^m^^ms^ SJ^S^$i&SJiS4!>!!SJS)$iS^^ ^Ul'l!-. ILIBILARYOFCOSGRESS.J' n^"^- Y^^^ %""' i UNITED STATES OF A.^IERICA ^ WILD FLOWEES. POEMS. BY A^' CHARLES W. nUBNER, Auih(yr of " Souvenirs of Luther," etc. A^ \ NEW YORK : THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1877. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHDsG COlirANY. In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. CONTENTS. PAGE. DEAMA. Maid of San Domingo 7 WILD FLOWERS. Greeting 70 Voices of the Spring 77 To A Mocking Bikd ^4 Evening by the Sea §(j CUIUSTMAS g7 Grabuating Hymn 9l Beautiful Star of Evening.— Sou,:,' 93 Violets go Gloom and Glory i«v:> Love in Absence 10 1 To Carl S. H IO3 Ida 105 Beatrice 107 Dreams 109 Canzonet HI Christmas Chime 112 To A Rose II4 Mother and Child Ug Wandering II9 Carl Ioq Ii>A 123 iv CONTENTS. The Judgment Day 135 Autumn 1 26 You 128 Falling Stars 129 The SE.isoNS 131 EUMENIE 131 Lobe -Ley 130 Spring Flower 1 38 To A Beautiful Child 142 Spirits 14/* In a Graveyard 14S Thou Everywhere 150 Invocation to SrRiNft 152 Childhood Days. — Song 155 Love's Fip.st Dream — Soug ^ 157 The Brook I5y FABLES L\ rJIYME, The Laiek and her Young Ones IfiS The Lion and the Four Bulls I6y The Wolf .vnd the Lamb 170 The Cock and the Jewel 173 The Frog and the Fox 173 The Fox and the Grapes 174 The Bowman and the Lion 175 The Two Pots 17(1 The Mountain in Labor 177 The Belly and its Members 17S The Wind and the Sun 180 The Ass in the Lion's Skin ISg The Old Man and Death iy3 THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. TTIE MAT!) OF SAN-DO]\ITNGO. A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. ADAl'TKl) riiOM TIIH GERMAN. DKAMA riS PERSON u^. BABECAN A Creole rONIE, HtT r)au!.Mitir. (lUSTAVE (k- la ]JlKD...AS\vispOmror in tiicFnncli Snvieo. CON.TO IIOANGO, An Insurgent Negro Chief. COLONEL STRO:SILY, ] E^^^^^l^^^- ) I. Freneh OfT.eerB. ADOLPII, \ his ponp. j FERDINAND, ) J NANKY A Negro Boy. FRENCH SOLDIERS. ARMED INSURGENTS. The scene of the drama is the Island of San Domingo. Tlie time of aetion the year 1803; during the revolt of the natives, and massacre of the French residents by the insurrectionary slaves. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. ACT 1ST. A trntpte.ituom nifjht. The yard in front of Uoango's hovae. The front gate open. SCENE I. [Enter nAnECAN and tojiik. BABECAN. It is a fearful night ! In all my life I have not seen its equal. How the storm Howls through the house, and smites the groaning earth ! 8 WILD FLOWERS. TONIE. Mother, let us return to bed ; my heart Is trembling at the wrathful voice of Heaven — Ha ! see that blinding flash ! An angry God Hurleth his curse upon the savage blacks. BABECAN. What ! hast thou pity for the accursed French ? Dost thou forget again the nameless wrongs That made a loathed outcast of thy mother ? The cruel, hellish villainy that drove A trusting woman from the path of honor, And cast her soul to hopeless, blind despair r Has not a fierce, relentless hatred tracked us, A hate which never rested, lagg'd, nor slept Until its fangs had caught, and crushed the victim ? Did I not i^lace the wide and j)athle.ss sea Between them and my shame, and yet the vultmcs Forsook me not, but swooped to haunt and tear me ? Am I an evil thing, accursed of God, For man to shun, and which no roof dares sheltei- ? What was it made me what I am — a crazed, A broken-hearted, hi>peless, desperate woman ? Whose only thoughts are curses on her kind, Whose heart has but a single aim — revenjre ! THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Q TONIE, Mother, "believe me, I do well remember The fearful story, but it is not just That a whole nation should be forced to pay The penalty of crime some heartless wretch Did perpetrate, to please his recreant nature ; Why wouldst thou shed the blood of guiltless men. And league thyself with cruel savages, To gain the horrid meed of thy revenge? BABECAN. Pshaw ! child, the end will justify the meanfs ; — For years my wrongs have cried in vain to heaven, And now they shall be surfeited with blood ! These murdering slaves, more sure and keen to track A fleeing Frenchman than the hound which scents The wild boar in the forest's pathless depths, Are ministers and tools of my revenge, And feed the flames of my undying hate ! Ah ! as they speed the bullet through the heart. Or cut the throat of some detested Frenchman, I bless them for the bloody work they do For vengeance, and for me ! Death to the race From which thy father sprang! death to the cowards ! 10 WILD FLOWERS. And now no more of this — words are not deeds^ Thou dost remember that when Conjo h'ft na, He baiU^ us hold, by force or stratagem, All fuij^itives that hitherward may stray, To seek the grateful shelter of our ronf ; The chief will soon n-turn, and then his knife I\Iay find again some righteous work to do ; To lu'lp him all we can shall l)e our task, And though we can not dare the tented Held, Yet we'can aid his cause in our own way, Anil, aidiii'j,' his, do service in our own. TON IK. And wilt thou show no mercy then, my mother? Be just, be mereil'ul ! T ean forgive The rage for blood that reiuls the breast of men, But that a woman's heart should harlior lust For human l)lood exceeds the range of reason, And adds new horror to recorded crime. Turn the imploring wretches from thy door! P>e deaf to all their cries, and answer not ; Oh, lure them not with dark and treachri>us wiles Into a murderer's den ; l)e merciful ! Think oi my father ! he is one of them, A kindred THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 11 BABECAN. Hnsh ! thy father is a villain ! His crimes alone deserve my direst wrath, My everlasting vengeance ! Yes, with blood Shall be effaced the record of my wrongs — Death to the dastard race from which he came ! What Conjo bade lis do we will perform; Mercy were idle, pity would be sin. And treason to Iloango would be death ! TONIE. Oh, mother! let my life be forfeited, But do not steep thy daughter's hand in blood! Crush not my soul with weight of dreadful deeds, Taint not my virgin heart with human gore ! BABECAN. Silence, I say ! how darest thou disobey me ! Thy foolish talk doth ill befit the time ; Away, to bed ! This dark and stormy night Is no iiiaiTs friend, and none will dare to brave it; Come ! go to bed. TONIE. Dost think that T can sleep ? 12 WILD FLOWERS. BABECAN. Do as thou wilt ; it matters not to me, Thou shalt obey me, that is all. Good night ! [Enttrt tht houtt. TONIE. (solus.) " Good night " to me ! Aln-s, how can I sleep When through the chambers of my tortured soul Treason and murder glide, with restless pace. Sleep breathes alone the peaceful airs of heaven; A tranquil heart alone can taste its bliss. What difference would there be twixt good and evil If in the heart, oppressed with dreams of crime. Sweet sleej) could still assert her tranquil reign ? Poor Tonie ! No, there's no "good night " for thee ! Ah, woe is me ! Who robs me of my peace. And chases slumbur from my weary eyes ? Almighty God , my mother ! She it is That thrusts the dagger in my shrinking liand, And woos me on, along the dreadful path That leads to murder, and the gates of hell. How soft was once my sleep ! My maiden heart Was cradled in the lap of tender dreams. And angel pinions canopied my rest; Now horrid phantoms haunt me — visions born THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. IS Of treason and of blood ! Ah, not for me Shall flow the fragrant balm of happy sleep — Poor Tonie! would that thou couldst have ''good night." \Enttri tht honse_ SCENE II. Oustave, s^pord in hand, and pistols !n his belt, enters the gate. GUSTAVE. I'll go no further; be the issue here Or life or death, I am resolved to brave it! Ignoble is the heart that fears to die, When from the ashes of such sacrifice Immortal love will spring. The elements, In dreadful conflict meeting, rock the world. And blind the howling night with fire. 'Tis meet That man, at least, be merciful when heaven Hurls death-impelling bolts, and God himself Seems deaf to supplications. Let me fall Beneath the bludgeons of a savage mob. Or feel the assassin's dagger in my heart — I'll save my friends and brothers. Let me try; Humanity dwells everywhere; perchance I'll find it even here, for love, and pity, H. WILD FLOWERS. Depend not on tlie color of one's skin. [Hi knocks at the house door with the hilt of ?iis sicnrd. Open ! oi)en, for the love of heaven ! Ten human lives hang on the verge of death ! If in your hearts there is one spark of pity Opf'u your door, and do not let us perisli ! BABECAN. [At one of Iht winitmot. Who calls? Who knocks so loudly at my door In this most drcadfid hour? GUST AVE. A fugitive, Who craveth food and ^lu-ltcr. Let me in ! Amid the fearful darkness of this night I can no furtlier go ; have pity on me ! BABECAN. Art thou alone ? GURTAVE. I am alone. BABECAN. Tliere's danger, In these rude times of murder and revolt, To open friendly doors to I'ugitives, But in this wild, temptestuous night my heart Is moved with pity; I will let thee in. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 15 GUSTAVE. Can I dej^end on thee ? BABECAN. Be not afraid ! My daughter, Tonie, and myself, are all That occupy the house. Wait whore thou art. And I will send her down to give thee entrance. [Retires from (lie window. 01T8TAVE. (sohlS.) Thank God ! I find a generous lic^irt at lat ; Saved, saved ! and hope has tiiinnplicd o'er de- spair ; r>iit, linld, may I not be deceived ? May not llcr words, so fair, lie fair hut to hetray me ? Was that the voice of honest sympathy ? Dare I remain ? My friends will jicrish also Sliould I not save myself — what can I do ? [nankv is seen in the. background, locking the garden gate in great haste. Halt! hoy, what wouldst thou do.? NANKY. T locked the gate, As r»a])ccan commanded me to do. GUSTAVE. Why lock it now ? 16 WILD FLOWERS. NANKY. Ask tliat of her thyself; In Conjo's absence she is master here. GUSTAVE. And pray, boy, who is Conjo ? NANKY. Conjo, sir, Ts a p;roat chief, who leads our men to liattle Against the French, and yesterday he joined. With eight score men, the camp of Dessalines. They say the white men fear him dreadfully — Hast thou not heard of Conjo ? GUSTAVE. Then, by heaven, I'm in the murderer's very den ! I say. Give me those keys! I want tlie front gate open. NANKY. Nay, nay ! 1 dare not do that. [Noiu is heard in the hottst GUSTAVE. They are coming ! I hear them on the stairs — 'tis death to linger — Give me those keys, I say ! THE MAID OF SAN DOMINGO. 11 NANKY. (7'tinnmg.) 0, help! help! help! GUSTAVE. Too late, too late. So be it. Let them come ! I'll sell my life as dearly as I can. [ffe cocks a pistol, and aims it at the door. The door ojyens slowli/.] Stand back I fiONiB appears, her face revealed 6y the light of a lantern held in her hands. Is it an angel that I see ? TONIE. What ails thee, stranger ? GUSTAVE. Speak ! is this a dream, Or am I waking ? Art thou flesh and blood, Or some sweet vision of the spirit land ? I f(vared to meet some black and hideous demon. With heart as foul and loathsome as his face, But, \o ! u}K)n my doubting vision steals The image of a woman, fair as heaven ! TONIE. Thou shouldst not trust the dubious play of colors ; Beneath a skin as pure and white as snow May lurk a traitor's heart. {A.siiJe) Oli, righteous Heaven, 18 WILD FLOWERS, Would tliat lie understood me! GUST AVE. Can T dnnl)t The honest language of thy gentle eyes ? Or fail to trust a lace where God has stamped ThQ signet of his own divinest honor ? I feel that Love and Beauty fashioned thee By noblest rules of sacred womanhood, And yet wouldst have me doubt thee? Never 1 never! TONIE. It is not safe to rest beneath this roof; The insurgent hordes, on blood and rajjine bent, Are scouring all ihe country round about; We are not safe from their intrusion. Find Some other place of refuge, if thou canst. {Aside) He lulU not coni})n'liend me! gu>;tave. Well, let them come; I will remain. Thy mother Has promised me the shelter of her roof. And thou, alone, wouldst be unmerciful ? Wouldst thrust me forth again into the gloom, To struggle with the warring elements. And savage men, moi's* pitiless than they? THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. ^^ TONIE. Would I could save thee, stranger ! Nanky, go, Assist my mother. Tell her I am coming. NANKY. Well, Tonie. TONIE. Stranger, he npon thy guard ; n.'lieve me when I say thou art not safe. GUSTAVE. What meanest thou ? BABECAN. [SpeaJn'ng tJirmi/jh nn upprr window. What means all t-his delay ? TONIE. — (Aside.) (rood God, 'tis mother ! BABECAN. Come close the door. Should any one he near The light may rouse suspicion. Come ! TONIE. — (Aside.) Her voice Has sealed his doom ! (Aloud.) We're coming, motlun- ! nAUJXAN retires from the window.] Stranger, m WILD FLOWERS. Follow me ; thy faith shall not be vain — 0, holy angels, keep my soul fi-om stain ! GUSTAYE. Then, take my hand ; I follow where thou'lt lead, For even death, in such a dream, were sweet ! [Exit. ♦SCENE III. An apartment with three doors; one in tlie center, and one at either side. BABECAN. — {solus.) Why doth he hesitate ? Can he suspect me ? Dotli he distrust my pity ? Yes, by heaven ! 'Twere well he did, for when his feet have crossed The threshold of my door, his doom is sealed. The latch that he doth lift with eager hand, To seek within a refugt' from the storm, Sliiill close on him forever! Tliere's no path To lead him back to life and lilterty ; — r>ut, hark, they come ; rejoice, avenging gods ! Another victim bleeds upon your altars ! \Knt«r TOMK itnd oibtavr. GUSTAVE. I thank thee from the bottom of my heart, For granting me the shelter of thy roof; THE MAID OF SAN DOMINGO. 21 Despcair had almost overwhelmed my soul ; My faith in fortune and in heaven were lost — But hope and life again are dear to me ! BABECAN. Forsooth, thou art a bold and reckless man, To stake thy life against a woman's heart ; Thou dost not know us, nor dost seem to care, 15uilding thy hopes on treacherous chance alone. GUSTAVE. Th\' daughter's pure and guileless face suffices ; For as I gaze into her beauteous eyes, And hear the golden music of her tongue, My heart forgets the savage hate of race, And boundless faith absorbs my soul. BABECAN. The trust Which every feature of thy face discloses, Deserveth similar confidence from me ; Know, then, this is Conjo Hoango's house, Tlie noted negro chief, of whose exploits, And matchless cruelty thou may'st have heard. When France, dehrious in her joy, proclaimed The age of universal liberty, She gave to every slave upon these isles, 22 WILD FLOWERS, The signal for revolt, rapine and murder ; As from his leafy lair the panther lea})S On his unconscious victim, sprang the slaves. With gloating wrath on their defenceless masters ; Soon were the highways ghastly strewn with dead. And smoking ruins blotted all the land ; The first who fell beneath Hoango's hand Was his old master, Rolf de Lavalette, The generous lord of tliis once fair domain ; The mansion next became the jirey of flames, And as the reeking ruins sank to dust, He forced me, at the peril of my life, To swear eternal vengeance on tlie French, And fealty to him, and all his band. I did so, trembling for my daugliter's fate. For mark thou, she was born in luited France, And much I marveled at this freak of mercy For one whose veins hold his oppressors' blood. Then in this lonely house he bade us dwell, Forbidding me, on pain of death, to harbor A white man here at any time, or give Help, drink or noarishmcnt to fugitives. He has been gone since yesterday, t(^ take Powder to the insurgents tln-ough your lin(\s ; If Conjo knew that I had h ubored one THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. ^3 Of thy detested race beneath this roof, My life were forfeited. TONIE. \In a whisper, asid-:. Oh, mother, mother ! GUSTAVE. Believe me, friends, I mean no treachery In begging thus yom* liospitable aid ; I am not one wliose heart delights in wrong, Or 'neath a smiling face conceals tlie traitor ; Ye must not judge me by the wanton brutes Who, in tlic name of France, defiled her fame ; An honest soldier shields his country's honor. And fights her battles as a brave man should. BABECAN. Well, what, and who art thou ? But first remove Those weapons from thy person ; thou art armed Prodigiously ! Come, make thyself at home. TONIE. [With anxiety. Oil, mother, let our guest retain his arms. They do so well become a gallant soldier ! BABECAN, Thou silly girl I 24. WILD FLOWERS. GUSTAVE. {^Laying hit weapom on cne tuble, I will, with your })erniission Relieve myself of these ; though oruamentalj They are no less a burden. TONIE. [SignificanUi/. Useful things Should not be trifled with. BABECAN. Tonie, be still I Now to thy story, sii-. GUSTAVE. [Seating him self With pleasure, friends : I am a Swiss, but France's eagles claim My loyal heart as her adopted son. E'en as a child my restless s\nnt yearned To gaze upon strange people, and strange lands ; My heart with wild adventures sighed to cojie, And in my dreams the lapping sea-waves sang Forever in my ears. France called for troops ; My uncle, and three cousins, volunteered To fight beneath her banners in Domingo. I left my homestead in the care of friends, Exchanged the plowshare for the soldier's sword, THE MAID OF SAN-DO'MINGO. . 25 And soon the favoring Genii of the deep Placed us upon these shores of death and slaughtd We found the peo])le raging vvitli revolt ; Each foot of soil we gained was drenched with blood ; Tlie rebels fought like tigers, and our trooj)s Hedged in on every side by death and famine, Were routed, and are fleeing everywhere — Ca})e Francois is the tnily ]>i>int we liold. Our own brave regiment lay, sori^ beseiged, In Fort St. Dauphin, ready to defend Each inch of ground, wlien treason from our grasp Wrenched our last hope away, and Dauphin fell. My comrades sank like grain beneath the scythe ; The foe had fired the place at thirteen points, And soon the city, and the shipping, lay Whelmed in a sea of flame. All hope of flight Seaward from the ill-fated spot was gone ; We then, my uncle, I and my three cousins. Resolved to dare the worst that fate could send ; Five comrades joined us. Through the blaziu"- streets We fought our dreadful way, like desperate men, Till through a suburb, and a gate, we gained At last the desolated land bevond. S6 WILD FLOWERS. Thus far, by fortune favored, we escaped The murdering bands that scour the isle ; resolved To reach, if it be possible, Cape Francois, Where General Rochambcau still bravely holds The last asylum of the fleeing whites. BABECAN. Wliat madness ! for a half score of men to pierce An army's front. TONIE. It is heroic, mother ! GUSTAVE. Nay, call it, friends, the work of blind despair! Two weary weeks have we been wandering thus, Hid in the forest's gloomy deptlis by day, While moon and stars have shaped our course by night. Near a lagoon, a little distance hence, I left my comrades waiting. If your hearts Contain a single drop of human pity Oh ! s(^nd them food, and give them shelter here. Ye have been kind to me, be kind to them. And, surely, heaven will yet reward your mercy ! BABECAN. — {Aside.) Ten men, said he ? That might be dangerous — THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 27 But cautious pluck and cunning will achieve it. {Aloud.) My friend, thou dost demand too much of me ; I can not shelter ten men in this dwelling, Hoango's spies would soon discover them. Through yonder window dost thou not percieve A faint glow bright'ning the horizon's verge ? 'Tis there the camp fires of his people burn ! On every path and highway scouts are lurking. Were hut the roads all clear your friends might come — GUSTAVE. Oh, send them food ! and let my comrades know That help is not far distant. TONiE. — {Aside.) Holy Virgin ! What can my mother mean ? What direful scheme Hath she determined on ? BABECAN. Well, be it so. I do not see how I can well refuse thee ; This very night shall Nanky go to them, To bring them food and drink. Didst thou not say Thy friends are camped close by ? 28 WILD FLOWERS. GUSTAVE. Yes, by the lake, Within a grove of oaks, down to tlie right. BABECAN. I know the place ; be not distressed about them — Didst thou not say ton men ? GUSTAVE. I am the tenth. TONIE. I In a wltisptr aside. Is this my mother ! wli<> would thus betray, This frank and unsuspecting youth ? BABECAN. Now, Tonie, Be quick, and show ouf handsome guest the room, The only j)lace of refuge I can offer ; Meantime T will })rei»are the meals for all, Wliile thou dost set the table. TONIE. [ Taking orSTAVi'g cloak and pistol-. Well, then, come 1 GUSTAVE. I follow thee. TONIE. Fear nothing, stranger ; mother THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 29 Has placed thy safety in my hands, and I Will shield thee, like an angel, from all danger, \Exit TOSIE and gttstave through the left hand door. BABECAN. — (sohlS.) " Will shield thee, like an angel " — pshaw, the fool ! This angel guardianship will soon be over. Now, Babecan, test all thy woman's wit ! One victim, only, will not be enough — The whole black-hearted pack of dogs must perish ! Hoanso's knife shall cut their hearts in twain ! Tonie is but a child ; I can not trust her ; She fails to grasp the scope of my designs ; Besides, her heart^eans to her father's people. Alone will I accomplish it, and feed The bm-ning hunger of my soul for blood ! l£xU. SCENE IV. [Enter oustavk and tonie through the left hand door. TONIE. [Pointing back through the door. In there thou wilt be safe. It is the room Where my guardian, Lavalette, was murdered By Conjo and his men. The dear, good man 1 How tenderly he loved his little Tonie I May gracious God reward him for it all. so WILD FLOWERS. The room is empty now, and being farthest From the high road, will offer safest shelter. GUSTAVE. Ah, dear and charming girl, a thousand thanks For all thy kindness ! TONIE. I will hasten back With a good meal, the best the house affords ; When thou hast eaten, thou canst sleep in peace, For I will wake, and watch. [tome voalks busily to and fro, arranging the table. GUSTAVE. (solus.) How fair she is I What grace celestial animates her form. What magic music breathes from her sweet lips ! Oh, bliss incarnate of my fairest dreams ! The darkness, and the horror of these days. Like phantoms fleeing from the touch of morning, Fade in the radiant glory of thine eyes. And every sorrow, dying, owns thee queen 1 Can it be true that fate has drifted me, By some mysterious power, upon these shores, That from the womb of most disastrous times, A love, more fair than spirit ever dreamt THE MAID OF SAN-DOMTN-GO. SI Might spring to bless my soul ? — Oli, Tonie, Tonie ! TONIE. Didst thou call me ? GUSTAVE. 'Twas my soul that called ! TONIE. Supper is ready. Dost thou wish aught else ? If so, tell me immediately, before My mother, Babecan, retires to bed, GUSTAVE, \TaMng hold of her hand. Dost thou serve every stranger with such zeal ? TONIE. I love to serve all that are kind and jrood. GUSTAVE. And dost thou think that I am kind and good ? TONIE. Thou didst confide in me, before a word friendship passed between us ; only those Whose hearts are true can feel such perfect trust, And those that trust can not be evil-minded. GUSTAVE. There is no blemish in my heart, believe me ; 32 WILD FLOWERS. No crime has stained the record of my life, Kor do I fear to die. TUNIE. Thnn slialt ii<.t die! TIk' mute assurance of mini' eyes sufliced To make Vliee give (hy life into my keeping, And hy the grace of God, thou b;iiall not rue Thy fearless faith in my integrity ; I'll save thy life, or die in the attempt! M'STAVK. What meanest thou? Am I in danger here? S}>eak ! Have I heen betrayed? TONIE. Stranger, be calm, and fear not ; for, believe me, My lite stands i)ledged for thine. GISTAVE. And wonld'st thou weep Should an assasin's dagger ])ierce my breast? Oil. (lailing! say would tears of fond regret Embalm my memory iu thy loving heart? TONIE. Oh, Heaven ! OrSTAVE. Nay, answer me ! 'Ti*; sweet to know THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 33 That by one's grave some faithful heart will weep, That some dear hand will deck our dust with flowers. TONIE. Oh, speak not thus — it pains me ! GUSTAVE. Art thou weeping ? Come, let me kiss those precious tears away ; Speak, darling ! hast thou ever loved ? Oh, tell me. Has earth's divinest bliss and darkest woe, Fallen upon thy spirit from the skies ? — When 1 beheld thee first, and on my sight Thy beauty dawned, like some bright star that gilds Tlie rifted gloom of night with sudden glory, I felt the throbbings of a new born life Thrilling my soul. I would have followed tliee Though Murder stood, bare-armed, to striki- iiir dead ! One thinight alone had mastery of my soul ; Tlie potent witchery of thy charms enthralled uic ; My sjjirit staggered 'neath its weight of bliss ; All that I knew, and saw, and felt was — love ! — What! Aveeping still? Why all this silence, darling ? SJ^ WILD FLOWERS. I can not bear it — tell me, hast thou loved, Or dost thou love ? Behold me at thy feet — By all that's holy, answer ! (TOSIE, overcome with emotiont she can not conceal, and with a grsture xvltich reveals her love for gustave, breaks awag from him, and disappears hurriedly from tht room. GUSTAVE. [Hastening after her' Tonie! Tonie! The Curtain Falls. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. €5 ACT 11. Tlie same apartment as at the end of Act 1st. SCENE I. GUSTAVE. [Entering through left hand door: It seems I am the only one awake ; There's no one here ; but yet the hour is early — So I must fain content me till they come. 1 could not rest or sleep ; a sweeter draught Then e'en the god of lethean sleep can tender, In his star-wreathed chalice, slaked the thirst, The fever-frenzy of my love-charmed soul. Spirit of love, how wondrous is thy power ! Guiding congenial hearts through golden days, With sweeter music than the seraphs sing. Love can outstrip the farthest flight of fancy ; Earth has no boundary that it can not leap ; It feareth not the battle's lurid gloom ; S6 IVILD FLO HERS. It looks iindazecl at fortune's glaring sun ; Nor dreads to seek the cave of blind despair. Yea, every heart that feels its charmful touch Gains fruitful knowledge of immortal things. Oh, Tonie, Tonie ! our congenial hearts Blended their spirit-harmony ere yet . Our mortal eyes had met : oVr the sea waves Stretching in vast and restless desolation, Came to our ears the melody of love — tSoul calling n])on soul! [Tie stands lost in reviry. {Enter) — TON IF. May I disturb thee? GUSTAVE. Ah, is it thou? TONIR. Thou art an early riser! GUSTAVE. And wouldst thou have me sleep? My heart's unrest Can not be quieted by empty sleep. TONIE. Didst thou not rest or sleep ? GUSTAVE. When in the heart THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 37 The pulses throb, as they do now in mine, Reluctant nature heeds the soul's behest, And is its slave. Didst thou sleep ? TONIE. No, I could not ; All night insurgent troops marched by the house. I hear their GLnieral lias massed his forces To take Cape Francois by assault. To-morrow 'Tis said, the dreadful struggle will begin, When foreign rule shall cease o'er all these lands, And the proud flag of France be furled forever ! GUSTAVE. Then I must hasten on, nor lose a moment — Where is thy mother ? We must now devise The best means for escape. TONIE. Nay, nay ! not yet ; The rear guard of the army still is near. Their videttes, even now, are plain in sight ; 'Twere certain death to thee, and all thy comrades, Shouldst thou attempt escape at such a time. GUSTAVE. What, then, dost thou advise me should be done ? ISurely, dear Tonie, thou wilt go with me ? 38 WILD FLOWERS. A heart as pure and tender as thine own Can never be the friend of savage men, And breathe this lust and murder-tainted air ? Come, dearest, come ! The tranq[uil skies of France Shall smile upon our blended lives, and bless Our coming years with happiness. Oh, come, Have faith in me ! TONIE. Shall I forsake my mother ? GUSTAVE. Oh, she will go with us ! TONIE. Am I to trust A stranger, whom but yesterday I knew not ? GUSTAVE. Love takes no heed of time ; it buds and blooms. And ripens its sweet fruit within an hour ! Methinks that I have loved thee, ! so long ; I've known thee since I knew or felt whatever Is good, and pure, and true, and beautiful ! Tell me, have I interpreted thy heart ? Were all thy tears, last eve, for pity's sake ? Did friendship's spirit only haunt thy bosom ? Or was it love's ecstatic ministry ? THE MAW OP SAN-DOMINGO. S9 TONIE. Have pi'ty on a weak and silly girl ! Yes, yes — I love thee 1 Oh, my heart in vain Struggled to hide its secret from thine eyes ; Oh, pity me ! I am a foolish maiden, I only feel, I only know 1 love thee ! Yes, take me hence ; I'll trust and follow thee ; No father's care is mine, and mother spurns me, With cruel coldness from her moody breast — Oh, love, love me — and forsake me not ! GUSTAVE. [Fervently embracing her. God bless thee, Tonie ! Ah, this world contains Some sunshine still to cheer our fainting souis. Some blooms of Eden which no storm can blisht ! Well, Tonie, dark and toilsome is the way Which we attempt together. Take my hand ! In weal or woe I never will forsake thee, For thou art now my wife, in sight of heaven ! Let us get ready quickly ; I will go And let thy mother know our plans TONIE. Beware ! For that way lies the road to our destruction. Hear me ! I hold a secret in my breast, JfO WILD FLOWERS. A dreadful secret — but, thou slialt be saved I Thou art (■tonie, with a Ionic of alarm, interrupts herself. < and hastens to the door, Ksiening to the tound y^of rapidly approaching footsteps. Oh, God of mercy ! here comes mother. Betray no sign of fear — make her believe That thou dost trust her blindly ! GUSTAVE. Speak ! what means this ? TONIE. Silence, I say ! [The door opens suddenly, BABECAN. Why, stranger ! dost thou care So little for our lives, risked in thy favor, That thou shouldst dare exposure in this room ? Back to thy hiding place ! GUSTAVE. I ask thy pardon ! I strove to learn some tidings from my friends ; Perhaps thy messenger will soon return. BABECAN. The messenger I sent has just returned ; Thy friends are well, and send thee kindest greet- ino\ THE MAID OF SAN-DOMtNGO. J^l And thanks to me for food. GUSTAVE. No other message ? BABECAN. No other message. GUSTAVE. Heaven reward thee, mother ! BABECAN. Now, monsieur, haste thee to thy hiding place ; When every jjeril's past, that threatens us, Thou mayest return. GUSTAVE. I go there ; [In a u'Uisp'r to tonie Shall I, Tonie ? TONIE. lllastili/, in a whispT, asvif. Trust in thy hridf- — fear not ! I will protect thee ! GUSTAVE. I trust and fear not — God is everywhere. WILD PLOWERS, SCENE 11. TONIE and BABKOAN. BABECAN. The reckless rascal ! there he goes, believing That he will soon retrace his eager steps ! His heart is filled with vain and foolish dreams, Nor recks he that the sin-ivenging gods. Before their smoking shrines of sacrifice, Stand ready, and await their victim. Ha ! Is this a sam^jle of the Frenchmen's cunning ? Away, with the poor bunglers ! Let them learn The mercy of revenge from such as I, Or pity from the traitors of Domingo 1 TONIE. \Throwint] herself at the feet o/babecam Mother ! BABECAN. What is the matter ? TONIE. Mercy, mother ! BABECAN. For whom ? THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. J^B TONIE. For our poor guest ! oh, doth thy bosom Contain no feeling save revenge and hate ? By all that thou dost still revere as holy ! By all a mother's love for her own child ! By all the sacred things of earth and heaven ! Have mercy on the stranger ! Wouldst thou kill An innocent man, who never wronged us, mother ? Who pledged us hand and heart, in childlike trust ? Mother, by all thy hopes beyond the grave, Have mercy on the stranger ! [tonib rt«e» slowly, and stands, her head drooping, her hands covering her /ace, BABECAN. Art thou mad ? Am I to lose the sweet reward of vengeance, The luxury of a great revenge, because A silly girl sheds tears ? Am I to miss A chance I've pra}^ed for sixteen bitter years, And which has come at last, because a child Sobs at my feet, and idly whimpers " pity" ? Am I to din into thy ears forever Thy mother's wrongs and thine ? How thy vile father. Whose infamy unfathomed hell itself Can scarcely hope to compass, lured my heart, U WILD FLOWERS. While I, and thy dead guardian, lived in France ? Until I fell, the victim of his lust, And thou wert born, the fruit of all my shame ? Did he not swear, before his courtly peers, That thou wert not his child, nor any truth In anght I said ? Did they not drive me forth With jeers and curses, as a perjured wench ? Am I to love thrice cursed France for this ? Nor seek to cleanse her stains from off my soul, With the best blood that flows within her veins ? Hast thou become a craven at a time When fate and fortune, with approving smile, Stand ready for our purpose of revenge ? Away ! prate not of mercy ! TONIE. Mother ! mother ! By the Almighty God that dwells above us ; Deprive me not of all the taith I have In our humanity — the only bond That binds me still to thee. Destroy me, mother. But force me not, by any deed of thine, That I, thy child, must curse the womb that bore me. And execrate a mother's holy name I THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO, Jf5 BABECAN. How darest thou ? Tonie ! TONIE. God forgive iny words ! But we must now determine this between us — [She again thrrnos herself at the feet o/babkcan. Behold me at thy feet ! I clasp thy knees In my soul's agony, and ])lead for mercy ! Blot not thy hands with hlood, untimely shed ; The blood of innocence ! From such libation Will spring the germs of crime and deathless wrath ! Let mercy's heavenly harvest bloom instead ; Oh, force me not to loathe thee, and to hate Her, whom in nature, I should love and honor ! BABECAN. Silence, traitress ! not another word, If thou wouldst not have Conjo hear of this ! TONIE. [Rising slowly, and with dignity. Mother, I do not fear Hoango's wrath ; No earthly power can force me to submit ; Death has no terror for me in this cause ; — All that is dear to me — yea, life itself 46 WILD FLOWERS. Will I devote to save this fugitive — He must, he sliall be saved ! BABECAN. [ With terrible calmnets. Is that the cue ? Now, mark me, girl ! 'Twill be no fault of mine If thy dear prot(jg-^, when Conjo comes, Shall be beyond all fear of further harm ! TONIE, \_Atide, with subdued voice. My God ! what can she mean ? Oh, dreadful thought ! Beneath her mocking words lurk hints of murder ! (Aloud.) Well, mother, may the God of justice judge us ! I owe thee nothing more, for every bond Of reverence or love is rent between us ; Adrift upon a shoreless sea of blood. Thy sinful soul has doomed its own perdition ; I know thy foul, thy fiendish purpose well, — I am thy child no more ! [Exit hurriedly, BABECAN. — (solus.) Was that my Tonie ? Can doves be changed to hawks? or lambs to lions? THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Ip Does "pity" fill her breast with so much rage ? Nay, it is something more ! It is the glow, The wild, mysterious agony of love ! Surely, the fellow must have won her heart. And she intends to thwart my purpose, — well, Who wins may laugh ! (Sht ivalls (o a closft, takes a paper filled with a < white powder from her jmck-et, anil proceeds to {^empty it into a number of jugs containing milk. This silly love of Tonie's, Perhaps, would interfere with all my plans ; I must be rid of her. Down in the cellar There's room enough for scores of stubborn daugh- ters. Meanwhile, should Conjo come not in the course Of a few hours, this conquering cavalier Shall sip a potent poison with his milk ; His hungry comrades, waiting in the woods, Shall have the balance ; thus will I assist My faithful friend, Hoango, and fill up The measure of my vengeance to the brim 1 {Exit. 4.8 WILD FLOIVERS. SCENE III. • Another room in HOANGo's house, having but one door, and one window. GTJSTAVE ly>n(f asleep upon a sofa hi an alcove, with the curtain drawn aside. TONIE enters with a coil of rope in her hand. She trips lifjhtly to the alcove. TONIE, The seal of holy peace has closed his eyes ; How soft he slumbers ! Busy fancy })aiiits Her fairy hues upon his dreaming soul — Perhaps the shape that charms him is mine own, Or weeping Love, distraught with woe and passion ; Sure, 'tis a witching dream that thralls his heart, And wreathes his radiant face with smiles. SL-t-j) on ! My tremulous voice shall not disturb thy rest, Or drag thee rudely from the fairy world That canopies thy soul with golden skies ! Let fancy cheat him with her tale of peace, While treason, even now, with ste'althy pace Makes busy preparation for his doom — But let him sleep, for love is vigil keeping, And when the moment come? in which to dare THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 49 His rescue, I will wake him. With this rope To aid him, he can safely reach the ground, Thence I will he his guide through secret paths, And take him to his comrades at Cape Francois. GUSTAVE. \I}rta,yixily, Tonie! Tonie ! TONIE. He sleeps so soundly, yet he calls- my name — Shall I awaken him? Yet, it were well To counsel with him as to our escape — I'll go and wake him ; with a tender kiss Will I recall him from the land of dreams — A poor requital for the bliss he loses ! fSht stoops gent!)/ over ctiSTAVE to kiss him, but < hearing an approaching noise, relinquishes her {^purpose, and listens attentively. What noise is that ? Hark ! Voices ? [She hastens to the windoio, God of mercy ! Hoango, and his cut-throat hand have come, And with the loathsome crew I see my mother. With tongue and busy gesture telling all ! A dreadful grin distorts his dusky face, An open blade is glittering in his hand — They come this way ! — Iloango and his horde Are in the house ! and we are lost ! Oh, heaven ! 50 WILD FLOWERS. Is there no way at all for our escape? Well, we will die together ! — Let me think — Heaven yet may help us — they are on the stairs — I hear Hoango's raving — hold ! — yes — yes ! Yes, that will do — thank God, the plan will save us J Ttosie takts the rope, and ntpi'lli/ ■i winding; it arniind the hndi/ o/ofs- (t AVE, and the sofa, lies him securely, GUSTAVE. [Awakening with a start. What does this mean? What art thou doing, Tonie ? TONIF. [ }y'illi terrible emphasis. Silence ! GUSTAVE. [hi a\voice of suppressed agony. I am betrayed ! TONIE. [Draiving the curtain close. Be still, T say; If thou dost really love me, prove it now I THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 51 SCENE IV. IIOANGO «?('i BAEEOAN rv^^h into the room. They are followed by two armed negroes, who stand at the door and guard it. IIOANGO. Where is the daniucd Frenclimau? Where is lie? J iilernal traitress ! wench ! hast thou hetrayed us ? Girl, answer me ! Has he escaped my clutches? By all the fiends of hell ! where has he gone ? Confess, or I will kill tliee on the spot ! [Takes hold of tothv.'s arm, and shakes her ruddy. TONIE. What does this mean, Hoango ? Art thou mad ? Why this assault on me ? What have I done ? What awful thing have they accused me of? BABECAN. Oh, shameless impudence ! HOANGO. Didst thou not plan The prisoner's escape, and aid him in it ? TONIE. Thy rage has surely made thee blind, Hoango ! (Gm'np to the alcove, followed hy noANOo a»(l ■< BAiiKCAN, she draivs the curtain aside, disclosi-g (.GU8TAVE securely tied with ropes. 52 WILD FLOWERS. Behold ! and thank your Tonic for the deed ! BABECAN. [ With intense sur}»ise. What do I see ? HOANGO. [To BABECAN. What means this, woman ? [Rushing on qustavk, and brandishing his knife. Ha! I'll cut thy heart out ere the sun shall set, Dog ! devil ! Frenchmen ! — How my hot blood boils ! At sight of one of thy accursed race ! ViUain ! prepare to die — thy doom has come ! GUSTAVE. Jesu ! must I be slain by these assassins ? Oh, Tonie ! Tonie ! HOANGO. [Addressing toxie. Speak ! who did all this ? We thought the lascal had escaped us all, And Babecan denounced thee as u traitress ? TONIE. Touched by his gallant bearing, and his youth, 'Tis true, I did desire to save the stranger, THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 53 And so forgot my duty to my friends ; But as I came from mother's room to this, Speeding along the hall, I chanced to linger Before the proclamation of your chief, Brave Dessalines, our dear Domingo's hope, In which the General calls upon the people To drive the foreign vipers from our soil. So tliat our homes might all again be free ! — I read— and as I read my soul grew strong. My heart recovered fi-om its foolish blindness — The sacred flame of freedom blazed anew ! I had abueed thy trust, and wronged my mother — This had I to undo, ere I could hope To gain thy pardon, and my mother's love — Nor did I hesitate. I found him sleeping; OuP prisoner's aim was to escape to-night — I took these cords, and bound him as he lay — If still ye think I am deserving censure Kail on — by heaven, methinks 'twas neatly done 1 HOANGO. Bravo, my girl ! The color of thy skin Has not impaired thy cunning, or thy heart ; In both thou dost resemble thy good mother. How sayest thou, Babecan ? Is it not so ? 6^ WILD FLOWERS. BABECAN. Conjo, I cannot comprehend the girl ! Haclst thou but seen and heard her — HOANGO. Never mind ! \Jnrning to one of the guards. Away, D'Almara! bring our comrades hither Tell them their captain bids them come at once, Prepared for rifle practice, and the target Shall be this felloAv's heart, at twenty ])aces. [Addrtssiitg the other guard. Loan me thy rifle, Omar ! [lie aimi the gun at gustavk. TONIE. [Eusfiing between hoango aiid gustave. Hold ! Hoango ! [hoanoo endeavors to push her aside. To kill him now were a most foolish deed — ' Hold ! in the name of liberty ! nor thwart The happy issue of a wiser plan. nOANGO. What ? wouldst thou save the villain's life • Away ! And let me drive this bullet through his heart. TONIE. {Grasping the rifle. Halt ! in the name of freedom and Domingo !• THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 55 A sino-le foeman slain must not suffice us. Wouldst tliou allow his comrades to escape ? Nay ! rather grant him life until to-morrow ; Demand of him a message to his friends, Who wait his coming at the lake of Gulls, Bidding them come with speed, as all is well ; A written line or two is all thafs needed To make them rush, like quails, into a trap ; Once in our dwelling thou canst butcher them Without the least of danger to thyself — Remember, Oonjo, these are desperate men ! HOANGO. Yes, thy advice is good, and I will take it — What sayest thou, Babecan ? BABECAN. I deem it wrong Thus to delay our guerdon of revenge. But thou art master hero, and shalt decide. HOANGO. Be it as Tonie says ! TONiE. — (Aside.) Oh, God be prai ed ! HOANGO. D' Almara tell our men they now may rest ; Our labors, for to-day, are done. Remember, 56 WILD FLOWERS. They must be ready at the peep of dawn For other work. [To aUSTAVB. And thou, young whelp, pre[»eed thy soul to hell ! GUSTAVE. Oh, slay me now! Be merciful for once! I am a white man — and Domingo's foe — Why still delay ? Oh, kill me ! Pierce this heart That slu^, with wanton cruelty, has broken — Oh, Tuniel Tonie ! TONTE. [Aside, in a voice nfd ep emntinn. Heaven, he deems me false ! HOANGO. Thy groan of pain is music to my ears ; 1 know no sweeter sounds in all the world Than the death-frenzy of mine enemies ! It seems thy life is torture? Thou wouldst die? Then live until to-morrow's sun shall rise, And let me gloat upon thy misery ! [Addressing one of the gwirds. Do not allow this Frenchman to escape ; Should he attempt it, shoot him like a dog. [Addressing 1)ai;e an(/ tonie. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. Si Come, I am hungry ; give me food and drink ; We had a long but lucky raid to-day ; I've much to tell ye. \Exit ivith BABECAN. TONIE. {Lingering hrhind, approaches the alcove and in a low voice in passing. Put thy trust in Heaven ! Fur love siiall triumph, and thy bonds be riven. lExit. The Curtain Falls. 5S WILD FLOWERS, ACT III. A fii-est scene. A Jagnnn in the hach gronnd. In the forfijronnd arms stacked, and various military accoutrements lying about. Col. STEOMLT, EDTTAED, ADOLPH, FEEDINAND, and four privatn-, iilf in uniform resting in various postures. At the rear of the stajc a sentinel paces to and fro. STROMLY. And still no message ! Can it be that Uiistave Has lost his way ? Sure, it cannot be far From here to Cape Francois, and when he h^ft He said that he would speedily return — I can not comprehend this strange delay. ADOLrH. Perhaps he waits the friendly shades of night; Tlie roads are thronged with bands of roving negroes ; We dare not run the risk of being seen. FERDINAN©. We ought to know the enemy's position ; I think, therefore, it is advisable THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 59 For one of us to trace these forest paths, And find an outlet westward, where the clearing Allows an ample view. EDUARD. Let me go, father. STROMLY. The plan is good, but to insure success Ecquires experience ; I will go myself. ADOLPH. Nay, father, nay ! We will not let thee risk Thy precious life upon a task like this ! 'Tis ours by all the holy ties of nature ; We, as thy sons, refuse the sacrifice. EDUARD. What Adolph says is true. I'll try my luck ! ■ To lose thee, father, were to lose all hoj)e ; While, should I perish, ye may still escape. FERDINAND. Father, remain. ADOLPH. Let Eduard try it, father ! STROMLY. Well, children, be it so. Eduard, my son. Seek to the westward, with a cautious foot, This gloomy forest's nearest boundary, 60 WILD FLOWERS. There reconnoitre skillfully, and find The enemy's position, if you can. Farewell ! my own, my dear, heroic boy — God bless thee ! \Iimhracti him, EDUARD. Father, brothers ! fare ye well ! Heaven grant That I may soon return with joyful news. STROMLY. Shouldst thou not find us here on thy return, Lo(^k for us at the next plantation, Eduard ; Thou knuwest the way. Farewell, sir ! EUUAIID. Au revoir! [Exit. STROMLY. A brave boy, that ! — My children, did ye dream So rich a mine of manhood's sterling gold Lay hid beneath that gay disguise of his ? Oh, what a blessing is a virtuous child ! It is the lairest gift that heaven can give us ! In truth, I know, no matter how I fiire, That I am wealthy in the honest love. The faithful friendship of my gallant sons ! THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 61 FERDINAND, Father, in praising us dost thou forget Our noble cousin Gustave's greater claim Upon thy generous heart ? The bravest man That ever drew a sword in honor's cause Or made his breast a bulwark for his friends, On the red fields of Mars ! — Ye well remember 'Twas he who, single handed, clove the foe, And twice, my father, saved thine honored life Upon that bloody day at Fort Dauphin STROMLY. By Jove ! he fights as doth become a Swiss, The brave descendant of great Winkelried ; Indeed, he is a friend most true and gallant, Whom, like a son, I love with proud affection. May heaven preserve him to our grateful liearts. THE SENTINEL. I see a woman hurrying down the })ath ; In rapid flight she comes this way. STROMLY. A negress ? SENTINEL. A wliite girl, Colonel. She detects me now — She beckons — and increases her wild speed. eB WILD F LOWERS. TTROMLY. What can she want with us ? Be ready, boys ! All rise, and hasten in the direction of the aentinel. Enter tonie with dishevelled Iiair, and 7uarly breathless. TONIE. Are ye from Fort Daupliin ? Yes, ye are Fi-ench- men ! Thank God, I am with friends 1 STROMLY. What woiildst thoii, girl ? TONIE, To arms ! to arms ! No moment mnst be lost, For life or death depends upon your speed 1 If there be love and courage in your hearts, Away, away! he dies within an hour — Detain me not with questions — save him ! savo him ! ADOLPn. What dreadful fate impends ! STROMLY. Explain thyself! Who needs assistance ? Whom are we to save ? TONIE. Your daring comrade, Gustave ! — Hasten ! hasten ! THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 63 STEOMLY. Ha ! Gustave ?— Heavenly Father ! FERDINAND. Hapless friend ! ADOLPH. Woman ! can he be saved ? What is the ransom ? Quick, tell us quick ! What can be done to save him? TONIE. He is a captive in Hoango's hands ; To-day they would have slain him ; but my cunning Gciined a short respite for him. I depend Upon your aid to help me in his rescue ; Thus far hath heaven smiled upon my task. Now, follow me at once, and he is saved ! I'll guide ye to a postern, which will give us Admittance to the garden, and the court-yard ; The negroes, in their huts are sound asleep. Nor reck of coming danger. All their arms Are stacked around the yard. A few nails driven Deftly between the latches of their doors, Prevent their egress. With our captive friend Once in our midst, by old, familiar paths I'll take ye safely to Cape Francois. Come ! 6^ WILD PLOWMRS. Why will ye linger thus ? Or can it be Ye are afraid to risk your lives for him ? STROMLY. Children, away ! Our Gustave must be saved, Though we should perish in the brave attempt ! We owe this duty to our sacred honor, And love deniiuuls our noblest sacrifice — A coward, he wlio longer would delay I TONIE. Give me a sword ! The flashing steel inspires The heart to daring deeds ! My spirit thrills With god-like inspiration ! Love has nerved My woman's hand with the resistless power Which plucks the starry crowns that heroes wear! [ADOI.ni gives her a sivord and pistols. These she fastens in hi:r girdle. Death ? Death ? what is it ? 'Tis the crown of life, If ])\\i oin- lives be true, and brave and nol)l(> ! The coward fears to die ; exalted souls Have higher aims than life alone, to live fir. Snch, 0, my friends, be ours. Then, follow me, In God we trust, and love is victory ! ALL. [Jirandishing their swords. In God we trust, and love is victory ! [Exit rapidly. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. SCENE II. Tlie room, used at the end of Act II. gustave pacing to and fro ; his arms pinioned. An armed negro guarding the door. GUSTAVE. — (solus.) Avaunt ! perfidious image of my dreams ! Hoping against all hope, my heart still grasps At phantoms of the air. Avaunt, I say ! Was ever such a deed of shame ! A woman Feigns every dear, bewitching test of love, Aping the holiest feelings of the soul, And then, within her lover's very arms, Conceives a horrid plot for his destruction ! Oh, Tonie ! Tonic ! and couldst tJiou do this ? Thou ? for whose sake I gladly would have died ! Ah, couldst thou harbor in thy breast a crime So foul, so vile as this ? — It can not be ; Nay, nny ! The scope of such a direful shame Would stretch beyond the bounds of humoi, nature, And, like the universe, be limitless ! To such a lofty peak of villainy No mortal woman ever dared to climb I 66 WILD FLOlVERS. Could such things be, forsootli, 'twere perilous To lavish fondness on a turtle dove ; The i)erfuine of tlie lily would be poison ; A lamb, the symbol of inhuman hate, And lu'll were fair^-r tlian the courts of heaven! Nay, Tonie, nay ! Thy happy innocence Was no disguise, assumed but to decieve me ; No vi})er in the roses of thy lips Lies curled, to taint their" honey-dew with poison! Thy }iarting words came from a faithful heart — I caimot understand, but I will trust thee 1 HOANGO. I Entering, aihlresies: the sentinel. Go down into the yard, and there await me ; The prisoner needs no guard ; he dies to-day ! [Exit sentirteL Turning to oustave.] Well, stranger ! art thou pleased with San Do- mingo ? How dost thou like our hospitality? We treat you fellows kindly, do we not? Ha! ha! ha! GUSTAVE. For shame ! To mock a prisoner ! THE MAW OF SAN-DOMINGO. 67 HOANGO. Egad ! 'tis all tlicat tl.ou deservest, Frenchman ! Did not thy wretched, boastful race declare That we, despised, degraded blacks would fall Like leaves before the whirling hurricane. Should we but dare to raise our hands against you, Or fail to serve you like submissive slaves ? Nay, hell and fury ! do it if ye can ! Ye shall not and ye can not con(juer us — No foreign foot must desecrate our soil ! Thou and thy people are foredoomed to perish ; Thine, and thy comrades' blood, a sweet libation. We pour upon the altars of our gods — • Talk not of mercy ! GUSTAVE. Have I asked for mercy ? Our fathers sowed the wi'ong — we reap the fruits ; The innocent do suffer for the guilty — So goes the world ! If thou wouldst murder me, Why, do it, and so spare thy idle boasting, 0, brave assassin of defenceless men ! IIOANGO. We care not for tlie rules and grace of war, With which ye cut eacli other's throats in Europe ; That is the game of kings — we are but slaves. 68 WILD FLOWERS. Extermination, utter and complete, To every white wretch living in Domingo, TTas l)oen our motto, and shall ever be ! The white man's rule is only fit for slanres, And Ilayti must be free ! ( The report of a musket shot is heard. -; Another follows in quick succession ; ( iioANGo, in great excitement. ITa ! where was that ? BABECAN. [Ru^hivrf into the room with a wild scream. Hoango ! help ! help ! help ! Wo are betrayed ! A troop of Frenchmen have attacked the house ! Thy men have been imprisoned in their huts — 0, hasten, Conjo, ere it be too late ! Let thy strong arm disperse tlie knaves ! GUSTAVE. — (Aside.) Kind heaven ! Th(>y are my comrades ; generous, noble friends, May God reward the gallant deed I HOANGO. [Who has rushed to the window, and is looking out of it. Damnation ! The Frenchmen have possession of tlie yard — May swift perdition seize the yelling hounds I THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 69 BABECAN. I hear their footsteps on the stairs ! They come ! Oh, save us ere it be too late, Hoango ! HOANGO. [Brandishing his sabre rushfs upon oustave. Die, villain ! Thou, at least, shalt not rejoice At my defeat ! (As HOANGO is aiming a blow at oostave's head, tonie. ;)tV -< tol. in hand, rushes into the room, and perceiving gustavk's \_danger, fires at hoanuo, who falls mortally u-oundcd. Damnation ! I am shot ! GUSTAVE. [ With a gesture of intense surprise. Tonie 1 TONIE. Gustave ! ( She rtisheB to gustave, cuts the thongs \ that bind him, and they embrace. BABECAN. — (Aside.) Oh, that I were dead i f Colonel STKOMLY, FERDINAND, ADOLPH and \ their companions rush into the room. STROMLY. My son ! GUSTAVE. Dear friends and comrades, I am free ! STROMLY. Thank heaven, and yonder smiling angel I 70 WILD FLOWERS. GUSTAVE. Tonie! j\Iy Itiiivc and darling girl ! My trust in tliee, Thank (xod, was nnt in vain ; and tliungh I faik'd To conijavliond, in full, tliy itL'crless nature, Yet ditl I hope. STROMLY. [I'uilitinil a' Uif Imdij fi/OOS.ro IIOANGO. Is this the 1'anious Oonjo ? Wiio slew the monster? GUSTAVE. Tonie's steady hand Sj)Oedfd the fatal hullct ihrou^li his Inart, As, blind with ia'j,e and liate, he drew his sword To strike nie dead ! STROMLY. Her courage shames ouv own ! Twice liath she saved thee from destruction, Gus- tave. TON IE. ( Walks sinwiy up tn mnECAN, who slatids, with iiirrrtfd fiicf, ill t'lr rfiir nf tlir fjroiij) mutter' l^ini/; slie touches her with her linml. Oh. mother curse us not! I C!)uld not help it! BABECAX. Away, ungniteful wietch ! and touch me not! If curses are as deathless as my hate. THE MAID OF SAN-DOMINGO. 71 Bo tlie eternity of licU thy portion ! Go with these knaves, thou traitress ! and forget Thy wronged, tliy outcast mother, and her shame ; But mark me! ye shall not escape my wrath — A phantom of ineffable despair, Of woe and vengeance unai)peasahle, My ghost shall haunt ye, wheresoe'er ye go ! The grass shall wither noath your feet, the skies Shall drop a blighting i)oisou on your heads, Your children shall be TONIE. [StruggUng to place her Imnd on babecan's mouth. Mother ! mother ! hush ! BABECAN. [Thrusting TONIE aside violently. Away ! ye cannot triumith over me — Thus Babecan defies her foes ! (Sidiivgthe nclinn to the word.', daufcan plunges < a (laf/qer. which she had hidden in her clothing, (into Iter breast, and/alls. TONIE. [With a scream drof $ upon her mother''s body. My mother ! . r All rush to the spot, and nusTAVE attempts to raise < BABrc vy 8 hrad ; while doing w-, 'he 'niter makes a ( feeble attempt to stab hint, and with a groan, eipires. GUSTAVE. [Endeavoring to raife Tojtip tendtrly from her mother's corpse. Tonie ! 72 WILD FLOWERS. STROMLT. Disturb her not, but let her weep ! Such tears become her true and k)vin<:j licart ; With them she buries what was once her mother ! EDUARD. \BaMXy entering the ronm. Father ! brothers ! comrades all, good news ! Tidings of joy to crown your victory ! 'Twas grand — I know it all ! But hear me friends, The enemy is moving to the west. At some point concentrating all his forces, The highway is deserted ; we can reach Cape Francois unmolested by to-night ; The forest stretches nearly to the city ; A path, which I discovered in my scout, Will take us straightway to Fort Rochambeau. STROMLY. My hand, brave boy, for thy most welcome tidings ! We taste the sweet fruition of our hopes ; Let us away, my friends ! One effort more, And soon our happy homes beyond the sea. Will greet us once again, where we may rest. Safe from the carnage, and the toils of war. THE MAID OF SAN-DOM J A GO. 7i GUSTAVE. [Raising TOyiE and fondly embracing her. Come, Tonie, come ! To thee I owe my life — To thee will I devote it. Follow me ! Be my companion to love's blissful shores ; Beneath the shelter of her blissful bowers Shall angels crown us with immortal flowers, The happy guerdon of our constancy. TONIE. [Weeping and resting her head upon otTSTAVE's armvlder. Saved, Gustave, saved ! Thou art forever mine ! 'Tis all I ask— STROMLY. [Approaching them, and joining their hands. For earth and heaven are thine ! [Addressing the audience. See ! love and faith have gained the victory — •'Trust God and fear not" shall their motto be ! The Curtain FuUs. WILD FLOWERS. OREETIKO. 17u brook, whose vmsic chanM the dell, Wakes, in our dreaming mimls, An echo of the nobler shell The mighty Sea-god winds ; So mail my harp, thr the tidings that came When seraphs descended on Bethlehem's plain, And low, in a manger, the Holy One lay : "Who taketh the sins of the world away" ! VIII. To the Lord of Sabaoth ! the Heavenly King ! Let the sweet harp of Zion eternally ring ! The Light of the world that came down from the skies, Dispelling the gloom of our mortal eyes. IX. The crucified Jesus ! for sinners slain ; The Godhead, whose glory the heavens proclaim 1 The Friend of the lowly ! the guide of the lost, The Father ! the Son ! and the Holy Ghost 1 X. Then let the voice of nations In choral hymns aspire ! Wake in His Holy temples The Spirit's sacred fire ! In lioniiige of the dawning Of earth's divinest day, When in the stall at Bethlehem The infant Jesus lay ! WILD FLOWERS. 91 GKADUATING HYMN. With yearning hearts we turn to gaze On paths our feet have lately trod, That lead, in wisdom's flowery maze, " Through nature up to nature's God" ; How wide the pleasing prospect lies 1 A fairy realm of boundless scope, Where Life, beneath unclouded skies, Lies dreaming in the lap of Hope. And now, with slow, reluctant hand We drop the curtain of the past, And glide from childhood's golden strand Into an ocean, dim and vast — A sea, whose solemn billows chime The music of supernal spheres. And holds within its breast sublime, The garnered treasure of the year. Thou, to whom creation pays Eternal homage ! grant us still WILD FLOWERS. Thy loving care in all our ways, And guide us by Thy holy will ; Teach us the wisdom of the skies, The lore, from guile and error free, By which the spirit gains the prize Of blissful immortality I WILD FLOWERS. 93 BEAUTIFUL STAR OF EVENING. SERENADE SONG. I. Beautiful star ! whose golden beams Kindle the light of lovers' dreams ; Fairest of jewels that gem the skies — Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! Over the brim, Distant and dim, Of the faintly-sighing sea, Soft as a kiss, Brimful of bliss, Murmuring westwinds herald thee. CHORUS. Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; Crown with thy light our trysting tree — Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. 94 WILD FLOWERS. II. Beautiful star ! thy presence brings Beauty and peace, on holy wings ; Under the spell of thy blissful beam Time is an angel's fairest dream ! Waiting for thee, Over the lea Summer fjays. in mazy roats Merrily trip. Seeking to sip Dew from the blooming sun-set clouds. CHORDS. Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; .Crown with thy light our trysting tree — Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. III. Beautiful star ! the nightingale Deep in the gloom of grove and dale, Voiceless flutters from bough to bough, Waiting the glint of thy golden brow ; Even so we. Dreaming of thee, Wait to see thy sacred flame WILD FLOWERS. Beaming delight Over the night, Waiting the voice of Love's sweet pain ! CHORUS. Beautiful Star of Evening, rise ! Bless with thy beams our longing eyes ; Crown with thy liglit our trysting tree — Beacon of Love ! we wait for thee. WILD FLOWERS. VIOLETS. Visible spirits of light and hope ! Beautiful bairns of the sky ! Bless\l be the elfin, whose music broke The sleep of your azure eye, When first the sighing south-wind woke, And S})ring was nigh. Morning-star heralds of dawning spring ! Sprites of the young years' dream ! Not in the clamorous city's din — The realm of the Titon, steam — Your fragrance scents the zephyr's wing Your bright eyes beam ; In the deep shadow of woodland glens ; On the bright brink of the rills ; Decking with azure and golden chains The breasts of the royal hills — 'Tis there ye sweetest charm the sense, Fair miracles ! WILD FLOWERS. 91 Hidden, like pearls in the ocean caves, Slowly your beauties expand ; Dreaming, though wildly the winter wind rives, Of spring, and her magic wand. Whose touch can change a waste of graves To Fairy-land I 9S WILD FLOWERS. GLOOM AND GLORY. All without is dai'k and dreary, And against my window pane Sadly, like a spirit weary Of its purgatorial chain, Taps the ghastly autumn rain. On the dark, dead moor are crawling Cloud-shapes, cold and serpentine ; Dense the with'ring leaves are falling ; And from out the tarn's green slime Rings the crane's threnodic rhyme. In the air the tempest jjoises. Ruin on his whirring wings ; Birds have hushed their blithsome voices ; And the naiads of the springs Rend their wild harps' sweetest strings. Forests robed in faded glory Moan, and chide the sunless day ; Rivers hasten on before me WILD FLOWERS. 09 Into darkness ; far away Glide the sea waves, ashen gray ; For the summer's heart is broken, Crushed, and crownless now she lies ; Earth's majestic harp hath woken Eequiem strains and symphonies ; Heaven in sorrow drapes the skies. Ah, ye ghostly glooms about me ! Chilling rain, and blurring blast ! How your dreadful shadows shroud me, Drag me down, and chain me fast To the foul, accursed specter of the past ! Who careth for rain, for the ghostly rain That the sad, bleak autumn briiigeth ? Or the cry of pain in the tempest's strain ? Or the knell that the forest ringeth ? Let nature tear her golden hair. And winnow with phantom wings the air, And utter her cries till the pitying skies Grow sad, and unveil not their radiant eyes ! Why care for the death of the fair ? Why care for the glory, that passeth With the beautiful summer away, 100 WILD FLOWERS. And is lost, like the voice of the river, Kushing by with its hillows <;ray ? If the heart hath its sumnier within it Need it care for the winter without ? Need the soul, lit with sunliglit infinite, Fear the gloom of a passing cloud ? A cheerful lu art in sorrow, A hapi)y soul in death ; A life whose iairest crowning Is love, and hope, and f;iith : These are things wliich are fairer than weather Wherein hasketli the lush rose of June, More sweet than the honey of heather! More rare than the Niglitingale's tune! Nor miss -vVe the music of summer If Heaven's sabhath-harp, in our breast We can wake, from its passionless rest, To soothe tlie rapt soul into slumber, With golden-rhymed dreams without number Of the fair summer-land of the blest ! WILD FLOWERS. lOl LOVE IN ABSENCE. FROM THE GERMAN OF WIELAND. By the river's silent waters Oit I sit in lonely woe, And I measure by the flow Of tlie weary waves, tlie moments Since we parted long ago. Of tliee alnly charmed the air, To tremulous music gathering on his tongue, At last the red lips cleft, and thus he cried : " Oh, mother look ! look there ! " and then he said " See how the angels beckon me to come ! On yonder clouds they stand, their golden wings All folded till I come. Last night they came Here to my bed, when I was all alone, And then they told me that a golden crown, WILD FLOWERS. Ill And golden harp awaited me in heaven, And they would soon retiwn to take me there. Dear mother, have they come ? Oh, let me go !" The tiny hand, which eagerly had sought To clasp the mother's arm imploringly. Fell softly back, and like a snow-flake lay Gleaming beside him. Gently o'er the eyes Drooi^'d the dark lashes, glistening with tears. And like some flower that meek and silently Bows to the road -side dust its shining crown. Bruised unto death by some ungentle hand, So passed this blossom from the earth away. From that dear head, (which now no more would need The tender soothing of a mother's touch), Slowly her hand the weeping mother drew. And, kneeling close beside the silent couch, God's holy benediction fell upon her. And years have passed since o'er her darling's form The dark grave closed ; full many a fragrant flower Has sprung to greet the singing summer days, Or blent its faded glory with his dust ; 118 WILD FLOWERS. But still, as day upon his fianiing car KoUs through the closing portals of the west, And twilight glimmers over land and sea, This mother's eyes, with dreamy glance will scan Tlie pnrpling heavens, and watch the fading clouds Waste their ephemeral splendors on the air ; And as her fancy's busy fingers weave The black and golden threads of life together, A shape will flit athwart the dying sun, Celestial glory flashing on the sight, — The angel-image of her happy child That passed at sunset through the gates of Heaven. WILD FLOWERS. 119 05 WANDERING. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. UDder the trees I'll rest me, here Where the warblhip; birds are swinging Piping the notes to my heart so dear — Sweet birds ! that seem my soul to bear Away, with tlieir dreamy singing. To yonder brook's side I'll rejDair, And rest 'mid the blooms and cl)ver; Sweet flowers ! that bloom like my absent fair, Greetings and tokens of love ye bear To the heart of her wanderin-^ lover I 120 WILD FLOWERS, CARL. ADDRESSED TO MY INFANT SON. Carl ! there is something in the name that rings Like the rude music of strange Runic rhymes, Blent with the sough of sea-ward facing pines, That erst did greet the ocean's merry kings, The Gorms and Alvars of the old Norse times : x\nd hence I love it ; as I love the dash And roar of waters in wild mountain glens Or the weird voices of the elements, When wind, and rain, and thunders whirl and crash. And hissing lightnings Si3ring from cloudy dens. A name 'twould seem, scarce meet for thee to hear. My gentle child, my own, my dark-eyed boy ! Song of my soul ! my bosom's perfect joy ! Thou, like the dainty May bells, frail and fair, Whom a rude touch would wither and destroy. WILD FLOWERS. 121 Yet they who bore it hi the days of eld Werp men of prowess, staunch and sturdy wights ; Bold Bayards of the sea, King Arthur Knights ; Heroes, that bore from Iceland to the Sclieldt, Victorious bamiers through a thousand figlits ; — And such as they were would I have thee be. My boy ! when grown to manhood's proud estate, In all its strength and nobleness arrayed. Thou enterest life's arena eagerly, With bounding pulse, and heart with hope elate ; But not for glory, conquest, spoils and fame. As did these ancient rovers of the seas, Fling thou thy banner to the stormy breeze ;^- Glory like theirs is but immortal shame. And taints the womb of ages with disease ; Live thou a life thy Saviour will approve, When God's dark angel. Death, shall call thcc- hence ; Be thou the champion of fair innocence, Be true as steel to honor and to love, And for the right a stalwart, sure defense ; 122 WILD FLOWERS. And if thou fallest in the fearful strife, Fall like a hero — face-ward to the foe ! God's liHes on thy peaceful grave will blow. And from the ashes of thy fruitful life Th' immortal germs of truth shall spring and A LARK her nnlle(lj:^ed yoiins: had hid Within a fiekl of ri])ening wheat ; But fearing that, when she was gone, The owner of the field woiikl come To reap, and garner in the grain, And thus her progeny be slain. She told her brood to list with care To every word that they might hear The master of the grain-field say. Whenever she miglit be away. One day the farmer, near the nest. Said to his S'>n : " I think 'tis best To reap the grain ; — we'll call our neighbors To-morrow, to assist our labors." The young ones, on the lark's return, Told her what they had heard that morn. And begg'd her somewhere else to go ; — '•No need ol haste," she said, " i know 166 WILD FLOWERS. If he depends on other's aid The harvest will not soon be made." Next day the farmer came ai^ain, But neither friend nor neig'lihor came To Ik'1]) liini reap the ripeii'd g-rain ; The sun grew hot, but nought was done, Then said the farmer to his son ; " We can't depend on friends or neighbors To help us in our harvest labors, Go ask assistance of our kin ; To-morrow morning we'll begin." In great alarm the frightened birds Told the old lark the farmer's words ; " If that be all," the mother said, "We run no risk of danger yet ; For all his relatives, 'tis known, Have harvest labor of their own ; But wlien the men again appear, Mark well, and tell me all you hear." The lark once more had gone abroad, When next his field the farmer sought. The o'er-ripe wheat-heads, golden crown'd, Their treasures scatter'd on the ground, WILD FLOWERS, 167 And finding still no labor done, The farmer said unto his son : " This thing I can no more endure, Nor wait for help ;— go, and procure This very evening sickles twain. To-morrow, ive will reap the grain." When this the old lark heard, she said : "Ah ! now 'tis time to move, indeed ; For when a man counts not on friends, But to his work himself attends, Be sure he promptly pushes through Whate'er his hands have found to do." lOS WILD FLOWERS. THE LION AND THE FOUR BULLS.-iEsoi' EouK bulls, by friendly feelings swayed, Once on a time a treaty made To lir.iwse at all times close to2;ether Willie waiiu'ring in the juicy jieatlier, And tlius by banded streng'th. defy A lion, who was lurking nigh. The lion, from a neighboring grove Had olten watched the stately drove, Hoping a bull would choose to stray Far from the rest, some luckless day, And so become an easy prey ; For well the cunning lion knew Attacking all would never do. But soon he found the hope was vain, And so he tried another game — Witli nods, and wiuks, and whisperings, And hints, and slurs, and such like things. The lion worked upon their minds, And prospered well in his designs ; WILD FLOWERS. 169 For jealousies, and angry blood, Began to mar the brotherhood ; The hatred grew from day to day, Each from the other turned away. And soon the lion, from his station, Beheld their total separation — His end was gained ; and, greatly pleased, The separated bulls he seized. And soon devoured them, one by one, A thing he never could have done, Had they not listen'd to his crafty tongue, But lived in happy union, safe and strong. 170 WILD FLOWERS. THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.— issop Where, sparkling down a hillside, ran A brook, with music sweet, To quench their thirst, a wolf and lamb Once chanced to meet ; The wolf the crystal current lapp'd High up the green hill-side. While, far below, the meek lamb crept To taste the cooling tide ; The wily wolf, upon a quarrel bent That would secure the prize which chance had sent, At once into a passion flew, And to the lamb said : " How dare Disturb this brook's translucent flood, And meanly fill the stream vith mud While I am drinking ? — For this naughty action I now demand the fullest satisfaction ! " The lamb, with look of deep contrition, And frighten'd, said : " With your permission, WILD FLOWERS. 17 J Allow me, sir, at least to say The stream runs doivmvard, all the way ; I stuod below, — and you above, Therefore, my lord, I beg you, prove How I'm in fault, or how you find me guilty Of having made your lordship's water filthy ? " " Well, be that as it may ; I vow You are a rascal, anyhow," The wolf retorted ; •' Six months ago you banter'd me, Behind my back you slander'd me ; 'Tis so reported." " I was not born," the wond'ring lamb oxclaim'd " Six months ago, the time your lordship named ! " The wily wolf found He was losing gi'ound The argument tlius to pursue ; So, Av axing in ire, With eyeball on fire, And frothing mouth, nearer he drew • "Sinah ! ''" he cried, "your plea is naught ; The mischief was done By you, or your father, and well I wot That is all one " — And the wolf slew the innocent lamb on the spot. m WILD FLOWERS. THE COCK AND THE JEWEL.— .t:sop. A BRISK young cock, with his chicking niat(-. In tlie barn-yard strutting, with lordly state, Was scratching for food on a dunghills' side, When a costly gem in the filth he spied ; He knew "twas a jewel, fit for a (jueen, By its flawless beauty, and lustrous sheen, But being too stupid to comprehend To what use he could jjut the ornament, He tried to cover his want of sense With gay contempt, and show of jiretense ; — Clapping his wings, and shaking his head, With grimace and shrug the young cock said "A very fine thing, I admit that you are. But you've no business here ; and I declare Without hesitation, or scruple of mind, A different way my taste's inclined. And a grain of sweet barley alone prefers To the jewels of all the universe." WILD FLOWERS. 17S THE FROG AND THE FOX.— ^sop. ^ FROG emerging from the mud, Upon the quagmire's margin stood, And thence, with sounding phrase, proclaimed To all the earth, that he was named The Great Physician, greater even Than ^sculap, M. D. of Heaven ! And with his drugs, and famous pills, Could cure the world of all its ills ; At last the fox, indignant, cried : "'Tis evident that you have lied ; Your limping gait, and wrinkled skin, Your crooked legs, and visage thin, Declare yom- brazen im])udence That would insult our common sense, For how dare you pretend, you ugly elf! To cure the world, and fail to cure yourself? " 17 Jt WILD FLOWERS. THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.— ^sop, A HUNGRY fox, in seanli of prey, Into a viiii'vanl cliancecl to stray ; Ripe p;rapes, in tempting bunclu'S, Imng Upon a trellis, high and strong; With many a tiresome lea}) he tries To reach the sweet and tempting prize ; But, finding all his efforts vain, The 1):illled 'io^ affects disdain : • Let such as choose these grajtes devour, I'll touch them not, for they are sour." WILD FLOWERS lib THE BOWMAN AND THE LION. A HCTNTKR. .skilled in archery, Went forth to hnnt one day ; 'JMie 1 leasts, alarmed at his approach, All, i!ell-mell, ran away, Only the lion seemed inclined To dare the coming fray ; Drawing an ;urow to the head The howman to the lion said: "I wish to tell you something, sir, Wait, and receive my messenger ; " Swift to the mark the missile flew. The lion's thick hide ]iierciiig thi-oiigh — Smarting with ])ain, the woniKhnl l)e;i.st Hies to the sheltering woods in haste ; " Ho!" cried the fnx, who saw him flee, •■Return, and face the enemy ; " "Nay," said the lion in reply, " Such folly I will never try, For if thus strong the herald who attends him, How mightier still must he the power that sends liim ! " :?'7^ iVILD FLOWERS. THE TWO POTS.— .Esop. A SUDDEN inuiulution caught An earthen and a brazen pot, Which on the river's margin stood, And swept them out upon the il().)d. Said brass pot to his eartlien mate : "Come to my side ; be not afraid, I will defend you, brotlier ; " "I thank you," said the othrr, "For the proposal you have nia(l(>, But 'tis of you I'm most afraid ; Dash r on »du, or you on me, The siitlcrci- I am sni'e to lie ; So I prefer to float alone, And beg you will nol nearer come. " WILD FLOWERS. ni THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOR.— .esop. A MOUNTAIN once, (no matter in what year), Was said to be in labor ; such a quaking, Unearthly groaning, rumbling, roaring, shaking, Was never known before. From far and near The people came, and round the mountain stood, An anxious, whispering, wondering multitude ; Long time +bey watched, to see the monstrous birth Burst through the walls of its huge prison-house At last, from the rent mountain's side, creeps forth A mouse. 178 WILD FLOWERS. THE BELLY AND ITS MEMBERS.— .Esor. Long time ago, beyond the reacli Of any man's imagination, Tlie Body's parts, endowed with speech, Forgot their i>uri)0ses and station, And so, in solemn convocation, Tliey eacli and all, resolved to teach Their brother, Belly, by rebellion, That he was nothing but a leech, A lazy, good-for-nothing scullion. Who gained Ids living and support. By what their labor could aiford ; Therefore they swore, by earth and skies, To cut him off from all sup})]ies : — "I," said the Hand, "will never raise A finger to increase his days ; " "I," said the Mouth, "refuse to take Food offered for the Belly's sake ; " The Teeth : "If we his rations chew May we be rotten, through and through ! " WILD FLOWERS. 179 This solemn covenant and league The rebels scarcely kept a week, For soon they found their strength decay, And the whole Body waste away ; Thus forced, by stern experience, To learn that they could not dispense With their despised brother member. The Belly, they proposed surrender ; Convinced that one, no matter who. Without the other could not do. And that the Body's health is then the best When each, in friendly concord, aids the rest. 180 WILD FLOWERS. THE WIND AND THE SUN.— iEsop. Between the North-wind and the Sun Arose a friendly disputation ; Each claimed to be the stronger one, And precedence in station ; This question of supremacy Tlie disj)utants agreed should be Decided thus : "Who, for his sake, Shall first the traveler force to take His cloak off, hath the victory." Then blow the Wind his coldest blast, Whelming the land with sleet and shower, The traveler, however, grasp'd His cloak the tighter, and the power That ruled the pitylessly pelting storm Served but to fold it closer to his form. Then came the Sun ; his welcome beam Shone bright on grove, and field, and str^^am, And on the plodding traveler's head WILD FLOWERS. 181 The glory of the heavens was shed ; But as the sun more fervent grew, Far from his side his cloak he threw, And, by the waxing heat oppress'd. The grove he sought, for shade and rest — The sun had gained the victory ! For love and kindness stronger be Than blustering force and tyranny. 182 WILD FLOWERS. THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.— ^sop. An Ass put on a Lion's skin, And in this guise went roaniino; ; His silly mates, from fieUl and l)in Fled, when they saw him coming ; Elated with success, he tries To scare a Fox whom he espies Across the pasture straying : "Ah," said the Fox, "you would indeed In fright'ning me to death succeed, Had I not heard thee braying.'' Wild flowers. iss THE OLD MAN AND DEATH.— ^sop. An aged man, who long upon his back A burden bore, Sank in despair upon his toilsome track, Weary and sore : And called on Deatli his misery to end Foreverniore ! Death straightway came : " What dost thou want. my friend ? " "To rise again," he said ; "thine aid I meant But to implore." THE END. GILL'S WOEKS, UNIFORM IN IMITATION MOROCCO. I. Evolution and Progress. An ex- pbsitioii and Defence. 295 pp. - - $1.50 II. Analytical Processes; or, The Pri- mary Principal of Piiilosophy. 483 pp. $2.00 III. Christian Conception and Ex- perience. 238 pp. - - - - $1.00 _^s©~ tbr sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by mail, iwstage free, on receipt of price by the Publishers. THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY, 27 Bond Street, New York. AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY'S rrsTAT book:s. The Authors' Publishing Company ivill send any of tht followinij books by mail, j^ostaye prepaid, to any part of tht United States, on receipt of the price. HIGHER THOUGHT. Evolution and Progress: All Expusilidii and Defence. The Fonndation of Evolution Pliilosopliically Expounded, and its Argu- ments (divested of insiffiiiiicant and distracting physical details) succinctly stated; together with a review of leading opponents, as Dawson and Winchell, and qnasi-opi)onents, as Le Conte and Carpenter. By Key. William I. Gill, A. M., of Newark Conference, N. J. The fast rohone of the International Prize ISeries. TiiiuD Edition. Cloth extra, imitation morocco, fine })aper, 295 pp., 12mo., Price . $1 50 Each volume in this series was awarded a prize of Two Hundred Dollars in addition to copyright, in a competition which was ojjen one year to the world, and where over three hundred manuscripts were submitted and read. DESCRIPTIVE OPJyJOKH OF EVOLUTION A.SD PKOGKESS. One of our most caiulid and Iboughtfiil writers.— Dr. Crane. .He Is a clear and strong reasoner. — Cincinnati I'lirialidv Standnrd. A partieularly slroiie arKutuewt. —Evaiisville (Ind.) Dull;/ Journal. It Is ably written. iJullil,') on pliilosoiphical \ir\in'i\Afs. — Ji'ruoklyn Union. The attitude <>r Mr. (ill!, and his eouraj^e lu uiaiiilaining ii, are worthy of tiOte. — A'tto York World. 1 rejoice in all aiteni|>'^* "f this kind, made in a spirit like that which prompts your work.- Ih rhtrt Sjnncer. Mis wntinns are niai kid liv stiong common sense, sound logic, and clear demonstration.— .V^f/i"(/i.»/ Home Journal. , It is a book of original thinking on one of the greatest themes A. keen, tlii>uglufnl, vigorous volume. — CroZti«n Age. lie .strikes witli no velvet glove, but with a steel-clad hand, dealing h".s blows witli equal profusion and inipartialiiy .— A«w; York Trihune. His effort is earnesl, alile and Imkl It presents. In all their naked slreuKlh. Ihoughls ami ai ijiinienis which will have to be met and answered.— The jittltodist. Sew York. THE AUTHORS' PUT^LISHINO CO.'S NEW U00K8. Analytical Processes; Or, The Primary Principle of Pliilosophy. By Eev. William I. CriLL, A. M., uutlior of "Evolution and Progress." The Third Volume of the International Prize Series. Clotli extra, fine paper, uniform with " Evolution and Progress," 450 pp., 12mo. Price $2 00. A work which the committee cannot (lescril)e wiilioiit seeming to exagger- ate. It is marked by extraordinary deptliand originality, and yet it is soclear and convincing as to maKe ils novel conclusions aiiju-ar like familiar common sense.— Frojrt Report of Committee of Prize Awr. ilcCosh, Prest. Princeton College. A specimen of rohust thinking. I am very much gratified with its thorough- ness, acuteness and logical coherence.— i>r. Anderson, PresH Rochester University . Ecclesiology : A Fresh Inquiry as to the Fundamental Idea and Con- stitution of the New Testament Cliurch ; with a Sup- plement on Ordination. By Rev. E. J. Fisii, D. D. Cloth extra, fine paper, 400 pp., 12mo. . Price $2 00. The Beauty of the King : By Hev. a. H. Hollow ay, A. M. . author of "Good "Words for S. S. Teachers," "Teachers' Meetinpcs," etc. Cloth extra, 174 pp. 12mo, $1.00 ; full gilt, heveled edges, $1.25. A remarkably clear, comprehensive and intelligible exposition of the natural and spiritual causes, processes and effects of the birth, life and death of Jesus— a subject much discussed, yet not generally understood now-a-days. Life for a Look : By Rev. A. H. Holloway, A. M. Paper covers, 32mo. Price, 15 cts. Earnest, cogent words, marrowy with the spirit of honest, old-faehionecl Beligiou. THE AUTHORS' PUBLISHING COMPANY'S NEW BOOKS. Christian Conception and Experience. By Rev. Wm. I. Gill, A. M., author of " Evolution and Pro- gress," "Analytical Processes," etc. Imitation Morocco i2ino. .... Price, $i oo. A fresh exposition and argument, practically enforced by a remarkable narra- tive of the conversion of a skeptic through this same argument. While it exhibits in parts the philosophic cast of the author's mind, its vivacious and lucid treatment will create for it a universal interest. This third work — in order of publication — by this fearless investigator, has, in large part, been written since his Trial before the Newark Methodist Episcopal Conference, under the charge of " Heresy," for writing his Evolution and Progress, and it supplies abundant, fresh and vigor- ous thought-pabulum for tlie entertainment of heretics, critics, and Christians alike. Restirrection of the Body. Docs the Bible Teach it ? By E. NiSBET, D. D. With an Introduction by G. VV. Sam- son, D. D., late President of Columbian University, D. C. Fine English cloth, l2mo. Price $l.oo. This is the careful work of an independent thinker and bold investigator. He strips away the trammels of hereditary prejudice, breaks the " old bottles " of un- reasoning bias, and, with invincible logic, enters a field of research which had almost made a coward of thought. He begs no questions, makes no special plead- ings, but meets the issue in its full front with such clean honesty and consummate ability that the book will interest and instruct every fair-minded reader, and charm and gratify every earnest student. Meverend Green IViUingivood ; Or, Life Among the Clergy. By Rev. Robert Fisher. Silk cloth, in ink and gold, i2mo. In Press. With a resolute spirit and a knightly lance the Rev. Green Willingwood fights the battles of his brother clergymen. His battle ground is in the midst of every congregation. His armament is comprised of faithful work, hearty humor and deli- cate satire. In short. Rev. Green Willingwood says and does precisely that which is wont to be said and done, but which, for obvious reasons, cannot be spoken from the pulpit nor accomplished direcdy in the pastorate. NEW DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE 0¥ Tll^ AUTHORS' PUBLISHING GO'S. Publications, supplied free on application in person at 27 BOND ST., NEW YORK, or mailed on re- ceipt of stamp. ■:iiE ai;tii<»k.s iM;ni,isM!iNO co.s nf.w i'.ooks. PRACTICAL THOUGHT. Mercantile Prices and Profits; Or the Valuation of Commodities for a Fair Trade. By M. K. TiLOX. Handsomely printed, 8vo., paper, 100 pp., In Press. Tlie author has brought broad experience ajul comprehensive research to bear upon his subjects. His style is terse and perspicuous. He uses the easy anil ccucise language of an educated business man ; and, with wonderful ait, invests every chapter with the grace and charm of a well told story. Monetary Feasts and Famines; Labor, Values, Prices, Foreign and Fair Trade, Scarcity of Money and the Causes of Inflation. By M. K. Pilon, author of "The Grangers." Uniform with "The Grangers," — (In PrefiS.) Gold and Free Banks: Ways to arrive at tlie Demonetization of Gold and Silver, and tlie establishment of Private Banks under control of the National Government. By. M. R. Pilon, author of " The Grangers." Fifth Edition. 8vo., 18G pp., paper cover, . . Price 75 cents. The work is interesting, and especially valuable to financiers.— ./^ersej/ City Daily Jonrnol. He gives exi)ression to a good deal of sound financial principle.— ioitisutiie Daily C'>mniercial. It Is fui. of common sense Valuable for its facts, its thoughts and Its suggestions.- yroy Daily Whio. Is written in an Interesting and popular style and contains much useful In* forniutiou.— Oaftianci, Cal., Daily News. Tlie subject of the high valuation of gold and silver currency is fully dis- cussed, and offers sCine new ideas worthy the attention of those interested id monetary affairs. — jToi^do Commercial. The author is a merchant who has extensively studied t lie currency problem. His hits are often sharp and incisive Mr. I'ilon would provide ample banking facilities for every city, town and village, with both stock and land security.— C'tnciJinati Daily Star. Discussing the currency question in an original, forcible and enter- taining style. The author has brought together a great amount of varied information upon the whole subject of money Those interested will find unquestioned ability in the author's handling of it.— Baltimore Nethodist Protestant. The Manuscript Manual : How to Prepare Manuscripts for the Press — practical and to the point. Paper, 26 pp., 8vo. Price 10 cents. A most useful little companion to the young writerand editor.— T/i*; South, ye to York. Ulves excellent hints to iatcud'ii^ writers. —Cleveland Evan. Me.. Boudvir Edition, French grey and blue cloths, . 75 cents. Tiie systems, ilircct ions and recipes for promoting Personal IJeaiUy, as practiced for tliousandsof years by the renowned beauties of the Orient, and for sccnring the grace and charm for wliich llie Krench Toilelte and Bouiloir are distiiignishe