r I //^rr^t/Zf fmes a day the spark divine Answers to the Gods who gave ; Fierce the hot flames pant and shine In the bruis'd breast of the slave ! LXXVI. Changeless stand the Gods ! — nor he Knows he answers their behest ; Feels the might of their decree In the blind rage of his breast. LXXVII. Tyrants ! tremble when ye tread Down the servile Helot clods,; Under despot heel is bred The white anger of the Gods ! LXXVIII. Thro' the shackle-canker'd dust, Thro' the gyv'd soul, foul and dark, Force they, changeless (iods and just ! Up the bright, eternal spark. 36 THE HELOT, LXXIX. Till, like lightnings vast and fierce, On the land its terror smites ; Till its flames the tyrants pierce, Till the dust the despot bites I LXXX. Day was at its chief unrest, Stone from stone the Helot rose ; Fix'd his eyes — his naked breast Iron-wall'd his inner throes. LXXXI. Rose-white in the dusky leaves. Shone the frank-ey'd Spartan child ; Low the pale doves on the eaves. Made their soft moan, sweet and wild. LXXXII. Wand'ring winds, fire-throated, stole, Sybils whisp'ring from their books ; With the rush of wine from bowl, Leap'd the tendril-darken'd brooks. LXXXII I. As the leathern cestus binds Tense the boxer's knotted hands ; So the strong wine round him winds, Binds his thews to iron bands. THE HELOT. 37 LXXXIV. Changeless are the (jods — and bred All their wrath divine in him I Bull-like fell his furious head, Swell'd vast cords on breast and limb. LXXXV, As loud-flaming stones are hurl'd From foul craters — thus the gods Cast their just wrath on the world, From the mire ot Helot clods. LXXXVl. Still the furious Helot stood, Staring thro' the shafted space ; Dry-lipp'd for the Spartan blood, He of scourg'd Achea's race. LXXXVII. Sprang the Helot — roar'd the vine, Rent from grey, long-wedded stones- From pale shaft and dusky pine, Heat the fury of his groans. LXXXVII I, Thunders inarticulate : VV^ordless curses, deep and wild ; Reach'd the long pois'd sword of Fate, To the Spartan thro' his child. 38 THE HELOT. LXXXIX. On his knotted hands, upflung O'er his low'r'd front — all white, Fair young Hermos qiiivVing hung; As the discus flashes i)right xc. In the player's hand — the boy. Naked — blossom-pallid lay ; Rous'd to lust of bloody joy, Throbb'd the slave's embruted clay. xci. Loud he laugh'd — ^the father sprang From the Spartan's iron mail ! Late — the bubbling death-cry rang On the hot pulse of the gale ! XCII. As the shining discus flies, From the thrower's strong hand vvhirl'd \ Hermos cleft the air— his cries Lance-like to the Spartan hurl'd. XCIII. As the discus smites the ground, Smote his golden head the stone ; Of a tall shaft — burst a sound And but one — his dying groan ! THE HELOT. S9 XCIV. Lo ! the tyrant's iron niii^^hi : Lo ! the Helot's yokes and chain- .' Slave-slain in the throbbing light Lay the sole child of his veins. xcv. Laugh'd the Helot loud and full, Gazing at his tyrant's face ; Low'r'd his front like captive bull, Bellowing from the fields of Thrace. xcvi. Rose the pale shaft redly flush'd. Red with Bacchic light and blood ; On its slone the Helot rush'd — Stone the tyrant Spartan stood. XCVII. Lo I the magic of the wine From far marsh ot Amyclae ! Bier'd upon the ruddy vine, Spartan dust and Helot lay ! XCVIII. Spouse of Bacchus reel'd the day, Red track'd on the throbbing sods ; Dead — but free — the Helot lay, Just and changeless stand the Gods I MALCOLM'S KATIE: A LOVE STORY. Part L Max plac'd a ring on little Katie's hand, A silvei ring that he had beaten out From that same sacred coin — first \vell-i)riz'd wage For boyish labour, kept thro' many years. " See, Kate," he said, " I had no skill to shape Two hearts fast bo.md togethtr, so I grav'd Just K. and M., for Katie and for Max." " But, look ; you've run the lines in such a way, That M. is part of K., and K. of xM.," Said Katie, smiling. " Did you mean it thus ? I like it better than the doulile hearts." " Well, well," he said, " but womankmd is wise ! Yet tell me, dear, will such a prophecy Not hurt you sometimes, when 1 am away ? Will you not seek, keen ey'd, for some small break In those deep lines, to part "ihe K. and M. For you ? Nay, Kate, look down amid the globes Of those large lilies tnat our light canoe Divides, ?.nH see Witt. in the polish'd pool v4 o) A LOVE STORY. 41 I'liat small, rose face of yours, — so dear, so fair, — A seed of love U) cleave into a rock. And bourgeon ihenre until the granite splits Before its subtle strength. I beinu gone — Poor soldier of liie axe — to bloodless fields, (Inglorious battles, whctl^.er lost or won). That sixteen sumnierd heart of yours may say : " ' I but was buddin:^, and 1 did not know My core was crimson and my perfume sweet ; I did not know how choice a thing I am ; I had not seen the sun, and blind I sway'd To a strong wind, and thought because I sway'd, 'Twas to the wooer ot the perfect rose — That strong, wald winrl has swept beyond my ken — The breeze 1 love sighs thro' my ruddy leaves.'" " O, words !" said Katie, blushing, ''only words ! You build them u[) that 1 may j)iish them dov/n ; If hearts are flovv'rs, I know that flow'rs can root — Bud, blossom, die — all in the same lov'd soil ; They do so in my garden. I have made Vour heart my garden. If I am a bud Anti only feel unfoldment — feebly stir Within my leaves ; wait patiently ; some June, 111 blush a full-blown rose, and queen it, dear, In your lov'd garden. rho' I be a bud, My roots strike deep, and turn from that dear soil Would shriek like m.tudrakes — those witch things I read Ot in your quaint old books. Are you content?' *• Yes — crescent-wise — but not to round, full moon. Look at yon hill that rounds so gently up From the wide lake; a lover king it looks, 42 MA L COLM \S KA I IK. In cloth of gold, gone from his bride and (juccn ; And yet delay'd, because her silver locks Catch in his gilded fringes ; his shoulders sweep Into blue distance, and his gracious crest. Not held too high, is phirn'd with maplL* groves ; — One of your father's farms. A mighty man. Self-hewn from rock, remaining rock through all." " He loves me. Max," said Kui^ : *' Yes, I know — A rock is cup to many a crystal spring. Well, he is rich ; those misty, peak-roofd barns — Leviathans rising from red seas of grain — Are full of ingots, shaped like grains of wheal. His flocks have golden fleeces, and his herds Have monarchs worshipful, as was the calf .\aron call'd from ihe furnace ; ar.d his ploughs, Like Genii chained, snort o'er his mighty fields. He has a voice in Council and in Church — " " He work'd for all," said Katie, somewhat pain'd. " Aye, so, dear love, he did ; I heard him t<^li How the first field upon his farm was ploughed. He and his brother Reuben, stalwart lads, Yok'd themselves, side by side, to the new plough ; Their weaker father, in the grey of life (But rather the wan age of poverty Than many winters), in large, gnarl'd hands The plunging handles held ; with mighty strains They drew the ripping beak through knotted sod, Thro' tortuous lanes of blacken'd, smoking stumps ; And past great flaming brush heaps, sending out Fierce summers, beating on their swollen brows. O, such a battle ! had we heird of serfs A LOVE STORY. 43 Driven to like hot conflict witii the soil, Armies had march'd and navies switdy sail'd To burst their gyves. But here's the little point — The polish'd di'mond i)ivot on which spins The wheel of Difference — they own'd the rugged soil, And fought for love — dear love of wealth and pow'r, And honest ease and fair esteem of men • One's blood heats at it !'" " Yet you said sucli fields Were all inglorious," Katie, wondering, said. " Inglorious ? yes ; they make no promises Of Star or Garter, or the thundering guns That tell the earth her warriors are dead. Inglorious I aye, the battle done and won Means not — a throne propped up with bleaching bones ; A country sav'd with smoking seas of blood ; A flag torn from the foe with wounds and death ; Or Commerce, with her housewife toot upon Colossal bridge of slaughter'd savages, The Cross laid on her brawny shoulder, and In one sly, mighty hand her reeking svvc^rd ; And in the other .dl the woven cheats From her dishonest ' oms. Nay, none of these. It means — four walls, perhaps a lowiy roof; Kine in a peaceful posture ; modest fields ; A man and woman standing hand in hind In hale old age, who, looking o'er the land, Say : ' Thank the Lord, it all is mme and thine T It means, to such ihew'd warriors of the Axc As your own father ; — well, it means, sweet K.iie, Outspreading circles of increasing gold, A name of weight ; one little dauL'hrcr heir. 44 MALCOLM'S KATIE. Who must not wed ihe owner of an axe, Who owns naught else but some dim, dusky woods In a far land ; two arms indifferent strong — ' "And Kaiie's heart,'' said Ratie, with a smile ; For yet she stood on that smooth, violet plain, Where nothing shades the sun ; nor quite believed Those blue peaks closing in were aught but mist VV^hich the gay sun could scatter with a glance. For Max, he late had touch'd their stones, but yet He saw them seam'd with gold and precious ores, Rich with hill flow'rs and musical with rills. " Or that same bud that will be Katies heart, Against the time your deej), dim woods are clear'd, And I have wrought my father to relent." " How will you move him, sweet ? why, he will rage And fume and anger, striding o'er his fields, Until the last bought king ot herds lets down His lordly front, and rumbling thunder from His polish'd chest, returns his chiding tones. How will you move him, Katie, tell me how ?" " I'll kiss him and keep still -that way is sure,"' Said Katie, smiling. '" I have often tried." "God speed the kiss,'' said Max, and Katie sighd, W^ith pray'rful palms close seal'd, " God speed the axe !" O, light canoe, where dost thou glide ? Below thee gleams no silver'd tide, But concave heaven's chiefest pride. W LOVE STOKY. 45 Abuve thee burns Kve's rosy bar ; Below thee tiirobs her darling star ; Deep 'neath thy keel her round worlds are I Above, below. () sweet surprise, To gladden happy lover's eyes ; No earth, no wave — all jewelld skies ! Part II. The South Wind laid his moccasins aside, Broke his gay calumet of flow'rs, and cast His useless wampun, beaded with cool dews, Far from him, northward ; his long, ruddy spear Flung sunward, whence it came, and his soft locks Of warm, fine haze grew silver as the birch. His Wigwam of green leaves began to shake ; The crackling rice-beds scolded harsh like squaws ; The small ponds pouted uj) their silver lips ; The great lakes ey'd the mountains, whisperd " Ugh !'" " Are ye so tall, O chiefs ? Not taller than Our plumes can reach." And rose a little way, As panthers stretch to try their velvet limbs. And then retreat to purr and bide their time. At morn the sharp breath of the night arose From the wide prairies, in deep-struggling seas. 4'J MALCOLM'S A'AT/i.. In rolling breakers, bursting to the sky ; In tumbling surfs, all yellow'd laintly ihro' Wiiti the low sun — in mad, condicting crests, Voic'd with low thunder irom the hairy throats Of the mist-buried herds ; and tor a man To stand amid the cloudy roll and moil, The phantom waters breaking overhead, Shades of vex'd billows bursting on his breast, Torn caves of mist walld with a sudden gold, Reseal'd as swift as seen — bioad, shaggy fronts, Fire-ey'd and tossing on impatient horns The wave impalpable — was but to think lA. dream of phantoms held him as he stood. The late, last thunders of tlie summer crash'd, Where shrieked great eagles, lords of naked cliffs. The pulseless forest, lock'd and interlock'd So closely, bough vvitn bough, and leaf with leaf, So serf'd by its (Avn wealth, that while from high The moons of summer kiss'd its green gloss'd locks ; And round its knees the merry West Wind danc'd ; And round its ring, compacted emerald ; The south wind crept on moccasins of fiame ; And the red tingers of th' impatient sun Pluck'd at its outmost fringes — its dim veins Beat with no life — its deep and dusky heart, In a deep trance of shadow, felt no throb To such soit wooing answer : thro' its dream Brown rivers of deep waters sunless stole ; Small creeks sprang from its mosses, and amaz'd, Like children in a wigwam curtain'd close Above the great, dead heart of some red chief, A LuVE STORY. 47 Slipp'd on soft fcei, .swilt >ualing through the gloom, Eager for light and for the frolic winds. In this shrill moon the ^couts of winter ran From the ice-belted north, and whistling shafts Struck majjle and struck sumach — and a blaze Ran swift from leaf to leaf, from be ugh to bouQ;h ; Till round the /oresl tlash'd a belt of tlame And inward lick'd its tongues of red and gold To the deep, tranied inmost heart of all. Rous'd the still heart — but all too late, too late. Too late, the branches welded fast with leaves, Toss'd, loosen'd, to the winds — too late the sun Pour'd his last vigor to the deep, dark cells Of the dim wood. The keen, two-bladed Moon Of Falling Leaves roU'd up on crested mists And where the lush, rank boughs had foiled the sun In his red prime, her pale, sharp fingers crej)t After the wind and felt about the moss, And seern'd to pluck from shrinking twig and stem The burning leaves — while groan'd the shudd'ring wood. Who journey'd where the airies made a pause, Saw burnish'd ramparts flaming in the sun, With beacon fires, tall on their rustling walls. And when the vast, horn'd herds at sunset drew Their sullen misses into one black cloud. Rolling thund'rous o'er the quick pulsating plain, They seem'd to sweep between two fierce red suns Which, hunter-wise, shot at their glaring balls Keen shafts, with scarlet feathers and gold barbs, By round, small lakes with thinner forests fring'd. More jocund wood': that sung about the feet 48 • MALCOLM'S KATIE. And crept along the shoulders of great clifts ; The warrior stags, with does and iripping fawns, Like shadows black upon the throbbing mist Of Evening's rose, flash'd thro' the singing woods - Nor tim'rous, sniff'd the spicy, cone-breath'd air ; For never had the patriarch of the herd Seen limn'd against the farthest rim of light Of the low-dipping sky, ihe plume or bow Of the red hunter ; n(3r when stoop'd to drink, Had from the rustHni' rice-beds heard the shaft Of the still hunter hidden in its spears ; His bark canoe close-knotted in its bronze, His form as stirless as the brooding air, His dusky eyes, too, fix'd, unwinking, fires ; His bow-siring tighten'd till it subtly sang To the long throbs, and leaping pulse that roll'd x\nd beat within his knotted, naked breast. There came a morn. The Moon of Falling Leaves, With her twin silver blades had only hung Above the low set cedars of the swamp For one brief quarter when the sun arose Lusty with light and full of summer heat, And {pointing with his arrows at the blue, Clos'd, wigwam curtains of the sleeping moon, Laugh'd with the noise of arching cataracts. And with the dove-like cooing of the woods. And with the shrill cry of the diving loon And with the wash of saltless, rounded seas. And jnock'd the white moon of the Falling Leaves. " Esa ! esa ! shame upon you. Pale Face ! '' Shame upon you, moon of evil witches I A LOl'K S'/VA'V. 49 Have you kill'd the happy, laughing Summtr ? Have you slain the mother of the Flowers With your icy spells of might and magic ? Have you laid her dead within my arms ? Wrapp'd her, mocking, in a rainbow blanket Drovvn'd her in the frost mist of your anger ? She is gone a little way before me ; Gone an arrow's flighl beyond my vision ; She will turn again and come to meet me, With the ghosts of all the slain flowers, In a blue mist round her shining tresses ; In a blue smoke in her naked forests — She will linger, kissing all the branches, She will linger, touching all the places, Bare and naked, with her golden lingers. Saying, ' Sleep, and dream of me, my children : ' Dream of me, the mystic Indian Summer ; ' I, who, slain by the cold Moon of Terror, * Can return across the path of Spirits, ' Bearing still my heart of love and fire ; ' Looking with my eyes of warmth and splendour ; ' Whisp'ring lowly thro' your sleep of sunshine. * I, the laughing Summer, am not turn'd ' Into dry dust, whirling on the prairies, — * Into red clay, crush'd bei^eath the snowdrifts. ' I am still the mother of sweet flowers * Growing but an arrow's flight beyond you — * In the Happy Hunting Ground — the quiver * Of great Manitou, where all the arrows * He has shot from his great bow of Pow'r, ' With its clear, bright, singing cord of Wisdom, 50 MALCOLM'S KATIE. " ' Are re-galher'd, plum'd again and bri^'hten'd, " ' And shot out, re-barb'd .vith Love and Wisdom ; " ' Always shot, and evermore returning. " ' Sleep, my children, smiling in your heart-seeds " ' At the spirit words of Indian Summer !'" " Thus, O Moon of Falling Leaves, I mock you ! '* Have you slain my goid-ey'd squaw, the Summer?" The mighty morn strode laughing up the land, And Max, the labourer and the lover, stood Within the forest's edge, beside a tree ; The mossy king of all the woody tribes. Whose clatt'ring branches rattl'd, shuddering, As the bright axe cleav'd moon-like thro' the air. Waking strange thunders, rousing eclioes link'd From the full, lion-throated roar, to sighs Stealing on dove-wings thro' the distant aisles. Swift fell the axe, swift foUow'd roar on roar. Till the bare woodland bellow'd in its rage, As the first-slain slow toppl'd to his fall. " O King of Desolation, art thou dead ?" Tliought Max, and laughing, heart and lips, leap'd on The vast, prone trunk. " And have 1 slain a King ? " Above his ashes will I build my house — No slave beneath its pillars, but — a King !" Max wrought alone, but for a half-breed lad. With tough, lithe sinews and deep Indian eyes. Lit with a Gallic sparkle. Max, the lover, found The labourer's arms grow mightier day by day — More iron-welded as he slew the trees ; And with the constant yearning of his heart Towards little Kate, part of a world away. A LOVE STORY. S» His young soul grew and shew'd a virile front, Full-muscl'd and large statur'd, like his flesh. Soon the great heaps of brush were builded high, And like a victor. Max made pause to clear His battle-field, high strewn with tangl'd dead. Then roar'd the crackling mountains, and their fires Met in high heaven, clasping flame with flame. The thin winds swept a cosmos of red sparks Across the bleak, midnight sky ; and the sun Walk'd pale behind the resinous, black smoke. And Max car'd little for the blotted sun. And nothing for the startl'd, outshone stars ; For Love, once set within a lover's breast, Has its own San — its own peculiar sky. All one great daff"jdil — on which do lie The sun, the moon, the stars — all seen at once. And never setting ; but all shining straight Into the faces of the trinity, — The one belov'd, the lover, ai.d sweet Love ! It was not all his own, the axe-stirr'd waste. In these new diys men spread about the earth, With wings at heel — and now the settler hears. While yet his axe rings on the primal woods, The shrieks of engines rushing o'er the wastes ; Nor parts his kind to hew his fortunes out. And as one drop glides down the unknown rock And the bright-threaded stream leaps after it, With welded billions, so the settler finds His solitary footsteps beaten out, With the quick rush of panting, human waves Upheav'd by throbs of angry poverty. 52 MALCOLM'S KAlIi:. And driven by keen blasts of hunger, from Their native strands — so stern, so dark, so dear ! O, then, to see the troubl'd, groining waves, Throb down to peace in kindly, valley beds ; Their turbid bosoms clearing in the calm Of sun-ey'd Plenty — till the stars and moon. The blessed sun himself, has leave to shine And laugh in their dark hearts ! So shanties grew Other than his amid the blacken'd stumps ; And children ran with little twigs and leaves And flung them, shouting, on the forest inres, Where burn'd the forest kings — and in the glow Paus'd men and women when the day was done. There the lean weaver ground anew his axe, Nor backward look'd upon the vanish'd loom, But forward to the ploughing of his fields ; And to the rose of Plenty in the cheeks Of wife and children — nor heeded much the pangs Of the rous'd muscles tuning to new work. The pallid clerk look'd on his blister'd palms And sigh'd and smil'd, but girded up his loins And found new vigour as he felt new hoj;e. The lab'rer with train'd muscles, grim and grave, Look'd at the ground and wonder'd in his soul, What joyous anguish stirr'd his darken'd heart. At the mere look of the familiar soil, And found his answer m the words — " Mine oivn /" Then came smooth-coated men, with eager eyes, And talk'd of steamers on the cliff-bound lakes ; And iron tracks across the prairie lands ; And mills to crush the quartz of wealthy hills ; A LOVE STORY. 53 And mills to saw the great, wide-arm'd trees ; And mills to grind the singing stream of grain ; And with such busy clamour mingled still The throbbing music of the bold, bright Axe — The steel tongue of the Present, and the wail Of falling forests — voices of the Past. Max, social-s(>ui'd, and wiih his practised thews, Was happy, boy-like, thinking much of Kate, And speaking of her to the women-folk ; Who, mostly, happy in new honeymoons Of h()|)e themselves, were ready still to hear The thrice told t.de of Katie's sunny eyes And Kitie's yellow hair, and household ways : And heard so often, *' There shall stand our home — " On yonder sl')j)e, with vines about the door !" That the good wives were almost made to see The snowy walls, deep porches, and the gleam Of Kane's garments flitting through the rooms ; And the black slope all bristling with burn'd stumps Was known amongst them all as *' Max's House." O, Love builds on the azure sea. And Love builds on the golden sand ; And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud, And sometimes Love builds on the land. O, if Love build on sparkling sea— And if Love build on golden strand- 5* MALCOLM'S KATIE. And if Love build on rosy cloud — To Love these are the solid land. O, Love will build his lily walls, And Love his pearly roof will rear,- On cloud or land, or mist or sea — Love's solid land is everywhere ! Part IlL The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stood Square shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill, With many windows looking everywhere ; So that no distant meadow might lie hid, Nor corn-field hide its gold — nor lowing herd Browse in far pastures, out of Malcolm's ken. He lov'd to sit, grim, grey, and somewhat stern, And chro' the smoke-clouds from his short clay pipe Look out upon his riches ; while his thoughts Swung back and forth between the bleak, stern past, And the near future, for his life had come To that close balance, when, a pendulum, The memory swings between the " Then" and " Now"; His seldom speech ran thus two diff'rent ways : " When I was but a laddie, thus 1 did"; A LOVE STORY. %l Or, " Katie, in the Fall I'll see to build " Such fences or such sheds about the place ; "And next year, please the Lord, another barn " Katie's gay garden foam'd about the walls, 'Leagur'd the prim-cut modern sills, and rush'd Up the stone walls — and broke on the peak'd roof. And Katie's lawn was like a Poet's sward. Velvet and sheer and di'monded with dew ; For such as win their wealth most aptly take Smooth, urban ways and blend them with their own ; And Katie's dainty raiment was as fine As the smooth, silken petals of the rose ; And her light feet, her nimble mind and voice. In city schools had learn'd the city's ways, And grafts upon the healthy, lovely vine They shone, eternal blossoms 'mid the fruit. For Katie had her sceptre in her hand And wielded it right queenly there and here. In dairy, store-room, kitchen — ev'ry spot Where women's ways were needed on the place. And Malcolm took her through his mighty fields. And taught her lore about the change of crops ; And how to see a handsome furrow plough'd ; And how to choose the cattle for the mart ; And how to know a fair day's work when done \ And where to plant young orchards ; for he said, " God sent a lassie, but I reed a son — " Bethankit for His mercies all the same." And Katie, when he said it, thought of Max — Who had been gone two winters and two springs, And sigh'd, and thought, " Would he not be your son ?'' 56 MALCOLM'S KATIE. But all in silence, for she had too much Of the firm will of Malcolm in her soul To think of shaking that deep-rooted rock ; But hop'd the crystal current of his love For his one child, increasing day by day, Might fret with silver lip, until it wore Such channels thro' the rock, that some slight stroke Of circumstance might crumble down the stone. The wooer, too, had come. Max prophesied ; Reputed wealthy ; with the azure eyes And Saxon-gilded locks — the fair, clear face, And stalwart form that most women love. And with the jewels of some virtues set On his broad brow. With fires within his soul He had the wizard skill to fetter down To that mere pink, poetic, nameless glow. That need not fright a flake of snow away — But if unloos'd, could melt an adverse rock Marrow'd with iron, frowning in his way. And Malcolm balanc'd him by day and night ; And with his grey-ey'd shrewdness partly saw He was not one for Kate; but let him come, And in chance moments thought : " Well, let it be — " They make a bonnie pair — he knows the ways " Of men and things : can hold the gear I give, '* And, if the lassie wills it, let it be." And then, upstarting from his midnight sleep, With hair erect and sweat upon his brow. Such as no labor e'er had beaded there ; Would cry aloud, wide-staring thro' the dark — " Nay, nay ; she shall not wed him — rest in peace." A LOVE <;tof:y. Then fully waking, grimly laugh and say : " Why (lid I speik and answer when none spake ?" But still lie staring, wakeful, through the shades ; IJst'ning to the silence, and healing still The ball of Alfred's merits to and fro — Saying, between the silent arguments : " But would the mother hke it, could she know ? " I would there was a way to ring a lad " Like silver coin, and so find out the true ; *' But Kate shall say him ^ Nay' or say him ' Ye.i' " At her own will." And Katie said him " Nay," \n all the maiden, speechless, gentle ways A woman has. But Alfred only laugh'd To his own soul, and said in his wall'd mind : " O, Kate, were I a lover, I might feel " Despair flap o'er my hopes with raven wings ; " Because thy love is eiv'n to other love. " And did 1 Ice — unless 1 gain'd thy love, •' I would disdain the golden hair, sweet lips, '■ Air-blown form and true violet eyes ; " Nor crave the beauteous lamp without the flame ; " Which in itself would light a charnei house. " Unlov'd and loving, I would find the cure " Of Love's despair in nursing Love's disdain — " Disdain of lesser treasure than the whole. *' One cares not much to place against the wheel '* A diamond lacking fl mie — nor loves to pluck " A rose with all its perfume cast abroad '• To the bosom of the gale. Not I, in truth ! " If all man's days are three score years and ten, " He needs raust waste them not, but nimbly seizj 58 MALCOLM'S KATIE, *• The bright consummate blossom that his will •' Calls for most l(^udly. (xone, long gone the days '* When Love within my soul for ever stretch'd '• Fierce hands of flame, and here and there I found " A blossom fitted for him — all up-fill'd " With love as with clear dew — they had their hour " And burn'd to ashes with him, as he droop'd " In his own ruby fires. No Phoenix he, *' To rise again because of Katie's eyes, "'' On dewy wings, from ashes such as his ! " But now, another Passion bids me forth. *' To crown him with the fairest I can find, " And makes me lover — not of Katie's face, " But of her father's riches ! O, high fool, " Who feels the faintest pulsing u{ a wish " And fails to feed it into lordly life ! " So that, when stumbling back to Mother Earth, " His freezing lip may curl in cold disdain " Of those poor, blighted fools who starward stare " For that fruition, nipp'd and scanted here. " And, while the clay, overmasters all his blood — " And he can feel the dust knit with his flesh — " He yet can say to them, ' Be ye content ; " ' I tasted perfect fruitage thro* my life, •' ' Lighted all lamps of passion, till the oil " ' Fail'd from their wicks ; and now, O now, I know " ' There is no Immc^rtality could give " ' Such boon as this — to simply cease to be ! " * There lies your Heaven, O ye d-eaming slaves, " ' If ye would only live to make it so ; " ' Nor paint upon the blue skies lying shades A LOVE STORY. 59 " ' Of — what is no/. Wise, wise and strong the man " * Who poisons that fond haunter of the mind, " ' Craving for a hereafter with deep draughts " ' Of wild dehghts — so fiery, fierce, and strong, " ' That when their dregs are deeply, deeply drain'd, " ' What once was blindly crav'd of pui blind Chance, " * Life, life eternal — throbbing thro' all space, " ' Is strongly loath'd — and with his face in dust, " ' Man loves his only Heav'n — six feet of Earth !' " So, Katie, tho' your blue eyes say me * Nay,' " My pangs of love for gold must needs be fed, " And shall be, Katie, if I know my mind." Events were winds close nest'ling in the sails Of Alfred's bark, all blowing him direct To his wish'd harbour. On a certain day. All set about with roses and with fire ; One of three days of heat which frequent slip, Like triple rubies, in between the sweet, Mild, emerald days of summer, Katie went. Drawn by a yearning for the ice-pale blooms, Natant and shining — firing all the bay With angel fires built up of snow and gold. She found the bay close pack'd with groaning logs, Prison'd between great arms of close hing'd wood. All cut from Malcolm's forests in the west. And floated hith ?r to his noisy mills ; And all stamp'd with the potent "G." and "M.," Which much he lov'd to see upon his goods, The silent courtiers owning him their king Out clear beyond the rustling ricebeds sang, And the cool lilies starr'd the j-hadow'd wave. 6o MALCOLM'S KATIE, " This is a day for lily-love," said Kate, While she made bare the lilies of her feet ; And sang a lily-song that Max had made, That spoke of lilies — always meaning Kate. " While Lady of the silver'd lakes, Chaste Goddess of the sweet, still shrines. The jocund river fitful makes, By sudden, deep gloom'd brakes, Close shelter'd by close weft and woof of vine. Spilling a shadow gloomy-nch as wine, Into the silver throne where thou dost sit, Thy silken leaves all dusky round thee knit ! " Mild soul of the unsalted wave ! White bosom holding golden fire ! Deep as some ocean-hidden cave Are fix'd the roots of thy desire, Thro' limpid currents stealing up, And rounding to the pearly cup Thou dost desire, With all thy trembling heart of sinless fire, But to be nll'd With dew distill'd From clear, fond skies, that in their gloom Hold, floating high, thy sister moon, A 1.0 VE STORY. Pale chalice of a sweet perfume, Whiter-breasted than a dove — To thee the dew is — love ! " 01 Kale bared her little feet, and pois'd herself On the first log close grating on the shore ; And with bright eyes of laughter, and wild hair - A flying wind of gold — from log to log S])ed, laughing as they wallow'd in her track, Like brown-scal'd monsters rolling, as her fool Spiirn'd each in turn with its rose-white sole. A little island, out in middlevvave, With its green shoulder held the great drive brac'd Between it and the mainland ; here it was The silver lilies drew her with white smiles ; And as she touch'd the last great log of all, It reel'd, upstarting, like a column brac'd, A second on the wave — and when it plung'd Rolling upon the froth and sudden foam, Katie had vanish'd, and with angry grind The vast logs roll'd together, — nor a lock Of drifting, yellow hair — an upflung hand, Told where the rich man's chiefest treasure sank Under his wooden wealth. But Alfred, laid With pipe and book upon the shady marge Of the cool isle, saw all, and seeing hurl'd Himself, and hardly knew it, on the logs ; By happy chance a shallow lapp'd the isle On this green bank ; and when his iron arms Dash'd the bark*d monsters, as frail stems of rice, 62 MALCOLM'S KATIE. A little space apart, the soft, slow tide But reach'd his chest, and in a flash he saw Kate's yellow hair, and by it drew .ler up. And lifting her aloft, cried out, *' O, Kale ! " And once again said, " Katie ! is she dead ? " For like the lilies broken by the rough And sudden riot of the armor'd logs, Kate lay upon his hands ; and now the logs Clos'd in upon him, nipping his great chest, Nor could he move to push them off again For Katie in his arms. "And now," he said, '* If none should come, and any wind arise " To weld these woody monsters 'gainst the isle, *' 1 shall be crack'd like any broken twig ; " And as it is, I know not if I die, *•' For I am hurl — aye, sorely, sorely hurt ! " Then look'd on Katie's lily face, and said, *' Dead, dead or living ? Why, an even chance. *' O lovely bubble on a troubl'd sea, " 1 would not thou shoulds't lose thyself again *' In the black ocean whence thy life emerg'd, " But skyward steal on gales as soft as love, " And hang in some bright rainbow overhead, " If only such bright rainbow spann'd the earth." Then shouted loudly, till the silent air Rous'd like a frighten'd bird, and on its wings Caught up his cry and bore it to the farm. There Malcolm, leaping from his noontide sleep, Upstarted as at midnight, crying out, '•She shall not wed him — rest you. wife, in peace !" They found him, Alfred, haggard-ey'd and faint. A LOVE STORY. 63 But holding Katie ever towards the sun, Unhurt, and waking in the fervent heat. And now it came that Alfred being sick Of his sharp hurts and tended b}" them both, With what was hke to love, biding born of thanks, Had choice of hours most politic to woo, And used his deed as one might use the sun, To ripen unmeilow'o fruit ; and from the core Of Katie's gratitude hop'd yet to nurse A fiow'r all to his liking — Katie's love. But Katie's mind was like the plain, broad shield or a table di'mond, nor had a score of sides ; And in its shield, so precious and so plain. Was cut, thro' all its clear d:pths — Max's name. And so she said him "Nay" at last, in words Of such true sounding silver, that, he knew He might not win her at the present hour, But smil'd and thought — " I go, and cunie again ! " Then shall we see. Our three-score years and ten " Are mines of treasure, if we hew tliem deep, '' Nor stop too long in choosing out our tools !" Part IV. From his far wigwam sprang the strong North Wind And rush'd with war-cry down the steep ravines, And wrestl'd with the giants of the woods ; And with his ice-club beat the swelling crests Of the deep watercourses into death, And with his chill foot froze the whirling leaves 64 MALCOLM'S KATIE. or dun and gold and fire in icy banks ; And smote the tall reeds to the hardcn'd earth ; And sent his whistling arrows o'er the plains, Scatt'ring the ling'ring herds — atid sudden paus'd When he had frozen all the running streams, And hunted wiih his war-cry all the things That breath'd about the woods, or roam'd the bleak Bare prairies swelling to the mournful sky, " White squaw," he shouted, troubl'd in his soul, *' I slew the dead, wrestl'd with naked chiefs " Unj)lum'd before, scali)ed of their leafy plumes ; " I bound sick rivers in cold thongs of death, " And shot my arrows over swooning plains, " Bright with the P.iint of death — and lean and bire. " And all the braves of my loud tribe will mock *' A_nd point at me — when our great chief, the Sun, " Relights his Council fire in ihe moon " Of Budding Leaves." " Ugh, ugh ! he is a brave ! " He fights with squaws and takes the scalps of babes ! '' And the least wind will blow his calumet — " FiU'd with the breath of smallest flow'rs — across " The war-paint on my face, and pointing widi " His small, bright pipe, that never moved a spear " Of bearded rice, cry, ' Ugh ! he slays the dead 1' " O, my white squaw, come from thy wigwam grey, " Spread thy white blanket on the twice-slain dead ; " And hide them, ere the waking of the Sun !" High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky, And all was silent in the Wilderness ; A LOVE STORY. In trance of stillness Nature heard her God Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face Wb.ile the Great Worker brooded o'er His work " Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree, What doth thy bold voice promise me ?" " I promise thee all joyous things. That furnish forth the lives of kings ! " For ev'ry silver ringing blow, Cities and palaces shall grow !" " Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree. Tell wider prophecies to me." *' When rust hath gnaw'd me deep and red, A nation strong shall lift his head ! " His crown the very Heav'ns shall smite, ^ons shall build him in his might I" 66 MALCOLM'S KATIE. " Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree ; Bright Seer, help on thy prophecy !" Max smote the snow-weigh'd tree and lightly laugh'd. " See, friend," he cried to one that look'd and smil'd, " My axe and I — we do immortal tasks — We build up nations — this my axe and I !" '* O," said the other with a cold, short smile, " Nations are not immortal ! is there now " One nation thron'd upon the sphere of earth, " That walk'd with the first Gods, and saw " The budding world unfold its slow-leav'd flow'r ? " Nay ; it is hardly theirs to leave behind " Ruins so eloquent, that the hoary sage '• Can lay his hand upon tiieir stones, and say : " ' These once were tlirones !" The lean, lank lion peals '• His midnight thunders over lone, red plains, " Long-ridg'd and crested on their dusty waves, '' With fires from moons red-hearted as the sun ; '* And deep re-thunders all the earth to him. '■ For. far beneath the flame fleck'd, shifting sands, '' Below the roots ot i);)lms, and under stones " Of younger ruins, thrones, tovv'rs and cities '• Honeycomb the earth. The high, solemn walls " Of hoary ruins — their foundings all unknown " (But to the round-ey'd worlds that walk " In the blank paths of Space and blanker Chance). '* At whose stones young mountains wonder, and the seas' " New-silv'ring, deep-set valleys pause and gaze ; .-/ JOVE STORY. 6^ Are rear'd upon old shrines, whose very Gods Were dreams to the shrine-builders, of a time They caught in far-off flashes — as the child Half thinks he can remember how one came And took him in her hand and shew'd him that He thinks, she call'd the sun. Proud ships rear high On ancient billows that have torn the roots Of cliffs, and bitten at the golden lips Of firm, sleek beaches, till they conquer'd all, And sovv'd the reeling earth with salted waves. Wrecks plunge, prow foremost, down still, solemn slopes, And bring their dead crews to as dead a quay ; Some city built before that ocean grew. By silver drops from many a floating cloud, By iceoergs bellowing in their throes ot death. By lesser seas toss'd from their rocking cups, And leaping each to each ; by dew-drops flung From painted sprays, whose weird leaves and flow'rs Are moulded for new dwellers on the earth. Printed m hearts of mountains and uf mines. Nations immortal ? where the well-trimm'd lamps Of long-past ages, when Time seem'd to pause On smooth, dust blotted graves thct, like the tombs Of monarchs, held dead bones and sparkling gems ? She saw no glimmer on the hideous ring Of the black clouds ; no stream ot shar[), clear light From those great torches, passd into the black Of deep oblivion. She seem'd to watch, but she Forgot her long-dead nations. When she stirr'd Her vast limbs in the dawn that forc'd its fire Up the black East, and saw the imperious red i ()th'd by the deadly palms " Of the white, trait'rous frost ; and buried then " Under the snows that till those vast, grey clouds, " Low-sweeping on the fretted forest roof. " And Katie shall believe you false — not dead; " False, false 1 — And 1 ? O, she shall find me true — " True as a fabl'd devil to the soul " He longs for with the heat of all hell's fires. MAL COL jrs KA TIE . " These myths serve well for simile, I see. " And yet — Down, Pity I knock not at my breast, " Nor grope about fo- that dull stone my heart ; " I'll stone thee with it. Pity ! (iet thee hence, " Pity, I'll strangle thee with naked hands ; " For thou dost bear upon thy downy breast " Remorse, shap'd like a serpent, and her fangs " Might dart at me and pierce my marrow thro'. " Hence, beggar, hence — and keep with fools, I say ! " He bleeds and groans I Well, Max, thy God or mine " Blind Chance, here play'd the butcher — 'twas noi I. " Down, hands ! ye shall not lift his tall'n head ; " What cords tug at ye ? What ? Ye'd pluck him up " And staunch his wounds ? There rises in my breast " A strange, strong giant, throwing wide his arms " And bursting all the granite of my heart ! " How like to quiv'ring tlesh a stone may feel ! " Why, it has pangs I I'll none of them. I know " Life is too short for aniruish and for hearts — " So 1 wrestle with thee, giant I and my will " Turns the thumb, and thou shalt take the knife. "Well done ! I'll turn thee on the arena dust, " And look on thee — What ? thou wert Pity's self, " StoTn in my breast ; and I have slaughtji'd thee — " But hist — where hast thou hidden thy fell snake, " Fire-fang'd Remorse ? Not in my breast, 1 know, " For all again is chill and empty there, " And hard and cold — the granite knitted up, " So lie there, Max — poor fond and simple Max, " 'Tis well thou diest : earth's children should not call " Such as thee father — let them ever be .-/ LOVE STORY 73 " Father'd by rogues and villians, fit to cope " With the foul drauon Chance, and the lilack knaves " Who swarm'd in loathsome masses in the dust. •'True Max, lie there, and slumber into death." Part V. Said the high hill, in the morning : " Look on me — " Behold, sw je*^ earth, sweet sister sky, behold "The red flames on my peaks, and how my pines "Are cressets of pure gold ; my quarried scars " Of black crevase and shadow-fill'd canon, •' Are trac'd in silver mist. How on my breast " Hang the soft purjjle fringes of the night ; "Close to my shoulder droops the weary moon, " Dove-pale, into the crimson surf the sun " Drives up before his prow ; and blackly stands "On my slim, loftiest peak, an eagle, with " His angry eyes set sunward, while his cry •' Falls fiercely bai:k from all my ruddy heights ; " And his bald eaglets, in their bare, broad nest, " Shrill pipe their angry echoes : " ' Sun, arise, •' ' And show me that pale dove, beside her uesi. " ' Which I shall strike with piercing beak and tear " 'With iron talons for my hungry young.'" And that mild dove, secure for yet a space. Half waken'd, turns her ring'd and glossy neck To watch dawn's ruby pulsing on her breast, And see the first bright golden motes slip down 74 MAfGOLM'S KATIE. The gnarrd trunks about her leaf-deep nest, Nor sees nor fears the eagle on the peak. " Aye, lassie, sing — I'll smoke my pipe the while, " And let it be a simple, bonnie song, " Such as an old, plain man can gather in " His dulling ear, and feel it slipping thro' '' Tlie cold, dark, stony places of his heart." " Yes, sing, sweet Kate,'' said Alfred in her ear ; *' I often heard you singing in my dreams " When I was far away the winter past." So Katie on the moonlit window lean'd, And in the airy silver of her voice Sang of the tender, blue " Forget-me-not." Could every blossom find a voice, And sing a strain to me ; I know where 1 would place my choice. Which my delight should be. I would not choose the lily tall. The rose from musky grot ; But I would still my minstrel call The blue " Forget-me-not ! " And I on mossy bank would lie Of brooklet, ripp'ling clear ; And she of the sweet azure eye, Close at my lisi'ning ear, Should sing into my soul a strain Might never be forgot — So rich with joy, so rich with pain The blue " Forget-me-not ! " A LOVE STORY, Ah, ev'ry blossom hath a tale With silent grace to tell, From rose that reddens to the gale To modest heather bell ; But O, the tlow'r in ev'ry heart That finds a sacred spot To bloom, with azure leaves apart, Is the " Forget-me-not I" Love plucks it from the mosses green When parting hoi rs are nigh. And places it loves palms between, With many an ardent sigh ; And bluely up from grassy graves In some lov'd churchyard spot. It glances tenderly and waves, The dear " Forjiet-me-not 1 » 75 And with the faint last cadence, stole a glance At Malcolm's soften'd face — a bird-soft touch Let flutter on the rugged silver snarls Of his thick locks, and ^aid her tender lips A second on the iron of his hand. " And did you ever meet," he sudden ask'd Of Alfred, sitting pallid in the shade, " Out by yon unco place, a lad, — a lad " Nam'd Maxwell Gordon ; tall, and straight, and strong ; ** About my size, I take it, when a lad ? " And Katie at the sound of Max's name, First spoken for such space by Malcolm's lips, Trembl'd and started, and let down her brow, Hiding its sudden rose on Malcolm's arm. 1(^ MALCOLM'S KATLE. " Max Gordon ? Yes. Was he a friend of yours ? "' '* No friend of mine, but of the lassie's here — '' How comes he on ? I wager he's a drone, "And never will put honey in the hive." "No drone." said Alfred, laughing ; "when I left " He and his axe were quarr'ling with the woods " And making forests reel — love steels a lover's arm " O, blush that stole from Katie's swelling heart, And with its hot rose brought the happy dew Into her hidden eyes. " Aye, aye I is that the way ? " Said Malcolm, smiling. " Who may be his love?" " In that he is a somewhat simple soul, "Why, 1 suppose he loves — "' he paused, and Kate Look'd up with two "forget-me-nots" for eyes, With eager jewels in their centres set Of happy, happy tears, and Alfred's heart Became a closer marble than before. '• — Why I suppose he loves — his lawful wife." " His wife ! his wife !" said Malcolm, in a maze, And laid his heavy hand on Katie's head ; " Did you two play me false, my little lass? ''Speak and I'll p.trdon ! Katie, lassie, what ? " " He has a wife," said Alfred, "lithe and t)ronz'l, " An Indian woman, comelier than her kind ; "And on her knee a child with yellow locks, " And lake-like eyes of mystic Indian brown. " And so you knew him ? He is doing well." " False, false !" said Katie, lifting up her head. " O, you know noi the Max my father means 1 " " He came from yonder farm-house on the slope." "Some other Max — we speak not of the same." A LOVE STORY. 77 '*' He has a red mark on his temple set." " It matters net — 'tis not the Max we know." " He wears a turquoise ring slung round his ntck. ' '' And many wear them — they are common stones ' " His mother's ring — her name was Helen Wynde." " And there be many Helens who have sons." " O Katie, credit me — it is the man." '■ O not the man ! Why, you have never told " Us of the true soul that the true Max has ; " The Max we know has such a soul, I know." '■ How know you that," my foolish little lass ? Said Malcolm, a storm of anger bound Within his heart, like Sampson with green withs — " Belike it is the false young cur we know !" •'No, no," said Katie, simply, and low-voic'd ; " If he were traitor 1 must needs be false, " P'or long ago love melted our two hearts, " And time has moulded those two hearts in one, " And he is true since I am faithful still." She rose and parted, trembling as she went, Feeling the following steel of Alfred's eyes, And with the icv hand of scorn'd mistrust Searching about the pulses of her heart — Feeling for Max's image in her breast. " To-night she conquers Doubt ; to-morrow's noon " His following soldiers sap the golden wall, " And I shall enter and possess the fort," Said Alfred, in his mind. *' O Katie, child, " Wilt thou be Nemesis, with yellow hair, " To rend my breast ? for I do fe-. i a pulse " Stir when I look into thy pure-barb'd eyes — 78 MALCOLM 'S KA TIE. u O, am I breeding that false thing, a heart? Making my breast all tender for the fangs Of sharp Remorse to plunge their hot fire in. I am a certain dullard ! Let me feel But one faint goad, fine as a needle's point, And it shall be the sj)ur in my soul's side To urge the madd'ning thing across the jags And clitfs of life, into the soft embrace Of that cold mistress, who is constant too, And never flings her lovers from her arms — Not Death, for she is still a fruitful wife, Her spouse the Dead, and their cold marriage yields A million children, born of mould'ring flesh — So Death and Flesh live on — immortal they ! I mean the blank-ey'd queen whose wassail bowl Is brimmd from Lethe, and whose porch is red With poppies, as it waits the panting soul — She, she alone is great ! No scepter'd slave Bowing to blind creative giants, she ; No forces seize her in their strong, mad hands, Nor say, " ' Do this — be that ! ' " Were there a God, His only mocker, she, great Nothingness ! And to her, close of kin, yet lover too. Flies this large nothing that we call the soul." " Doth true Love lonely grow? Ah, no 1 ah, no ! Ah, were it only s». — That it alone might show A LOVE STORY. 79 Its ruddy rose upon its sapful trcee, Then, then in dewy morn, Joy might his brow adorn With Love's young rose as fair and glad as he." But with Love's rose doth blow Ah, woe ! ah, woe ! Truth with its leaves of snow, And Pain and Pity grow With Love's sweet roses on its sapful tree ! Love's rose buds not alone. But still, but still doth own A thousand blossoms cypress-hued to see ! Part VL '' Who curseth Sorrow knows her not at all. Dark matrix she, from which the human soul Has its last birth ; whence, with its misty thews, Close-knitted in her blackness, issues out ; Strong for immortal toil up such great heights, As crown o'er crown rise through Eternity, Without the loud, deep clamour of her wail. The iron of her hands, the biting brine Of her black tears ; the Soul but lightly built Of indeterminate spirit, like a mist Would lapse to Chaos in soft, gilded dreams, As mists fade in the gazing of the sun. 8o MALCOLM'S KATIE. Sorrow, dark mother of the soul, arise I Be crown'd with spheres where thy bless'd children dwell, Who, but for thee, were not. No lesser seat Be thine, thou Helper of the Universe, Than planet on planet pil'd ! — thou instrument, Closeclasp'd within the great Creative Hand I" The Land had put liis ruddy gauntlet on, Of Harvest gold, to (ias:i in Famine's face. And like a vintage wain, deep dy'd with juice. The great moon falt^^r'd up the ripe, blue sky. Drawn by silver stars — like oxen white And horn'd with rays of light — Down the rich land Malcolm's small valleys, till'd with grain, Hp-high, Lay round a lonely hill that fac'd the moon. And caught the wine-kiss of its ruddy hght. A cusp'd, dark wood caught in ils black embrace The valleys and the hill, and from its wilds, Spic'd with dark cedars, cried the Whip-poor-will. A crane,, belated, sail'd across the moon ; On the bright, small, close linked lakes green islets lay, Dusk knots of tangl'd vines, or maple boughs, Or tuft'd cedars, buss'd upon the waves. The gay enamell'd children of the swamp Roll'd a low bass to treble, tinkling notes Of little streamlets leaping from the woods. Close to old Malcolm's mills, two wooden jaws Bit up the water on a sloping floor ; And here, in season, rush'd the great logs down, .7 LOVE STORY. 8i To SL^ek the river winding on its way. In a green sheen, smooth as a Naiad's lock^. The water roli'd between the shudd'ring jiws— Then on t]>e river level roar'd and rejl'd — \w ivory-arm'd conflict with itself. " Look down, ' said Altred, " Katie, lo(^k and sec " How that but j)ictures my mad heart to you. " It tears itself in fighting that mad love " You swear is hopeless — hopeless — is it so ?" " Ah, yes !" said Katie, " ask me not again." " But Katie, Max is false ; no word has come, " Nor any sign from him for many months, " And — he is haj^py with his Indian wife." She lifted eyes fair as the fresh grey dawn With all its dews and promises of sun. " O, Alfred !— saver of my little life — " Look in my eyes and read them honestly." He laugh'd till all the isles and forests laugh'd. " O simple child ! what may the forest flames " See in the woodland ponds but their own fires ? " And have you, Katie, neither fears nor doubts ?' She, with the flow'r soft pinkness of her palm Covered her sudden tears, then quickly said : " Fears — never doubts, for true love never doubts." Then Alfred paus'd a space, as one who holds A white doe by the throat and searches for The blade to slay her. '• This your answer still — •• You doubt not — doubt nut this far love of yours, " Tho' sworn a false young recreant, Fvate, by me ?" "• He is as true as I am," Katie said ; " And did 1 seek for stronger simile, 82 AL4 LCOL M \S KA T/H. '• 1 could not find such in the universe !'" '• And were he dead ? what, Katie, were he dead — " A handful of brown dust, a ilame blown out — " What then would love l)e strongly true to — Naught ?" •' Still true to love my love would be,' she said, And faintly smiling, pointed to the stars, ■' O fool I" said Alfred, stirr'd — as craters rock To their own throes — and over his j)ale lips Roll d flaming stone, his molten heart. "Then, fool — ■' Be true to what thou wilt-— for he is dead. ■■ And there have grown this gilded summer past ■' Grasses and buds from his unburied flesh. •' I saw him dead. I heard his last, loud cry : •• • O Kate !' ring thro' the w^oods ; in truth 1 did." She half-raised up a piteous, pleading hand. Then fell along the mosses at his feet. •' Now will I show I love you. Kate,'' he siid, •' And give you gift of love ; you shall not wake " To feel the arrow, fe ither-deep, within •' Your constant heart. For me, I never meant '' To crawl an hour beyond what time 1 felt " The strange, fang'd monster that they call Remorse " Fold round my waken'd heart. The hour has come ; " And as Love grew, the welded folds of steel '' Slipp'd round in horrid zones. In Love's flaming eyes " Stared its fell eyeballs, and with Hydra head " It sank hot fangs in breast, and brow and thigh. " Come, Kate ! O Anguish is a simple knave " Whom hucksters could outwit with mall trade lies, " When thus so easily his smarting thralls, " May flee his knout ! Come, come, my little Kate ; A LOVE STOA'V. 5^3 " The black porch with its fringe of poppies waits — " A propylaleum hospitably wide. '• No lictors with their tasces at its jaws. '• Its floor as kindly to my hre-vein'd feet " As to thy silver, lilied, sinless ones. '• O you shall slumber soundly, tho' the white, • Wild waters pluck the crocus of your hair ; •' And scaly spies stare with round, lightless eyes " At your small face laid on my stony breast. " Come, Kate ! 1 must not have you wake, dear heart, "To hear you cry, perchance, on your dead Max." He turn'd her still face close upon his breast. And with his lips upon her soft, ring'd hair, Leap'd from the bank, l-->w shelving o'er the knot Ot frantic waters at the long slide's foot. And as the sever'd waters crash'd and smote Together once again, — within the wave- Stunn'd chamber of his ear there j)eard a cry : " O Kate ! stay, madman ; traitor, stay ! O Kite I" Max, gaunt as prairie wolves in famine time. With long drawn sickness, reel'd upon the bank- Katie, new-rescu'd, waking in his arms. On the white riot of the waters gleam'd, The face of Alfred, calm, wath close-seal'd eyes. And blood red on his tem})le where it smote The mossy timbers of the groaning slide. " O God !" said Max, as Katie's opening eyes Looked up to his, slow buddinf,- to a smile .^i ^4 MALCOLM'S KATIE. Of wonder and of bliss, " xMy Kate, my Kate !"' She saw within his eyes a larger soul Than that light spirit that before she knew. And read the meaning of his glance and w(jrds. " Do as you will, my Max. I would not keep '' Vou back with one light-falling finger-tip !" And cast herself from his lirge arms upon The mosses at hi> feet, and hid her face That she might not behold what he would do ; Or lest the terror in her shining eyes Might bind him to her, and prevent his soul Work out its greatness ; and her long, wet hair Drew, mass'd, about her ears, to shut the sound Of the vex'd waters from her anguish'd brain. Max look'd Uj)on her, turning as he look'd. A moment came a voice in Katie's soul : ■' Arise, be not dismay'd, arise and look ; •' If he should perish, 'twill be as a G >d, " For he would die to save his enemy." But answer'd her torn heart : '' I cannot look — ■' 1 cannot look and see him sob and die "In tiiose pale, angry arms. O, let me rest •■ Blind, blind and deaf until the swift pac'd end. " My Max ! O Ood — was that his Katie's name?" Like a pale dove, hawk-hunted, Katie ran, Her fear's beak in her shoulder ; and below, Where the coil'd waters straighten 'd to a stream. Found Max all bruis'd and bleeding on the bank, But smiling with man's triumph in his eyes, When he has on fierce Danger's lion neck Plac'd his right hand and pluck 'd the prey away. A LOr/i .S70A')'. 85 And at his feet lay Alfred, still and wiuic, A willow's shadow tremb'ling on his face. *' There lies the false, fair devil, O my Kate, " Who would have parted us, but could not, Kate I'' " But could not, Max,' said Katie. " Is he dead ?'' But, swift perusing Max's strange, dear face. Close clasp'd against his breast — forgot him straight And ev'ry other evil thing upon The broad green earth. Part Vll. Again rang out the music of the axe. And on the slope, as in his happy dreams, The home of Max with wealth of drooping vines On the rude walls, and in the trellis'd porch Sat Katie, smiling o'er the rich, fresh fields ; And by her side sat Malcolm, hale and strong : Upon his knee a little, smiling child, N im'd — Alfred, as the seal of pardon set Upon the heart of one who sinn'd and woke To sorrow for his sins — ind whom they lov'd With gracious joyousness — nor kept the dusk Of his past deeds between their hearts and his. Malcolm had follow'd with his flocks and herds When Max and Kiiie, hand in hand, went out From his old home ; and now, with slow, grave smile, He said to Max, who twisted Katie's hair About his naked arm, bare from his toil : 86 MAi.COLM'S KATIE. " It minds me of old times, this house of yours ; " It stirs my heart to hearken to the axe, " And hear the windy crash of falling trees ; *' Aye, these fresh forests make an old man young." ■' Oh, yes !" said Max, with laughter in his eyes ; •' And I do truly think that Eden bloom'd '' Deep in the heart of tall, green m iple groves. " With sudden scents of pine from mountain sides " And {)rairies with their breasts against the skies. " And Eve was only little Katie's height." " Hoot, lad 1 you speak as ev'ry Adam speaks " AI)Dut his bonnie Eve ; but what says Kate ?" " O A(iam had not Max's soul,' she said ; " And these wild woods and plains are fairer far " Than Eden's self. O bounteous mothers they ! " Berk'ning pale starvelings with their fresh, green hands, " And with their ashes mellowmg the earth, " That she may yield her increase willingly. " I would not change these wild and rocking woods, " Dotted by little homes of unbirk'd trees, " Where dwell the fleers from the waves of want, - " For the smooth sward of selfish Eden bowers, " Mor — Max for Adam, if I knew my mind !" ^^ OLD SPKNSE. You've seen his place, I reckon, friend ? 'Twas rather kind ov tryin'. The way he made the dollars fly, Such gimcrack things a-buyin' — He spent a big share ov a fortin' On pesky things that went a snortin' And holierin' over all the fields. And ploughin' ev'ry furrow ; We sort ov felt discouraged, for Spense wusn't one to borrow ; An' wus — the old chap wouldn't lend A cent's wuth to his dearest friend ! Good land ! the neighbours seed to wunst Them snortin', screamin' notions Wus jest enough tew drown the yearth In wrath, like roarin' oceans, " An' guess'd the Lord would give old Spense Blue fits for fisjhtin' Pruvidence !" Spense wus thet harden'd ; when the yearth Wus like a bak'd pertater ; Instead ov prayin' hard fur rain, (87) ss ■OLD SPENSE. He fetched an irrigator. " The wicked flourish hke green bays !"' Sed folks for comfort in them days. I will allow his place was grand, With not a slump upon it, The loam wus jest as rich an' black Es school ma'am's velvet bunnit ; But tho' he flourisli'd, folks all know'd What spiritooal ear-marks he show'd. Sptnse had a notion in his mind, Ef some poor human grapples With pesky worms thet eat his vines. An' spile his summer apples, It don't seem enny kmd ov sense Tew call that " cheekin' Pruvidence !" An' ef a chap on Sabbath sees A thunder cloud a-strayin' Above his fresh cut clover an' Gets down tew steddy prayin', An' tries tew shew the Lord's mistake, Instead ov tacklin' tew his rake, He ain't got enny kind ov show Tew talk ov chast'ning trials ; When the' 'lar thunder cloud lets down It's sixt) L Jlion vials ; No ! when it looks tew rain on huy. First take yer rake an' then yer pray ! OLD SPI-.XSE. 89 »'*' "^"' '™'^- 1 Old Spense was one ov them thar chaps Thet in this life of tus'-le, An' rough-an'-tumble, sort ov set A mighty store on muscle ; B'liev'd in hustlin" in the crop, An' prayin' on the last i(md top ! An' yet he hed his p'ints — his heart VVus builded sort ov spacious ; An' solid — ev'ry beam an' plank, An', Stranger, now, veracious. A wore-out hoss he never shot, But turn'd him in the clover lot ! I've seed up tew the meetin" house, The winkin' an' the nudgin', When preacher sed, " No doubt that Dives Been drefful mean an' grudgin' ; Tew church work sea I'd his awtlil fate Whar thar ain't no foolin' with the gatej" I mind the preacher met old Spense, Beneath the mapits laj^gin'. The day was hot, an' he'd a pile Ov 'cetrees in his waggin' ; A sack of tlour, a hansum hog, Sum butter and his terrier dog. Preacher, he halted up his hoss, Ask'd for Miss Spense an' Deely, Tew limber u}) his tongue a mite, 90 OLD SPENSE. And sez right slick an' mealy : " Brother, I really want tew know Hev you got religion ? Samson, whoa !" Old Spense, he bit a noble chaw, An' sort ov meditated ; Samson he nibbl'd at the grass, An' preacher smilM and waited ; Ye'd see it writ upon his face — " I've got Spense in a tightsome place !" The old man curl'd his whip-lash round An alto-vic'd muskittef, Preacher, sort ov triumphant, strok'd His ornary old critter. Spense p'ints tew flour, an' hog, an' jar, Sez he, " I've got religion thar ! " Them's goin' down tew Spinkses place, Whar old man Spinks is stayin' ; The bank he dealt at bust last month, An' folks is mostlv savin' : Him bein' ag'd, an' poor, an' sick, They'll put him in the poor-house slick ! " But no, they don't I Not while I own The name ov Jedediah ; Yer movin' ? How's yer gran'ma Green. An' yer cousin, Ann Maria ? Boss, air they ? Yas, sirree, I dar Tew say, I've got religion thar !" OLD SPENSE. 91 Preacher, he in his stirrups riz, His visage kind ov cheerin' ; An' keerful look'd along the road, Over sugar bush an' clearin' ; Thar wa'n't a deacon within sight ; Sez he, " My brother, guess you're righ '' You keep your waggon Zionward, With that religion on it ; I calculate we'll meet" — jest here A caliker sun bonnet, On a sister's head, cum round the Jog, An' preacher dispars'd like mornin' fog ! One day a kind ov judgment come. The lightnin'-rod conductor Got broke — the fluid struck his aunt, An' in the root-house chuck'd her. It laid her up for quite a while, An' the judgment made the neighbors smile. Old Spense he swore a mighty swar, He didn't mince nor chew it ; For when he spoke, 'most usual, It had a backbone tew it. He sed he'd find a healthy plan Tew square things with the agent man, Who'd sold him thet thar useless rod To put upon his roofin' ; An' ef he found him round the place, 92 OLD SPENSE. He'd send the scamp a-hoofin'. " You sort ov understand my sense ?'" " Yes, pa," said pooty Deely Spense. " Yes, pa," sez she, es mild es milk Tew thet thar strong oration, An' when a woman acts like that — It's bin my observation — (An' reckin that you'll find it sound) She means tew turn creation round. An' fix the univarse the way She sort ov feels the notion. So Deely let the old man rave, Nor kick'd up no commotion ; Tho' thet cute agent man an' she Were know'd es steady company. He'd chance around when Spense was out, A felier sort o' airy ; An' poke around free's the wind. With Deely in the dairy. (Old Spense hed got a patent churn, Thet gev the Church a dreftul turn). I am a married man myself, More sot on steddy plowin', An' cuttin' rails, than praisin' gals, Yet honestly allovvin' — A man must be main hard tew please Thtt didn'!; freeze tew Deely's cheese. OLD SPEiWSE. 93 1 reckon tho' old S|.)ense hcd sign'd With Satan queer law papers, He'd fiU'd tliat dairy up chock-full Of them thar patent capers. Preacher once took fur sermon text — " Rebellious patent vats. — What next?" I've kind of stray'd from thet thar scare That cum on Si>ense — tho', reely, ni alius hold it was a shine Of thet thar pooty Deely : Thar's them es holds thro' thin an' thick, Twas a friendly visit from Old Nick. Es time went on, old Spense he seem'd More sot on patent capers ; So he went right off tew fetch a thing He'd read ov in the papers. 'Twas a moony night in airly June, The Whip-poor-wills wus all in tune ; The Katydids wus callin' clar, The fire-bugs wus glowin', The smell ov clover fiU'd the air. Thet day old Spense'd bin mowin' — With a mower yellin' drefful screams, Like them skreeks we hear in nightmare dreams. Miss Spense wus in t!ie keepin'-room, O'erlookin' last yar's cherries ; The Help wus settin' on the bench. %\ 94 I - OLD SPENSE. A-bullin' airly berries ; 'i he hir'd man sot on the step, An' chaw'd, an" .vatch'd the crickets lep. Not one ov them thar folks thet thought Ov Deely in the dairy : The Help thought on the hir'd man, An' he ov Martin's Mary ; Miss Sj^ense she ponder'd thet she'd found Crush'd sugar'd riz a cent a jjound. 1 guess hed you an' I bin thar, A-pecpin' thro' the shutter Ov thet thar dairy, we'd a swore Old Spense's cheese an' butter Wus gilded, from the manner thet Deely she smii'd on pan an' vat. t The Agent he had chanc'd around, In evenin "s; peaceful shadder ; He'd glimpsM Spense an' his tarrier go Across the new-mown medder — To'ard Crampville — so he shew'd his sense, By slidin' o'er the garden fence, An' kind of unassumin' glode, Beneath the bendm' branches, Tew the dairy door whar Deely watch'd — A-tvvitterin' an' anxious. It didn't suit Miss Deely's plan Her pa should catch that Agent man. OLD SPKX.\E. 95 I kind ov mind them days I went With Betsy Ann a-sparking' Time heci a drefful sneakin' way Ov passin' without markin' A single blaze upon a post, An' walkiiv noiseless es a ghost ! 1 guess thet Adam found it thus, Afore he hed to grapple With thet conundrum Satan rai^'d About the blam'd old apple ; He found Time sort ov smart tew pass Afore Eve took tew aj)ple sass. Thar ain't no changes cum about Gence them old days in EJen, Excejjt thet lovers take a spell Of mighty hearty feedin'. Now Adam makes his Eve rejice By orderin" up a leiiKjn ice. He ain't got enny kind ov show To hear the mtrry pealins' Of them thar weddin' bells, unless He kind ov stirs her feelins'— By ireatin' her tew ginger pop, An' pilin peanuts m a-top. Thet Agent man know'd how to run The business real liandy ; An' him an' Deely sot an' laugh'd, 96 OLD SPENSR. An' scrunch'd a pile o' candy ; An' talk'd about the singin' skiile — An' stars — an' Spense's kickin' mule — An' other elevatin' facts In Skyence an' in Natur. An' Time, es I wus siyin', glode Ptst, like a champion skater, — When — Thunder I round the orchard fenct% Come thet thar tarrier dog an' Spense, An' made straight for the dairy door. Thar's times in most experrence, We feel how trooly wise 'twould be To make a rapid clearance ; Nor wait tew practice them thar rules We larn tew city dancin' skules. The Agent es a gen'ral plan Wus polish'd es the handles Ov my old plough ; an' slick an' smooth Es Betsey's tallow candles. But when he see'd old Spense — wal, neow, He acted homely es a ceow ! His manners wusn't in the grain, His wool wus sorter shoddy ; His courage wus a poorish sort, It hadn't got no body. An' when he see'd old Spense, he shook Es ef he'd see'd his gran'ma's spook. OLD SPEXSE, 97 Dtely she wrung her pooty hands, She felt her heart a-tiirnin' Rs poor es milk when all the cream Is taken off fur churnin'. When all to once her eyes fell pat Upon old Spense's patent vat ! The Agent took no sort ov stock Thet time in etiquettin ; It would hev made a punkin laugh Tew see his style of get tin' ! In thet thar empty vat he slid, An' Deely shet the hefty lid. Old Spense wus smilin' jest es clar Es stars in the big *' Dipper" ; An' Deely made believe tew hum "Old Hundred" gay an' chipper, — But thinkin' what a tightsome squeeze The vat wus fur the Agent's knees. Old Spense he sed, " I guess, my gal, " Ye've been a sort ov dreamin' ; '' I see ye haven't set the pans, " Nor turn'd the mornin's cream in ; " Now ain't ye spry ? Now, darn my hat ! " Ef the milk's run inter thet thar vat." ^1 Thar's times one's feehn's swell like bread In summer-time a-risin', An' Deely's heart swole in a way 98 OLD SPENSK. Wus mightily suri)risin'. When Spense gnpp d one ov them thar pans Ov yaller cream in his big han's ! The moon glode underneath a cloud, The breeze sigh'd loud an' airy ; The pans they taintlike glimmer'd on The white walls ov the dairy. Deely she treml)rd like an ash, An' lean'd agin the old cnurn dash. " Tarnation darksome," growl'd old Spense, An' liftin' up the cover — He turn'd the ])an ov cream quite spry On Deely's Agent lover. Good sakes alive ! a curdlin' skreek From ihet thar Asrent man did break ! All drinpin' white he ros'd tew view, His curly locks a-ilowin' With clotted cream, an' in the dusk, Flis eyes with terror glowin'. He made one spring — 'tis certain, reely, He never sed " Good night" tew Deely. Old Spense he riz up from the ground, An' with a kind ov wonder, He look'd inter thet ]oatent vat, An' simply sed, " By thunder" ! Then look'd at Deely hard, and sed, *' The milk will sop clar thro' his hed" ! Folks look'd right solemn when they heard The hull ov thet thar story, An' sed, " It might be plainly seen 'Twas clar agin the glory Of Pruvidence to use a vat Thet Satan in had boldly sat"! They shook their heads when Spense declar'd 'Twas Deely's beau in hidin' ; They guess'd they kno^v'd a thing or two, An' wasn't so confilin' : — 'Twas the " Devourin' Lion" cum Tevv ask old Spense tew step down hum'' ! 0!d Spense he kinder spil'd the thing Fur thet ihar congregation, By holdin' on tew life in spite Ov Satan's mvitali on ; An' hurts t^iar feelm's ev'ry Spring, Buyin' some pesky patent thmg. The Agent man slid out next day, 'J'o peddle round young Hyson , And Deely fur a fortnight thought Ov drinkin" sum rat pison ; Didn't put no p.-ipers in her har ; An' din'd out ov the pickle jar. Then at Aunt Hesby's sewin'-bee She met a slick young feller, Wuh a city partin' tew his har An' a city umbereller. He see'd her lium thet night, an' he Is now her steddy company ! I'm-: koMAN RosK si:i.Li':k. Not iri)\i\ l*:ustiiin <')iiu.' mv loses ; I'.tlmns, sec M V Mowers .ire Kom.in blown ; liicir net lanes l>ro|) lioney .iM)l>er, and tlu-ir pet.ils liirow Km.Ii crimsons on the liirciU inirhic (.1 llic slirine Where snowy 1 )i;in lifts her paUid hrow, As crimson h|js ol I ,ov'e may s< c:k lo w.irm A sister ghjw in hearts as |)iilseless licvvn. (':es:ir (roni Ahic wars rc-liirns today ; Patricians, hiiv my roy il roses ; strctw ilis way kiiei: (leep, as ihouj^h old 'I'lhcr roll'd A tide ol musky roses hom his hed lo do A wfHidcr, wond'roiis homage. Marcns l.ucin^, thou I'o-diy dost wed ; hiiy roses, roses, njses, l"o mingle with the iiii|>!i,il myrtle , lo(ik, I strip the poiish'd thorns from the stems, I'he nuptial rosit sluKild he a stintless flower ; lAicania, pass not hy mv roses. Virginia, Here is a rose that has a (anker in't, and yet It is most glorioiis-dyed and sweeter smells Than those death iiath not touched, 'i'o day they hear 'I'lie shield of Claudius with his spear ui^on it, Close upon Caesar's chariot -heap, heap it up ( loo ) I IN: kOM.lX' /x(>.S/'. Sl'.J.I hl< lOI Willi rosrs siK li ;is llu-sr ; 'lis \\\\v lie's (liM(l And tli'Tc':-, til'- ( .inker ! I»nt, K'jiii.ms, Ik* l)ic(l i^ionoiih, llu-rc's llu- pciluiiic ! and his virtues Arc these hri^hl petals ; so hiiy my roses, Widow. No (h"(.'i-k horn rost;s mine. I'riesless, prieslcss ! Thy ivory < hanol stay ; here's a lose and not A whiti- one, thoii;.^h thy (haste haruls attend ()!i Vesta's liiune. L')V'e's of a (olour he it that Whi( h l.idders I leaven and lives amon;^st tlu- (iods; Oi like the D.dloihl hiovvs all .ihoiit ihe earth ; ( )r, IiLSj)eriis like, is one sole slir epon The solemn sky which bridges some sad life, So here's a < unison rose : He thou as |>ure As Dian's tears iced on her silver ehet-k, And know no (juaiity of love, thou art A sorrow lo tlie ( i His I ( )li mi;4hly Lov(.' ! i would my roses < oiild hut ( horiis 'I'iiee. No roses of I*crsep()lis are mine. Ilelot, here — I L^ive thei' tins last hhjssom : A hee as red As ilvhli's ^ohlen toilers Slicked ns sweets ; A butterfly, wini^'d like to I'aos, nipp'abe, ow thy tender li[) ; ril steal another and hie away, And kiss it to hitn on his w.ive-rock'd ship.'' I saw a fairy twine Of star-white J essamine ; A daint) seat shajjcd like an airy swing; V\ ith two round yellow stars, Against the misty bars Of Night ; she nailed it high In the pansy-purple sky, With four taps of her little rainbow wing. To and fro That swing I'll blow. io6 MAKY'S TKYST. The baby moon in the amethyst sky Will laugh at us as we tioat and fly, And stretch her silver arms and try To catch the earth-babe swinging by. MARY'S TRYST. ii Young Mary stole along the vale, To keep her tryst with Ulnor's lord ; A warrior chid in coat of mail Stood darkling by the brawling ford. "O let me pass, O let me pass, Dark falls the night on hill and lea ; Flies, flies the bright day swift and fast, From lordly bow'er and greenwood tree. The small birds twitter as they fly To dewy bough and leaf-hid nest ; Dark fold the black clouds on the sky. And maiden terrors throng my breast !" " And thou shalt pass, thou bonnie maid. If thou wilt only tell to me — Why hiest thou forth in lonesome shade ; Where may thy wish a-for bourne be }" MARV'S I'KVSl. 107 " () let me by, O let me by, My granddam dwells by Ulnor's shore ; She strains for me her failing «ye — Beside her l' O lie HE M/GNO NNE. I will not l.iy my lily past — Love's light a.s vanity When to the mocking wind is cast The lily, Chastity." h(HJ(:iik-mi(;n()Nnk. l)OUch(-Mignonne liv'd in the nriill, Past the vineyards shady; Where the sun shone on a rill Jewel I'd like a lady. Proud the stream with lily-l)ud, (iay with glancing svvallow ; Swift its trillion-fof)te(l flood, Winding ways to ff)llfjw. Coy and still when flying whc-el Rested from its hshour ; Singing when it ground the meal Cav as lute or tabor. " IJouche-Mignonne " it called, when, red In the dawn were glowing, Kaves and mill-wheel, " leave thy bed, " Hark to me a-flowing !" /y ( ) (/C//K MI GNONNh "S Bouchc-Mii^noiine awoke and cjiiick (ilo>sy tri-sses hraidcd ; Curious siinl)L*ains clustt-rM thick Vin^js h«r (;a>>^iiiL'tii siiiidcd. I)(.-e|) will) k-avL's and hlossoms white Of the mnrniii}^ gl"ry, Sh ikiii}4 all lh(.-ir hamiers bright Fnjin ti)e mill eaves li(;ary. Swallows liirn'd glossy thro.its, Timorous, uncertain, When to luar their niaiin notes, Peeii'd she thro' her cuitain, Shoo'v the null-stream sweet and clear, With iis silver !,iui,'littr — Sho(jk die mdl from Mooring sere U|) to oaken r. liter, " Bouche Mignoiine" il cried " c(jnie^down '■(Jdier ti wtrrs are stirring ; " i*ierre with fmg< rs strong and bnnvn " Sets the wheel a-birring." J>ouche-M ignonne her (Jistatf j>lies Wneie the wilhjws shiver, Round the mosiv mill wheel flies; l)rag(jn llies a (juiver— - 11 ish a tliaart the hly-beds Bierce the dry reed's thicket : Where the yellow sunlight treads Chants the Iric-ndly cricket, liutterllius about her skim (Pouf ! their simple fancies !) In the will ivv shadows dim 1 1 6 BO UCHE-MIGNONNK, Take her eyes for pansies ! Buzzing comes a velvet bee Sagely it supposes Those red lips beneath the tree Are two crimson roses ! Laughs the mill-stream wise and bright It is not so simple Knew it, since she first saw light Ev'ry blush and dimple ! " Bouche-Mignonne " it laughing cries " Pierre as the bee is silly " Thinks two morning stars thine eyes- " And thy neck a lily 1 " Bouche-Mignonne when shadows crept From the vine-dark hollows ; When the mossy mill-wheel slept Curv'd the airy swallows. When the lilies clos'd white lids Over golden fancies — Homeward drove her goats and kids, Bright the gay moon dances. With her light and silver feet, On the mill-stream flowing, Come a thousand perfumes sweet, Dewy buds are blowing. Comes an owl and grely flits Jeweird ey'd and hooting — Past the green tree where she sits Nightingales are fluting Soft th^ wind as rust'ling silk On a courtly lady, BESIDE THE SEA. 117 Tinkles down the flowing milk Huge and still and shady — ■ Stands the null-wheel restin^^ still From its loving labor, Dances on the tireless rill Gay as lute or tabor ! " Bouche-Mignonne " it laughing cries " Do not blush and tremble ; " If the night has ears and eyes " I'll for thee disemble ! " Loud and clear and sweet I'll sing " Oh my far way straying, " I will hide the whisper'd thing '* Pierre to thee is saying. " Bouche-Mignonne, good night, good night ! " Ev'ry silver hour *' I will toss my lilies white 'Gainst thy maiden bower ! " ii u BESIDE THE SEA. One lime he dream'd beside a sea. That laid a mane of mimic stars ; In fondling quiet on the knee, Of one tall, pearl'd, cliff — the bars ; Of golden beaches upward swept, Pine-scented shadows seawird rrept. T ii8 BESIDE THE SEA, The full moon swung her ripen'd sphere As trom a vine ; and clouds as small As vine leaves in the opening year Kissed the large circle of her ball. The stars gleamed thro' them as one sees Thro' vine leaves drift the golden bees. He dream'd beside this purple sea, Low sang its tranced voice, and he — He knew not if the wordless strain Made prophecy of joy or pain ; He only knew far stretch'd that sea, He knew its name — Eternity ! A shallop with a rainbow sail, On the bright pulses of the tide, Throbb'd airily ; a fluting gale Kiss'd the rich gilding of its side ; By chain of rose and myrtle fast, A light sail touch'd the slender mast. " A flower-bright rainbow thing," he said To one beside him, " far too frail "To brave dark storms that lurk aliead, " To dare sharp talons of the gale. " Belov'd, thou woulds't not forth with me "In such a bark on such a sea?" " First tell me of its name ? " she bent Her eyes divine and innocent On his. He raised his hand above Its prow, and answ'ring swore, " 'Tis Love !" THE HIDDEN ROOM. 119 " Now tfll," she ask'd, " how is it built, Of gold or worthless timber gilt ? " •' Of gold," he said. " Whence named ? " asked The roses of her lips aj)art, [she, She paus'd— a lily by the sea — Came his swift answer, " From my heart !" She laid her light palm in his hand. " Let loose the shallop from the strand ! " THE HIDDEN ROOM. I marvel if my heart, Hath any room apart. Built secretly its mystic walls within ; With subtly warded key Ne'er yielded unto me — Where even I have sutely never been. Ah, surely I know all The bright and cheerful hall With the fire ever red up)n its hearth ; My friends dwell with me there. Nor comes the step of Care To sadden down its music and its mirth. I20 THE HIDDEN ROOM. Full well I know as mine, The little cluister'd shrine No foot but mine alone hath ever trod ; There come the shining wings — The face of one who brings The pray'rs of men before the throne of God. And many know full well, The busy, busy cell, Where I toil at the work I have to do, Nor is the portal fast, Where stand phantoms of the past, Or grow the bitter plants of darksome rue. I know the dainty spot (Ah, who doth know it not ?) Where pure young Love his lily-cradle made ; And nestled some sweet springs With lily-spangled wings — Forget-me-nots upon his bier I laid. Yet marvel I, my soul, Know I thy very whole. Or dost thou hide a chamber still from me ? Is it built upon the wall ? Is it spacious ? is it small ? Is it God, or man, or I who holds the key ? FARMER DOWNS CHANGES HIS OPINION OF NATURE. " No," said old Farmer Downs to me, " I ain't the facts denyin', That all young folks in love must be. As birds must be a-flyin'. Don't go agin sech facts, because I'm one as re-specks Natur's laws. " No, sir ! Old Natur knows a thing Or two, I'm calculatin', She don't make cat-fish dance and sing, Or sparrow-hawks go skatin' ; She knows her business ev'ry time, You bet your last an' lonely dime ! " 1 guess, I'm posted pooty fair On that old gal's capers ; She allers acts upon the square Spite o' skyentific papers. (I borrows one most ev'ry week From Jonses down to " Pincher's Creek.") (121) 122 FARMER DOWNS CHANGES " It sorter freshens up a man To read the newest notions, Tho' I don't freeze much tew that thar pi m. About the crops ratotions ; You jest leave Natur d ) her work, She'll do it ! she ain't one tew shirk ! " I'm all fur lettin Natur go The way she's sot on choosin'. Ain't that the figger of a beau That's talkin' thar tew Susan ? Down by the orchard snake-fence ? All right, it's Squire Sims, I guess. Yes. ii.' " He's jest the one I want tew see Come sparkin' ; guess they're lyin', That say that of old age he be Most sartinly a-dyin' — He's no sech thing ! G )od sakes alive, The man is only seventy-five ! " An' she's sixteen. I'm not the man Tew act sort of inhuman. An' meanly spile old Natur s plan To jine a man and woman In wedlock's bonds. Sirree, she makes, Tiiis grand old Natur, no mistakes. " They're standin' pooty clus ; the le ives Is round 'em like a bower, The Squire 's like the yaller sheaves r^-'^ HIS OPINION OF NA7C7RE. An' she's the Corn Flower, N.itur's the binder, alius true. Tew make one heart of them thar two. " Yas — as I was a-sayin', friend, I'm all for Natur's teachins ; She ain't one in the bitter end Tew practice over-reachins. You trust her, and she'll treat you well, Don't doubt her by the leastest spell. 123 '' I'm not quite clar but subsoil looks Jest kinder not quite pious ; I sorter think them farmin' books, Will in the long run sky us, Right in the mud ; the way they balk Old Natur with thar darn fool talk ! |:^ " When Susie marries Squire Sims, I'll lease his upland farm ; I'll get it cheap enough from him — Jest see his long right arm About her waist — looks orful big ! Why, gosh I he's bought a new brown wig ! r f: " Wal, that's the way old Natur acts When bald tolks go a-si)arkin' ; The skyentists can't alter facts With all their hard work larkin', A sparkin man wi/i look his best — That's Na*ur — tain't no silly jest ! Mr 1 n p'> '. l\ ) 124 THE BVRGOMEISTEK'S 11^ ELL. ** Old Natur, you and me is twins ; I never will git snarly With you, old gal. Why, darn my shins ! That's only Jonses Charlie. She's cuddlin' right agin his vest ! Eh ? What ? ' Old Natur knows what's best ! " ** Oh, does she ? Wal, p'raps 'lis so ; Jest see the rascal's arm About her waist ! You've got tew go Young man, right off this farm ; Old Natur knows a pile, no doubt, But you an' her hed best get out ! " You, Susie, git right hum. I'm mad Es enny bilin' crater ! In futur, sick or well or sad I'll take no stock in Natur. I'm that disgusted with her capers I'll run the farm by skyence papers." THE BURGOMEISTER'S WELL A peaceful spot, a little street. So still between the double roar Of sea and city that it seemed A rest in music, set before THE BURGOMEISTER'S WELL. 12: Some clashing chords — vibrating ycL With hurried measures fast and sweet ; For so the harsh chords of the town. And so the ocean's rythmic beat. A little street with linden trees So thickly set, the belfry's face Was leaf-veiled, while above them pierced Four slender spires flamboyant grace. Old porches carven when the trees, Were seedlings yellow in the sun Five hundred years ago that bright Upon the quaint old city shone. A fountain prim, and richly cut In ruddy granite, carved to tell How a good burgomeister rear'd The stone above the people's well. A sea-horse from his nostrils blew Two silver threads ; a dragon's lip Dropp'd di'monds, and a giant hand Held high an urn on finger tip. ' Fwas there I met my little maid, There saw her flaxen tresses first ; She filled the cup for one who lean'd (A soldier, crippl'd and athirst) Against the basin's carven rim ; Her dear small hand's white loveliness Was pinkly flush'd, the gay bright drops Plash'd on her brow and silken dress. 20 HAW THE WIND. I took the flagon from her hand, 'I'oo small, dear hand, for such a weight. From coliweb weft and woof is spun The tapestry of Life and Fate ! The linden trees had gilded buds, The dove wheeled high on jcyous wing, When on that darling hand of hers I slipped the glimmer of d ring. Ah, golden heart and golden iocks Ye wove so sweet, so sure > spell I That quiet day I saw her first Beside the Burgomeister's Well ! f^ SAID T!1K WIND. ' "J ■' 11 " Come with me," said the Wind To the ship within the dock. " Or dost thou fear the shock Of the ocean-hidden rock, When tempests strike thee full and leave thee blind ; And low the inky clouds, Blackly tangle in thy shrouds ; And ev'ry strained cord Finds a voice and shrills a word, That word of doom so thunderously upflung From the tongue Jl- SAID lllE WIND. 127 Of every forked wive, Lan»enting o'er a grave Deep hiilden at its base, Where the dead whom it h.is slain Lie in the strict embrace Of secret weird tendrils ; but the pain Of the ocean's strong remorse Doth fiercely force The tale of murder from its bosom out In a mighty tempest clangour, and its shout [n the threat'ning and lamenting of its swell Is as the voice of Hell, Yet all the word it sailh Is ' Death.'" " Come with me," sang the Wind, Why art thou, love, unkind ? Thou are too fair, O .">hip, T(,> kiss the slimy lij) Of the cold and dismal shore ; and, prithee, mark, How chill and dnrk Shew the vast and rusty linkings of the chain, Hoarse grating as with pain, Which moors thee And secures thee From the transports of the soft wind and the main. Aye ! strain thou and pull. Thy sails are dull And dim from long close furling on thy spars, But come thou forth with me. And full and free, 4 IT 128 SAID THE WIND. I'll kiss them, kiss them, kiss them, till they be White as the Arctic stars. Or as the salt-white pinions of the gull ! " " Come with me," sang the Wind, ** O ship belov'd, and find How golden-gloss'd and blue Is the sea. How thrush-sweet is my voice ; how dearly true I'll keep my nuptial promises to thee. O mine to guide thy sails By the kisses of my mouth ; Soft as blow the gales. On the roses in the south. O mine to guide thee far From ruddy coral bar. From horizon to horizon thou shalt glimmer like a star ; Thou shalt lean upon my breast. And I shall rest. And murmur in thy sails, Such fond tales. That thy finest cords Will, syren-like, chant back my mellow words With such renew'd enchantment unto me That I shall be. By my own singing, closer bound to thee ! " " Come with me," sang the Wind, " Thou knowest, love, my mind, No more I'll try to woo thee. Persuade thee 01 pursue thee , SAID THE WIXD. 129 For ihou art mine ; Since first thy mast, a tall and stately pine Beneath Norwegian skies, Sang to my sighs. Thou, thou wert built for me, Strong lily of the sea ! Thou cans't not choose, i The calling of my low voice to refuse ; And if Death ^ Were the sole, sad, wailing burthen of my breath, ^ Thy timbers at my call, > i Would shudder in their thrall, I Thy sails outburst to touch my stormy lip ; , ►&_ Like a giant quick in a grave, Thy anchor heave. And close upon my thunder-pulsing breast, O ship. Thou would'st tremble, nor repine. That being mine, Tny spars. Like long pale lights of falling stars, Plunged in the Stygian blackness of the sea. And to billowy ruin cast Thy tall and taper mast. Rushed shrieking headlong down to an abyss. O ship ! O love ! if Death Were such sure portion, thou could'st not refuse But thou would'st choose As mine to die, and call such choosing bliss ; For thou for me Wert plann'd from all eternity ! " - 1- m ! ■ i WO T///^ GHOSTS OF III! 'IKEES. FHE GHOSTS OF THK I RKI':s. The silver fangs of the mighty axe, Tjit to the blood of our giant boles ; It smote our breasts aud smote our backs, Thunder'd the front- cleared leaves — As sped in tire. The whirl and H.ime of scarlet leaves, With strong desire Leaped to the air our captive souls. While down our corpses thunder'd, The air at our strong souls gazed and wondered ; And cried to us, " Ve ' Are full of all mystery to mc ! i saw but thy plumes of leaves, Thy strong, brown greaves \ Thy sinewy roots and lusty branches, And fond and anxious, I laid my ear and my restless breast By each pride-high crest ; And softly stole And listen'd by limb and listen'd by bole. Nor ever the stir of a soul, Heard I in ye — Great is the mystery ! " The strong, brown eagle plung'd from his peak, From the hollow iron of his beak : THE GHOSTS OF THE TREES. «3» The wood pigeon fell ; its breast of blue Cold with sh:ir]) death all thro' and thro'', To our ghosts he cried. " With talons of steel, I hold tlie storm ; Where the high peaks reel, My young lie warm. In the wiiul-rock'd s])aces of air I bide ; My wings too wide — Too angry-strong for the emerald gyves, Of woodland cell where the meek dove thrives. And when at the bar, Of morn I smote with my breast its star, And under — My wings grew purple, the jealous thunder, With the fl ime of the skies Hot in my breast, and red in my eyes ; From peak to i)^ak of sunrise piTd That set space glowing. With tlimes from air-based crater's blowing — I downward swejjt, beguiled By tlie close-set f(jrest gilded and spread A sea for the lordly tread, Of a God's war-ship — 1 broke its leafy turt with my breast ; My iron lip I dippd in the cool of each whispering crest ; From thy leafy steeps, I saw in my deeps, Red coral the flame necked oriole — But never the stir of a soul i.:;2 THE GHOSTS OF THE TREES. ■ W Heard 1 in ye — Great is the mystery ! " From its ferny coasts, The river gazed at our stron^^ free ghosts, And with rocky fingers shed Apart the silver curls of its head ; Laid its murmuring liands. On the reedy bands ; And at gaze Stood in the half moon's of brown, still bays ; Like gloss'd eyes of stags Its round pools gaz'd from the rusty flags, At our ghostly crests At the bark-shields strong on our phantom breasts ; And its tide Took lip and tongue and cried. " I have push'd apart '•J The mountain's heart ; I have trod the valley down ; With strong hands curled, Have caught and hurled, To the earth the high hill's crown ! My brow I thrust. Through sultry dust, That the lean wolf howl'd upon ; I drove my tides, ' Between the sides, Of the bellowing canon. THE GllOSrS OF THE TREES. From chrystal shoulders, I hurled my boulders, On the bridge's iron span. \Vh:?n I rear'd my head From its old time bed, Shook the pale cities of I'lan I I have run a course With the swift, wild horse ; I have thunderd pace for ])ace, With the rushing herds — I have caught the beards Of the swift stars in the race ! Neither moon nor sun Could me out-run ; Deep cag'd in my silver bars, I hurried with me, To the shouting sea, Their light and the light of the star> ! The reeling earth In furious mirth With sledges of ice I smote. I whirled my sword, Where the pale berg ronr'd, I took the ship by the throai ! With stagnant breath I called chill Death My guest to the hot bayou. T34 f^IE GHOSTS OF THE TREES. I built men's graves, With strong thew'd waves 'lliat thing that my strength might do. I did right well — Men cried " From Hell The rrjght of Thy hand is given ! " By loose rocks stoned The stout (]uays groaned, Sleek sands by my spear were riven. ( >'er shining slides. On my gloss'd tides, The brown cribs close woven rolTd ; The stout logs sprung, Their heiuht among My loud whirls of white and gold ' The great raft presi, My calm, broad breast — A dream thro' my shady trance, The light canoe — A spirit flew — The pulse of my blue exi)anse. Wing'd swift the shi|)s, My foaming lips Made rich wit'" dewy kisses, All night and morn, Fiela'*; red with corn, And -.^-here the mill-whed hisses. TJIE GHOSTS OF THE TKEE.^, '35 A'ld shivers and sobs, With lab'ring throbs. With Its wliirls my strong palms play'd. I p.irttd my H igs. For thirsty stags. On the necks of arches laid. To the tlrv-vincd town My tide roll'd d(nvn — Dry lips and throats a-quiver, Rent sky and ^od With shi'Uts '■ From God The strength of the mighty river 1" I, list'ning, heani The softsong'd bird ; The beetle about thy boles. The caihng bretze In thy crests, O Trees — Never the voices of souls ! " We, freed souls, of the Trees look'd down On the river's shining eyes of brown j And upward smiled At the tender air and its warriov child, The iron eagle strorig md wild. " xVo will cf ours. The cai)tive souls of our barky tow'rs ; *' His the deed Who laid in the secret earth the seed ; 136 GISLI: THE CHIEFTAIN. And with strong hand Knitted each woodv fetter and band. Never, ye Ask of the tree. The " Wherefore " or " Why " the tall trees stand, Built in their places on the land ! Their souls unknit ; With any wisdom or any wit, The subtle " Why, " Ask ye not of earth or sky — But one command it. GISLI: THE CHIEFTAIN. To the Goddess Lada prayed Gisli, holding high his sp^ar Bound with buds of spring, and laughed All his heart to Lada's ear. Damp his yellow beard with mead. Loud the harps clang'd thro the day; With bruised breasts triumphant rode Gisli's galleys in the bay. Bards sang in the bar.quet hall, Set in loud verse Gisli's fame, On their lips the war gods laid Fire to chaunt their warrior's name. M GISLl: 77/ K CHI EFT A IN. 137 To the Love-queen (iisli pray'd, Buds upon his tall spec's tip; Laughter in his broad blue eyes. Laughter on his bearded lij). To the Spring-queen Gisli pray'd, She, with mystic distaff slim, Spun her hours o( love and leaves. Made the stony headlands d;m — Dim and green with tender grnss, Blew on ice-fields with red mouth ; Blew on lovers hearts ; and lured White swans from the blue-arched south. To the Love-queen Gisli pray'd, Groan'd far icebergs tall and blue As to Lada's distaff slim, All their ice-locked fires flew. To the Love-queen Gisli prayed, She, with red hands, caught and spun Yellow flames from crater lips, Long flames from the waking sun. To the Love-queen Gisli praved, She with loom and beam and spell, All the subtle fires of earth Wove, and wove them strong and well. To the Spring-queen Gisli prayed. Low the sun the pale sky trod ; Mute her ruddy hand she raised Beckon'd back the parting Gf>d. 138 CIS LI: THE CHIEFTAIN. To the Love-queen (jisli prayed — Weft and vvouf of flame she wove — Lada, Goddess of the Spring ! Lada, Goddess stroni,^ ot Love 1 Sire of the strong chiettain's |)rayer. Victory with liis pulse of flame ; Mead its mother — loud Ik- laughed. Calling on great Lida's name. " Goddess Lada- -Queen of Love ! '' Here stand I and quaff to thee — '' Dec k for thee witii buds my spear — " Give a comely wife to me ! '• Blow not to my arms a flake " ( )f crisj) snow in maiden guise ; " Mists of jjailid hair md tips *' Of long ice-spears in her eyes ! •• When my death-sail skims the foam — " Strain my oars on Death's black sea- '' When my foot the " Glass-Hill " seeks- " Such a maid may do for me ! '• Now, O Lada, mate the flesh ! " Mate the Are and flame of life, '• Tho' the soul go still unwed, " Give the flesh its titting wife ! " Vs the galley runs between, "Skies with billows closely spun ; " P^eeling but the wave that leaps " Closest to it in the sun " GISLl : THE CIIIEI'TAIX. •39 "Throbs but to the i)resent kiss " Of the wild lips of the sea ; Thus a man joys in his life — Nought of the Beyond knows he ! '* Goddess ! here 1 cast bright buds, " Spicy i)ine boughs at thy feel ; " Give the flesh its fitting mate " Life is strong and life is sweet ! To the Love-queen Gisli pray'd — Weft and woof of fl.ime she wove : Lada, (ioddess of the Spring — Lada, Goddess strong of Love I II I'ART IL I>om harpings and sagas and mirth of the town. Great Gisli, the chieftain strode merrily down. His ruddy beard stretch'd in the loom of the wind, His shade like a dusky-Ciod striding behind. Gylfag, his true hcmnd, to his heel glided near, Sharp-fang'd, lank and red as a blood-rusted spear. As crests of the green ber:(s flame white in the sky. The town on its siiarp hill shone brightly and high. In fiords roared the ice below the dumb stroke Of the Sun's red hammer rose blue mist like smoke. »■ ' I40 GISLI : THE CHIEFTAIN. 'm I*' ' I i«' r 1 It clung to the black pines, and clun^ to the bay — The galleys of Gisli grew ghosts of the day. li followed the sharp wings of swans, as they rose — It fell to the wide jaws of swift riven Hoes. It tam'd the wild shriek of the eagle — grew dull The cries, in its foldings, of osprey and gull. " Arouse thee, bold wind," shouted Gisli ''and drive " Floe and Berg out to sea as bees from a hive. " Chase this woman-lipped haze at top of thy speed, " It cloys to the soul as the tongue cloys with mead ! " Come, buckle thy sharp spear again to thy breast ! " Thy galley hurl forth from the seas of the West. " With thy long, hissing oars, beat loud the north sea. " The sharp gaze of day give the eagles and me. <' No cunning mists shrouding the sea and the sky, '' Or the brows of the great Gods, bold wind, love I ! " As Gylfag, my hound, lays his fangs in the flank " Of a grey wolf, shadowy, leather-thew'd, lank. •' Bold wind, chase the blue mist, thy prow in its hair, •' Sun, speed thy keen shafts ihro' the breast of the air ! Part III. The shouting of Gisli, the chieftain, Rock'd the blue hazes, and cloven GISIJ : THE CniEFTALW In twain by sharp prow of the west wind. To north and to south fled the thick mist. 141 As in burnish'd walls of Valhalla^ In cleft of the mist stood the chieftain, And up to the blue shield of Heaven, Flung the loud shaft of his laughter. Smote the mist, with shrill spear the swift \\\\\A. Grey shapes fled like ghosts on the Hell way , Bay'd after their long locks hoarse Gyli'ag, Stared at them, triumphant, the eagles. To mate and to eaglets, the eagle Shriek'd, " Gone is my foe of the deep mist, " Rent by the vast hands of the kind Gods, " Who knows the knife-pangs of our hunger ! " Shrill whistled the winds as his dun wings Strove with it feather by feather ; Loud grated the rock as his talons Its breast spurned slowly his red eyes. Like fires seemed to flame in the swift wind, At his sides the darts of his hunger — At his ears the shriek of his eaglets — In his breast the love of the quarry. Unfurl'd to the northward and southward His wings broke the air, and to eastward His breast gave its iron ; and God-ward Pierc'd the shrill voice of his hunger. T 142 THE SONG Of THE ARKOIV. Bared were his great sides as he laboured Up the first steep blue of the broad >ky ; His gaze on the fields of his freedom, To the God's spoke the prayers of his gyres. Bared were lu's vast sides as he glided Black in the sharp blue of the north sky ; Black over the white of the tall clitfs, Black over the arrow of Gish. THE SONG OF THE ARROW. |i '.i ^' 1 What know I, As 1 bite the blue veins of the throbbing sk\ ; To the quarry's breast, Hot irom the sides of the sleek smooth nest ? What know I ( )f the will of the tense l)Ovv from which I fly 1 What the need or jest, That feathers my flight to its bloody rest. What know I Of the will of the bow that speeds me on high ? What doth the shrill bow Of the hand on its singing soul-string know ? Flame-swift speed I — And the dove and the eagle shriek out and die ; Whence comes my sharp zest For the heart of the quarry ? the Gods know best. GISLI: THE CIIfEFTAl.W 143 Deep pierc'd the red gaze of the eagic— The l)reast of a cyguc t l)elow hiii) ; Beneath liis dun wing frDtn the eastward Shrill-ch;iunted the long shaft of (iisli ! Beneath his dun wing from the westward Shook a shaft that laiigh'd in its biting — Met in the fierce breast ot the eagle The arrows of Gisli and Brynhild ! Part IV A ghost along the Hell-way sped, The Hell-shoes shod his misty tread : A phantom hound beside him sped. Beneath the spandrils of the Way, World's roll'd to-niuht — from night to dav ; In space's ocean Suns were spray. (rroup'd world's, eternal eagles, flew ; Swift comets fell like noiseless dew, Young earths slow budded in the blue. The waves of space inscrutable, With awiul pulses rose and fell — Silent and godly — terrible. Electric souls of strong Suns laid. Strong hands along the awful shade That God about His God-work made. ii ^11 ! >^ 144 C7/JZ/; 7//Z; CHIEFTAIN. P>er from all ripe worlds did break, Men's voices, as when children speak. Eager and querulous and weak. And pierc'd to the All worker thro' His will that veil'd Him from the \ iew "■ What hast thou done ? What dost thou do ? And ever from His heart did flow Majeslical, the answer low — The benison " Ye shall not know ! The wan ghost on the Hell-way sped, Nor yet Valhalla's lights were shed Upon the white brow of the Dead. Nor sang within his ears the roll Of trumpets calling to his soul ; Nor shone wide portals of the goal. His spear grew heavy on his breast, <| Dropp'd, like a star his golden crest ; Far, far the vast Halls of the Blest ! His heart grown faint, his feet grown weak, He scal'd the knit mists of a peak, That ever parted grey and bleak. And, as by unseen talons nipp'd. To deep Abysses slowly slipp'd ; Then, swift as thick smoke strongly ripp'd. By whirling winds from ashy ring. Of dank weeds blackly smoldering, The peak sprang upward a quivering G/SLI: THL CHIEFTAIN. »45 And perdurable, set its face Against the jjulsing breast of space But for a moment to its base. Refluent roli'd the crest new sprung, In clouds with ghastly lightnings slung, — Faint thunders to their black feet clung. His faithful hound ran at his heel — His thighs and breast were bright with steel- He saw the awful Hclhvay reel. But far along its bleak peaks rang A distant trump — i;s airy ciang Like light through deathly shadows sprang. He knew the blast — the voice of love \ Clelt lay the throbbing })eak above Sail'd light, wing'd like a silver dove. On strove the t(Mling ghost, his soul Stirr'd like strong mead in wassail bowl, That quivers to the shout of " Skoal. ! " Strode from the mist close-curv'd and cold As is a writhing drag )n's fold ; A warrior with shield of gold. A sharp blade glitter'd at his hip, Flamed like a star his lance's tip ; His bugle sang at bearded lip. Beneath his golden sandels flew Stars from the mist as grass flmgs dew ; Or red fruit falls from the dark yew. f 146 GISLI : THE CHIEFTAIN. As under shelt'ring wreatlis of snow The dark blue north flowers richly blow-- l^encath long locks of silver glow. Clear eyes, that burning on a host Would win a field at sunset lost, Ere stars from Odin's hand were toss'd. He stretch'd his hand, he howed his head ; The wan ghost to his bosom sped — Dead kiss'd the bearded lips of Dead ! •' What dost thou here, my youngest born ? " Thou — scarce yet fronted with life's storm '' Why art thou from the dark earth torn ? '' When high Valhalla puls'd and rang " With harps that shook as grey bards sang- " 'Mid the loud joy I heard the clang. " Of Death's dark doors — to rne alone " Smote in thy awful dying groan — My soul recall'd its blood and bone. " Viewless the cord which draws from far " To the round sun some mighty star ; Viewless the strong-knit soul-cords are ! " " I felt thy dying gasp — thy soul " Towards mine a kindred wave in roll, " I left the harps — 1 left the bowl." " I sought the Hellway — I — the blest ; " That thou, new death-born son should rest Upon the strong rock of my breast. GISIJ : THE CHIEFTAIN. '47 What dost thou here, young, fair and bold ? "Sleek with youth's gloss thy locks of gold ; Thy years by flow'rs might yet be told I •' What dost thou at the gliostly goal, " While yet thy years were to thy soul, " As mead yet shallow in the bowl ? " His arm about the pale ghost cast, The warrior blew a clear, loud blast ; Like frighten'd wolves the mists fled past. Grew firm the way ; worlds fl ime to light The awful peak that thrusts its height. With swift throbs upward, like a flight. Of arrows from a host close set Long meteors pierc'd its breast of jet — Again the trump his strong lips met — And at its blast blew all the dav, In broad winds on the awful W^iy ; Sun smote at San across the grey ; As reindeer smite the high-pil'd snow To find the green moss far below — They struck the mists thro' which did glow Bright vales — and on a sea afar, Lay at a sunlit harbour bar, A galley gold-saii'd like a star ! Spake the pale ghost as onward sped Heart-press'd to heart the valiant dead ; Soft the green paths beneath their tread. m 148 GISLI: THE CHIEFTAIN. '• I lov'd, this is my tale, and died — " Tlie fierce chiet hun^er'd for my bride — " Tiie sj^ear of (iisli jjierc'd my side ! " And she — her love fill'd all my need — Her vows were sweet and strong as mead ; L(jok, father — doth my heart still bleed ? " I built her round vvitl'» shaft and spear, I kept her mine for one brief year — She lc>ugh'd above my blood stain'd bier ! " Upon a far and ice-pcak'd coast My galleys by long winds were toss'd — Tliere Gisli feasted with his host. " Of warriors tr:umj)hant — he Strode out from harps and revelry ; And sped his shaft above the sea ! " Look, father, doth my heart l)leed yet ? His arrow Brynhild's arrow met — My gallies anchor'd in their rest. " Again their arrows meet — swit't lies That pierc'(i me from their smiling eyes : How fiercely hard a man's heart dies ! " She false — he false I There came a d.iv Pierc'd by the fierce chiefs spear I lay — My ghost rose shrieking from its clay. I saw on Erynhild's golden vest The shining locks of Gisli rest; I sought the Hell-way to the Blest. ■i^ CIS 1. 1: THE CIHEFTAIN. " Father, put forth thy hand and tear Their twin shafts from my heart, all bare To thee — they rankle death-like there ! 140 Said the voice of Evil to the ear of Good, "Clasp thou my strong, right hand, •'Nor shall our clasp be known or understood " By any in the land." " I, the dark gi mt, rule strongly on the earih. " Yet thou, bright one, and I " Sprang from the one great mystery — at one birth " We looked upon the sky ! " I labour at my bleak, my stern toil accuis'd *' Of all mankind — nor stay, To rest, to murmur " I huuger" or " I thirst !" Nor for my joy delay. " My strength pleads strongly with thee ; dotii any beat With hammer and wr.h stone Past tools to use them to his deep defeat — To turn them on his throne ? *' Then I ot God the mystery — toil thou with me Brother ; but \w the sight Of men who know not, I, the stern son shall be Of Darkness— Thou of Light ! " ISO THE SHELL. THE SHKLL little, whisp'ring. murm'ring sliell, say cans't thou tell to me (iood news of any stately ship that sails upon the sea ? 1 press my ear, O little shell, against thy rosy lips ; Cans't tell me tales of those who go down to the sea in ships ? VVhat, not a word ? Ah hearken, shell, I've shut the cottage door ; There's scarce a sound to drown thy voice, so silent is the moor, A bell may tinkle far away upon its purple rise ; A bee may buz among the heath — a lavrock cleave the skies. Hut if you only breathe the name I name upon my knees, Ah, surely I should catch the word above such sounds as these. And Grannie's needles click no more, the ball of yarn is done, And she's asleep outside the door where shines the merry sun. One night while Grannie slept, I dreamed he came across the moor. And stood, so handsome, brown and tall, beside the open donr : I THE SHELL. I^I I thought I turned to pick a rose that by the sill had blown, (He liked a rose) and when I looked, O shell, I was alone ! Across the moor there dwells a wife ; she spaed my for- tune true, And said I'd plight my troth with one who wore a jacket blue \ That morn before my Grannie woke, just when the lap- wing stirred, I sped across the misty rise and sought the old wife's word. With her it was the milking time, and while she milk'd the goat, I ask'd her then to spae my dream, my heart was m my throat — l)Ut that was just because the way had been so steep and long, And not because I had the fear that anything was wrong. " Ye'U meet, ye'll meet," was all she said ; " Ve'll meet when it is mirk." I gave her lipjience that I meant for Sabbaih-day and kirk ; And then I hastened back again ; it seemed that never sure The happy sun delay'd so long to gild the purple moor. That's six months back, and every night 1 sit beside the door, And while I knit I keep my gaze upon the niirkv moor : 152 THE SHELL. I keep old Collie by my side — he's sure to spring and bark, When Ronald comes across the moor to meet me in the dark. I know the old wife spaed me true, for did she not fore- tell rd break a ring with Ronald Grey beside the Hidden Well ? It cjiiie to pass at shearing-time, before he went to sea (We're nighbours' bairns) how could she know that Ronald cared for me. So night by night I watch for him — by day 1 sing and work, And try to never mind the latch — he's coming in the dark ; Yet as the days and weeks and months go slipping slowly thro', I wonder if the wise old wife has spaed my fortune true ! Ah, not a word about his ship ? Well, well, I'll lay thee by. I see a heron from the marsh go sailing in the sky, The purple moor is like a dream, a star is twinkling clear — Perhaps the meeting that she spaed is drawing very near ! TPVO SONGS OF SPAIN. '53 TWO SONGS OF SPAIN. Fountain, cans't thou sing tht son^' My Juan sang to me The moonlit orange groves among ? Then list the words from me, And mark thee, by the morning's iiglit, Or by the moon's soft beam, Or when my eyes with smiles are bright, Or when I wake or dream. O, Fountain, thou must sing the song My Juan sang to me ; Yet stay — the only words I know Are "Inez, Love and Thee !" Fountain, on my light guitar I'll jjlay the strain to thee. And while I watch yon laughing star, The words will come to me. And mark diee, when my heart is sad. And lull of sweet regrets. Or when it ihrobs to lauuhter glad, Like feet to castanets. O, Fountain, thou must sing the song My Juan sang to me ; Yet stay — the only words I know Are " Inez, Love, and Thee ! " '54 Tiro SOX OS OF SPAIN. r it;! If ■■ f" Fountain, clap thy twinkling hands Beneatli yon t^oatinj^ moon, And twinkle to the starry bands That dance upon the gloom, For I am glad, for who could crave. The joyous night to fill, A richer treasure than I have In Juan's seguedille? So, Fountain, mark, no otiier song Dare ever sing to me, Tho' only four short words I know, Just, " Inez, Love and i'hee ! " Morello strikes f)n his guitar. When over the olives the star Of eve, like a rose touch'd with gold, Doih slowly its sweet rays unfold. Perchance 'tis in some city square, And the people all follow us there. Don, donna, slim chulo, padrone. The very dog runs with his bone ; One half of the squ ire is in the shade, On the other the red sunset fades ; The fount, as it flings up its jets. Responds to my brisk castanets ; I wear a red rose at my ear ; And many a whisper I hear : '' If she were a lady, behold, None other should share my red gold ! " y-fU'-.S m THE CITY TREE. •55 "St. Anthony save us, what eyes ! How gem-like her little foot flies !" "These dancers should all be forbid To dance in the streets of Madrid." "If I were a monarch I'd own No other lo sit on my throne ! " Two scarlet streamers tie my hair ; They burn like red stars on the air; My dark eyes flash, my clear cheek burns. My kirile eddies in swift turns, My golden necklet tinkles sweet ; Yes, yes, I love the crowded street ! 11*1: THE CITY TREE. I stand within the stony, arid town, I gaze for ever on the narrow street ; I hear for ever passing up and down, The ceaseless tramn of feet. I know no brotherhood with far-lork'd woods. Where branches bourgeon from a kindred »ap ; Where o'er moss'd root^, in cool, green solitudes, Small silver brooklets lap. No em'rald vines creej) wistfully to me, And lay their tender fingers on my bark ; High may I toss my boughs, yet never see Dawn's first most glorious spark. I.S6 THE CITY TREE. yi When to and fro my branches wave and sway, Answ'ring the feeble wind that faintly calls, They kiss no kindred boughs but touch alway The stones of clinii)ing walls. My heart is never pierc'd with song of bird ; My leaves know nothing of that Had unrest, Which makes a flutter in the still woods heard. When wild birds build a nest. There never glance the eyes of violets up, Blue into the deep splendour of my green : Nor falls the sunlight to the primrose cup, My quivering leave> between. Not mine, not mine to turn from soft delight Of wood-bine breathings, honey sweet, and warm ; With kin embattl'd rear my glorious height To greet the coming storm I Not mine to watch across the free, broad plains The whirl of stormy chorts sweeping fast ; The level, silver lances of great rains. Blown onward by the blast. Not mine the clamouring tempest to defy, Tossing the proud crest of my dusky leaves : Defender of small flowers that trembling lie Against my barky greaves. Not mine to wat :h the wild swan drift above, Balanced on wings that could not choose between The wooing sky, i)luc as the eye of love, And my own tender green. LATE LOVED— IVELL LOVED. 157 And yet my branches spread, a kingly sight, In the close prison of the drooping air : When sun-vex'(i noons are .U their hcry lieight. My shade is broad, and there Come cily toilers, who llieir hour oi ease Weave out to precious seconds as they He Pillow'd on horny hands, to hear the brcieze Through my great branches die. 1 see no flowers, but as the children race With noise and clamour through the dusty street, 1 see the bud of many an angel face — I hear their merry feet. No violets look up, but shy and grave, The children pause and lift their chrystal e}es To where my emerald branches call and wave — As to the mystic skies. LATE LOVED— WELL LOVED. He stood beside her in the dawn (And she his Dawn and she his Spring), From her bright palm she fed her fawn. Her swift eyes chased the swallow's wing Her restless lips, smile-haunted, cast Shrill silver calls to hound and dove : Her young locks wove them with the blast. To the fliish'd, azure shrine above, IvS LATE LOVED— WELL LOVED illi The lii^ht boughs o'er her golden head Toss'd eni'rald arm and blossom palm. The perfume of the r prayer was spread On the sweet wind in breath of balm. " Dawn of my heart," he said, " O child, Rnit thy pure eyes a space with mine : O chrystal, child eyes, undefiled. Let fair love leap from mine to thine !" The Dawn is young." she smiled and said, " Too young for Love's dear joy and woe ; Too young to crown her careless head With his ripe roses. Let me go — Unquestion'd for a longer space, Perchance, when day is at the flood, In thy true palm I'll gladly place Love's flower in its rounding bud. But now the day is all too young, The Dawn and 1 are playmates still." She slipped the blossomed boughs among, He strode beyond the violet hill. Again they stand (Imperial noon Lays her red sceptre on the earth), VVIiere golden hangings make a gloom, And far oft" lutes sing droamy mirth. The peacocks cry to lily cloud, From the white gloss of balustrade : Tall urns of gold the gloom make proud, Tall sratues whitely strike the shade, And pulse in the dim quivering light Until, most Galatea-wise — LATE LOVED- WELL LOVED. 159 Each looks from base of malacliite Wilh mystic life in limbs and eyes. H r robe (a golden wave that rose, And burst, and clung as water clings To her long curves) about her Hows. Each jewel on her white breast sings Its silent song of sun and fire. No wheeling swallows smite the skies And uuward draw the faint desire, Weaving its myst'ry in her eyes. In the white kisses of the tips Of her long fingers lies a rose, Snow-pale beside her curving lips. Red by her snowy breast it glows. " Noon of my soul," he says, " beh(^ld ! The day is lipe, the rose full blown. Love stands in panoply of gold. To Jovian height and strength now grown. No infant he, a king he stands, And pleads with thee for love again." " Ah, yes !" she says, •' in known lands. He kings it — lord of subtlest pain ; The moon is full, the rose is fair — Too fair ! 'tis neither white nor red : " I know the rose that love should wear, Must redden as the heart had bled ! The moon is mellow bright, and I Am happy in its perfect glow. The slantmg sun the rose may dye — But for the sweet noon — let me go." i6o LATE LOVED— IVELI. LOVED. She i:)aned — shimm'ring thrc tlie shade. Bent the fair splendour of her head : "Would the rich noon were past," he said. Would the pale rose were fliish'd to red!" Again. The noon is i)ast and night Binds on iris brow the blood red Mars — Down due;ky vineyards dies the fight, And blazing hamlets slay the stars. Shriek the shrill shells : the heated throats Of thundennis canon burst — and high Scales the fierce joy of bugle notes : The flame-dimm'd splendours of the sky. He, dying, lies beside his blade : Clear smiling as a warrior blest Wiih victory smiles, thro' sinister shade Gleams the White Cross upon her breast. " Soul of my soul, or is it night Or is it dawn or is it day ? I see no more nor dark nor light, I hear no more the distant fray." " 'Tis Dawn," she whispers : " Dawn at last ! Bright flush'd with love's immortal glow For me as thee, all earth is past ! Late loved — well loved, now let us go !" LA POQVETIERE. i6i LA BOUQUETIERK. Buy my ioses, citizens, — Here are roses gulden while, Like the stars that lovers watch On a pur[)le summer night. Here are roses ruddy red, Here are roses Cupid's pink : Here are roses like his ciiceks— Deeper — like his li[)s, 1 think. Vogue la galdre ! wliat if they die, Roses will bloom again — so, buy I Here is one — it should be white ; As tho' in a pla\(ul mind, Flora stole the winter snow From the sleeping norih'rn wind ; And lest he should wake and rage. Breath'd a spell of ardent pow'r On the flake, and flung it down To the earth, a snow-while flow'r. Vogue la galore ! "tis stain'd with red ? That only means — a woman's dead ! Buy my flowers, citizens, — Here's a Parma violet ; Ah ! why is my white rose red ? 'Tis the blood of a grisette ; She sohi her flowers by the quay ; Brown her eves and fair her hair ; l62 LA BOQUETIERE. Sixteen summers old, I think — With a quaint, Provincial air. Vogue la galore I she's gone the way That flesh as well as flow'rs must stray. She had a fiither old and lame ; He wove his baskets by her side ; Well, well ! 'twas fair enough to see Her look of love, his glance of pride ; He wore a beard of shaggy grey, And clumsy patches on his blouse , She wore about her neck a cross, And on her feet great wooden shoes. Vogue )a galore ! we have no cross, Th' Republic says it's gold is dross ! They had a dog, old, lame, and lean ; He once had been a noble hound ; And day by day he lay and starv'd, Or gnaw'd some bone that he had found. They shar'd with him the scanty crust. That barely foil'd starvation's pain ; He'd wag his feeble tail and turn To gnaw that polish'd bone again. Vogue la galere ! why don't ye greet My tale with laughter, prompt and meet .^ ■«' '-■'". No fear ! ye'U chorus me with laughs When draws my long jest to its close- And have for life a merry joke, "The spot of blood upon the rose." LA HOQCETIERE. i6 M She sold her flovv'rs — bu*; what of that ? The child was either good or dense ; She starv'd — for one she would not sell, Patriots, 'twas her innocence ! Vogue la galere ! poor little clod ! Like us, she could not laugh at God. A week ago I saw a crowd Of red-caps ; and a Tricoteuse Caird as I hurried swiftly past — " They've taken little Wooden Shoes !" Well, so they had. Come, laugh, I say ; Your laugh with mine should come in pat ! For she, the little sad-fac'd child. Was an accurs'd aristocrat ! Vogue la gal^Pi I the Republic's said Saints, angels, nobles, all are dead. " The old man, too !" shriek'd out the crowd ; She turn'd her small white face about ; And ye'd have laugh'd to see the air With which she flic'd that rabble rout I 1 laugh'd, I know — some laughter breeds A merry moisture in the eye : My cheeks were wet, to see her hand Try to push those brawny patriots by. Vogue la galore ! we'll laugh nor weep When Death, not God, calls us to sleep "Not Jean !" she said, "'tis only I That noble am — take only me ; 164 LA BOQUETIERE, 1 only am his foster-child, — He nurs'd me on his knee ! See ! he is guiltless of the crime Of noble hirth — and lov'd me not, Because I claim an old descent, But that he nurs'd me m his cot !" V(3.gue la galore ! the sun is red — And will be. Patriots, when we're dead. " Child ! my dear child !" he shriek'd; she turn'd And let i ^e patriots close her round; He was so lame, he fell behind — He and the starving hound. " Let him go free !'' yeli'd out the mob ; " Accurs'd be these nobles all ! The poor old wretch is craz'd it seems ; Blood, Citizens, will pall. Vogue la galdre ! We can't buy wine. So let blood flow — be't thine or mine." I ply my trade about the Place Where proudly reigns La Guillotine ; J LA BOQUETIERE. 165 I pile my basket up with bloom, With mosses soft and green. This morning, not an hour ago, 1 stood beside a Tricoteuse ; And saw the little fair head fall Off" the little Wooden Shoes. Vogue la galere ! By Sanson's told, Into his basket, dross and gold. She died alone. A woman drew As close beside her as she might ; And in t lat woman's basket lay A rose all si.owy white. But sixteen summers old — a child As one might say — to die alone; Ah. well — it is the only way These nobles can atone ! Vogue la gal5re ! here is my jest — My white rose redden'd from her breast ! Buy my roses. Citizens ! Here's a vi'let — here's a pink — Deeper tint than Cupid's cheek ; Deeper than his lips, I think. Flora's nymphs on rosy fett Ne'er o'er brighter blossoms sprang ! Ne'er a songster sweeter blooms, In his sweetest rhyming sang I Vogue la galore ! Roses must die — Roses will grow again — so, buy ! 1 66 CURTIUS. CURTIUS. How spake the Oracle, my Curtius, how ? Methought, while on the shadow'd terraces I walked and looked towards Rome, an e( ho came, or legion wails, blent into one deep cry. " O, Jove !" I thought, " the Oracles have said ; And saying, touched some swiftly answering chord, Gen'ral to ev'ry soul." And then my heart (I being here alone) beat strangely loud ; Responsive to the cry — and my still soul, Inform'd me thus : " Not such a harmony Could spring from aught within the souls ol men," But that which is most common to ail souls. Lo ! that is sorrow !" '* Nay, Curtius, I could smile, To tell thee as I listen'd to the cry, Ho;"^ on the silver flax which blew about The ivory distaff in my languid hand, I found large tears ; such big and rounded drops As gather thro' dark nights on cypress boughs, And I was sudden anger'd, for I thought : " Why should a gen'ral wail come home to me With such vibration in my trembling heart. That such great tears should rise and overflow ?" Then shook them on the marble where I pac'd ; Where instantly they vanished in the sun, As di'monds fade in flames, 'twas foolish, Curtius ! And then methought how strange and lone it seem'd. For till thou cam'st I seem'd to be alone, CVRTIUS, 167 On the vin'd terrace, prison'd in the gold Of that still noontide hour. No widows stole Up the snow-giimmering marble of the steps To take my alms and bless the Gods and me ; Xo orphans touched the fringes of my robe With innocent babe-fingers, nor drojjped the gold I laid in their soft palms, to laugh, and stroke The jewels on my neck, or touch the rose Thou sayest, Curtius, lives u.)on my cheek. Perchance all lingered in the Roman streets To catch first tidings from the Oracles. The very peacocks drows'd in distant shades, Nor sought my hand for honey'd cake ; and high A hawk sailed blackly in the clear blue sky, And kept my doves from cooing at my feet. My lute lay there, bound with the small white buds, Which, laughing this bright morn, thou brought and Around it as I sang — but with that Wuil [wreath'd Dying across the vines and pur[)le slopes, And breaking on its strings, 1 did not care To waken music, nor in truth could force My voice or fingers to it, so I stray'd Where hangs thy best loved armour on the wall, And pleased myself by filling it with thee ! 'Tis yet the goodliest arm )ur in proud Rome, Say all the armourers ; all Rome and I Know ihee^ the lordliest bearer of a sword. Yet, Curtius, stay, there is a rivet lost From out the helmet, and a ruby gone From the short sword hilt — trifles both which can Be righted by to-morrow's noon — "to-morrow's noon I" 1 68 CUKTIUS. Was there a change, my Curtius, in my voice When spake I ihose three words : "to-morrow's noon?" O, I am full of dre.ims — metliought there was. " Why, love, hi>w darkly gaze ihiiie eyes in mine ! If lov'd I dismal thoughts I well could deem Thou Sciw'st not the blue of my fond eyes, But look'd between the lips of that dread pit — O, Jove ! to name it seems to curse the air With chills of death — we'll not speak of it, Curtius. When I had dimm'd thy shield with ki>il&iA THE DEACOX AX/) ///^ DAUGHTER IS J An' sort of danced upon the floor, Chas'd by the tabby kitten ; I.osh ! to see the critter's big surprise, When them beams slipped into Minta's eyes ! An' down her brow her pretty hair Cum curlin', crinkiin', creepin', In leetle, yaller mites of rings, Inter them bright eyes peepin', Es run the tendrils of the vine, To whar the merry sunbeams shine. But losh ! her smile was dreadful shy, An' kept her white lids under ; Jest as when darkens up the sky An' growls ;iway the thunder; Them skeery speckled trout will hide Beneath them while pond lilies' pride ! An' then her heart, 'twas made ciar through Of Californy metal, Chock full (){ things es sugar sweet Es a presarvin' kettle. The beaux went crazed fur menny a mile When I got thet kettle on the bile. The good old deacon's gone to whar Thar ain't no wild contentions On Buildin* Funds' Committees and No taxes nor exemptions. Yet still I sort of feel he preaches, And Minta Ann preserves my peaches. 1 82 SAID THE SKMARK. SAID THE SKYLARK. " () soft, small cloud, the dim, sweet dawn adorning. Swan-like a-sailing on its tender grey ; Why dost thou, dost tliou float. So high, the wing'd, wild note Of silver lamentation from my dark and pulsing throat May never reach thee, Tho' every note beseech thee To bend thy white wings downward thro' the smiling of [the morning, And by the black wires of my prison lightly stray ? '* O dear, small cloud, when all blue morn is ringing With sweet notes piped from other throats than mine ; If those glad singers please The tall and nodding trees — If to them dance the pennants of the swaying columbine, If to their songs are set The dance of daffodil and trembling violet — Will they pursue thee With tireless wings as free and bold as thine ? Will they woo thee With love throbs in the music of their singing ? Ah, nay ! fair Cloud, ah, nay ! Their hearts a i vings will stay With yellow bud of primrose and soft blush of the May ; Their songs will thrill and die, SAID THE SKYLARK. 183 Tranc'd in the perfume of the rose's breast. While I must see thee fly With white, broad, lonely pinions down the sky. " O fair, small cloud, unheeding o'er me straying, Jeweird with topaz light of fading stars ; Thy downy edges red As the great eagle of the Dawn sails high And sets his fire-bright head And wind-blown pinions towards thy snowy breast : And thou canst blush while I Must pierce myself with song and die On the bald sod behind my prison bars ; Nor feel upon my crest Thy soft, sunn'd touches delicately playing ! " O fair, small cloud, grown small as lily flow'r ! h^ven while I smite the bars to see thee fade ; The wind shall bring thee The strain I sing thee — 1, in wired prison stay'd, Worse than the breathless j^rimrose glade. That in my morn, I shrilly sang to scorn ; ril burst my heart up to thee in this hour . •' O fair, small cloud, float nearer yet and hear me ! A prison'd lark once lov'd a snowy cloud, Nor did the Day With sapphire lips, and kiss Of summery bliss. 1 84 WAR. Draw all her soul away ; Vainly the fervent East Deck'd her with roses for their bridal feast ; She would not rest In his red arms, but slipped adown the air And wan and fair, Her light foot touch'd a purple mountain cresr, And touching, turn'd Into swift rain, that like to jewels burn'd ; In the great, wondering azure of the sky ; And while a rainbow spread Its mighty arms above, she, singing, fled To the lone-feather'd slave, In his sad weird grave. Whose heart upon his silver song had sped To her in days of old, In dawns of gold, And murmuring to him, said : ** O love, I come ! O love, I come to cheer thee- Love, to be near thee I" WAR. Shake, shake the earth with giant tread, Thou red-maned Titian bold ; For every step a man lies dead, A cottage hearth is cold. iVAR. i«5 Take up the babes with maileci hands, Transfix them with thy spears, Spare not the chaste young virgin- bands, Tho' blood may be their tears. Beat down the corn, tear up the vine, The w ters turn to blood ; And if the wretch for bread doth whine, Give him his kin for food. Aye, strew the dead to saddle girth, They make so rich a mould, Thoul't thus enrich the wasted earth — They'll turn to yellow gold. On with thy thunders, shot and shell, Send screaming, featly hurl'd ; Science has made them in her cell. To civilize the world. Not, not alone where Christian men Pant in the well-arm'd strife ; But seek the juui^le-throitled glea — The savaiJfe has a life. W. He has a soul — so ])riests will say — Go ! save it with thy sword ; Thro' his rank forests force thy way. Thy war cry, " For the Lord ! " Rip up his mines, and from his strands Wash out the c^old with l)i(Jod — Religion raises blessinuj hands, " War's evil worketh good ! " 1 86 IVA/C. When striding o'er the conquer'd land, Silence thy rolling drum, And led by white-robed choiring bands With loud " 2e Deiim " come. Seek the grim chancel, on its wall Thy blood-stiff banner hang; They lie who say thy blood is gall. Thy tooth the serpent's fang. See ! the white Christ is lifted high, Thy conquering sword to bless ; Smiles the pure monarch of the sky — Thy king can do no less. Drink deep with him the festal wine, Drink with him drop for drop ; If, like the sun, his throne doth shine, Thou art that throne's prop. If spectres wait upon the bowl, Thou needs not be afraid. Grin hell-hounds for thy bold black soul, His purple be thy shade. Go ! feast with Commerce, be her spouse ; She loves thee, thou art hers — For thee she decks her board and house, Then how may others curse If she, mild-seeming matron, leans Upon thine iron neck. And leaves with thee her household scenes To follow at thy beck — THE SWORD. 187 Bastard in brotherhood of kings, Their blood runs in thy veins, For them the crowns, the sword that swings, For thee to hew their chains. For thee the rending of the prey — They, jackals to the lion. Tread after in the gory way Trod by the mightier scion. O slave ! that slayest other slaves, O'er vassals crowned, a king ! War, build high thy throne with graves, High as the vulture's wing ! THE SWORD. THE FORGING OF THE SWORD. At the forging of the Sword — Tiie mountain roots were stirr'd, Like the heart-beats of a bird ; Like flax the tall trees wav'd. So fiercely struck the Forgers of the Sword. At the forging of the Sword — So loud the hammers fell, The thrice seal'd gates of Hell, Burst wide their glowing jaws ; Deep roaring, at the forging of the Sword. 1 88 THE SIVOKD. At the forging of the Sword — Kind mol.er Earth was rent, Like an Arab's dusky tent, And monster-like she fed On her children ; at the forging of the Sword. At the forging of the Sword — So loud the blows they gave, Up sprang the panting wave ; And blind and furious slew, Shrill-shouting to tne Forgers of the Sword. At the forging of the Svvord — The startled air swift whirl'd The red flames round the world, From the Anvil where was smitten. The steel, the Forgers wrought into the Sword. At the forging of the Sword — Tht Maid and Matron fled, And hid them with the dead ; Fierce prophets sang their doom. More deadly, than the wounding of the Sword. At the forging of tiic Sword — Swift leapM the quiet hearts In the meadows and the marts ; The tides of men were drawn. By the gleaming sickle-planet of the Sword ! Thus wert thou forged, O lissome sword ; On such dusk anvil wert thou wrought ; THE SWORD. 189 In such red flames thy metal fused ! From such deep hells that metal brought ; O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word. But dumbly rul'st, king and lord ! Less than the Gods by some small span, Slim sword, how great thy lieges be ! Glint but in one wild camp-fire's light. Thy God-like vassals rush to thee. O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word, But dumbly rul'st, king and lord ! Sharp, God, how vast thy altars be 1 Green vallies, sacrificial cups, Flow with the purple lees of blood ; Its smoke is round the mountain tops. O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word. But dumbly rul'st, king and lord ! amorous God, fierce lover thou I Bright sultan of a million brides, Thou know'st no rival to thy kiss. Thy loves are thine whate're betides, O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word. But dumbly rul'st, king and lord. Unflesh thee, sword I No more, no more, Thy steel no more shall sting and shine, Pass thro' the fusing fires again ; And learn to prune the laughing vine. Fall sword, dread lord, with one accord, The plough and hook we'll own as lord ! IQO A' OSES IN MADRIIK ROSES IN MADRID. Roses, Senors, roses ! Love is subtly hid In the fragrant roses, Blovm in gay Madrid. Roses, Senors, roses ! Look, look, look, and see Love hanging in the roses, Like a golden bee ! Ha ! ha ! shake the roses — Hold a palm below ; Shake him from the roses, Catch the vagrant so ! High I toss the roses From my brown palm up ; Like the wine that bubbles From a golden cup. Catch the rOi;es, Senors, Light on finger tips ; He who buys red roses, Dreams of crimson lips ! Tinkle ! my fresh roses. With the rare dews wet ; Clink ! my crisp, red roses. Like a castanet ! L /WSES AV MAI^RID \m Roses, Senors, roses, Come, Hidalgo, buy ' Proudly wait my roses For thy rose's eye. Be thy rose as statel) As a pacing deer ; Worthy are my roses To burn behind her ear. Ha ! ha ! I can see thee, Where the fountains foam, Twining my red roses In her golden comb ! Roses, Donnas, roses, None so fresh as mine, Pluck'd at rose of morning By our Lady's shrine. Those that first I gatner'd Laid I at her feet, That is why my roses Still are fresh and sweet. Roses, Donnas, roses ! Roses waxen fai/ ! Acolytes my roses, Censing ladies' pray'r ] Roses, roses, roses ! Hear the tawny bull Thund'ring in the circus — Buy your arms full. 192 BETWEEN THE IV/XD AND RAIN. Roses by the dozen ! Roses by the score ! Pelt the victor with them — Bull or Toreador ! BETWEEN THE WIND AND RAIN. " The storm is in the air,'' she said, and held Her soft palm to the breeze ; and looking up, Swift sunbeams brush'd the crystal of her eyes, As swallows leave the skies to skim the brown. Bright woodland lakes. " The rain is in the air. " O Prophet Wind, what hast thou told the rose, '' That suddenly she loosens her red heart, " And sends long, perfum'd sighs about the place ? '' O Prophet Wind, what hast thou told the Swift, " That from the airy eave, she, shadow-grey, " Smites the blue pond, and speeds her glancing wing " Close to the daffodils? What hast thou told small bells, *' And tender buds, that — all unlike the rose — " They draw green leaves close, close about their breasts " And shrink to sudden slumber ? The sycamores " In ev'ry leaf are eloquent with thee ; " The poplars busy all their silver tongues With answ'ring thee, and the round chestnut stirs Vastly but softly, at thy prophecies. " The vines grow dusky with a deeper green — a a BETWEEN THE WIXD AX/) KAIN. »93 " And with their tendrils snatch thy passing liarp, •' And keep it by brief seconds in their leaves. •' O Prophet Wind, thou tallest of the ram, " While, jacinth blue, the broad sky folds calm palms, •' Unwitting of all storm, high o'er the land ! " The Httle grasses and the ruddy heath '* Know of the coming rain ; but towards the sun " The eagle lifts his eyes, and with his wings " Beats on a sunlight that is never marr'd •' By cloud or mist, shrieks his fierce joy to air " Ne'er stirr'd by stormy pulse." " The eagle mine," I said : " O I would ride " His wings like Ganymede, nor ever care " To drop upon the stormy earth again, — " But circle star- ward, narrowing my gyres, '* To some great planet of eternal peace." " Nay," said my wise, young love, " the eagle falls " Back to his cliff, swift as a thunder-bolt ; " For there his mate and naked eaglets dwell, " And there he rends the dove, and joys in all " The fierce delights of his tempestuous home. " And tho' the stormy Earth throbs thro' her poles — With tempests rocks upon her circling path — And bleak, black clouds snatch at her purple hills — " While mate and eaglets shriek upon ihe rock — " The eagle leaves the hylas to its calm, " Beats the wild storm apart that rings the earth, " And seeks his eyrie on the wind-dash'd clifi". " O Propliet Wind ! close, close the storm and rain !" Long sway'd the grasses like a rolling wave Above an undertow — the mastiff cried ; u u 194 BETWEEN THE WIND AND RAIN. Low ^.\ jpt the poplars, groaning in their b.earts; And ir'jn footed stood the gnarl'd oaks, And brac'd their woody thews against the storm Lash'd from the pond, the iv'ry cygnets sought The carven steps that plung'd into the pool ; The peacocks scream'd and dragg'd forgotten plumes. On tne sheer turf — all shadows subtly died, In one large shadow sweeping o'er the land ; Ijiight windows in the ivy blush'd no more ; The ripe, red walls ^rew pale — the tall vane dim ; Like a swift offering to an angry God, O'erweighted vines shook plum and apricot, From trembling trellis, and the rose trees pour'd A red libation of sweet, ripen'd leaves, On the trim walks. To the high dove-cote set A stream of silver wings and violet breasts. The hawk-like storm swooping on their track, " Go," said my love, " the storm would whirl me off " As thistle-down, I'll shelter here — but you — " You love no storms !" " Where thou art," I said, " Is all the calm I know — wert thou enihron'd " On the pivot of the winds — or in the maelstrom, " Thou holdest in thy hand my palm of peace ; " And, like the eagle, I would break the belts " Of shouting tempests to return to thee, " Were I above the storm on broad wings. " Yet no she-eagle thou ! a small, white, lily girl " I clasp and lift and r^.rry from the rain, " Across the windy lawn." With this I wove Her floating lace about her floating hair, yOY'S CI TV. •95 And crush'd her snowy raiment to my breas!. And while she thought of frowns, but smil'd instead. And wrote her heart in crimson on her cheeks, I bounded with her up the breezy slopes, The storm about us with such airy din. As of a thousand bugles, that my heart Took courage in the clamor, and I laid My lips upon the flow'r of her pink ear, And said : " I love thee ; give me love again !" And here she pal'd, love has its dread, and then She clasp'd its joy and redden'd in its light, Till all the daffodils 1 trod were pale Beside the small flow'r red upon my breast. And ere the dial on the slope was pass'd, Between the last loud bugle ot the Wind And the first silver coinage of the Rain, Upon my flying hair, there came iier kiss. Gentle and pure ui)on my face — and thus Were we betrotii'd between the Wind and Rain. JOY'S CITY. Joy's City hath high battlements of gold ; Joy's City hath her streets of gem-wrought flow'rs She hath her palaces high reared and bold, And tender shades of perfumed lily bowers ; But ever day by day, and ever night by night, An Angel measures still our City of Delight. 196 yOY'S CITY. He hath a rule of gold, and never stays, But ceaseless round the burnish'd ramparts glides ; He measures minutes of Iier joyous days, Her walls, her trees, the music of her tides ; The roundness of her buds — Joy's own fair city lies. Known to its heart-core by his stern and thoughtful eyes. Above the sounds of timbrel and of song. Of greeting friends, of lovers 'mid the flowers, The Angel's voice arises clear and strong : " O City, by so many leagues thy bow'rs Stretch o'er the plains, and in the fair high-lifted blue So many cubits rise thy tovv'rs beyond the view." Why dost thou. Angel, measure Joy's fair walls ? Unceasing glidmg by their burnish'd stones ; Go, rather measure Sorrow's gloomy halls ; Her cypress bow'rs, her charnel-house of bones ; Her groans, her tears, the rue in her jet chalices ; But leave unmeasured more, Joy's fairy palaces. The Angel spake : '^ Joy hath her limits set, But Sorrow hath no bounds — Joy is a guest Perchance may enter ; but no heart puls'd yet, Where Sorrow did not lay her down to rest ; She hath no city by so many leagues confm'd, I cannot measure bounds where there are none to find." THE CANOE 197 THE CANOE. My masters twain made n)e a bed Of pine-boughs resinous, rind cedar ; Of moss, a soft and gentle breeder Of dreams of rest ; and me they spread With furry skins, and Liughing said, " Now she shall lay her polish"d sides, As queens do rest, or dainty brides, Our slender lady of the tides !" My masters twain their camp-soul lit. Streamed incense from the hissing c>)nes. Large, crimson flishes grew and whirl'd Thin, golden nerves of sly light curl'd Round the dun camp, and rose faint zones, Half way about each griai bole knit, Like a shy child that would bedeck With its soft clasp a Brave's red neck ; Yet sees the rough shield on his breast, The awful plumes shake on his crest, And fearful dro[)s his linnd face, Nor dares complete the sweet embrace. Into the hollow hearts of brakes, Yet warm from sides of does and stags, Pass'd to the crisp dark river Hags ; Sinuous, red as copper snakes. Sharp-headed serpents, made of light. Glided and hid themselves in night. 198 I HE CANOE. Vly masters twain, the slaiighter'd deer Hung on fork'd boughs — with ihongs of leather. Bound were his stiff, slim feet together — His eyes like dead stars cold and drear \ The wand'ring firelight drc.v near And laid its wide palm, red and anxious, On the sharp splendor of his branches ; On the white foam grown hard and sere On flank and shoulder. I)i .ith — hard as breast of granite boulder, And under his lashes Pecr'd ihro' his eyes at his life's grey ashes. My masters twain sai)g songs that wove (A^ they burnisli'd hunting blade and rifle) A golden threaii with a cobweb trifle — l.oiid of the chase, and low of love. " O Love, art thou a silver fish ? Shy of the line and shy of gaffing. Which v;e do follow, fierce, yet laughing. Casting at thee the light wing'd wish, And at the last shall we bring thee up From the crystal darkntss under the cup Of lily foldtrn, On broad leaves golden ? " O Love I art thou a silver deer, Swift thy starr'd feet as wing of swallow, While we with rushing arrows follow ; And at the last shall we draw near. And over thy velvet neck cast thongs — Woven of roses, of stars, of songs ? " J/r ALV BONNIE LASS 0' THE GLF.Nr 199 New chains all inouldtMi Of rare gsims olden I" They hung the slaiighter'd fish Hke sword., On sapHngs slender — like scimitars Bright, and ruddied from new-dead wars, Blaz'd in the light — the scaly hordes. They pil'd up boughs beneath the trees, Of cedar-web and green fir tassel ; Low did the pointed pine tops rustle, The camp fire blush'd to the tender breeze. The hounds laid dew-laj)s on the ground, With needles of pine sweet, soft and rusty— Dream'd of the dead stag stout and lusty ; A bat by the red flames wove its round. The darkness built its wigwam walls Close round the camp, and at its curtam Press'd shapes, thin woven and uncertain, As white locks of tall waterfalls. "MY AIN BONNIE LASS O' THE (ILEN." Ae blink o' the bonnie new mune, Ay tinted as sune as she's seen, Wad licht me to Meg frae the toun, Tho' mony the brae-side between : 200 'MY AIN BOiWNIE LASS O' THE GLEXr Ae fuff o' the saftest o' win's, As wilyart it kisses the thorn, Wad blavv me o'er kn iggies an' linns — To Meg by the side o' the bum ! My daddie's a laird wi' a ha' ; My mither had kin at the court ; I maunna gang wooin' ava' — Or ony sic froHcsome sport. Gin I'd wed — there's a winnock kept bye, Wi' bodies an' gear i' her lool — Gin ony tak her an' her kye, Hell glunsh at himsel' for a coof ! My daddie's na doylt, tho' he's auld, The winnock is pawkie an' gleg ; When the lammies are pit i' the iauld, They're fear'd that I'm aff to my Mi g. My mither sits spinnin' — ae blink O' a smile in her kind, bonnie 'ee ; She's minded o' mony a link She, stowlins, took o'er the lea To meet wi' my daddie himsel'^ Tentie jinkin' by lea an' by shaw ; She fu's up his pipe then hersel', So I may steal cannie awa'. O leeze me o' gowany swaird, An' the blink o' the bonnie new mune ! An' the cowt stown out o' the yaird That trots like a burnie in June ! THE WHITE BULL. 201 My Meg she is waitin' abeigh — Ilk spunkie that flits through the fen Wad jealously lead me astray Frae my ain bonnie lass o' the glen ! My forbears may groan i' the mools, My daddie look dour an' din ; Wee Love is the callant wha rules. An' my Meg is the wifie I'll win ! THE WHITE BULL. Ev'ry dusk eye in Madrid, Flash'd blue 'neath its lid ; As the cry and the clamour ran round, " The king has been crown'd ! And the brow of his bride has been bound With the crown of a queen 1" And between Te Deum and salvo, the roar Of the crowd in the square. Shook tower and bastion and door, And the marble of altar and floor ; And high in the air, The wreaths of the incense were driven To and fro, as are riven The leaves of a lily, and cast By the jubilant shout of the blast To and fro, to and fro, 202 rilE WHITE BULL. And they fell in the chancel and nave, As the lii^ falls back on the wave, And trembl'd and faded and died, As the white petals tremble and shiver, And fade in the tide Of the jewel dark breast ot the river. •' Ho, gossips, the wonderful news ! I have worn two holes m my shoes, With the race I have run ; And, like an old graj^e in the sun, I am shriveird with drought, for I ran Like an antelope rather than man. Our King is a kini,' of Spaniards indeed, And he loves to see the bold bull bleed ; And the Queen is a queen, by the saints right fit, In half of the Spanish throne to sit ; Tho' blue her eyes and wanly fair. Her cheek, and her neck, and her flaxen hair ; For free and full — She can lauj^h as she watches the staggering bull ; And tap on the jewels of her fan, While horse and man. Reel on in a ruby rain of gore ; And pout her lip at the Toreador; And fling a jest If he leave the fight with unsullied vest. No crack on his skin. Where the bull's sharp horn has entered in. Caramba, gossips, I would not be king, And rule and reign Over wine-shop, and palace, and all broad Spain, THE IVHITE IWLL. 203 If under my wing I had not a mate who couid joy to the full, In the gallant death of a man or a bull !" " What is the news That has worn two holes in my Saints'-day shoes, And parch'd me so witli heat and speed, That a skin of wine down my throat must bleed ? Why this, there's a handsome Hidalgo at Court, And half in sport, Me scour'd the country far and wide, For a gift to j)leasure the royal bride ; And on the broad j)lains of the Guadalquiver He gave a pull-- To the jeweird bridle and silken rein, That m.ide his stout horse rear and shiver ; For in the dusk reeds of the silver river — Like the angry stars that redly fly From the dark blue peaks of the midnight sky. And smouldering^ lie. Blood-red till they die In the blistering ground — the eyes he saw Of a bull without blemish, or speck, or flaw. And a hide as white as a dead saint's soul — Wuh many a clinking of red pistole ; And draughts of S(Hir wine from the herdsman's bowl, He paid the full Price in bright gold of the brave white bull. " Comrades we all From the pulpit tall Have heard the fat friars say God has decreed 204 THE W^^ITE BULL. That the peasant shall sweat and the soldier shall And Hidalgo and King [bleed, May righteously wring Sweat and blood from us all, weak, strong, young And turn the tax into Treasury gold. [and old. Well, the friar knows best, Or why wear a cowl ? And a cord round his breast ? So why should we scowl ? The friar is learned and knows the mind, From core to rind, Of God, and the Virgin, and ev'ry saint That a tongue can name or a brush can paint ; And I've heard him declare — With a shout that shook all the birds in the air. That two kinds of clay Are used in God's Pottery every day. The finest and best he pats in a mould Of purest gold, Stamped with the mark of His signet rmg. And He turns them out, (While the angels shout) The Pope and the priest, the Hidalgo and King ! And He gives them dominion full and just O'er the creatures He kneads from the comm. n dust, And the clay, stamped with His proper sign, Has right divine To the sweat, and the blood and the ben(leut I would have her smile ripe for me then, Swift treasure of a moment — so I laid Between her palms a little simj^le thing, A golden heart, grav'd with my name alone, And round it, twining close, small shamrocks link'd Of gold, mere gold : no jewels made it rich, Until twm di'monds shatter'd from her eyes And made the red gold rare. " True Knight,'" she said, " Your English heart with Irish shamrocks bound !" " A golden prophet of eternal truth," I said, and kissed the roses of her palms. And then, the shy, bright roses of her lips, And all the jealous jewels shone forgot In necklace and tiara, as I clasp'd The gold heart and its shamrocks round her neck. My fair, pure soul I My noble Irish love ! r A IIU\GRY PAY 221 A HUNGRY DAY. I mind him well, he was a quare ou'd chap, Come like meself from swate ould Erin s sod. He hired me wanst to help his harvest in ; The crops w.is tine that summer, prais'd be God ! He found us, Rosie, Mickie, an' meself, Just landed in the emigration slied, Meself was tyin' on there bits of clothes. Their mother (rest her tender sowl !) vvas dend. It's not meself can say of what she died ; But t'was the year the praties felt the rain, And rotted in the soil ; an' just to dhraw The breath of lite was one long hungry i>ain. If we were haythens in a furrin' land, Not in a country grand in Christian pride, Faith, then a man might have the face to say 'Twas of stharvation my poor Shylie died. But whin the parish docthor ccme at last, Whin death was like a sun-burst in her eyes, (They looked straight into heaven) an her ears Wor deaf to the poor childer's hungry cries ; He touched the bones stretched on the mouldy sthraw ; '• She's gone !" he says, and drew a solemn frown ; *' I fear, my man, she's dead." " Of what ?" says ]. He coughed, and says, " She's let her system down !'' :22 A HUNGRY DAY. " An that's God's truth !" says 1, an' felt about To touch her dawney hand, for all looked dark, An' in my hunger-bleached, shmall-beatin" heart, I felt the kindlin' of a burning spark. *' O, by me sowl, that is the holy truth ! There's Rosie's cheek has kept a dimple still, An' Mickie's eyes are, bright — the craythur there Died that the weeny ones might eat there fill." An' wiiin they spread the daisies thick and white. Above her head that wanst lay on my breast, I had no tears, but took the childhers' hands, An' says, " We'll lave the mother to her rest," An' och ! the sod was green that summers day : An' rainbows crossed the low hills, blue an' fair ; But black an' foul the blighted furrows stretched. An' sent their cruel poison through the air. An' all was quiet — on the sunny sides Of hedge an' ditch the stharvin* craythurs lay, An' thim as lack'd the rint from empty walls Of little cabins, wapin' turned away. God's curse lay heavy on the poor ould sod, An' whin upon her increase His right hand Fell with'ringly, there samed no bit of blue For Hope to shine through on the sthricken land. No facthory chimblys shmoked agin the sky, No mines yawn'd on the hills so full an' rich ; A man whose praties failed had nought to do, But fold his hands an' die down in a ditch ! A HUS'GRY DAY. 22' A flame rose up widin me feeble heart, Whin passin' through me cabin's liiiigcless dure, I saw the mark of ShyHe's cofiin in The grey dust on the empty earthen fliire. I Hfted Rosie's face betwixt me hands ; Says I, ' Me girleer. you an' Mick an' me, Must lave the green ould sod, an' look for food In thim strange countries far beyant the sea." An' so it chanced, when landed on the streets, Ould Dolan, rowlin' a quare ould shay. Came there to hire a man to save his whate. An' hired meself and Mickie by the day. " An' bring the girleen, Pat," he says, an' looked At Rosie lanin' up agin me knee ; "The wife will be right plaised to see the chihi, The weeney shamrock t'rom beyant the sea. We've got a tidy place, the saints be praised ! As nice a farm as ever brogan trod, A hundred acres — us as never owned Land big enough to make a lark a sod !" I" *' Bedad," sez I, " I heerd them over there Tell how the goold was lyin' in the sthreet, An' guineas in the very mud that sthuck To the ould brogariS on a poor man's feet " Begorra, Pat," says Dolan, " may ould Nick Fly off wid thim rapscallions, schaming rogues. An' sind thim thrampin' purgatory's flure, Wid red hot guineas in their polished brogues !" 224 A HUNGRY DAY. " Och, thin," says I, " meself agrees to tliat !" Ould Dolan smiled vvid eyes so bright an' grey ; Says he " Kape up yer heart — I never knew Since I come out a single hungry day 1" '• Hut thin I left the crowded city sthreets, There men galore to toil in thim an' die, Meself wint wid me axe to cut a home In the green woods beneath the clear, swate sky. " I did that same : an' God be prais'd this day ! Plenty sits smiiin' by me own dear dure : An' in them years I never wanst have seen A famished child creep tremblin' on me ilure I' I listened to ould Dolan's honest words, That's twenty years ago this very spring. An' Mick is married — an' me Rosie wears A swateheart's little, shinin' goulden ring. 'Twould make yer heart lape just to take a look At the green fields upon me own big farm ; An' God be prais'd ! all men may have the same That owns an axe ! an' has a strong right arm I