131HE OOEMS OF ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. BOSTO N: TICKNOR AND FIELDS. i 863. L __ __ ___i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AUTHOR'S EDITION. UNIVERSITVY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, CAMBRIDGE. LEGENDS AND LYRICS. A BOOK OF VERSES. FIRST SERIES. C4" —y DEDICATED TO MATILDA M. HAYS. "Our tokens of love are for the most part barbarous. Cold and lifeless, because they do not represent our life. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Therefore let the farmer give his corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor, coral and shells; the painter, his picture; and the poet, his poem." - Ezersod's Essays. A. A. P. MAY, I858. CONTENTS. Page EGENDS AND LYRICS: A BOOK OF VERSES. First Series.... The Angel's Story.. Echoes... A False Genius 13 My Picture..4 Judge not.6 Friend Sorrow..17 One by One..18 True Honors I9 A Woman's Question 28S The Three Rulers 29 A Dead Past. 30 A Doubting Heart.31 A Student. 33 A Knight Errant 34 Linger, 0 Gentle Time 36 Homeward Bound 37 Life and Death 44 Now 45 Cleansing Fires....... 47 The Voice of the Wind..... 48 Treasures 50 Shining Stars.. Waiting.. 52 The Cradle-Song of the Poor.. 54 Be Strong 56 iv CONVTE~N TS. God's Gifts... 57 A Tomb in Ghent.59 The Angel of Death.. 68 A Dream.. 69 The Present. 70 Changes.. 7I S'trive, Wait, and Pray. 72 A Lament for the Summer. 73 The Unknown Grave 74 Give me thy HIeart.. 75 The Wayside Inn 78 Voices of the Past 84 The Dark Side 85 A First Sorrow 87 tMurmurs 88 Give. go iMy Journal..9 A Chain. 94 The Pilgrims 95 Incompleteness 96 A Legend of Bregenz.. 98 A Farewell. 104 Sowing and Reaping Io5 The Storm..o6 WVords.. o7 A Love Token. Iog09 A Tryst with Death IIo0 VFidelis. III A Shadow I 13 The Sailor Boy. 114 A Crown of Sorrow IS27 The Lesson of the War z. I27 The Two Spirits. I30 A Little Longer.. 133 Grief.. 35 The Triumph of Time. I39 A Parting I40 CONTENTS. v The Golden Gate.. 142 Phantoms.. I43 Thankfulness 145 Itome-Sickness... 146 Wishes. 148 The Peace of God.. I49 Life in Death and Death in Life... II Recollections.. 54 Illusion........ 56 A Vision.. 158 Pictures in the Fire.. 6o The Settlers.. I6 Hush!. 64 Hours..65 The Two Interpreters... I67 Comfort...69 Home at Last..171 Unexpressed..17. 7 Because.. 73 Rest at Evening..75 A Retrospect... 176 IeEGENDS AND LtRIcs: A BOOx OF VERSES. Second Series.. 179 A Legend of Provence.. I8 Envy..1. 92 Over the MIountain.. 193 Beyond... 94 A Warning 1. 96 Maximus...... 198 Optimus....... 199 A Lost Chord.......20 Too Late.......20 The Requital....... 0o5 Returned - " Missing "... 207 In the Wood....... 209 Two Worlds.......210 CONTENTS. A New Mother...... z2z Give Place...... z22 My Will...... 222 King and Slave..... 224 A Chant..... 2215 Dream-Life....... 227 Rest... 228 The Tyrant and the Captive..2. 230 The Carver's Lesson.3... 232 Three Roses......2. 34 My Picture Gallery.... 235 Sent to Heaven....... 238 Never Again..2.... Z40 Listening Angels,...... 241 Golden Days......... 243 Philip and Mildred.2.... 244 Borrowed Thoughts. I. From " Lavater". 256 II. From'' Phantastes".... 257 lII. From " Lost Alice "-.. 258 IV. From * * *..... 259 Light and Shade.... 26o A Changeling. 263 Discouraged... 2.. z64 If Thou couldst know..67 The Warrior to his Dead.-Bride -.. 68 A Letter...... 269 A Comforter 2....... 7 Unseen. 2. 275 A Remembrance of Autumn.... 276 Three Evenings in a Life..... 77 The Wind.. ~..... 29 Expectation. ~.. 293 An Ideal-....294 Our Dead.... 296 A Woman's Answer..... 297 The Story of the Faithful Soul... 299 CONTENTS. vii A Contrast..... 303 The Bride's Dream. 305 The Angel's Bidding. 307 Spring...... 309 Evening Hymn... 311 The Inner Chamber..... 31z Hearts ~... -. 314 Two Loves ~... 316 A Woman's Last Word.. 318 Past and Present... 319 For the Future.. 320 A CHAPLET OF VERSES. The Army of the Lord..33. The Star of the Sea. 336 The Sacred Heart... 337 The Names of Our Lady.. 340 A Chaplet of Flowers..343 Kyrie Eleison. 346 The Annunciation.348 An Appeal..350 The Jubilee of I85o 353 Christmas Flowers.. 355 A Desire 357 Our Daily Bread.. 59 Threefold... 360 Confido et Conquiesco. 362 Ora pro le.. 363 The Church in 1849. 364 Fishers of Men.. 365 The Old Year's Blessing.. 366 Evening Chant....368 A Cxhristmas Carol... 370 Our Titles 372 Ministering Angels.. 373 The Shrines of Mary..374 The Homeless Poor. 381 viii CONTENTS. Milly's Expiation 3. 88 A Castle in the Air.. 402 Per Pacem ad Lucem. 403 A Legend. 404 Birthday Gifts.. 406 A Beggar...411 Links with Heaven.. 413 Homeless...... 14 THE ANGEL'S STORY. HROUGH the blue and frosty heavens Christmas stars were shining bright; Glistening.lamps throughout the City Almost matched their gleaming light; While the winter snow was'lying, And the winter winds were sighing, Long ago, one Christmas night. While, from every tower and steeple, Pealing bells were sounding clear, (Never with such tones of gladness, Save when Christmas time is near,) Many a one that night was merry Who had toiled through all the year. That niglht saw old wrongs forgiven, Friends, long parted, reconciled; Voices all unused to laughter, Mournful eyes that rarely smiled, Trembling hearts that feared the morrow, From their anxious thoughts beguiled. 6 THIE ANGEL'S STORY. Rich and poor felt love and blessing From the gracious season fall; Joy and plenty in the cottage, Peace and feasting in the hall; And the voices of the children Ringing clear above it all! Yet one house was dim and darkened; Gloom, and sickness, and despair, Dwelling in the gilded chambers, Creeping up the marble stair, Even stilled the voice of mourning, — For a child lay dying there. Silken curtains fell around him, Velvet carpets hushed the tread, Many costly toys were lying, All unheeded, by his bed'; And his tangled golden ringlets Were on downy pillows spread. The skill of that mighty City To save one little life was vain, - One little thread from being broken, One fatal word from being spoken; Nay, his very mother's pain, And the mighty love within her, Could not give him health again. So she knelt there still beside him, She alone with strength to smile, Promising that he should suffer No more in a little while, Murmuring tender song and story Weary hours to beguile. THE ANGEL'S STORY. 7 Suddenly an -unseen Presence Checked those constant moaning cries, Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering, Raised those blue and wondering eyes, Fixed on some mysterious vision, With a startled sweet surprise. For a radiant angel hovered, Smiling, o'er the little bed; White his raiment, fiom his shoulders Snowy dove-like pinions spread, And a starlike light was shining In a Glory round his head. While, with tender love, the angel, Leaning o'er the little nest, In his arms the sick child folding,: Laid him gently on his breast, Sobs and wailings told the mother That her darling was at rest. So the angel, slowly rising, Spread his wings, and through the air Bore the child, and, while he held him To his heart with loving care, Placed a branch of crimson roses Tenderly beside him there. While the child, thus clinging, floated Towards the mansions of the Blest, Gazing from his shining guardian To the flowers upon his breast, Thus the angel spake, still smiling On the little heavenly guest: 8 THE ANGEL'S STORY. "Know, dear little one, that I-Heaven Does no earthly thing disdain, Man's poor joys find there an echo Just as surely as his pain; Love, on earth so feebly striving, Lives divine in Heaven again! "Once in that great town below us, In a poor and narrow street, Dwelt a little sickly orphan; Gentle aid, or pity sweet, Never in life's rugged pathway Guided his poor tottering feet. "All the striving anxious forethought That should only come with age Weighed upon his baby spirit, Showed him soon life's sternest page; Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow Was his only heritage. ", All too weak for childish pastimes, Drearily the hours sped; On his hands so small and trembling Leaning his poor aching head, Or, through dark and painful hours, Lying sleepless on his bed.," Dreaming strange and longing fancies Of cool forests far away; And of rosy, happy children, Laughing merrily at play, Coming home through green lanes, bearing Trailing boughs of blooming May. THE ANGEL'S STOR Y. " Scarce a glimpse of azure heaven Gleamed above that narrow street, And the sultry air of summer (That you call so warm and sweet) Fevered the poor orphan, dwelling In the crowded alley's heat. "One bright day, with feeble footsteps Slowly forth he tried to crawl, Through the crowded city's pathways, Till he reached a garden-wall, Where'mid princely halls and mansions Stood the lordliest of all. " There were trees with giant branches, Velvet glades where shadows hide; There were sparkling fountains glancing, Flowers, which in luxuriant pride Even wafted breaths of perfume To the child who stood outside. " He against the gate of iron Pressed his wan and wistful face, Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure At the glories of the place; Never had his brightest day-dream Shone with half such wondrous grace. "You were playing. in that garden, Throwing blossoms in the air, Laughing when the petals floated Downwards on your golden hair; And the fond eyes watching o'er you, And the splendor spread before you, Told a House's Hope was there. to -THE ANGEL'S STORY. "When your servants, tired of seeing Such a face of want and woe, Turning to the ragged orphan, Gave him coin, and bade him go, Down his cheeks so thin and wasted Bitter tears began to flow. " But that look of childish sorrow On your tender child-heart fell, And you plucked the reddest roses From the tree you loved so well, Passed them through the stern cold grating, Gently bidding him' Farewell!' ",Dazzled by the fragrant treasure And the gentle voice he heard, In the poor forlorn boy's spirit, Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred; In his hand he took the flowers, In his heart the loving word. "So he crept to his poor.garret; Poor no more, but rich and bright, For the holy dreams of childhood - Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light - Floated round the orphan's pillow Through the starry summer night., Day dawned, yet the visions lasted; All too weak to rise he lay; Did he dream that none spake harshly, - All were strangely kind that day? Surely then his treasured roses Must have charmed all ills away. THE ANGEL'S STORY. ",And he smiled, though they were fading; One by one their leaves were shed;'Such bright things could never perish, They would bloom again,' he said. When the next day's sun had risen Child and flowers both- were dead. " Know, dear little one! our Father Will no gentle deed disdain: Love on the cold earth beginning Lives divine in Heaven again, While the angel hearts that beat there Still all tender thoughts retain." So the angel ceased, and gently O'er his little burthen leant; While the child gazed from the shining, Loving eyes that o'er him bent, To the blooming roses by him, Wondering what that mystery meant. Thus the radiant angel answered, And with tender meaning smiled: "Ere your childlike, loving spirit, Sin and the hard world defiled, God has given me leave to seek you, - I was once that little child!" In the church-yard of that city Rose a tomb of marble rare, Decked, as soon as Spring awakened, With her buds and blossoms fair, - And a humble grave beside it, - No one knew who rested there. 2ECHOES. ECHOES. TILL the angel stars are shining, Still the rippling waters flow, But the angel-voice is silent That I heard so long ago. Hark! the echoes murmur low, Long ago! Still the wood is dim and lonely, Still the plashing fountains play, But the past and all its beauty, Whither has it fled away? Hark! the mournful echoes say, Fled away! Still the bird of night complaineth, (Now, indeed, her song is pain,) Visions of my happy hours, Do I call and call in vain' Hark! the echoes cry again, All in vain! Cease, 0 echoes, mournful echoes! Once I loved your voices well; Now my heart is sick and weary. - Days of old, a long farewell! Hark! the echoes sad and dreary Cry farewell, farewell! A FALSE GENIUS. 3 A FALSE GENIUS.:~' "SEE a Spirit by thy side, Purple-winged and eagle-eyed, Looking like a heavenly guide. Though he seem so bright and fair, Ere thou trust his proffered care, Pause a little, and beware! If he bid thee dwell apart, Tending some ideal smart In a sick and coward heart; In self-worship wrapped alone, Dreaming thy poor griefs are grown More than other men have known; Dwelling in some cloudy sphere, Though God's work is waiting here, And God deigneth to be near; If his torch's crimson glare Show thee evil everywhere, Tainting all the wholesome air; While with strange distorted choice, Still disdaining to rejoice, Thou wilt hear a wailing voice; 14: iMY PICTURE. If a simple, humble heart Seem to thee a meaner part Than thy noblest aim and art; If he bid thee bow before Crowned Mind and nothing more, The great idol men adore; And with starry veil enfold Sin, the trailing serpent old, Till his scales shine out like gold; Though his words seem true and wise, Soul, I say to thee, Arise, He is a Demon in disguise! MY PICTURE. 6 _ TAND this way-more near the windowBy my desk -you see the light'LFalling on my picture better - Thus I see it while I write! Who the head may be I know not, But it has a student air; With a look half sad, half stately, Grave sweet eyes and flowing hair. MHY PICTURE. 15 Little care I who the painter, How obscure a name he bore; Nor, when some have named Velasquez, Did I value it the more. As it is, I would not give it For the rarest piece of art; It has dwelt with me, and listened To the secrets of my heart. Many a time, when to my garret, Weary, I returned at night, It has seemed to look a welcome That has made my poor room bright. Many a time, when ill and sleepless, I have watched the quivering gleam Of my lamp upon that picture, Till it faded in my dream. When dark days have come, and friendship Worthless seenled, and life in vain, That bright friendly smile has sent me Boldly to my task again. Sometimes when hard need has pressed me To bow down where I despise, I have read stern words of counsel. In those sad, reproachful eyes. Nothing that my brain imagined, Or my weary hand has wrought, But it watched the dim Idea Spring forth into armed Thought. x6 JUDGE NOT. It has smiled on my successes, Raised me when my hopes were low, And by turns has looked upon me With all the loving eyes I know. Do you wonder that my picture Has become so like a friend - It has seen my life's beginnings, It shall stay and cheer the end! JUDGE NOT. UDGE not; the workings of his brain And of his heart thou canst not see; $ What looks to thy dim eyes a stain, Ka~ tIn God's pure light may only be A scar, brought fiom some well-won field, Where thou wouldst only faint and yield. The look, the air, that frets thy sight, May be a token, that below The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe, Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, And cast thee shuddering on thy face! The fall thou darest to despise - May be the angel's slackened hand Has suffered it, that he may rise And take a firmer, surer stand; Or, trusting less to earthly things, May henceforth learn to use his wings. FRIEND SORROW 17 And judge none lost; but wait and see, With hopeful pity, not disdain; The depth of the abyss may be The measure of the height of pain And love and glory that may raise This soul to God in after days! FRIEND SORROW.,,5 O not cheat thy IHeart and tell her, _ 1 > "Grief will pass away, r'i J Hope for fairer times in future, w:B1~ And forget to-day." - Tell her, if you will, that sorrow Need not come in vain; Tell her that the lesson taught her Far outweighs the pain. Cheat her not with the old comfort, " Soon she will forget," — Bitter truth, alas! but matter Rather for regret; Bid her not " Seek other pleasures, Turn to other things":Rather nurse her caged sorrow Till the captive sings. Rather bid her go forth bravely, And the stranger greet; Not as foe, with spear and buckler, But as dear friends meet; 2 i~8 ONE BY ONE. Bid her with a strong clasp hold her, By her dusky wings, Listening for the murmured blessing Sorrow always brings. ONE BY ONE. NE by one the sands are flowing, One by one the moments, fall; Some are coming, some are going; Do not strive to grasp them all. One by one thy duties wait thee, Let thy whole strength go to each, Let no future dreams elate thee, Learn thou first what these can teach. One by one (bright gifts from Heaven) Joys are sent thee here below; Take them readily when given, Ready too to let them go. One by one thy griefs shall meet thee, Do not fear an armed band; One will fade as others greet thee; Shadows passing through the land. Do not look at life's long sorrow; See how small each moment's pain; God will help thee for to-morrow, So-each day begin again. TRUE HONORS.'9 Every hour that fleets so slowly Has its task to do or bear; Luminous the crown, and holy, When each gem is set with care. Do not linger with regretting, Or for passing hours despond; Nor, the daily toil forgetting, Look too eagerly beyond. Hours are golden links, God's token, Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done. TRUE HONORS. S my darling tired already, Tired of her day of play? Draw your little stool beside me, """ AdSmooth this tangled hair away. Can she put the logs together, Till they make a cheerful blaze? Shall her blind old Uncle tell her Something of his youthful days? Hark! The wind among the cedars Waves their white arms to and fro; I remember how I watched them Sixty Christmas Days ago: Then I dreamt a glorious vision Of great'deeds to crown eacJ year: 2s0 ThTRUE HONORS. Sixty Christmas Days have found me Useless, helpless, blind- and here! Yes, I feel my darling stealing Warm soft fingers into. mine: Shall I tell her what I fancied In that strange old dream of mine? I was kneeling by the window, Reading how a noble band, With the red cross on their breastplates, Went to gain the Holy Land. While with eager eyes of wonder Over the dark page. I bent, Slowly twilight shadows gathered Tilf the letters came and went; Slowly, till the night was round me; Then my heart beat loud and fast, For I felt before I saw it That a spirit near me passed. Then I raised my eyes, and, shining W here the moon's first ray was bright, Stood a winged Angel-warrior Clothed and panoplied in light: So, with Heaven's love upon him, Stern in calm and resolute will, Looked St. Michacl, - does the picture Hang in the old cloister still? Threefold were the dreams of honor That absorbed my heart and brain; Threefold crowns the Angel promised, Each one to be bought by pain: TRUE HONORS. 2, While he spoke, a threefold blessing Fell upon my soul like rain. HELPER OF THE POOR AND SUFFERING; VICTOR IN A GLORIOUS STRIFE; SINGER OF A NOBLE POEM: Such the honors of my life. Ah, that dream! Long years that gave me Joy and grief as real things Never touched the tender memory Sweet and solemn that it brings, - Never quite effaced the feeling Of those white and shadowing wings. Do those blue eyes open wider? Does my faith too foolish seem? Yes, my darling, years have tauglht me It was nothing but a dream. Soon, too soon, the bitter knowledge Of a fearful trial rose, Rose to crush my heart, and sternly Bade my young ambition close. More and more my eyes were clouded, Till at last God's glorious light Passed away from me forever, And I lived and live in night. Dear, I will not dim your pleasure, Christmas should be only gay: - In my night the stars have risen, And I wait the dawn of day. Spite of all I could be happy; For my brothers' tender care 1Z12 TRUE HONORS. In their boyish pastimes ever Made me take, or feel a share. Philip, even then so thoughtful, Max so noble, brave, and tall, And your father, little Godfrey, The most loving of them all. Philip reasoned down my sorrow, Max would laugh my gloom away, Godfrey's little arms put round me Helped me through my dreariest day; While the promise of my Angel, Like a star, now bright, now pale, HIung in blackest night above me, And I felt it could not fail. Years passed on, my brothers left me, Each went out to take his share In the struggle of life; my portion Was a humble one- to bear. Here I dwelt, and learnt to wander Through the woods and fields alone, Every cottage in the village Had a corner called my own. Old and young; all brought their troubles, Great or small, for me to hear; I have often blessed my sorrow That drew others' grief so near. Ah, the people needed helping Needed love - (for Love and Heaven Are the only gifts not bartered, They alone are freely given) - TRUE HONORS. z3 And I gave it. Philip's bounty (We were orphans, dear) made toil Prosper, and want never fastened On the tenants of the soil. Philip's name (0, how I gloried, He so young, to see it rise!) Soon grew noted among statesmen As a patriot true and wise. And his people all felt honored To be ruled by such a name; I- was proud too that they loved me; Through their pride in him it camne. He had gained what I had longed for, I nmeanwhile grew glad and gay,'Mid his people, to be serving Him and them, in some poor way. How his noble earnest speeches With untiring fervor came! HELPER OF THE POOR AND SUFFERING; Truly he deserved the name! Had my Angel's promise failed me? Had that word of hope grown dim I WVhy, my Philip had fillfilled it, And I loved it best in him! Max meanwhile - all, you, my darling, Can his loving words recall -'Mid the bravest and the noblest, Braver, nobler, than them all. How I loved him! how my heart thrilled When his sword clanked by his side, When I touched his gold embroidery, Almost saw him in his pride! 24 TRUE HONORS. So we parted; he all eager To uphold the name he bore, Leaving in my charge- he loved me - Some one whom he loved still more: I must tend this gentle flower, I must speak to her of him, iFor he feared - Love still is fearfihl That his memory might grow dim. I must guard her from all sorrow, I must play a brother's part, Shield all grief and trial from her, If it need be, with my heart. Years passed, and his name grew famous; We were proud, both she and I; And we lived upon his letters, While the slow days fleeted by. Then at last - you know the story, How a fearful rumor spread, Till all hope had slowly faded, And we heard that he was dead. Dead! O, those were bitter hours; Yet within my soul there dwelt A warning, and while others mourned him, Something like a hope I felt. His was no weak life as mine was, But a life, so full and strong - No, I could not th-ink he perished Nameless,'mid a conquered throng. How she drooped! Years passed; no tidings Came, and yet that little flame Of strange hope within my spirit Still burnt on, and lived the same. TRUE HONORS. 25 Ah! my child, our hearts will fail us, When to us they strongest seem: I can look back on those hours As a fearful, evil dream. She had long despaired; what wonder That her heart had turned to mine? Earthly loves are deep and tender, Not eternal and divine! Can I say how bright a future Rose before my soul that day? O, so strange, so sweet, so tender! And I had to turn away. Hard and terrible the struggle, For the pain not mine alone; I called back my Brother's spirit, And I bade him claim his own. Told her - now I dared to do it - That I felt the day would rise When he would return to gladden My weak heart and her bright eyes. And I pleaded- pleaded sternly - In his name, and for his sake: Now, I can speak calmly of it, Then, I thought my heart would break. Soon- ah, Love had not deceived me, (Love's true instincts never err,) Wounded, weak, escaped from prison, He returned to me, - to her. I could thank God that bright morning, When I felt my Brother's gaze, That my heart was true and loyal, As in our old boyish days. 2.6 TRUE HONORS. Bought by wounds and deeds of daring, Honors he had brought away; Glory crowned his name - my Brother's; Mine too!- we were one that day. Since the crown on him had fallen, " VICTOR IN A NOBLE STRIFE," I could live and die contented With my poor ignoble life. Well, my darling, almost weary Of my story? Wait awhile; For tile rest is only joyful; I can tell it with a smile. One bright promise still was left me, Wound so close about~my soul, That, as one by one had failed me, This dream now absorbed the whole. " SINGER OF A NOBLE POEMI,"Ah, my darling, few and rare Burn the glorious names of Poets, Like stars in the purple air. That too, and I glory in it, That great gift my Godfrey won; I have my dear share of honor, Gained by that beloved one. One day shall my darling read it; Now she cannot understand All the noble thoughts that lighten Through the genius of the land. I am proud to be his brother, Proud to think that hope was true; Though I longed and strove so vainly, What I failed in, he could do. TR UE HONORS. 27 I was long before I knew it, Longer ere I felt it so; Then I strung my rhymes together Only for the poor and low. And, it pleases me to know it, (For I love them well indeed,) They care for my humble verses, Fitted for their humble need. And, it cheers my heart to hear it, WVhere the far-off settlers roam, My poor words are sung and cherished, Just because they speak of Home. And the little children sing them, (That, I think, has pleased me best,) Often, too, the dying love them, For they tell of Heaven and rest. So my last vain dream has faded; (Such as I to think of fame!) Yet I will not say it failed me, For it crowned my Godfrey's name. No; my Angel did not cheat me, For my long life has been blest; He did give me Love and Sorrow, Hie will bring me Light and Rest. 28 A WOMAN'S Q UES TI ON. A WOMAN'S QUESTION. EFORE I trust my Fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy Future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul tonight for me. I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret: Is there one link within the Past That holds thy spirit yet? Or is thy Faith as clear and firee as that which I can pledge to thee. Does there within thy dimmest dreams A possible future shine, Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe, Untouched, unshared by mine? If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost. Look deeper still. If thou canst feel Within thy inmost soul, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole; Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so. Is there within thy heart a need That mine cannot fulfil I THE THREE RULERS. 29 One chord that any other hand Could better wake or still? Speak now - lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay. Lives there within thy nature hid The demon-spirit Change, Shedding a passing glory still On all things new and'strange - It may not be thy fault alone -but shield my heart against thy own. Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day And answer to my claim, That Fate, and that to-day's mistakeNot thou -had been to blame? Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt surely warn and save me now. Nay, answer not, - I dare not hear, The words would come too late; Yet I would spare thee all remorse, So, comfort thee, my Fate - Whatever on my heart may fall —remember, I would risk it all i THE THREE RULERS. t SAW a Ruler take his stand And trample on a mighty land; The People crouchel d before his beck, His iron heel was on their neck, 30 A DEAD PAST. His name shone bright through blood and pain, His sword flashed back their praise again. I saw another Ruler rise: His words were noble, good, and wise; With the calm sceptre of his pen He ruled the minds and thoughts of men: Some scoffed, some praised, - while many heard, Only a few obeyed his word. Another Ruler then I saw: Love and sweet Pity were his law; The greatest and the least had part (Yet most the unhappy) in his heart: The People, in a mighty band, Rose up, and drove him from the land! A DEAD PAST.. PARE her at least: look, you have taken from me The Present, and I murmur not, nor moan; Tile Fulure too, with all her glorious promise; But do not leave me utterly alone. Spare me the Past: for, see, she cannot harm you, She lies so Wvhite and cold, wrapped in her shroud; All, all my own! and, trust me, I will hide her Within my soul, nor speak to her aloud. A DOUBTING HEART. 31 I folded her soft hands upon her bosom, And strewed my flowers upon her, - they still live: Sometimes I lilke to kiss her closed white eyelids, And think of all the joy she used to give. Cruel indeed it were to take her from me; She sleeps, she will not wake - no fear - again: And so I laid her, such a gentle burthen, Quietly on my heart to still its pain. I do not think that any smiling Present, Any vague Future, spite of all her charms, Could ever rival her. You know you laid her, Long years ago, then living, in my arms. Leave her at least: while my tears fall upon her, I dream she smiles, just as she did of yore; As dear as ever to me- nay, it may be, Even dearer still- since I have nothing more. A DOUBTING HEART. _HERE are the swallows fled? Frozen and dead, Perchance upon some bleak and stormy [~q~'-~[ shore. O doubting heart! Far over purple seas, They wait, in sunny ease, The balmy southern breeze, To bring them to their northern homes once more. 32 A DOUBTING HEART. Why must the flowers die? Prisoned they lie In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. O doubting heart! They only sleep below The soft white ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, To breathe and smile upon you soon again. The sun has hid its rays These many days; Will dreary hours never leave the earth? o doubting heart! The stormy clouds on high Veil the same sunny sky, That soon (for spring is nigh) Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. Fair hope is dead, and light Is quenched in night. What sound can break the silence of despair O doubting heart! Thy sky is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air. A STUDENT. 33 A STTUDENT. VER an ancient scroll I bent, Steeping my soul in wise content, Nor paused a moment, save to chide A low voice whispering at my side. I wove beneath the stars' pale shine A dream, half human, half divine; And shook off (not to break the charm) A little hand laid on my arm. I read; until my heart would glow With the great deeds of long.ago; Nor heard, while with those mighty dead, Pass to and fro a faltering tread. On the old theme I pondered long, - The struggle between right and wrong; I could not check such visions high, To soothe a little quivering sigh. I tried to solve the problem - Life; Dreaming of that mysterious strife, How could I leave such reasonings wise, To answer two blue pleading eyes? I strove how best to give, and when, My blood to save my fellow-men, - How could I turn aside, to look At snowdrops laid upon my book? 3 34 A KNIGHT ERRANT. Now Time has fled - the world is strange, Something there is of pain and change; My books lie closed upon the shelf; I miss the old heart in myself. I miss the sunbeams in my room - It was not always wrapped in gloom: I miss my dreams - they fade so fast, Or flit into some trivial past. The great stream of the world goes by; None care, or heed, or question, why I, the lone student, cannot raise My voice or hand as in old days. No echo seems to wake again My heart to anything but pain, Save when a dream of.twilight brings The fluttering of an angel's wings! A KNIGHT ERRANT. HOUGH he lived and died among us, Yet his name may be enrolled With the knights whose deeds of daring Ancient chronicles have told. Still a stripling, he encountered Poverty, and struggled long, Gathering force from every effort, Till he knew his arm was strong. A KNIGHT ERRANT. 35 Then his heart and life he offered To his radiant mistress - Truth; Never thought, or dream, or faltering, Marred the promise of his youth. So he rode forth to defend her, And her peerless worth proclaim; Challenging each recreant doubter Who aspersed her spotless name. First upon his path stood Ignorance, Hideous in his brutal might; Hard the blows and long the battle Ere the monster took to flight. Then, with light and fearless spirit, Prejudice he dared to brave; Hunting back the lying craven To her black sulphureous cave. Followed by his servile minions, Custom, the old Giant, rose; Yet he, too, at last was conquered By the good Knight's weighty blows. Then he turned, and, flushed with victory, Struck upon the brazen shield Of the world's great king, Opinion, And defied him to the field. Once again he rose a conqueror, And, though wounded in the fight, With a dying smile of triumph Saw that Truth had gained her right. 3 6 LINGER, 0 GENTLE TIME. On his failing ear re-echoing Came the shouting round her throne; Little cared he that no fitture With her name would link his own. Spent with many a hard-fought battle, Slowly ebbed his life away, And the crowd that flocked to greet her Trampled on him where he lay. Gathering all his strength, he saw her Crowned and reigning in her pride; Looked his last upon her beauty, Raised his eyes to God, and died. LINGER, 0 GENTLE TIME. INGER, O gentle Time, Linger, 0 radiant grace of bright Today! Let not the hours' chime Call thee away, But linger near me still with fond delay. Linger, for thou art mine! What dearer treasures can the future hold? What sweeter flowers than thine Can she unfold? What secrets tell my heart thou hast not told? HOMEWARD BOUNVD. 37 0 linger in thy flight! For shadows gather round, and should we part, A dreary, starless night May fill my heart, - Then pause and linger yet ere thou depart. Linger,.I ask no more,Thou art enough forever - thou alone; What future can restore, When thou art flown, All that I hold from thee and call my own? HOMEWARD BOUND. ~ —H IIAVE seen a fiercer tempest, Known a louder whirlwind blow; I was wrecked off red Algiers, Six-and-thirty years ago. Young I was, and yet old seamen Were not strong or calm as I; While life held such treasures for me, I felt sure I could not die. Life I struggled for - and saved it; Life alone- and nothing more; Bruised, half dead, alone and helpless I was cast Upon the shore. I feared the pitiless rocks of Ocean; So the. great sea rose - and then Cast me from her friendly bosom, On the pitiless hearts of men. 38 HOMEWARD BO UND. Gaunt and dreary ran the mountains, With black gorges, up the land; Up to where the lonely Desert Spreads her burning, dreary sand: In the gorges of the mountains, On the plain beside the sea, Dwelt my stern and cruel masters, The black Moors of Barbary. Ten long years I toiled among them, Hopeless -as I used to say; Now I know Hope burnt within me Fiercer, stronger, day by day: Those dim years of toil and sorrow Like one long, dark dream appear; One long day of weary waiting,Then each day was like a year. How I cursed the land, my prison; How I cursed the serpent sea, And the Demon Fate that showered All her curses upon me, I was mad, I think - God pardon Words so terrible and wild - This voyage would have been my last one, For I left a wife and child. Never did one tender vision Fade away before my sight, Never once through all my slavery, Burning day or dreary night; In my soul it lived, and kept me, Now I feel, from black despair, And my heart was not quite broken, While they lived and blest me there. HOME WARD BOUND. 39 When at night my task was over, I would hasten to the shore; (All was strange and foreign inland, Nothing I had known before;) Strange looked the bleak mountain passes, Strange the red glare and black shade, And the Oleanders, waving To the sound the fountains made. Then I gazed at the great Ocean, Till she grew a friend again; And because she knew old England, I forgave her all my pain: So the blue still sky above me, With its' white clouds' fleecy fold, And the glimmering stars (though brighter), Looked like home and days of old. And a calm would fall upon me, Worn perhaps with work and pain, The wild hungry longing left me, And I was myself again: Looking at the silver waters, Looking up at the far sky, Dreams of home and all I left there Floated sorrowfully by. A fair face, but pale with sorrow, Witl blue eyes, brimful of tears, And the little red month, quivering With a smile, to hide its *fears; Holding out her baby towards me, From the sky she looked on me; So it was that last I saw her, As the ship put out to sea. 40 HOMEITARD B OUND. Sometimes (and a pang would seize me That the years were floating on) I would strive to paint her, altered, And the little baby gone: She no longer young and girlish, The child standing by her knee, And her face more pale and saddened With the weariness for me. Then I saw, as night grew darker, How she taught my child to pray, Holding its small hands together, For its father, far away; And I felt her sorrow, weighing Heavier on me than my own, Pitying her blighted spring-time, And her joy so early flown. Till upon my hands (now hardcened With the rough, harsh toil of years) Bitter drops of anguish falling, Woke Ine from my dream, to tears; VWoke me as a slave, an outcast, Leagues from home, across the deep; So- though you may call it childish - So I sobbed myself to sleep. Well, the years sped on - my Sorrow, Calmer, and yet stronger grown, Was my shield against all suffering Poorer, meaner than her own. Thus my cruel master's harshness Fell upon me all in vain, Yet the tale of what we suffered Echoed back from main to main. HOMEWARD BO UND. 41 You have heard in a far country Of a self-devoted band, Vowed to rescue Christian captives Pining in a foreign land. And these gentle-hearted strangers Year by year go forth from Rome, In their hands the hard-earned ransom, To restore some exiles home. I was freed: they broke the tidings Gently to me: but indeed Hour by hour sped on, I knew not IWhat the words meant -I was freed! Better so, perhaps; while sorrow (More akin to earthly things) Only strains the sad heart's fibres, Joy, bright stranger, breaks the strings. Yet at last it rushed upon me, And my heart beat full and fast; What were now my years of waiting, What was all the dreary past? Nothing- to the impatient throbbing I must bear across the sea: Nothing - to the eternal hours Still between my home and me! How the voyage passed I know not; Strange it was once more to stand With my countrymen around me, Arid to clasp an English hand. But, through all, my heart was dreaming Of the first words I should hear, In the gentle voice that echoed, Fresh as ever, on my ear. 42 HOiMEIWARD BOUND. Should I see her start of wonder, And the sudden truth arise, Flushing all her face and lightening The dimmed splendor of her eyes? Oh! to watch the fear and doubting Stir the silent depths of pails, And the rush of joy - then melting Into perfect peace again. And the child! -but why remember Foolish fancies that I thought? Every tree and every hedge-row From the well-known past I brought; I would picture my dear cottage, See the crackling wood-fire burn, And the two beside it seated, Watching, waiting, my return. So at last we reached the harbor. I remember nothing more Till I stood, my sick heart throbbing, With my hand upon the door. There I paused- I heard her speaking; Low, soft, murmuring, words she said; Then I first knew the dumb terror I had -had lest she were dead. It was evening in late autumn, And the gusty wind blew chill; Autumn leaves were falling round me, And the red sun lit the hill. Six-and-twenty years are vanished Since then, - I am old and gray, - But I never told to mortal What I saw, until this day. HOME WARD BOUND. 4 She was seated by the fire, In her arms she held a child, Whispering baby-words caressing, And then, looking up, she smiled; Smiled on him who stood beside her - Oh! the bitter truth was told, In her look of trusting fondness - I had seen the look of old! But she rose and turned towards me (Cold and dumb I waited there) With a shriek of fear and terror, And a white face of despair. He had been an ancient comradeNot a single word we said, While we gazed upon each other, He the living: I the dead! I drew nearer, nearer to her, And I took her trembling hand, Looking on her white face, looking That her heart might understand All the love and all the pity That my lips refused to say. I thank God no thought save sorrow Rose in our crushed hearts that day. Bitter tears that desolate moment, Bitter, bitter tears we wept, WVe three broken hearts together, While the- aby smiled and slept. Tears alone - no words were spoken, Till he - till her husband said That my boy, (I had forgotten The poor child,) that he was dead. 44 LIFE AND DEA TIt. Then at last I rose, and, turning, Wrung his hand, but made no sign; And I stooped and kissed her forehead Once more, as if she were mine. Nothing of farewell I uttered, Save in broken words to pray That God would ever guard and bless her, - Then in silence passed away. Over the great restless ocean Six-and-twenty years I roam; All my comrades, old and weary, Have gone back to die at home. Home! yes, I shall reach a haven, I, too, shall reach home and rest; I shall find her waiting for me With our baby on her breast. LIFE AND DEATH., HAT is Life, father?",, A battle; my child, Where the strongest lance may fail, Where the wariest eyes may be beguiled And the stoutest heart may quiail. Where the foes are gathered on every hand, And rest not day Qr night, And the feeble little ones must stand In the thickest of the fight." NO W. 45,,What is Death, father " " The rest, my child, When the strife and the toil are o'er; The angel of God, who, calm and mild, Says we need fight no more; Who, driving away the demon band, Bids the din of the battle cease; Takes banner and spear from our failing hand, And proclaims an eternal peace." " Let me die, father! I tremble, and fear To yield in that terrible strife! " The crown must be won for heaven, dear, In the battle-field of life: My child, though thy foes are strong and tried, He loveth the weak and small; The angels of heaven are on thy side, And God is over all!" NOW. ISE! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on; The others have buckled their armor, And forth to the fight are gone: A place in the ranks awaits you, Each man has some part to play; The Past and the Future are nothing, In the face of the stern To-day. 46 NO W. Rise from your dreams of the Future, - Of gaining some hard-fought field; Of stormingi some airy fortress, Or bidding some giant yield; Your Future has deeds of glory, Of honor (God grant it may!) But your arm will never be stronger, Or the need so great as To-day. Rise! if the Past detains you, Her sunshine and storms forget; No chains so unworthy to hold you As those of a vain regret; Sad or bright, she is lifeless ever; Cast her phantom arms away, Nor look back, save to learn the lesson Of a nobler strife To-day. Rise! for the day is passing; The sound that you scarcely hear Is the enemy marching to battle: Arise! for the foe is here! Stay not to sharpen your weapons, Or the hour will strike at last, When, from dreams of a coming battle, You may wake to find it past! CLEANSING FIRES. 47 CLEANSING FIRES. Ai. T thy gold he cast in the furnace, Thy red gold, precious and bright; Do not fear the hungry fire, With its caverns of burning light; And thy gold shall return more precious, Free from every spot and stain;. For gold must be tried by fire, As a heart must be tried by pain! In the cruel fire of Sorrow Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail; Let thy hand be firm and steady, Do not let thy spirit quail: But wait till the trial is over, And take thy heart again; For as gold is tried by fire, So a heart must be tried by pain! I shall know by the gleam and glitter Of the golden chain you wear, By your heart's calm strength in loving, Of the fire they have had to bear. Beat on, true heart, forever; Shine bright, strong golden chain; And bless the cleansing fire, And the furnace of living pain! 48 THE VOICE OF TIHE WIND. THE VOICE OF THE WIND. ET us throw more logs on the fire! cWe have need of a cheerful light, And close round the hearth to gather; ~ ~____J 01For the wind has risen to-night. With the mournful sound of its wailing It has' checked the children's glee, And it calls with a louder clamor Than the clamor of the sea. Ihark to the voice of the wind! Let us listen to what it is saying, Let us hearken to where it has been; For it tells, in its terrible crying, The fearful sights it has seen. It clatters loud at the casements, Round the house it hurries on, And shrieks with redoubled fury When we say, T-he blast is gone!" Hark to the voice of the wind I It has been on the field of battle, Where the dying and wounded lie; And it brings the last groan they uttered, And the ravenous vulture's cry. It has been where the icebergs were meeting, And closed with a fearful crash: On shores where no foot has wandered It has heard the waters dash. -Iark to the voice of the wind! THE VOICE OF THE WIND. 49 It has been on the desolate ocean When the lightning struck the mast; It has heard the cry of the drowning Who sank as it hurried past; The words-of despair and anguish That were heard by no living ear, The gun that no signal answered, It brings them all to us here. Hark to the voice of the wind! It has been on the lonely moorland, Where the treacherous snow-drift lies, Where the traveller, spent and weary, Gasped fainter and fainter cries; It has heard the bay of the bloodhounds On the track of the hunted slave, The lash and the curse of the master, And the groan that the captive gave. Hark to the voice of the wind! It has swept through the gloomy forest, Where the sledge was urged to its speed, Where the howling wolves were rushing On the track of the panting steed. Where the pool was black and lonely, It caught up a splash and a cry,Only the bleak sky heard it, And the wind as it hurried by. Hark to the voice of the wind! Then-throw more logs on the fire, Since the air is bleak and cold, And the children are drawing nigher, For the tales that the wind has told. 4 50 TREA S UR ES. So closer and closer gather Round the red and crackling light; And rejoice (while the wind is blowing) We are safe and warm to-night. Hark to the voice of the wind! TREASURES. ET me count my treasures, All my soul holds dear, Given me by dark spirits Whom I used to fear. Through long days of anguish, And sad nights, did Pain Forge my shield, Endurance, Bright and fiee from stain! Doubt, in misty caverns,'Mid dark horrors sought, Till my peerless jewel, Faith, to me she brought. Sorrow, that I wearied Should remain so long, Wreathed my starry glory, The bright Crown of Song. Strife, that racked my spirit Without hope or rest, Left the blooming flower, Patience, on my breast. SIINING STARS. 51 Suffering, that I dreaded, Ignorant of her charms, Laid the fair child, Pity, Smiling, in my arms. So I count my treasures, Stored in days long past, - And I thank the givers, Whom I know at last! SHINING STARS. HINE, ye stars of heaven, On a world of pain! See old Time destroying All our hoarded gain; All our sweetest flowers, Every stately shrine, All our hard-earned glory, Every dream divine! Shine, ye stars of heaven, On the rolling years! See how Time, consoling, Dries the saddest tears, Bids the darkest storm-clouds Pass in gentle rain, While upspring in glory Flowers and dreams again! 52 WAITING. Shine, ye stars of heaven, On a world of fear! See how Time, avenging, Bringeth judgment here: Weaving ill-won honors To a fiery crown; Bidding hard hearts perish; Casting proud hearts down. Shine, ye stars of heaven, On the hours' slow flight! See how Time, rewarding, Gilds good deeds with light; Pays with kingly measure; Brings earth's dearest prize; Or, crowned with rays diviner, Bids the end arise! WAITING. sHEREFORE dwell so sad and lonely By the desolate sea-shore, With the melancholy surges I Beating at your cottage door? ", You shall dwell beside the castle Shadowed by our ancient trees; And your life shall pass on gently, Cared for, and in rest and ease." WAITING. 53 " Lady, one who loved me dearly Sailed for distant lands away; And I wait here his returning Hopefully from day to day. "To my door I bring my spinning, Watching every ship I see; Waiting, hoping, till the sunset Fades into the western sea. " After sunset, at my casement, Still I place a signal light; He will see its well-known shining Should his ship return at night. "Lady, see your infant smiling, With its flaxen curling hair,I remember when your mother Was a baby just as fair. "I was watching then, and hoping: Years have brought great change to all; To my neighbors in their cottage, To you nobles at the hall. " Not to me, - for I am waiting, And the years have fled so fast, I must look at you to tell me That a weary time has past! " When I hear a footstep coming On the shingle- years have fled - Yet amid a thousand others, I shall know his quick, light tread. 54 THE CRADLE-SONG OF TIE POOR. When I hear (to-night it may be) Some one pausing at my door, I shall know the gay, soft accents, hIeard and welcomed oft before! "So each day I am more hopeful, He may come before the night; Every sunset I feel surer He must come erc morning light. Then I thank you, noble lady, But I cannot do your will: WVhere he left me he must find me, Waiting, watching, hoping, still! " THE CRADLE-SONG OF THE POOR. USH! I cannot bear to see thee Stretch thy tiny hands in vain; Dear, I have no bread to give thee, Nothing, child, to ease thy pain! When God sent thee first to bless me, Proud, and thankful too, was I; Now, my darling, I, thy mother, Almost long to see thee die. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. I have watched thy beauty fading, And thy strength sink day by day, Soon, I know, will Want and Fever Take thy little life away. THE CRADLE-SONG OF THE POOR. 55 Famine makes thy father reckless, Hope has left both him and me; We could suffer all, my baby, Had we but a crust for thee. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. Better thou shouldst perish early, Starve so soon, my darling one, Than. in helpless sill and sorrow Vainly live as I have done. Better that thy angel spirit With my joy, my peace, were flown, Than thy heart grew cold and careless, Reckless, hopeless, like my own. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. I am wasted, dear, with hunger, And my brain is all opprest, I lhave scarcely strength to press thee, Wan and feeble, to my breast. Patience, baby, God will help us, Death will come to thee and mIe, He will take us to his heaven, Where no want or pain can be. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. Such the plaint that, late and early, Did we listen, we might hear Close beside us, - but the thunder Of a city dulls our ear. 6 EBE STRONG. Every heart, as God's bright angel, Can bid one such sorrow cease; God has glory when his children Bring his poor ones joy and peace! Listen, nearer while. she sings Sounds the fluttering of wings! BE STRONG. m2, E strong to hope, 0 Heart! Though day is bright, The stars can only shine,-Z ^ In the dark night. Be strong, 0 Heart of mine, Look towards the light! Be strong to. bear, 0 Heart! Nothing is vain: Strive not, for life is care, And God sends pain; Heaven is above, and there Rest will remain! Be strong to love, 0 Heart! Love knows not wrong; Didst thou love - creatures even, Life were not long; Didst thou love God in heaven, Thou wouldst be strong! GOD'S GIFTS. 57 GOD'S GIFTS.` OD gave a gift to Earth: —a child, Weak, innocent, and undefiled, Opened its ignorant eyes and smiled. It lay so helpless, so forlorn, Earth took it coldly and in scorn, Cursing the day when it was born. She gave it first a tarnished name, For heritage, a tainted fame, Then cradled it in want and shame. All influence of Good or Right, All ray of God's most holy light, She curtained closely from its sight, Then turned her heart,'her eyes away, Ready to look again the day Its little feet began to stray. In dens of guilt the baby played, Where sin, and sin alone, was made The law that all around obeyed. With ready and obedient care, He learnt the tasks they taughllt him there; Black sin for lesson, - oaths for prayer. Then Earth arose, and, in her might, To vindicate her injured right, Thrust him in deeper depths of night. 58 GOD'S GIFTS. Branding him with a deeper brand Of shame, he could not understand, The felon outcast of the land. God gave a gift to Earth: a child, WVeak, innocent, and undefiled, Opened its ignorant eyes and smiled. And Earth received the gift, and cried Her joy and triumph far and wide, Till echo answered to her pride. She blest the hour when first he came To take the crown of pride and fame, Wreathed through long ages for his name. Then bent her utmost art and skill To train the supple mind and wvill, And guardc it from a breath of ill. She strewed his morning path with flowers, And Love, in tender dropping showers,:Nourished the blue and dawning hours. She shed, in rainbow hues of light, A halo round the Good and aRight, To tempt and charmn the baby's sight. And every step, of work or play, WVas lit by some such dazzling ray, Till morning brightened into day. A TOMB IN GHENT. 59 And then the World arose, and said, Let added honors now be shed On such a noble heart and head! O World, both gifts were pure and bright, Holy and sacred in God's sight: — God will judge them and thee aright! A TOMB IN GHENT. j' SMILING look she had, a figure slight, and light; A strange and foreign look the maiden bore, That suited the quaint Belgian dress she wore; Yet the blue, fearless eyes in her fair face, And her soft voice, told her of English race; And ever, as she flitted to and fio, She sang, (or mlurmured, rather,) soft and low, Snatches of song, as if she did not know That she was singing, but the happy load Of dreamn and thought thus from her heart o'erflowed: And while on household cares she passed along, The air would bear me fragments of her song; Not such as village maidens sing, and few The fiamers of her changing music knew; Chants such as heaven and earth first heard of when The master Palestrina held the pen. But I with awe had often turned the page, Yellow with time, and half defaced by age, 6o A TOMB IN GHENT. And listened, with an ear not quite unskilled, While heart and soul to the grand echo thrilled; And much I marvelled, as her cadence fell From the Laudate, that I knew so well, Into Scarlatti's minor fugue, how she Had learned such deep and solemn harmony. But what she told I set in rhyme, as meet To chronicle the influnence, dim and sweet,'Neath which her young and innocent life had grown: Would that my words were simple as her own. Many years since, an English workman went Over the seas, to seek a home in Ghent, Where English skill was prized; nor toiled in vain; Small, yet enough, his hard-earned daily gain. -Ie dwelt alone, - in sorrow, or in pride, lie mixed not with the workers by his side; He seemed to care hut for one present joy, - To tend, to watch, to teach his sickly boy. Severe to all beside, yet for the child He softened his rough speech to sootlhings mild; For him he smiled, with him each day he walked Through the dark, gloomy streets; to him he talked Of home, of England, and strange stories told Of English heroes in the days of old; And, (when the sunset gilded roof and spire,) The marvellous tale which never seemed to tire: How the gilt dragon, glaring fiercely down From the great belfry, watching all the town, Was brought, a trophy of the wams divine, By a Crusader from far Palestine, And given to Bruges; and how Ghent arose, And how they struggled long as deadly foes, Till Ghent,, one night, by a brave soldier's skill, A TOMIB IN GHENT. 6x Stole the great dragon; and she keeps it still. One day the dragon - so't is said - will rise, Spread his bright wings, and glitter in the skies, And over desert lands cand azure seas Will seek his home'mid palm and cedar trees. So, as he passed the belfry every day, The boy would look if it were flown away; Each day surprised to find it watching there, Above him, as he crossed the ancient square, To seek the great cathedral, that had grown A home for him - mysterious and his own. Dim with dark shadows of the ages past, St. Bayon stands, solemn and rich and vast; The slender pillars, in long vistas spread, Like forest arches meet and close o'erhead; So high that, like a weak and doubting prayer, Ere it can float to the carved angels there, The silver clouded incense faints in air: Only the organ's voice, with peal on peal, Can mount to where those far-off angels kneel. Here the pale boy, beneath a low side-arch, Would listen to its solemn chant or march; Folding his little hands, his simple prayer Melted in childish dreams, and both in air WVhile the great organ over all would roll, Speaking strange secrets to his innocent soul, Bearing on eagle-wings the great desire Of all the kneeling throng, and piercing higher Than aught but love and prayer can reach, until Only the silence seemed to listen still; Or gathering like a sea still more and more, Break in melodious waves at heaven's door, And then fall, slow and soft, in tender rain, Upon the pleading, longing hearts again. 6z A TOMIB IN CGHENT. Then he would watch the rosy sunlight glow, That crept along the marble floor below, Passing, as lif'e does, with the passing hours, Now b)y a shrine all rich with gems and flowers, Now on the brazen letters of a tomb, Then, leaving it again to shade and gloom, And creeping on, to show, distinct and quaint, The kneeling figure of some marble saint: Or lighting up the carvings strange and rare, That told of patient toil, and reverent care; Ivy that trembled on the spray, and ears Of heavy corn, and slender bulrush spears, And all the thousand tangled weeds that grow In summer, where the silver rivers flow; And demon-heads grotesque, that seemed to glare In impotent wrath on all the beauty there: Then the gold rays up pillared shaft would climb, And so be drawn to heaven, at evening time. And deeper silence, darker shadows flowed On all around, only the windows glowed With blazoned glory, like the shields of light Archangels bear, who, armed with love and might, Watcli upon heaven's battlements at night. Then all was shade; the silver lamps that gleamed, Lost in the daylighllt, in the darkness seemed Like sparks of fire in the dim aisles to shine, Or trembling stars before each separate shrine. Grown half afraid, the child would leave them there, And come out, blinded by the noisy glare That burst upon him from the busy square. The church was thus his home for rest or play; And as he came and went again each day, The pictured faces that he knew so well Seemed to smile on him welcome and farewell. A TOMB IN GHIENT. 63 But holier, and dearer far than all, One sacred spot his own he loved to call; Save at midday, half-hidden by the gloom; The people call it The White Maiden's Tomb: ~For there she stands; her folded hands are pressed Together, and laid softly on her breast, As if she waited but a word to rise From the dull earth, and pass to the blue skies; Her lips expectant part, she holds her breath, As listening for the angel voice of death. None know how many years have seen her so, Or what the name of her who sleeps below. And here the child would come, and strive to trace, Through the dim twilight, the pure, gentle face He loved so well, and here he oft would bring Some violet-blossom of the early spring, And, climbing softly by the fretted stand, Not to disturb her, lay it in her hand; Or, whispering a soft, loving message sweet, Would stoop and kiss the little marble feet. So, when the organ's pealing music rang, He thought amid the gloom the Maiden sang; With reverent, simple faith by her he knelt, And fancied what she thought, and what she felt; "Glory to God," re-echoed from her voice, And then his little spirit would rejoice; Or when the Requiem sobbed upon the air, His baby tears dropped with her mournful prayer. So years fled on, while childish fancies past, The childish love and simple faith could last. The artist-soul awoke in him, the flame Of genius, like the light of Heaven, came Upon his brain, and (as it will, if true) 64 A T 01MB IN GlIENT. It touched his heart and lit his spirit, too. His father saw, and with a proud content Let him forsake the toil where he had spent His youth's first years, and on one happy day Of pride, before the old man passed away, He stood with.quivering lips, and the big tears Upon his cheek, and heard the dream of years Living and speaking to his very heart, - The low, hushed murmur at the wondrous art Of him who with young, trembling fingers made The great church-organ answer as he played; And, as the uncertain sound grew full and strong, Rush with harmonious spirit-wings along, And thrill with master-power the breathless throng. The old man died, and years passed on, and still The young musician bent his heart and will To his dear toil. St. Bavon now had grown More dear to him, and even more his own; And as he left it every night he prayed A moment by the archway in the shade, Kneeling once more within the sacred gloom Where'the White Maiden watched upon her tomb. His hopes of travel and a world-wide fame, Cold Time had sobered, and his fragile frame; Content at last only in dreams to roam, Away from the tranquillity of home; Content that the poor dwellers by his side Saw in him but the gentle friend and guide, The patient counsellor in the poor strife And petty details of their common life, Who comforted where woe and grief might fall, Nor slighted any pain or want as small, But whose great heart took in and felt for all. A TOMB IN GIIENT. 65 Still he grew famous;- many came to be His pupils in the art of harmony. One day a voice floated so pure and fiee Above his music, that he turned to see What angel sang, and saw before his eyes, What made his heart leap with a strange surprise, His own White Maiden, calm, and pure, and mild, As in his childish dreams she sang and smiled; Her eyes raised up' to Heaven, her lips apart, And music overflowing from her heart. But the faint blush that tinged her cheek betrayed No marble statue, but a living maid; Perplexed and startled at his wondering look, Her rustling score'of Mozart's Sanctus shook; The uncertain notes, like birds within a snare, IFluttered and died upon the trembling air. Days passed; each morning saw the maiden stand, Her eyes cast down, her lesson in her hand, Eager to study, never weary, while Repaid by the approving word or smile Of her kind master; days and months fled on; One day the pupil from the choir was gone; Gone to take light, and joy, and youth once more Within the poor musician's humble door; And to repay, with gentle, happy art, The debt so many owed his generous heart. And now, indeed, was one who knew and felt That a great gift of God within him dwelt; One who could listen, who could understand, Whose idle work dropped from her slackened hand, While with wet eyes entranced she stood, nor knew How the melodious winged hours flew; 5 66 A TOMB IN GHENT. Who loved his art as none had loved before, Yet prized the noble, tender spirit more. While the great organ brought fi'om far and near Lovers of harmony to praise and hear, Unmarked by aught save what filled every day, Duty, and toil, and rest, years passed away: And now by the low archway in the shade Beside her mother knelt a little maid, Who through the great cathedral learned to roam, Climb to the choir, and bring her father home; And stand, demure and solenmn by his side, Patient till the last echo softly died; Then place her little hand in his, and go Down the dark winding stair to where below The mother knelt, within the gathering gloom Waiting and praying by the Maiden's Tomb. So their life went, until, one winter's day, Father and child came there alone to pray,The mother,- gentle soul, had fled away! Their life was altered now, and yet the child Forgot her passionate grief in time, and smiled, Half wondering why, when spring's fresh breezes came, To see her father was no more the same. Half guessing at the shadow of his pain, And then contented if he smiled again, A sad, cold smile, that passed in tears away, As reassured she ran once more to play. And now each year that-added grace to grace, Fresh bloom and sunshine to the young girl's face, Brought a strange light in the musician's eyes, As if he saw some starry hope arise, Breaking upon the midnight of sad skies. A TOMIB IN GHENT, 67 It might be so more feeble year by year, The wanderer to his resting-place drew near. One day the Gloria hlie could play no more Echoed its grand rejoicing as of yore; His hands were clasped, his weary head was laid, Upon the tomb where the White Maiden prayed; Where the child's love first dawned, his soul first. spoke, The old man's heart there throbbed its last and broke. The grave cathedral that had nursed his youth, Had helped his dreaming, and had taught him truth, HIad seen his boyish grief and baby tears, And watched the sorrows and the joys of years, Had lit his fame and hope with sacred rays, And consecrated sad and happy days, Had blessed his happiness, and soothed his pain, Now took her faithful servant home again. He rests in peace: some travellers mention yet An organist whose name they all forget. He has a holier and a nobler fame By poor men's hearths, who love and bless the name Of a kind friend; and in low tones to-day Speak tenderly of him who passed away. Too poor to help the daughter of their friend, They grieved to see the little pittance end; To see her toil and strive with cheerful heart, To bear the lonely orphan's struggling part; They grieved to see her go at last alone To English kinsmen she had never known: And here she came; the foreign girl soon found Welcome, and love, and plenty all around, And here she pays it back with earnest will, By well-taught housewife watchfulness and skill; 68 THE ANGEL OF DEA TI. Deep in her heart she holds her father's name, And tenderly and proudly keeps his fame; And while she works with thrifty Belgian care, Past dreams of childhood float upon the air; Some strange old chant, or solemn Latin hymn, That echoed through the old cathedral dim, When as a little child each day she went To kneel and pray by an old tomb in Ghent. THE ANGEL OF DEATH. Cal;, HY shouldst thou fear the beautiful I\Z~2; ~angel, Death, Who waits thee at the portals of the skies, Ready to kiss away thy struggling breath, Ready with gentle hand to close thine eyes? How many a tranquil soul has passed away, Fled gladly from fierce pain and pleasures dim, To the eternal splendor of the day; And many a troubled heart still calls for him. Spirits too tender for the battle here Have turned from life, its hopes, its fears, its charms; And children, shuddering at a world so drear, Have smiling passed away into his arms. He whom thou fearest will, to ease its pain, Lay his cold hand upon thy aching heart: A DREAM. 69 Will soothe the terrors of thy troubled brain, And bid the shadow of earth's grief depart. He will give back what neither time, nor might, Nor passionate prayer, nor longing hope restore, (Dear as to long-blind eyes recovered sight,) He will give back those who are gone before. 0, what were life, if life were all? Thine eyes Are blinded by their tears, or thou wouldst see Thy treasures wait thee in the far-off skies, And Death, thy friend, will give them all to thee. A DREAM. LL yesterday I was spinning, T Sl itting alone in the sun; And the dream that IL spun was so lengthy, It lasted till day was done. I heeded not cloud or shadow That flitted over the hill, Or the humming-bees, or the swallows, Or the trickling of the rill. I took the threads for my spinning, All of blue summer air, And a flickering ray of sunlight Was woven in here and there. 70 THE PRESENT. The shadows grew longer and longer, The evening wind passed by, And the purple splendor of sunset Was flooding the western sky. But I could not leave my spinning, For so fair my dream had grown, I heeded not, hour by hour, How the silent day had flown. At last the gray shadows fell round me, And the night came dark and chill, And I rose and ran down the valley, And left it all on the hill. I went up the hill this morning To the place where my spinning lay, - There was nothing but glistening dewdrops Remained of my dream to-day. THEI PRESENT. ii ~! 1 XHush your. voice to tender reverence Crowned he lies, but cold and dead: For the Present reigns our monarch, With an added weight of hours; IIonor her, for she is mighty! Honor her, for she is ours! CHANGES. 71 See the shadows of his heroes Girt around her cloudy throne; Every day the ranks are strengthened By great hearts to him unknown; Noble things the great Past promised, Holy dreams, both strange and new; But the Present shall fulfil them, What he promised she shall do. She inherits all his treasures, She is heir to all his fame, And the light that lightens round her Is the lustre of his name; She is wise with all Ihis wisdom, Living on his grave she stands, On her brow she bears his laurels, And his harvest in her hands. Coward, can she reign and conquer If we thus her glory dim? Let us fight for her as nobly As our fathers fought for him. God, who crowns the dying ages, Bids her rule, and us obey, - Bids us cast our lives before her, Bids us serve the great To-day. CHANGES. OURN, 0 rejoicing heart! The hours are flying; Each one some treasure takes, Each one some blossom breaks, 72 STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY. And leaves it dying; The chill dark night draws near, Thy sun will soon depart, And leave thee sighing; Then mourn, rejoicing heart, The hours are flying! Rejoice, 0 grieving heart! The hours fly fast; With each some sorrow dies, With each some shadow flies, Until at last The red dawn in the east Bids weary night depart, And pain is past. Rejoice then, grieving heart, The hours fly fast! STRIVE, WAIT, AND PRAY. TRIVE; yet I do not promise The prize you dream of to-day {'[~ l Will not fade when you think to grasp it, _~ rAnd melt in your hand away; But another and holier treasure, You would now perchance disdain, Will come when your toil is over, And pay you for all your pain. Wait; yet I do not tell you The hour you long for now A LAMENT FOR THE SlUMMElIR. 73 Will not come with its radiance vanished, And a shadow upon its brow; Yet far through the misty future, With a crown of starry light, An hour of joy you know not Is winging her silent flight. Pray; though the gift you ask for May never comfort your fears, May never repay your pleading, Yet pray, and with hopeful tears; An answer, not that you long for, But diviner, will come one day; Your eyes are too dim to see it, Yet strive, and wait, and pray. A LAMENT FOR THE SUMMER. ~ OAN, 0 ye Autumn Winds! Summer has fled, i':V[ t The flowers have closed their tender leaves and die; The lily's gracious head All low must lie, Because the gentle Summer now is dead. Grieve, 0 ye Autumn Winds! Summer lies low; The rose's trembling leaves will soon be shed, For she that loved her so, Alas! is dead, And one by one her loving children go. 74~ TETHE UNKNOWN GRAVE. Wail, 0 ye Autumn Winds! She lives no more, The gentle Summer, with her balmy breath, Still sweeter than before When nearer death, And brighter every day the smile she wore! Mourn, mourn, 0 Autumn Winds, Lament and mourn; How many half-blown butds must close and die; Hopes with tile Summer born All faded lie, And leave us desolate and Earth forlorn! THE UNKINOWN GRAVE.. 0 name to bid us know ~. Who rests below, ~"~,1t No word of death or birth, Only the grass's wave, Over a mound of earth, Over a nameless grave. Did this poor wandering heart In pain depart? Longing, but all too late, For the calm home again, W~here patient watchers wait, And still will wait in vain. Did mourners come in scorn, And thus forlorn GIVE ME THY HEART. 75 Leave him, with grief and shame, To silence and decay, And hide the tarnished name Of the unconscious clay? It may be from his side His loved ones died, And, last of some bright band, (Together now once more,) He sought his home, the land Where they had gone before. No matter, —limes have made As cool a shade, And lingering breezes pass As tenderly and slow, As if beneath the grass A monarch slept below. No grief, though loud and deep, Could stir that sleep; And earth and heaven tell Of rest that shall not cease, Where the cold world's farewell Fades into endless peace. GIVE ME TI-HY HEART. ITH echoing steps the worshippers " Departed one by one; The organ's pealing voice was stilled, Byfj The vesper hymn was done; 76 GIVE -I.E THFY HLEAM'I. The shadows fell from roof and arch, Dim was the incensed air, One lamp alone, with trembling ray, Told of the Presence there! In the dark church she knelt alone; Her tears were falling fast; " Help, Lord," she cried, "the shades of death'Upon my soul are cast! Have I not shunned the path of sin, And chosen the better part " What voice came through the sacred air? - "IMy child, give me thy Heart!" "Have I not laid before Thy shrine My wealth, 0 Lord " she cried; "Have I kept aught of gems or gold, To minister to pride? Have I not bade youth's joys retire, And vain delights depart? "But sad and tender was the voice, - " M1y child, give me thy Heart!" "Have I not, Lord, gone day by day Where Thy poor children dwell; And carried help, and gold, and food? 0 Lord, Thou knowest it well! From many a house, from many a soul, My hand bids care depart":More sad, more tender was tile voice, - "MIy child, give me thy Heart t!" "Have I not worn my strength away With fast and penance sore? GIVE MIE THY HEART. 77 Have I not watched and wept 1?" she cried; " Did Thy dear Saints do more? Have I not gained Thy grace, 0 Lord, And won in Heaven my part? "It echoed louder in her soul, - "My child, give me thy Heart! "For I have loved thee with a love No mortal heart can show; A love so deep, my Saints in heaven Its depths can never know: When pierced and wounded on the Cross, Man's sin and doom were mine, I loved thee with undying love, Immortal and divine! "I loved thee ere the skies were- spread; My soul bears all thy pains; To gain thy love my sacred Heart In earthly shrines remains: Vain are thy offerings, vain thy sighs,:Without one giA divine; Give it, my child, thy Heart to me, And it shall rest in mine!" In awe she listened, and the shade Passed from her soul away; In low and trembling voice she cried,"Lord, help me to obey! Break Thou the chains of earth, 0 Lord, That bind and hold my heart; Let it be Thine, and Thine alone, Let none with Thee have part. 78 TIHE WA YSIDE INN. "Send down, 0 Lord, Thy sacrod fire! Consullne and cleanse the sin That lingers still within its depths. Let heavenly love begin. That sacred flame Thy Saints have known; Kindle, 0 Lord, in me, Thou above all the rest forever, And all the rest in Thee." The blessing fell upon her soul; Her angel by her side Knew that the hour of peace was come; Her soul was purifiedl: The shadows fell from roof and arch, Dim was the incensed air, - But Peace went with her as she left The sacred Presence there! THE WAYSIDE INN. LITTLE past the village The Inn stood, low and white; Green shady trees behind it, And an orchard on the right; Where over the green paling The red-cheelked apples hung, As if to watch how wearily The sign-board creaked and swung. THE WAYSIDE INN. 79 The heavy-laden branches, Over the road hIanu low, Reflected fruit or blossom From the wayside well below; Where children, drawing water, Looked up and pausecl to see, Amid the apple-branches, A pu'ple Judas-Tree. The road stretched winding onward For many a weary mile, - So dusty, foot-sore wanderers WVoulcl pause and rest awhile; And panting horses halted, And travellers loved to tell The quiet of the wayside inn, The orchard, and the well. Here Maurice dwelt; and often The sunburnt boy would stand Gazing upon the distance, And shading with his hand His eyes, while watching vainly For travellers, who might need His aid to loose the bridle, And tend the weary steed. And once (the boy remembered That morning many a day, - The dew lay on the hawthorn, The bird sang on the spray) A train of horsemen, nobler Than he had seen before, Up from the distance galloped, And halted at the door. 80 THE WAYSIDE INN. Upon a milk-white pony, Fit for a faery queen, Was the loveliest little damsel His eyes had ever seen: A serving-man was holding The leading rein, to guide The pony and its mistress, Who cantered by his side. Her sunny ringlets round her A golden cloud had made, While her large hat was keeping Her calm blue eyes in shade; One hand held fast the silken reins To keep her steed in check, The other pulled his tangled mane, Or stroked his glossy neck. And as the boy brought water, And loosed the rein, he heard The sweetest voice that thanked him In one low gentle word; She turned her blue eyes from him, Looked up, and smiled to see The hanging purple blossoms Upon the Judas-Tree; And showed it with a gesture, Half pleading, half command, Till he broke the fairest blossom, And laid it in her hand; And she tied it to her saddle With a ribbon from her hair, While her happy laugh rang gayly, Like silver on the air. THE WAYSIDE lNN. 8 I But the champing steeds were rested,The horsemen now spurred on, And down the dusty highway They vanished and were gone. Years passed, and many a traveller Paused at the old inn-door, But the little milk-white pony And the child returned no more. Years passed, the apple-branches A deeper shadow shed; And many a time the Judas-Tree, Blossom and leaf, lay dead; When on the loitering western breeze Came the bells' merry sound, And flowery arches rose, and flags And banners waved around. Maurice stood there expectant: The bridal train would stay Some moments at the inn-door, The eager watchers say; They come, - the cloud of dust draws near,-'Mid all the state and pride, He only sees the golden hair And blue eyes of the bride. The same, yet, ah, still fairer; He knew the face once more That bent above the pony's neck Years past at that inn-door: Her shy and smiling eyes looked round, Unconscious of the place, Unconscious of the eager gaze He fixed upon her face. 6 THE WA YSIDE INN. He plucked a blossom from the tree - The Judas-Tree - and cast Its purple fragrance towards the Bride, A message from the Past. The signal came, the horses plunged, — Once more she smiled around: The purple blossom in the dust Lay trampled on the ground. Again the slow years fleeted, Their passage only known By the height the Passion-flower Around the porch had grown; And many a passing traveller Paused at the old inn-door, But the bride, so fair and blooming, The bride returned no more. One winter morning, Maurice, Watching the branches bare, Rustling and waving dimly In the gray and misty air, Saw blazoned on a carriage Once more the well-known shield, The stars and azure fleurs-de-lis Upon a silver field. He looked - was that pale woman, So grave, so worn, so sad, The child, once young and smiling, The bride, once fair and glad? What grief had dimmed that glory, And brought that dark eclipse Upon her blue eyes' radiance, And paled those trembling lips? THE VWA YSIDE INN. 83 What memory of past sorrow, What stab of present pain, Brought that deep look of anguish, That watched the dismal rain, That watched (with the absent spirit That looks, yet does not see) The dead and leafless branches Upon the Judas-Tree. The slow dark months crept onward Upon their icy way, Till April broke in showers, And Spring smiled forth in May; Upon the apple-blossoms The sun shone bright again, VWhen slowly up the highway Came a long funeral train. The bells tolled slowly, sadly, For a noble spirit fled; Slowly, in pomp and honor, They bore the quiet dead. Upon a black-plumed charger One rode, who held a shield, Where stars and azure fleurs-de-lis Shone on a silver field.'Mid all that homage given To a fluttering heart at rest, Perhaps an honest sorrow Dwelt only in one breast. One by the inn-door standing Watched with fast-dropping tears The long procession passing, And thought of bygone years. 84 VOICES OF THE PAST. The boyish, silent homage To child and bride unknown, The pitying tender sorrow Kept in his heart alone, Now laid upon the coffin With a purple flower, might be Told to the cold, dead sleeper; — The rest could only see A fragrant purple blossom, Plucked from a Judas-Tree. VOICES OF THE PAST. l,~~~IOU wonder that my tears should flow!~;~~ In listening to that simple strain; I~\W) [~/That those unskilful sounds should fill My soul with joy and pain: How can you tell what thoughts it stirs'Within my heart again? You wonder why that common phrase, So all unmeaning to your ear, Should stay me in my merriest mood, And thrill my soul to hear: How can you tell what ancient charm Has made me hold it dear? You marvel that I turn away From all those flowers so fair and bright, And gaze at this poor herb, till tears Arise and dim my sight: THE DARK SIDE. 85 You cannot tell how every leaf Breathes of a past delight. You smile to see me turn and speak WVith one whose converse you despise; You do not see the dreams of old That with his voice arise: How can you tell what links have made Him sacred in my eyes? 0 these are Voices of the Past, Links of a broken chain, Wings that can bear me back to Times Which cannot come again: Yet God forbid that I should lose The echoes that remain! THE DARK SIDE. HOU hast done well, perhaps, To lift the bright disguise, U~, ~/~'}~And lay the bitter truth Before our shrinking eyes; WVhen evil crawls below What seems so pure and fair, Thine eyes are keen and true To find the serpent there: And yet - I turn away; Thy task is not divine, - The evil angels look On earth with eyes like thine. 86 THE DARK SIDE. Thou hast done well, perhaps, To show how closely wound Dark threads of sin and self With our best deeds are found, How great and noble hearts, Striving for lofty aims, Have still some earthly chord A meaner spirit claims; And yet - although thy task Is well and fairly done, Methinks for such as thou There is a holier one. Shadows there are, who dwell Among us, yet apart, Deaf to the claim of God, Or kindly human heart; Voices of earth and heaven Call, but they turn away, And Love, through such black night, Can see no hope of day; And yet - our eyes are dim, And thine are keener far: Then gaze till thou canst see The glimmer of some star. The black stream flows along Whose waters we despise, - Show us reflected there Some fragment of the skies;'Neath tangled thorns and briers, (The task is fit for thee,) Seek for the hidden flowers, We are too blind to see; A FIRST SORROWI 87 Then will I thy great gift A crown and blessing call; Angels look thus on men, And God sees good in all d A FITRST SOBRROW. 15RIS1E! this clay shall shine, Forevermore, / To thee a star divine, _____ alOn Time's dark shorm Till now thy soul has been All glad and gay: Bid it awake, and look At grief to-day! No shade has come between Thee and the.sun; Like some long childish dream Thy life has run: But now the streamrr has reached A dark, deep sea, And Sorrow, dim and crowned, Is waiting thee. Each of God's soldiers bears A sw-ord divine: Stretch out thy trembling hlandIs To-dlay for thinl e! 88 MURMURS. To each anointed Priest God's summons came: 0 Soul, he speaks to-day, And calls thy name. Then, with slow reverent step, And beating heart, From out thy joyous days Thou must-depart. And, leaving all behind, Come forth alone, To join the chosen band Around the throne. Raise up thine eyes - be strong, Nor cast away The crown that God has given Thy soul to-day! MURMURS. HY wilt thou make bright music Give forth a sound of pain?.i: ~:~ ]Why wilt thou weave fair flowers Into a weary chain? Why turn each cool gray shadow Into a world of fears? Why say the winds are wailing? Why call the dewdrops tears? MURMURS. 89 The voices of happy nature, And the Heaven's sunny gleam, Reprove thy sick heart's fancies, Upbraid thy foolish dream. Listen, and I will tell thee The song Creation sings, From the humming of bees in the heather, To the flutter of angels' wings. An echo rings forever, The sound can never cease; It speaks to God of glory, It speaks to Earth of peace. Not alone did angels sing it To the poor shepherds' ear; But the sphered Heavens chant it, While listening ages hear. Above thy peevish wailing. Rises that holy song; Above Earth's foolish clamor, Above the voice of wrong. No creature of God's too lowly To murmur peace and praise: When the starry nights grow silent, Then speak the sunny days. So leave thy sick heart's fancies, And lend thy little voice To the silver song of glory That bids the world rejoice. go90 GIVE. GIVE. EE the rivers flowing Downwards to the sea, Pouring all their treasures Bountiful and free: Yet to help their giving Hidden springs arise; Or, if need be, showers Feed them from the skies! Watch the princely flowers Their rich fragrance spread, Load the air with perfumes, From their beauty shed: Yet their lavish spending Leaves them not in dearth, With fresh life replenished By their mother earth! Give thy heart's best treasures, - From fair Nature learn; Give thy love- and ask not, Wait not a return! And the more thou spendest From thy little store, With a double bounty, God will give thee more. MY JOURNAL. 9E MY JOURNAL. GdT is a dreary evening; The shadows rise and fall: With strange and ghostly changes, They flicker on the wall. Make the charred logs burn brighter; I will show you, by their blaze, The half-forgotten record Of bygone things and days. Bring here the ancient volume; The clasp is old and worn, The gold is dim and tarnished, And the faded leaves are torn,. The dust has gathered on it, - Thefe are so few who care To read what Time has written Of joy and sorrow there. Look at the first fair pages; Yes, I remember all: The joys now seem so trivial, The griefs so poor and small. Let us read the dreams of glory That childish fancy made; Turn to the next few pages, And see how soon they fade. 9l MY JO URNAL. Here, where still waiting, dreaming, For some ideal Life, The young heart all unconscious Had entered on the strife. See how this page is blotted: What, could those tears be mine? I-How coolly I can read you Each blurred and trembling line. Now I can reason calmly, And, looking back again, Can see divinest meaning Threading each separate pain. Here strong resolve - how broken; Rash hope, and foolish fear, And prayers, which God in pity Refused to grant or hear. Nay, I will turn the pages To where the tale is told Of how a dawn diviner Flushed the dark clouds with gold. And see, that light has gilded The story - nor shall set; And, though in mist and shadow, You know I see it yet. Here - well, it does not matter, I promised to read all; I know not why I falter, Or why my tears should fall; Ml Y JOURNAL. 93 You see each grief is noted; Yet it was better soI can rejoice to-day- the pain Was over, long ago. I read - my voice is failing, But you can understand How the heart beat that guided This weak and trembling hand. Pass over that long struggle, Read where the comfort came, Where the first time is written Within the book your name. Again it comes, and oftener, Linked, as it now must be, With all the joy or sorrow That Life may bring to me. So all the rest - you know it: Now shut the clasp again, And put aside the record Of bygone hours of pain. The dust shall gather on it, I will not read it more: Give me your hand - what was it We, were talking of before? I know not why -but tell me Of something gay and bright. It is strange - my heart is heavy, And my eyes are dim to-night. 94 A CHA IN. A CHAIN. HE bond that links our souls together; will it last through stormy weather i Will it moulder and decay' As the long hours pass away? Will it stretch if ]Fate divide us, When dark and weary hours have tried us? O, if it look too poor and slight, Let us break the links to-night! It was not forged by mortal hands, Or clasped with golden bars and bands; Save thine and mine, no other eyes The slender link can recognize: In the bright light it seems to fadeAnd it is hidden in the shade; While Heaven nor Earth have never heard, Or solemn vow, or plighted word. Yet what no mortal hand could make, No mortal power can ever break; WVhat words or vows could never do, No words or vows can make untrue; And if to other hearts unknown The dearer and the more our own, Because too sacred and divine For other eyes, save thine and mine. And see, though slender, it is made Of Love and Trust, and can they fade? THE PILGRIMS. 95 While, if too slight it seem, to bear The breathings of the summer air, WVe know that it could bear the weight Of a most heavy heart of late, And as each day and hour flew The stronger for its burthen grew. And, too, we know and feel again It has been sanctified by pain, For what God deigns to try with sorrow He means not to decay to-morrow; But through that fiery trial last VWhen earthly ties and bonds are past; What slighter things dare not endure WVill make our Love more safe and pure. Love shall be purified by Pain, And Pain be soothed by Love again: So let us now take heart and go Cheerfully on, through joy and woe; No change the summer sun can bring, Or the inconstant skies of spring, Or the bleak winter's stormy weather, For we shall meet them, Love, together! THE PILGRIMS. HE way is long and dreary, The path is bleak and bare; Our feet are worn and weary, But we will not despair. 96 INCOMPLETENESS. More heavy was Thy burthen, More desolate Thy way; — O Lamb of God who takest The sin of the world away;, HIave mercy on us. Tilhe snows lie thick around us In the dark and gloomy night; And the tempest wails above us, And the stars have hid their light; But blacker was the darkness Round Calvary's Cross that day; — 0 Lamb of God who takest The sin of the world away, Have mercy on us. Our hearts are faint with sorrow, Heavy and hard to bear; FEor we dread the bitter morrow, But we will not despair: Thou knowest all our anguish, And Thou wilt bid it cease, - O Lamb of God who takest The sin of the world away, Give us Thy Peace! INCOMPLETENE SS. [ xs'' ~ OTHING resting in its own completeness Can have worth or beauty: but alone Because it leads and tends to farther sweetness, Fuller, higher, deeper than its own. INCOMPLETENESS. 97 Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning, Gracious though it be, of her blue hours; But is hidden in her tender leaning To the Summer's richer wealth of flowers. Dawn is fair, because the mists fade slowly Into Day, which floods the'world with light; Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy Just because it ends in starry Night. Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow From Strife, that in a far-off future lies; And angel glances (veiled now.by Life's sorrow) Draw our hearts to some belov'ed eyes. Life is only bright when it proceedeth Towards a truer, deeper Life above; Human Love is sweetest when it leadeth To a more divine and perfect Love. Learn the mystery of Progression duly: Do not call each glorious change, Decay; But know we only hold our treasures truly, When it seems as if they passed away. Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; In that want their beauty lies: they roll Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness, Bearing onward man's reluctant soul. 7 98 A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. [>f lIIRT round with rugged mountains [?7'"~~ [ ~ The fair Lake Constance lies; In her blue heart reflected ~~ 5~[ Shine back the starry skies; And, watching each white cloudlet Float silently and slow, You think a piece of Heaven Lies on our earth below! Midnight is there: and Silence, Enthroned in Heaven, looks down Upon her own calm mirror, Upon a sleeping town: For Bregenz, that quaint city Upon the Tyrol shore, Has stood above Lake Constance A thousand years and more. Her battlements and towers, From off their rocky steep, Have cast their trembling shadow For ages on the deep: Mountain, and lake, and valley, A sacred legend know, Of how the town was saved, one night, Three hundred years ago. Far from her home and kindred, A Tyrol maid had fled, A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. 99 To serve in the Swiss valleys, And toil for daily bread; And every year that fleeted So silently and fast, Seemed to bear farther from her The memory of the Past. She served kind, gentle masters, Nor asked for rest or change; Her friends seemed no more new ones, Their speech seemed no more strange; And when she led her cattle To pasture every day, She ceased to look and wonder On which side Bregenz lay. She spoke no more of Bregenz, With longing and with tears; Her Tyrol home seemed faded In a deep mist of years; She heeded not the rumors Of Austrian war and strife; Each day she rose contented, To the calm toils of life. Yet, when her master's children Would clustering round her stand, She sang them ancient ballads Of her own native land; And when at morn and evening She knelt before God's throne, The accents of her childhood Rose to her lips alone. zoo A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. And so she dwelt: the valley More peaceful year by year; When suddenly strange portents, Of some great deed seemed near. The golden corn was bending Upon its fragile stalk, While farmers, heedless of their fields, Paced up and down in talk. The men seemed stern and altered, With looks cast on the ground; With anxious faces, one by one, The women gathered round; All talk of flax, or spinning, Or work, was put away; The very children seemed afraid To go alone to play. One day, out in the meadow With strangers from the town, Some secret plan discussing, The men walked up and down. Yet now and then seemed watching A strange uncertain gleam, That looked like lances'mid the trees, That stood below the stream. At eve they all assembled, Then care and doubt were fled; With jovial laugh they feasted; The board was nobly spread. The elder of the village Rose up, his glass in hand, And cried,, We drink the downfall Of an accursed land! A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. IO "The night is growing darker, Ere one more day is flown, Bregenz, our foemen's stronghold, Bregenz shall be our own!" The women shrank in terror, (Yet Pride, too, had her part,) But one poor Tyrol maiden Felt death within her heart. Before her stood fair Bregenz; Once more her towers arose; What were the fiiends beside her? Only her country's foes! The faces of her kinsfolk, The days of childhood flown, The echoes of her mountains, Reclaimed her as their own! Nothing she heard around her, (Though shouts rang forth again,) Gone were the green Swiss valleys, The pasture, and the plain; Before her eyes one vision, And in her heart one cry, That said, " Go forth, save Bregenz, And then, if need be; die! " With trembling haste and breathless, With noiseless step, she sped; Horses and weary cattle Were standing in the shed; She loosed the strong, white charger, That fed from out her hand, She mounted, and she turned his head Towards her native land. z02 A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. Out- out into the darkness - Faster, and still more fast; The smooth grass flies behind her, The chestnut wood is past; She looks up; clouds are heavy: Why is her steed so slow? - Scarcely the wind beside them Can pass them as they go. " Faster! " she cries, " 0 faster!" Eleven the church-bells chime: " 0 God," she cries, " help Bregenz, And bring me there in time!" But louder than bells' ringing, Or lowing of the kine, Grows nearer in the midnight The rushing of the Rhine. Shall not the roaring waters Their -headlong gallop check? The steed draws back in terror, She leans upon his neck To watch the flowing darkness; The bank is high and steep; One pause - he staggers forward, And plunges in the deep. She strives to pierce the blackness, And looser throws the rein; Her steed must breast the waters That dash above his mane. How gallantly, how nobly, He struggles through the foam, And see- in the far distance Shine out the lights of home! A LEGEND OF BREGENZ. 103 Up the steep banks he bears her, And now, they rush again Towards the heights of Bregenz, That tower above the plain. They reach the gate of Bregenz, Just as the midnight rings, And out come serf and soldier To meet the news she brings. Bregenz is saved! Ere daylight Her battlements are manned; Defiance greets the army That marches on the land. And if to deeds heroic Should endless fame be paid, Bregenz does well to honor The noble Tyrol maid. Three hundred years are vanished, And yet upon the hill An old stone gateway rises, To do her honor still. And there, when Bregenz women Sit spinning in the shade, They see in quaint old carving The Charger and the Maid. And when, to guard old Bregenz, By gateway, street, and tower, The warder paces all night long And calls each passing hour; "' Nine," "' ten," "eleven," he cries aloud, And then (O crown of Fame!) When midnight pauses in the skies, He calls the maiden's name! 104 oA FAREWELL. A FAREWELL. AREWELL, 0 dream of mine! I dare not stay; The hour is come, and time IVill not delay: Pleasant and dear to me Wilt thou remain; No future hour Brings thee again. She stands, the Future dim, And draws me on, And shows me dearer joys, - But thou art gone! Treasures and Hopes more fair Bears she for me, And yet I linger, O dream, with thee! Other and brighter days Perhaps she brings; Deeper and holier songs Perchance she sings; But thou and I, fair time, WVe too must sever: - O dream of mine, Farewell for ever! SO WING AND REAPING. I05 SOWING AND REAPING. OW with a generous hand; Pause not for toil or pain; Weary not thiough the heat of summer, Weary not through the cold spring rain; But wait till the autumn comes For the sheaves of golden grain. Scatter the seed, and fear not, A table will be spread; What matter if you are too weary To eat your hard-earned bread: Sow, while the earth is broken, For the hungry must be fed. Sow; - while the seeds are lying In the warm earth's bosom deep, And your warm tears fall upon it, - They will stir in their quiet sleep; And the green blades rise the quicker, Perchance, for the tears you weep. Then sow; - for the hours are fleeting, And the seed'must fall to-day; And care not what hands shall reap it, Or if you shall have passed away Before the waving corn-fields Shall gladden the sunny day. Io6 THE STORMJ. Sow; and look onward, upward, Where the starry light appears,Where, in spite of the coward's doubting, Or your own heart's trembling fears, You shall reap in joy the harvest You have sown to-day in tears. THE STORM. HE tempest rages wild and high, The waves lift up their voice and cry Fierce answers to the angry sky, - 2Mliserere Domine. Through the black night and driving rain, A ship is struggling, all in vain, To live upon the stormy main; - Miserere Domnine. The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, Vain is it now to strive or dare; A cry goes up of great despair, - Mliserere Domine. The stormy voices of the main, The moaning wind and pelting rain Beat on the nursery window-pane:lfiserere Domine, WORDS. o07 Warm curtained was the little bed, Soft pillowed was the little head; "The storm will wake the child," they said:Miserere Donmine. Cowering among his pillows white He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, "Father, save those at sea to-night! "Miserere Domine. The morning shone all clear and gay, On a ship at anchor in the bay, And on a little child at play, - Gloria tibi Domine! WORDSo ORDS are lighter than the cloud-foam Of the restless ocean spray; Vainer than the trembling shadow That the next hour steals away. By the fall of summer rain-drops Is the air as deeply stirred; And the rose-leaf that we tread on Will outlive a word. Yet, on hle dull silence breaking With a lightning flash, a Word, Bearing endless desolation On its blighting wings, I heard: log WORDS. Earth can forge no keener weapon, Dealing surer death and pain, And: the cruel echo answered Through long years again. I have known one word hang starlike O'er a dreary waste of years, And it only shone the brighter Looked at through a mist of tears; While a weary wanderer gathered Hope and heart on Life's dark way, By its faithful promise, shining Clearer day by day. I have known a spirit, calmer Than the calmest lake, and clear As the heavens that gazed upon it, With no wave of hope or fear; But a storm had swept across it, And its deepest depths were stirred, (Never, never more to slumber,) Only by a word. I have known a word more gentle Than the breath of summer air; In a listening heart it nestled, And it lived forever there. Not the beating of its prison Stirred it ever, night or day; Only with the heart's last throbbing Could it fade away. Words are mighty, words are living: Serpents with their venomous stings, A L 0 VE TOKEN. og9 Or bright angels, crowding round us, With heaven's light upon their wings: Every word has its own spirit, True or false, that never dies; Every word man's lips have uttered Echoes in God's skies. A LOVE TOKEN. t-v,~Ot0 you grieve no costly offering To the Lady you can make? One there is, and gifts less worthy Queens have stooped to take. Take a Heart of virgin silver, Fashion it with heavy blows, Cast it into Love's hot furnace When it fiercest glows. VWith Pain's sharpest point transfix it, And then carve, in letters fair, Tender dreams and quaint devices, Fancies sweet and rare. Set within it Hope's blue sapphire, Many-changing opal fears, Blood-red ruby-stones of daring, Mixed with pearly tears. And when you have wrought and labored Till the gift is all complete, IIO A TRYST WITH DEATH. You may humbly lay your offering At the Lady's feet. Should her mood perchance be gracious, With disdainful, smiling pride, She will place it with the trinkets Glittering at her side. A TRYST WITH DEATH. 0C1r1 X AM footsore and very weary, But I travel to meet a:Friend: The way is long and dreary, But I know that it soon must end. He is travelling fast like the whirlwind, And though I creep slowly on, WVe are drawing nearer, nearer, And the journey is almost done. Through the heat of many summers, Through many a spring-time rain, Through long autumns and weary winters, I have hoped to meet him in vain. I know that he will not fail me, So I count every hour chime, Every throb of my own heart's beating, That tells of the flight of Time. On the day of my birth he plighted His kingly word to me: — FIDELIS. I I I I have seen him in dreams so often, That I know what his smile must be. I have toiled through the sunny woodland, Through fields that basked in the light; And through the lone paths in the forest I crept in the dead of night. I will not fear at his coming, Although I must meet him alone; He will look in my eyes so gently, And take my hand in his own. Like a dream all my toil will vanish, When I lay my head on his breast: But the journey is very weary, And he only can give me rest! FIDELIS. OU have taken back the promise That you spoke so long ago; Taken back the heart you gave me, - I must even let it go. Where Love once has breathed, Pride dieth: So I struggled, but in vain, First to keep the links together, Then to piece the broken chain. But it might not be - so freely All your friendship I restore, FIDEL S. And the heart that I had taken As my own for evermore. No shade of reproach shall touch you, Dread no more a claim from me: But I will not have you fancy That I count myself as free. I am bound by the old promise; What can break that golden chain? Not even the words that you have spoken, Or tlie sharpness of my pain: Do you think, because you fail me And draw back your hand to-day, That from out the heart I gave you My strong love can fade away? It will live. No eyes may see it; In my soul it will lie deep, Hidden from all; but I shall feel it Often stirring in its sleep. So remember, that the friendship, Which you now think poor-and vain, Will endure in hope and patience, Till you ask for it again. Perhaps in some long twilight hour, Like those we have known of old, When past shadows gather round you, And your present friends grow cold, You may stretch your hands out towards me, - Ah! you will - I know not when - I shall nurse my love and keep it Faithfully, for you, till then. A SHAD OW 113 A SHADOW.'HAT lack the valleys and mountains ~ t 2\wE A That once were green and gay? What lack the babbling fountains? Their voice is sad to-day. Only the sound of a voice, Tender and sweet and low, That made the earth rejoice, A year ago! What lack the tender -flowers? A shadow is on the sun: What lack the merry hours, That I long that they were done? Only two smiling eyes, That told of joy and mirth; They are shining in the skies, I mourn on earth! What lacks my heart, that makes it So weary and full of pain, That trembling Hope forsakes it, Never to come again? Only another heart, Tender and all mine own, In the still grave it lies; I weep alone! I14 THIE SAILOR BOY. THE SAILOR BOY. EY Life you ask of l why, you know Full soon my little Life is told; It has had no great joy or woe, For I am only twelve years old. Erelong I hope I shall have been On my first voyage, and wonders seen. Some princess I may help to free From pirates on a far-off sea; Or, on some desert isle be left, Of friends and shipmates all bereft. For the first time I venture forth From our blue mountains of the north. My kinsman kept the lodge that stood Guarding the entrance near the wood, By the stone gateway gray and old, With quaint devices carved about, And broken shields; while dragons bold Glared on the common world without; And the long trembling ivy spray Half hid the centuries' decay. In solitude and silence grand The castle towered above the land: The castle of the Earl, whose name (Wrapped in old bloody legends) came Down through the times when Truth and Right Bent down to armed Pride and Might. He owned the country far and near; And, for some weeks in every year, (When the brown leaves were falling fast THE SAILOR BOY. I I5 And the long, lingering autumn past,) He would come down to hunt the deer, With hound and horse in splendid pride. The story lasts the live-long year, The peasant's winter evening fills, When he is gone and they abide In the lone quiet of their hills. I longed, too, for the happy night, When, all with torches flaring bright, The crowding villagers would stand, A patient, eager, waiting band, Until the signal ran like flame, " They come! " and, slackening speed, they came. Outriders first, in pomp and state, Pranced on their horses through the gate; Then the four steeds as black as night, All decked with trappings blue and white, Drew through the crowd that opened wide, The Earl and Countess side by side. The stern grave Earl, with formal smile And glistening eyes and stately pride, Could ne'er my childish gaze beguile From the fair presence by his side. The lady's soft sad glance, her eyes, (Like stars that shone in summer skies,) Her pure white face so calmly bent, With gentle greetings round her sent; Her look, that always seemed to gaze Where the blue past had closed again Over some happy shipwrecked days, With all their freight of love and pain: She did not even seem to seeThe little lord upon her knee. ii6 THE SAIL OR B 0 O. And yet he was like angel fair, With rosy cheeks and golden hair, That fell on shoulders white as snow: But the blue eyes that shone below His clustering rings of auburn curls Were not his mother's, but the Earl's. I feared the Earl, sc cold and grim, I never dared be seen by -him. When through our gate lie used to ride, My kinsman Walter bade me hide; He said he was so stern. So, when the hunt came past our way, I always hastened to obey, Until I heard the bugles play The notes of their return. But she - my very heart-strings stir Whene'er I speak or think of her - The whole wide world could never see A noble lady such as she, So full of angel charity. Strange things of her our neighbors told In the long winter evenings cold, Around the fire. They would draw near And speak half-whispering, as in fear; As if they thought the Earl could hear Their treason'gainst his name. They thought the story that his pride Had stooped to wed a low-born bride, A stain upon his fame. Some said't was false; there could not be Such blot on his nobility: But others vowed that they had heard THE,SAILOR BOY. 117 The actual story word for word, From one who well my lady knew, And had declared the story true. In a far village, little known, She dwelt - so ran the tale - alone. A widowed bride, yet, oh! so bright, Shone through the mist of grief, her charms; They said it was the loveliest sight - She with her baby in her arms. The Earl, one summer morning, rqde By the sea-shore where she abode; Again he came - that vision sweet Drew him reluctant to her feet. Fierce must the struggle in his heart Have been, between his love and pride, Until he chose that wondrous part, To ask her to become his bride. Yet, ere his noble name she bore, He made her vow that nevermore She would behold her child again, But hide his name and hers from men. The trembling promise duly spoken, All links of the low past were broken; And she arose to take her stand Amid the nobles of the land. Then all would wonder- could it be That one so lowly born as she, Raised to such height of bliss, should seem Still living in some weary dream?'T is true she bore with calmest grace The honors of her lofty place, Yet never smiled, in peace or joy, Not even to greet her princely boy. I 8 TIIE SAIL OR B OY. She heard, with face of white despair, The cannon thunder through the air, That she had given the Earl an heir. Nay, even more, (they whispered low, As if they scarce durst fancy so,) That, throudgh her lofty wedded life, No word, noiltone, betrayed the wife. Her look seemed ever in the past; Never to him it grew more sweet; The self-same weary glance she cast Upon the greyhound at her feet, As upon him, who bade her claim The crowning honor of his name. This gossip, if old Walter heard, He checked it with a scornful word: I never durst such tales repeat; He was too serious and discreet To speak of what his lord might do; Besides, he loved my lady too. And many a time, I recollect, They were together in the wood; He, with an air of grave respect, And earnest look, uncovered stood. And though their speech I never heard, (Save now and then a louder word,) I saw he spake as none but one She loved and trusted durst have done; For oft I watched them in the shade That the close forest brannchcs made, Till slanting golden sunbeams came And smote the fir-trees into flame, A radiant glory round her lit, Then down her white robes seemed to flit, THE JSAILOR BOY. 0 I Gilding the brown leaves on the ground, And all the waving fernfs around. While by some gloomy pine she leant And he in earnest talk would stand, I saw the tear-drops, as she bent, Fall on the flowers in her hand.Strange as it seemed and seems to be, That one so Sad, so cold as she, Could love a little child like me, Yet so it was. I never heard Such tender words as she would say, And murmurs, sweeter than a word, Would breathe upon me as I lay. While I, in smiling joy, would rest, Eor hours, my head upon her breast. Our neighbors said that none could see In me the comtmon childish charms, (So grave and still I: used to be,) And yet she held me in her arms, In a fond clasp, so close, so tight, I often dream of it at night. She bade me tell her all, - no other My childish thoughts e'er cared to know: For I- I never knew my mother; I -was an orphan long ago. And I could all my fancies pour, That gentle, loving face before. She liked to hear me tell her all; How that clay I had climbed the tree, To make the largest fir-cones fall; Ancl how one day I hoped to be A sailor on the deep blue sea, - She loved to hear it a11! X zo THE SAIL OR B 0 Y. Then wondrous things she used to tell, Of the strange dreams that she had knownm I used to love to hear them well, If only for her sweet low tone, Sometimes so sad, although I knew That such thinigs never could be true, One day she told me such a tale It made me grow all cold and pale, The fearful thing she told! Of a poor woman mad and wild Who coined the life-blood of her child, And, tempted by a fiend, had sold The heart out of her breast for gold. But when she saw me frightened seem, She smiled, and said it was a dream. When. I look back and think of her, My very heart-strings seem to stir; How kind, how fair she was, how good, I cannot tell you. If I could, You, too, would love her. The mere thought Of her great love for me has brought Tears in my eyes: though far away, It seems as it were yesterday. And just as when I look on high, Through the blue silence of the sky, Fresh stars shine out, and more and more, Where I could see so few before; So, the more steadily I gaze Upon those far-off misty days, Fresh words, fresh tones, fresh memories start Before my eyes and in my heart. I can remember how one day (Talking in silly childish way) I said how happy I should be THE SAILOR BOY. IZI If I were like her son, - as fair, With just such bright blue eyes as he, And such long locks of golden hair. A strange smile on her pale face broke, And in strange, solemn words she spoke: "My own, my darling one, - no, no! I love you, far, far better so. I would not change the look you bear, Or one wave of your dark brown hair. The mere glance of your sunny eyes, Deep in my deepest soul I prize Above that baby fair! Not one of all the Earl's proud line In beauty ever matched with thine; And,'t is by thy dark locks thou art Bound even faster round my heart, And made more wholly mine! " And then she paused, and weeping said, " You are like one who now is dead, - Who sleeps in a far-distant grave. 0, may God grant that you may be As noble and as good as he, As gentle and as brave! " Then in my childish way I cried, " The one you tell me of who died, Was he as noble as the Earl? " I see her red lips scornful curl, I feel her hold my hand again, So tightly, that I shrink in pain, - I seem to hear her say, s "He whom I tell you of, who died, He was so noble and so gay, So generous and so brave, That the proud Earl by his dear side 122. THE SAILOR BOY. Would look a craven slave." She paused; then, with a quivering sigh, She laid her hand upon my brow: "Live like him, darling, and so die. Remember that he tells you now, True peace, real honor, and content, In cheerful, pious toil abide; That gold and splendor are but sent To curse our vanity and pride." One day some childish fever pain Burnt in my veins and fired my brain. Moaning, I turned from side to side; And, sobbing in my bed, I cried, Till night in calm and darkness crept Around me, and at last I slept. When suddenly I woke to see The Lady bending over me. The drops of cold November rain Were falling from her long, damp hair; Her anxious eyes were dim with pain; Yet she lobked wondrous flair. Arrayed for some great feast she came, W5ith stones that shone and burnt like flame; Wound round her neck, like some bright snake, And set like stars within her hair, They sparkled so, they seemed to make A glory everywhere. I felt her tears upon my face, Her kisses on my eyes; And a strange thought I could not trace I felt within my heart arise; And, half in feverish pain, I said: "0 O if my mother were not dead! " THE SAILOR BOY. x23 And Walter bade me sleep; but she Said, " Is it not the same to thee That I watch by thy bed " I answered her, "I love you, too; But it can never be the same; She was no Countess like to you, Nor wore such sparkling stones of flame." O the wild look of fear and dread! The cry she gave of bitter woe! I often wonder what I said To make her moan and shudder so. Through the long night she tended me With such sweet care and charity. But I should weary you to tell All that I know and love so well: Yet one night more stands out alone With a sad sweetness all its own. The wind blew loud that dreary night: Its wailing voice I well remember; The stars shone out so large and bright Upon the frosty fir-boughs white, That dclrarv niglht of cold December. I saw old Walter silent stand, Watching the soft, white flakes of snow With looks I could not understand, Of strange perplexity and woe. At last he turned and took my hand, And said the Countess just had sent To )id us come; for she would fain See me once more, before she wvent Away - never to come again. We came in silence through the wood (Onr footfall was the only sound) 124 THE SAILOR BOY. To where the great white castle stood, With darkness shadowing it around. Breathless, we trod with cautious care Up the great echoing marble stair; Trembling, by Walter's hand I held, Scared by the splendors I beheld: Now thinking, " Should the Earl appear!" Now looking up with giddy fear To the dim, vaulted roof that spread Its gloomy arches overhead. Long corridors we softly passed, (My heart was beating loud and fast,) And reached the Lady's room at last: A strange, faint odor seemed to weigh Upon the dim and darkened air; One shaded lamp, with softened ray, Scarce showed the gloomy splendor there. The dull red brands were burning low, And yet a fitful gleam of light Would now and then, with sudden glow, Start forth, then sink again in night. I gazed around, yet half in fear, Till Walter told me to draw near: And in the strange and flickering light, Towards the Lady's bed I crept; All folded round with snowy white, She lay; (one would have said she slept;) So still the look of that white face, It seemed as it were carved in stone, I paused before I dared to place Within her cold white hand my own. But, with a smile of sweet surprise, She turned to me her dreamy eyes; And slowly, as if life were pain, THE SAILOR BOY. I25 She drew me in her arms to lie: She strove to speak, and strove in vain; Each breath was like a long-drawn sigh. The throbs that seemed to shake her breast, The trembling clasp, so loose and weak, At last grew calmer, and at rest; And then she strove once more to speak:,, My God, I thank thee, that my pain Of day by day, and year by year, Has not been suffered all in vain, And I may die while he is near. I will not fear but that Thy grace Has swept away my sin and woe, And sent this little angel face, In my last hour, to tell me so." (And here her voice grew faint and low,) " My child, where'er thy life may go, To know that thou art brave and true, Will pierce the highest heavens through, And even there my soul shall be More joyful for this thought of thee." She folded her white hands, and stayed; All cold and silently she lay: I knelt beside the bed, and prayed The prayer she used to make me say. I said it many times, and then She did not move, but seemed to be In a deep sleep, nor stirred again. No sound woke in the silent room, Or broke the dim and solemn gloom, Save when the brands that burnt so low, With noisy, fitful gleam of light, Wotuld spread around a sudden glow, Then sink in silence and in night. i 26 THE SAILOR BOY. How long I stood I do not know: At last poor Walter caine, and said (So sadly) that we now must go, And whispered, she we loved was dead. He bade me kiss her face once more, Then led me sobbing to the door. 1 scarcely knew what dying meant, Yet a strange grief, before unknown, Weighed on my spirit as we went And left her lying all alone. We went to the far North once more, To seek the well-remembered home Where my poor kinsman dwelt before, Whence now he was too old to roam; And there six happy years we past, Happy and peaceful till the last; When poor old Walter died, and he Blessed me and said I now might be A sailor on the deep blue sea. And so I go; and yet in spite Of all the joys I long to know, Though I look onward with delight, With something of regret I go; And young or old, on land or sea, One guiding memory I shall take,Of what She prayed that I might be, And what I will be for her sake! THE L.ESSON OF THE rWAR. 127 A CROWN OF SORROW. f SORROWV, wet with early tears Yet bitter, had been long with mc; I wearied of this weight of years, And iwould be free. I tore my Sorrow from my heart, I cast it far away in scorn; Right joyful that we two could part, Yet most forlorn. I sought, (to take my Sorrow's place,) Over the world for flower or gem; But she had had an ancient grace Unknown to them. I took once more with strange delight My slighted Sorrow; proudly now I wear it, set with stars of light, Upon my brow. THIE LESSON OF THE WAR. 1855. IE feast is spread through England i.~, ]For rich and poor to-day; Greetings and laughter may be there, But thoughts are far away; i28 THE LESSON OF THEL WAR. Over the stormy ocean, Over the dreary track, Where some are gone, whom England Will never welcome back. Breathless she waits, and listens For every eastern breeze That bears upon its bloody wings News from beyond the seas. The leafless branches stirring Make many a watcher start; The distant tramp of steed may send A throb from heart to heart. The rulers of the nation, The poor ones at their gate, With the same eager wonder The same great news await. The poor man's stay and comfort, The rich man's joy and pride, Upon the bleak Crimean shore Are fighting side by side. The bullet comes- and either A desolate hearth may see; And God alone to-night knows where The vacant place may be! The dread that stirs the peasant Thrills nobles' hearts with fear; Yet above selfish sorrow Both hold their country dear. The rich man who reposes In his ancestral shade, THE LESSON OF THE WAR. I29 The peasant at his ploughshare, The worker at his trade, Each one his all has perilled, Each has the same great stake, Each soul can but have patience, Each heart can only break! Hushed is all party clamor; One thought in every heart, One dread in every household, Has bid such strife depart. England has called her children; Long silent - the word came That lit the smouldering ashes Through all the land to flame. O you who toil and suffer, You gladly heard the call; But those you sometimes envy Have they not given their all? O you who rule the nation, Take now the toil-worn hand: Brothers you are in-sorrow, In duty to your land. Learn but this noble lesson Ere Peace returns again, And the life-blood of Old England Will not be shed in vain. 9 130 THE, TWO SPIRITS. THE TWO SPIRITS. 1855. AST night, when weary silence fell on all, X And starless skies arose so dim and vast, I heard the Spirit of the Present call Upon the sleeping Spirit of the Past. Par off and near, I saw their radiance shine, And listened while they spoke of deeds divine. The Spirit of the Past. My deeds are writ in iron; My glory stands alone; A veil of shadowy honor Upon my tombs is thrown; The great names of my heroes Like gems in history lie; To live they deemed ignoble, Had they the chance to die! The Spirit of the Present. My children, too, are honored; Dear shall their memory be To the proud lands that own them; Dearer than thine to thee; For, though they hold that sacred Is God's great gift of life, At the first call of duty They rush into the strife! THE T WO SPIRITS. 131 Thle Spirit of the Past. Then, with all valiant precepts Woman's soft heart was fraught; "Death, not dishonor," echoed The war-cry she had taught. Fearless and glad, those mothers, At bloody deaths elate, Cried out they bore their children Only for such a fate! The Spirit of the Present. Though such stern laws of honor Artfaded now away, Yet many a mourning mother, With nobler grief than they, Bows down in sad submission: The heroes of the fight Learnt at her knee the lesson, " For God and for the Right!" The Spirit of the Past. No voice there. spake of sorrow: They saw the noblest fall With no repining murmur; Stern Fate was lord of all. And when the loved ones perished, One cry alone arose, Waking the startled echoes,, Vengeance upon our foes! The Spirit of the Present. Grief dwells in France and England For many a noble son; 132 THE TWO SPIRITS. Yet louder than the sorrow, " Thy will, 0 God, be done!" From desolate homes is rising One prayer, - "Let carnage cease! On friends and foes have mercy, O Lord, and give us peace!" The Spirit of the Past. Then, every hearth was honored That sent its children forth, To spread their country's glory, And gain her south or north. Then, little recked they numbers, No band would ever fly, But stern and resolute they stood To conquer or to die. The Spirit of the Present. And now from France and England Their dearest and their best Go forth to succor freedom, To help the much oppressed; Now, let the far-off Future And Past bow down to-day, Before the few young hearts that hold Whole armaments at bay. The Spirit of the Past. Then, each one strove for honor, Each for a deathless name; Love, home, rest, joy, were offered As sacrifice to Fame. A LITTLE LONGER. I33 They longed that in far ages Their deeds might still be told, And distant times and nations Their names in honor hold. The Spirit of the Present. Though nursed by such old legends, Our heroes of to-day Go cheerfully to battle As children go to play, They gaze with awe and wonder On your great names of pride, Unconscious that their own will shine In glory side by side! Day dawned; and as the Spirits passed away, Methought I saw, in the dim morning gray, The Past's bright diadem had paled before The starry crown the glorious Present wore. A LITTLE LONGER. LITTLE longer yet- a little longer, Shall violets bloom for thee, and sweet birds sing; And the lime-branches, where soft winds are blowing, Shall murmur the sweet promise of the Spring! A little longer yet- a little longer, Thou shalt behold the quiet of the morn; 134 A LITTLE LONGER. While tender grasses and awakening flowers Send up a golden mist to greet the dawn! A little longer yet- a little longer, The tenderness of twilight shall be thine, The rosy clouds that float o'er dying. daylight, Nor fade till trembling stars begin to shine. A little longer yet -a little longer, Shall starry night be beautiful for thee; And the cold moon shall look through the blue silence, Flooding her silver path upon the sea. A little longer yet - a little longer, Life shall be thine; life with its power to will; Life with its strength to bear, to love, to conquer, Bringing its thousand joys thy heart to fill. A little longer yet - a little longer, The voices thou hast loved shall charm thine ear; And thy true heart, that now beats quick to hear them, A little longer yet shall hold them dear. A little longer yet —joy while thou mayest; Love and rejoice! for time has naught in store: And soon the darkness of the grave shall bid thee Love and rejoice and feel and know no more. A little longer still- Patience, Beloved: A little longer still, ere Heaven unroll GRIEF. 3 5 The Glory, and the Brightness, and the Wonder, Eternal, and divine, that waits thy Soul! A little longer ere Life true, immortal, (Not this our shadowy Life,) will be thine own; And thou shalt stand where winged Archangels worship, And trembling bow before the Great White Throne. A little longer still, and Heaven awaits thee, And fills thy spirit with a great delight; Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten, Our Sun a darkness, and our Day, a Night. A little longer, and thy Heart, Beloved, Shall beat forever with a Love divine; And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal, No creature knows and lives, will then be thine. A little longer yet - and angel voices Shall ring in heavenly chant upon thine ear; Angels and Saints await thee, and God needs thee: Belovbd, can we bid thee linger here! GRIEF. N ancient enemy have I, And either he or I must die; lFor he never leaveth me, Never gives my soul relief, Never lets my sorrow cease, Never gives my spirit peace, - For mine enemy is Grief! 136 GRIEF. Pale he is, and sad and stern; And whene'er he cometh nigh, Blue and dim the torches burn, Pale and shrunk the roses turn; While my heart that he has pierced Many a time with fiery lance, Beats and trembles at his glance: Clad in burning steel is he, All my strength he can defy; For he never leaveth me - And one of us must die 1 I have said, "Let ancient sages Charm me from my thoughts of pain!" So I read their deepest pages, And I strove to think -in vain! Wisdom's cold, calm words I tried, But he was seated by my side:Learning I have won in vain; She cannot rid me of my pain. WVhen at last soft sleep comes o'er-me, A cold hand is on my heart; Stern sad eyes are there before me; Not in dreams' will he depart: And when the same dreary vision From my weary brain has fled, Daylight brings the living phantom, He is seated by my bed, Bending o'er me all the while, With his cruel, bitter smile, Ever with me, ever nigh; — And either he or I must die! GRIEF. 137 Then I said, long time ago, "I will flee to other climes, I will leave mine ancient foe!" Though I wandered far and wide Still he followed at my side. And I fled where the blue waters Bathe the sunny isles of Greece; Where Thessalian mountains rise Up against the purple skies; Where a haunting memory liveth In each wood and cave and rill; But no dream of gods could help me,He went with me still! I have been where Nile's broad, river Flows upon the burning sand; Where the desert monster broodeth, Where the Eastern palm-trees stand; I have been where pathless forests Spread a black eternal shade; Where the lurking panther hiding Glares from every tangled glade; But in vain I wandered wide, He was always by my side! Then I fled where snows eternal Cold and dreary ever lie; Where the rosy lightnings gleam, Flashing through the northern sky; Where the red sun turns again Back upon his path of pain; - But a shadowy form was with me, - I had fled in vain! 138 GRIEF. I have thought, " If I can gaze Sternly on him he will fade, For I know that he is nothing But a dim ideal shade." As I gazed at him the more, He grew stronger than before! Then I said, "Mine arm is strong, I will make him turn and flee"; I have struggled with-him long - But that could never be! Once I battled with him so That I thought I laid him low; Then in trembling joy I fled, While again and still again Murmuring to myself I said, " Mine old enemy is dead! " And I stood beneath the stars, When a chill came on my frame, And a fear I could not name, And a sense of quick despair, And, lo! —mine enemy was there! Listen, for my soul is weary, Weary of its endless woe; I have called on one to aid me Mightier even than my foe. Strength and hope fail day by day; I shall cheat him of his prey; Some day soon, I know not when, He will stab me through and through; He has wounded me before, But my heart can bear no more; THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. I 39 Pray that hour may come to me, Only then shall I be free; Death alone has strength to take me Where my foe can never be; Death, and Death alone, has power To conquer mine old enemy! THE TRIUMPH OF TIME. HE tender, delicate Flowers, I saw them fanned by a warm western Fed by soft summer showers, Shielded by care, and yet, (O Fate unkind!) Fade in a few short hours. The gentle and the gay, Rich in a glorious Future of bright deeds, Rejoicing in the day, Are met by Death, who sternly, sadly leads Them far away. And Hopes, perfumed and bright, So lately shining, wet with dew and tears, Trembling in morning light; I saw them change to dark and anxious fears Before the night! I wept that all must die: "Yet Love," I cried, "dcloth live, and conquer death -" And Time passed by, 140 A PARTING. And breathed on Love, and killed it with his breath Ere Death was nigh. More bitter far than all It was to know that Love could change and die! - Hush! for the ages call, "The Love of God lives through eternity, And conquers all! " A PARTING. ITHOUT one bitter feeling let us part, - And for the years in which your love has shed A radiance like a glory round my head, I thank you, yes, I thank you from my heart. I thank you for the cherished hope of years, A starry future, dim and yet divine, Winging its way from Heaven to he mine, Laden with joy, and ignorant of tears. I thank you, yes, I thank you even more That my heart learnt not without love to live, But gave and gave, and still had more to give, From an abundant and exhaustless store. I thank you, and no grief is in these tears; I thank you, not in bitterness but truth, For the fair vision that adorned my youth And glorified so many happy years. A PAR TING. I4I Yet how much more I thank you that you tore At length the veil your hand -had woven away, Which hid my idol was a thing of clay, And false the altar I had knelt before. I thank you that you taught me the stern truth, (None other could have told and I believed,) That vain had been my life, and I deceived, And wasted allithe purpose of my youth. I thank you that your hand dashed down the shrine, Wherein my idol worship I had paid; Else had I never known a soul was made To serve and worship only the Divine. I thank you that the heart I cast away On such as you, though broken, bruised, and crushed, Now that its fiery throbbing is all hushed, Upon a worthier altar I can lay. I thank you for the lesson that such love Is a perverting of God's royal right, That it is made but for the Infinite, And all too great to live except above. I thank you for a terrible awaking, And if reproach seemed hidden in my pain, And sorrow seemed to cry on your disdain, Know that my blessing lay in your forsaking. Farewell for ever now: —in peace we part; And should an idle vision of my tears Arise before your soul in after years, Remember that I thank you from my heart! 142 THE G OLDEN GATE. THE GOLDEN GATE. TM shadows gather thickly round, and up the misty stair they climb, The cloudy stair that upward leads to where the closed portals shine, Round which the kneeling spirits wait the opening of the Golden Gate. And some with eager longing go, still pressing forward, hand in hand, And some, with weary step and slow, look back where their Beloved stand: Yet up the misty stair they climb, led onward by the Angel Time. As unseen hands roll back the doors, the light that floods the very air Is but the shadow from within, of the great glory hidden there: And morn and eve, and soon and late, the shadows pass within the gate. As one by one they enter in, and the stern portals close once more, The halo seems to linger round those kneeling closest to the door: The joy that lightened from that place shines still upon the watcher's face. The faint low echo that we hear of far-off music seems to fill PHANTOMS. 143 The silent air with love and fear, and the world's clamors all grow still, Until the portals close again, and leave us toiling on in pain. Complain not that the way is long, - what road is weary that leads there? But let the Angel take thy hand, and lead thee up the misty stair, And then with beating heart await the opening of the Golden Gate. PHANTOMS. ACK, ye Phantoms of the Past; In your dreary caves remain: What have I to do with memories Of a long-forgotten pain? For my Present is all peaceful, And my Future nobly planned: Long ago Time's mighty billows Swept your footsteps from the sand. Back into your caves; nor haunt me With your voices full of woe; I have buried grief and sorrow In the depths of Long-ago. See the glorious clouds of morning Roll away, and clear and bright x 44 PHA1NTOlf'S. Shine the rays of cloudless daylight: — Wherefore will ye moan of night? Never shall my heart bhe burthened With its ancient woe and fears; I can'drive them from my presence, I can check these foolish tears. Back, ye Phantoms; leave, 0 leave me, To a new and happy lot; Speak no more of things departed; Leave me - for I know ye not. Can it be that'mid my gladness I must ever hear you wail, Of the grief that wrung my spirit, And that made my cheek so pale? Joy is mine; but your sad voices Murmur ever in mine ear: Vain is all the Future's promise, While the dreary Past is here. Vain, 0 worse than vain, the Visions That my heart, my life, would fill, If the Past's relentless phantoms Call upon me still! THA NKF ULNE~SS. 145 THANKFULNESS. /~,io1 Y God, I thank Thee who lhast made The Earth so bright; So full of splendor and of joy, Beauty and light; So many glorious things are here, Noble and right! I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made Joy to abound; So many gentle thoughts and deeds Circling us round, That in the darkest spot of Earth Some love is found. I thank Thee more that all our joy Is touched with pain; That shadows fall on brightest hours; That thorns, remain; So that Earth's bliss may be our guide, And not our chain. For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon Our weak heart clings, Hast given us joys, tender and true, Yet all with wings, So that we see, gleaming on high, Diviner things! I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept The best in store IO0 146 HOM 0E-SICKNESS. We have enough, yet not too much To long for more: A yearning for a deeper peace,. Not known before. I thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls, Though amply blest, Can never find, although they seek, A perfect rest - Nor ever shall, until they lean On Jesus' breast! HOME-SICKNESS. HERE I am, the halls are gilded, Stored with pictures bright and rare; Strains of deep melodious music Float upon the perfumed air:Nothing stirs the dreary silence Save the melancholy sea, Near the poor and humble cottage, Where I fain would be! WVhere I am, the sun is shining, And the purple windows glow, Till their rich armorial shadows Stain the marble floor below:Faded autumn leaves are trembling On the withered jasmine-tree, Creeping round the little casement, Where I fain would be! HOME-SICKNESS. 147 Where I am, the days are passing O'er a pathway strewn with flowers; Song and joy and starry pleasures Crown the happy, smiling hours:Slowly, heavily, and sadly, Time with weary wings must flee, Marked by pain, and toil, and sorrow, Where I fain would be! Where I am, the great and noble Tell me of renown and fame, And the red wine sparkles highest, To do honor to my name:Far away a place is vacant, By a humble hearth, for me, Dying embers dimly show it, Where I fain would be! Where I am are glorious dreamings, Science, genius, art divine; And the great minds whom all honor Interchange their thoughts with mine:A few simple hearts are waiting, Longing, wearying, for me, Far away where tears are falling, Where I fain would be! Where I am, all think me happy, For so well I play my part, None can guess, who smile around me, How far distant is my heart, - Far away, in a poor cottage, Listening to the dreary sea, Where the treasures of my life are, Where I fain would be! 148 TWISHES. WISHES. a LL the fluttering wishes ~/A —':~ Caged within thy heart Beat their wings against it, ~ i -Longing to depart, Till they shake their prison With their wounded cry; Open wide thy heart to-day, And let the captives fly. Let them first fly upward Through the starry air, Till you almost lose them, For their home is there; Then, with outspread pinions, Circling round and round, Wing their way wherever Want and woe are found. Where the weary stitcher Toils for daily bread; Where the loiely watcher Watches by her dead; Where, with thin, weak fingers, Toiling at the loom, Stand the little children, Blighted ere they bloom; - Where, by darkness blinded, *Groping for the light, With distorted conscience, Men do wrong for right; THE PEACE OF GOD. I49 Where, in the cold shadow, By smooth pleasure thrown, Human hearts by hundreds Harden into stone; - Where on dusty highways, With faint heart and slow Cursing the glad sunlight, Hungry outcasts go; Where all mirth is silenced, And the hearth is chill, For one place is empty, And one voice is still. Some hearts will be lighter While your captives roam For their tender singing, Then recall them home; When the sunny hours Into night depart, Softly they will nestle In a quiet heart. THE PEACE OF GOD. AmE ask for Peace, 0 Lord! Thy children ask Thy Peace; Not what the world calls rest, That toil and care should cease, That through bright sunny hours Calm Life should fleet away, 1o50 TIIE PEACE OF GGOD. And tranquil night should fade In smiling day; - It is not for such Peace that we would pray. We ask for Peace, 0 Lord! Yet not to stand secure, Girt round with iron Pride, Contented to endure: Crushing the gentle strings That human hearts should know, Untouched by others' joy Or others' woe; - Thou, 0 dear Lord, wilt never teach us so. We ask Thy Peace, 0 Lord! Through storm, and fear, and strife, To light and guide us on, Through a long, struggling life: While no success or gain Shall cheer the desperate fight, Or nerve, what the world calls, Our wasted might: — Yet pressing through the darkness to the light. It is Thine own, 0 Lord, Who toil while others sleep; Who sow with loving care What other hands shall reap: They lean on Thee entranced, In calm and perfect rest: Give us that Peace, 0 Lord, Divine and blest, Thou keepest for those hearts who love Thee best. LIFE IN DEATH, ETC..l LIFE IN DEATH AND DEATH IN LIFE. I. Mf% F the dread day that calls thee hence Through a red mist of fear should loom, (Closing in deadliest night and gloom Long' hours of aching, dumb suspense,) And leave me to my lonely doom, - I think, belovMd, I could see In thy dear eyes the loving light Glaze into vacancy and night, And still say, " God is good to me, And all that IIe decrees is right." That, watching thy slow struggling breath, And answering each imperfect sign, I still could pray thy prayer and mine, And tell thee, dear, though this was death, That God was love, and love divine. Could hold thee in my arms; and lay Upon my heart thy weary head, And meet thy last smile ere it fled; Then hear, as in a dream, one say, "Now all is over, - she is dead." Could smooth thy garments with fond care, And cross thy hands upon thy breast, And kiss thine eyelids down to rest, And yet say no word of despair, But, through my sobbing,,It is best." I5 LIFE IN DE2ATH Could stifle down the gnawing pain, And say, a" We still divide our life, She has the rest, and I thile strife, And mine the loss, and hers the gain: My ill with bliss for her is rife." Then turn, and the old duties takeAlone now- yet with earnest will Gathering sweet, sacred traces still To help me on, and, for thy sake, My heart and life and soul to fill. I think I could check vain, weak tcars, And toil, - although the world's great space Held nothing but one vacant place, And see the dark and weary years Lit only by a vanished grace. And sometimes, when the day was o'er, Call up the tender past again: Its painful joy, its happy pain, And live it over yet once more, And say, "But few more years remain." And then, when I had striven my best, And all around would smiling say,;" See how Time makes all grief decay," Would lie down thankfully to rest, And seek thee in eternal day. II. But if the day should ever riseIt could not and it cannot be — Yet, if the sun should ever see, AND DEATH 1N LIFE. 153 Looking upon us from his skies, A day that took thy heart from me; If loving thee still more and more, And still so willing to be blind, I should the bitter knowledge find, That Time had eaten out the core Of love, and left the empty rind; If the poor lifeless words, at last, (The soul gone, that was once so sweet,) Should cease my eager heart to cheat, And crumble back into the past, And show the whole a vain deceit; If I should see thee turn away, And know that prayer, and time, and pain, Could no more thy lost love regain, Than bid the hours of dying day Gleam in their mid-day noon again; If I should loose thy hand, and know That henceforth we must dwell apart, Since I had seen thy love depart, And only count the hours flow By the dull throbbing of my heart; If I should gaze and'gaze in vain Into thine eyes so deep and clear, And read the truth of all my fear Half mixed with pity for my pain, And sorrow for the vanished year; If, not to grieve thee overmuch, I strove to counterfeit disdain, And weave me a new life again, 154 RECOLLECTIONS. WVhich thy life could not mar, or touch, And so smile down my bitter pain; — The ghost of my dead Past would rise And mock me, and I could not dare Look to a future of despair, Or even to the eternal skies, IFor I should still be lonely there. All Truth, all Honor, then would seem Vain clouds, which the first wind blew by; All Trust, a folly doomed to die; All Life, a useless, empty dream; All Love - since thine had failed- a lie. But see, thy tender smile has cast My fear away: this thought of mine Is treason to my Love and thine; For Love is Life, and Death at last Crowns it eternal and divine! RECOLLECTIONS. S strangers, you and I are here; We both as aliens stand Where once, in years gone by, I dwelt No stranger in the land. Then while you gaze on park and stream, Let me remain apart, And listen to the awakened sound Of voices in my heart. RECOLLECTIONS. 155 Here, where upon the velvet lawn The cedar spreads its shade, And by the flower-beds all around Bright roses bloom and fade, Shrill merry childish laughter rings, And baby voices sweet, And by me, on the path, I hear The tread of little feet. Down the dark avenue of limes, Whose perfume loads the air, Whose boughs are rustling overhead, (For the west wind is there,) I hear the sound of earnest talk, Warnings and counsels wise, And the quick questioning that brought Such gentle, calm replies. Still the light bridge hangs o'er the lake, Where broad-leaved lilies lie, And the cool water shows again The cloud that moves on high; — And one voice speaks, in tones I thought The past forever kept; But now I know, deep in my heart Its echoes only slept. I hear, within the shady porch, Once more, the measured sound Of the old ballads that were read, While we sat listening round; The starry passion-flower still Up the green trellis climbs; The tendrils waving seem to keep The cadence of the rhymes. 1 5 6 ILL USION. I might have striven, and striven in vain, Such visions to recall, Well known and yet forgotten; now I see, I hear, them all! The Present pales before the Past, Who comes with angel wings; As in a dream I stand, amidst Strange yet familiar things! Enough; so let us go, mine eyes Are blinded by their tears; A voice speaks to my soul to-day Of long-forgotten years. And yet the vision in my heart, In a few hours more, Will fade into the silent past, Silently as before. ILLUSION..HERE the golden corn is bending, And the singing reapers pass, Where the chestnut woods are sending Leafy showers upon the grass, The blue river onward flowing Mingles with its noisy strife, The murmur of the flowers growing, Anll the hum of insect life. I from that rich plain was gazing Towards the snowy mountains high, ILL USION. x57 Who their gleaming peaks were raising Up against the purple sky. And the glory of their shining, Bathed in clouds of rosy light, Set my weary spirit pining For a home so pure and bright! So I left the plain, and weary, Fainting, yet with hope sustained, Toiled through pathways long and dreary Till the mountain-top was gained. Lo! the height that I had taken, As so shinining from below, Was a desolate, forsaken Region of perpetual snow. I am faint, my feet are bleeding, All my feeble strength is worn, In the plain no soul is heeding, I am here alone, forlorn. Lights are shining, bells are tolling, In the busy vale below; Near me night's black clouds are rolling, Gathering o'er a waste of snow. So I watch the river winding Through the misty fading plain, Bitter are the tear-drops blinding, Bitter useless toil and pain, - Bitterest of all the finding That my dream was false and vain! 15 8 A VISION. A VISION. A ft~ILOOMY and black are the cypress-tress, Drearily waileth the chill night breeze. ~l~[A~ The long grass waveth, the tombs are white, And the black clouds flit o'er the chill rmoonlight. Silent is all save the dropping rain, When slowly there cometh a mourning train; The lone churchyard is dark and dim, And the mourners raise a funeral hymn' "Open, dark grave, and take her Though we have loved her so, Yet we must now forsake her, Love will no more awake her: (O bitter woe!) Open thine arms and take her To rest below! "Vain is our mournful weeping, Her gentle life is o'er; Only the worm is creeping, Where she will soon be sleeping Forevermore: Nor joy nor love is keeping For her in store i " Gloomy and black are the cypress-trees, And drearily wave in the chill night breeze. The dark clouds part and the heavens are blue, Where the trembling stars are shining through. A VISION. 159 Slowly across the gleaming sky, A crowd of white angels are passing by. Like a fleet of swans they float along, Or the silver notes of a dying song. Like a cloud of incense their pinions rise, Fading away up the purple skies. But hush! for the silent glory is stirred, By a strain such as earth has never heard: "Open, O Heaven! we bear her, This gentle maiden mild, Earth's griefs we gladly spare her, From earthly joys we tear her, Still undefiled; And to thine arms we bear her, Thine own, thy child. " Open, O Heaven! no morrow Will see this joy o'ercast, No pain, no tears, no sorrow, Her gentle heart will borrow; Sad life is past; Shielded and safe from sorrow, At home at last." But the vision faded and all was still, On the purple valley and distant hill. No sound was there save the wailing breeze, The rain, and the rustling cypress-trees. x60 PICTURES IN THIE FIRE. PICTURES IN THE FIRE. HAT is it you ask me, darling? All my stories, child, you know; I have no strange dreams to tell you, Pictures I have none to show. Tell you glorious scenes of travel? Nay, my child, that cannot be, I have seen no foreign countries, Marvels none on land or sea. Yet strange sights in truth I witness, And I gaze until'I tire; Wondrous pictures, changing ever, As I look into the fire. There, last night, I saw a cavern, Black as pitch; within it lay, Coiled in many folds, a dragon, Glaring as if turned at bay. And a knight in dismal armor On a winged eagle came, To do battle with this dragon; And his crest was all of flame. As I gazed the dragon.faded, And, instead, sat Pluto crowned By a lake of burning fire; Spirits dark were crouching round. PICTURES 1N THIE FIRE. i6IThat was gone, and lo! before me, A cathedral vast and grim; I could almost hear the organ Peal along the arches dim. As I watched thle'recathed pillars, Groves of stately palms arose, And a group of swarthy Indians Stealing on some sleeping foes. Stay: a cataract glancing brightly Dashed and sparkled; and beside Lay a broken marble monster, Mlouth and eyes were staring wide. Then I saw a maiden wreathing Starry flowers in garlands sweet; Did she see the fiery serpent That was wrapped about her feet? That fell crashing all and vanished; -And I saw two armies close, - I could almost hear the clarions, And the shouting of the foes. They were gone; and lo! bright angels, On a barren mountain wild, Raised appealing arms to Heaven, Bearing up a little child. And I gazed, and gazed, and slowly Gathered in my eyes sad tears, And the fiery pictures bore me Back throngh distant dreams of years. II x62 THIE TSETTLERS. Once again I tasted sorrow, With past joy was once more gay, Till the shade had gathered round meAnd the fire had died away. THE SETTLERS. WO stranger youths in the Far West, MiMM k'q Beneath the ancient forest trees, c Pausing, amid their toil to rest, Spake of their home beyond the seas; Spake of the hearts that beat so warmly, Of the hearts they loved so well, In their chilly Northern country. W' WVould," they cried, " some voice could tell Where they are, our own beloved ones!" They looked up to the evening sky Half hidden by the giant branches, But heard no angel-voice reply. All silent was the quiet evening; Silent were the ancient trees; They only heard the murmuring song - Of the summer breeze, That gently played among The acacia-trees. And did no warning spirit answer, Amid the silence all around: "Before the lowly village altar She thou lovest may be found, THE SETTLERS. i63 Thou, who trustest still so blindly, Know she stands a smiling bride! Forgetting thee, she turneth kindly To the stranger at her side. Yes, this day thou art forgotten, Forgotten, too, thy last farewell, All the vows that she has spoken, And thy heart has kept so well. Dream no more of a starry future, In thy home beyond the seas! " But he only heard the gentle sigh Of the summer breeze, So softly passing by The acacia-trees. And vainly, too, the other, looking Smiling, up through hopeful tears, Asked in his heart of hearts, " Where is she, She I love these many years? " He heard no echo calling faintly:,, Lo, she lieth cold and pale, And her smile so calm and saintly Heeds not grieving sob or wail,Heeds not the lilies strewn upon her, Pure as she is, and as white, Or the solemn chanting voices, Or the taper's ghastly light." But silent still was the ancient forest, Silent were the gloomy trees; He only heard the wailing sound Of the summer breeze, That sadly played around The acacia-trees! I64 HUSH! IHUSH! ffiZS CAN scarcely hear," she murmured, E,, For my heart beats loud and fast, But surely, in the far, far distance, I can hear a sound at last." "It is only the reapers singing, As they carry home their sheaves; And the evening breeze has risen, And rustles the dying leaves." " Listen! there are voices talking." Calmly still she strove to speak, Yet her voice grew faint and trembling, And the red flushed in her cheek. "It is only the children playing Below, now their work is done, And they laugh that their eyes are dazzled By the rays of the setting sun." Fainter grew her voice, and weaker, As with anxious eyes she cried, " Down the avenue of chestnnts, I can hear a horseman ride." " It was only the deer that were feeding In a herd on the clover-grass, They were startled, and fled to the thicket, As they saw the reapers pass." Now the night arose in silence, Birds lay in their leafy nest, And the deer couched in the forest, And the children were at rest: HOURS. i65 There was only a sound of weeping From watchers around a bed, But Rest to the weary spirit, Peace to the quiet Dead! HOURS. HEN the bright.stars came out last night, And the dew lay on the flowers, I had a vision of delight, - A dream of bygone hours. Those hours that came and fled so fast, Of pleasure or of pain, As phantoms rose from out the past Before my eyes again. With beating heart did I behold A train of joyous hours, Lit with the radiant light of old, And, smiling, crowned with flowers. And some were hours of childish sorrow, A mimicry of pain, That through their tears looked for a morrow They knew must smile again. Those hours of hope that longed for life, And wished their part begun, And ere the summons to the strife Dreamed that the field was won. X66 HOURS. I knew the echo of their voice, The starry crowns they wore; The vision made my soul rejoice WVith the old thrill of yore. I knew the perfume of their flowers; The glorious shining rays Around these happy, srriiling hours Were lit in bygone days. O stay, I cried, - bright visions, stay, And leave me not forlorn! But, smiling still, they passed away, Like shadows of the morn. One spirit still remained, and cried, "I Thy soul shall ne'er forget!" I-e standeth ever by my side, - The phantom called Regret. But still the spirits rose, and there Were weary hours of pain, And anxious hours of fear and care Bound by an iron chain. Dim shadows came of lonely hours, That shunned the light of day, And in the opening smile of flowers Saw only quick decay. Calm hours that sought the starry skies For heavenly lore were there; With folded hands and earnest eyes, I knew the hours of prayer. THE TWO INTERPRETERS. i67 Stern hours that darkened the sun's light, Heralds of coming woes,'With trailing wings, before my sight From the dim past arose. As each dark vision passed and spoke I prayed it to depart: At each some buried sorrow woke And stirred within my heart, - Until these hours of pain and care Lifted their tearful eyes, Spread their dark pinions in the air, And passed into the skies. THE TWO INTERPRETERS. HE clouds are fleeting by, father;?-~-] [ Look, in the shining west, The great white clouds sail onward [.~ j RUpon the sky's blue breast. Look at a snowy eagle, His wings are tinged with red, And a giant dolphin follows him, With a crown upon his head!" The father spake no word, but watched The drifting clouds roll by; He traced a misty vision too Upon the shining sky: i68 THE TWVO INTERPR~ETERS. A shadowy form, with well-known grace Of weary love and care, Above the smiling child she held, Shook down her floating hair. "The clouds are changing now, father, Mountains rise higher and higher! And see where red and purple ships Sail in a sea of fire! " The father pressed the little hand More closely in his own, And watched a cloud-dream in the sky That he could see alone: Bright angels carrying far away A white form, cold and dead, Two held the feet, and two bore up The flower-crowned, drooping head. " See, father, see! a glory floods The sky,. and all is bright, And clouds of every lihue and shade Burn in the golden light. And now, above an azure lake, Rise battlements and towers, Where knights and ladies climb the heights, All bearing purple flowers." The father looked, and, with a pang Of love and strange alarm, Drew close the little eager child Within his sheltering arm; From out the clouds the mother looks With wistful glance below, She seems to seek the treasure left On earth so long ago; CO-MFORT. I69 She holds her arms out to her child, His cradle-song she sings: The last rays of the sunset gleam Upon her outspread wings. Calm twilight veils the summer sky, The shining clouds are gone; In vain the merry laughing child Still gayly prattles on; In vain the bright stars, one by one, On the blue silence start, A dreary shadow rests to-night Upon the father's heart. COMFORT. AST thou o'er the clear heaven of thy soul ~ fast~~ % Seen tempests roll'? )Hast thou watched all the hopes thou wouldst have won Fade, one by one? Wait till the clouds ale past, then raise thine eyes To bluer skies. Hast thou gone sadly through a dreary night, And found no light, No guide, no star, to cheer thee through the plain, No friend, save pain? Wait, and thy soul shall see, when most forlorn, Rise a new morn. 170 COMFORT. Hast thou beneath another's stern control Bent thy sad soul, And wasted sacred hopes and precious tears Yet calm thy fears, For thou canst gain, even from the bitterest part, A stronger heart. Has Fate o'erwhelmed thee with some sudden blow? Let thy tears flow; But know when storms are past, the heavens appear More pure, more clear; And hope, when farthest from their shining rays, ~For brighter days. Hast thou found life a cheat, and worn in vain Its iron chain? Has thy soul befit beneath earth's heavy bond? Look thou beyond;. If life is bitter - there forever shine Hopes more divine. Art thou alone, and does thy soul complain It lives in vain? Not vainly does.he live who can endure. 0 be thou sure, That he who hopes and suffers here, can-earn A sure return. Hast thou found naught within thy troubled life Save inward strife q Hast thou found all she promised thee, Deceit, And Hope a cheat? Endure, and there shall dawn within thy breast Eternal rest! HOME AT LAST. 171 HOME AT LAST. HILD, do'not fear; We shall reach our home to-night, For the sky is clear, And the waters bright; And the breezes have scarcely strength To unfold that little cloud, That like a shroud Spreads out its fleecy length; Then have no fear, As we cleave our silver way Through the waters clear. Fear not, my child! Though the waves are white and high, And the storm blows wild Through the gloomy sky; On the edge of the western sea, See that line of golden light, Is the haven bright Where home is awaiting thee; Where, this peril past, We shall rest from our stormy voyage In peace at last. Be not afraid; But give me thy hand, and see I-low the waves have made A cradle for thee. Night is come, dear, and we shall rest; So turn from the angry skies, And close thine eyes, 72 UNEXPRESSED. And lay thy head on my breast: Child, do not weep; In the calm, cold, purple depths There we shall sleep. UNEXPRESSED. WELLS within the soul of every Artist - More than all his effort can express-; And he knows the best remains unuttered; Sighing at what we call his success. Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell us All the sacred mysteries of the skies: Vainly he may strive, the deepest beauty Cannot be unveiled to mortal eyes. And the more devoutly that he listens, And the holier message that is sent, Still the more his soul must struggle vainly, Bowed beneath a noble discontent. No great Thinker ever lived and taught you All the wonder that his soul received; No true Painter ever set on canvas All the glorious vision he conceived. No Musician ever held your spirit Charmed and bound in his melodious chains, But be sure he heard, and strove to render, Feeble echoes of celestial strains. BECA USE. 173 No real Poet ever wove in numbers All. his dream; but the diviner part, Hidden from all the world, spake to him only In the voiceless silence of his heart. So with Love: for Love and Art united Are twin mysteries; different, yet the same: Poor indeed would be then love of any Who could find its full and perfect name. Love may strive, but vain is the endeavor All its boundless riclies to unfold; Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers Ever in its deepest depths untold. Things of Time have voices: speak and perish. Art and Love speak; but their words must be Like sighings of illimitable forests, And waves of an unfathomable sea. BECAUSE. T i2 not because your heart is mine — mine onlyMine alone; It is not because you chose me, weak and lonely, For your own; Not because the earth is fairer, and the skies Spread above you Are more radiant for the shining of your eyes - That I love you! 174 BECA USE. It is not because the world's perplexsd meaning Grows more clear; And the Parapets of Heaven, with angels leaning, Seem more near; And Nature sings of praise with all her voices Since yours spoke, Since within my silent heart, that now rejoices, Love awoke! Nay, not even because your hand holds heart and life; At your will Soothing, hushing all its discord, making strife Calm and still; Teaching Trust to fold her wings, nor ever roam From her nest; Teaching Love that her securest, safest home Must be Rest. But because this human Love, though true and sweet - Yours and mine - Has been sent by Love more tender, more complete, More divine; That it leads our hearts to rest at last in Heaven, Far above you; Do I take you as a gift that God has given-And I love you! REST AT EVENING. I75 REST AT EVENING.,HEN the weariness of Life is ended, And the task of our long day is done, And the props, on which our hearts depended, All have failed or broken, one by one; Evening and our Sorrow's shadow blended, Telling us that peace is now begun. How far back will seem the sun's first dawning, And those early mists so cold and gray! Half forgotten even the toil of morning, And the heat and burthen of the day: Flowers that we were tending, and weeds scorning, All alike withered and cast away. Vain will seem the impatient heart, which waited Toils that gathered but too quickly round; And the childish joy, so soon elated At the path we thought none else had found; And the foolish ardor, soon abated By the storm which cast us to the ground. Vain those pauses on the road, each seeming As our final home and resting-place; And the leaving them, while tears were streaming Of eternal sorrow down our face; And the hands we held, fond folly dreaming That no future could their touch efface. All will then be faded:-night will borrow Stars of light to crown our perfect rest; 176 A RETROSPECT. And the dim vague memory of faint sorrow Just remain to show us all was best, Then melt into a divine to-morrow:0 how poor a day to be so blest! A IRETROSPECT. RIOM this fair point of present bliss, Where we together stand, Let me look back once more, and trace That long and desert land, Wherein till now was cast my lot, and I could live, and thou wert not. Strange that my heart could beat, and know Alternate joy and pain, That suns could roll fiom east to west, And clouds could pass in rain, And the slow hours without thee fleet, nor stay their noiseless silver feet. WVhat had I then? a Hope, that grew Each hour more bright and dear, The flush upon the eastern skies That showed the sun was near:Now night has faded far away, my sun has risen, and it is day. A dim Ideal of tender grace In my soul reigned supreme'; 1, A RELTR OSPECT. 177 Too noble and too sweet I thought To live, save in a dream; - Within thy heart to-day it lies, and looks on me from thy dear eyes. Some gentle spirit - Love I thought - Built many a shrine of pain; Though each false Idol fell to dust, The worship was not vain, But a faint, radiant shadow cast back from our Love upon the Past. And Grief, too, held her vigil there; With unrelenting sway Breaking my cloudy visions down, Throwing my flowers away:I owe to her fond care alone that I may now be all thine own. Fair Joy was there, - her fluttering wings At times she strove to raise; Watchifig through long and patient nights, Listening long eager days: I know now that her heart and mine were waiting, Love, to welcome thine. Thus I can read thy name throughout, And, now her task is done, Can see that even that faded Past Was thine, beloved one, And so rejoice my Life may be all consecrated, dear, to thee. 12 LEGENDS AND LYRICS. A BOOK OF VERSES. SECOND SERIES. - Oi A LEGEND OF PROVENCE. IHE lights extinguished; by the hearth I leant, Half weary with a listless discontent. The flickering giant-shadows, gathering near, Closed round me with a dim and silent fear. All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame, Glancing, lit up a Picture's ancient frame. Above the hearth it hung. Perhaps the night, My foolish tremors, or the gleaming light, Lent power to that Portrait dark and quaint - A Portrait such as Rembrandt loved to paint - The likeness of a Nun. I seemed to trace A world of sorrow in the patient face, In the thin hands folded across her breast: Its own and the room's shadow hid the rest. I gazed and dreamed, and the dull embers stirred, Till an old legend that I once had heard Came back to me; linked to the mystic gloom Of that dark Picture in the ghostly room. In the far south, where clnstering vines are hung; Where first the old chivalric lays were sung; i8z A LEGEND OF PROVENCE. Where earliest smiled that gracious child of France, Angel and knight and fairy, called Romance, I stood one day. The warm blue June was spread Upon the earth; blue summer overhead, Without a cloud to fleck its radiant glare, Without a breath to stir its sultry air. All still, all silent, save the sobbing rush Of rippling waves, that lapsed in silver hush Upon the beach; where, glittering towards the strand, The purple Mediterranean kissed the land. All still, all peaceful; when a convent chime Broke on the mid-day silence for a time, Then trembling into quiet, seemed to cease, In deeper silence and more utter peace. So as I turned to gaze, where gleaming white, Half hid by shadowy trees fiom passers' sight, The Convent lay, one who had dwelt for long In that fair home of ancient tale and song, Who knew the story of each cave and hill, And every haunting fancy lingering still WVithini the land, spake thus to me, and told The Convent's treasured Legend, quaint and old:Long years ago, a dense and flowering wood, Still more concealed where the white convent stood, Borne on its perfumed wings the title came: " Our Lady of the Hawthorns " is its name. Then did that bell, which still rings out to-day, Bid all the country rise, or eat, or pray. Before that convent shrine, the haughty knight Passed the lone vigil of his perilous fight; For humbler cottage strife or village brawl, The Abbess listened, prayed, and settled all. A LEGEND OF PRO VENCE. 183 Young hearts that came, weighed down by love or wrong, Left her kind presence comforted and strong. Each passing pilgrim, and each beggar's right Was food, and rest, and shelter for the night. But, more than this, the nuns could well impart The deepest mysteries of the healing art; Their store of herbs and simples was renowned, And held in wondering faith for miles around. Thus strife, love,.sorrow, good and evil fate, Found help and blessing at the convent gate. Of all the nuns, no heart was half so light, No eyelids veiling glances half as bright, No step that glided with such noiseless feet, No face that looked so tender or so sweet, No voice that rose in choir so pure, so clear, No heart to all the others half so dear, So surely touched by others' pain or woe, (Guessing the grief her young life could not know,) No soul in childlike faith so undefiled, As Sister Angela's, the " Convent Child." For thus they loved to call her. She had known No homle, no love, no kindred, save their own. An orphan, to their tender nursing given, Chilc, plaything, pupil, now the Bride of Heaven. And she it was who trimmed the lamp's red light That swung before the altar, day and night; Her hands it was, whose patient skill could trace The finest broidery, weave the costliest lace; But most of all, her first and dearest care, The office she would never miss or share, Was every day to weave fresh garlands sweet, To place before the shrine at Mary's feet. I84, A LEGEND OF PRO VENCE. Nature is bounteous in that region fair, For even Winter has her blossoms there. Thus Angela loved to count each feast the best, By telling with what flowers the shrine was dressed. In pomp supreme the countless Roses passed, Battalion on battalion thronging fast, Each with a different banner, flaming bright, Damask, or striped, or crimson, pink, or white, Until they bowed before a new-born queen, And the pure virgin Lily rose serene. Tlbough Angela always thought the Mother blest Must love the time of her own hawtholrns best, Each evening through the year, with equal care, She placed her flowers; then kneeling down in prayer, As their faint perfume rose before the shrine, So rose her thoughts, as pure and as divine. She knelt until the shades grew dim withlout, Till one by one tile altar lights shone out, Till one by one the Nuns, like shadosws dim, Gathered around to chant their vesper hymnn;:Her voice then led the imusic's wingMd flight, And " Ave, IMalis Stella" filled the night. But -w\herefore linger on those days of peace? When storms draw near, then quiet hours mlust cease.:War, cruel war, deficed the land, and caine So near the convent with its breath of flamle, That, seeking shelter, frightened peasants fled, Sobbing out tales of coming fear ancld dread. Till after a fierce skirmish, down the road, One nigoht came straggling' soldiers, with their load Of wounded, dying, comrades; and the band, I-alf pleading, yet as if they could command, A LEGEND OF PROVENCE. I85 Summoned the trembling Sisters, craved their care, Then rode away, and left the wounded there. But soon compassion bade all fear depart, And bidding every Sister do her part, Some prepare simnples, healing salves, or bands, The Abbess chose the more experienced hands To dress the wounds needing most skilfiul care; Yet even the youngest Novice took her share. To Angela, who had but ready will And tender pity, yet no special skill, Was given the charge of a young foreign knight, Whose wounds were painful, but whose danger slight, Day after day she watched beside his bed, And first in hushed repose the hours fled: His feverish moans alone the silence stirred, Or her soft voice, uttering some pious word. At last the fever left him; day by day The hours, no longer silent, passed away. What could she speak of? First, to still his plaints, She told him legends of the martyred Saints; Described the pangs, which, through God's plen, teous grace, Had gained their souls so high and bright a place. This pious artifice soon found success Or so she fancied - for he murmured less. So she described the glorious pomp sublime In which the chapel shone at Easter time, The banners, vestments, gold, and colols bright, Counted how many tapers gave their light; Then in minute detail went on to say, How the High Altar looked on Christmas-day: The kings and shepherds, all in green and red, And a bright star of jewels overhead. Then told the sign by which they all had seen 8 6 A LEGEND OF PR OVENCE. How even nature loved to greet her Queen, For, when Our Lady's last procession went Down the long garden, every head was bent, And, rosary in hand, each Sister prayed; As the long floating banners were displayed, They struck the hawthorn boughs, and showers and showers Of buds and blossoms strewed her way with flowers. The knight unwearied listened; till at last, lHe too described the glories of his past; Tourney, and joust, and pageant bright and fair, And all the lovely ladies who were there. But half incredulous she heard. Could thisThis be the world? this place of love and bliss! Where then was hid the strange and hideous charm, That never failed to bring the gazer harnm? She crossed herself, yet asked, and listened still, And still the knight described with all his skill The glorious world of joy, all joys above, Transfigured in the golden mist of love. Spread, spread your wings, ye angel guardians bright, And shield these dazzling phantoms from her sight! But no; days passed, matins and vespers rang, And still the quiet nuns toiled, prayed, and sang, And never guessed the fatal, coiling net Which every day drew near, and nearer yet, Around their darling; for she went and came About her duties, outwardly the same. The same? ah, no! even when she knelt to pray, Some charmnd dream kept all her heart away. So days went on, until the convent gate Opened one night. Who durst go forth so late? Across the moonlit grass, with stealthy tread, A LEGEND OF PRO VEN CE. 187 Two silent, shrouded figures passed and fled. And all was silent, save the moaning seas, That sobbed and pleaded, and a wailing breeze That sighed among the perfumed hawthorn-trees. What. need to tell that dream so bright and brief, Of joy uncheckered by a dread of grief? What need to tell how all such dreams must fade, Befbre the slow, foreboding, dreaded shade, That floated nearer, until pomp and pride, Pleasure and wealth, were summoned to her side, To bid, at least, the noisy hours forget, And clamor down the whispers of regret. Still Angela strove to dream, and strove in vain; Awakened once, she could not sleep again. She saw, each day and hour, more worthless grown The heart for which she cast away her own; And her soul learnt, through bitterest inward strife, The slight, fiail love for which she wrecked her life, The phantom for which all her hope was given, The cold bleak earth for which she bartered heaven! But all in vain; would even the tenderest heart Now stoop to take so poor an outcast's part? Years fled, and she grew reckless more and more, Until the humblest peasant closed his door, And where she passed, fair dames, in scorn and pride, Shluddered, and drew their rustling robes aside. At last a yearning seemed to fill her soul, A longing that was stronger than control: Once more, just once again, to see the place That knew her young and innocent; to retrace The long and weary southern path; to gaze Upon the haven of her childish days; I88 A LEGEND OF PR 0 VENCE. Once more beneath the convent roof to lie; Once mnore to look upon her home - and die! Weary and worn - her comrades, chill remorse And black despair, yet a strange silent force Within her heart, that drew her more and moreOnward she crawled, and begged from door to door. WVeighed down with weary days, her failing strength Grew less each hour, till one day's dawn at length, As first its rays flooded the world with light, Showed the broad waters, glittering blue and bright, And where, amid the leafy hawthorn wood, Just as of old the quiet cloister stood. Would any know her? Nay, no fear. I-Ier face Had lost all trace of youth, of joy, of grace, Of the pure, happy soul they used to know - The novice Angela - so long ago. She rang the convent bell. The well-known sound Smote on her heart, and bowed her to the ground. And she, who had not wept for long, dry years, Felt the strange rush of unaccustomed tears; Terror and anguish seemed to check her breath, And stop her heart. 0 God! could this be death? Crouching against the iron gate, she laid Her weary head against the bars, and prayed: But nearer footsteps direw then seemed to wait; And then she heard the opening of the grate, And saw the withered face, on which awoke Pity and sorrow, as the portress spoke, And asked the stranger's bidding: A" Take me in," She faltered, " Sister Monica, from sin, And sorrow, and despair, that will not cease; O, take me in, and let me die in peace! " With soothing words the Sister bade her wait, Until she brought the key to unbar the gate. A LEGEND OF PRO VENCE. 189 The beggar tried to thank her as she lay, And heard the echoing footsteps die away. But what soft voice was that which sounded near, And stirred strange trouble in her heart to hear? She raised her head; she saw — she seemed to know - A face that came from long, long years ago: Herself; yet not as when she fled away, The young and blooming novice, fair and gay, But a grave woman, gentle and serene: Tile outcast knew it, - zuzat she might hacve been. Bunt, as she gazed and gazed, a radiance bright Filled all the place with strange and sudden light; The nun was there no longer, but instead, A figure with a circle round its head, A ring of glory; and a face, so meek, So soft, so tender.... Angela strove to speak, And stretched her hands out, crying, i" Mary mild, Mother of mercy, help me - help your child " And Mary answered, i" From thy bitter past, Welcome, my child! 0, welcome home at last! I filled thy-place. Thy flight is known to none, For all thy daily duties I have done; Gathered thy flowers, and prayed, and sung, and slept; Didst thou not know, poor child, tlhy place zwats kept? Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy: God has none. And man's forgiveness may be true and sweet, But yet he stoops to give it. More complete Is Love that lays forgiveness at thy feet, And pleads with thee to raise it. Only Heaven Means crotused, not vanquished, when it says,' Forgi ven! "' Igo90 A LEGEND OF PIRO VENCE. Back hurried Sister Monica; but where Was the poor beg-gar she left lying there? Gone; and she searched in vain, and sought the place For that wan wolman, with the piteous face: But only Angela at the gateway stood, Laden with hawthorn blossoms fiom the wood. And never did a day pass by again, But the old portress, with a sigh of pain,'Would sorrow for her loitering: with a prayer That the poor beggar, in her wild despair, Might not have come to any ill; and when She ended, " God forgive her! " humbly then Did Angela bow her head, and say, "Amen! " How pitiful her heart was! all could trace Something that dimmed the brightness of her face After that day, which none had seen before; Not trouble - but a shadow - nothing more. Years passed away. Then, one dark day of dread Saw all the Sisters kneeling round a bed, Where Angela lay dying; every breath Struggling beneath the heavy hand of death. But suddenly a flush lit up her check, She raised her wan right hand, and strove to speak. In sorrowing love they listened; not a sound Or sigh disturbed the utter silence round. The very taper's flames were scarcely stirred, In such hushed awe the sisters knelt and heard. And through that silence Angela told her life: Her sin, her flight; the sorrow and the strife, And the return; and then clear, low, and calm, "( Praise God for me, my sisters "; and the psalm Rang up to heaven, far and clear and wide, Again, and yet again, then sank and died; A LEGEND OF PROVENCIE. 19I While her white face had such a smile of peace, They saw she never heard the music cease; And weeping sisters laid her in her tomb, Crowned with a wreath of perfumed hawthorn bloom. And thus the Legend ended. It may be Something is hidden in the mystery, Besides the lesson of God's pardon shown, Never enough believed, or asked, or known. Have we not all, amid life's petty strife, Some pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible? Did we not hear The flutter of its wings, and feel it near, And just within our reach? It was. And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret,And now live idle in a vague regret. But still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late: No star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been. Since Good, though only thought, has life and breath, God's life - can always be redeemed from death; And evil, in its nature, is decay, And any hour can blot it all away; The hopes that lost in some far distance seem, May be the truer life, and this the drcam. 192 ENVY. ENVY.. E was the first always: Fortune i7 Ad]-/~ Shone bright in his face.: tel I fought for years; with no effort He conquered the place: We ran; my feet were all bleeding, But he won the race. Spite of his many successes, Men loved him the same; My one pale ray of good fortune Met scoffing and blame. When we erred, they gave him pity, But me -only shame. My home was still in the shadow, His lay in the sun: I longed in vain:, what he asked for It straightway was done. Once I staked all my heart's treasure, We played - and he won. Yes; and just now I have seen him, Cold, smiling, and blest, Laid in his coffin. God help me! ~While he is at rest, I am cursed still to live: -even.Death loved him the best, OVER THE MOUNTAIN. i93 OVER THE MOUNTAIN. IKE dreary prison walls The stern, gray mountains rise, Until their topmost crags ~ ~_~ Touch the far gloomy skies: One steep and narrow path Winds up the mountain's crest, And from our valley leads Out to the golden West. I dwell here in content, Thankful for tranquil days; And yet my eyes grow dim, As still I gaze and gaze Upon that mountain pass, That leads - or so it seems - To some far happy land, Known in a world of dreams. And as I watch that path Over the distant hill, A foolish longing comes My heart and soul to fill, A painful, strange desire To break some weary bond; vague unuttered wish For what might lie beyond! In that far world unknown, Over that distant hill, May dwell the loved and lost, Lost — yet beloved still; I 3 194. BEYOND. I have a yearning hope,. Half longing, and half pain, That by that mountain pass They may return again. Space may keep friends apart, Death has a mighty thrall; There is another gulf Harder to cross than all; Yet watching that far road, My heart beats full and fast: If they should come once more, If they should come at last! See, down the mountain side The silver vapors creep; They hide the rocky cliffs, They hide the craggy steep, They hide the narrow path That comes across the hill: — O foolish longing, cease, O beating Heart, be still! BEYOND. E must not doubt, or fear. or dread, that love for life is only given, And that the calm and sainted dead will meet estranged and cold in heaven: - 0, Love were poor and vain indeed, based on so harsh and stern a creed. BEYOND.'95 True that this earth must pass away, with all the starry worlds of light, With all the glory of the day, and calmner tenderness of night; For in that radiant home can shine alone the immortal and divine. Earth's lower things-her pride, her fame, her science, learning, wealth, and powerSlow growths that through. long ages came, or fruits of some convulsive hour, Whose very memory must decay —Heaven is too pure for such as they. They are.complete: their work is done. So let them sleep in endless rest. Love's life is only here begun, nor is, nor can be, fully blest; It has no room to spread its wings, amid this crowd of meaner things. Just for. the very shadow thrown upon its sweetness here below, The cross that it must bear alone, and bloody baptism of woe, Crowned and completed through its pain, we know that it shall rise again. So if its flame burn pure and bright, here, where our air is dark and dense, And nothing in this world of night lives with a living so intense; When it shall reach its home at length - how bright its light! how strong its strength! 96 A WARNING. And while the vain weak loves of earth (for such base counterfeits abound) Shall perish with what gave them birth - their graves are green and fresh around, No funeral song shall need to rise for the true Love that never dies. If in my heart I now could fear that, risen again, we should not know What was our Life of Life when here, - the hearts we loved so much below, - I would arise this very day, and cast so poor a thing away. But Love is no such soulless clod: living, perfected it shall rise Transfigured in the light of God, and giving glory to the skies: And that which makes this life so sweet shall render Heaven's joy complete. A WARNING. 9 < LACE your hands in mine, dear, f IW ith their rose-leaf touch: If you heed my warning, It will spare you much. Ah! with just such smiling Unbelieving eyes, Years ago I heard it:You shall be more wise. A WARNING. 197 You have one great treasure, Joy for all your life; Do not let it perish In one reckless strife. Do not venture all, child, In one frail, weak heart; So, through any shipwreck, You may save a part. Where your soul is tempted Most to trust your fate, There, with double caution, Linger, fear, and wait. Measure all you give, still Counting what you take; Love for love: so placing Each an equal stake. Treasure love; though ready Still to live without. In your fondest trust, keep Just one thread of doubt. Build on no to-morrow; Love has but to-day: If the links seem slackening, Cut the bond away. Trust no prayer nor promise; Words are grains of sand: To keep your heart unbroken, Hold it in your hand. 198 IMAXIMUS. That your love may finish Calm as it begun, Learn this lesson better, Dear, than I have, done. Years hence; perhaps, this warning You shall give again, In just the self-same words, dear, And -just as much -in vain. MiAXIMUS. ANY, if God should make them kings, 7 Might not disgrace the throne He gave;' How few who could as well fulfil'~,;~'; 1 The holier office of a slave! I hold him great who, for Love's sake, Can give, with generous, earnest will,Yet he who takes for Love's sweet sake, I think I hold more generous still. I prize the instinct that can turn?From vain pretence with proud disdain; Yet more I prize a simple heart Paying credulity with pain. I bow before the noble mind That freely some great wrong forgives; Yet nobler is the one forgiven, Who bears that burden well, and lives. OP TI] rUS. I99 It may be hard to gain, and still To keep a lowly steadfast heart; Yet he who loses has to fill A harder and a truer part. Glorious it is to wear the crown Of a deserved and pure success; — He who knows how to fail has won A Crown whose lustre is not less. Great may he be who can command And rule with just and tender sway; Yet is diviner wisdom taught Better by hint who can obey, Blessed are those who die for God, And earn the Martyr's crown of light; Yet he who lives for God may be A greater Conqueror in His sight. OPTIMUS. HERE is a deep and subtle snare U]')~ WBNVhose sure temptation hardly fails, Which, just because it looks so -fair, Only a noble heart assails. So all the more we need be strong Against this false and seeming Right; Which none the less is deadly wrong, Because it glitters clothed in light. 0oo OP TIM US. When duties unfulfilled remain, Or noble works are left unplanned, Or when great deeds cry out in vain On coward heart and trembling hand,Then will a seeming Angel speak:" The hours are fleeting - great the need - If thou art strong and others weak, Thine be the effort and the deed. "Deaf are their ears who ought to hear; Idle their hands, and dull their soul; While sloth, or ignorance, or fear, Fetters them with a blind control. " Sort thou the tangled web aright; Take thou the toil, take thou the pain: For fear the hour begin its flig'ht, While Right and Duty plead in vain." And now it is I bid thee pause, Nor let this Tempter bend thy will: There are diviner, truer laws That teach a nobler lesson still. Learn that each duty makes its claim Upon one soul: not each on all. HIow, if God speaks thy brother's name, Dare thou make answer to the call l The greater peril in the strife, The less this evil should be done; For as in battle, so in life, Danger and honor still are one. A LOST CHORD. 201 Arouse him then: - this is thy part: Show him the claim; point out the need; And nerve his arm, and cheer his heart; Then stand aside, and say, " God speed!" Smooth thou his path ere it is trod; Burnish the arms that he must wield; And pray, with all thy strength, that God May crown him Victor of the field, And then, I think, thy soul shall feel A nobler thrill of true content, Than if presumptuous, eager zeal Had seized a crown for others meant. And even that very deed shall shine In mystic sense, divine and true, More wholly and more purely thine - Because it is another's too. A LOST CHORD. _ EATED one day at the Organ, I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys. lAdo not know what.I was playing, 01f what I was dreaming then; But I struck one chord of music, Like the sound of a great Amen. TOO LATE. It flooded the crimson twilight, Like the close of an Angel's Psalm, And it lay on my fevered spirit With a touch of infinite calm. It quieted pain and sorrow, Like love overcoming strife; It seemed the harmonious echo From our discordant life. It linked all perplexed meanings Into one perfect peace, And trembled away into silence As if it were loth to cease. I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That one lost chord divine, That came from the soul of the Organ, And entered into mine. It may be that Death's bright angel Will speak in that chord again, It may be that only in Heaven I shall hear that grand Amen TOO LATE. USH!I speak low; tread softly; Draw the sheet aside;Yes, she does look peaceful; With that smile she died. TOO LATE. 203 Yret stern want and sorrow Even now you trace On the wan, worn features Of the still white face. Restless, helpless, hopeless, Was her bitter part; — Now- how still the Violets Lie upon her Heart! She who toiled and labored For her daily bread; See the velvet hangings Of this stately bed. Yes, they did forgive her; Brought her home at last; Strove to cover over Their relentless past. Ah, they would have given Wealth, and home, and pride, To see her just look happy Once before she died! They strove hard to please her, But, when death is near, All you know is deadened, Hope, and joy, and fear. And besides, one sorrow Deeper still- one pain ~Was beyond them: healing Came to-day - in vain! 2o4 TOO LATE. If she had but lingered Just a few hours more; Or had this letter reached her Just one day before! I can almost pity Even him to-day; Though he let this anguish Eat her heart away. Yet she never blamed him: — One day you shall know How this sorrow happened; It was long ago. I have read the letter; Many a weary year, For one word she hungered, - There are thousands here. If she could but hear it, Could but understand; See, - I put the letter In her cold white hand. Even these words, so longed for, Do not stir her rest; WVell, I should not murmur, For God judges best. She needs no more pity, - But I mourn his fate, WVhen he hears his letter Came a day too late. TH~TiE REQ UTAL. 205 THE REQUITAL. OUD roared the Tempest,'Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel Passed' down the street, With trailing pinions, And weary feet. The moon was hidden; No stars were bright; So she could not shelter In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders Are rays of light. She beat her wings At each window-pane, And pleaded for shelter, But all in vain:", Listen," they said,', To the pelting rain!" She sobbed, as the laughter And mirth grew higher, " Give me rest and shelter Beside your fire, And I will give you Your heart's desire." The dreamer sat watching 1His embers gleam, THE REQMUITAL. While his heart was floating Down hope's bright stream;.. So he Aove her wailing Into his dream. The worker toiled on, For his time was brief; The mourner was nursing Her own pale grief: They heard not the promise That brought relief. But fiercer the Tempest Rose than before, When the Angel paused At a humble door, And asked for shelter And help once more. A weary woman, Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel And took her in. Took her in gently, And did her best To dry her pinions; And made her rest With tender pity Upon her breast. When the eastern morning Grew bright and red, RETURNED -" MISSING." 207 Up the first sunbeam The Angel fled; Having kissed the woman And left her- dead. RETURNED -,MISSING." (FIVE YEARS AFTER.) ta~ ~-~ gES, I was sad and anxious, [(~'~/1 But now, dear, I am -gay; I know that it is wisest ~: To put all hope away: — Thank God that I have done so, And can be calm to-day! For hope deferred - you know it - Once made my heart so sick: Now, I expect no longer; It is but the old trick Of hope, that makes me tremble, And makes my heart beat quick. All day I sit here calmly; Not as I did before, Watching for one whose footstep Comes never, never more.... Hush! was that some one passing, Who paused beside the door For years I hung on chances, Longing for just one word; 208 IRETURNED - " MISSING."' At last I feel it: -silence WVill never more be stirred... Tell me once more that rumor You fancied you had heard. Life has more things to dwell on Than just one useless pain, Useless and past forever; But noble things remain, And wait us all:... you too, dear, Do you think hope quite vain? All others have forgotten,'T is right I should forget, Nor live on a keen longing Which shadows forth regret:... Are not the letters coming X The sun is almost set. Now that my restless legion Of hopes and fears is fled, Reading is joy and comfort........ This very day I read, O., such a strange returning Of one whom all thought dead I Not that I dream or fancy, You know all that is past; Earth has no hope to give me, And yet - Time flies so fast That all but the impossible Might be brought back at last. IN THE WO OD. 209 IN THE WOOD. i N the wood where shadows are deepest From the branches overhead, Where the wild wood-strawberries cluster,'?'5"2:'4 And the softest moss is spread, I met to-day with a fairy, And I followed her where she led. Some magical words she uttered, I alone could understand, For the sky grew bluer and brighter; While there rose on either hand The cloudy walls of a palace, That was built in Fairy-land. And I stood in a strange enchantment; I had known it all before: In my heart of hearts was the magic Of days that will come no more, The magic of joy departed, That Time can never restore. That never, ah, never, never, Never again can be:Shall I tell you what powerful fairy Built up this palace for me? It was only a little white Violet I found at the root of a tree. I4 2o0 TW Or WORLDS. TWO WVORLDS.o OD'S world is bathed in beauty, God's world is steeped in light; It is the self-same glory That makes the day so bright, WVhlich thrills the earth with music, Or hangs the stars in night. Hid in earth's mines of silver, Floating on clouds above, - Ringing in Autumn's tempest, Murmured by every dove,One thought fills God's creation, His own great name of Love! In God's world Strength is lovely, And so is Beauty strong, And Light - God's glorious shadow — To both great gifts belong; And they all melt into sweetness, And fill the earth with Song. Above God's world bends Heaven, With day's kiss pure and bright, Or folds her still more fondly In the tender shade of night; And she casts back Heaven's sweetness, In fragrant love and light. God's world has one great echo; Whether calm blue mists are curled, TWO WORLDAS. 2II Or lingering dew-drops quiver, Or red storms are unfurled; The same deep love is throbbing Through the great heart of God's world. Man's world is black and blighted, Steeped through with self and sin; And should his feeble purpose Some feeble good begin, The work is marred and tainted By Leprosy within. Man's world is bleak and bitter; Wherever he has trod, I-e spoils the tender beauty That blossoms on the sod, And blasts the loving Heaven Of the great, good world of God. There Strength on coward weakness In cruel might will roll; Beauty and Joy are cankers That eat away the soul; And Love- 0 God, avenge it - The plague-spot of the whole. Man's world is Pain and Terror; I-le found it pure and fair, And wove in nets of sorrow The golden summer air. Black, hideous, cold, and dreary, Man's curse, not God's, is there. And yet God's world is speaking: Man will not hear it call; 212 A NEW MOTHER. But listens where the echoes Of his own discords fall, Then-clamnors back to Heaven That God has done it all. 0 God, man's heart is darkened, He will not understand! Show him Thy cloud and fire; And, with Thine own right hand, Then lead him through his desert, Back to Thy Holy Land! A NEW MOTHER. WAS with my lady when she died: I it was who guided her weakl hand For a blessing on each little head, -(~~ Laid her baby by her on the bed, Heard tile words they could not understand. And I drew them round my knee that night, Hushed their childish glee, and made them say They would keep her words with loving tears, They would not forget her dying fears Lest the thought of her should fade away. I, who guessed what her last dread had been, Made a promise to that still, cold face, That her children's hearts, at any cost, Should be with the mother they had lost, When a stranger came to take her place. A NEW MOTIHER. 213 And I knew so much! for I had lived With my lady since her childhood: known What her young and happy days had been, And the grief no other eyes had seen I had watched and sorrowed for alone. Ah! she once had such a happy smile! I had known how sorely she was tried: Six short years before, her eyes were bright As her little blue-eyed May's that night, When she stood by her dead mother's side. No, I will not say he was unkind; But she had been nsed to love and praise. He was somewhat grave, -perhaps, in truth, Could not weave her joyous, smiling youth Into all his stern and serious ways. She, who should have reigned a blooming flower, First in pride and honor, as in grace, - She, whose will had once ruled all around, Queen and darling of us all, - - she found Change indeed in that cold, stately place. Yet she would not blame him, even to me, Though she often sat and wept alone; But she could not hide it near her death, When she said with her last stlruggling breath, "L et my babies still remain my own! " I it was who drew the sheet aside, When he saw his dead wife's face. That test Seemed to strike right to his heart. He said, In a strange, low whisper, to the dead, " God knows, love, I did it for the best! " 2I14 A NEW MOTHER. And he wept- 0 yes, I will be just -- When I brought the children to him there, Wondclering sorrow in their baby eyes; And he soothed them with his fond replies, Bidding me give double love and care. Alh, I loved thein well for her dear sake: Little Arthur, -with his serious air; May, with all her mother's pretty ways, Blushing, and at any word of praise Shaking out her sunny golden hair. And the little one of all- poor child She had cost that dear and precious life. Once Sir Arthur spoke my lady's name, When the baby's gloomy christening came, And he called her "Olga -like my wife!" Save that time, he never spoke of her: lie grew graver, sterner, every day; And the children felt it, for they dropped Low their vo ces, and their laughter stopped,, While he stood and watched them at their play. No, he never naled their nmother's name. 13ut I told them of her: told them all She had been; so gentle, good, and bright; And I always took them every night Where her picture hung in the great hall. There she stood': white daisies in helr hand, And her red lips parted as to speak With a smile; the blue and sunnly air Seemed to stir her floating golden hair, And to bring a faint blush on her cheek. A NEW MO TIhER. 215 Well, so time passed on; a year was gone, And Sir Arthur had been much away. Then the news came! I shed many tears When I saw the truth of all my fears Rise before me on that bitter day. Any one but her I could have borne! But my lady loved her as her friend. Throughll their childhood and their early youth, IEow she used to count upon the truth Of this friendship that would never end! Older, graver than my lady was, Whose young, gentle heart on her relied, She would give advice, and praise, and blame, And my lady leant on Margaret's name, As her dearest comfort, help, andc guide. I had never liked her, and I think That my lady grew to doubt her too, Since her marriage; for she named her less, Never saw her, and I used to guess At some, secret wrong I never knew. That might be or not. But now, to hear She would come and reign here in her stead, With the pomp and splendor of a bride: Would no thought reproach her in her pride With the silent memory of the dead? So, the day came, and the bells rang out, And I laid the children's black aside; And I held each little trembling hand, As I strove to make them understand They must g-reet their father's new-made bride. 216 A NEW MOTHER. Ah, Sir Arthur might look grave and stern, And his lady's eyes might well grow dim, When the children shrank in fear away,Little Arthur hid his face, and May Would not raise her eyes, or speak to him. When Sir Arthur bade them greet their," mother," I was forced to chide, yet proud to hear How my little loving May replied, With her mother's pretty air of pride, - "Our dear mother has been dead a year! " Ah, the lady's tears might well fall fast, As she kissed them, and then turned away. She might strive to smile or to forget, But I think some shadow of regret Must have risen to blight her wedding-day. She had some strange touch of self-reproach; For she used to linger day by day, By the nursery door, or garden gate, WVith a sad, calm, wistful look, and wait Watching the three children at their play. But they always shrank away from her When she strove to comfort their alarms, And their grave, cold silence to beguile: Even little Olga's baby-smile Quivered into tears when in her arms. I could never chide theml: for I saw How their mother's memory grew more deep In their hearts; Each night I had to tell Stories of her whom I loved so well When a child, to send them off to sleep. A NEW MOTHER. zI7 But Sir Arthur - O, this was too hard!He, who had been always stern and sad In my lady's time, seemed to rejoice Each day more; and I could hear his voice Even, sounding younger and more glad. He might perhaps have blamed them, but his wife Never failed to take the children's part: She would stay him with her pleading tone, Saying she would strive, and strive alone, Till she gained each little wayward heart. And she strove indeed, and seemed to be Always waiting for their love, in vain; Yet, when May had most her mother's look, Then the lady's calm, cold accents shook With some memory of reproachful pain. Little Mav would never call her imother: So, one day, the lady, bending low, Kissed her golden curls, and softly said, " Sweet one, call me Margaret, instead,Your dear mother used to call me so." She was gentle, kind, and patient too, Yet in vain: the children held apart. Ah, their mother's gentle memory dwelt Near them, and her little orphans felt She had the first claim upon their heart. So three years passed; then the war broke out; And a rumor seemed to spread and rise; First we guessed what sorrow must befall, Then all doubt fled, for we read it all In the depths of her despairing eyes. tIg8 A NEW MOlOTHER. Yes-; Sir Arthur had been called away To that scene of slaughter, fear, and strife,Now he seemed to know with double pain The cold, bitter gulf that must remain To divide his children from his wife. Nearer came the day he was to sail, Deeper grew the coming woe and fear, When, one night, the children at my knee Knelt to say their eveningf prayer to me, I looked up and saw Sir Arthur near. There they knelt with folded hands, and said Low, soft words in stammerifig accents sweet; In the firelight shone their golden hair And white robes: my darlings looked so fair, With their little bare and rosy feet! There he waited till their low "Amen! "Stopped the rosy lips raised for " Good night!" - Drew them with a fond clasp, close and near, As he bade them stay with him, and hear Something.that would make his heart more light. Little Olga crept into his arms; Arthur leant upon his shoulder'; May lncelt beside him, with her earnest eves Lifted up in patient, calm surprise, - I can almost hear his words to-clday. "Years ago, my children, years ago, When your mother was a child, she came From her Northern home, and here she met Love for love, and comfort for regret, In one early friend, - you know her name. A NEFV MOTHER. 219 "And this friend - a few years older - gave Such fonid care, such love, that day by day The new home grew happy, joy complete, Studies easier, and play more sweet, While all childish sorrows passed away.'' And your mother - fragile, like my May - Leant on this deep love, - nor leant in vain. For this friend (strong, generous, noble heart!) Gave the sweet, and took the bitter part,Brought her all the joy, and kept the pain. "Years passed on, and then I saw them first: It was hard to say which was most fair, Your sweet mother's bright and blushing face, Or the graver Margaret's stately grace; Golden locks, or braided raven hair.;' Then it happened, by a strange, sad fate, One thought entered into each young soul: Joy for one - if for the other pain; Loss for. one - if for the other gain: One must lose, and one possess the whole. (' And so this - this - what they cared for -came And belonged to Margaret: was her own. But she laid the gift aside, to take Pain and sorrow for your mother's sake, And none knew it but herself alone. - Tlien she travelled far away, and none The strange mystery of her absence knew. Margaret's secret thought was never told: Even your mother thoughlt her changed and cold, And for many years I thought so too. 220o A NEW MO THER. " She was gone; and then your mother took That poor gift which Margaret laid aside: Flower, or toy, or trinket, matters not. What it was had better be forgot... It was just then she became my bride. " Now, I think May knows the hope I have. Arthur, darling, can you guess the rest? Even my little Olga understands Great gifts can be given by little hands, Since of all gifts Love is still the best. " Margaret is my dear and honored wife, And I hold her so. But she can claim From your hearts, dear ones, a loving debt I can neither pay, nor yet forget: You can give it in your mother's name. "Earth spoils even Love, and here a shade On the purest, noblest heart may fall: Now your mother dwells in perfect light, She will bless us, I believe, to-night, - She is happy now, and she knows all." Next day was farewell, - a day of tears; Yet Sir Arthur, as he rode away, And turned back to see his lady stand With the children clinging to her hand, Looked as if it were a happy day. Ah, they loved her soon! The little one Crept into her arms as to a nest; Arthur always with her now; and May Growing nearer to her every day:-Well, I loved my own dear lady best. GIVE PLACE. 22xI GIVE PLACE, ~c TARRY Crowns of Heaven A'__x~~ lSet in azure night! "l;~)~l Linger yet a little Ere you hide your light:- Nay; let Starlight fade away, Heralding-the day! *Snow-flakes. pure and spotless, Still, O, still remain, Binding dreary winter, In your silver chain: - - Nay; but melt at once and bring Radiant sunny Spring! Blossoms, gentle blossoms, Do not wither yet; Still for you the sun shines, Still the dews are wet: - -Nay; but fade and wither fast, Fruit must come at last! Joy, so true and tender, Dare you not abide? Will you spread your pinions, Must you leave our side? Nay; an Angel's shining grace Waits to fill your place! 222 MIHY WILL. MY WILL. INCE I have no lands or houses, Andll no hoarded golden store, ( What can I leave those who love me ] When they see my face no more? Do not smile; I am. not jesting, Though my words sound gay and light, Listen to me, dearest Alice, I will make my Will to-night. First for Mabel, - who will never Let the dust of future years Dim the thought of me, but keep it Brighter still: perhaps with tears. In whose eyes, whate'er I glance at, Touch, or praise, will always shine, Through a strange and sacred radiance, By Love's Charter, wholly mine; She will never lend to others Slenderest link of thought I claim, I will, therefore, to her keeping Leave my memory and my name. Bertha will do truer service To her kind than I have done, So I leave to her young spirit The long Work I have begun. Well! the threads are tangled, broken, And the colors do not blend, She will bend her earnest striving Both to finish and amend: IMY WILL. 223 And, when it is all completed, Strong with care and rich with skill, Just because my hands began it, She will love it better still. Ruth shall have my dearest token, The one link I dread to break, The one duty that I live for, She, when I am gone, will take. Sacred is the trust I leave her, Needing patience, prayer, and tears; I have striven to fulfil it, As she knows, these many years. Sometimes hopeless, faint, and weary, Yet a blessing shall remain With the task, and Ruth will prize it, For my many hours of pain. What must I leave you, my Alice? Nothing, Love, to do or bear, Nothing that can dim your blue eyes W~ith the slightest cloud of care. I will leiave my heart to love you, With the tender faith of old; Still to comfort, warm, and light you, Should your life grow dark or cold. No one else, my child, can claim it; Though you find old scars of pain, They were only wounds, my darling, There is not, I trust, one stain. Are my gifts indeed so worthless Now the slender sum is told? Well, I know not: years may bless them With a nobler price than gold. 224 KING AND SLAVE. Am I poor? ah no, most wealthy, Not in these poor gifts you take, But in the true hearts that tell me You will keep themn for my sake. KING AND SLAVE. F in my soul, dear, An omen should dwell, Bidding me pause, ere d%~7 I love thee too well; If the whole circle Of noble and wise, With stern forebodings, Between us should rise;I will tell them, dear, That Love reigns - a King, Wher6 storms cannot reach him, And words cannot sting;.He counts it dishonor His faith to recall; He trusts; - and forever He gives - and gives all! I will tell thee, dear, That Love is - a Slave, Who dreads thought of freedom, As life dreads the grave; And if doubt or peril Of change there may be, Such fear would but drive him Still nearer to thee! A CHANT. 225 A CHANT. "Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini." I. HO11 is the Angel that cometh Life! Let us not question what he brings, Peace or Strife; Under the shade of his mighty wings, One by one, Are his secrets told; One by one, Lit by the rays of each morning sun, Shall a new flower its petals unfold, With the mystery hid in its heart of gold. WVe will arise and go forth to greet him, Singly, gladly, with one accord;" Blessed is he that cometh In the name of the Lord " II. Who is the Angel that cometh? Joy! Look at his glittering rainbow wings,No alloy Lies in the radiant gifts he brings; Tender and sweet, He is come to-day, Tender and sweet: While chains of love on his silver feet Will hold him in lingering fond delay. But greet him quickly, he will not stay, I5 226 A CHANT. Soon he will leave us; but though for others All his brightest treasures are stored, - "Blessed is he that cometh In the name of the Lord!" III. Who is the Angel that cometh? Pain! Let us arise and go forth to greet him; Not in vain Is the summons come for us to meet him; He will stay, And darken our sun; He will stay A desolate night, a weary day. Since in that shadow our work is done, And in that shadow our crowns are won, Let us say still, while his bitter chalice Slowly into our hearts is poured, - " Blessed is he that cometh In the name of the Lord!" IV. Who is the Angel that cometh? Death! But do not shudder and do not fear; Hold your breath, For a kingly presence is drawing near. Cold and bright Is his flashing steel, Cold and bright The smile that comes like a starry light To calm the terror and grief we feel; He -comes to help and to save and heal: DREA.M-LIFE. 227 Then let us, baling our hearts and kneeling, Sing, while we wait this Angel's sword, - "Blessed is he that cometh In the name of the Lord!" DREAM-LIFE. ISTEN, friend, and I will tell you Why I sometimes seem so glad, Then, without a reason changing, Soon become so grave and sad. Half my life I live a beggar, Ragged, helpless, and alone; But the other half a monarch, With my courtiers round my throne. Half my life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new; One of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true. While I live and feast on gladness, Still I feel the thought remain, This must soon end, - nearer, nearer, Comes the life of grief and pain. While I live a wretched beggar, One bright hope my lot can cheer; Soon, soon, thou shalt have thy kingdom, Brighter hours are drawing near. 228 REST. So you see my life is twofold, Half a pleasure, half a grief; Thus all joy is somewhat tempered, And all sorrow finds relief. Which, you ask me, is the real life, Which the dream, - the joy, or woe? Hush, friend! it is little matter, And, indeed - I never know. REST. y PREAD, spread thy silver wings, O Dove! And seek for rest by land and sea, And bring the tidings back to me For thee and me and those I love. Look how my Dove soars far away; Go with her, heart of mine, I pray; Go where her fluttering silver pinions Follow the track of the crimson day. Is rest where cloudlets,slowly creep, And sobbing winds forget to grieve, And quiet waters gently heave,, As if they rocked the ship to sleep? Ah no! that southern vapor white Will bring a tempest ere the night, And thunder through the quiet heaven, Lashing the sea in its angry might. REST. 229 The battle-field lies still and cold, While stars that watch in silent light Gleam here and there on weapons bright, In weary sleepers' slackened hold; Nay, though they dream of no alarm, One bugle sound will stir that calm, And all the strength of two great nations, Eager for battle, will rise and arm. Pause where the Pilgrims' day is done, Where scrip and staff aside are laid, And, resting in the silent shade, They watch the slowly sinking sun. Ah no! that worn and weary band Most journey long before they stand, With bleeding feet, and hearts rejoicing, Kissing the dust of the Holy Land. Then find a soul who meets at last A noble prize but hard to gain, Or joy long pleaded for in vain, Now sweeter for a bitter past. Ah no! for Time can rob her yet, And even should cruel Time forget, Then Death will come, and, unrelenting, Brand her with sorrowful long regret. Seek farther, farther yet, 0 Dove i Beyond the ILand, beyond the Sea, There shall be rest for thee and me, For thee and me and those I love. I heard a promise gently fall, I heard a far-off Shepherd call The weary and the broken-hearted, Promising rest unto each and all. 230 THE TYRA NT AND THE CAPTIVE. It is not marred by outward strife, It is not lost in calm repose, It heedeth neither joys nor woes, Is not disturbed by death or life; Through, and beyond them, lies our Rest: Then cease, 0 Heart, thy longing quest! And thou, my Dove, with silver pinions Flutter again to thy quiet nest! THE TYRANT AND THE CAPTIVE. I T was midnight when I listened, And I heard two Voices speak; One was harsh, and stern, and cruel, And the other soft and weak: Yet I saw no Vision enter, And I heard no steps depart, Of this Tyrant and his Captive,. Fate it might be and a Heart. Thus the stern Voice spake in triumph: — A" I have shut your life away From the radiant world of nature, And the perfumed light of day. You, who loved to steep your spirit In the charm of Earth's delight, See no glory of the daytime, And no sweetness of the night." But the soft Voice answered calmnly: ", Nay, for when the March winds bring THE TYRANT AND THE CAPTIVE. 2 3 Just a whisper to my window, I can dream the rest of Spring; And to-day I saw a swallow Flitting past my prison bars, And my cell has just one corner Whence at night I see the stars." But its bitter taunt repeating, Cried the harsh Voice: - "Where are they, All the friends of former hours, Who forget your name to-day? All the links of love are shattered, Which you thought so strong before; And your very heart is lonely, And alone since loved no more." But the low Voice spoke still lower: —,i Nay, I know the golden chain Of my Love is purer, stronger, For the cruel fire of pain: They remember me no longer, But I, grieving here alone, Bind their souls to me for ever By the love within my own." But the Voice cried:.-. Once remember You devoted soul and mind To the welfare of your brethren, And the service of your kind. Now, what -sorrow can you comfort? You, who lie in helpless pain, WVith an impotent compassion Fretting out your life in vain." 233- TEET CAR VER'S LESSON. "Nay"; and then the gentle answer Rose more loud, and fuill, and clear: "' For the sake of all my brethren I thank God that I am here! Poor had been my Life's best efforts, Now I waste no thought or breath, - For the prayer of those who suffer Has the strength of Love and Death." THE CARVER'S LESSON. RUST me, no mere skill of subnhtle tracery, No mere practice of a dexterous hand, J~ M.'~; Will suffice, without a hidden spirit, That we may, or may not, understand. And those quaint old fragments that are left us Have their power in this, - the Carver brought Earnest care, and reverent patience, only Worthily to clothe some noble thought. Shut then in the petals of the flowers, Round the stems of all the lilies twine, Hide beneath each bird's or angel's pinion,'Some wise meaning or some thought divine. Place in stony hands that pray forever Tender.words of peace, and strive to wind Round the leafy scrolls and fretted niches Some true, loving message to your kind. THE CARVER'S LESSON. 233 Some will praise, some blame, and, soon forgetting, Come and go, nor even pause to gaze; Only now and then a passing stranger Just may loiter with a word of praise. But I think, when years have floated onward, And the stone is gray, and dim, and old, And the hand forgotten that has carved it, And the heart that dreamt it still and cold; There may come some weary soul, o'erladen With perplexed struggle in his brain, Or, it may be, fretted with life's turmoil, Or made sore with some perpetual pain. Then, I think those stony hafids will open, And the gentle lilies overflow, With tile blessing and the lovinurj token That you hid there many years ago. And the tendrils will unroll, and teach him How to. solve the problem of his pain; And the birds' and angels' wings shake downward On his heart a sweet and tender rain. While he marvels at his fancy, reading Meaning in that quaint and ancient scroll, Little guessing that the loving Carver Left a message for his weary soul. 234 THREE R 0SES. THREE ROSES. UST when the red June Roses blow She gave me one,- a year ago. A Rose whose crimson breath revealed The secret that its heart concealed, And whose half shy, half tender grace Blushed back upon the giver's face. A year ago - a year ago - To hope was not to know. Just when the red June Roses blow I plucked her one, — a month ago: Its half-blown crimson to eclipse, I laid it on her smiling lips; The balmy fragrance of the south Drew sweetness from her sweeter mouth. Swiftly do golden hours creep, - To hold is not to keep. The red June Roses now are past, This very day I broke the last, - And now its perfumed breath is hid, With her, beneath a coffin-lid; There will its petals fall apart, And wither on her icy heart:At three red'Roses' cost My world was gained and lost. MY PICTURE GALLERY. 235 MY PICTURE GALLERY. I.,[,,( ~~OU write and think of me, my friend, with pity; While you are basking in the light of Shut up within the heart of this great city, Too busy and too poor to leave my home. II. You think my life debarred all rest or pleasure, Chained all day to my ledger and my pen; Too sickly even to use my little leisure To bear me from the strife and din of men. III. Well, it is true; yet, now the days are longer, At sunset I can lay my writing down, And slowly crawl (summer has made me stronger) Just to the nearest outskirt of the town. IV. There a wide Common, blackened though and dreary With factory smoke, spreads outward to the West; I lie down on the parched-up grass, if weary, Or lean against a broken wall to rest. V. So might a King, turning to Arts' rich treasure, At evening, when the cares of state were done, 236 IMY PICTURE GALLERY. Enter his royal gallery, drinking pleasure Slowly from each great picture, one by one. VI. Towards the West I turn my weary spirit, And watch my pictures: one each night is mine. Earth and my soul, sick of day's toil, inherit A portion of that luminous peace divine. VII. There I have seen a sunset's crimson glory, Burn as if earth were one great Altar's blaze; Or, like the closing of a piteous story, Light up the misty world with dying rays. VIII. There I have seen the clouds, in pomp and splendor, Their gold and purple banners all unfurl; There I have watched colors, more faint and tender Than pure and delicate tints upon a pearl. IX. Skies strewn with roses fading, fading slowly, While one star trembling watched the daylight die; Or deep in gloom a sunset, hidden wholly, Save through gold rents torn in a violet sky. x. Or parted clouds, as if asunder riven By some great angel, and beyond a space Of far-off tranquil light; -the gates of Heaven Will lead as grandly to as calm a place. MY PICTURE GALLERY. 237 XI. Or stern dark walls of cloudy mountain ranges Hid all the wonders that we knew must be; While, far on high, some little white clouds' changes Revealed the glory they alone could see. XII. Or in wild wrath the affrighted clouds lay shattered, Like treasures of the lost Hesperides, All in a wealth of ruined splendor scattered, Save one strange light on distant silver seas. XIII. What land or time can claim the Master Painter, Whose art could teach him half such gorgeous dyes? Or skill so rare, but purer hues and fainter Melt every evening in my western skies. XIV. So there I wait, until the shade has lengthened, And night's blue misty curtain floated down; Then, with my heart calmed, and my spiril strengthened, I crawl once more back to the sultry town. XV. What Monarch, then, has nobler recreations Than mine i Or where the great and classic Land Whose wealth of Art delights the gathered nations That owns a Picture Gallery half as grand? 238 SENT TO HEA VEN. SENT TO HEAVEN. HIs AD a message to send her, W To her whom my soul loved best; But I had my task to finish, And she was gone home to rest. To rest in the far bright Heaven: 0, so far away from here, It was vain to speak to my darling, For I knew she could not hear! I had a message to send her, So tender, and true, and sweet, I longed for an Angel to bear it, And lay it down at her feet. I placed it, one summer evening, On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast; But it faded in golden splendor, And died in the crimson west. I gave it the Lark, next morning, And I watched it soar and soar; But its pinions grew faint and weary, And it fluttered to earth once more. To the heart of a Rose I told it; And the perfume, sweet and rare, Growing faint on the blue bright ether, Was lost in the balmy air. SENT TO HEAVEN. 239 I laid it upon a Censer, And I saw the incense rise; But its clouds of rolling silver Could not reach the far blue skies. I cried, in my passionate longing: - " Has the earth no Angel-friend Who will carry my Love the message That my heart desires to send? " Then I heard a strain of music, So mighty, so pure, so clear, That my very sorrow was silent, And my heart stood still to hear. And I felt, in my soul's deep yearning, At last the sure answer stir: - " The music will go up to Heaven, And carry my thought to her." It rose in harmonious rushing Of mingled voices and strings, And I tenderly laid my message On the Music's outspread wings. I heard it float farther and farther, In sound more perfect than speech; Farther than sight can follow, Farther than soul can reach. And I know that at last my message Has passed through the golden gate: So my heart is no longer restless, And I am content to wait. 240'NEVER AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN. EmrEVER again!" vowhearts when reunited, " Never again shall Love be cast aside; Forever now the shadow has departed; Nor bitter sorrow, veiled in scornful pride, Shall feign indifference, or affect disdain,Never, 0 Love, again, never again! " " Never again!" so sobs, in broken accents, A soul laid prostrate. at a holy shrine,"Once more, once more forgive, 0 Lord, and pardon, My wayward life shall bend to love divine; And never more shall sin its whiteness stain,Never, 0 God, again, never again! " Never again! " so speaketh one forsaken, In the blank desolate passion of despair," Never again shall the bright dream I cherished Delude my heart, for bitter truth is there, - The angel, Hope, shall still thy cruel pain Never again, my heart, never again! " " Never again! " so speaks the sudden silence, When round the hearth gathers each well-known face, But one is missing, and no future presence, However dear, can fill that vacant place; Forever shall that burning thought remain, — " Never, beloved, again! never again!" LISTEIINNG AVGELS. 241 "Never again!" so -but beyond our hearing - Ring out far voices fatling up the sky; Never again shall earthly care and sorrow Weigh down the wings that bear those souls on high; "Listen, 0 earth, and hear that glorious strain, - Never, never again! never again!" LISTENING ANGELS. LUE against the bluer heavens Stood the mountain, calm and still, 1 - Two white Angels, bending earthward, I~Pt~l Leant upon the hill. Listening leant those silent Angels, And I also longed to hear What sweet strain of earthly music Thus could charm their ear. I heard the sound of many trumpets In a warlike march draw nigh; Solemnly a mighty army Passed in order by. But the clang had ceased; the echoes Soon had faded from the hill; While the angels, calm and earnest, Leant and listened still. Then I heard a fainter clamor, -F'orge -and wheel were clashing near, i 6 z42 LISTIEL'ING ANGELS. And the Reapers ill the meadow Singing loud and clear. Whlen the sunset came in glory, And the toil of day was o'er, Still the Angels leant in silence, Listening as before. Then, as daylight slowly vanished, And the evening mists grew dim, Solemnly from distant voices Rose a vesper hymn. When the chant was done, and lingering Died upon the evening air, From the hill the radiant Angels Still were listening there. Silent came the gathering darkness, Bringing with it sleep and rest; Save a little bird was singing Near her leafy nest. Through the sounds of war and labor She had warbled all day long, While the Angels leant and listened Only to her song. But the starry night was coming; When she ceased her little lay ]From the mountain top the Angels Slowly passed away. G OLDEN DAYS. 243 GOLDEN DAYS. 7 OLDEN days where are they? Pilglrims east and west ] Cry; if we could find them We would' pause and rest: We would pause and rest a little Fronm our long and weary ways:Where are they, then, where are theyGolden days? Golden days - where are they? Ask of Childhood's years, Still untouched by sorrow, Still undimmed by tears: Ah, they seek a phantom Ffiture, Crowned with brighter, starry rays; - Where are they, then, where are they - Golden days? Golden days - where are they? Has Love learnt the spell That will charm them hither, Near our hearth to dwell 2 Insecure are all her treasures, Restless is her anxious gaze: — WVhere are they, then, where are they - Golden days? Golden days -where are they? Farther up the hill I canll hear the echo Faintly calling still: 244 PHILIP AND MILDRED. Faintly calling, faintly dying, In a far-off misty haze:Whllere are they, then, where are they - Golden days? PHILIP AND MILDRED. IBTNGERING fade the rays of daylight, [~.x|:. —,'~ _r~ and the listening air is chilly; Voice of bird andi forest nmutlnur, in_________ sect hum and quivering spray, Stir not in that quiet hour: through the valley, calm and stilly, All in hushed and loving silence watch the slow departing day. Till the last faint western cloudlet, faint and rosy, ceases blushing, And the blue grows deep and deeper where one trembling planet shines, And tlie day has gone forever -then, like some great ocean rushing, The sad night wind wails lamenting, sobbing through the moaning pines. Such, of all day's changing hours, is the fittest and the meetest For a farewell hour- and parting looks less bitter and more blest; Earth seems like a shrine for sorrow, Nature's mother voice is sweetest, And her hand seems laid in chiding on the unquiet throbbing breast. PHILIP AND MILDRED. 245 Words are lower, for the twilight seems rebuking sad repining, And wild murmur and rebellion, as all childish and in vain; Breaking through dark future hours clustering starry hopes seem shining, Then the calm and tender midnight folds her shadow round the pain. So they paced the shady lime-walk in that twilight dim and holy, Still the last farewell deferring, she could hear or he should say; Every word, weighed down by sorrow, fell more tenderly and slowlyThis, which now beheld their parting, should have been their wedding-day. Should have been: her dreams of childhood, never straying, never faltering, Still had needed Philip's image to make future life complete; Philip's young hopes of ambition, ever changing, ever altering, Needed Mildred's gentle presence even to make successes sweet. This day should have seen their marriage; the calm crowning and assurance Of two hearts, fulfilling rather, and not changing, either life: Now they must be rent asunder, and her heart must learn endurance, For he leaves their home, and enters on a world of work and strife. 246 PHILIP AND MILDRED. But her gentle spirit long had learnt, unquestioning; submitting, To revere his youthful longings, and to marvel at the fate That gave such a humble office, all unworthy and unfitting, To the genius of the village, who was born for something great. When the learned Traveller came there who had gained renown at college, WVhose abstruse research had won him even European fame, Questioned Philip, praised his genius, marvelled at his self-taught knowledge, Could she murmur if he called him up to London and to fame? Could she waver when he bade her take the burden of decision, Since his troth to her was plighted, and his life was now her own? Could she doom him to inaction? could she, when a new-born vision Rose in glory for his future, check it for her sake alone? So her little trembling fingers, that had toiled with such fond plearure, Paused, and laid aside, and folded the unfinished wedding gown; Faltering earnestly assurance, that she too could, in her measure, Prize for him the present honor, and the future's sure renown. PHILIP AND MILDRED. 247 Now they pace the shady lime-walk, now the last words must be spoken, Words of trust, for neither dreaded more than waiting and delay; Was not Love still called eternal - could a plighted vow be broken?See the crimson light of sunset fades in purple mist away. "Yes, mny Mildred," Philip told her, ",one calm thought of joy and blessing, Like a guardian spirit by me, through the world's tumultuous stir, Still will spread its wings above me, and now urging, now repressing, With my Mildred's voice will murmur thoughts of home, and love, and her. "It will charm my peaceful leisure, sanctify my daily toiling, With a right none else possesses, touching my heart's inmost string; And to keep its pure wings spotless I shall fly the world's touch, soiling Even in thought this Angel Guardian of my Mildred's Wedding Ring Ring. " Take it, dear; this little circlet is the first link, strong and holy, Of a life-long chain, and holds me from all other love apart; Till the day when you may wearl it as my wife - my own - mine wholly - Let me know it rests forever near the beating of your heart." 248- PHILIP AND MILDRED. Dawn of day saw Philip speeding on his road to the Great City, Thinking how the stars gazed downward just with Mildred's patient eyes; Dreams of work, and fame, and honor struggling with a tender pity, Till the loving Past receding saw the conquering Future rise. Daybreak still found Mildred watching, with the wonder of first sorrow, How the outward world unaltered shone the same this very day; How unpitying and relentless busy life met this new morrow, Earth, and sky, and man unheeding that her joy had passed away. Then the round of weary duties, cold and formal, came to meet her, With the life within departed that had given them each a soul; And her sick heart even slighted gentle words that came to greet her; For Grief spread its shadowy pinions, like a blight, upon the whole. Jar one chord, the harp is silent; move one stone, the arch is shattered; One small clarion-cry of sorrow' bids an armed host awake; Dne dark cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls are scattered; Think one thought, a soul may perish; say one word, a heart may break! PHILIP AND MILDRED. 249 Life went on, the two lives running side by. side; the outward seeming, And the truer and diviner hidden in the heart and brain; Dreams grow holy, put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming; But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain. Such was Mildred's life; her dreaming lay in some far-distant region, All the fairer, all the brighter, that its glories were but guessed; And the daily round of duties seemed an unreal, airy legion,Nothing true save Philip's letters and the ring upon her breast. Letters telling how he struggled, for some plan or vision aiming, And at last how he just grasped it as a fresh one spread its wings; How the honor or the learning, once the climax, now were claiming, Only more and more, becoming merely steps to higher things. Telling her of foreign countries: little store had she of learning, So her earnest, simple spirit answered as he touched the string; Day by day, to these bright fancies all her silent thoughts were turning, Seeing every radiant picture framed within her golden ring. 250 PHILIP AND MILDRED. 0 poor heart! love, if thou wiliest; but, thine own soul still possessing, Live thy life: not a reflection or a shadow of his own: Lean as fondly, as completely, as thou wiliest, - but confessing That thy strength is God's, and therefore can, if need be, stand alone. Little means were there around her to make farther, wider ranges, Where her loving gentle spirit could try any stronger flight; And she turned aside, halffearing that fresh thoughts were fickle changes, - That she nmust stay as he left her on that farewell summer night. Love should still be guide and leader, like a herald should have risen, Lighting up the long dark vistas, conquering all opposing fates; But new claims, new thoughts, new duties found her heart a silent prison, And found Love, with folded pinions, like a jailer by the gates. Yet why blame her? it had needed greater strength than she was given To have gone against the current that so calmly flowed along; Nothing fresh came near the village save the rain and dew -of heaven, And her nature was too passive, and her love perhaps too strong. PHILIP AND MILDRED. 251 The great world of thought, that rushes down the years, and onward sweeping Bears upon its mighty billows in its progress each and all, Flowed so far away, its murmur did not rouse them from their sleeping; Life and Time and Truth were spealdng, but they did not hear their call. Years flowed on; and every morning heard her prayer grow lower, deeper, As she called all blessings on him, and bade every ill depart, And each night when the cold moonlight shone upon that quiet sleeper, It would show her ring that glittered with each throbbing of her heart. Years passed on. Fame came for Philip in a full, o'erflowing measure; He was spoken of and honored through the breadth of many lands, And he wrote it all to Mildred, as if praise were only pleasure, As if fame were only honor, when he laid them in her hands. Mildred heard-it without wonder, as a sure result expected, For how could it fail, since merit and renown go side by side: And the neighbors who first fancield genius ought to be suspected, Might at last give up their caution, and could own him now with pride. PHILIP AND MILDRED. Years flowed on. These empty honors led to others they called better, He had saved some slender fortune, and might claim his bride at last: Mildred, grown so used to waiting, felt half startled by the letter That now made her future certain, and would consecrate her past. And he came: grown sterner, older- changed indeed: a grave reliance Had replaced his -eager manner, and the quick, short speech of old: He had gone forth with a spirit half of hope and half defiance; He returned with proud assurance half disdainful and half cold. Yet his old self seemed returning while he stood sometimes, and listened To her calm, soft voice, relating all the, thoughts of these long years; And if Mildred's heart was heavy, and at times her blue eyes glistened, Still in thought she would not whisper aught of sorrow or of fears. Autumn with its golden corn-fields, autumn with its storms and showers, Had been there to greet his coming with its forests gold and brown; And the last leaves still were falling, fading still the year's last flowers, When he left the quiet village, and took back his bride to town. PHILIP AND MILDRED. 253 Home,- the home that she had pictured many a time in twilight, dwelling On that tender, gentle fancy, folded round with loving care; Here was home,- the end, the haven; and what spirit voice seemed telling, That she only held the casket, with the gem no longer there? Sad it may be to be longing, with a patience faint and weary, For a hope deferred, - and sadder still to see it fade and fall; Yet to grasp the thing we long for, and, with sorrow sick and dreary, Then to find how it can fail us, is the saddest pain of all. What was wanting? He was gentle, kind, and generous still, deferring To her wishes always; nothing seemed to mar their tranquil life: There are skies so calm and leaden that we long for storm-winds stirring, There is peace so cold and bitter, that we almost welcome strife. Darker grew the clouds above her, and the slow conviction clearer, That he gave her home and pity, but that heart and soul and mind WVere beyond her now; he loved her, and in youth he had been near her, But he now had gone far onward, and had left her there behind. 254 PHILIP AND MllILDRED Yes, beyond her: yes, quick-hearted, her Love helped her in revealing It was worthless, while so mighty; was too weak, although so strong; There were courts she could not enter, depths she could not sound; yet feeling It was vain to strive or struggle, vainer still to mourn or long. He would give her words of kindness, he would talk of home, but seeming With an absent look, forgetting if he held or dropped her hand; And then turn with eager pleasure to his writing, reading, dreaming, Or to speak of things with others that she could not understand. He had paid, and paid most nobly, all he owed; no need of blaming; It had cost him something, may be, that no future could restore: In her' heart of hearts she knew it; Love and Sorrow, not complaining, Only suffered all the deeper, only loved him all the more. Sometimes then a stronger anguish, and more cruel, weighed upon her, That, through all those years of waiting, he had slowly learnt the truth; He had known himself mistaken, but that, bound to her in honor, He renounced his life, to pay her for the patience of her youth. PHILIP AND MILDRED. 255 But a star was slowly rising from that mist of grief, and brighter Grew her eyes, for each slow hour surer comfort seemed to bring; And she watched with strange sad smiling how her trembling hands grew slighter, And how thin her slender finger, and how large her wedding-ring. And the tears dropped slowly on it, as she kissed that golden token With a deeper love, it may be, than was in the far-off past; And remembering Philip's fancy, that so long ago was spoken, Thought her ring's bright angel guardian had stayed near her to the last. Grieving sorely, grieving truly, with a tender care and sorrow, Philip watched the slow, sure fading of his gentle, patient wife; Could he guess with what a yearning she was longing for the morrow, Could he guess the bitter knowledge that had wearied her of life? Now with violets strewn upon her, Mildred lies in peaceful sleeping; All unbound her long, bright tresses, and her throbbing heart at rest, And the cold, blue rays of moonlight, through the open casement creeping, Show the ring upon her finger, and her hands crossed on her breast. 256 BORRO WED THOUGHTS. Peace at last. Of peace eternal is her calm, sweet smile a token. Has some angel lingering near her let a radiant promise fall? Has he told her Heaven unites again the links that Earth has broken? For on Earth so much is needed, but ti Heaven Love is all! BORROWED THOUGHTS. I. FROM " LAVATER."!.~~~ —RUST him little who doth raise To one height both great and small, And sets the sacred crown of praise, l a e~,~ ~lSmiling, on the head of all. Trust him less who looks around To censure all with scornful eyes, And in everything has found Something that he dare despise. But for one who stands apart, Stirred by naught that can befall, With a cold, indifferent heart, - Trust him least and last of all. B RROR 0 ED TLJO UGHTS. 257 II. FROM " PHANTASTES." R HAVE a bitter Thought, a Snake That used to sting my life to pain. I strove to cast it far away, But every night and every day It crawled back to my heart again! It was in vain to live or strive, To think or sleep, to work or pray; At last I bade this thing accursed Gnaw at my heart, and do its worst, And so I let it have its way. Thus said I, "I shall never fall Into a false and dreaming peace, And then awake, with sudden start, To feel it biting at my heart, For now the pain can never cease." But I gained more; for I have found That such a snake's envenomed charm Must always, always find a part, Deep in the centre of my heart, Which it can never wound or harm. It is coiled round my heart to-day. It sleeps at times, this cruel snake, And while it sleeps it never stings: - Hush! let us talk of other things, Lest it should hear me and awake. 17 5 B OR2 0 rE'D THI O UGH TS. III. FROM "LOST ALICE." ES, dear, our Love is slain; In the cold grave for evermore it lies, Never to wake again, Or light our sorrow with its starry eyes: And so- regret is vain. One hour of pain and dread, We killed our Love, we took its life away With the false words we said; And so we watch it, since that cruel day, Silent, and cold, and dead. We should have seen it shine Long years beside us. Time and Death might try To touch that life divine, Whose strength could every other stroke defy Save only thine and mine. No longing can restore Our dead again. Vain are the tears we weep, And vainly we deplore Our buried Love: its grave lies dark and deep Between us evermore. BORRO WED THO UGHTS. 259 IV. FROM * X X, ITHIN the kingdom of my Soul E i I bid you enter, Love, to-day; Submit my life to your control, And give my Heart up to your sway. My Past, whose light and life is flown, Shall live through memory for you still; Take all my Present for your own, And mould my Future to your will. One only thought remains apart, And will forever so remain; There is one Chamber in my heart Where even you might knock in vain. A haunted Chamber: -long ago I closed it, and I cast the key Where deep and bitter waters flow, Into a vast and silent sea. Dear, it is haunted. All the rest Is yours; but I have shut that door ZForever now.'T is even best That I should enter it no more. No more. It is not well to stay With ghosts; their very look would scare Your joyous, loving smile away; - So never try to enter there. 260 LIGHT AND SIHADLE Check, if you love me, all regret That this one thought remains apart: - Now let us smile, dear, and forget The haunted Chamber in my Heart. LIGHT AND SHADE. HOU hast done well to kneel and say,!~~-~l "Since He who gave can take awvay, ]~;?~:4j And bid me suffer, I obey." And also well to tell thy heart, That good lies in the bitterest part, And thou wilt profit by her smart. But bitter hours come to all: When even truths like these will pall, Sick hearts for humbler comfort call. Then I would have thee strive to see That good and evil come to thee, As one of a great family. And as material life is planned, That even the loneliest one must stand Dependent on his brother's hand; So links more subtle and more fine Bind every other soul to thine In one great brotherhood divine. LIGHT AND SHADE. z6I Nor' with thy share of work be vexed; Though incomplete, and even perplext, It fits exactly to the next. What seems so dark to thy dim sight May be a shadow, seen aright, Making some brightness doubly bright. The flash that struck thy tree —no more To shelter thee —lets Heaven's blue floor Shine where it never shone before. Thy life that has been dropped aside Into Time's stream, may stir the tide, In rippled circles spreading wide. The cry wrung from thy spirit's pain May echo on some far-off plain, And guide a wanderer home again. Fail-yet rejoice; because no less The failure that makes thy distress May teach another full success. It may be that in, some great need Thy life's poor fragments are decreed To help build up a lofty deed. Thy heart should throb in vast content, Thus knowing that it was but meant As chord in one great instrument; That even the discord in thy soul May make completer music roll From'out the great harmonious whole. *2oZ LIGHT AND SHADE. -J may be, that when all is light, Deep set within that deep delight MWill be to know why all was right; To hear life's perfect music rise, And, while it floods the happy skies, Thy feeble voice to recognize. Then strive more gladly to fulfil Thy little part. This darkness still Is light to every loving will, And trust, as if already plain, How just thy share of loss and pain Is for another fuller gain. I dare not limit time or place Touched by thy life: nor dare I trace Its far vibrations into space. Onle only knows. Yet if the fret Of thy weak heart, in weak regret Needs a more tender comfort yet: Then thou mayst take thy loneliest fears, The bitterest drops of all thy tears, The dreariest hours of all thy years; And through thy anguish there outspread, May ask that God's great love would shed Blessings on one beloved head. And thus thy soul shall learn to draw Sweetness from out that loving law That sees no failure and no flaw, A CHANGELING. 263 Where all is good. And life is good, Were the one lesson understood Of its most sacred brotherhood. A CHANGELING. 1~ ] LITTLE changeling spirit Crept to my arms one day: I had no heart or courage To drive the child away. So all day long I soothed her, And hushed her on my breast; And all night long her wailing WVould never let me rest. I dug a grave to hold her, A grave both dark and deep; I covered her with violets, And laid her there to sleep. I used to go and watch there, Both night and morning too: — It was my tears, I fancy, That kept the violets blue. I took her up: and once more I felt the clinging hold, And heard the ceaseless wailing That wearied me of old. 264 DIS CO iRA GiC D. I wandered, and I wandered, With my burden on my breast, Till I saw a church-door open, And entered in to rest. In the dim, dying daylight, Set in a flowery shrine, I saw the Virgin Mother Holding her Child divine. I knelt down there in silence, And on the altar-stone I laid my wailing burden, And came away - alone. And now that little spirit, That sobbed so all day long, Is grown a shining angel, With wings both wide and strong. She watches me from Heaven With loving, tender care, And one day she has promised That I shall find her there. DISCOURAGED. lHERE the little babbling streamlet First springs forth to light, Trickling through soft velvet mosses, t Almost hid from sight; Vowed I with delight, DIS CO URA GED. 265, River, I will follow thee, Through thy wanderings to the Sea! " Gleaming'mid the purple heather, Downward then it sped, Glancing through the mountain gorges, Like a silver thread, As it quicker fled, Louder music in its flow, Dashing to the vale below. Then its voice grew lower, gentler, And its pace less fleet, Just as though it loved to linger Round the rushes' feet, As they stooped to meet Their clear images below, Broken by the ripples' flow. Purple Willow-herb bent over To her shadow fair; Meadow-sweet, in feathery clusters, Perfumed all the air; Silver-weed was there, And in one calm, grassy spot, Starry, blue Forget-me-not. Tangled weeds, below the waters, Still seemed drawn away; Yet the current, floating onward, Was less strong than they; — Sunbeams watched their play, With a flickering light and shade, Through the screen the Alders made. z66 JDIS COURAGED. Broader grew the flowing River To its grassy brink; Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays, Cattle trooped to drink; The blue sky, I think, Was no bluer than that stream, Slipping onward, like a dream. Quicker, deeper then it hurried, Rushing fierce and free; But I said, "It should grow calmer Ere it meets the Sea, The wide purple Sea, Which I weary for in vain, Wasting all my toil and pain." But it rushed still quicker, fiercer, In its rocky bed, Hard and stony was the pathway To my tired tread; " I despair," I said, "Of that wide and glorious Sea That was promised unto me." So I turned aside, and wandered Through green meadows near, Far away, among the daisies, Far away, for fear Lest I still should hear The loud nmurmur of its song, As the River flowed along. Now I hear it not:- I loiter Gayly as before; IF THOU COULDST KNO W. z7 Yet I sometimes think, - and thinking Makes my heart so sore,Just a few steps more, And there might have shone for me, Blue and infinite, the Sea. IF THOU COULDST KNOW. STHINK if thou couldst know, 0 soul that will complain, What lies concealed below Our burden and our pain; How just our anguish brings Nearer those longed-for things We seek for now in vain, - I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain. I think if thou couldst see, With thy dim mortal sight, How meanings, dark to thee, Are shadows hiding light; Truth's efforts crossed and vexed, Life's purpose all perplexed, - If thou couldst see them right, I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright. And yet thou canst not know, And yet thou canst not see; Wisdom and sight are slow In poor humanity. 268 THE WVARJifJOR I'O IIS DEAD BRIDE. If thou couldst trust, poor soul, In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest: Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best. THE WARRIOR TO HIS DEAD BRIDE. T _,aiF in the fight my arm was strong 1 And forced my foes to yield, - If conquering and unhurt I came Back from the battle-field, - It is because thy prayers have been My safeguard and my shield. My comrades smile to see my arm Spare or protect a foe, They think thy gentle pleading voice Was silenced long ago; But pity and compassion, love, Were taught me first by woe. Thy heart, my own, still beats in Heaven With the same love divine That made thee stoop to such a soul, So hard, so stern as mine, - My eyes have learnt to weep, beloved, Since last they looked on thine. I hear thee murmur words of peace Through the dim midnight air, A LETTER. 269 And a calm falls from the angel stars And soothes my great despair, - The heavens themselves look brighter, love, Since thy sweet soul is there. And if my heart is once more calm, My step is once more free, It is because each hour I feel Thou prayest still for me; Because no fate or change can come Between my soul and thee. It is because my heart is stilled, Not broken by despair, Because I see the grave is bright, And death itself is fair: - I dread no more the wrath of Heaven,I have an angel there! A LETTER. EAR, I tried to write you such a letter As would tell you all my heart to-day. Written Love is poor; one word were l~~~] ~better; Easier, too, a thousand times, to say. I can tell you all: fears, doubts unheeding, While I can be near you, hold your hand, Looking right into your eyes, and reading Reassurance that you understand. 270 ~ A LETTER. Yet I wrote it through, then lingered, thinking Of its reaching you, - what hour, what day; Till I felt my heart and courage sinking With a strange, new, wondering dismay. "Will my letter fall," I wondered sadly, "On her mood like some discordant tone, Or be welcomed tenderly and gladly? Will she be with others, or alone? ", It may find her too absorbed to read it, Save with hurried glance and careless air: Sad and weary, she may scarcely heed it; Gay and happy, she may hardly care. "Shall I - dare I - risk the chances? " slowly Something —was it shyness, love, or pride?Chilled my heart, and checked my courage wholly; So I laid it wistfully aside. Then I leant against the casement, turning Tearful eyes towards the far-off west, Where the golden evening light was burning, Till my heart throbbed back again to rest. And I thought: "Love's soul is not in fetters, Neither space nor time keeps souls apart; Since I cannot - dare not - send my letters, Through the silence I will send my heart. " If, perhaps now, while my tears are falling, She is dreaming quietly alone, She will hear my Love's far echo calling, Feel my spirit drawing near her own. A COMFOR TER. 271 "She will hear, while twilight shades enfold her, All the gathered Love she knows so well, - Deepest Love my words have ever told her, Deeper still - all I could never tell. " Wondering at the strange, mysterious power That has touched her heart, then she will say:' Some one whom I love, this very hour, Thinks of me, and loves me, far away.' "If, as well may be, to-night has found her Full of otlier thoughts, with others by, Through the words and claims that gather round hez She will hear just one half-smothered sigh; " Or will marvel why, without her seeking, Suddenly the thought of me recurs; Or, while listening to another speaking, Fancy that my hand is holding hers." So I dreamed, and watched the stars' far splendor Glimmering on the azure darkness, start, - While the star of trust rose bright and tender, Through the twilight shadows of my heart. A COMFORTER. I. ILL she come to me, little Effie, Will she come in my arms to rest, And nestle her head on my shoulder, While the sun goes down in the west? 272 A COMFOR TER. II. "I and Effie will sit together, All alone, in this great arm-chair:Is it silly to mind it, darling, When Life is so hard to bear? III. " No one comforts me like my Effie, Just I think that she does not try, - Only looks with a wistful wonder Why grown people should ever cry; IV. W' Vhile her little soft arms close tighter Round my neck in their clinging hold:Well, I must not cry on your hair, dear, For my tears might tarnish the gold. v. "I am tired of trying to read, dear; It is worse to talk and seem gay: There are some kinds of sorrow, Effie, It is useless to thrust away. "Ah, advice may be wise, my darling, -But one always knows it before; And the reasoning down one's sorrow Seems to make one suffer the more. VII. " But my Effie won't reason, will she? Or endeavor to understand; A COMFO RTNER. 273 Only holds up her mouth to kiss me, As she strokes my face with her hand. VIII. 6( If you break your plaything yourself, dear, Don't you cry for it all the same? I don't think it is such a comfort, One has only one's self to blame. ix. ", People say things cannot be helped, dear, But then that is the reason why; For if things could Be helped or altered, One would never sit down to cry.: "They say, too, that tears are quite useless To undo, amend, or restore, - When I think how useless, my Effie, Then my tears only fall the more. XI. "' All to-day I struggled against it; But that does not make sorrow cease; And now, dear, it is such a comfort To be able to cry in peace. XII. Though wise people would call that folly, And remonstrate with grave surprise; We won't mind what they say, my Effie; - We never professed to be wise. I8 t274 A COMFOR TER XIII. "But my comforter knows a lesson Wiser, truer than all the rest:That to help and to heal a sorrow, Love and silence are always best. XIV. "Well, who is my comforter- tell me? Effie smiles, but she will not speak: Or look up through the long curled lashes That are shading her rosy cheek. XV. Is she thinking of talking fishes, The blue-bird, or magical tree t Perhaps I am thinking, my darling, Of something that never can be. XVI. You long - don't you, dear? - for the Genii,, Who were slaves of lamps and of rings; And. I- I am sometimes afraid, dear, I want as impossible things. XVII, "But hark! there is Nurse calling Effie! It is bedtime, so run away; And I must go back, or the others Will be wondering why I stay. XVIII. ~' So good-night to my darling Effie; Keep happy, sweetheart, and grow wise:There's one kiss for her golden tresses, And two for her sleepy eyes."' UNSEEN. 275 UNSEEN. HEIRE are more things in Heaven and Earth than we Can dream of, or than Nature understands; We learn not through our poor philosophy What hidden chords are touched by unseen hands. The present hour repeats upon its strings Echoes of some vague dream we have forgot; Dim voices whisper half-remembered things, And when we pause to listen - answer not. Forebodings come: we know not how, or whence, Shadowing a nameless fear upon the soul, And stir within our hearts a subtler sense Than light may read, or wisdom may control. And who can tell what secret links of thought Bind heart to heart? Unspoken things are heard, As if within our deepest selves was brought The soul, perhaps, of some unuttered word. But, though a veil of shadow hangs between That hidden life and what we see and hear, Let us revere the power of the Unseen, And know a world of mystery is near. 276 A REMIIEMBRANCE OF AUTUMiVN. A REMEMBRANCE OF AUTUMN. Ai OTHING stirs the sunny silence, - Save the drowsy humming of the bees Round the rich ripe peaches on the wall, And the south wind sighing in the trees, And the dead leaves rustling as they fall: While the swallows, one by one, are gathering, All impatient to be on the wing, And to wander from us, seeking Their beloved Spring! Cloudless rise the azure heavens! Only vaporous wreaths of snowy *hite Nestle in the gray hill's rugged side; And the golden woods are bathed in light, Dying, if they must, with kingly pride: While the swallows, in the blue air wheeling, Circle now an eager, fluttering band, Ready to depart and leave us For a brighter land! But a voice is sounding sadly, Telling' of a glory that has been; Of a day that faded all too fast: - See afar through the blue air serene Where the swallows wing their way at last, And our hearts perchance as sadly wandering, Vainly seeking for a long-lost day, While we watch the far-off swallows, Flee with them away! THREE EVENINGS IN A LJZE. 277 THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. ES, it looked dark and dreary That long and narrow street: Only the sound of the rain, And the tramp of passing feet, The duller glow of the fire, And gathering mists of night To mark how slow and weary The long day's cheerless flight! II. Watching the sullen fire, Hearing the dreary rain, Drop after drop, run down On the darkening window-pane: Chill was the heart of Alice, Chill as that winter day, - PFor the star of her life had risen Only to fade away. III. The voice that had been so strong To bid the snare depart, The true and earnest will, The calm and steadfast heart, Were now weighed down by sorrow, Were quivering now with pain; The clear path now seemed clouded, And all her grief in vain. 278 THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. IV. Duty, Right, Truth, who promised To help and save their own, Seemed spreading wide their pinions To leave her there alone. So, turning from the Present To well-known days of yore, She called on them to strengthen And guard her soul once more. v. She thought how in her girlhood Her life was given away, The solemn promise spoken She kept so well to-day; How to her brother Herbert She had been help and guide, And how his artist nature On her calm strength relied. VI. How through life's fret and turmoil The passion and fire of art In him was soothed and quickened By her true sister heart; How future hopes had always Been for his sake alone; And now - what strange new feeling Possessed her as its own? VII. IIer home - each flower that breathed there, The wind's sigh, soft and low, 'HtREE EV ENINGS IN A LIFE. 279 Each trembling spray of ivy, The river's murmuring flow, The shadow of the forest, Sunset, or twilight dim, - Dear as they were, were dearer By leaving them for him. VIII. And each year as it found her In the dull, feverish town, Saw self still more forgotten, And selfish care kept down By the calm joy of evening That brought him to her side, To warn him with wise counsel, Or praise with tender pride. Ix. Her heart, her life, her future, Her genius, only meant Another thing to give him, And be therewith content. To-day, what words had stirred her, Her soul could not forget? What dream had filled her spirit With strange and wild regret? x. To leave him for another,Could it indeed be so? Could it have cost such anguish To bid this vision go? z80 ITHREE EVENNV GS GIN A LIFE. Was this her faith q Was Herbert The second in her heart? Did it need all this struggle To bid a dream depart I xI. And yet, within her spirit A far-off land was seen, A home, which might have held her, A love, which might have been, And Life- not the mere being Of daily ebb and flow, But Life itself had claimed her, And she had let it go! XII. Within her heart there echoed Again the well-known tone That promised this bright future, And asked her for her own: Then words of sorrow, broken By half-reproachful pain; And then a farewell, spoken In words of cold disdain. XIII. Where now was the stern purpose That nerved her soul so long? Whence came the words she uttered, So hard, so cold, so strong? What right had she to banish A hope that G6d had given? THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. 28 Why must she choose earth's portion, And turn aside from Heaven? XIV. To-day! Was it this morning? If this long, fearful strife Was but the work of hours, What would be years of life? Why did a cruel Heaven For such great suffering call? And why - 0 still more cruel! - Must her own words do all? xv. Did she repent? 0 Sorrow! Why do we linger still To take thy loving message, And do thy gentle will? See, her tears fall more slowly, The passionate murmurs cease, And back upon her spirit Flow strength, and love, and peace. XVI. The fire burns more brightly, The rain has passed away, Herbert will see no shadow Upon his home to-day: Only that Alice greets him With doubly tender care, Kissing a fonder blessing Down on his golden hair. 282 THREiE EVFENINN GS IX A LIFE. II. I. HE Studio is deserted, Palette and brush laid by, The sketch rests on the easel, The paint is scarcely dry; And Silence - who seems always Within her depths to bear The next sound that will utter - Now holds a dumb despair. II. So Alice feels it: listening With breathless, stony fear, Waiting the dreadful summons Each minute brings more near: When the young life, now ebbing, Shall fail, and.pass away Into that mighty shadow Who shrouds the house to-day. III. Butt why- when the sick-chamber Is on the upper floorWhy dares not Alice enter Within the close-shut door? If he - her all - her Brother, Lies dying in that gloom, What strange mysterious power Has sent her frnom the room? THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. 283 IV. It is not one week's anguish That can have changed her so; Joy has not died here lately, Struck down by one quick blow; But cruel months have needed Their long relentless chain, To teach that shrinking manner Of helpless, hopeless pain. V. The struggle was scarce over Last Christmas Eve had brought: The fibres still were quivering Of the one wounded thought, When Herbert- who, unconscious, Had guessed no inward strifeBade her, in pride and pleasure, Welcome his fair young wife. VI. Bade her rejoice, and smiling, Although his eyes were dim, Thanked God he thus could pay her The care she gave to him. This fresh bright life would bring her A new and joyous fate - O Alice, check the murmur That cries, " Too late! too late!" VII. Too late! Could she have known it A few short weeks before, 284 THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. That his life was completed, And needing hers no more, She might -- 0 sad repining! What " might have been" forget; " It was not" should suffice us To stifle vain regret. VIII. He needed her no longer, Each day it grew more plain; First with a startled wonder, Then with a wondering pain. Love: why, his wife best gave it; Comfort: durst Alice speak, Or counsel, when resentment Flushed on the young wife's cheek. IX. No more long talks by firelight Of childish times long past, And dreams of future greatness WVhich he must reach at last; Dreams, where her purer instinct With truth unerring told Where was the worthless gilding, And where refined gold. x. Slowly, but surely ever, Dora's poor jealous pride, Which she called love for Herbert, Drove Alice from his side; THREE.VENINGS INV A LIFE. 285 And, spite of nervous effort To share their altered life, She felt a check to Herbert, A burden to his wife. XI. This was the least; for Alice Feared, dreaded, knew at length How much his nature owed her Of truth, and power, and strength; And watched the daily failing Of all his nobler part: Low aims, weak purpose, telling In lower, weaker art. XII. And now, when he is dying, The last words she could hear Must not be hers, but given The bride of one short year. The last care is another's; The last prayer must not be The one they learnt together Beside their mother's knee. XIII. Summoned at last: she kisses The clay-cold stiffening hand; And, reading pleading efforts To make her understand, Answers, with solemn promise, In clear but trembling tone, To Dora's life henceforward She will devote her own. z86 THREE EVENINGS lNV A LI;FE, XIc. Now all is over. Alic6 Dares not remain to weep, But soothes the frightened Dora Into a sobbing sleep. The poor weak child will need her:.. 0, who can dare complain, When God sends a new Duty To comfort each new Pain! III. I. HE House is all deserted In the evening gloom, Only one figure passes Slowly from room to room; And, pausing at each doorway, Seems gathering up again Within her heart the relics Of bygone joy and pain. II. There is an earnest longing In those who onward gaze, Looking with weary patience Towards the coming days. There is a deeper longing, More sad, more strong, more keen: Those know it who look backward, And yearn for what has been. THREE E VENINGS IN A LIFE. 287 III, At every hearth she pauses, Touches eachll well-known chair; Gazes from every window, Lingers on every stair. What have these months brought Alice Now one more year is past? This Christmas Eve shall tell us, The third one and the last. IV. The wilful, wayward Dora, In those first weeks of grief, Could seek and find in Alice Strength, soothing, and relief. And Alice - last sad comfort True woman-heart can take - Had something still to suffer And bear for Herbert's sake. V. Spring, with her western breezes, From Indian islands bore To Alice news that Leonard Would seek his home once more. What was it, -joy, or sorrow? What were they, - hopes, or fears? That flushed her cheeks with crimson, And filled her eyes with tears? VI. He came. And who so kindly Could ask and hear her tell 288 THREE EVE'NINGS IN A LIFE. Herbert's last hours; for Leonard Had known and loved him well. Daily he came; and Alice, Poor weary heart, at length, Weighed down by others' weakness, Could lean upon his strength. VII. Yet not the voice of Leonard Could her true care beguile, That turned to watch, rejoicing, Dora's reviving smile. So, from that little household The worst gloom passed away, The one bright hour of evening Lit up the livelong day. VIII. Days passed. The golden summer In sudden heat bore down Its blue, bright, glowing sweetness Upon the scorching town. And sights and sounds of country Came in the warm soft tune Sung by the honeyed breezes Borne on the wings of June. Ix. One twilight hour, but earlier Than usual, Alice thought She knew the fresh sweet fragrance Of flowers that Leonard brought; THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. z89 Through opened doors and windows It stole up through the gloom, And with appealing sweetness Drew Alice from her room. x. Yes, he was there; and, pausing Just near the opened door, To check her heart's quick beating, She heard - and paused still more - His low voice - Dora's answersHis pleading - Yes, she knew The tone - the words - the accents; She once had heard them too. XI. "Would Alice blame her " Leonard's Low, tender answer came: "Alice was far too noble To think or dream of blame." "And was he sure he loved her?" A" Yes, with the one love given Once in a lifetime only, With one soul and one heaven!" XII. Then came a plaintive murmur,"(Dora had once been told That he and Alice - " " Dearest, Alice is far too cold To love; and I, my Dora, If once I fancied so, It was a brief delusion, And over - long ago.' I9 190 THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. XIII. Between the Past and Present, On that bleak moment's height, She stood. As some lost traveller, By a quick flash of light Seeing a gulf before him, With dizzy, sick despair, Reels backward, but to find it A deeper chasm there. XIV. The twilight grew still darker, The fragrant flowers more sweet, The stars shone out in heaven, The lamps gleamed down the street; And hours passed in dreaming Over their new-found fate, Ere they could think of wondering Why Alice was so late. XV. She came, and calmly listened, In vain they strove to trace If Herbert's memory shadowed In grief upon her face. No blame, no wonder showed there, No feeling could be told; Her voice was not less steady, Her manner not more cold. XVI. They could not hear the anguish That broke in words of pain THREE EVENINGS IN A LIFE. 25 Through the calm summer midnight, - ", My Herbert - mine again! " Yes, they have once been parted, But this day shall restore The long-lost one: she claims him: "M y Herbert - mine once more!" XVII. Now Christmas Eve returning Saw Alice stand beside The altar, greeting Dora, Again a smiling bride; And now the gloomy evening Sees Alice pale and worn, Leaving the house forever, To wander out forlorn. XVIII. Forlorn -nay, not so. Anguish Shall do its work at length; Her soul, passed through the fire, Shall gain still purer strength. Somewhere there waits for Alice An earnest, noble part; And meanwhile God is with her, — God, and her own true heart! 292 THE WIND. THE WIND. _HE wind went forth o'er land and sea, Loud and free; Foaming waves leapt up to meet it, Stately pines bowed down to greet it; While the wailing sea And the forest's murmured sigh Joined the cry Of the wind that swept o'er land and sea. The wind that blew upon the sea Fierce and free, Cast the bark upon the shore, Whence it sailed the night before Full of hope and glee; And the cry of pain and death Was but a breath, Through the wind that roared upon the sea. The wind was whispering on the lea Tenderly; But the white rose felt it pass, And the fragile stalks of grass Shook with fear to see All her trembling petals shed, As it fled So gently by, - the wind upon the lea. Blow, thou wind, upon the sea Fierce and free, EXPECTA TION. 293 And a gentler message send, Where frail flowers and grasses bend, On the sunny lea; For thy bidding still is one, Be it done In tenderness or wrath, on land or sea! EXPECTATION. HE King's three daughters stood on the terrace, The hanging terrace, so broad and green, Which keeps the sea from the marble Palace: There was Princess May, and Princess Alice, And the youngest Princess, Gwendoline. Sighed Princess May, ", Will it last much longer, Time throbs so slow and my Heart so quick; And 0 how long is the day in dying! Weary am I of waiting and sighing, For Hope deferred makes the spirit sick." But Princess Gwendoline smiled and kissed her:" Am I not sadder than you, my Sister? Expecting joy is a happy pain. The Future's fathomless mine of treasures, All countless hordes of possible pleasures, Might bring their store to my feet in vain." Sighed Princess Alice as night grew nearer:" So soon, so soon, is the daylight fled! 294 AN IDEAL. And 0 how fast comes the dark to-morrow, Who hides, perhaps, in her veil of sorrow The terrible hour I wait and dread! " But Princess Gwendoline kissed her, sighing, - "It is only Life that can fear dying; Possible loss means possible gain. Those who still dread are not quite forsaken; But not to fear, because all is taken, Is the loneliest depth of human pain." AN IDEAL. HILE the gray mists of early dawn Were lingering round the hill, And the dew was still upon the flowers, And the.earth lay calm and still, A winged Spirit came to me, Nolble, and radiant, and free..olding his blue and shining wings, He laid his hand on mine. X know not if I felt, or heard The mystic word divine, Which woke the trembling air to sighs, And shone from out his starry eyes. The word he spoke within my heart Stirred life unknown before, And cast a spell upon my soul To chain it evermore; Making the cold, dull earth look bright, And skies flame out in sapphire light. AN IDEAL. 295 When noon ruled from the heavens, and man Through busy day toiled on, My Spirit drooped his shining wings; His radiant smile was gone; His voice had ceased, his grace had flown, His hand grew cold within my own. Bitter, 0 bitter tears I wept, Yet still I held his hand, Hoping with vague unreasoning hope: I would not understand That this pale Spirit nevermore Could be what he had been before. Could it be so? My heart stood still. Yet he was by my side. I strove; but my despair was vain; Vain too was love and pride. Could he have changed to me so soon, My day was only at its noon. Now stars are rising one by one, Through the dim evening air; Near me a household Spirit waits, With tender loving care; He speaks and smiles, but never sings, Long since lie lost his shining wings. With thankful, true content, I know This is the better way; Is not a faithful spirit mine - Mine still - at close of day.... Yet will my foolish heart repine For that bright morning dream of mine. 296 O UR DEAD. OUR DEAD. OTHING is our own: we hold our pleasures Just a little while, ere they are fled: One by one life robs us of our treasures; Nothing is our own except our Dead. They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping, Safe forever, all they took away. Cruel life can never stir that sleeping, Cruel time can never seize that prey. Justice pales; truth fades; stars fall from heaven; Human are the great whom we revere: No true crown of honor can be given, Till we place it on a funeral bier. How the Children leave us: and no traces Linger of that smiling angel band; Gone, forever gone; and in their places Weary men and anxious women stand. Yet we have some little ones, still ours; They have kept the baby smile we know, Which we kissed one day, and hid with flowers, On their dead white faces, long ago. When our Joy is lost - and life will take it - Then no memory of the past remains; Save with some strange, cruel sting, to make it Bitterness beyond all present pains. A WOMAN'S ANSWER. 297 Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrow Still the radiant shadow, fond regret: We shall find, in some far, bright to-morrow, Joy that he has taken, living yet. Is Love ours, and do we dream we know it, Bound with all our heart-strings, all our own Any cold and cruel dawn may show it, Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. Only the dead Hearts forsake us never; Death's last kiss has been the mystic sign Consecrating Love our own forever, Crowning it eternal and divine. So when Fate would fain besiege our city, Dim our gold, or make our flowers fall, Death, the Angel, comes in love and pity, And, to save our treasures, claims them all. A WCMAN'S ANSWER.... rWILL not let you say a Woman's part Must be to give exclusive love alone; Dearest, although I love you so, my heart Answers a thousand claims besides your own. I love - what do I not love? earth and air Find space within my heart, and myriad things You would not deign to heed are:cherished there, And vibrate on its very inmost strings. 298 A WOMAN'S ANSWER. I love the Summer with her ebb and flow Of light, and warmth, and music, that have nurst Her tender buds to blossoms... and you know It was in summer that I saw you first. I love the Winter dearly too,.... but then I owe it so much; on a winter's day, Bleak, cold, and stormy, you returned again, When you had been those weary months away. I love the Stars like friends; so many nights I gazed at them, when you were far from me, Till I grew blind with tears.... those far-off lights Could watch you, whom I longed in vain to see. I love the Flowers; happy hours lie Shut up within their petals close and fast: You have forgotten, dear; but they and I Keep every fragment of the golden Past. I love, too, to be loved; all loving praise Seems like a crown upon my Life, - to make It better worth the giving, and to raise Still nearer to your own the heart you take. i love all good and noble souls;- I heard One speak of you but lately, and for days, Only to think of it, my soul was stirred In tender memory of such generous praise. I love all those who love you; all who owe Comfort to you: and I can find regret Even for those poorer hearts who once could know, And once could love you, and can now forget. THE FAITHFUL SOUL. 299 Well, is my heart so narrow, - I, who spare Love for all these? Do I not even hold My favorite books in special tender care, And prize them as a miser does his gold i The Poets that you used to read to me While summer twilights faded in the sky; But most of all I think Aurora Leigh, Because - because - do you remember why? Will you be jealous? Did you guess before I loved so many things I - Still you the best: - Dearest, remember that I love you more, O more a thousand times, than all the rest I THE STORY OF TIEE FAITHFUL SOUL. FOUNDED ON AN OLD FRENCH LEGEND. HE fettered Spirits linger {V ] MIn purgatorial pain, With penal fires effacing:~_~ ~1 V Their last faint earthly stain, Which Life's imperfect sorrow Had tried to cleanse in vain. Yet, on each feast of Mary Their sorrow finds release, For the Great Archangel Michael Comes down and bids it cease; And the name of these brief respites Is called {" Our Lady's Peace." 300 THE FAITHFUL SOUL. Yet once - so runs the Legend - When the Archangel came, And all these holy spirits Rejoiced at Mary's name, One voice alone was wailing, Still wailing on the same. And though a great Te Deum The happy echoes woke, This one discordant wailing Through the sweet voices broke: So when St. Michael questioned, Thus the poor spirit spoke:" I am not cold or thankless, Although I still complain; I prize Our Lady's blessing, Although it comes in vain To still my bitter anguish, Or quench my ceaseless pain. "On earth a heart that loved me Still lives and mourns me there, And the shadow of his anguish Is more than I can bear; All the torment that I suffer Is the thought of his despair. "' The evening of my bridal Death took my Life away; Not all Love's passionate pleading Could gain an hour's delay. And he I left has suffered A whole year since that day. THE FAITHFUL SOUL. 30I " If I could only see him, - If I could only go And speak one word of comfort And solace, - then I know He would endure with patience, And strive against his woe." Thus the Archangel answered:A" Your time of pain is brief, And soon the peace of Heaven Will give you full relief; Yet if his earthly comfort So much outweighs your grief, " Then through a special mercy I offer you this grace, - You may seek him who mourns you, And look upon his face, And speak to him of comfort For one short minute's space., But when that time is ended, Return here, and remain A thousand years in torment, A thousand years in pain: Thus dearly must you purchase The comfort he will gain." The Lime-trees' shade at evening Is spreading broad and wide; Beneath their fragrant arches, Pace slowly, side by side, In low and tender converse, A Bridegroom and his Bride. 302. THE FAITHFUL SO EL. The night is calm and stilly, No other sound is there Except their happy voices:What is that cold bleak air That passes through the Lime-trees, And stirs the Bridegroom's hair? While one low cry of anguish, Like the last dying wail Of some dumb, hunted creature, Is borne upon the gale:Why does the Bridegroom shudder And turn so deathly pale? Near Purgatory's entrance The radiant Angels wait; It was the great St. Michael Who closed that gloomy gate, When the poor wandering spirit Came back to meet her fate. " Pass on," thus spoke the Angel: "H Ieaven's joy is deep and vast; Pass on, pass on, poor Spirit, For Heaven is yours at last; In that one minute's anguish Your thousand years have passed." A CONTRAST. 303 A CONTRAST. AN you open that ebony Casket l Look, this is the key: but stay, Those are only a few old letters That I keep, - to burn some day. Yes, that Locket is quaint and ancient; But leave it, dear, with the ring, And give me the little Portrait Which hangs by a crimson string. I have never opened that Casket Since, many long years ago, It was sent me back in anger By one whom I used to know. But I want you to see the Portrait: I wonder if you can trace A look of that smiling creature Left now in my faded face. It was like me once; but remember The weary, relentless years, And Life, with its fierce brief tempests, And its long, long rain of tears. Is it strange to call it my Portrait 3 Nay, smile, dear, for well you may, To think of that radiant Vision And of what I am to-day. 304 A CONTRAST. With restless, yet confident longing, How those blue eyes seem to gaze Into deep and exhaustless treasures, All hid in the coming days. With that trust which leans on the Future, And counts on her promised store, Until she has taught us to tremble And hope, - but to trust no more. How that young, light heart would have pitied Me now- if her dreams had shown A quiet and weary woman With all her illusions flown. Yet I - who shall soon be resting, And have passed the hardest part - Can look back with a deeper pity On that young, unconscious heart. It is strange; but Life's currents drift us So surely and swiftly on, That we scarcely notice the changes, And how many things are gone: And forget, while to-day absorbs us, I-ow old mysteries are unsealed; How the old, old ties are loosened, And the old, old wounds are healed. And we say that our Life is fleeting Like a story that Time has told; But we fancy that we - we only - Are just what we were of old. THE BRIDE'S DREAM. 305 So now and then it is wisdom To gaze, as I do to-day, At a half-forgotten relic Of a Time that is passed away. The very look of that Portrait, The perfume that seems to cling Tb those fragile and faded letters, And the Locket, and the Ring, If they only stirred in my spirit Forgotten pleasure and pain, - Why, memory is often bitter, And almost always in vain; But the contrast of bygone hours Comes to rend a veil away, - And I marvel to see the stranger Who is living in me to-day. THE BRIDE'S DREAM. HE stars are gleaming; The maiden sleeps, - What is she dreaming? For see - she weeps. By her side is an Angel With folded wings; While the Maiden slumbers, The Angel sings: Hie sings of a Bridal, Of Love, of pain, Z0 306 THE BRIDE'S DREAI/L Of a heart to be given, - And all in vain; (See, her cheek is flushing, As if with pain;) He telleth of sorrow, Regrets and fears, And the few vain pleasures We buy with tears; And the bitter lesson We learn from years. The stars are gleaming Upon her brow: What is she dreaming So calmly now? By her side is the Angel With folded wings; She smiles in her slumber The while he sings. He sings of a Bridal, Of Love divine; Of a heart to be laid On a sacred shrine; Of a crown of glory, Where seraphs shine; Of the deep, long rapture The chosen know Who forsake for Heaven Vain joys below, Who desire no pleasure, And fear no woe. The Bells are ringing, The sun shines clear THE ANGEL'S BIDDING. 337 The Choir is singing, The guests are here. Before the High Altar Behold the Bride; And a mournful Angel Is by her side. She smiles, all content With her chosen lot, - (Is her last night's dreaming So soon forgot?) And oh, may the Angel Forsake her not! For on her small hand There glitters plain The first sad link Of a life-long chain;And she needs his guiding Through paths of pain. THE ANGEL'S BIDDING. OT a sound is heard in the Convent; The Vesper Chant is sung, The sick have all been tended, The poor nun's toils are ended Till the Matin bell has rung. All is still, save the Clock, that is ticking So loud in the frosty air, And the soft snow, falling as gently As an answer to a prayer. But an Angel whispers, " O Sister, You must rise from your bed to pray: 308 THE ANGEL'S BIDDING. In the silent, deserted chapel, You must kneel till the dawn of day; For, far on the desolate moorland, So dreary, and bleak, and white, There is one, all alone and helpless, In peril of death to-night. " No sound on the moorland to guide him, No star in the murky air; And he thinks of his home and his loved ones With the tenderness of despair; He has wandered for hours in the snow-drift, And he strives to stand in vain, And so lies down to dream of his children, And never to rise again. Then kneel in the silent chapel Till the dawn of to-morrow's sun, And ask of the Lord you worship For the life of that desolate one; And the smiling eyes of his children Will gladden his heart again, And the grateful tears of God's poor ones Will fall on your soul like rain! - "Yet, leave him alone to perish, And the grace of your God implore, With all the strength of your spirit, For one who needs it more. Far away, in the gleaming city, Amid perfume, and song, and light, A soul that Jesus has ransomed Is in peril of sin to-night. The Tempter is close beside him, And his danger is all forgot, SPRING. 309 And the far-off voices of childhood Call aloud, but he hears them not; He sayeth no prayer, and his motherHe thinks not of her to-day, And he will not look up to heaven, And his Angel is turning away. ", Then pray for a soul in peril, A soul for which Jesus died; Ask, by the cross that bore Him, And by her who stood beside; And the Angels of God will thank yAJc, And bend from their thrones of light, To tell you that heaven rejoices At the deed you have done to-night.' SPRING. A —RK! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise, To listen to the rain-drops falling. From the cloudy skies, To listen to Earth's weary voices, Louder every day, Bidding her no longer linger On her charmed way; But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun; By the first bright day of Summer It should all be done. She has yet to loose the fountain From its iron chain; 3Io SPRING. And to make the barren mountain Green and bright again; She must clear the snow that lingers Round the stalks away, And let the snowdrops' trembling whiteness See the light of day. She must watch, and warm, and cherish Every blade of green, Till the tender grass appearing From the earth is seen; She must bring the golden crocus From her hidden store; She must spread broad showers of daisies Each day more and more. In each hedgerow she must hasten Cowslips sweet to set; Primroses in rich profusion, With bright dew-drops wet, And under every leaf, in shadow Hide a violet! Every tree within the forest Must be decked anew; And the tender buds of promise Should be peeping through, Folded deep, and almost hidden, Leaf by leaf' beside, What will make the Summer's glory, And the Autumn's pride. She must weave the loveliest carpets, Checkered sun and shade,. Every wood must have such pathways, Laid in every glade; She -must hang laburnum branches On each arched bough; — E VENING HYMN. 3II And the white and purple lilac Should be waving now; She must breathe, and cold winds vanish At her breath away; And then load the air around her With the scent of May! Listen then, 0 Spring! nor linger On thy charm6d way; Have pity on thy prisoned flowers Wearying for the day. Listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies; Listen to the hours calling, Bidding thee arise. EVENING HYMN., HE shadows of the evening hours Fall from the darkening sky; Upon the fragrance ofv the flowers AdThe dews of evening lie: Before thy throne, 0 Lord of heaven, We kneel at close of day; Look on thy children fiom on high, And hear us while we pray. The sorrows of thy servants, Lord, O do not thou despise; -But let the incense of our prayers Before thy mercy rise; The brightness of the coming night Upon the darkness rolls: 3Iz TLHE INNER CHAlMfBER. With hopes of future glory chase The shadows on our souls. Slowly the rays of daylight fade; So fade within our heart The hopes in earthly love and joy, That one by one depart: Slowly the bright stars, one by one, Within the heavens shine; — Give us, 0 Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven, And trust in things divine. Let peace, 0 Lord, thy peace, 0 God, Upon our souls descend; From midnight fears and perils, thou Our trembling hearts defend; Give us a respite from our toil, Calm and subdue our woes; Through the long day we suffer, Lord, 0 give us now repose! THE INNER CHAMBER,,, N the outer Court I was singing, WVas singing the whole day long; From the inner chamber wvere ringing Echoes repeating my song. And I sang till it grew immortal; For that very song of mine, When re-echoed behind the Portal, Was filled with a life divine. THE INNER CHAMBER. 3 3 Was the Chamber a silver round Of arches, whose magical art Drew in coils of musical sound, And cast them back on my heart? Was there hidden within a lyre Which, as air breathed over its strings, Filled my song with a soul of fire, And sent back my words with wings? Was some seraph imprisoned there, Whose Voice made my song complete, And whose lingering, soft despair Made the echo so faint and sweet? Long I trembled and paused, - then parted The curtains with heavy fringe; And, half fearing, yet eager-hearted, Turned the door on its golden hinge. Now I sing in the court once more, I sing and I weep all day, As I kneel by the close-shut door, For I know what the echoes say.'Yet I sing not the song of old, Ere I knew whence the echo came, Ere I opened the door of gold; But the music sounds just the same. Then take warning, and turn away; Do not ask of that hidden thing, Do not guess what the echoes say, Or the meaning of what I sing. 314 HEAR TS. HEARTS. I. TRINKET made like a Heart, dear, Of red gold, bright and fine Was given to me for a keepsake, Given to me for mine. And another heart, warm and tender, As true as a heart could be; And every throb that stirred it Was always and all for me. Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land, I dropped my golden heart, dear, Dropped it out of my hand! It lies in the cold, blue waters, Fathoms and fathoms deep, The golden heart which I promised, Promised to prize and keep. Gazing at Life's bright visions, So false, and. fair, and new, I forgot the other heart, dear, Forgot it and lost it too! I might seek that heart forever, I might seek and seek in vain; — And for one short, careless hour, I pay with a life of pain HEARTS. 315 II. HE Heart?- Yes, I wore it As sign and as token Of a love that once gave it, A vow that was spoken; But a love, and a vow, and a heart Can be broken. The Love? - Life and Death Are crushed into a day, So what wonder that Love Should as soon pass away,What wonder I saw it Fade, fail, and decay? The Vow? - why what was it? It snapped like a thread; Who cares for the corpse When the spirit is fled? Then I said, "Let the Dead rise And bury its dead, "While the true, living future Grows pure, wise, and strong." So I cast the gold heart I had worn for so long In the Lake, and bound on it A Stone- and a Wrong! 316 TWO LOT 0 VES. III. OOK, this little golden Heart Was a true-love shrine For a tress of hair; I held themn Heart and tress, as mine, Like the Love which gave the token:See, to-day the Heart is broken! Broken is the golden heart, Lost the tress of hair; Ah, the shrine is empty, vacant, Desolate and bare! So the token should depart, When Love dies within the heart. Fast and deep the river floweth, Floweth to the west; I will cast the golden trinket In its cold dark breast: - Flow, 0 river, deep and fast, Over all the buried past! TWO LOVES. AdI'.'v, EEP within my heart of hearts, dear, B ounnd with all its strings, BTwo Loves are together reigning, Both are crowned like kings; While my life, still uncomplaining, Rests beneath their wings. TWO LO VES. 317 So they both will rule my heart, dear, Till it cease to beat; No sway can be deeper, stronger, Truer, more complete; Growing, as it lasts the longer, Sweeter, and more sweet. One all life and time transfigures; Piercing through and through Meaner things with magic splendor, Old, yet ever new: This - so strong and yet so tender - Is... my Love for you. Should it fail, - forgive my doubting In this world of pain, - Yet my other Love would ever Steadfastly remain; And I know that I could never Turn to that in vain. Though its radiance may be fainter, Yet its task is wide; For it lives to comfort sorrows, Strengthen, calm, and guide, And from Trust and Honor borrows All its peace and pride. Will you blame my dreaming, even If the first were flown 2 Ah, I would not live without it, It is all your own: And the other - can you doubt it? - Yours, and yours alone. ~31 8 A WOMlIAN'S LAST WORD. A WOMAN'S LAST WOIRD. ELL - the links are broken, All is past; m This farewell, when spoken, Is the last. I have tried and striven All in vain; Such bonds must be riven, Spite of pain, And never, never, never Knit again. So I tell you plainly, It must be: I shall try, not vainly, To be free; Truer, happier chances Wait me yet, While.you, through fresh fancies, Can forget; - And life has nobler uses Than Regret. All past words retracing, One by one, Does not help effacing What is done. Let it be. O, stronger Links can break! Had we dreamed still longer We could wake, - PAST AND PRESENT. 3I9 Yet let us part in kindness For Love's sake. Bitterness and sorrow Will at last, In some bright to-morrow, Heal their past; But future hearts will never Be as true As mine was - is ever, Dear, for you..... Then must we part, when loving As we do? PAST AND PRESENT. - INGER," I cried, "0 radiant Time! thy power Th Has nothing more to give; life is complete: Let but the perfect Present, hour by hour, Itself remember and itself repeat. "And Love, - the future can but mar its splendor, Change can but dim the glory of its youth; Time has no star more faithful or more tender To crown its constancy or light its truth." But Time passed on in spite of prayer or pleading, Through storm and peril; but that life might gain 320 FOR THE FUTURE. A Peace through strife all other peace exceeding, Fresh joy from sorrow, and new hope from pain. And since Love lived when all save Love was dying, And, passed through fire, grew stronger than before: - Dear, you know why, in double faith relying, I prize the Past much, but the Present niore. FOR THE FUTURE. ol \ WONDER did you ever count The value of one human fate; Or sum the infinite amount Of one heart's treasures, and the weight Of Life's one venture, and the whole concentrate purpose of a soul. And if you ever paused to think That all this in your hands I laid Without a fear:-did you not shrink From such a burden? half afraid, Half wishing that you could divide the risk, or cast it all aside. While Love has daily perils, such As none foresee and none control; And hearts are strung so that one touch, Careless or rough, may jar the whole, You well might feel afraid to reign with absolute power of joy and pain. FOR TIHE FUTURE. 321 You well might fear - if Love's sole claim Were to be happy: but true Love Takes joy as solace, not as aim, And looks beyond, and looks above; And sometimes through the bitterest strife first learns to live her highest life. Earth forges joy into a chain Till fettered Love forgets its strength, Its purpose, and its end;- but Pain Restores its heritage at length, And bids Love rise again and be eternal, mighty, pure, and free. If then your future life should need A strength my Love can only gain Through suffering, or my heart be freed Only by sorrow from some stain, Then you shall give, and I will take, this Crown of fire for Love's dear sake. Sept. 8th, i86o. A CHAPLET OF VERSES. t12D PUBLISHED FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE PROVIDENCE ROW NIGHT REFUGE FOR HOMELESS WOMEN AND CHILDREN..Drl HERE is scarcely any charitable institution which should excite such universal, such unhesitating sympathy, as a Night Refuge for the Homeless Poor. AA shelter through the bleak winter nights, leave to rest in some poor shed instead of wandering throtlgh the pitiless streets, is a boon we could hardly deny to a starving dog. -And yet eve have all known that in this country, in this town, many of our miserable fellow-creatures were pacing the streets through the long weary nights, without a roof to shelter them, without food to eat, with their poor rags soaked in lain, and only the bitter winds of Heaven for companions; women and children utterly forlorn and helpless, either wandering about all night, or crouching under a miserable archway, or, worst of all, seeking in death or sin the refuge denied them elsewhere. It is a marvel that we could sleep in peace in our warm, comfortable homes with this horror at our very door. But at last some efforts were made to efface this stain upon our country, publllic sympathly was ap)pealed to, and a few,Refuges' were opened, to shelter our homeless poor through the winter nights. 326 In the Autumn of 1860 there was no Catholic Refuge in the kingdom; and excellent as were the Protestant Refuges, their resources were quite inadequate to meet the claims upon them. In this country, as we all know, the very poorest and most destitute are in many cases Catholics; and doubtless our Priests, to whom no form of sin or sorrow is strange, must see in a special manner, and in innumerable results, the sufferings, dangers, and temptations of the homeless. The Rev. Dr. Gilbert therefore resolved to open a Catholic Night Refuge in his parish, and to his zealous charity and unwearied efforts are due the foundation and success of the PROVIDENCE ROW NrGI-IT REFUGE FOR HOMELESS WOMIEN AND CHILDREN; the first Catholic Refuge in England or Ireland, and still the only one in England. The Sisters of Mercy had long been aiding their pastors in the schools of the parish, and when this new opening for their charity was suggested to them, they unhesitatingly accepted a task, worthyT indeed of the holy name they bear. They were seeking for some house more suitable for a Convent than the one they had hitherto occupied in Broad Street; and when Dr. Gilbert saw the large stable at the back of 14 Finsbury Square, he felt that here was a suitable place for his long-cherished plan of a Night Refuge. It was separated from the house by a yard, and opened on a narrow street at the back, already called, with a happy appropriateness, Providence Row. To Finsbury Square therefore the community removed, and it was not long before the stable was fitted up with wooden beds and benches, the few preparations were completed, 327 and on the 7th of October, 1860, the Refuge was opened. At first there were but fourteen beds, but contributions flowed in from Protestants as well as Catholics, and in February, 1861, thirty-one more beds were added, making in all forty-five. But as many of the poor women have children with them, rarely less than sixty persons are each night admitted. Up to the present time, fourteen thousand seven hundred and eighty-five nights' lodgings have been given, with the same number of suppers and breakfasts. From six to eight are the hours of admission; but this is indeed a needless rule, for a crowd of ragged women, with pale, weary children clinging to them, are waiting patiently long before the doors are opened, and the place is filled at once. Means for washing are given them, they rest themselves in warmth, light, and peace, and at eight o'clock each person receives half a pound of bread and a large basin of excellent gruel. Night prayers are said by one of the Sisters, and then the poor wanderers lie down in their rude but clean and comfortable beds. They have the same meal in the morning. Those who come on Saturday evening remain till Monday, receiving on Sunday, besides the usual breakfast and supper, an extra half-pound of bread, and a good supply of meat soup. There is no dislinction of creed; Protestants and Catholics are alike admitted. There are but two conditions of admittance, - that the applicants be homeless and of good character. This is the only Refuge which makes character a condition; and it is found that, in spite of all precautions, much harml arises in the 328 other Refuges to the young and innocent, from the bad language and evil example of the degraded class with whom they are brought in contact. Each evening (and on Sundays more fully) simple instructions on the Catechism are given by one of the Sisters; but this the Protestants do not attend; they frequently ask leave to be present, but it is not permitted, (without the special permission of one of the clergy,) as the instructions on the practice of our faith would be to them comparatively useless and unmeaning. The temporary shelter and food which is given in Providence Row is not the only, perhaps often not the greatest, benefit bestowed upon the poor forlorn inmates. They find advice, sympathy, and help from the kind Sisters; and the very telling their troubles to one who is there to serve and tend them, not for any earthly reward, but from Christian love and pity, must be a rest to their weary hearts, a comfort in their sore want and distress. It is touching to see their eager desire to be allowed to help the Sister in the cleaning, cooking, &c., and the half-ashamed thankfulness with which they watch her busied in their service. One of the Nuns sleeps every night in the Refuge, and no unruly sound, no whisper of murmur or disrespect, ever rises against her gentle sway. Nay, even more, when she has the sad task of selecting among the waiting crowd the number who may enter, choosing generally those with ehlildren and those who have not applied before, the rest submit without a murmur. Though the little ones are hardly counted, but creep in by their mothers' sides, there are still many - sometimes thirty 329 or forty nightly - turned away for want of space. They have had a glimpse of warmth and light, and then it is the cruel office of the kind Nun to bar the door against them; but no angry word, no remonstrance, meets her sorrowful refusal; they turn once more to their weary wanderings in the dark, bleak streets. And so will many have to do, night after night, until the Refuge is enlarged. The present space will hold no more beds, but to build an additional dormitory is the earnest desire and intention of Dr. Gilbert. No salaries are received by any who have charge of the Refuge. Among the many causes for gratitude we have to our good Religiols, surely it is not one of the least, that what we can spare in the cause of charity goes solely and directly to its object; the more difficult and more perfect share of the good work being taken by theml out of love to God and his poor. The Refuge is open from the month of October to April. It is placed under the special patronage of Our Blessed Lady, and Blessed Benedict Labrd. May the Mother who wandered homeless through inhospitable Bethlehem, and the Saint who was a beggar and an outcast upon the face of the earth, watch over this Refuge for the poor and desolate, and obtain from the charity of the faithful the aid which it so sorely needs. I may add, that donations for the Refuge will be thankfully received by the Rev. Dr. Gilbert, 22 Finsbury Circus, or by the Rev. Mother, at the Convent, 14 Finsbury Square, E. C. We all meditate long and often on the many 330 kinds of sufferings borne for us by our Blessed Redeemer; but perhaps, if we consider a moment, we shall most of us confess, that the one we think of least often, the one we compassionate least of all, is the only one of which he deigned to tell us himself, and for which he himself appealed to our pity in the Divine complaint,,, (The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has not where to lay his head." A. A. P. May, 1862. THE ARMY OF THE LORD. O fight the battle of the Cross, Christ's' chosen ones are sentGood soldiers and great victors-a noble armament. They use no earthly weapon, they know not spear.or sword, Yet right and true and valiant is the army of the Lord. II. Fear them, ye mighty ones of earth; fear them, ye demon foes; Slay them and think to conquer, but the ranks will always close: In vain do Earth and IIell unite their power and skill to try, They fight better for their wounds, and they conquer when they die. 332 THE ARM Y OF THE L ORD. III. The soul of every sinner is the victory they would gain; They would bind each rebel heart in their Master's golden chain: Faith is the shield they carry, and the two-edged sword they bear Is God's strongest, mightiest weapon, and they call it Love and Prayer. IV. Where the savage hordes are dwelling by the Ganges' sacred tide, Through the tracldess Indian forests, St. Francis is their guide; Where crime and sin are raging, to conquer they are gone; They do conquer as they go, for St. Philip leads them on. V. They are come where all are kneeling at the shrines of wealth and pride, And an old and martyred Bishop is their comrade and their guide: To tell the toil-worn negro of freedom and repose, O'er the vast Atlantic's bosom they are called by sweet St. Rose. VI. They are gone where Love is frozen, and Faith grown calm and cold, Where the world is all triumphant, and the shcep have left the fold, THE ARMY OF THE LORD. 333 Where His children scorn His blessings, and His sacred Shrines despise, - And the beacon of the warriors is the light in Mary's eyes. VII. The bugle for their battle is the matin bell for prayer; And for their noble standard Christ's holy Cross they bear; His sacred name their war-cry,'tis in vain what ye can do, They must conquer, for your Angels are leaguing with them too. VIII. Would you know, 0 World, these warriors? Go where the poor, the old, Ask for pardon and for heaven, and you offer food and gold; With healing and with comfort, with words of peace and prayer, Bearing IHis greatest gift to man- Christ's chosen priests are there. Ix. Where.sin and crime are dwelling, hid from the light of day, And life and hope are fading at Death's cold touch away, Where dying eyes in horror see the long-forgotten past, Christ's servants claim the sinner, and gain his soul at last. 3 34 THE ARMY OF THE LORD. x. Where the rich and proud and mighty God's message would defy, In warning and reproof His anointed ones stand by: Bright are the crowns of glory God keepeth for His own, Their life one sigh for heaven, and their aim His will alone. XI. And see sweet Mercy's sister, where the poor and wretched dwell, In gentle accents telling of Him she loves so well; Training young hearts to serve their Lord, and place their hope in Heaven, Bidding her erring sisters love much and be forgiven. XII. And where in cloistered silence dim the Brides of. Jesus dwell, Where purest incense rises up from every lowly cell. They plead not vainly, —they have chosen and gained the better part, And given their gentle life away to Him who has their heart. XIII. And some there are among us — the path which they have trod Of sin and pain and anguish has led at last to God: They plead, and Christ will hear them, that the poor slaves who pine In the bleak dungeon they have left, may see His truth divine. THE ARMY OF THE LORD. 33S XIV. 0, who can tell how many hearts are altars to His praise, From which the silent prayer ascends through patient nights and days: The sacrifice is offered still in secret and alone, O World, ye do not know them, but He can help His own. XV. They are with us, His true soldiers, they come in power and might; Glorious the crown which they shall gain after the heavenly fight; And you, perchance, who scoff, may yet their rest and glory share, As the rich spoil of their battle and the captives of their prayer. XVI. 0, who shall tell the wonder of that great day of'rest, When even in this place of strife His soldiers are so blest: 0 World, 0 Earth, why strive ye? join the low chant they sing, - "0 Grave, where is thy victory! 0 Death, where is thy sting!" 336 THE STAR OF TiE SEA. THE STAR OF THE SEA. OW many a mighty ship j The stormy waves o'erwhelm; Yet our frail bark floats on,!~.;~- O~lOur Angel holds the helm: Dark storms are gathering round, And dangerous winds arise, Yet see! one trembling star Is shining in the skies; — And we are safe who trust in thee, Star of the Sea! A long and weary voyage Have we to reach our home, And dark and sunken rocks Are hid in silver foam; Each moment we may sink, But steadily we sail, Our winged Pilot smiles, And says we shall not fail: — And so we kneel and call on thee, Star of the Sea! Yes, for those shining rays Shall beam upon the main, Shall guide us safely on, Through fear and doubt and pain: And see - the stormy wind Our little sail has caught, The tempest others fear Shall drive us into port: — THE SA CtLED RLIART. 337 Through Life's dark voyage we trust in thee, Star of the Sea! The shore now looms in sight, The far-off golden strand, Yet many a freight is wrecked And lost in sight of land; Then guide us safely home, Through that last hour of strife, And welcome us to land, From the long voyage of life:In death and life we call on thee, Star of the Sea! THE SACRED HEART. HAT wouldst thou have, O soul, Thou weary soul? Lo! I have sought for rest On the Earth's heaving breast, From pole to pole. Sleep - I have been with her, But she gave dreams; Death - nay, the rest he gives Rest only seems. Fair nature knows it not - The grass is growing; The blue air knows it not — The winds are blowing: Not in the changing sky, The stormy sea, 2z 338 THE SACRED HEAART: Yet somewhere in God's wide world Rest there must be. Within thy Saviour's Heart Place all thy- care, And learn, O weary soul, Thy Rest is there. What wouldst thou, trembling soul i Strength for the strife, Strength for this fiery war That we call Life. Fears gather thickly round; Shadowy foes, Like unto armed men, Around me close. What am I, frail and poor, When griefs arise? No, help from the weak earth, Or the cold skies. Lo! I can find no guards, No weapons borrow; Shrinking, alone I stand, With mighty sorrow. Courage, thou trembling soul, Grief thou must bear, Yet thou canst find a strengthWill match despair; Within thy Saviour's HeartSeek for it there. What Wouldst thou have, sad soul, Oppressed with grief -- Comfort: I seek in vain, Nor find relief. THE SA CRED HEJAR T. Nature, all pitiless, Smiles on my pain; I ask my fellow-men, They give disdain. I asked the babbling streams, But they flowed on; I asked the wise and good, But they gave none. Though I have asked the stars, Coldly they shine. They are too bright to know Grief such as mine. I asked for comfort still, And I found tears, And I have sought in vain Long, weary years. Listen, thou mournful soul,' Thy pain shall cease; Deep in His sacred Heart Dwells joy and peace. Yes, in that Heart divine The Angels bright Find, through eternal years, Still new delight. _From thence his constancy The martyr drew, And there the virgin band Their refnge knew. There, racked by pain without, And dread within, How many souls have found Heaven's bliss begin. Then leave thy vain attempts To seek for peace; 340 TTHE NAMIES OF 0 UR LAD Y The world can never give One soul release: But in thy Saviour's Heart Securely dwell, No pain can harLm thee, hid In that sweet cell. Then fly, O coward soul, Delay no more: What words can speak the joy For thee in store? What smiles of earth can tell Of peace like thine? Silence and tears are best For things divine. THE NAMES OF OUR LADY. HROUGH the wide world thy children raise I:.:_~ ~[ Their prayers, and still we see Calm are the nights and bright the days Of those who trust in thee. Around thy starry crown are wreathed So many names divine: Which is the dearest to my heart, And the most worthy thine? Star of the Sea: we kneel and pray When tempests raise their voice; Star of the Sea! the haven reached, We call thee and rejoice. THE NAMES OF OUR LAD Y. 34I Help of the Christian: in our need Thy mighty aid we claim; If we are faint and weary, then We trust in that dear name. Our Lady of the Rosary: What name can be so sweet As what we call thee when we place Our chaplets at thy feet. Bright Queen of Heaven: when we are sad, Best solace of our pains;It tells us, though on earth we toil, Our Mother lives and reigns. Our Lady of 3Mount Carmel: thus Sometimes thy name is known; It tells us of the badge we wear, To live or die thine own. Our Lady dear of Victories: We see our faith oppressed, And, praying for our erring land, We love that name the best. Ref]ge of Sinners: many a soul, By guilt cast down, and sin, Has learned through this dear name of thine Pardon and peace to win. Health of the Sick: when anxious hearts Watch by the sufferer's bed, On this sweet name of thine they lean, Consoled and comforted. 342 THIE NAMES OP OUR LADY. Mother of Sorrovws: many a heart Half-broken by despair IIas laid its burden by the cross, And found a mother there. Queen of all Saints: the Church appeals For her loved dead to thee; She knows they wait in patient pain A-bright eternity. Fair Queen of Virgins: thy pure band, The lilies round thy throne, Love the dear title which they bear Most that it is thine own. True Queen of Martyrs: if we shrink Flrom want, or pain, or woe, TWe think of the sharp sword that pierced Thy heart, and call thee so. Mary: the dearest name of all, The holiest and the best; The first low word that Jesus lisped Laid on His mother's breast. Mary, the name that Gabriel spoke, The name that conquers hell; Mary, the name that through high heaven The angels love so well. Mary, - our comfort and our hope, - O may that word be given To be the last we sigh on earth, — The first we lbreathe in heaven. gi CHAPLET OF FLOWERS. 343 A CHAPLET OF FLOWERS.,-#j F'EAR, set the casement open, The evening breezes blow' Sweet perfumes from the flowers I cannot -see below. I can but catch the waving Of chestnut boughs t;hat pass, Their shadow must have covered The sun-dial on the grass. So go and bring the flowers I love best to my room, My failing strengthl no longer Can bear me where they bloom, You know I used to love them,.But ah! they come too late, - For see, my hands are trembling Beneath their dewy weight. So I will watch you weaving A chaplet for me, dear, Of all my favorite flowers, As I could. do last year. First, take those crimson roses, —' How red their petals glow! Refl as the blood of Jesus, Whibih heals olr sin and( woe. 4 A CHAPLET OF FL OWR'ER, See in each heart of crimson A deeper crimson shine: So in the foldings of our hearts Should glow a love divine. Next place those tender violets, Look how they still regret The cell where they were hidden, — The tears are on them yet. How many souls - His loved onesDwell lonely and apart, Hiding from all but One above The fragrance of their heart. Then take that virgin lily, How holily she stands! You know the gentle angels Bear lilies in their hands. Yet crowned with purer radiance A deeper love they claim,'Because their queen-like whiteness Is linked with Mary's name. And now this spray of ivy: You know its gradual clasp Uproots strong trees, and towers Fall crumbling in its grasp. So God's dear grace around us With secret patience clings, And slow, sure power, that loosens Strong holds on human things. A CHAPLET OF FLOWERS. 345 Then heliotrope, that turneth Towards her lord the sun,Would that our thoughts as fondly Sought our beloved One. Nay, if that branch be fading, Cast not one blossom by, Its little task is ended And it does well to die. And let some field flowers even Be wreathed among the rest, I think the infant Jesus Would love such ones the best. These flowers are all too brilliant, So place calm heart's-ease there, God's last and sacred treasure For all who wait and bear. Then lemon-leaves, whose sweetness Grows sweeter than before When bruised, and crushed, and broken, - Hearts need that lesson more. Yet stay, - one crowning glory, All His, and yet all ours; The dearest, tenderest thought of all, Is still the Passion-flower's. So take it now, - nay, heed not My tears that on it fall; I thank Him for the flowers, As I can do for all. 346 K YRIE ELEIS ON. And place it on the altar, Where oft, in days long flown, I knelt by His dear Mother, And knew she was my own. The bells ring out her praises, The evening shades grow dim; Go there and say a prayer for me, And sing Our Lady's hymn. While I lie here, and ask her help In that last, longed-for clay - When the Belovdec of my heart ~Will call my soul away. KYRIE ELEISON. i N joy, in pain, in sorrow, Father, Thy hand we see;. But some among Thy children Deny this faith and Thee. They will not ask Thy mercy, But we kneel for them in prayer; Are they not still Thy children? Pity, O God! and spare. Thy peace, O Lord, has never On their desolate pathway shone, Darkness is:all around them: Kyvrie Eleison! For them the starry heavens No hymn of worship raise; KYRI' ELEISON. 347 For them, earth's innocent flowers Breathe not Thy silent praise; In heaven they know no Saviour, No Father, and no Friend, And life is all they hope for, And death they call the end; Their eyes, 0 Lord! are blinded To the glories of the sun, To the shining of the sea-starKyrie Eleison! By the love Thy saints have shown Thee, And the sorrows they have borne, Leave not these erring creatures To wander thus forlorn. By Thy tender name of Saviour, - The name they have denied; By Thy bitter death and passion, And the Cross which they deride; By the anguish Thou hast suffered, And the glory Thou hast won; By Thy love and by Thy pity - Christe Eleison! Pray for them, glorious seraphs, And ye, biright angel band, Who chant HIis praises ever, And in His presence stand; And thou, 0 gentle Mother, Queen of the starry sky; Ye Saints wh.ose toils are over, Join your voices to our cry, - In Thy terror or Thy mercy, Call them ere life is done, For His sake Who died to save them, Kyrie Eleison! 348 THE ANNUNCIA TION. THE ANNUNCIATION. OW pure, and frail, and white, The snowdrops shine! Gather a garland bright iFor Mary's shrine. For, born of winter snows, These fragile flowers Are gifts to our fair Queen From Spring's first hours. For on this blessed day She knelt at prayer; When, lo! before her shone An Angel fair. "Hail, Mary! " thus he cried, With reverent fear: She, with sweet wondering eyes, Marvelled to hear. Be still, ye clouds of Heaven! Be silent, Earth! And hear an Angel tell Of Jesus' birth, While she, whom Gabriel hails As full of grace, Listens with humble faith In her sweet face. THE ANNUNCIATION. 349 Be still, Pride, War, and Pomp, Vain Hopes, vain Fears, For now an Angel speaks, And Mary hears. "Hail, Mary! " lo, it rings Through ages on; Hail, Mary! " it shall sound, Till Time is done. " Hail, Mary!" infant lips Lisp it to-day; Hail, Mary! " with faint smile The dying say. "Hail, Mary! " many a heart Broken with grief, In that angelic prayer Has found relief. And many a half-lost soul, When turned at bay, With those triumphant words Has won the day. "Hail, Mary, Queen of Heaven! " Let us repeat, And place our snowdrop wreath Here at her feet. 350 AN APPEAL. AN APPEAL. " THE IRISH CHURCH MISSION FOR CONVERTING THE CATHOLICS.' r. PARE her, O cruel England! [.Q.g Thy Sister lieth low; Chained and oppressed she lieth, Spare her that cruel blow. We ask not for the freedom Heaven has vouchsafed to thee, Nor bid thee share with Ireland The empire of the sea; Her children ask no shelter, - Leave them the stormy sky; They ask not for thy harvests, For they know how to die: Deny them, if it please thee, A grave beneath the sod: — But we do cry, 0 England, Leave them their faith in God! Take, if thou wilt, the earnings Of the poor peasant's toil, Take all the scanty produce That grows on Irish soil, To pay the alien preachers Whom Ireland will not hear, To pay the scoffers at a Creed Which Irish hearts hold dear: But leave them, cruel England, The gift their God has given, AN APPEAL. 351 Leave them their ancient worship, Leave them their faith in Heaven. You come and offer Learning,A mighty gift,'t is true; Perchance the greatest blessing That now is known to you. But not to see the wonders Sages of old beheld Can they peril a priceless treasure, The Faith their Fathers held; For in learning and in science They may forget to pray,God will not ask for knowledge On the great judgment day. When, in their wretched cabins, Racked by the fever pain, And the weak cries of their children Who ask for food in vain; When starving, naked, helpless, From the shed that keeps them warm Man has driven them forth to perish, In a less cruel storm; - Then, then, we plead for mercy, Then, Sister, hear our cry! For all we ask, 0 England, Is- leave them there to die! Cursed is the food and raiment For which a soul is sold; Tempt not another Judas To barter God for gold. You offer food and shelter If they their faith deny: - 352 AN APPEAL. What do you gain, 0 England, By such a shallow lie?..... We will not judge the tempted,May God blot out their shame, - He sees the misery round them, He knows man's feeble frame; His pity still may save them, In His strength they must trust Who calls us all His children, Yet knows we are but dust. Then leave them the kind tending Which helped their childish years; Leave them the gracious comfort Which dries the mourner's tears; Leave them to that great mother In whose bosom they were born; Leave them the holy mysteries That comfort the forlorn: And, amid all their trials, Let the Great Gift abide, Wh-lich you, 0 prosperous England, Have dared to cast aside. Leave them the pitying Angels, And Mary's gentle aid, For which earth's dearest treasures Were not too dearly paid. Take back your bribes, then, England, Your gold is black and dim, And if God sends plague and famine, They can die and go to Him. THE JUBILEE OF 1'50. 353 THE JUBILEE OF i85o. [The titles of the "Island of Saints" and the "Dower of our Lady," though more frequently applied to Ireland, Were often given to England in former times.] LESS God, ye happy Lands,.For your more favored lot: Our England dwells apart, Yet 0 forget her not. While, with united joy, This day you all adore, Remember what she was, Though her voice is heard no more. Pray for our desolate land, Left in her pride and power: — She was the Isle of Saints, lShe was Our Lady's Dower. Look on her ruined Altars; HE dwelleth there no more: Think what her empty churches Have been in times of yore; She knows the names no longer Of her own sainted dead, Denies the faith they held, And the cause for which they bled. Then pray for our desolate land, Left in her pride and power: — Shle was the Isle of Saints, She was Our Lady's Dower! 23 354 THIE JUBILEEL OF 850. Pray that her vast Cathedrals, Desertecd, empty, bare, May once more echo accents Of Love, and Faith, and Prayer; That the holy sign may bless us, On wood, and field, and plain, And Jesus, Mary, Joseph, May dwell with us again. Pray, ye more faithful nations, In this most happy hour:- She was the Isle of Saints, She was Our Lady's Dower. Beg of our Lord to give her The gift she cast aside, And in His mercy pardon Her faithlessness and pride: Pray to her Saints, who worship Before God's mercy Throne; Look where our Queen is dwelling, Ask her to claim her own, To give her the proud titles Lost in an evil hour: - She was the Isle of Saints, She was Our Lady's Dower. CHRIS T FAS FL O WEARS. 355 CHRISTMAS FLOWERS. HE Earth is so bleak and deserted, So cold the winds blow, That no bud or no blossom will venture To peep from below; But, longing for spring-time, they nestle Deep under the snow. 0, in May how we honored Our Lady, Her own month of flowers! How happy we were with our garlands Through all the spring hours! All her shrines, in the church or the way-side, Were made into bowers, And in August - her glorious Assumption; What feast was so bright! What clusters of virginal lilies, So pure and so white! Why, the incense could scarce overpower Their perfum'e that night. And through her dear feasts of October The roses bloomed still; Our baskets were laden with flowers, Her vases to fill: Oleanders, geraniums, and myrtles, We chose at our will. And we know when the Purification, Her first feast, comes round, 356 CIHRISTMiAS FLOWERS. The early spring flowers, to greet it, Just opening are found; And pure, white, and spotless, thle snowdrop Will pierce the dark ground. And now, in this dreary December, Our glad hearts are fain To see if Earth comes not to help us; We seek all in vain: Not the tiniest blossom is coming Till Spring breathes again. And the bright feast of Christmas is dawning, And Mary is blest; For now she will give us her Jesus, Our dearest, our best, And see where she stands, the Maid-Mother, Her Babe on her breast! And not one poor garland to give her, And yet now, behold, How the Kings bring their gifts - myrrh, and incenm And bars of pure gold: And the Shepherds have brought for th6 Baby Some lambs from their folds. He stretches His tiny hands towards us, He brings us all grace; And look at His Mother who holds Him, — The smile on her face Says they welcome the humblest gifts In the manger we place. Where love takes, let love give; and so doubt not: Love counts but the will, A DESIRE. 357 And the heart has its flowers of devotion No Winter can chill; They who cared for " good will " that first Christmas Will care for it still. In the Chaplet on Jesus and Mary, From our hearts let us call, At each Ave Maria we whisper A rosebud shall fall, And at each Gloria Patri a lily, The crown of them all! A DESIRE. l~,,,f TO have dwelt in Bethlehem W hen the star of the Lord shone bright! To have sheltered the holy wanderers On that blessed Christmas night; To have kissed the tender wayworn feet Of the Mother undclefiled, And, with reverent wonder and deep delight, To have tended the Holy Child! Hush! such a glory was not for thee; But that care may still be thine; For are there not little ones still to aid For the sake of the Child divine? Are there no wandering Pilgrims now, To thy heart and thy home to take 3 And are there no mothers whose weary hearts You can comfort for Mary's sake? 35 s8 A DESIRE. O to have knelt at Jesus' feet, And to have learnt His heavenly lore! To have listened the gentle lessons He taught On mountain, and sea, and shore! While the rich and the mighty knew Him not, To have meekly done His will - Hush! for the worldly reject Him yet, You can serve and love Him still. Time cannot silence His mighty words, And though ages have fled away, His gentle accents of love divine Speak to your soul to-day. O to have solaced that weeping one Whom the righteous dared despise! To have tenderly bound up her scattered hair, And have dried her tearful eyes! Hush! there are broken hearts to soothe, And penitent tears to dry, While Magdalen prays for you and them, From her home in the starry sky. O to have followed the mournful way Of those faithful few forlorn! And grace, beyond even alln angel's hope, The Cross for our Lord have borne! To have shared in His tender mother's grief, To have wept at Mary's side, To have lived as a child in her home, and then In her loving care have died! Hush! and with reverent sorrow still, Mary's great anguish share; And learn, for the sake of her Son divine, Thy cross, like His, to bear. OUR DAILY BREAD. 359 The sorrows that weigh on thy soul unite With those which thy Lord has borne, And Mary will comfort thy dying hour, Nor leave thy soul forlorn. 0 to have seen what we now adore, And, though veiled to faithless sight, To have known, in the form that Jesus wore, I The Lord of Life and Light! Hush! for He dwells among us still, And a grace can yet be thine, Which the scoffer and doubter can never know, - The Presence of the Divine. Jesus is with His children yet, For His word can never deceive; Go where His lowly Altars rise, And worship, and believe. OUR DAILY BREAD. IVE us our daily Bread, <~~- x:~I 0 God, the bread of strength! [-~S- & -For we have learnt to know How weak we are at length. As children we are weak, As children must be fed; - Give us Thy Grace, 0 Lord, To be our daily Bread. Give us our daily Bread, - The bitter bread of grief. 3 60 THREEFOLD. We sought earth's poisoned feasts For pleasure and relief; We sought her deadly fruits, But now, 0 God, instead, We ask Thy healing grief To be our daily Bread. Give us our daily Bread To cheer ourfainting soul; The feast of comfort, Lord, And peace, to make us whole: For we are sick of tears, The useless tears we shed; — Now give us comfort, Lord, To be our daily Bread. Give us our daily Bread, The Bread of Angels, Lord, By us, so many times, Broken, betrayed, adored: His Body and His Blood;The feast that Jesus spread: Give Him - our life, our allTo be our daily Bread! THREEFOLD. OTIIER f grace and mercy, Behold how burdens three WVeigh down my weary spirit, And drive me here- to Thee. Three gifts I place forever Before thy shrine: THREEFOLD. 36I The threefold offering of my love, Mary, to thine! The Past: with all its memories, Of pain- that stings me yet; Of sin - that brought repentance; Of joy - that brought regret. That which has been -forever So bitter-sweetI lay in humblest offering Before thy feet. The Present: that dark shadow Through which we toil to-day; The slow drops of the chalice That must not pass away. Mother! I dare not struggle, Still less despair: I place my Present in thy hands, And leave it there. The Future: holding all things Which I can hope or fear, Brings sin and pain, it may be, Nearer and yet more near. Mother! this doubt and shrinking Will not depart, Unless I trust my Future To thy dear Heart. Making the Past my lesson, Guiding the Present right, Ruling the misty Future, - Bless them and me to-night. 362 CONFIDO ET CONQUIESCO. What may be, and what must be, And what has been, In thy dear care forever I leave, my Queen! CONFIDO ET CONQUIESCO. "Scit; potest; vult: quid est quod timeamus? " S. IGNATIUS, RET not, poor soul: while doubt and fear Disturb thy breast, The pitying angels, who can see How vain thy wild regret must be, Say, Trust and Rest. Plan not, nor scheme,- but calmly wait; His choice is best. While blind and erring is thy sight, His wisdom sees and judges right, So Trust and Rest. Strive not, nor struggle': thy poor might Can never wrest The meanest thing to serve thy will; All power is His alone: Be still, And Trust and Rest. Desire not: self-love is strong Within thy breast; And yet He loves thee better still, So let Him do His loving will, And Trust and Rest. ORA PRO MfE. 363 What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns Supreme confessed; His power is infinite; His love Thy deepest, fondest dreams above;So Trust and Rest. ORA PRO ME. VE MARIA! bright and pure, Hear, 0 hear me when I pray! Pains and pleasures try the pilgrim On his long and weary way; Pears and perils are around me, - Ora pro me. Mary, see my heart is burdened, Take, 0 take the weight away,. Or help me, that I may not murmur If it is a cross you lay On my weak and trembling heart, - but Ora pro me. Mary, Mary, Queen of Heaven! Teach, 0 teach me to obey: Lead me on, though fierce temptations Stand and meet me in the way; When I fail and faint, my mother, Ora pro me. Then shall I - if thou, 0 Mary, Art my strong support and stay - 364 THE CHURCH IN x849. Fear nor feel the threefold danger Standing forth in dread array; Now and ever shield and guard me, Ora pro me. When my eyes are slowly closing, And I fade from earth away, And when Death, the stern destroyer, Claims my body as his prey, - Claim my soul, and then, sweet Mary, Ora pro me. THE- CHURCH IN I849. X MIGHTY Mother, hearken! for thy foes Gather around thee, and exulting cry That thine old strength is gone and thou must die, Pointing with fierce rejoicing to thy woes. And is it so? The raging whirlwind blows No stronger now than it has done of vore: Rebellion, strife, and sin have been before; The same companions whom thy Master chose. We too rejoice: we know thy might is more When to the world thy glory seemeth dim; Nor can Hell's gates prevail to conquer Thee, Who hearest over all the voice of Him Who chose thy first and greatest Prince should be A fisher on the Lake of Galilee. FISHER S OF MEN. 365 FISHERS OF MEN. HE boats are out, and the storm is high; We kneel on the shore and pray: The Star of the Sea shines still in the sky, And God is our help and stay. The fishers are weak, and the tide is strong, And their boat seems slight and frail; But St. Peter has steered it for them so long, It would weather a rougher gale. St. John the BelovMd sails with them too, And his loving words they hear; So with tender trust the boat's brave crew Neither doubt, or pause, or fear. He who sent them fishing is with them still, And He bids them cast their net; And He has the power their boat to fill, So we know He will do it yet. They have cast their nets again and again, And now call to us on shore; If our feeble prayers seem only in vain, We will pray and pray the more. Though the storm is loud, and our voice is drowned By tile roar of the wind and sea, We know that more terrible tempests found Their Ruler, 0 Lord, in Thee! 366 THE OLD YEAR'S BLESSING. See, they do not pause, they are toiling on, Yet they east a lovingglance On the star above, and ever anon Look up through the blue expanse. O Mary, listen! for danger is nigh, And we know thou art near us then; For thy Son's dear servants to thee we cry, Sent out as fishers of men. O, watch, - as of old thou didst watch the boat On the Galilean lake, - And grant that the fishers may keep afloat Till the nets, o'ercharged, shall break. THE OLD YEAR'S BLESSING.; - AM fading from you, But one draweth near, Called the Angel-guardian Of the coming year. If my gifts and graces Coldly you forget, Let the New Year's Angel Bless and crown them ypt. For we work together; He and I are one: Let him end and perfect All I leave undone. TIE OLD YEAR'S BLESSING. 367 I brought Good Desires, Though as yet but seeds; Let the New Year make theim Blossom into Deeds. I brought Joy to brighten Many happy days; Let the New Year's Angel Turn it into Praise. If I gave you Sickness, If I brought you Care, Let him make one Patience, And the other Prayer. Where I brought you Sorrow, Through his care, at length, It may rise triumphant Into future Strength. If I brought you Plenty, All wealth's bounteous charms, Shall not the New Angel Turn them into Alms 2 I gave Health and Leisure, Skill to dream and plan; Let him make them nobler; — Work for God and Man. If I broke your Idols, Showed you they were dust, Let him turn the Knowledge Into heavenly Trust. 368 EVENING CHANT. If I brought Temptation, Let sin die away Into boundless Pity For all hearts that stray. If your list of Errors Dark and long appears, Let this new-born Monarch Melt them into Tears. May you hold this Angel Dearer than the last, - So I bless his Future, While he crowns my Past. EVENING CHANT. 0 TREW before our Lady's Picture Roses - flushing like the sky Where the lingering western cloudlets Watch the daylight die. Violets steeped in dreamy odors, Humble as the Mother mild, Blue as were her eyes when watching O'er her sleeping Child. Strew white Lilies, pure and spotless, Bending on their stalks of green, Bending down with tender pity, - Like our Holy Queen. EVENING CHANT. 369 Let the flowers spend their fragrance On our Lady's own dear shrine, While we claim her gracious helping Near her Son divine. Strew before our Lady's picture Gentle flowers, fair and sweet; Hope, and Fear, and Joy, and Sorrow, Place, too, at her feet. Hark! the Angelus is ringing, - Ringing through the fading light, In the heart of every Blossom Leave a prayer to-night. All night long will Mary listen, VWhile our pleadings fond and deep On their scented breath are rising For us - while we sleep. Scarcely through the starry silence Shall one trembling petal stir, While they breathe their own sweet fragrance And our prayers - to Her. Peace to every heart that loves her! All her children shall be blest: While She prays and watches for us, WVe will trust and rest. 24 370 A CFIRISTIMAS CA ROL. A CHRISTMAS CAROL..HE moon that now is shining Shone ages since on Shepherds Who watched their flocks by night. There was no sound upon the earth, The azure air was still, The sheep in quiet clusters lay, Upon the grassy hill. When lo! a white-winged Angel The watchers stood before, Andc told how Christ was born on earth, For mortals to adore; He bade the trembling Shepherds Listen, nor be afraid, And told how in a manger The glorious Child was laid. When suddenly in the Heavens Appeared an Angel band, (The while in reverent wonder The Syrian Shepherds stand,) And all the bright host chanted Words that shall never cease, — Glory to God in the highest, On earth good-will and peace l The vision in the heavens. Faded, and all was still, A CltRIST.MIAS CAROL. 371 And the wondering shepherds left their flocks, To feed upon the hill: Towards the blessed city Quickly their course they held, And in a lowly stable Virgin and Child beheld. Beside a humble manger Was the Maiden Mother mild. And in her arms her Son divine, A new-born Infant, smiled. No shade of future sorrow From Calvary then was cast; Only the glory was revealed, The suffering was not passed. The Eastern kings before him knelt, And rarest offerings brought; The shepherds worshipped and adored The wonders God had wrought: They saw the crown for Israel's King, The future's glorious part: - But all these things the Mother kept And pondered in her heart. Now we that Maiden Mother The Queen of Heaven call; And the Child we call our Jesus, Saviour and Judge of all. But the star that shone in Bethlehem Shines still, and shall not cease, And we listen still to the tidings, Of Glory and of Peace. 372 -OUR TITLES. OUR TITLES. AdRE we not Nobles? we who trace Our pedigree so high That God for us and for our race Created Earth and Sky, And Light and Air and Time and Space, To serve us and then die. Are we not Princes? we who stand As heirs beside the Throne; We who can call the promised Land Our Heritage, our own; And answer to no less command Than God's, and His alone. Are we not Kings? both night and day, From early until late, About our bed, about our way, A guard of Angels wait; And so we watch and work and pray In more than royal state. Are we not holy? Do not start: It is God's sacred will To call us Temples set apart His Holy Ghost may fill: Our very food.... O hush, my Heart, Adore IT and be still! Are we not more? our Life shall be Immortal and divine. MINISTERIN'G ANGELS. 373 The nature Mary gave to Thee, Dear Jesus, still is Thine; Adoring in Thy Heart, I see Such blood as beats in mine. O God, that. we can dare to fail, And dare to say we must! O God, that we can ever trail Such banners in the du-st, Can let such starry honors pale, And such a Blazon rust! Shall we upon such Titles bring The taint of sin and shame? Shall we, the children of the King Who hold so grand a claim, Tarnish by any meaner thing The glory of our name? MINISTERING ANGELS. NGELS of light, spread your bright wings and keep Near me at morn: Nor in the starry eve, nor midnight deep, Leave me forlorn. From all dark spirits of unholy power Guard my weak heart Circle around me in each perilous hour, And take my part. 374~ TIIE STRIRNES OF M'ARY. From all foreboding thoughts and dangerous fears, Keep me secure; Teach me to hope, and through the bitterest tears Still to endure. If lonely in the road so fair and wide My feet should stray, Then through a rougher, safer pathway guide Me day by day. Should my heart faint at its unequal strife, O still be neal! Shadow the perilous sweetness of this life With holy fear. Then leave me not alone in this bleak world, Wbhere'er I roam, And at the end, with your bright wings unfurled, O take me home! THE SHRINES OF MARY. HERE are many shrines of Our Lady, Inll different lands and climes, Where I can remember kneeling 5 In old and beloved times. They arise now like stars before me, Through the long, long night of years; Some are bright with a heavenly radiance, And others shine out through tears. THE SHRINES OF MARY. 375 They arise too like mystical flowers, All different, and all the same, - As they lie in my heart like a garland That is wreathlled round Mary's name. Thus each shrine has two consecrations; One all the faithful can trace, But one is for me and me only, Holding my soul with its grace. A shrine in a quaint old Chapel Defaced and broken with years, Where the pavement is worn with kneeling, And the step with kisses and tears. She is there in the dawn of morning, When the day is blue and bright, In tile shadowy evening twilight And the silent, starry night. Through the dim old painted window The Hours look down, and shed A different glory upon her, Violet, purple, and red. And there - in that quaint old Chapel As I stood one day alone - Came a royal message from Mary, That claimed my life as her own. 376 THE SHRINES OF iAR Y. II. I remember a vast Cathedral Which holds the struggle and strife Of a grand and powerful city, As the heart holds the throb of a life. Where the ebb and the flow of passion, And sin in its rushing tide, Have dashed on that worn stone chapel, Dashed, and broken, and died. And above the voices of sorrow And the tempter's clamorous din, The voice of Mary has spoken And conquered the pain and the sin: For long ages and generations Have come there to strive and to pray; She watched and guided them living, And does not forget them to-day. And once, in that strange, vast City I stood in its great stone square, Alone in the crowd and the turmoil Of the pitiless Southern glare; And a grief was upon my spirit, Which I could not cast away, It weighed on my heart all the night-time, And it fretted my life all day. So then to that calm, cool refiuge I turned from the noisy street, THEY SHRINES OF MARY. 377 And I carried my burden of sorrow - And left it at Mary's feet. III. I remember a lonely chapel With a tender claim upon me; It was built for the sailors only, And they call it the Star of the Sea. And the murmuring chant of the Vespers Seems caught up by the wailing breeze, And the throb of the organ is echoed By the rush of the silver seas. And the votive hearts and the anchors Tell of danger and peril past; Of the hope deferred and the waiting, And the comfort that came at last. I too had a perilous venture, On a stormy and treacherous main, And I too was pleading to Mary From the depths of a heart in pain. It was not a life in peril, - O God, it was far, far more! And the whirlpool of Hell's temptations Lay between the wreck and the shore. Thick mists hid the light of the beacon, And the voices of warning were dumb; So I knelt by the Altar of Mary, And told her Her hour was come. 378 THE SHIRlYES OF MARY. For she waits till Earth's aid forsakes us, Till we know our own efforts are vain; And we wait, in our faithless blindness, Till no chance but her prayers remain. And now in that sea-side chapel By that humble village shrine Hangs a heart of silver, that tells her Of the love and the gladness of mine. IV. There is one far shrine I remember In the years that are fled away, Where the grand old mountains are guarding The glories of night and day. Where the earth in her rich, glad beauty Seems made for our Lady's throne, And the stars in their radiant clusters Seem fit for her crown alone. Where the balmy breezes of summer On their odorous pinions bear The fragrance of orange blossoms, And the chimes of the Convent prayer. There I used to ask for Her blessing As each summer twilight was gray; There I used to kneel at her Altar At each blue, calm dawn of day. There in silence was Victory granted, And the terrible strife begun, TIHE SHRIYNES OF MARY. 379 That only with Her protection Could be dared, or suffered, or won. If I love the name of that Altar, And the thought of those days gone by, It is only the Heart of Mary And my own that remember why. V. Where long ages of toil and of sorrow, And Poverty's weary doom, Have clustered together so closely That life seems shadowed with gloom, Where crime that lurks in the darkness And vice that glares at the day Make the spirit of hope grow weary, And the spirit of love decay, Where the feet of the wretched and sinfill Have closest and oftencst trod, Is a house, as humble as any, Yet we call it the House of God. It is one of our Lady's Chapels; And though poorer than all the rest, Just because of the sin and the sorrow, I think she loves it the best. There are no rich gifts on the Altar, The shrine is humble and bare, Yet the poor and the sick and the tempted Think their home and their heaven is there. 380 THE SHRINES OF MARY. And before that humble Altar Where Our Lady of Sorrow stands, I knelt with a weary longing, And I laid a vow in her hands. And I know, when I enter softly And pause at that shrine to pray, That the fret and the strife and the burden Will be softened and laid awav. And the Prayer and the Vow that sealed it Have bound my soul to that shrine, For the Mother of Sorrows remembers -Her promise, and waits for mine. It is one long chaplet of memories Tender and true and sweet, That gleam in the Past and the Distance Like lamps that burn at her feet. Like stars that will shine forever, For time cannot touch or stir The graces that Mary has given, Or the trust that we give to her. Past griefs are perished and over, Past joys have vanished and died, Past loves are fled and forgotten, Past hopes have been laid aside. Past fears have faded in daylight, Past sins have melted in tears; — THE HOMELESS POOR. 381 One Love and Remembrance only Seems alive in those dead old years. So wherever I. look in the distance, And whenever I turn to the Past, There is always a shrine of Mary Each brighter still than the last. I will ask for one grace, 0 Mother! And will leave the rest to thy will: From one shrine of thine to another, Let my Life be a Pilgrimage still! At each one, 0 Mother of Mercy! Let still more of thy love be given, Till I kneel at the last and brightest, - The Throne of the Queen of Heaven. THE HOMELESS POOR. A-LM the city lay in midnight silence, Deep on streets and roofs the snow lay white; Then I saw an Angel spread his pinions Rising up to Heaven to meet the night. In his hands he bore two crowns of lilies, Sweet with sweetness not of earthly flowers, But a coronal of prayers for IHeaven He had gathered through the evening hours; 382 THE HIOMil'LESS POOR. He had gathered ill that mighty city Through whose streets and pathways lie had trod, Till he wove into a winter garland Prayers that faithful hearts had sent to God. Through the azure midnight he was rising; As I watchecd, I saw his upward flight Checked by a mighty Angel, whose stern challenge, Like a silver blast, rang through the night. Then strange words upon the silence broke, And I listened as the Angels spoke. THE ANGEL OF PR.AYERS. "I have come from wandering through the city, I have been to seek a garland meet To be placed before His throne in Heaven, To be laid at His dear Mother's feet. "I have been to one of England's Havens, - To a HomIE for peace and honor planned, Where the kindly lights of joy and duty Meet and make the glory of the land. "There I heard the ring of children's laughter Hushed to eager silence; I could see How the father stroked their golden tresses As they clustered closer round his knee. "And I hleard him tell, with loving honor, How the wanderers'to Bethlehem came, And I saw each head in reverence bowing When he named the Holy Child's dear name. TIlE IIOMIELESS P OOR. 38 3 "Then he told how houseless, homeless, friendless, They had wandered wearily and long, - Of the manger where our Lord was cradled, Of the Shepherds listening to our song. "As he spoke, I heard his accents falter, And I saw each childish heart was stirred With a loving throb of tender pity At the sorrowful, sweet tale they heard. "As the children sang their Christmas carol I could see the mother's eyes grow dilm, And she held her baby closer,- feeling Most for Mary through her love for him. "So I gathered from that home, as flowers, All the tender, loving words I heard Given this night to Jesus and to Mary,Look at them, and say if I have erred." THE ANGEL OF DEEDS. "In that very street, at that same hour, In the bitter air and drifting sleet, Crouching in a doorway was a mother, WVith her children shuddering at her feet. " She was silent;- who would hear her pleading? Men and beasts were housed; but she must stay Houseless in the great and pitiless city, Till the dawning of the winter day. "Homeless - while her fellow-men are resting Calm and blest: their very dogs are fed, 384.'THE HOMELESS PO OR. Warm and sheltered, and their sleeping children Safely nestled in each little bed. "She can only draw her poor rags closer Round her wailing baby, - closer hold One, the least and sickliest, - while the others Creep together, tired, hungry, cold. "W What are these poor flowers thou hast gathered. Cast such fragile, worthless tokens by: Will He prize mere words of love and honor While His Homeless Poor are left to die. IIHe has said - His truths are all eternal — What He said both has been and shall be, - W7hat ye have not done to these myl poor ones, Lo! ye have not done it unto Mle." Then I saw the Angel with the flowers Bow his head and answer, "It is well," As he cast a wreath of lilies earthward, And I saw them wither as they fell. Once again the Angel raised his head, Smiled and showed the other wreath and said:THE ANGEL OF PRAYERS. c" I have been where, kneeling at the Altar, Hushed in reverent awe, a faithful throng'Have this night adored the Holy Presence, Worshipping with incense, prayer, and song. THE tHOMELESS POOR. 385 "Every head was bowed in loving honor, Every heart with loving awe was thrilled; Earth and things of earth seemed all forgotten; He was there - and meaner thoughts were stilled. "There on many souls in strait and peril Did that gracious Benedictioii fall, With the strength or peace or joy or warning He could give, who loved and knew them all. " There was silence, but all hearts were speaking: When the deepest hush of silence fell, On the fragrant air and breathless longing Came the echo of one silver bell. " On each spirit such a flood of sweetness Broke —as we who dwell in Heaven feel, Then the Adoremwus in eternezm, Jubilant and strong, rolled peal on peal. " They had given holy adoration, Tender words of love and praise; all bright With the dew of contrite tears - such blossoms I am bearing to His throne to-night." THE ANGEL OF DEEDS. "Panse again: these flowers are fair and lovely, Radiant in their perfume and their bloom; But not far from where you plucked this garland Is a squalid place in ghastly gloom. "There black waters in their luring silence Under loathsome arches crawl and creep, 25 386 TlHEE HOMELESS POOR. There the rats and vermin herd together.... There God's poor ones sometimes comie to sleep. "There the weary come, who through the daylight Pace the town, and crave for work in vain; There they crouch in cold and rain and hunger, WVaiting for another day of pain. "In slow darkness creeps the dismal river; From its depths looks up a sinful rest; Many a weary, baffled, hopeless wanderer Has it drawn into its treacherous breast. " There is near another River flowing, Black with guilt, and deep as hell and sinll On'its brink even sinners stand and shudder,Cold and hunger goad the homeless in. I" Yet these poor ones to His heart are dearer For their grief and peril: dear indeed Would have been the love that sought and fed them, Gave them warmth and shelter in their need. (For His sake those tears and prayers are offered Which you bear as flowers to His throne; Better still would be the food and shelter, Given for thim and given to His own. "Praise with loving deeds is dear and holy, Words of praise will never serve instead: Lo! you offer music, hymn, and incense — When He has not wohere to lay His head." THIE HOMELESS POOR. 387 Then once more the Angel with the Flowers Bowed his head, and answered, " It is well," As he cast a wreath of lilies earthwards, And I saw them wither as they fell. So the Vision faded, and the Angels Melted far into the starry sky; By the light upon the eastern Heaven I could see anqther day was nigh. Was it quite a dream? O God! we love Him; All our love, though weak, is given to Him;WVhy is it our hearts have been so hardened? Why is it our eyes have been so dim? Still as for Himself the Infant Jesus Ill His little ones asks food and rest, — Still as for His Mother He is pleading Just as when He lay upon her breast. Jesus, then, and Mary still are with us, - Night will find the Child and Mother near, Waiting for the shelter we deny them, While we tell them that we hold them dear. Help us, Lord! not these Thy poor ones only, They are with us always, and shall be:Help the blindness of our hearts, and teach us In Thy homeless ones to succor Thee. 388 2MILL YS EXPIA TION. MILLY'S EXPIATION. THE PRIEST'S STORY. I. HERE are times when all these terrors Seem to fade, and fade away, Like a nighltmare's ghastly presence In the truthful dawn of day. There are times, too, when before me They arise, and seem to hold In their grasp my very being With the deadly strength of old, Till my spirit quails within me, And my very heart grows cold. II. For I watched when Cold and Hunger, Like wild beasts that sought for prey, With a savage glare crept onward Until men were turned at bay. You have never seen those hunters, Who have never known that fear, When life costs a crust, and costing Even that is still too dear: But, you know, I lived in Ireland In the fatal famine year. III. Yes, those days are now forgotten; God be thanked! men can forget; MILL Y'S EXPIATION. 389 Time's great gift can heal the fevers Cailed Remembrance and Regret. Man despises such forgetting; But I think the Angels know, Since each hour brings new burdens, We must let the old ones go, - Very weak, or very noble Are the few who cling to woe. IV. As a child, I lived in Connaught, And from dawn till set of sun Played with all the peasant-children, So I knew them every one. There was not a cabin near us, But I had my welcome there; Though of money-help in those days We had none ourselves to spare, Yet the neighbors had no trouble That I did not know and share. V. O that great estate! the Landlord Was abroad, a good man too; And the agent was not cruel, But he had hard things to do. As a child I saw great suffering Which I could not understand, So I ewent back as a man there With redress and helping planned; But I found, on reaching Connaught, Thcre was famine in the land. 39o0 MILL YS EXPIA TION. VI. Well, I worked, I toiled, I labored; So, thank God, did many more; But I had a special pity For the place I knew before. It was changed; the old were vanished; Those who had been workers there Were grown old now; and the children, With their sunny eyes and hair, Were a ragged army, fighting Hand to hand with black despair. VII. There were some I sought out, longing For the old familiar face, ]For the hearty Irish welcome To the well-known corner place; So I saw them, and I found it. But of all whom I had known, I cared most to see the Connors: Their poor cabin stood alone In the deep heart of the valley, By the old gray fairy stone. VIII. They were decent people, holding, Though no richer than the rest, Still a place beyond their neighbors, With a tacit, unconfessed Pride - it may have been - that held them From complaint when things went ill: I might guess when work was slacker, But no shadow seemed to chill MILLY'S EXPIATiON. 391 The warm welcome which they offered; It was warm and cheerful still. IX. Yet their home was changed: the father And the mother were no more; And the brothers, Phil and Patrick, Kept starvation from the door. There were many little faces Gathered round the old hearthstone But the children I had played with Were the men and women grown; Phil and Patrick, Kate and Milly, Were the ones whom I had known. x. Kate was grown, but little altered, Just the sunburnt, rosy face, With its merry smile; whose shining Seemed to light the darkest place. But all, young and old, held Milly As their dearest and their best, From the baby orphan-sisters Whom she hushed upon her breast,She it was who bore the burdens, Love and sorrow, for the rest. XI. Yes, I knew the tall slight figure, And the face so pale and fair, Crowned with long, long plaited tresses Of her shining yellow hair; 392 MILL Y' S EXPIA TION. She was very calm and tender, WVarm and brave, yet just and wise, Meeting grief with tender pity, Sin with sorrowful surprise: I have fancied Angels watch us With such sad and loving eyes. XII. Well, I questioned past and future, Heard of plans and hopes and fears; How all prospects grew still darker With the shade of coming years. Milly still deferred her marriage; But the brothers urged of late She would leave them and old Ireland, And at least secure her fate; Michael pleaded too, - but vainly; Milly chose to wait and wait. XIII. Though all liked her cousin Michael,He was steady, a good son, - Yet we wondered at the treasure Which his careless heart had won. Ah, he was not worth her! Milly Must have guessed-our thought in part, For she feigned such special deference For his judgment and his heart: The defiance and the answer Of instinctive woman's art. XIV. But my duties would not let me Stay in one place; I must go MILL Y'S EXPIA TION. 393 Where the want and need were greatest; So I travelled to and fro. And I could not give the bounty Which was meant for all to share, Save in scanty portions, counting What each hamlet had to bear; So my old home and old comrades Had to struggle with despair. xv. I could note at every visit How all suffered more and more; How the rich were growing poorer, The poor, poorer than before. And each time that I returned there, I could see the famine spread; Till I heard of each fresh horror, Each new tale of fear and dread, With more pity for the living, More rejoicing for the dead. XVI. Yet through all the bitter trials Of that long and fearful time, Still the suffering came untended By its hideous sister, Crime. Earthly things seemed grown less potent, Fellow-sufferers grown more dear, Murmurs even hushed in silence, Just as if, in listening fear, While God spoke so loud in sorrow, They all felt He must be near. 394 2MILL Y'S EXPIA TION. XVII. But one day - I well remember HI-ow the warm soft autumn breeze, And the gladness of the sunshine, And the calmness of the seas, Seemed in strange unnatural contrast To the tale of woe and dread Which I heard with painful wonder, - That the agent - I have said That he was not harsh or cruel - Had been shot at, and was dead. XVIII. For I felt in that small hamlet More or less I knew them all, And on some I cared for, surely, Must this bitter vengeance fall; But I little dreamed how bitter, And the grief how great and wide, Till I heard that Michael Connor Was accused, and would be tried For this base and bloody murder; Then I cried out that they lied! XIX. He, who might be weak and reckless, Yet was gentle and humane; He who scarcely had the courage To inflict a needful pain, - Why, it could not be! And Milly, With her honest, noble pride, And her faith and love, God help her! It were better she had died. MILLY'S EXPIATION. 395 So I thought, and thought, and pondered, Till I knew they must have lied. x x. There was want and death and hunger Near me then; but this great crime Seemed to haunt me with its terror, And grow worse and worse with time, Till I could not bear it longer, And I turned my steps once more To the hamlet; did not slacken Till I reached the cabin-door: Then I paused; I never dreaded The kind welcome there before. xxI. So I entered. Kate was sitting By the empty hearth; around Were the children, ragged, hungry, Crotuching silent on the ground. But a wail of grief and sorrow Rose, and Katie hid her face, Sobbing out she had no welcome, For a curse was on the place, And their honest name was covered With another's black disgrace. XXII. Then I soothed her; asked for Milly; And was told she was away; Gone as witness to the trial, And the trial was that day. But all knew, so Katie told me, Hope or comfort there was none; 396 MILL Y' S EXPIA TION. They were sure to find him guilty, And before to-morrow's sun He must die. I dared not loiter, For the trial had begun. XXIII. Yet I asked how Milly bore it; And Kate told me some strange gleam Of wild hope seemed living in her, But all knew it was a dream. Then I mounted; rode on faster, Faster still; the way was long; Hope and anger, fear and pity, Each by turns were loud and strong, And above all, infinite pity For the sorrow and the wrong. XXIV. So I rode and rode, and entered On the crowded market-place. There was wonder, too, and pity Upon many a hungry face; But I pushed on quicker, quicker, Every moment held a fate. As the great town-clock struck mid-day, I alighted at the gate: No, the trial was not over; I was not, thank God, too late, XXV. For I hoped -the chance was meagre - That my true and earnest word Might avail him, if the question Of his former life was stirred; MILL YPS EXPIA TO ~. 397 So the crowd believed: they parted, Let me take a foremost place, Till I saw a shaking figure And a terror-stricken face: Was it guilt, or only terror? Fear of death, or of disgrace? XXVI. But a sudden breathless silence Hushed the lowest whisper there, And I saw a slight young figure Crowned with yellow plaited hair, Rise, and answer as they called her; Rise before them all, and stand With no quiver in her accent, And no trembling in her hand, Just a flush upon her forehead Like a burning crimson brand. XXVII. Slowly, steadily, and calmly, Then the awful words were said, Calling God in Heaven to witness To the truth of what she said. As the oath in solemn order On the reverent silence broke, Some strange terror and misgiving With a sudden start awoke: What fear was it seized upon me.As I heard the words she spoke? XXVIII. As she stood there, looking onward, Onward, neither left nor right, 398 MILL Y'S EXPIATION. Did she see some deadly purpose Buried, hidden out of sight? Did she see a blighting shadow From the cloudy future cast? Or reluctant fadling from her Right and honor, - fading fast All her youth's remembered lessons, All the honest, noble past? XXIX. But her accents never faltered, As she swore the day and time, At the hour of the murder, At the moment of the crime, She had spoken with the prisoner.... Then a gasping joyful sigh Ran through all the court; they knew it, - Now the prisoner would not die.... And I knew that God in Heaven IIad been witness to a lie! XXX. Then I turned and looked at Michael; Saw a rush of wonder stir Through his soul; perplexed, bewildered, He looked strangely up at her. Would he speak? could he have courage? Where she fell, could he be strong? Where she sinned, and sinned to save him, Could he thrust away the wrong? That one moment's strange revulsion Seemed to me an hour long. MILLY'S PEXPIATIN. 399 XXXI. And I saw the sudden shrinking In her brothers; wondering scorn In the glance they cast upon her Showed they knew she was forsworn. They were' stern, by want made sterner; But the spot where Milly came In their hearts was soft and tender For her dear and honored name: Now the very love was hardened, And the honor turned to shanme. XXXII. So I left the place, nor lingered To see Michael, or to feign Joy where joy was mixed so strangely Both with pity and with pain. Many weeks I toiled and labored Far from there, but night and day One sad memory dwelt beside me, On my heart one shadow lay;;Light was faded, glory tarnished, And a soul was cast away. XXXIII. It was evening; and the sunset Glowed and glittered on the seas, When a great ship heaved its anchor, Loosed its sails to meet the breeze, Sailing, sailing to the westward. Eyes were wet and hearts were sore; 400 JJLL Y'S EXPIA TION. Many a heart that left its country, Many a heart upon the shore, Knew that parting was forever, Said farewell for evermore. XXXIV. In that sad and silent evening, On the sunny, quiet beach, Lingered little groups of watchers, But with hearts too full for speech. As I passed, I knew so many, That my heart ached too that night, For the yearning love, that, gazing, Strained to see the last faint sight Of the great ship, sailing westward, Down the track of evening light. XXXV. None were lonely though, - one sorrow Drew that evening heart to heart; Only far from all the others One lone woman stood apart. There was something in the figure, Tall and slender, standing there, That I knew - yet no, I doubted - That forlorn and helpless air; WVlhen a gleam of sunset glory Showed her yellow braided hair. XXXVI. It was Milly: ere I sought her, One who knew her, standing by, Said, "Her people sailed from Ireland, And she stayed, but none knew why. MILL'S EXPIATION. 401 They were strong; in that far country Work such men were sure to find; They had offered to take Milly, Pressed her often, and been kind; They had taken the young, children, Only she was left behind. XXXVII. "Michael, too, was with them: doubly Had his fame been cleared by time; For the murderer, lately dying, Had confessed and owned the crime: And yet Milly, none knew wherefore, Broke her plighted troth to him; Parted, too, with all her loved ones For some strange and selfish whim."... 0, my heart was sore for Milly, And I felt my eyes grow dim. XXXVIII. She is still in Ireland; dwelling Near the old place, and alone; Just the same kind, loving spirit, But the old light heart is flown. When the humble toil is over For her scanty daily bread, Then she turns to nurse the suffering, Or to pray beside the dead: Many, many thankful blessings Fall each day upon her head. XXXIX. There is no distress or sorrow Milly does not try to cheer; 26 402 A- CASTLE IN THE AIR. There is never fever raging But you always find her near: And she knows - at least I think so That I guess her secret pain, Why her Love and why her Sorrow Need be purified from stain, Need in special consecration Be restored to God again. A CASTLE IN TI-IE AIR.. EWit ~BUILT myself a castle, So noble, grand and fair; I bhuilt myself a castle, A castle - in the air. The fancies of my twilights That fade in sober truth, The longing of my sorrow, And the vision of my youth; The plans of joyful futures;.So dear they used to seem; The prayer that rose unbidden, Half prayer - and half a dream; The hopes that died unuttered Within this heart of mine;For all these tender treasures My castle was the shrine. PER PA CEM AD L UCEM. 403 I looked at all the castles That rise to grace the land, But I never saw another So stately or so grand. And now you see it shattered, My castle in the air; It lies, a dreary ruin, All desolate and bare. I cannot build another, I saw that one decay; And strength and heart and courage Died out the self-same day. Yet still, beside that ruin, With hopes as deep and fond, I waited with an infinite longing, Only - I look beyond. PER PACEM AD LUCEM. I DO not ask, O Lord, that life may be A pleasant road; I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me Aught of its load; I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet; I know too well the poison and the sting Of things too sweet. 404 A LEGEND. For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead, Lead me aright - Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleedThrough Peace to Light. I do not ask, 0 Lord, that thou shouldst shed Full radiance here; Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread Without a fear. I do not ask my cross to understand, My way to see; Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand And follow Thee. Joy is like restless day; but peace divine Like quiet night: Lead me, 0 Lord, - till perfect Day shall shine, Through Peace to Light. A LEGEND. I. HE Monk was preaching: strong his earnest word, From the abundance of his heart he spoke, And the flame spread, - in every soul that heard Sorrow and love and good resolve awoke:- A LEGEND. 405 The poor lay Brother, ignorant and old, Thanked God that he had heard such words of gold. II., Still let the glory, Lord, be thine alone,"So prayed the Monk, his heart absorbed in praise: "Thine be the glory: if my hands have sown The harvest ripened in Thy mercy's rays, It was Thy blessing, Lord, that made my word, Bring light and. love to every soul that beard. III. "0 Lord, I thank Thee that my feeble strength Has been so blest; that sinful hearts and cold Were melted at my pleading, - knew at length How sweet Thy service and how safe Thy fold: While souls that loved Thee saw before them rise Still holier heights of loving sacrifice." IV. So prayed the Monk: when suddenly he heard An angel speaking thus: ~ "Know, 0 my Son, Thy words had all been vain, but hearts were stirred, And saints were edified, and sinners won, By his, the poor lay Brother's humble aid Who sat upon the pulpit stair and prayed." 406 BIR TD A Y GIFTS. BIRTHDAY GIFTS. FOR A CHILD. HY do you look sad, my Minnie >fi [ Tell me darling, - for to-day i Is the birthday of Our Lady, And Her children should be gay. What - You say that all the others, Alice, Cyril, Effie, Paul, All had got a gift to give Her, Only you had none at all. Well, dcear, that does seem a pity: Tell me how it came about That the others bring a present, And my Minnie comes without. Alice has a lovely Banner, All embroidered blue and gold: - Then you know that sister Alice Is so clever and so old. Cyril has his two camellias; One deep red, and one pure white: They will stand at Benediction On the Altar steps to-night. Effie, steady little Effie, Stitching many an hour away, She has clothed a little orphan All in honor of to-day. BIR THDA Y GIFTS. 407 With the skill the good Nuns taught her Angela herself has made Two tall stems of such real lilies, They do all but smell - and fade. Then with look of grave importance Comes our quiet little Paul, With the myrtle from his garden: — He himself is not as tall. Even Baby Agnes, kneeling With half shy, half solemn air, Held up one sweet rose to Mary, Lisping out her tiny prayer. Well, my Minnie, say, how was it? Shall I guess? I think I know All the griefs. Well, I will count them: - First, your rose-tree would not blow; Then the fines have been so many All the pennies melt away; Then for work - I know my Minnie Cares so very much for play, That these little clumsy fingers. Searcely yet have learnt to sew, Still less all the skilful fancies Angela and Alice know. Yet my Minnie can't be treated Quite as Baby was to-day, When Mamma or Alice gave her Something just to give away. 40o BIR THDA Y GIFTS. Well, my darling, there are many Who have neither time nor skill, Gold nor silver, yet they offer Gifts to Mary if they will. There are ways - Our Lady knows them, And Her children all should know IIow to find a flower for Mary Underneath the deepest snow; I-How to make a lovely garland, Winter though it be and cold; How to buy the rarest offering, Costing - something - but not gold; How to buay, and buy it dearly, Gifts that She will love to take; Nor to grudge the cost, l)ut give it Cheerfully for Mary's sake. Does that seem so strange, my darling? Nay dear, it is nothing new; All- can give Her noble presents,Shall I tell you of a few? What were those the Magi offered, Frankincense and gold and myrrh: - Minnie thinks that Saints and Monarchs Are quite different from her!... Sometimes it is hard to listen To a word unkind or cold And to smile a loving answer: Do it - and you give eIcr gold. BIR TIIDA Y GIFTS. 409 Thoughts of Her in work or playtime, Those small grains of incense rare, Cast upon a burning censer, Rise in perfumed clouds of prayer. There are sometimes bitter fancies, Little murmurs that will stir Even a loving heart:- but crush them And you give Our Lady myrrh. Give your little crosses to her, Which each day, each hour befall; They remind Her of Her Jesus, So she loves them best of all. Some seem very poor and worthless, Yet however small and slight, Given to her by one who loves her, They are precious in her sight. One may be so hard to carry That your hands will bleed and smart: — Go and take it to Her Altar, Go and place it in her heart; Check your tears and try to love it, Love it as His sacred will: So you set the cross with jewels, Make your gift more precious still. There are souls - alas! too many - Who forget that Jesus flied, Who forget that sin forever Is the lance to pierce His side. BIR THDA Y GIFTS. Hearts that turn away from Jesus; Sins that scourge Him and betray; Cold and cruel souls that even Crucify Him day by day. Ah! poor sinners! Mary loves them, And she knows no royal gem Half so noble or so precious As the prayer you say for them; Or resign some little pleasure, Give it her instead, to win Help for some poor soul in peril, Grace for some poor heart in sin, Mercy for poor sinners, - pleading For their souls as for your own;So you make a crown of jewels Fit to lay before Her throne. Flowers - why I should never finish If I tried to count them too, — If I told you how to know them, In what garden-plot they grew. Yet I think my darling guesses They are emblems, and we trace In the rarest and the loveliest Acts of love and gifts of grace. Modest violets, meek snowdrops, Holy lilies white and pure, Faithful tendrils - herbs for healingIf they only would endure! A BEGGAR. 4I I And they will,- such flowers fade not; They are not of mortal birth; And such garlands given to Mary Die not like the gifts of Earth. Well, my Minnie, can you tell me You have still no gift to lay At the feet of your dear Mother, Any hour, any day? Give Her now - to-day - forever, One great gift,- the first, the best, - Give your heart to Hier, and ask her How to give her all the rest. A BEGGAR..2~ BEG of you, I beg of you, my brothers, For my need is very sore; Not for gold and not for silver do I ask But for something even more: From the depths of your hearts pity let it bePray for me. I beg of you whose robes of radiant whiteness Have been kept without a stain; Of you who, stung to death by serpent Pleasure, Found the healing Angel Pain: Whether holy or forgiven you may be - Pray for me. 4I2 A BEGGAR. I beg of you calm souls whose wondering pity Looks at paths you never trod: I beg of you who suffer - for all sorrow Must be very near to God - And the need is even greater than you see - Pray for me. I beg of you, 0 children, for IHe loves you, And He loves your plrayers the best: Fold your little hands together, and ask Jesus That the weary may have rest, That a bird caulgllt in a net may be set freePilay for me. I beg of you who stand before the Altar, Whose anointed hands upraise All the sin and all the sorrow of the Ages, All the love and all the praise, And the glory which was always and shall bePray for me. I beg of you -of you who through Life's battle Our dear Lord has set apart, That while we who love the peril are made captives, Still the Church may have its Heart Which is fettered that our souls may be set free - Pray for me. I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers, For an alms this very day; I am standing on your doorstep as a Beggar Who will not be turned away, And the Charity you give my soul shall bePray for me! LINKS WITH HEA.VEN. 413 LINKS WITH HEAVEN., > UR God in Heaven, from that holy place, m:g/gi l i m To each of us an Angel guide has given;!k-~,~ But Mothers of dead children have more grace, - For they give Angels to their God and Heaven. How can a Mother's heart feel cold or weary Knowing her dearer self safe, happy, warm? How can she feel her road too dark or dreary, Who knows her treasure sheltered from the storm. How can she sin? Our hearts may be unheeding, Our God forgot, our holy Saints defied; But can a mother hear her dead child pleading, And thrust those little angel hands aside?'Those little hands stretched down to draw her ever Nearer to God by mother love:- we all Are blind and weak, yet surely she can never, With such a stake in Heaven, fail or fall. She knows that when the mighty Angels raise Choruls in Heaven, one little silver tone Is hers forever, that one little praise, One little happy voice, is all her own. We may not see her sacred crown of honor, But all the Angels flitting to and'fro 4I4 IOJIE'LESS. Pause smiling as they pass, - they look upon her As mother of an angel whom they know, One whom they left nestled at Mary's feet, - The children's place in I-Heaven, - who softly sings A little chant to please them, slow and sweet, Or smiling strokes their little folded wings; Or gives them Her white lilies or Her beads To play with: -yet, in spite of flower or song, They often lift a wistful look that pleads And asks Her why their mother stays so long. Then our dear Queen makes answer she will call Her very soon: meanwhile they are beguiled To wait and listen while'She tells them all A story of Her Jesus as a child. Ah, Saints in I-Heaven may pray with earnest will And pity for their weak and erring brothers: Yet there is prayer in Heaven more tender still, - The little Children pleading for their Mothers. HOMELESS. T is cold, dark midnight, yet listen To that patter of tiny feet! Is it one of your dogs, fair lady,' VWho whines in the bleak cold street? Is it one of your silken spaniels Shut out in the snow and the sleet? II OM1LL ESS. 405 My dogs sleep warm in their baskets, Safe from the darkness and snow; All the beasts in our Christian England, Find pity wherever they go - (Those are only the homeless children Who are wandering to and fro). Look out in the gusty darkness,I have seen it again and again, That shadow, that flits so slowly Up and down past the window pane:It is surely some criminal lurking Out there in the frozen rain? Nay, our criminals all are sheltered, They are pitied and taught and fed: That is only a sister-woman Who has got neither food nor bed, - And the Night cries, " Sin to be living," And the River cries, "Sin to be dead." Look out at that farthest corner Where the wall stands blank and bare:Can that be a pack which a Pedler Has left and forgotten there? His goods lying out unsheltered Will be spoilt by the damp night-air. Nay; — goods in our thrifty England Are not left to lie and grow rotten, For each man knows the market value Of silk or woollen or cotton... But in counting the riches of England I think our Poor are forgotten. 4 6 HOMELESS. Our Beasts and our Thieves and our Chattels Have weight for good or for ill; But the Poor arle only His image, His presence, His word, His will; — And so Lazarus lies at our doorstep And Dives neglects him still. Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.