^<^ jRMAA^i um .eD i-\f\x ^^ei, iJlC^ L^^il^ift&'^i^^^'-' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. "=5^ Shelf -.-Ess UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. POEMS DRAMATIC AND LYRIC BY CONSTANCE FAUNT LE ROY RUNCIE AUTHOR OF DIVINELY LED ^3 NEW YORK AND LONDON G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS ®;^e ^nicKcrbothcr ^rcss 1888 COPYRIGHT BY CONSTANCE FAUNT LE ROY RUNCIE Z887 Press of G. P. Putnam's Sons New York DEDICATED TO MY HUSBAND Rev. JAMES RUNCIE, D.D. To you I inscribe this little book. To you whose faithful love, noble example, and Christian virtues have made it a delight to be your wife. If any one shall reap pleasure in the perusal of these simple little poems, it shall be because to you I owe these happy years, which made it, under God, possible for me to have leisure in our married life, while in the midst of your own most busy and useful work. Constance Faunt Le Roy Runcie. Christ Church Rectory, X St. Joseph, Missouri. CONTENTS. PAGE Two Gifts — Poetry and Song i Anselmo, the Priest 3 Demetrius 11 Christ and the Soul . . 21 Deceived 23 The Woman He Loves .25 Silence and the Sea 28 Thy Lover 29 Prayer 31 I Have Let It Go 33 The Spanish Mother 35 Oh, to Be at Rest ! 43 Memory's Picture 45 Forgiveness 47 First Love 48 The Interpreter of Song 50 If I May 52 This Would I Do 54 Proud Anguish 56 Claudia 59 Whose Sin ? 65 V VI CONTENTS, PACK Greeting 73 I Hold My Heart So Still 75 A Simple Ballad 76 You AND I 80 Dove of Peace 82 The Flower Coquette 83 In the Woods 84 I Only Wait 86 Flowers 89 Alas ! 91 You Woke Me 92 Known unto God 93 Broken Friendship 98 TWO GIFTS. Poetry and Song. A star came falling from the sky, I caught the lovely thing ; It was a song sent from on high, Flashed from an angel's wing. From one of heaven's golden harps This little song came straying ; It stole into my very heart. As if I had been praying. Who sang it first, I do not know. Nor how it lost its way ; I only caught it to my heart. And whispered to it, "Stay." A dainty floweret at my feet, From out the ground came peeping. POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, Within the snow-white chaliced cup, A Poem lay there sleeping. 'T was sent to me from Mother Earth, By these most lovely hands ; I caught it to my heart of hearts. And heard its sweet demands. Who wrote it first, I do not know, Nor how it lost its way ; I found it in the flower's heart. And whispered to it, " Stay." No longer mine alone are these. This flower and this song, I give them as they came to me, To you they may belong. I only listened with my soul, I only loved them well, And plucked the flower as it grew, And saw the star that fell. Who sang — who wrote — I do not know. Nor how they lost their way ; I only caught them to my heart. And whispered to them, " Stay." ANSELMO, THE PRIEST. Scene — A Roman Catholic cathedral^ dimly lighted. Dress — The priest's robes. ANSELMO, THE PRIEST. With the shades of evening gathering around him— alone— in his dimly lighted and deserted church, Ansel- mo lies prostrate at the foot of the cross, writhing in spiritual agony. He speaks : " Shall I, a priest of God, live on in sin ? heart of mine, break, break, but own it not ; Thy vows remember ; consecrated soul, Accept the stripes laid on thee quivering hot. "It is too much ; too much is asked of me, 1 have no strength ; forgive, O mighty God ! For I am spent with oft repeated fasts, And faint beneath the chastening of thy rod. " I saw her here again, I always see her The lovely face that ever haunts me so ; 5 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRlC. *T was early Mass — were others here beside her ? Alas ! I saw but her ; I do not know. " Lo ! at the sacred cross I '11 kneel and pray ; It may be Christ, the Son of God, will hear, And drive the Devil from my hungry heart, And let me feel His Holy Presence near. " They tell me I can sing ; men praise my voice ; They say 't is rare, that people come to hear ; And once, when chanting through the aisle, we came Close where she sat, I saw her shed a tear. " So close were we my vestments touched her sleeve ; I thrilled with hottest joy, and walked on panting. Her lover ! yes ! although she only thought It was the priest absorbed in holy chanting. " O mercy. Lord ! — have mercy on my soul ! I am the priest ; shall I forget my vow ? I will do penance — fast — keep vigil — pray — If only I may claim thy help now, now. POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L VRIC. " For Satan comes ; I hear his whisper vile : Why this I *ve often thought before — yes, yes— That I might use this voice men call so grand, And win, with her, both honor and success. " Then I will go— I '11 fly this very night ! O eyes so dear ! O lips ! O form divine ! O ecstasy of bliss ! surpassing sweet The hope to win ! ye must — ye shall be mine ! " I must have fainted here, and lain all night Prone at the sacred feet on floor of stone. For I am giddy still — the early dawn Doth barely show me church, silent and lone. " This is a holy day ; the faithful soon Will come sins to confess ; I must within And hear the weary wrongs of souls, and then Absolve them from their heavy yoke of sin. " For I am still the priest ! Last night I dreamed ; Tho' faint and spent, tho' pitifully weak, POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LVRIC, No food shall pass my lips this day, no words Aught save my sacred office bids me speak. " This kind goeth not forth except men fast And pray ; then hear me while I fast and pray, Absolving me from sin. I will not leave These sacred walls upon this holy day. " But some one comes, some poor, sin-stricken soul. Who through the early dawn doth softly steal. And seeks in holy church confessional. On penitential stool to meekly kneel. " My daughter, what is this you would confess — A sinful love ? — (O heart, be still !) And he A priest you say ? — I stifle ! — help me breathe ! A priest ? Oh no, no, no, — this shall not be ! " This is a mortal sin, pray God, — I can No more — a sudden sickness hath come o'er, — Go ! daughter, go ! yet stay ! 't is mortal sin, Yet tell me which, which priest, I do implore ! POEMS, Dramatic and lVric. " Hush, whisper low his name, Father Anselmo, The pale and holy priest of God, whose voice Is more than seraph-sweet, whose glorious song Must make the angels, high in heaven, rejoice. " 'T is she ! my love ! — 't is she ! Anselmo I She loves me, her sweet lips have breathed it low ; I think my heart-strings break, I drink her breath, I cannot speak, — she must, in silence, go. " I hear her weeping — mercy ! — mercy, Christ ! How can I let her go ? One word, O Lord, To tell my love, I love ; — one little word, — Then take my heart and plunge thy flaming sword ! " She 's weeping still !— Ha ! — mercy, mercy ! O my love ! — O merciful Heaven, hear ! Help, help, help ! my heart is dying, O Christ ! How can I live and not kiss 'way that tear ? " Weep on, weep on, my heart is crucified, And nailed upon the cross, stabbed through and through ! 10 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. I cannot move, I am a priest of God, And to my sacred vows I will be true." ****** *T was yet scarce day when in the church came chanting The Orders holy — no other soul was there ; They, later, found their young and gifted brother Anselmo, dead in his confessional chair. DEMETRIUS. DRAMATIS PERSONiE. Philip — The Seco?id King of Macedonia. Demetrius— Z^^ Crown-Prince. Perses — Disinherited son of the king. Princess Zo^s.— Betrothed to Demetrius. The Gaoler. Time — In the reign of Philip II. of Macedonia. Scene — A prison with a couch of straw. Costume — Greek dress worn by royalty. DEMETRIUS. Demetrius — in Prison, I do not understand. Why am I here ? A prince of Macedonia in prison thrust ? Imperial Rome ! hath she a hand in this ? No — no — I will my king and father trust. He loves me ! Why, 't was but this very day I felt his large heart beat, and saw a tear Race down his cheek, as in his arms I lay Wrapped in a close embrace ; I will not fear, But sleep in peace. Yet, first I thank thee, gods, That once again I breathe my native air. Once more have felt my mother's gentle kiss. And met, once more, my love with golden hair. 13 14 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. It was a royal greeting they gave me, — My kingly sire upon his throne of state — While crowding round, in sumptuous attire, Were Macedonia's nobles, and her great. Then swore I knightly troth on bended knee, And took the oath of fealty to the crown ; And here again I swear I will be true, And live for country, honor, and renown ! This is my dungeon ; let me for the night Feel what it is in prison low to lie ; Should I become a king, I then may know. And spare unhappy souls brought here to die. Yes, I will rest me here ; this couch of straw Shall be to me a paradise of dreams : My Zoe, I will fondly think of thee, How in thine eyes the holy love-light gleams. Ha ! — hark, that grating noise — See ! in the lock The rusty key slow turns. It must be he, POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. 1 5 My father and my king — he loves me true, And comes at last to set Demetrius free. \Enter Perses.] Thou ! Perses ! Thou ! my brother, is it thou ? Where is the king ? Why send me from the ranks ? Our royal father waits ? — Come, let us go — Thou bringest my release ? Thanks, Perses, thanks. Why, what is this ? You wear no friendly smile. Am I, the prince, a prisoner of the state ? What means this, brother ? Speak ! and let me know What have I done deserving of this fate ? You tender me the cup ? Ha ! this means death ! The king decrees I shall drink this to-night ? My brother ! are you mad ? I — the prince, And Macedonia's heir ? — Hear I aright ? The king, my father, orders me to die ? 'T is 'gainst all nature ! Perses, with me bear, 1 6 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. For I am dazed — my poor brain reels — I know Not what I say — I — I stifle — give me air ! 'T is passed ! Hand me the cup ! This weakness ill Becomes the prince Rome taught self to deny. The king decrees ? Enough ! His wish is law, Go take this word : Demetrius will die. \Exit Perses.] He 's gone ! — I am alone and facing death : I will compose myself, kneel here and pray. Farewell to all this world holds dear to me ; king, farewell, thy son shall well obey. Now, who comes here in this my last sad hour ? Once more the bolt withdraws ! Oh, it must be. The king sends a reprieve ! — I live ! — I live ! 1 thank thee, God — 't is rapture to be free ! \Enter Princess Zoe.] Almighty powers ! Zoe — thou, love — thou ? Or is my brain all crazed, and I behold POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, ly An angel in my prison ? Not till now Did I know all the anguish hearts can hold. O love, love, love, why earnest my Zoe here ? Thou knowest I must die ; and now the pain How keen ! To see thee — hold thee — lose thee — Zoe, My heart must burst with this last cruel strain ! How can I die — ye gods — how can I die ? Go, Zoe, go ! my love, for dost thou stay, My heart pants with full life, and I forget Rome taught the son his father to obey. What 's this my Zoe whispers soft and low ? " Demetrius, fly ! O fly with me, my own I For I must die if thou art brought to death ; I cannot live and meet the world alone. " The gaoler has been won by me with gold, Haste ! haste ! in agony of soul, I pray. And, on my knees, beseech thee fly with me ; Demetrius, my love, haste, haste away." 1 8 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. Now may the gods on high give me the strength Enchantment to resist. This is mine hour Of mortal anguish. Zoe, my own, my sweet, Try not Demetrius beyond his power. Wouldst thou have me betray my princely word ? I promised to the king that I would die : But then ! just Heaven ! those tears burn up my soul. 'T is more than I can bear — I yield — I fly — The road, thou say'st, is free ? Come, Zoe, come ! How sweet thou art, how beautiful thine eyes ! O never breathed a truer soul than thine, And thou art mine ! O glory fit for skies ! But halt ! My heart cease thy full beat of life, And stab with pain no more, for I must die ; One kiss, my own, — go ! hide those tears from me, Lest I should yield again, and with thee fly. \_She S7iatches the cup and drinks^ O Gods ! stay, Zoe, stay ! what hast thou done ! Drank of that cup ? 'T is poison swift, 't is death — POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. 1 9 Help ! help ! she dies ! O gaoler, she is gone ! Didst hear ? She blessed me with her dying breath. \^She dies.'] Give me the cup — where pressed she her sweet lips ? Show me the spot, and on my knees I '11 drink — My Zoe — angel ! — thou hast died for me. And where thou goest thy lover will not shrink. So — I have drained the very last dark drop, And fiery serpents in my veins leap high : [^jEnUr the king^ Is this the king ? Too late — yet this is joy ! My father, on thy heart, now let me die. \pies:\ CHRIST AND THE SOUL. Not in mine own, but in thy strength, O Lord, Have I found peace. The fight was hard, and only thou dost know How hard — thou ! Then had I fainted, vanquished by my pain, When came release, And once more, Lord, I freely breathe again. And bare my brow Unto my life, and walk with upright step. Thou art my friend : I give thee smile for smile, and love for love. I will defend Thy holy cause, here on our earth 'mong men For me — defend My weak and sinful cause high up in heaven. Before my God, 22 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. And say : '' She fainted ; but the fight was hard, And she sore pressed." Then walk beside me nearer still, O Christ, And I am blest. DECEIVED. It died hard, this love of mine for thee ; 'T was long in dying. It took strong hands to break, at last, the stem Upon which grew The flower of my large and patient love. Men said of me : " This woman builds a castle of enchantment, In which she keeps Her friends, where they may walk in bright attire, All robed in virtues They do not own, — but her imagination Hangs about them." They said this thing of thee : " You think him good, Wholly unselfish ; You think him gentle, merciful, and kind, A very prince, 23 24 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, And full of noble gratitude, and far above A common man." Then smiled we both — they only in derision, I — in content And firm conviction that I knew the man. I knew you not. It was not you I loved, for you are selfish. Hard, and cold. Implacable, ungentle, and vindictive. I love you not, And yet — so strong, so firm was my affection, That, as I said, My love died hard — it took strong hands to kill. It now lies dead. And you are still yourself — 't is only I Who lose the friend. For whom I built so fair and rich a castle. The man lived not, Except in mine own mind, begot of God. THE WOMAN HE LOVES. Do you know why he loves this woman Apart from all the rest ? Because of the strong, deep beauty Her nature is possessed. Because of the shining soul That smiles from out her eyes, And the power of Truth's bright glory That on her forehead lies. Because deep in her heart So gentle a softness lives, That whomsoever offends, She still loves and forgives. Because light as a feather She takes the ills of life, 25 26 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. And when the stab must come, She hides away the knife. Dipping her brush in sunshine, The colors only choosing That paint life fair and bright ; The rest her soul refusing. Because of her bold free thought ; Unfettered by what man thinks, She takes the chain of prejudice And breaks apart the links. Because of her childlike faith. Which makes her strong and sure. Of Heaven — believing much, Then much she can endure. Because at the purest fountain Of love she drinks so deep, That she gives and takes unstinted The treasures others keep. Poems, drama tic and l yric, 27 Because of the moral grandeur Of her soul, that dares to be Itself, above man's law, Godlike, brave, and free. Because her words and actions Are all her very own. Not taking from those around her Their coloring and their tone. You know now why he loves her, Exalted above the rest. Why, holding fast her friendship, He counts himself so blest. SILENCE AND THE SEA. SONG.* The great sea rolls between us, And silence wide and deep, But my soul unto thine Its faithful troth doth keep. My love is like a flower That form and color hideth, And only by its fragrance You mark where it abideth. The night wind sighs around me, And blends its undertone With this my song I sing — I sing to thee alone. It tells thee I remember. It whispers thoughts of thee, Altho* there roll between us Deep silence and the sea. ^ Set to music by the author, 28 THY LOVER. More lovely to me art thou Than rose on thy breast, More precious to him who loves, Than gold of the West. I vow I cannot discern Twixt heaven and thee, Since lo ! gazing upward, thine eyes Are all that I see. I cannot tell if it be music Or only thy laugh. Whether thou smilest — or sun shines On my behalf. Bloweth the south wind low, Or is it thy touch ? 29 30 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. These tokens all tell thee, my sweet, I love thee so much. Did I pray, or was it thy whisper Shaking my soul ? Bringing me nearer to Heaven, And under control ? Did I dream, or was it an angel Leaving the skies ? Who borrowed thy lips and thy hair, Who borrowed thine eyes ? O I love thee, I love thee ! I love By night and by day. And had I a thousand more tongues 'T is all I should say. PRAYER. O lift me out of self, and out of passion, Let me forget to be at war with good. And like to them above, of purer fashion. The great — serene — angelic brotherhood. Am I cut to~the soul — misunderstood — Or fretted with the little things of life, Which daily rise a countless multitude, And daily cause me never ending strife ? And shall I grieve when wishes vainly perish, Or battle with this deeply wounded pride, With all the wrong it would in secret cherish, With all the bitterness it seeks to hide ? A thousand times O no ! These are not mine, But thine, O Christ ! Their burden killed, 31 32 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. And I live only when I give them thee, And with thy gracious peace, instead, are filled. A peace that was not mine by right of birth, O soul ! exchange quick with thy Lord ! for heaven He gives thee, haste ! give thine ills of earth. And lightly rise with this thy new soul-leaven. I HAVE LET IT GO. The dearest hope I had, At last, I 've let it go, I would not hold it longer. My trembling hands tho' loth, Unloosed their loving clasp, And fate becomes the stronger. I loved my idol so As woman-love Knows how to worship ever. It was not meant that I Should keep and hold this love, And so, at last, I sever Ties that bind me like The sinews of my heart. My very flesh and blood, 33 34 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRiC, Part of myself, almost My very life, I yield Because I know I should. And so — I 've let it go ; And now what shall I do To keep my heart from breaking ? Will knowing that I 've acted As my conscience speaks Prevent my soul from aching ? But no ! I will not ask ; Be quiet, trembling hands. That seek to clasp again The treasure so well loved. It may be Peace, at last, Shall take the place of Pain. THE SPANISH MOTHER. 35 Time — Durt?ig the Inquisition in Spain. Scene — In a dungeon. Costume — Spanish dress of a lady of high degree. 36 THE SPANISH MOTHER. At last, at last, O Christ, they bring me here. Give me the strength to triumph o'er my fears ; A woman weak who staggers — one, whose grief Has burned up in her heart and eyes all tears. I had a happy home where there was peace, And you — O my love — they *ve taken you ! In heaven only shall I meet again The husband God gave me, so brave and true. IVill not shrink — see ! see ! the marks are here Of their hot tongs which seared my poor wrists. Their dreadful torture lingers in my brain. Of how the heated iron burns and twists. No — no — I will not faint, but kneel down here And think of God ; perhaps, in spite of youth, 37 38 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. I may be firm — help purify his Church, And die, if needs I must, for God and truth. Can I forget that night, when, as we sat Close side by side, my husband's tender smile Sank in my heart, and low he spoke the words : "• Be strong, my own — 't is only for a while." And then they tore him from my clinging arms, To thrust him in a dungeon — tortured him — God — O God — I think I hear him cry. As on that dreadful wheel they broke each limb ! 1 shall go mad ! no, no, I must not think. But pray. Give, give me strength. Almighty God, That I may feel thine everlasting arms. That I may humbly kiss thy chastening rod ! And then my child ! Ha ! — I — I — I cannot breathe ! O that once more the bliss Were given me to see again my boy, And press upon his little lips one kiss. POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, 39 They come ! my Judges. Lo ! they come ! I hear the grating key. Now help me, Lord ! Give me the power that I resist their bribes, Let me defend thy pure and holy word. {Enter Child.] My child ! — my sweetest, sweetest darling child, Here, here, quick on my heart, my precious boy ! happy mother that I may again Kiss thee ! I thank them, thank them for this joy ! God bless them, bless their kind and friendly hearts That they give me my child back to my arms. 1 will pray for their souls ; my prison now Doth lose its ghastly, terrible alarms. What says my little Carlos ? Speak, my boy : " O mother, must I die when you can save ? For if you will but speak and tell the priests You love their holy church — I will be brave " And they will set us free, for they now send Me here to tell you this. O mother, fly ! 40 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. 'T is only to believe as they believe — And then we both go free ! O must we die ? " God ! mercy ! — Christ have mercy — mercy — They make me slay my child. Hear me pray. 1 am not strong enough for this — my lamb — Kiss me and live. My child I cannot slay. [Enter Priests — The Inquisitors.'] They come, they come, see, here I fall and kneel Before you, priests of God. O spare my child ! Take me — have mercy on my little one — Take me before my sorrow drives me wild. And lead me to the stake ! Here are my hands — Quick ! quick ! but spare my child, O spare him priests ! Slay, slay me ! burn me ! tear me limb from limb, But let my child go free. What ! are ye beasts That would kill children innocent and pure, And mangle their soft flesh ? O listen not THE SPANISH MOTHER. 4 1 To my wild words, but spare my only son, And throw me to the flames now scorching hot ! And you shall see I will not make a cry, But go with you ; my spirit shall not flinch. Ye priests of God, O let my child go free, Take me and let the fire burn inch by inch ! They drag my child away ! he calls his mother ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! kind priests — one kiss. The last, last kiss before my child is gone ! The door is shut — open ! — open ! — this — This is more than I can bear ! my baby ! — O Almighty God ! they '11 slay my child ! And I — I might have saved us both, one word ! But then ! — avaunt, Satan ! by thee beguiled, I would lose my own soul, and meet no more My sainted ones in heaven. O Lord, defend ! O God, sustain and give me strength that I May hold the truth until the last sad end. 42 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC, What *s this ? can I be dying ? Ah ! — my heart — Be with thy servant, Lord : this must be death : I thank thee — husband ! soon, my love, we meet I My God, I praise thee with my dying breath. \pies:\ / OH, TO BE AT REST. SONG.* Oh, to be at peace, Oh, to be at rest, Oh, to sleep at last. The long sleep of the blest ! Oh, to cease to weep. Oh, to cease the strife. Oh, to leave the weariness Of what we know of life ! Oh, to leave the tear. Oh, to leave the sigh. Oh, to wish no more Only the wish to die ! * Set to music by the author. 43 44 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. The aching heart at peace, The weary brain at rest, The tired hands but folded Over the empty breast. Away ! — only away ! Beholding God's dear face, With nothing but great peace, And everlasting grace. MEMORY'S PICTURE. My love came through the door, and lo ! Her very form and face, So purely simple, seemed to glow With new, peculiar grace. Her dress was black, and made of gauze. Which veiled but did not hide Her perfect arms, so softly white, They with the lily vied. The crimson flowers at her throat Were all the jewels worn. Except her eyes, which shone above With light that was love-born. She held within her graceful hands Her hat, which, hanging down, 45 46 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. Broke with its strings of ribbon bright The dead black of her gown. She was a picture standing there, Altho* she did not know it, My love, with earnest, truthful brow, My dreamer and my poet. I would have fallen at her feet, I could have worshipped there, So graceful in her flowing robes, But that I did not dare. I in my very soul and heart, Would paint her if I could, As coming through the door that night We saw her as she stood. FORGIVENESS. Because it is divine To know how to forgive, I '11 be divine, And wipe from out my troubled heart The memory of this sin of thine. Ah, yes ! I will forgive — But not of thy deserving ; Thou deservest nought, Except that I should hate this wrong To me and mine, that thou hast wrought. I will forgive as I Hope one day to be forgiven, And put away This human ache to hate thee most Intensely. I will forgive and pray. 47 FIRST LOVE. holy love ! O beautiful and sacred Love. The evening shadows stealing out To sea, or night-bloom of the skies, fall not More softly, than the breath of a first and holy Love upon the young and trembling heart. Unconscious first — Then as a dream, and then — The great awakening ! O moments fleeting ! O hour That cannot stay ! O youth ! O love ! O soul ! Never again to be the same ! Hast thou Laid this thy gift, thy gift unspeakable, Here at my feet ? For this, O friend, I thank thee. Thou crown'st me queen, indeed ; I am more fair Because I wear the jewel of thy first love. 1 will arise and purify myself. Will kneel and say unto my God : " My Father, 48 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, 49 Hold, hold me closer to thy heart, for I Would learn of thee, how I may meet and keep This noble treasure of a first, great love." And then into the quiet keeping of a Mighty trust, I will exalt, and place This priceless gift forever and forever. THE INTERPRETER OF SONG. He stands composed before them all, With grave, and serious air, A deep light burning in his eyes, The young face calm and fair. His hands are clasped as if in prayer, His chest is broadly thrown, The head is raised with dignity, As if it wore a crown ! Then part the lips in richest song, And majesty of tone ; He sings as if the melody Were all his very own. His soul is seeking for the truth, His voice with passion rings ; He thinks not of himself, but stands Creating as he sings. 50 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. 5i O glory of a life that can So nobly hearts allure, And win them, through the charm of song, To love the grand and pure. IF I MAY. PART FIRST. I will not take the joy which brings a sorrow, If I may, Put both away. I will not learn to love a smile, a voice, If glance and tone, Once mine alone. Shall in some hour lose all their strongest power. I will not choose that in my life may come The deep unrest, Tho' it were blest With joy ; for I would wish my soul should be As if asleep, If God will keep Me safe within his holy arms, and let Me never know 53 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, 53 The bitter woe Of what it means to say—" / must forget! PART SECOND. Yes ! I will welcome all, nor will refuse, Or joy, or pain, If I may gain. Through all the changing light and deepening shade, One step nearer. One hope dearer, That out of all my soul may rise the purer, And find the path, Which ever hath Brought them, who suffer, on their way the surer. Yes— give me all that I may be the richer. And may know Both joy and woe Shall only weave for me that brighter dress, Which I shall wear. When I may bear. Of God's own image, the divine impress. THIS WOULD I DO. If I were a rose, This would I do : I would lie upon the white neck of her I love, And let my life go out upon the fragrance Of her breath. If I were a star. This would I do : I would look deep down into her eyes, Into the eyes I love, and learn there How to shine. If I were a truth strong as the Eternal One, This would I do : I would live in her heart, in the heart I know so well, and Be at home. 54 Poems, dramatic and lyric. 55 If I were a sin, This would I do : I would fly far away, and tho' her soft hand In pity were stretched out, I would not stay, but fly. And leave her pure ! PROUD ANGUISH. Take away your hand From my life, Turn aside ! and so — Come no more ! You may go, and leave me To hide The heart you have bruised To the core. Take from me the sweet Cruel eyes, Take also the touch That can thrill. Go ! — leave me my life, Only leave me. Before the whole woman You kill. 56 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. J}^ You dared to look into Too closely The innermost shrine Of my soul ; You entered the " Holy of Holies " Not wearing the High-priestly stole. You felt not some places Are sacred, Your shoes you still kept On your feet, While Moses came walking Unsandaled, The burning-unburned Bush to meet. But you ! you trod On my heart ; Your hands were rough And were bold, You gave me the dross 58 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC Of your nature, While I gave you nothing But gold. Pass on ! only leave me To silence, That I may recover My breath, Awhile ere I go to My grave, Forgiving you only In death. CLAUDIA. An Historic Incident i?i the Life of the last of the Claudii. On sterile shore of some lone sea, Whose walls of granite rock, For ages fretted carelessly, The wild waves seemed to mock. Where cold and bleak the night wind blew, And sea-gull hoarsely screamed, And deeper still the shadows grew. And whiter the wave-crest gleamed. *T was there they laid the infant down Upon its cold, hard bed. Banished by her own father's frown, Who wished the child were dead. Rome's emperor he — a Claudii, Detested as a race, 59 6o POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. Now doomed his infant child to die, Its mother to disgrace. Urgalania she — who once as queen Had sat on Caesar's throne, Now driven forth with frantic spleen, To wander all alone. They tore the babe from out her arms, They drove her from the city. And Rome, once proud of all her charms, Now had for her no pity. Polybius bore the sleeping child Unto the lonely sea. Its innocence almost beguiled So hard a man as he. But Pallas, colder than the rocks. Marched swiftly by his side. The pity shown he sternly mocks Polybius fain would hide. And as they neared the fatal shore, All desolate and wild. Amid the ocean's ceaseless roar. They stripped the lovely child. POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. 6l And, naked, left it there to die Upon the cold hard stone. Beneath a wild tempestuous sky, Unheeded and alone. They turned them from the cruel spot, They strode in haste away ; Imperial Rome they once more sought ; The babe unnoticed lay. A princess born — of lofty line. The infant Claudia — she Whose royal birth had been the sign Of joy and revelry. The heavy night came closely down. The crested waves leapt high, The ocean's roar could scarcely drown That feeble wailing cry. And hours long this piteous moan Pierced the midnight air. But hushed at last the sobbing tone When morning dawned fair. As wide and bright o'er land and sea. Rushed up the radiant sun, 62 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. And, meeting death thus smilingly, There lay the little one. A marble statue full of grace, Colder than its bed, A smile of peace upon its face, It scarcely seemed dead. The glittering sunbeams lingered there To paint it with a blush, And kissing lips, and brow, and hair. Left over all a hush. But who is this with haggard face, With wild and frantic air. Searching in this lonely place For something she 's lost there ? *T is Urgalania, the mother — she Once Rome's imperial queen ! And wife of Claudius — he Of dark and hideous mien. She saw the babe upon the ground, She dashed upon her knees. CLAUDIA, 63 With gasping and half-choking sound The child she fain would seize. She clasped the cold form to her breast, She chafed both hands and feet, With eager lips she fondly pressed The limbs, to her, so sweet. But all in vain — all, all in vain. The little life had fled. And piercing to her maddened brain The thought came, it was dead. She fell upon her knees once more. She raised her hands on high. She cursed all Rome, from shore to shore. She cursed the Claudii. Then, springing up with sudden start, As if again to flee. She laid the child close on her heart. And leaped into the sea ! WHOSE SIN ? 65 Scene — The bedroom of a young girl. A coffin covered with flowers. Costumes — That of an old man, gray hair and beard. 66 WHOSE SIN ? Here leave me with my dead, I thank you all, You have been kind since my deep trouble came ; But yet of her now lying cold in death, To you her memory will be linked with shame. So I would be alone. . . . You have done well, And made my child look fair, with leaf and flower. Perhaps you shed some tears, yet in your minds A scornful thought against my child will lower. Yet, once again, I thank you — leave me now. Thank God ! they 've gone. Am I in truth alone ? I may kneel, now, and ask that for her sin. The loving Saviour's blood will sure atone. Yes ! I will kneel and lay my gray head down Beside the fairest face that ever smiled ; 67 68 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. So like her mother — she had the same blue eyes, The same soft hair, and brow so calm and mild. Oh ! well I do recall her wedding night, How sweet, how like a fairy — no thought of fear, She came down from this room in this same dress She now wears lying in her coffin drear. She blushed and smiled and hung around my neck ; "Oh ! how you '11 miss me, father," whispered she, " For all our lives together we have been. And oh ! you 've been so good, so kind to me." And then they told her it was time to go ; It seemed as tho' I must forever kiss her. *'Be good to this dear child," I said to him, " For oh ! my poor old heart will sorely miss her." Her husband— damn him ! curse him ! — broke her heart — He broke my child's poor heart — he struck her hands Which she held up before him, weeping sore ; He had no pity, but mocked at her demands. POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. 69 'T was then she asked the man of God to pray, For she had summoned us to hear her tale, Her husband, father, priest, on her poor knees She crouched before us trembling, wan and pale. " Father," she cried, " my father, plead for me. Husband, look not so stern, but hear me speak ; I know that I have sinned, I 've wronged you all, I ask for pardon ; husband, I was weak. " You left me all alone ; I was so young ; My heart craved love ; you did not see : Temptation came, you did not seem to care ; And so I fell — ah ! husband, pity me ! " For I repent — O God ! I do repent ! Say, say you can forgive me ; pray for me, pray ! Ah ! what is this ? My heart has stopped its beats ; Perhaps kind death may take this pain away." Then — as she held her poor beseeching hands Up to her husband, and so ceased to speak. 70 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. But hung upon his face to read forgiveness, With panting, bated breath and pallid cheek — He struck her down ! Ha ! I must have air ! — Devil ! beast ! Why I will kill him yet ! — He left her days alone ; did he not see Her heart was growing hard at his neglect ? She was so young, so used to being loved. Her husband — iron-stern — soon seemed to think She had no claim on him. Alas ! neglect Drove her, at last, beyond the fatal brink, And then she made confession — tender soul, And sinking 'neath his blow, fell on her face. I caught her to my heart, and let him go ; I loved my lamb the more in her disgrace. 'T was long ere she revived ; but when once more The life-blood blushed upon her lovely cheek, I held her to my heart, I stroked her hair ; She pressed her lips to mine, but did not speak. WHOSE SIN? yi Then slipping from my arms she came up here ; This was her room before her mother died, And after she was gone I kept it so, Exactly as she left it, happy bride. It was not very long, I heard a sound — A fatal sound — I knew it well. — With speed I flew up to my darling's room — too late ! O God, forgive my precious child this deed ! See had put on this dress she lies in now — Her bridal robe, with roses in her hair ; She looked as she had looked her wedding night. So young, so sweet, so sad, so still, and fair. With that death-wound straight through her broken heart. She left me all alone — how can I live ? Ha ! all grows dark — can this, can this be death ? O God, forgive my child — forgive, forgive ! 72 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. They found him kneeling by his daughter's bier, His gray hair straggling o'er her poor face ; Both wore the still cold smile of death ; Both went away to seek God's loving grace. GREETING. Dear love, we come in memory of your birth, Your wife, your children, and these your friends. To keep the feast with sweet and lively mirth, In gratitude to Him who birthdays sends. We know your deeds of loving kindness well, We know you have a heart that strong doth feel The beauty of that Gospel which you tell To us who, in the sanctuary, round you kneel. We know the little children on the street Wave you sweet kisses with their dimpled hands. And smiles of innocence and love do greet You on all sides from these gay childish hands. We know the sick and lonely long to hear The words of sympathy and lowly prayer 73 74 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. You bring to dying bedsides, dispelling fear, And teaching them the loving Father's care. We know the Poor who shiver without wood, Who see their children starving, come to you, Relying on your power to give them food, Because you act your Gospel, pure and true. We know the doubting Thomas doth also come, And feareth not that you hold up the rod. He knows your modest faith, tho' it be dumb In argument, clings closely to your God. And now who knows so well your silent worth As she, your wife, who here, with grateful pride. Calls in your friends, rejoicing that your birth Gave her the honor to be your chosen bride ! I HOLD MY HEART SO STILL. SONGJ I know that thou art God, I hold my heart so still, And say, between my tears, I yield me to thy will. My sins, I know, are many, I feel how weak I am, Saviour ! give to me, give thy blessed calm ! 1 do not wish to murmur, 1 hold me fast and still, I only ask to hide my tears, And know, O God, thy will. ' Set to music by the author. 7S A SIMPLE BALLAD. Before her father's cottage door, The children often played, Her eyes were blue, but his were black. And he loved the little maid. She grew in all her beauty wild, And sweetly could she sing : The people said, the world some day Would with her praises ring. They bade her kiss the neighbor-boy And say a long farewell ; They carried her o'er hills away, But still he loved her well. The summers came, the summers went, The winters brought their snow, 76 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. yy When forth to find the little maid, The neighbor-boy would go. His knapsack on his shoulder, His love deep in his heart, His black eyes glistening with the joy He felt, at last, to start. He came into a city great, He heard her sing again. She wore a dress of satin white, And roses looped her train. He stood without, the crowd was great, To see the Prima Donna, Beside her came a plumed knight, Who bore the cross of honor. She smiled with her eyes of blue Into his eyes of black, But knew him not and passed him by, A peasant with knapsack ! 78 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. The night was dark, the night was wild, The stars shone cold and clear. He wandered with his broken heart Off to mountains drear. He sat him down he cared not where, So cold was he and weary ; He fell asleep and dreamed a dream. So bright it was and cheery. The little maid and he together In church knelt side by side ; He was the happy bridegroom gay. And she the joyous bride. She wore a dress of satin white. And roses looped her train ; The organ rolled and upward bore Its glorious refrain. And then he woke — the mountains drear Rose up against the sky, POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRtC. f^ The night-wind pierced him to the soul, And bore away his cry : " O let me dream this dream again, This heavenly dream once more." And, smiling with his icy lips, He dreamed just as before. The snow came whirling down and down, The everlasting hills Stood round about the neighbor-boy, While icy darkness fills The air and sky. But never more The neighbor-boy would wake ; He sleepeth well, and still the heart That broke for her dear sake. YOU AND I. Friend ! when you felt the baleful ecstasy of power To make me feel, Why took you then my heart, to use it as a stone To sharpen steel ? You saw I was much moved at all you felt and said, And ever since It is with no fine sparing hand you wield the knife, And see me wince Beneath the glittering blade. Is this noble in you ? Is this a friend ? To be so stern, so hard ; to take a fault that 's mine. And not defend. But strip my woman's pride, which is a bridal veil, Unpitying take My sin and bear it quivering 'neath your ruthless eyes. And coldly make 80 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC, 8l Me say " 'T is mine." To you I would not, if I could, Ungentle be. Your fault I 'd take, and fathoms deep would hide it From the world and me ! ^h DOVE OF PEACE. SONG.' I would that the dove of Peace Might find her home in my breast, And, folding her gentle wings, Might make of my heart her nest. I would that I might not hear The complaining voice of my soul, Nor the thunder of the deep waters. As wave upon wave doth roll. I would that my feet might walk On the road that leadeth higher. Instead of standing and sinking Low down in the cruel mire. O God of my life ! come to me. And bless thy weary child ! In the palm of thine hand, O hide me, Quiet and reconciled ! ^ Set to music by the author. 82 THE FLOWER-COQUETTE. Do'st see this dainty flower ? Within her fragrant cup She lured a ray of sun-gold, And fairly used him up. She held him fast a prisoner, Made of herself a prism, Dividing all his colors, Anointed with holy chrism Each charming velvet petal. Was not she cunning, though. To steal his colors and paint herself A dainty flower rainbow ? 83 IN THE WOODS. Come not with me, but let me go alone, Into the woods to-day ; Not one of you I want, but undertone Of what the hills may say. No voice I wish to hear, except the bird. Or breathings of the grass. Or whispering leaves by wind so gently stirred, As 'neath I pass. The pulsing of the sinless hearts around, Of insect, tree, or flower. Or microscopic moss upon the ground, Which lives its little hour. Is all the sympathy I wish to-day ; For friends, the grand old trees 84 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. 85 Shall help me lift my silent soul to pray With Nature on her knees. No touch I want, except upon the palm The velvet leaf to feel ; No kiss besides the air so still and calm, While there I '11 kneel. No eyes to look in mine, except the light Of heaven's own tender blue, That offers me an everlasting flight To find the good and true. No ! I would be alone and would commune With Nature's spirit only. To-day the world and I are not in tune, My heart is sad and lonely. Not one of you I want, my spirit's need Must search the distant wood. And there, away in solitude, shall feed Upon its highest good. I ONLY WAIT. Wait ! give me time, — I cannot breathe When I begin this tale ; My trembling lips can scarcely wreathe The words of bitter wail. You were the very last to cheer As we sailed out to sea ; Remember you the children near, The youngest on my knee ? 'T was I who turned and answered then, Unthinking, to the cry Of mother ! mother ! — O my God, When may I also die ! But I must on. For one whole week We sailed without a frown 86 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. 87 Upon the sky, nor did we reek That ships went sometimes down. Alas ! how can I tell you this ? Did you not read ? You know Of that wild night ? — O God ! the hiss Of storm above — below ! Again I live it through ! feel yet The horror of that hour, When dumb with fright, in cold and wet, We felt the dread storm-power ! Amid the screams of mad despair, An angel-voice arose. It was my child, my little Clare, Full of high repose. " Mother," she said, " can no one here Pray God to still the storm ? You Ve always taught us He is near To shield us from all harm." 88 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. My lamb ! my blessed lamb ! No more ! No time to say the rest, There came a greater wave which tore The darlings from my breast. Spare me — spare me — all were lost, Deep buried in the sea, Among the souls thus tempest-tossed, The Father left but me. I went, with all my children sweet. Up to the Golden Gate, To enter there I was not meet, So now — / only watt. FLOWERS. O flowers, flowers, flowers, flowers ! Come cover me quick all over ! Bury me in your dainty bloom, Drown me in your sweet perfume. For am I not your lover ? Delicate leaf, and tender color. Beautiful shapes so airy. Blue and gold, and rose and green, Of velvet soft, with glossy sheen. Fit home for variest fairy ! Your beauty links me, lovely ones. To higher heavenly powers ; Ye are my thoughts, my wishes — ye My songs, my poems, all I see Made visible in flowers. 90 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. Then come, O come, ye sweetest things, And cover me up in bloom ; Bury me in your green and gold. Kiss me quick ye colors bold, And drown me in perfume ! ALAS! 'T were better had they death between, Or better each had never seen How close their two lives might have been, Than ended so. 91 YOU WOKE ME. SONG. You woke me to music and poetry, I, you to religion and love ; Enough ! Go your way and I mine, We meet in the heavens above. You were both noble and true, You gave me your heart's purest love, And yet ! — go your way and I mine, We meet in the heavens above. ' Set to music by the author. 92 KNOWN UNTO GOD. See ! yonder stately lordly spire, Searching through the sky ; Which crowns — as flame reveals the fire, Cathedral towering high. Majestic in its grand outline. Symmetrical in form. Rich in its rare and chaste design, Proof 'gainst time or storm. It sanctifies the air around, And sets apart a place. Like heart of man, where God is found, To meet him face to face. The morn is fair — the Archbishop Sits in his cap and stole ; ^ True incident in the building of the great Strasburg cathedral. 93 94 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. He looks with joy upon the walls, Which ravish all his soul. Here, as he sits, a woman comes, Bearing within her arms A stone of wondrous beauty wrought, A stone of many charms. It is the work of her own hands. And in it lies her heart ; " My lord, accept this for thy church,' She says, and would depart. " Stay, woman ! this is rarely fine " (He cries in eager haste). " No other stone in all that church So beautiful, so chaste. But how shall workmen place it there Where best one may admire ? Already finish they their work Upon the topmost spire ! " Yet this must surely have its place Where men its beauty see, POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. 95 To hide it from the eyes of all, I never can agree." "Nay, but, my lord," the woman said, In voice both soft and low, " If as you say no place is found To use it here below, Then let the workmen bear it up, And place it in the spire ; If men know nothing of this stone. And none be to admire, I know that God above will see. His angels will behold The work I 've put my heart into With all my love untold. And I shall be well satisfied To feel that I have given The best I had, not seen of men. But seen of God in heaven." According as the woman wished, They carried up the stone ; 96 POEMS, DRAMATIC AND LYRIC. Its beauty hidden from the world, Far up in tower lone. She heeded not the fame thereof Might never go abroad, But satisfied her work to give To angels and to God. And there ! — as flame reveals the fire- Burning in the sky, Unto this day, cathedral spire Lifteth her work on high. BROKEN FRIENDSHIP. I send no greeting ; I do not even feel Your name forgotten when in prayer I kneel. You came into my life and passed away, A troubled dream which flies before the day. You asked too much. There comes, at last, an end Of what one ought to suffer for a friend. It then becomes ignoble — self-abase, — Not sacrifice — pure — holy — full of grace. I suffered much where now I cannot feel ; I do not still pretend a friendly zeal In what you do — or are — or where you go ; A calm indifference is all I know. 97 98 POEMS, DRAMA TIC AND L YRIC. I am not angry even, nor doth there burn Resentment in my heart ! — No ! You must learn How wholly I forgive and can forget. The sun, upon two friends, Hath simply set. SONGS OF CONSTANCE FAUNT LE ROY RUNCIE AUTHOR OF "POBMS DRAMATIC AND LYRIC " AND " DIVINBLY LED " A MERRY LIFE— Z> /«zWr— Bass Solo. 1 DOVE OF PEACE— Z> major— Contralto. TONE-POEMS— Contralto. SILENCE AND THE SEA— ^ majors Contralto. I HOLD MY HEART SO STILL— £ flat — Mezzo-soprano. I'VE WANDERED FAR— ^ flat— Contralto. YES, I LOVE YOU— Z> wo/Vr- Soprano. TAKE MY SOUL, O LORD \—A major — Contralto. I NEVER TOLD HIM THAT I LOVED HIM— G^Soprano. W. A. POND, 25 UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK. MATTHIUS GREY, SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. CHICAGO MUSIC CO., CHICAGO, ILL. >