards the lofty Home of which her soul would dream. 18 OCEAN WAVES. I cared not for her ritee. Her God was Love, And Love was mine, — and from her eyes the heavenljbeam Of that eternal sun which is above The one, tliat gives to worlds its light and cheering rays — "Would fall on me — and then her voice in loving lays Would melt away, and make my heart with rapture thrill. * * * - * * Methinks — though years have gone — I hear them linger- ing still, In yonder old cathedral, The marble pillars stand As lofty palms, whose branches Appear to form a grand Majestic vault, — with arches In clouds of incense lost. Methought I heard the voices Of Heaven's mighty host Resound in hymns of praise to God's eternal love. >i: * * * * In silence there she knelt within the shade Of one exalted column, — t ' wards Heaven above Her eyes were cast, and though my faith forbade To bend my knees before a Roman altar's shrine, — A voice within my soul pronounced her rites — divine. V. ROME AND GENEVA. I always deemed (icneva's curse on art severe. It banislied grand embodied thoughts, which I revere, From all the temples built on Calvin's stern design, A REQUIEM. 19 And on their naked walls you even miss the sign Of Christ's redeeming grace — the emblematic Cross, The mighty sign that brought the heathen gods to toss And fall. ...... Immortal symbol of triumphant Love, Oh Cross! What wondrous deeds hast thou performed ! Archangels, saints, and all that dwell with God above Exalt in hymns thy vict'ries. Thou hast stormed And ground to worthless dust the adamantine walls Of man's own selfishness, — and through thy power falls That Self-God wrought by vain conceit and cunning art. That pantheistic snake that twists around the heart Of blind deluded dreamers — Is crushed to death by thee. * * * * Why then should Christ's disciples E«fuse the Cross to see Within His holy temples, The Cross that made them free ? — Oh Rome ! I cannot hate thee, For yet thou tellest me That Christ is God, Redeemer, — man's eternal Hope ! 'Tis true I will not kneel before thy shrines. Thy Pope Is not my priest, my Lord, the ruler of my soul. The haughty Vatican shall not my will control. Geneva ! thou my Alma Mater, shalt not see Thy son forsake his faith of former days. I love thee still, Geneva, — 'tis alone to tliee I owe my freedom. Priestly craft that sways 20 OCEAN WAVES. The minds of millions now, no longer dares to rule My own aspiring thoughts, that first, within thy school, Began to free themselves from human bond and chain, And through thy teachings all, I pioneered to gain A road to be my own, — and then to stand Unveiled, unmasked, unyoked, unbound against the foe. To crush and bruise his vile and fiendish hand That dares to foul the purest virgin's brow — and throw A selfish, poisoned, hell-brewed froth upon Religion'i name. Ye sneaking hypocrites ! that ceaselessly proclaim The tenets of your Lord in damning all who dare To think and march without your dry and scanty fare : Ye narrow hearted forgers Of God's own Holy Word, — Ye fanatic deceivers, That with the stake, the sword, "Will preach my God's Evangel — Depart! Accursed race ! Of Heaven's wrath ye're bearing The stigma on your face ! ****** VI. THE VISION. CURSE NOT! . . . . . Who's this? . . What words are whispered to my ear? Eternal God! . . . My Guardian Angel's voice I hear. I sec her clothed in white celestial robe appear. A REQUIEM. 21 I feel her hand placed gently on my brow. She* s here With me alone — yea ! her departed soul is near, Embodied in ethereal form that vies With her angelic beauty while below yet here On earth she lived. And now before my eyes The crowd, the temple with its pillars swim, and all Around me vanish, shadow-like, and seem to fall Beneath the ground. ..... Her seraph form, transfigured, shines In Heaven's glory. Now — behold ! her face inclines Towards my own. Meseems I feel an angel's kiss That makes my essence thrill with holy awe and bliss To mortal hearts unknown. .... 'T was thus on Christmas Eve, When leaving Milan's dome, she promised me, To come each year within the temple's walls, — to leave The Silent Land, — if Death should ever be Her fate before 'twere mine. . . . . Alas ! she is no more. Her soul hath gone to Heaven's distant, peaceful shore. ZfL «|C ?fC «)C 3|C 3|C But silence ! no ! . . . She 's leaning Here gently on my heart. Her fairy hand is pressing My own. She doth impart To me in hallowed breathings The air of life divine. Oh hush! Her voice in whispers Her thoughts to me consign : 22 OCEAN WAVES. Do thou not curse Within the halls Of Faith and Peace, Where vengeance falls, Whence pray'rs arise Towards the throne Of God on high, Who dwells alone In souls that love And pardon grant. * * * For there ahove, In Heaven's land, The Life is Love, And Love is all The air we hreathe. * * * Beloved soul ! That still beneath, On earth must dwell — K thou wilt roana And live with me. Within the Home Prepared for thee, ' Midst Saints above, Then here below Do naught but — love Thy friend — thy foe ! Let hatred, strife, A REQUIEM. 23 Be cast away ! Celestial Life Obeys the sway Of Ilim who orave Himself to foes — And from the grave Triumphant rose. And now He reigns, And evermore Will all the Saints Above adore In Him their God, Jehovah's Son, Who through His blood Hath Pardon won For all their sins. * * * Beloved one! A Life begins That ever flows, When Heaven's Sun Its rays bestows Upon thy soul. The Sun of Love Eevealeth all That there above, In Life divine, Is hidden still To mortal eyes. Wilt thou fulfill Thy Saviour's law? — 24 OCEAN WAVES. Oh ! then, let Love Dispel the awe Of fearing — God — Thy Judge to see ! FOR LOYE WILL GOD FOliEVER BE. Gently dawns the morning yonder, Through the windows stained in gold. Soon again from me asunder, Thou wilt live — but hear, behold Where in future thou shalt wander, Through this life on earth below; Listen, dear — no longer squander Strength on human teachings, no! Let Him alone Thy Master be. Whose loving tone Resounds to thee In tender, sweet. Melodious lay ! Do thou entreat Thy Saviour, — pray That he may Life To thee impart. The hidden Life Within thy heart! And like a child Approach Ilis throne ! He's loving, mild, To him alone Who Cometh near / A REQUIEM. 25 His mercy seat, With childly fear His hand to meet, For sole support. * * * In all distress. Do thou resort To Him ! — Confess Thy failings all. Thy weakness too, Thy sins withal To Him that through His pang and throe. With tender call To cast thy woe. Thy burdened soul On Him alone — Inviteth thee ! Let gloom begone. Let sadness flee, Let Peace serene Within thee dwell ! I shall — unseen — To guard thee well Thy angel be. My whispers will Unveil to thee, What hidden still In Heaven's life, Is there to see. Wilt thou revive, 2H OCEAN WAVES. Refresh thy soul In waters pure ? Wilt thou be whole? Oh then — secure My loving hand To lead thy own Towards the land Of Peace alone ! Peaceful zephyrs there will never Cease to whisper hymns of Love. Flowers bloom, exhale forever Sweet perfume within the grove, Where Immortals sing their praises, Where their glorious anthems swell, Where contention never rises. Peace and Love forever dwell. Beloved mine ! Wilt thou enjoy This Peace divine? Oh then — employ Thy strength to gain Immortal souls For yonder reign, Where Love inthralls The selfish wild And hating heart. * * * Be gentle, mild ! AVith Love impart Thy Saviour's will! Give wounded hearts A REQUIEM. 27 The balm to still Their pains — that darts Of grief — remorse, Have planted there ! Do thou enforce Thy brethren, here On earth below. Who preach the Word — To go and throw Aside the sword Of selfish strife ! For there above, No soul will thrive Without that Love That giveth Life. * * * The Church on high Is all alive ; ^o dogmas dry, IN'o splitting points. Are there discussed Amongst ^he Saints, And selfish dust Is swept away. * * * The Church of forms Will soon decay, The Church of Faith Will yield the way, The Church of Love Alone shall sway — 28 OCEAN WAVES. The faithful soul, The faithful heart. Shall Love control. * * * I must depart. Beloved — dear, Be cheerful now ! Receive yet here, On this thy brow, Thine angel's kiss ! Thy soul shall swell With holy bliss. ♦ * * ITow — fare thee well ! ****** She' s gone ! — I see her soar on yonder sunbeam, while Along with her, ministering angels glide. But lo ! They turn their eyes on me — they gently smile. In sainted halo shines my heavenly bride. And now — a sudden flash — a lightning opens wide The skies. — The sun, the stars — they roll away and hide Themselves before my eyes. Oh, glorious sight ! Behold The city of my God — with brilliant gates of gold ! The Seventh Heaven shows its splendor, and reveals To me its mysteries. Now my heart does swell With high aspiring tender Love, and feels As if evolving from its deepest cell, In clouds of incense were, — a thousand offerings pure Towards the throne on high, — to Him, who to secure Eternal Life to me, hath suffered on the Cross, A REQUIEM. 29 And snatched away my soul from everlasting loss. :)« * 5|« :|c * * Oh Christ, Redeemer, God ! I sink before Thy throne In tears ; to Thee, to Thee — I owe my Life alone. ^ ^ ^ ^ ?]C «]C My thoughts — at last — like waves now splash against the shore, But whisper still : My God is Love forevermore. THE ALPINE HORN TO THE ^MERIC_A.N^ HiS.Rt>, EXCELSIOR! Inscribtb to Jcnrg ^absfeorl^ 'SoriQitiiobs. Oh thou, Columbia'8 noble bard, Accept an Alpine youth's reward, That offers thee in English tongue Helvetia's son who read thy song: Excelsior ! Oh thanks ! To thee he owes the word. That oft in sadness would afford Relief to him, whom thou hast shown To sing in Albion's strains his own : Excelsior ! EXCELSIOR. 31 A wand'ring youth that longed for rest And inward Peace, a soul oppressed By gloom, despair, would often hear A mystic sound, thy hallowed cheer : Excelsior! He heard a voice, an inward call, Amidst the deaf 'ning roar of all The world's enjoyments, pleasures vain, A voice repeat the sacred strain : Excelsior! To find its hidden sense, he went Thro' years of toil and lahor — spent — Alas ! in vain in human lore. The voice, it whispered evermore ; Excelsior! He sought in Love that Earth bestows, In beauty's eye where passion glows, In tender links, by friendship tied, In vain, — the voice forever cried : Excelsior! He sought in books and systems deep, To find the fruit of Peace to reap. In human wisdom, learning's store, But still his soul was called to soar Excelsior. 32 THE ALPINE HORN. He roamed 'midst nature's beauties all, On oceans, mountains, woods withal ; He dwelt on Alpine summits high, But still he heard a secret sigh : Excelsior ! On placid lakes, and brooks, and streams, He lulled himself to fairy dreams ; He heard where tranquil waters flow Again the strain in murmurs low: Excelsior ! And then he soared to yonder sky, To regions where the mortals fly. That pant for glory, laurels, fame. But still he heard a voice exclaim : Excelsior ! At last a spark of light divine Revealed to him the inward shrine. The temple where the Saints adore The God of Love, forevermore Excelsior! And there ho found the Peace he sought, The lofty truth that Jesus taught : That God is Love, and naught but Love, To man on earth, to Saint above. Excelsior. ATHANATOPSIS. 33 II. ATHANATOPSIS. Instribeb to William €nlhn §iignnt. "Oh Land! Oh Land! For all the broken-hearted, The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great Departed, Into the silent land." Longfellow. For him that walks in sadness here below, Whose soul in vain for lasting rest hath sought Amidst the world's allurements, pleasures, joys, — For him that, broken-hearted, weeps the ones He loved, who sleep beneath the ground — oh say! — Hast thou no words of comfort more sublime And cheering, when "the' silent halls of Death," Before his inward eye present their dark And solemn — still mysterious vaults? Hast thou N'o other balm to heal his woes, than strains Which leave but dark, uncertain mist within The soul ? Hath man no other doom than once "To be a brother to the insensible rock?" Oh say ! In what is he to trust when Death Shall summon him "to join the caravan That moves to that mysterious realm where each Shall take his chamber?" How can he "approach The grave like one that wraps about himself 34 THE ALPINE HORN. The drapery of his couch, and who lies down To pleasant dreams?" * Alas ! " The grave is deep And silent," t still an unknown land to him That never heard the sweet angelic tones — The heavenly melodies w^hich rise from depths Of rest, to linger through the shadowy groves Around the dwellings of the dead— the strains That call the outward eye to close, the soul To inward visions — glimpses into lands Celestial, where groves, and woods, and fields, With everlasting verdure clothed, exhale The air immortals breathe, and evermore The breeze of aromatic zephyrs sings The lays of Love undying. Grave — oh thou. Eternal gate of gardens beauteous, fair. Revealed to eyes that look beyond thy dark. Mysterious avenues, which lead to life That never ceaseth: thou, with cheering Hope, Dost still inspire the souls that long for Peace,— The souls that, rising far above the clouds Of earthly passions, seem alike the peaks Of Alpine chains, which look to skies serene, Whilst over plains and valleys still is spread A white, and cold, and misty ocean. Deatji : Oh peaceful Angel! thou that hast the keys ♦Lines from Bryant's Pocin, " Thanatopsis." f From tho German of Siilis: ''Das Grab ist tie/ and stilh'." ATHANATOPSIS. 35 To immortality's abodes, oh why Should man yet look with terror in thy face? Art thou a fiend to him that hopes to meet His own beloved ? Nay ! Thy gentle hand The faithful never dreads ; he knows that thou Wilt lead his steps to regions, where the ones That loved each other here on earth shall be United, nevermore to part. Oh bliss Unspeakable! There "no fate shall sever souls That nature destined for each other once," * And bitter tears no more shall fall on graves "Which separate the loving hearts. Oh there The life is Love eternal ; all is Love : The gushing spring, from which Immortals drink — The air they breathe — the food they live upon — The tender word they speak — the hymn they sing. Archangels stand before Elohim's throne. And Saints in high harmonious chorus praise His everlasting goodness, mercy. Love, In Christ revealed, the great Messiah. Man — Oh brother, come and raise, on wings of Faith, And Hope, and Love, thy soul to yonder halls. The vestibules of Peace eternal 1 There No Death shall frighten thee ; the grave appears No more the deep, unfathomed whirlpool wild. Whose fatal gulf will swallow all to loss. The grave to thee but gently opens wide The welcome portals of thy heavenly Home. * From Klopstock's Ode to Fanny. 36 THE ALPINE HORN. III. THE PRIESTESS OF THE BEAUTIFUL. Instribeb to €U^abetfe ^nhts ^init^. In Beauty's holy temple stands ^ A Priestess, noble, fair. The incense-flame of Love, her hands On sacred altars there, For years have stirred, and thus diffused Perfume — oh ! sweet and mild, Within a world to Love disused, A world of struggles wild. She tuned her harp to lofty lays — She sang of purest Love ; Her soul revealed the heavenly rays Of light, that from above Descends, to warm the human heart With sympathizing fire. That bids the selfish ice to part. And does with Love inspire. With Love for God and fellow-men, With Love for rich and poor. Her heart is ever glowing, when. Her sisters' woes to cure, She sings, in high celestial tone. The truth which few yet cheer: That man is not to snatch alone The fruit of Freedom here. i PRIESTESS OF THE BEAUTIFUL. She calls on woman's beauteous soul Of nobler things to dream, Than vain display and vogue's control, That fools alone esteem. She cheers her sisters all to take A high and lofty aim — At once from slumbers sloth to wake, And nobler boons to claim — Than those by man on her bestowed, To keep her like a toy — A slave of every apish mode — A slave — that must employ Her time in empty, foolish show. That in the soul destroys The high, enthusiastic glow For Beauty's hidden joys. Oh, woman ! Thousands bless thy name, For thou dost nobly try To call thy sisters from the shame Of slavery to fly. The heavenly life dost thou unveil, To mortals here below — A life of Love. — Oh, Priestess, hail ! To thee the lay we owe — A lay that shows what hidden stores Of bliss divine and joys. Will And the soul that Him adores ; Whose loving, tender voice 38 THE ALPINE HORN. Is heard in peaceful, holy strains, In depths within the heart ; Its accents call to thrill the veins And heavenly Peace impart. Oh, Priestess, hail to thee ! Thy lay That sings the "Sinless Child," Shall never let thy fame decay ; Its accents, sweet and mild. Shall lull the weary souls to dreams Of innocence and love — Shall lead the soul to hidden streams That flow from Heaven above. Oh, Priestess, hail ! To thee I owe The flame of inward fire. That often now, with sacred glow, Will me to song inspire. The Beautiful — its magic shrine — Its temple's halls — to me Hast thou revealed ; a light divine I have received from thee. And now I bless the One that sent From Beauty's temple high, A Priestess fair, by whose descent My soul was freed — to fly Excelsior, to regions blest, Where all is Love and Peace — Where souls, refreshed in springs — ^the best — To live shall never cease. HYMN OF PMISE OF THE CRUSADERS, AFTER THE CONQUEST OF JERUSALEM, IN 1099. The battle is over, The trumpet — hushed, The cross — triumphant, The crescent — crushed. And Allah's name is heard no more, At break of day, from Salem's walls. In Zion they again adore The Holy One, whose praise of yore Was heard within its sacred halls. But say, Avho is the man, the mighty hero, Whose arm hath slain the Moslem's host; Who humbled first Mahomet's mighty warriors, And won the land the Church had lost? Hark ! There ten thousand voices Repeat the shout, the glee; Jerusalem rejoices, Jerusalem is free ! De Bouillon's sword hath won her. 40 HYMN OF THE CRUSADERS. De Bouillon's praise we sing ; i)e Bouillon's arm hath conquered, De Bouillon be her king! Crusaders — come united, The holy grave to see ! Jerusalem, the city, Jerusalem is free ! Glory to God in the highest ! Glory to Jesus, his Son ! Hail to the Cross, the avenger ! Victory's praise it hath won. Hail to the Cross, the exalted Standard of legions, that swore Freedom to gain for the places, Where the Redeemer of yore Suffered, and died, and was buried, Whence He arose from the grave, Whence to the world His Evangel Went like the conquering wave, Throwing the heathenish idol Down from its tottering throne — Truth the Eternal proclaiming, God — is Jehovah alone ! From Gallia's shore De Bouillon came, To win the Christian hero's fame. To fight for Christian rights ; The laurel crown adorns his brow. The Virgin blest his sacred vow. In him the Church delights. HYMN OF THE CRUSADERS. 41 The pilgrim now to come is safe, To visit our Redeemer's grave, And cross the temple's sill ; On sacred spots his eyes can dwell, His voice to glorious anthems swell, And pray on Zion's hill. Gloria in excelsis ! Hallelujahs let us sing, To God's eternal mercy! Jehovah is our king, Elohim, the Almighty, The God whom we adore. Whose name shall be exalted, And praised for evermore ! The tyrant now hath left the land ; INTo more his sacrilegious hand Shall touch the altar here ; i^o more the Moslem's bloody sword Shall guard the grave of Christ our Lord, The faithful keep in fear. The morning greets in Palestine, With golden hues the sacred shrine, Belov'd by Christians all. A gently whispering zephyr seems To lull the soul to heavenly dreams, Which peaceful bliss recall. 42 A VOICE FOR THE FALLEN. Blest are the ones that have fallen Here in defense of the soil, Trodden hy Christ, His disciples, Once in the days of their toil. Happy the souls of the warriors Fallen on Palestine's ground! Peace and repose, the eternal, ^ow and forever, they've found. Glory to God in the highest ! Praise to the One we adore ! Brothers and noble Crusaders, Join in the anthem of yore: *' Glory to God in the highest! " Peace to the earth and to man, Grace, the divine, the triumphant. Ever since ages began ! A VOICE FOR THE FALLEN A fragment from "Magdalkn, the Outcast." Alas! a woman's fall is never With mercy treated here below. From sisters, friends, she is to sever Herself, to weep alone her woe. Her heart may break; in vain her gushing, Repentant tears may ever flow; Her sisters all unite the crushing. Condemning stone on her to throw. A VOICE FOR THE FALLEN. 43 I Tow long, my God, shall the world be despising ^Phe woman that fell, whilst the man is yet rising — Unblushing with shame — His head in the crowd ? And the villain is greeted By young and by old, and perhaps he is seated ' Midst women whose name Was never befouled by a scandalous passion ; Who, ever beneath the decorum of fashion, Are secretly frail. I know it, that thousands upon her are frowning, That thousands the garland of virtue is crowning, Whose life is a tale Of hidden corruption, of crime, tho' dissembling; They cast her away, the betrayed, that with trembling And penitent tone, Is craving for mercy. The outrage is crying To Heaven, that sees how the world, the belying, Will crush her alone — The one that hath fallen — a victim to sneaking And filthy entanglers — to reptiles yet seeking, But souls to destroy. Oh, curse on a world that is ever recoiling From helping the one that, degraded, is toiling To shun the decoy That hurls her to deeper and deeper depraving Corruption ! Oh, curse on the Church that from saving The fallen, disgraced. Is shrinking with haughty aversion — from lifting The woman that man, with his passion, was shifting To foulness abased ! 44 A VOICE FOR THE FALLEN. Curse on the scribe and the preacher, Treating with snarling contempt, Her, the unfortunate creature, Helpless in all her attempt Ever to rise from her station — Ever forsaken — forlorn ! Where is the Gospel's salvation Preached to the heart that is torn — Torn by remorse and compunction. Torn by the fangs of its shame ? Have they forgotten their function, Those that the Gospel proclaim ? Where are the preachers so daring. Here to the fallen to stoop ? Where are the ones who should, caring Still for the lost that would group — Round them with eager attention. Wishing to hear of the Word — Where? * * * * * * In the halls of contention. Angry dispute and discord ; There on dogmatics debating, Fighting as wolves in the wood ; Damning each other and hating, Tliorc they c mpoison the food — Destined for souls that are wishing Life to preserve in their veins. Preachers, oh dare yc, not blushing, Cover religion with stains — AN ODE TO WOMAN. 45 Poison, with hatred, the water Flowing from heavenly springs ? War by the Gospel ye rather Preach, than the Peace which it brings. Ever your Master betraying. Shunning His infinite Love, Ever his tenets belying. Dare ye to raise yet above Eyes that, with self-admiration. Dwell on your virtues — ^yoar own — Offering God, as oblation, Hearts to which Love is unknown ? Here, to the fallen, your Master Calls you, with thundering voice, Traitors, that dare yet to cast her Out from the Church of His choice ! Dare ye refuse, to repentance Pardon and mercy to grant? Christ ! Oh, Thy curse as their sentence, Ever their conscience shall haunt ! AN ODE TO WOMAN. 0, sexo enca?itador ! sin cuya benefica influencia nuestra ninez no tendria socorros, ni nuestra juventud placeres, ni nuestra vejez consuelos. * From a Spanish Novel. To thee, creation's noblest boon, that God On man bestowed, my harp shall bring *0h, enchanting sex, without whose beneficent influence our childhood would have no assistance, our youth no pleasure, and our old age no comfort ! 46 ANODETOWOMAN. Its humble off 'ring in a lay of praise, Of admiration, reverence and love. Oh, fairest thou, Oh woman ! What, without thy tender smile, The life of man would be ? A charmless one, Alike a path thro' dreary desert sands. In which no verdant flowry sights refresh The weary eye ; — Or like a torrent wild, that, gushing forth From dark and gloomy caves, with thund'ring roar Forever bids the gentle whisp'ring voice, Of zephyrs sweet, to hush ; or like the sky Forever veiled — In angry clouds that, roaring nature's curse Are threat'ning all with Death's destructive sway. Without thy sweet and lovely influence, man Becomes a heartless, selfish monster wild. Oh woman ! Thou With gentle voice dost bring the lion's wrath To naught, and like a docile lamb he comes To thee, and humbly listens to thy mild And loving accents, ever calling hearts To Peace and Love. Oh woman ! Ever shall my harp exalt And sing thy praise, proclaim thy sacred riglits, And call my brothers all to yield to thee And thy refining influence ; thou alone Wilt bring to Peace The wild contending elements that still Disgrace the world, the Church, religion's name ; And heavenly Love that God within thy soul AN ODE TO WOMAN. 4^ Implanted, once shall here on earth difFase Its fragrance pure ; And then, we all, as brothers, sisters will Enjoy celestial life. Oh, hail to thee, Oh day of Peace and Love ! When shall niy eye.s Behold thy glorious dawn ? How long, oh God ! Will selfish war And strife, the hell-born children, live and sway? **Thy kingdom come !" Arise, oh woman, hear The voice that calls in cheering tones thyself To stand against the tide of selfish rule I Thy station take. And fearlessly unfold the flag before The world, the banner bearing this device : " Oh, Peace on Earth shall dwell !" Oh, come implant The new Evangel's standard in the Church "Whose tott'ring walls Are threatened with destruction, ruin, decay ! Her sanctuaries have become the halls Of strife, contention, pestilence and Death. But thou, oh woman! canst restore to health, To life anew, To Peace and Love, the Church. Arise, arise. And let the beams of heavenly Love dispel The selfish mist that still obscures the Truth Of God ! My harp shall hail thy coming like The dawning day. 4.S KEVENGE REVENGE. When low and vulgar malice casts its frowns On thee, and ridicule thy effort crowns, Oh then, beware — allow not passions wild To rise within thy soul ! Of God a child, Remember thou the word so sweet and mild : Forgive ! When envy, hatred, try thy voice to hush. And all the world unites thy heart to crush, Derision, scorn is cast upon thy tear ; When all around will laugh at thee and sneer, I^et not thy soul be overawed with fear ! Forgive ! When foes, with strains profane, thy thoughts belie. And wish to lure thy voice to wrath's reply, Allow thy heart not bitterness to feel — Let not the blazing flame of scorn it steel. Engrave the pardoning word upon thy seal. Forgive I When false betraying friends, like Judas, smile Before thy face, and will to snares beguile Thyself — and then in secret schemes contrive To injure thee, and cast upon thy life A shadow, trying anger to revive, Forgive ! I will Ibrgive. My foes, begone ! In vain \'onr sneers, and bitter words, and strains profane REVENGE. 49 Have tried to stir the old satiric fire, That once with selfisli flame would me inspire, A gentle sound is ling'ring on my lyre : Forgive ! Oh, sweet Revenge ! My eye can shed a tear ; I need not blush of this — I do not fear The scoffing crowd, that play with sacred things. The wasps may try in me to plant their stings — A heavenly voice I hear, that ever sings: Forgive ! My harp is tuned no more for bitter lays — It shall no more recall of former days Sarcastic strains. My sole device is "Peace!" Its mission is not selfish pride to please. An inward voice to say doth never cease: Forgive ! Forgive ! Allow not vengeance thee to rule ; Against thy foes the arm of ridicule Do now not use, as oft thou didst before ! Forbearing Love shall dwell forevermore Within thy heart — if thou wilt God adore. Forgive ! Forgive and bear the Cross with patience mild! Endeavor thou to be of God a child ; And like the One that on the Cross, yet prayed For all His foes — for those that Him betrayed — To God His Father, blessing them. He said, Forgive ! 50 AN ODE TO SOLITUDE. AN ODE TO SOLITUDE. Oh, welcome halls of silent Peace, again I greet your vaults, the friends of childhood's years ! My soul begins to feel within your still And holy aisles at home. My heart by wild And raging tempests hurled from rock to rock — As oft it ventured on the stormy sea To sail — imaginary isles of bliss Amidst the world's enjoyments once to find — My heart is soothed, to calm restored, as soon As Solitude with gentle silence will Recall my soul to dreams of future life, To holy aspirations freed from chains Which worldly friendship's false betraying bonds Will cast around her soaring wings. Indifference, selfish pride, or prudish fear The loving heart will never find within Thy sweet embrace, oh Solitude ! No words Of strife and jealousy resound in wild And angry echoes here. The soul, alike The calm and sleeping waters in the bay, Enjoys her rest. IRENION, IN SEARCH OF PEACE A §lSAiy)T®IF>Sll§. "Du suchest Frieden ? Friede wohnt hier ! Fremdling, ira Herzen Wohnt er Dir, Tief in Dir ! " Herder. |rmi0ii, in §,mu\} a! ||Mte. Of man's contentions weary, rise my soul Above to spheres of Peace, and there converse With pure and sainted minds, bereft of spite And angry, selfish passion ! Hail to thee, Oh Land, unknown to hatred, rancor, strife, And vain dispute ! My heart at once begins To feel a mild and soothing, balmy breeze. That calmeth down the wild and stormy waves By man's deceitful, whining cant aroused. The false religious jargon, now in use To wrap in graceless forms the truth of God — I loathe. My soul, that pants for waters fresh, For loving, tender, sweet and peaceful strains, Hath wand'red through the world to find the home Of Peace and Beauty. Stilly alas ! in vain ! I spent the years of youth in mere pursuit Of shadows. Brilliant, fairy-like at first, Bewitching, graceful, lulling into dreams Of bliss and Love — to me they all appeared ; But — phantoms all — they were dissolved in mist And vanished ever — when my hand — to grasp IRENION, IN SEARCH OF PEACE. Their charming form — attempted, leaving stilL Within the soul, the secret longing thirst For lasting rest. I've seen the world, and more Of earth's and nature's beauties sweet or wild, Than thousand others ever will behold. In childhood reared in sight of Alpine peak? — Oh proud Helvetia! glorious, thou, my land. My own, my fatherland ! A lay of praise I will yet sing to thee. Thy name is dear To all thy sons — the sons of Freedom's home. The name of Tell, of Winkelried, de Flue, Yet fills my heart with pride to be a child Of thine, my own, my beauteous Switzerland ! My eyes yet shed a tear of Love for thee. But hark I Am I the first to sing thy praise In strains which I not learned within thy bounds ': Oh no ! Thy beauties have inspired yet more Than one of Albion's proud and manly sons. Oh Byron, Scott and Ilemans I who am I To soar with you toward Parnassus' peak — To mount the steed of Helicon on high, And dare like you the Delian tongue to speak. And rise to spheres in which immortals roam ? May pigmies then with mighty giants race V IRENION, IN SEARCH OF PEACE- ,)o May sparrows hope to reach the eagle's home, To soar with him in his exalted space, And dare the dazzling light of yonder sun to face ? Oh, how shall I my gratitude express To you — the sons of Albion's valiant sires — And Caledonia's worthy clans — address Helvetia's grateful lay ? The holy fires That burn within your Poets lofty souls Stir up but feeble flames within my own. Your bards whose fame hath reached the distant poles. Like suns arise to tell the stars : Begone 1 For we will rule the sky, the firmament, alone. 3. Ye noble bards who praised in Albion's tongue, In lofty strains my own, my native land. Who tuned your hai'ps to tell in thrilling song The legends old, the lore, and all the grand And cheering tales of my ancestors' strifes For Freedom's bliss — have thanks ! In tuneful lay Ye all have sung the brave tliat gave their lives To free their homes from wild oppression's sway, And kept their mighty foes for centuries at bay. And still they were not Swiss, they could not feel The pride, the love which all Helvetian hearts. From childhood's tender years, yet feel for thee — 56 IRENION, IN SEARCH OF PEACE. Oh Fatherland I-rThy own majestic Alps, Thy magic scenes, thy lakes and torrent streams, Forever leave a stamp within the minds Of all th}^ children. "N'one do love as we Thy lofty peaks and all thy beauteous sights. And none do weep as we when, far from home, We hear an Alpine strain recall thy charms. The "Eanz des Vaches" resounds to none so sweet. And none do feel its magic spell that calls To mem'ry all thy beauties. Land, oh Land Of Freedom ! yea — thy sons uplift their brows As freemen. Freedom smiles in maiden's look — And Freedom ! whisper streams to banks and lakes To shores, and Freedom ! roars the wind thro' woods And glens and valleys. Freedom ! thunders still The avalanche that falls from mountains high. Let Hellas boast of old Thermopyloe ! Let Rome exalt her Brutus, Coesar, all Her heroes ! Hark ! My native land can boast Of Sempach, Naefels, Morat, Gmnson, still St. Jacob's Swiss Thermopyl