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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmAs en commenpant par la premiAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustratlon et en terminant par la dernlAre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la derniire image de cheque microfiche, seion le cas: le symbols — ► signifle "A SUIVRE ", le symbols V signifle "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmte A des taux de reduction diff Arents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul cllchA, 11 est fllmA A partir da Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessalre. Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■%F:r^ L. 1 I THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. E$Y WAT. \»^^ V.V \^ W. C. KING & CO., Publishers, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 1886. /^' "t\s-,f^'-'j;^U, r P5'2>\5'] j^ Entbrbd according to Act of Conqrbss, in thb Ybar 1886, Wfp. WATSON, ^ i-r-CCwOJU. W^t- By •1 K-* In thr OrncB of thb Lidrarian op CongHsss at Wasninctoh. (XM- B Ybar 1886, T Washington. ?A^ :0 .1 CL -^1 S-v^ INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR, AS A TOKEN OF LOVE AND THANKFULNESS TO HIS MOTHER, I. B. W. -^1 I^S- , Hi^ ■mB^m^^^^^^.' CONTBNTS. The CiiiLDHEN OK the Sun, 9 VEKY LONCi, ^' MOOEKN FlDELITV ^'^ MACDONALn's Lament 54 The Comkt *' Bee Eye's Address to His Sister, ..... 6l l'EDAf;o(iicAL Cogitations ^3 Farewell ' Lament ior Daw °7 Maggie, . '* COLLEGE POEMS. That Pianay, "^^ Sam and the Organ Grinder -78 The Freshman's Monody, 8o The Freshman's Story, ^4 The Freshman and the Horse, 89 The Junior's Farewell to Greek, 93 Sandy's Lindon, 9* HouLTON Academy, . .100 p k 9 47 49 54 57 6i 63 65 67 70 75 78 80 84 89 93 98 100 ^44|S*-^i> t'-vsivl-'' I'lJBI.ISHKKS' NOTE. Wb sGnd farth this little vnlumB, firmly be,- liBving that it will find a place in tiie hames and hearts of the people, where it Awill he treas- ured far its true worth. W, C, KING & CD. tSr>rln«»'lfc'l<'. Muss. IKWd. ' /m\ ■ c - :ae^ ' TJavs^r ^ THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. O him who traverses old ocean's plain, And braves the dangers of his wide domain, In ail the world wherever he may go Where, mountains rise and foamy torrents flow, From ocean's wave approaching any strand, No picture rises more sublimely grand Than that unfolded to the sailor's view From the far waves of the Pacific blue, Who sees in panoramic view unfurled A southern fragment of the western world. Colossal mountains o'er the waters rise In rugged contour on the eastern skies, .^mmamamsumi idMlMi MJiiiffiiiiwMiiiWW 1; 10 ,lli THE CIllLDKEN OF THE SUN. Peak after peak, to north and south they lay, Until remotely dim and far away, Outlined, uncertain, filmy, and fair, The shadowy specters of the lower air. When distance her weird penciling has given. They mingle with the azure tints of heaven. A wondrous cctinent. where Nature's hand Hath wrought in scale magnificent and grand; Where noblest rivers of a planet pour Their mighty waters on Atlantic's shore, Where forests aboriginal extend So many leagues they seem without an end. The giant mangrove spreads his branches wide. The cocoa, cinchona, and palm beside. Through their dense covering, matted, gnarled, and gray The cheering sunbeam never finds its way. Around their trunks fantastically twine The tangled network of the flowering vine. k. '4^iu THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. II ly, \fcn, :n, md rand; nd. is wide, narled, and gray ay. ine. The supple jaguar dashes through the toils, The giant b* a twines his massy coils, And varied Nature in an artless mood Reigns undisputed in her solitude. Adown the Andes, where the mighty chain In two Cordilleras is rent in twain ; Between its masses sweeping far away A mountain valley in its beauty lay. The fairest spot a continent has known. It claims a climate that is aid its own. While burning summer lies upon the plain, Where stately palms are bordering the main. And swaying vines and feathery cocoa trees Wave their light pinions to the ocean breeze ; While winter muffles as a gloomy shroud Sierra's summits far above the cloud, Where sunHght flashes on eternal snow m .1 '; 13 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. Unchanged, untrodden, while the ages flow, This lovely valley in its deep repose, Nor scorching heat nor gloomy winter knows. But flowers bloom and feathered warblers sing Amid the verdure of eternal spring. And here sequestered, years and years ago, Where partial Nature's richest bounties flow. From the resplendent orb of heaven sprung, A noble people lived, and loved, and sung. Their city, prosperous and happy then, Filled up the bosom of the mountain glen. The fairest city on its sloping side, The Holy City, the Peruvian's pride. From which intelligence and culture flowed. And wealth and luxury had their abode. When was it built? And how? We may not know. For that was many, many years ago, And myth, tradition, fable, mystery, . THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 13 OW, nows. s sing igo, flow, ung, ng- len. )wed, may not know, Have settled darkly round its history. We only know that from the mountain lake. Where grows the ivy and the rustling brake, Came Manco Capac and his sister wife, To give Peru a grander, nobler life. The sun, the parent of the human race. With deep compassion on his beaming face. These his loved children to the people gave, To teach, reclaim, to civilize, and save. And now proceeded the celestial pair O'er mountain height and valley green and fair. Far to the north their sacred journey lay, Far through the lovely valley of Yucay. The mighty condor circled overhead, The hollow passes echoed to their tread. And oft they heard descending from the hill The liquid murmur of the mountain rill. Low musical its poppling waters fell rl» ».\ ' 14 THE CniLUREN OF THE SUN. In the deep pool the Naiads love SO well; And often, startled, from their coverts leap, Amazed and timid, the Peruvian sheep. The blooming valleys, opening one by one, Invited on the Children of the Sun. But Cuzco's valley, which they saw at last, All other beauties they had seen surpassed. A tropic sun in clearly mellow light Now bathed the valley beautifully bright. And warmly fell on velvet grassy slopes The promised guerdon of their fears and hopes. They bore a wedge whose talismanic spell Would soon the destiny of a people tell. The sacred emblem was to show the place • To found the city of a- heaven-born race. And when at last the travelers, weary, gain The northern border of the mountain plain,- . The wedge of gold from out the willing hand THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 15 11. ■ leap, Dne, last, ssed. Sank deep forever in the fertile land. This hallowed spot the father-God had given To raise his altars to a sniiling heaven, To found a city where the lavish hand Of nature beautified a chosen land. The noblest city since the world began, Beloved of God and very dear to man. News of their coming rumored far and near ; The simple people lent the willing ear ; Tribe after tribe they gatiiered one by one, And built the Holy City of the Sun. Their rule extended 6'er the mountains wide. The son succeeded when the father died. Beneath the Incas' mild and loving sway Melted the years in centuries away, And peace and plenty and content caress The spot a Deity had deigned to bless. ;j i THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. One day the sun, descending in the west, Far o'er the waters lit the frozen crest Of dim Sierra, towering on high, A mighty link between the earth and sky. Beyond the height his mellow splendor fell. And cheered the valley that he loved so well. The Sacred City with his luster glows. Where many an altar to his worship rose. Huayna Capac was the Inca then, And from the ocean to the mountain glen. In humble huts and palaces of stone, Throbbed every bosom for their king alone. They knew no duty but the Inca's sway. . His to command, theirs only to obey. What means the throng upon the mountain road On every side that to the city flowed ? And why has Cuzco thrown open wide • Her massive portals to the coming tide? THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. To-morrow's morning they would see begun The feast of Raymi to the summer sun. '. From distant borders of the mighty land, From where old ocean on a burning strand Dashes his billows, from the mountain side, From the rude cabin where the waters glide In beauty by upon a shining strand, The pebbly shingle and the golden sand, From north and south and from the west and east They meet to celebrate the summer feast. A motley throng upon the way appear The shepherd, peasant, and the mountaineer. The eager pilgrim from a distant shore Has passed the flood and toiled the valley o'er, Has crossed the chasm's deep and awful night Till brain grew dizzy with the giddy height, And scaled the crags of each opposing peak Until he faltered and his arm grew weak. 2 ■ mil wiim w Hig t ii p t dirfm- " ' -T -i " —"»-« >■*"■-" ■■■■■ 17 lit 18 THE CHILURKN OF THE SUN. At last he stands upon the mountain brow And Cuzco's valley is beneath him now. Footsore and weary, wan and travel-stained. The goal is won, Peruvian Mecca gained. And heaves his bosom as his glances trace The noble city in the vale's embrace. The granite walls encompassing about, The triple towers of the fortress stout, That ne'er discloses to the wily foe The subterranean galleries below. The low-ranged buildings radiantly bright. Like silvery lines of systematic light. With darker spaces of the streets between. And further on upon the heights are seen The Inca palaces, the wealth displayed- Their corner-stones in molten gold were laid. In some the bustling busy life appears ; Some, dumb and silent for a hundred years. TIIF. CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 19 Glitters without the customary show, Within, the dust of many years ago. Their mummied owners in the temple lay, And mothy tinsel moulders to decay. A narrow river through the city flowed. And far beyond, upon a shining road. Till onward, onward in the dim unknown The vast beyond appearing vaster grown, At last it mingles in the mighty tide, Earth's grandest river rolling deep and wide. The Hill of Joy beyond the river lies, Where bright succeeding terraces arise. The breath of blossoms many hued and fair Is floating ever from its broad parterre. To southward spreads the noble vale away With foliage bright and with its blossoms gay. Cordilleran masses in a mighty chain. As guardian barriers of the mountain plain » 20 ,1 i -rilK Cllll-UKKN OF THE SUN. Surrotmcling all. the borders of the Skies Like some vast amphitheater arise ; Whose deep arena lying low between Is softly carpeted in Natures green. For miles away the noble vale was sprent With myriad homes in plenty and content. The polished granite of their facades shone Reflecting back the splendor of the sun. And shining streamlets through the valley stray. Like silvery serpents winding on their way, Harmless in beauty by the homes of men, Their limpid waters irrigate the glen. Socleai he air above the valley lay The "Holy Height," a hundred miles away. Snow-capped and lofty as an outpost high Of mystic cloudland, towers to the sky In empyrean mrjesty and grace, As ruling spirit of an holy place. THE CIIHJ'MEN Oh TI(K SUN. Ami to the eastward spread a rugged tract, The rock, the grove, the rumbling cataract, In blended harmony they sweetly lie Beneath the azure of a tropic sky The gentle breezes through the valley bring The hum of bees and fountains' murmuring. The sun descending in his lustrous flight Had lit no grander, nor a prouder sight Than that rich valley beautiful and wide, That shining city on the mountain side. The darkling crags their rugged outline throw In protean shadows on the vale below. The beaming sun in majesty and state Now lit the gold upon the western gate. And kissed a farewell to the Inca bowers, But longer lit the Cyclopean towers, Paused for a moment on the mountain height. Then sunk away and left a tropic night. 21 U ]l If !i I il THE CHILDREN Ol- THE SUN. , •Tis morn, but ere the sacred orb of day Shines o'er the mountains in the far away. In Cuzco's plaza where he was adored A mingled throng of w(5rshipers had poured. The Indian courtiers in apparel rare. With costly ornaments and jeweled hair. Vied with each other in the quaint array, The pomp and pageant of the festal day. The rustic peasant and the shepherd dressed 1,1 coarser mantle, to the plaza pressed. Above the sedans of the rich and great By menials borne were canopies of state. And in the center of the square was seen The sacred Inca in his palanquin, Whose regal habiliment in every fold Blazed rich with jewel, emerald and gold. Peru had waited for the rising sun Since first gray streaking of the day begun, ^^L.. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. And watched in mute expectancy the throng The vermeil pathway he would pass along. But when he burst upon their eager sight, And bathed the turrets in his golden light, Pealed fro;n the throng in momentary glee One simultaneous shout of jubilee. A hundred thousand in the wild refrain Made the fair city tremble with the strain. The pipe, the timbrel, and the drum combined With strange inventions of the Indian mind, Swelled loud and louder the triumphal cry That made no pause for echo to reply. Their arms they lifted to the shining height As to embrace the clear and holy light, And kissed the ether limpid, pure, and free, As 'twere the raiment of a Deity. The Inca offered to the sun divine A golden vase of consecrated wine. 9$ It I THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. • The first observance of the day begun, He sought the street and Temple of the Sun. In rich profusion was the shining way With flowers strewn and with banners gay. And. followed closely by the mighty throng. Who now unsandaled march the street along. Majestic priests with solemn visage trod, And bore the offerings to the Inti-God. The opal, jasper, emerald, were there. Rubies and fruits and flowers bright and fair, Sweet scented spices, blossoms of agave, Shells brightly tinted from the ocean wave. But one alone of all the human tide Might pass the portals of the Temple wide. The Inca entered, o'er the pavement trod. And knelt before the image of his God. While weary centuries had come and gone In solemn stillness it had looked upon ^,^,*««rt«Ms*i*eff««« THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. The prostrate kings of generations past, But fate decreed this king would be the last. Art's finest touches had been summoned here To paint and gild, to sculpture and veneer. The sheen of sunlight through the ample door Flashed full across the tessellated floor, And gleamed with dazzling and holy light On his own image radiantly bright Emblazoned broad upon the western wall In massive gold. The cornices and all The fluted columns, crusted heavy o'er With virgin gold from summit to the floor, Reflected back the empyrean beams In floods of glory, radiating streams. Thick-sprinkled jewels flashed upon the eye, Like shining stars upon a golden sky. Surpassing lovely, dazzling to behold. The Coricancha is a mine of gold. 25 "ff 26 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. A few more Raymis on the mortal shore, A few more joys and passing sorrows o'er, The Indian monarch with his labor done Was called away to mansions of the sun. A wave of sorrow o'er the nation spread, Unnumbered mourners wept the noble dead. The Inca's son, his favorite and pride, The brave Atalpa, ever by his side, In war or peace, Tacomez or Yucay, Now ruled in Quito, to the north away. The elder, Husar. haughty, proud, and vain. Was left in old Peruvia to reign. In lovely peace a few brief summers close. Then anger, hatred, jealousy, arose, And blind ambition, scantily concealed. Impelled the brothers to the fatal field. Atalpa's sword in devastation fell THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. On fair Peru, his father ruled so well. • At Quipaypan the mighty armies met While dew was sparkling on the grasses yet. The fierce Peruvians on the Quitans bore, Like ocean billows on a rocky shore. Flecked was the valley with the purple gore. No petty province urged them to the fray, The mighty empire was at stake to-day ; And towering upward, lofty and serene, The mighty Andes looked upon the scene Of death and carnage raging at its base. And frowned with porphyry and granite face. Never before had banner of the Sun Been borne to battle but the day was won. Now spears and arrows like the-driving rain Were poured on Quito's battlements in vain. The Sun-God, sinking in the western sky, Saw Quito conquer, the Peruvians fly. 27 28 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. And gentle night her somber mantle spread Above the dying, and the silent dead. Atalpa lay at Caxamalca now, Glittering his eye and feverish his brow.; The gloomy hours of the fateful day Had rolled in dull uncertainty away ; Incessant glancing in the dim afar To catch the first fleet messenger of war, That should the tidings of the battle bring. His hopeless ruin, or proclaim him king. And such a brink did ever mortal know ? Bright heights above, a yawning gulf below ; Effulgent temples, palaces, and throne, A mighty empire would be his alone. Or no scant nook in all the land so fair To shield a ruined renegade's despair. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. And hope and fear alternately possessed A transient triumph in his troubled breast. The day was past, the draperies of night Girded the valley and the mountain height, But yet no tidings of the battle came To quench the tireless, consuming flame Of dull suspense that preyed upon his soul. The doubt and passion baffling control. Another day, another night appear, Each lagging hour was a gloomy year. And supplications for a victory won From pallid lips ascended to the sun. Another day had melted in the past,— What ! News of battle ! Has it come at last i A herald, bursting from the mountain height, Sped down the valley like a beam of light, Nor paused a moment for the mighty tide 39 J 30 THE CHILDKEN OF THE SUN. Of mountain torrent, fathomless and Wide. One mighty effort, as the supple deer He dashes onward in his fleet career, But pressing nearer to the city walls, He reels-he staggers-heavily he falls. And those who hastened eagerly to lave The reeking forehead from the crystal wave, Pitying, shuddered at the soulless eye That glanced them no intelligent reply. The mouth compressed that might forever seal The fated word none other could reveal, Uncertain pulses and the shallow breath. The visage ghastly with the hues of death. AH anxious lest the faintest whisper slip That truant sense might fashion on his lip. The first low murmur of the faltering tongue Was caught. It3 echo o'er the valley rung. And loud and wild, voluminous and free, Mt)MB«.«>C%(^-i'M' I" «>**-*• THE Cnil.nRF.N OF THE SUN. Arose the shout : "Atalpa's victory." His proudest dream was verified at last, The hazard over and the struggle past, The triumph perfect and for him alone The ancient empire and his father's throne. The low-fringed borla round his forehead drew, And Quito's prince was Inca of Peru. The curious working of the human breast Can well be felt but hardly be expressed. It labors long and earnestly to clasp A prize that withers in the eager grasp, Be it a kingdom or a simpler joy, 'Tis yet the same, a transitory toy. And with the longed for victory attained There's yet a something that is never gained. Some canker lurks in pleasure's soft caress, No heart can boast its unalloyed success. 3« __.._J 32 TME C.ULUREN OF THK SUN. The prize is won, but howsoever fair, Some hoped-for quality is wanting there. We seek in vain Pome fascinating hue Anticipation pictured to our view. Despite the scepter of a mighty land, Held now so firmly in Atalpas hand, A deep foreboding lingered in his breast, A nameless sadness, and a vague unrest. For which his diadem could ill repay, Or gay festivities dispel a^vay. The deep hosannas echoed wild and glad. The people shouted, he alone was sad. A storm was brooding o'er the gloomy waste Of Southern O^ean. and the billows chased Along in tireless and sullen flow UN. THE rHII.I>RKN OF TIIK SUN. 33 re. id, rcnst, irest, i glad, sad. rloomy waste Ns chased O'er coral caves and alg;c deep below. In those dark waters rolling wild and strong Labored a Spanish galleon along, Freighted with death and desolating woe For that fair land, that paradise below. The dark-eyed, sturdy soldiery of Spain liut little recked the heaving of the main. Life was to them the trifle of a day, Theirs to enjoy, and theirs to fling away. Wild for adventure, if it only lies In paths that savor of a golden prize. Anticipation imaged every day A siren halo round their stormy way ; And every night each ragamuffin there In realms of vision was a millionaire, And saw assured, beyond the Andes' chain, An El Dorado easy to attain, That led at last to devastation dire, Through seas of blood and desolating fire. 3 34 THF. CMILDRUN OF THE SUN. The little vessel on a shining Strand Grated her keel and poured her blighting band. licside the ocean, spreading far away. A narrow strip of emerald verdure lay. Abrupt beyond the cultivated plain Arose the towering CordUleran chain. The valley traversed to the r^ountain side, They crossed the chasm and the torrent's tide Plunged in the deep and ominous ravine, Where nature's wildest carnival is seen. Luxuriant grasses o'er the teeming ground. And rank, lush creepers radiate around. The gliding serpent was a tenant there, Rainbow-hued parrots glitter in the air. Thankful, at last the travelers emerged. And up the height their fiery spirits urged Their weary bodies; up the beetle-browed And rugged cliffthey clamber to the cloud.: THK (:IIILI>I I j j-M W Hil i K'^ ' fflW "1 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. The morning dawned, the monarch of the day Rolled o'er the valley in his shining way, Dispelling from its pinnarle on high, ; The last dull cloud that tarried in the sky. No lightc- bounds, hilarious with pride, The glad young bosom of the charming bride. Who hears the chiming of the marriage bell Proclaim her pleasure to the rural dell, Than Spanish bosom when the trumpet-screams Dispel the unreality of dreams, And call to arming in the city square, To wait the coming of the Inca there. Pizarro's plan of perfidy and crime. The foulest in the history of time. In vain they waited his approaching soon. And morning faded into afternoon. At last he came ; the retinue of state Was seen advancing in the city gate. 37 r Tf 38 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. With crest and banner waving in the breeze, With royal livery and panoplies, On through the streets the melody of song Rolled with the tide of gayety along. But when they crowded in the city square, The song of triumph died upon the air. The Inca seated on a throne of gold Looked round the plaza eager to behold The daring spirits of a foreign land. Spanish priest, advancing, took his stand Before the monarch, with the sacred Book, Beseeching that with favor he would look Upon his comrades and their faith beside. He told the story of the Crucified, And how his deputy, the Pope, to Spain Had given that American domain. Then paused the friar, and the monarch's eye Flashed scorn and fire as he made reply : ?,!i ! M>tt!AMIMWW»«a THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. " I will be no man's tributary slave In this free land my God and fathers gave. And no allegiance will I ever own To any being but my God alone. For even by the creatures that his hand Had formed and nourished in a favored land Your own Divinity, as you proclaim, Was put to death in infamy and shame. But mine,"— he pointed to the sun on high And flood of glory in the western sky,— " But mine, eternal as the heavens blue, Looks down upon his children of Peru." 39 And scarce Pizarro in impatience heard From his interpreter the closing word, A snowy banner from his bosom drew And waved the signal fatal to Peru. From every by-way, avenue, and hall 40 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. The Spanish masses hurried to the call. No pulse of pity in that hardy throng, The war-cry echoes universal, strong. With pike and musket and the flashing brand They fell upon the unofTending band. The stripling soldier and the veteran form Went down together in the whelming storm. Each fell destroyer with the cannon's breath Plowed ghastly lanes of havoc and of death. Its volleyed thunders, resonant and loud, Betray the vulture poised upon the cloud. Fill every corner of the valley wide, Defile and cavern of the mountain side, And start the vampire, ere the day has left, From his dark hiding in the rocky cleft. Resistless, helpless, with a stony gaze, Dumb with despair and stricken with amaze. And blinded, stifle*^, as the sulphurous smoke THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 41 In darksome volumes o'er the slaughter broke, The Indian throng, bewildered, gaze around, While lifeless bodies thud upon the ground. At last they struggle frantic with despair, But neither refuge nor escape was there, For every passage to the open plain Was choked with masses of the gory slain. By mighty pressure on the plaza wall Its stony masses totter, and they fall. The few survivors o'er the ruins leap. With desperation o'er the valley sweep. The war-horse followed o'er the fatal plain. His hoof was gory with the blood of slain. At every glitter of the saber's sway Another life was left to gush away ; It purpled flowers on the sloping hill, , And blushed the bosom of the laughing rill. 42 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. Meantime the nobles, in a loyal ring Around the sedan of the Indian king, Wild to protect their venerated lord. With naked bosoms intercept the sword. •Tis vain. The murderous and reeking hand Cut through the noble and devoted band ; Rude tore the Inca from his royal place, And dragged him o'er the ruins of his race. And at the clanging of his prison door He threw himself upon the stony floor, Deceived, betrayed, and solitary there, Wi'th keen remorse and passionate despair; Bewildered yet, but sensing to his cost The bitter fact that everything was lost. With gnashing teeth and quivering lip he .ay And smothered curse, he groaned the night away. The early morning paled away the starsj And golden sunlight through the prison bars UN. THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. 43 rd. ig hand ind ; ice, IS race. or or, •e, espair; 3St lOSt, i;»^ V»«» lav iij^ 4*w ••ijr le night away. Streamed on his agony and suffering. But brought no solace to the prisoned king. The same to him whichever held its sway, The gloom of night or glory of the day. At last, through clouds of desolation, shine The rays of hope, a light almost divine. Pizarro bargained for a mighty fee To draw the bolts and set the monarch free. And at the bidding of the captive king, The willing porters from the coffers bring The golden treasure, glittering and vast Accumulation of the toilsome past. Millions on millions of the shining hoard Into the Spanish treasury are poured ; The grandest ransom ever tortured forth From any prince or potentate on earth. e stars; •ison bars At last the golden penalty was paid, But still the time of freedom was delayed. 44 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. The weary days rolled melancholy o'er, Each day as barren as the day before, Till jealous doubt was brooding in the air, And doubt gave way to dolorous despair ; The morn of hope, erst beautiful and bright. Gloomed into evening, deepened into night. No greater height could misery attain, No lower depth could desperation gain. One day Atalpa on a divan cast Was thinking, dreaming of the joyous past, When hurried feet upon the pavement rung. The bolts were drawn, widely open flung His prison door. The cavalierros came To crown their course of infamy and shame. What desperadoes in his prison rolled, Thirsty for blood ipd passionate for gold I • Eyes that were blind to sorrow or distress, UN. air, lir; bright, night. s past, it rung, lung me 1 shame. d, gold ! [stress, THE CHILDREN Or THE SUN. 45 Rough-dealing hands that knew no tenderness. A single glance upon the traitors cast, Atalpa knew his destiny at last; At eve, the night bird crooned her plaintive strain O'er a lone grave in Cassamarca's plain. Only a shallow, rudely-fashioned grave ; Around, the daisies and the grasses wave, But hope, ambition, love and hate, despair, Heart-sickening anguish, all are buried there. O'er fair Peru has brooded dearth and gloom Since her last monarch withered in the tomb. The gentle scepter from the Inca hand Has passed away forever from the land. And in her temples, plundered and defiled. No longer worships the Peruvian child ; For stranger feet are traversing the floors. Mi l iii i m ill w i ' "w n 46 THE CHILDREN OF THE SUN. And Stranger voices echo at the doors, And where the image of the Sun-God smiled Now stands the marble Virgin and the Child. The sun, as ever, in his shining way Awakes the morn and closes up the day. Hut now, un worshiped by the simple throng, Ungreeted by the melody of song. VERY LONG. ^H-^^-^ very long," said the little boy, ' To sit in the school-house old and gray, When I like so much to be at play ; It's oh so hard ! " said the little boy. But he turned his eyes to the dogeared book. Forgot his master, stern and cold, Unconscious how the moments rolled. He finished the task he undertook, And when 'twas over his merry song Declared it wasn't so very long. So very long," he said one day. To wait till I become a man." But he scarcely saw how the moments ran ■J BWllW llt HI.II«H llli »»*l .'< r •imi^ 48 VKKY I.ONO. Till he found him far on manhood's way ; And there came a time when his eyes grew dim. The waverinK pulse and failing breath Threatening dull decay and death, Life's joys and sorrows were naught to him. And the faltering voice that erst was strong Said, " Life itself is not very long." Beyond a river that darksome rolled. In a land where shining fountains play, A soul was welcomed home one day By angels touching their harps of gold. In the presence of Him who died to save, Earth's tears and struggles are no more To him who walks the blessed shore, By the river of life with crystal wave. For it matters not to the ransomed throng Whether Life's day be short or long. s way ; yes grew dim, g breath eath, ;ht to him. :rst was strong Iit ong. led, itains play, one day f gold. 1 to save, ire no more ed shore, wave. nsomed throng t or long. MODERN FIDELITY. nn^ROM the rtcrmy coast of her native land She gazed far o'er the blue, Where the waves dashed up in splendor grand. Her garments, on the cold sea sand. Were damped with ocean's dew. She loved to come at the close of day, And hear the billows roar, And watch the foaming, seething spray. Where her sailor lover had sailed away To India's distant shore. 4 I t .i- i f i -JJ ! U " " i - ,1' ' SO MODERN FIDELITY. And now a memory surged her mind ; One standing fair and tall Where erst the flowery jessamine Had draped in happy days lang syne A cottage garden wall. They stood when day was but begun, Beside the wall of stone ; But when the west— the dipping sun- Betokened that the day was done She rested there alone. She wondered if he thought, to-night, Of loving friends at home ; Did he keep the curl so brown and bright That he severed from its mates the night He left that cottage home ? Tho' chill winds swept the rocky heigbt, She lingered by the sea, ifffVjytT '"" • " • mind ; le syne )egun, g sun — ne MODKRN FIDELITV. And watched till the somber wings of night Had borne away the fading light In the waves of eternity. On India's distant shore was he, Not fondling her auburn curl, Not thinking of loved ones o'er the sea, But kissing, beneath a banyan tree, A cross-eyed Hindoo girl. 5' 3-night, 1 and bright IS the night She wearily waited and sadly prayed For a glimpse of his azure blouse, Till she heard, and rather than be a maid, She married a peddler of decent grade, And went to keeping house. :ky heiglit, 'Twas a little cottage she had to keep ; It stood beside the main ; 52 MODERN FlDELirV. And oft she watched the troubled deep, When night-winds cradled the waves asleep. And thought of her love again. .' It might have been," she murmured low, Te&r mists her blue eyes dim ; And the sea birds sweeping to and fro, The fitful shadows that come and go. Too oft remind of him. •Tis ever thus. Friends change, apart ; Stern absence gives a weary pain, And gossip wings the fatal dart To rend the sinking, hopeless heart Of one who waits in vain. And love's a sacred thing that few. Ah, very few may share ; And lovers to-day are not half so true As romance pictures them out to you, O maiden with golden hair. «1! deep, 'es asleep, n. ed low, MODERN FIDELITY. And your Jimmy or Sammy, John or Carl, So noble, kind, and true, Keeps a wistful eye upon the girl With golden papa or brighter curl The while they cherish you. 53 d fro, go, apart ; ' pain, But let not this dishearten you ; Accept the trust that's given ; For love that's truly pure and true Can never, never be for you This side the ports of Heaven. ;art ew, so true to you, r. MACDONALD'S LAMENT.* ^^- r\ GLAD was the day when in childhood I wandered O'er Scotland's loved healher, so joyous and free, And followed the way of the brook that meandered, To list to its song as it flow'd to the sea. happy the days that so fleetly pass'd o'er me, I mourn for the moments that now are no more ; 1 mourn for the friends who have pass'd on before me. Whose voices on earth I shall hear nevermore. Those angelic parents whose memory I've cherished For wisdom and virtue crown'd each honest brow. With them all ambitious desires have perished — Earth holds nothing more that is dear to me now. • At the massacre of Glencoe, Scotland, in 1692, Macdonald escaped while his parents and many of his friends perished. macdonald's lament. 55 £NT.* hood I wandered 10 joyous and free, it meandered, sea. [ o'er me, ire no more ; d on before me, levermore. I've cherished I honest brow, perished — ar to me now. 1692, Macdonald escaped d. The hopes that I held while in Life's merry morning Have faded away like the bow in the sky ; The hope that is left me is bright and adorning Of meeting my parents immortal on high. I fear not the touch of death's terrible finger, Nor fear I the surge of the dark river's tide ; When by the loved grave of my sire I linger, I long for the time when I'll lie by his side. And for my loved mother to-day I am yearning, E'en now I remember instruction she gave ; But now that loved form back to dust is returning. And heather grows over her long-silent grave. Old Scotland's fine scenery of valleys and mountains, Its flowerets so gay with delicious perfume ; Loch Katrine's calm breast and the rills and the fountains Receive not my heed like my parents' cold tomb. :il h ii 56 macdonald's lament. The whistling winds thro' the wild rocks resounding, The waves that are lashing my loved native shore, Seem to chant a sad dirge for my heart as they're bounding, For sorrow shall reign in this heart evermore. ■ i » ii r nntiii. w i i ii ii^ ^-4I^<^*' FEE EYKS ADDRESS TO HIS SISTER. n worlds eyond, g train, ;lides :tering gems space V worlds sweep, but drops path , to earth, i pride ler on. ^^•^^•^ y DREAMED of hume, iny sister, When evening shadows fall, Where the peaceful time of summer Throws its mantle over all. I dreamed of home just as it was Ere I had thought to go And leave the scenes we cherished In the days of long ago. I often hear the birdies That sing amid the grove ; They remind me of the birdies In the trees we used to love ; Tho' sweet they sing the old-time song. And flutter to and fro, 'liil li:t Hii III um i im M v' arfTnr'eWi! >■ 52 BEE eye's ADUKESS TO HIS SISTEK. No birdies swing as sweetly As the birds of long ago, As oft I sit and ponder None sees but One above, And I yearn again to wander 'Mid the scenes we used to love, To lay Lite's duties all aside And for a moment know The pure and hallowed pleasure That was ours long ago. With bright associations Far from our early home In the wide, wide world there's pleasure Wheresoever I may roam, But brighter, dearer, happier The joys we used to know, O bonnie Annie Laurie, In the home of long ago. S SISTKK. r 1 to love, V nire le re's pleasure im, :r now, go. |S|i%^!^.,4i^., fSf ir; :;^^V% ■ t> — < «^>-^^ PEDAC.OGICAL COGITATIONS. f*. r\ BIRCHEN tickler from the forwSt shrdc, I sing thy praises ever fresh and rev,, A trusty helper in my school you've xuuh, And great the credit I ascribo to you. f And thou art no respecter, in thy way, Of persons. On the taper, lily hand Of the fair maiden, I have seen thee pla> , And do thy work impressively and grcrnJ, As well as on the rough and horny palm Of some young Neptune from the r/avc's carets, Who came and vintered in his native clime To impress the people wi h hii vorthlesancss. .lil '^t ■^1'- iH I f" .1 II ii , i-|ii. i iiiiii8iiri " iii . > rf'rt-".f'"''' ■•"""""' ""' "''*"' 64 PEDAGOGICAL COGITATIONS. And thou hast labored on the urchin fist, Adorned with warts, and nails in mourning all. And grimy dirt that soap and water missed, When closed the sardine factory in the fall. ■ * Let others talk of ways and methods new To still the yaggcr in the school or church, But no persuader can compare with you. Time-honored, pacifying forest birch. Ah ! little scholar, you may never know How very sorry teacher is to see Your freckled face with bitter tears aflow, And stay the current f your childish glee. And though, to-day, you cannot understand, Though inconsistent, it is surely true, The marks upon the dirty little hand Will be a blessing in the end to you. ■i hm»mt w I i p i I in W wmuJiWiw^ ONS. 1 fist, mourning all, missed, n the fall. Is new or church, I you, irch. know s aflow, lildish glee. nderstand, y true, p ind I you. ^M^ FAREWELL. T" BID my native land farewell With deep regret and saddened heart, I feel a gloom I cannot tell To know that we are soon to part. Indifferent may the s'.ranger's eye On those familii r sights be cast, That would in me awake a sigh And stir the memory of the past. I leave those cherished scenes to-day, For hope resplendent gleams before. Changes I know will have their sway Ere I return to go no more. * Perchance when aged, wan, and worn. And Time's deep furrows mark my brow, 5 66 FAREWELL. I'll seek the land where I was born, And view the scenes I cherish now. And leaning on a staff I'll tread With faltering step and heaving chest The paths my bounding feet have sped, When early fire burned in my breast. Perchance beneath a coffin lid Life's battles over— who can tell ?— This worn-out body shall be hid Beneath the sod I loved so well. I may see many a blooming shore And flowing river broad and grand, Thy memory yet shall cheer me more. My loved, my cherished native land. Changes may mark a future day. The ocean may between us roll. But time can never wear away The early memories of the soul. wimmm -r-.iiTrr;*ri'''ir'-iM"""^"**'^- rn, sh now. zing chest e sped, • ny breast. n tell ?— well. »re id grand, z more, itive land. y. s roll, e soul. LAMENT FOR DAVY. -^^^^^ T'M standing by the garden gate, I'm waiting for some cake, I've fasted every day, Davy, since you made your fare- well bake. I've seen your old white nag, Davy, go up and down the street, I've heard the tinkling of the bells and clatter of his feet. He scarcely looks so happy as he did in days of yore, There's a sad expression in his eye I never saw before ; His nose hangs very low. Davy, and his white sides often shake With a big internal sigh, Davy, as he brings the pies and cake. yjM I t . »i»«»3»»e*!f-'- i^S)*" i'^ -», -rse- COLIIV UNIVKKSITV. r^ , . , ,. ,- J. . ii| ^j.,--.^ ' HJ H" '"' ?#>ll^y5 THAT PIA^^V. MUSIC hath charms, I will admit, When circumstances favor it. To pass the merry hours along I love the sportive college song, The locust on the railroad tie, Or "U-pi-dee" or old " Phi Chi," And with my spirits blithe and gay; I love the festive pianay. ***** At thirty minutes after ten We tumble into bed, and then Just as we glide in sleep elysian, The 'habitants of South Division, ■ j - i f . i fSi "■ " ;'t^«-.-''-»."*iiii itfl ii t I ' Hi" (lUi 76 THAT PIANAY. We rouse, an audience to be To strains of midnight melody. Great Zeus ! I think the devil must play That number 'leven pianay. ! give the Thomas cat instead, That used to warble on the shed And try with su^er-feline power To render terrible the hour. He howled so loud in midnight calm, 1 thought he'd bust his diaphragm. Yet give him back but take away That sleep-distracting pianay. Or give the hurdy-gurdy man. Surrounded by the yagger clan, For he comes only in the day, Yea, give a cent and let him play ^ l> WM..i. ' . .11 .' .u;„Mi-.un. i ' 11^ ' * ' J .. :. ' C? T™g'gg.'*°' ay.;,l'riiL(T«iHi-iili'ii«ii!''"i''* 3y. il must play tead, shed iwer ght calm, hragm. away THAT PIANAY. And let him turn with all his might. But in the stilly hours of night Don't craze my sleep, Orpheus, I pray, With that confounded pianay. It isn't that I mind the song, Which may flow merrily along. In fact it may be most divme, With " Bingo Farm " or " Baby Mine,' Or "Bonnie on the Sea" so grand, And rendered by a Dexterous hand, Yet agony no tongue can say Lurks in that hideous pianay. n m, :lan, ay» n play ^ -^^^i .■♦•£ l »i;!U.l.H '! ;jJ-.U>J."IMA ' .'J.'g .?^'*»M"''' ^j./^. ' .M I WvH^^VV.l.lvi ' rVai .Tg SAM AND THE ORGAN-GRINDER. /^NE pleasant day in early May, A grinder came along the way To play his little song, The eager heads were popping out. North College trembled with the shout, " Come, grinder, come along." Sam heard the racket in his den And started for the door, and then, " Hi dar, you, get away." " Come on, come on," the echoing cheer Sam heard, and got right on his ear, As slangy people say. SAM AND THE ORGAN-GRINDEU. 79 -GRINDER. iy May, J the way ing out, h the shout, along." He met the grinder on the walk And had a somewhat violent talk Around the music box, But who on earth would e'er suppose That Sam would smite him on the nose, Or pluck his raven locks! • Great Zeus ! it was a fearful fray And wild the battle shout, when they Begin to scratch and pull, For quite a radius round, the air Was black with snarls, of flying hair And Ethiopian wool. 3 den nd then, ;hoing cheer in his ear, The grinder's organ looked as tho' A cyclone, mule, or tornado Had dashed it on the loam ; He shouldered it at last when beat, Then hobbled feebly down the street, And Sam went limping home. •*->^^(l(^«-* THE FRESHMAN'S MONODY. TIRED Freshman, thin and weak, I sit and plug away at Greek. My student lamp is burning low As the weary hours come and go ; An atmosphere of chill and gloom Pervades this boxed-up body room And makes it seem a living tomb. Or that the " Prisoners of Chillon " In some past age had come and gone And left their impress on this floor, Those gloomy walls, and shaky door, Which for to vent.iate, no doubt, . Some Soph has kicked the panel out, THE freshman's MONODV. 8i [ONODY. lin and weak, at Greek. r low nd go ; gloom / room tomb, Chillon " and gone his floor, laky door, loubt, panel out, Or it may be 'twas only done To give the Soph a little fun In plying his hydraulic gun. For very often when at work I start up sudden with a jerk, And lo ! I'm in a watery realm, It patters on my cerebellum And then, so chilling, so malign, Meanders calmly down my spine. The Seniors, dignified and grave, Mfjestically stalk the pave. The Juniors sweep along the way Almost as.dignified as they, The Sophomore jolly, light, and gay, Treads with a ditty in his throat, A squirt gun hidden 'neath his coat i And yaggers unmolested go 6 82 li ' THE freshman's MONODY. About the campus to and fro. But, ah! whene'er I. pass along A Fresh, a Freshy, is the song And from each window light and free The plashing torrents pour on me. And Sam will grumble day by day Because I wear the grass away In walking distant from the halls Where showering, limpid water falls. O, if that janitor but knew What 'tis to feel the sprinkling dew, To jump whene'er he leaves a door, He wouldn't gr-'mble any more. I laid some apples by one day To cheer me as I toiled away, But Sophomore robbers found rhy store, I never saw those apples mo-^e. TIIK freshman's monody. And if, to cure the stomach ache, I get me something good to talie, As Paul says, " for the stomach's sake," And lay it by with greatest care, When next I look it isn't there. Thus every pleasure, every joy Is taken from the Freshman boy. O hasten on, ye happy day, When Freshman terrors pass away And with the envied exit o'er, A wild and dashing Sophomore. I'll wake the echoes of the plain And be a somebody again. 83 r THE FRESHMAN'S STORY. WHEN first I came to Colby And the shady campus struck, Though I had some discouragements I felt myself in luck, For students came from every class And shook me by the hand, And tried to make me feel at home, I tell you, it was grand. And as the days went b ', they tried To show me their regard. They hoped I had an easy time ' And didn't study hard. 'k^. THE freshman's STORY. 85 JTORY. » Colby Tipus struck, agements jry class hand, at home, I they tried ard, time i. They treated me to pea-nuts And to candy every day, And when I called to see them They wanted me to stay. They liked whatever suited me, And why, I couldn't tell ; I never saw a lot of chaps That liked me half so well. They didn't keep me in suspens,,*, But soon revealed the cause ; They wanted me to join a— well, . I don't know what it was. A Senior took me by the arm And led me to his room, He smiled on me a happy smile, Was glad that I had come ; 86 THE 1-reshman's story. His friends admired me, he said, For common sense and piety, And I was honored with a bid To join a Greek society. Then in a speech two hours long He told me of its worth ; The biggest, grandest Grecian light That shines upon the earth. And with this mystic brotherhood United I might be. He said that I would honor them And they would honor me. Then other students came along And talked for other cliques, And some were men of 'eighty-seven And some of 'eighty-six. KY. aid, liety, d THE freshman's STOKY. Now each of these societies Was mighty, East and West, And I was quite surprised to find Each one to be " the best." 87 long > an light arth. ;rhood them me. along ;liques, ghty-seven ;ix. Now I had read in early life The stories Morgan wrote. And very naturally indeed I feared a William goat ; Besides, I must confess, the thought Produced a little fright, That I should climb a greasy pole To reach a Grecian light. But as I felt their fellowship Unsuited to my mind, When urged upon to join the Greeks I finally declined. There are no pea-nuts now for me, No candy every day, gg THE FRESHMAN S STORY. And when I rail upon the boys They wi^h I'd go away. Now when my Livy flunk is made In melancholy gloom, m And when I've hunted up my hat In the Foardman Mission room, And when i\e dodged the element South College rains so free, I trudge me sadly down the street. For no one speaks to me. Why do those fellows act so queer And take a distant tone ? I need their friendship even more Because I am alone. Ah, me ! this is a funny world, • For me no joy awaits, Tis rather late to join them now, I think I'll go to Bates. TORY. boys is made m my hat sion room, ; element o free, le street, me. so queer )ne? ren more ivorld, s, lem now, tes. ^iWWl''JWjRW4iilIl!*!li-'S!§SIB)fflB " "1 j,»»**!'^ '>. // . the headaches, and the sadness. Aye, and the heartaches, too, that thou Wouldst bring me in the measured flow Of five long tiresome and weary years. For all thy movables and diastole Augment enclitic paradigm and all Hiatus crasis and elision, now I don't care a digamma. 94 T"K junior's farewell to GREEK. For should I live so long until My head be hoary with the weight of years, Or shining with a scarcity of hair Like some professor of thy literature Honored and venerable, And ever through this multitude of years Be learning Greek, and fling away my life In thy weird depths inscrutable eternity, Then sad equivalent for such a price Would I know something, and be able then To comprehend and point the places out Wherein the ancient authors were obscure, And with sublimely idiotic look Repeat the parrot cry, " how bea- i fil ! " And thy appendages of heathen myths And deities and legends fabulous Can but remind us of the wondrous tales :ek. THE junior's KARRWF.I.L TO GREEK. 95 years, years y life lity, le then ; out Dscure, fil ! •• ths I tales (That stirred in their imagination wild Our youthful blood) told by the pen Of great Munchausen. If author of the present day should write Achievements so absurd and tales outlandish, To-day's great classicist would frown on him, Then to his musty ancient hobby turn And say : '* How elegant, how beautiful, How entertaining. Grecian literature." The world improves as cycles roll away And much that is of vantage is retained. The truly valu'ble is seldom lost. And, craving pardon, Greek, if thou hadst been The vehicle most suited to convey The human sentiment from soul to soul Thou wouldst not be so practically dead, Nor when a score of centuries have fled 96 THE junior's farewell TO GREEK. Send back thy ghost unsavory to haunt The pallid student of a brighter day. I praise the steed That bore me o'er the roughness of the way, And with his mystic wings across The yawning chasm where no bridge Spanned the dark gulf, and through The gorges intricate and riddlesome Resounding with the groaning and despair Of those who, honester than I, Had struggled hither with a brave intent As footmen do, and now had paused With bruised and bleeding feet beside Some darksome torrent they could never pass. Others by reason of the length Of each day's journey hesitated — stopped. So one by one from out our rugged path IK. It he way, espatr itent le ever pass. ;opped. path THE junior's farewell TO GREEK. As went the days we missed them, And then with sadly given parting word Pressed on our weary way, Knowing, alas ! too well, in all the course We ne'er would see such welcome face again. Nor feel their fellow sympathy and cheer Companions of our sorrow and our joy. Now, Greek, farewell. At last I close Thy thumbed and grimy pages with a sigh, But not like Byron's prisoner, who made Friends of his fetters. Not a happy spot, No bright oasis in the desert drear In all my reminiscences of Greek Will turn my truant memory back to thee. 7 97 I r '^<\?mj Jl^fe'i/9 SANDY'S LIN DON. |T Colby when the sun was low, A falling sounded, blow on blow, In old South College, where they go To cut up all their deviltry. And Sandy saw a wondrous sight, When he got up and lit the light,— A liberal bin of anthracite Lay by his door invitingly. •\\- Now Sandy was a frugal lad, And great economy he had. So when he saw the coal—" Bedad, Said he, "they treat me lib' rally." •.s blow, And Sandy had a great nightmare, And dreamed they fired down the stair All things that happened to be there, IJoth portable and handy ; Of hods and base-ball shoes a score. A dog and the cat of '84, That fought and scratched and bit and tore, And made it hot for Sandy. I SANIjyS l.INDON. So with his coal-hod fast arrayed, He fell upon the bait they laid, Hut something down his spine that played Cut short our hero's revelry. 99 .&^®/- HOULTON ACADEMY PALLID Luna, through the rifting, Glances down from cloudy seas On the ti-ne-worn walls, uplifting Far above surrounding trees ; Pointing up with thousand fingers To the heaven that's bending o'er, "While the student fondly lingers Near the old familiar door. And, beside the well-worn traces Of the facade, come in view Shadowy, misty old-time faces, Shadowy forms that once he knew ; And a pleasant sadness, stealing O'er the spirit most divine, 1 — ^.1 ttng, seas o'er, knew; HOULTON ACADEMY. Bears him back, in thought and feeling, To the days of old lang syne. Lo ! a student toiling dreary Through the years as on they roll. Oft discouraged, sad, and weary, Presses onward to the goal-; Toiling thro' with ancient nations, Caesar's vivid Gallic wars. Struggling with the dull orations To the Roman senators. Where the broad Euphrates flows, and Where the winding Tigris lay, With the ancient Greek ten thousand Wandering he lost his way ; And he follows eager ever, By the low descending sun, By the Babylonian river, And the Persian battle done. lOI I02 i i HOULTON ACADEMY. And Cunaxa's hillocks gory With the blood of thousands flow In the old Athenian's story Of the struggle long ago, And the lips that in the morning Cheering from the phalanx rolled, Lay with evening dew adorning In the moonlight pale and cold. In a land of Persian strangers Weary Grecians rest the head Worn.with toil and battle dangers. Cyrus numbered with the dead. Still in fancy Isle Euboea Rises to their eager eyes, And with vine-clad hills Morea Nestling under sunny skies. Still there's joy for labor's wages, And the student loves to dwell nOULTON ACADEMY. ip3 On the old ^neid pages Gifted Virgil wrote so well ; Lo ! the Grecian armor gleaming From the Epeon decoy, And the fiery banners streaming O'er the homes of ruined Troy. ^ell And the hope that erst was given Ilian Hector could not save, And the Trojans forth are driven Over every ocean wave, Where the foamy surges tremble From the hollow ocean roar, Wrecked and weary they assemble On the Carthaginian shore. And the student still is bending O'er the gems of ancient lore, While the evening shades descending Weirdly glide upon the floor ii i! I 104 HOULTON ACADEMY. With their phantoms chill and dreary, While the hours come and go Till the aching brow is weary, Till the vigil lamp is low. Now 'tis over ; and he lingers Near his alma mater's door, And above the elmen fingers Sway as in the days of yore, But the towering walls before him Shall no more their story tell, . For the breezes wafting o'er him Mingle with his last farewell. . — « ■ I J iw inji i j twaiiwwiwrt iju, .. n- i j.. i 4tf"ny»gJ3 ! Jij !' !^-i^^l ' - !' "' '' ry. .^' ■—-^mmaummm"