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Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too lerge to be entirely included in one expoeure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand comer, left to right end top to bottom, aa many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre flimte A dee taux da reduction diff Arants. Lorsque Ie document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, 11 est fiimA A partir d«i i'angle supArieur gauche, de gauctie A droite. et de haut en Ims. en prenant ie nombre d'images nAcessaire. Lea diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^, _ i THE HOLLY BRANCH. BY HAKKIETT ANNIE. HAMILTON, C. W. PRINTED AT THE SPECTATOR OFFICE, JAMES STREET. 1851. _ I 72596 A EPISTLE DEDICATORY. I To SIR ALLAN NAPIER MACNAB, Knioht, M.P.P., AND THE FRATERNITY OP FREEMASONS. « I have written onto yon, Brethren, because ye have known that which was from the begging.** BrbtrrknI — Aooept our fhanks for the permission so courteously granted, to lay at your feet the little volume containing our feeble efforts of composition, and to request for the tender " Holly Branch" your favorable regard and patronage. And allow us at the same mo- ment to assign some reasons why we have consigned our Offering to the altar of Unity and Love. The world wonders, Brethren, why we have chosen for our protec- tion a Society whose science is as deep and mysterious as it is ancient and glorious. This same world has of old stood by, not only idle spectators but, in many instances, loud revilers, of your institutes and ceremonies. But these have yet to learn how " the stone which the builders rejected" is becoming, even in our day, "the head stone of the comer." From childhood, we have entertained ferlings of interest for your Order; and as years have increased, ov.r sympathies have deepened toward your Society ; for the presence of your brethren in various lands and climes has ever " been as the shade of a rock in a weary land." Yes ; be it on the wide ocean — ^in the stately mansi(>n — in the crowded city— or 'neath the cloud-covered tents of the wilderness — one band ye are, and one influence, even of that " charily which faileth not, do you diffuse on those whom ye love." IV. EFISTLB DEDICATORY. The reasons why 'we have been called to share the expressions of fraternal feelings from your mystic Association are veiled in a secrecy which the throngers of the outer courts may not penetrate. It may be because, that in years past, high and honorable men of our kindred have proved themselves temple worshippers. It may be, — but why (should we enumerate conjectures, when we recollect that the magical zone of Free Masonry binds the earth from sea to sea, and from shore to shore. Freemasons ! It is not the splendour of your Lodge-rooms, it is not ^he honors of your institution ; it is not the thrilling sounds of your beautiful music, nor the sight of your gathering numbers when ye are " with one accord in one place ;" it is none of these which have dazzled our vision on your behalf ; for is it not now, as in the days of old, " while the house is in building, there is no sound of axe or hammer hoard in the temple ?" No ; ours ra the simple offering of a heart that has often turned away stricken with the cold glance of an unfeeling world, and lacerated by those who should have been firm and aflfectionate friends ; thus stricken, it has turned with joy and rejoicing, to the kind voices and generous hearts of the " friends who love at all times the brothers born for adversity." The " Holly Branch " is in itself a type of your Institution. How often, amid the delicate flowers of Spring, the glorious rose of Summer, or the dazzling splendour of Autumnal beauty, is the Holly — the evergreen Holly — forgotten. But when the Winter storms gather around, then are its crimson berries and verdant leaves cherished ; and in our native land, from the poorest peasant on England's soil, to the royal chambers of England's Queen, the Holly Branch droops its fadeless clusters. Forgive us, then, if we have desecrated a type of Masonry by linking it with o\ir feeble efforts. Forgive — ^for we ask that those who build with King Solomon, and with him speak of all the trees, from the Cedar of Lebanon to the bitter Hyssop — we ask if these Avill remembei' the "Holly Branch." We have no band to come forward, (as had the Centurion of old) and say that " they are worthy for whom ye should do this ;" for we have built you no synagogae ; ,H neith with with yet,w Frc true L one an we sec that Ci gates ti by the love of eternal \ neither can we approach yon as did the Queen of the South to Solomon, with precicni jewels and royal gifts ; for although we can truly say with the anoient poet — " We can number it in yean, *' Since our grandsire waa a King ;" yet, we can also add tho remainder of the stanza : *< But no crown ia on our head, " No minstrels to us sing ; " For the exiled and the sorrowing, "No sceptre do they bring." Freemasons ! May Jehovah, the only and acknowledged head of true Love— the centre of all Unity— guide you, bless you, defend you, one and all, till at length not only in the mountain of this world shall we see the stones made ready for the Upper Temple, but ascend to that City, " whose walls are all manner of precious stones ;" whose gates transcend the gold of Solomon's glorious edifice ; where, blessed by the voice of your heavenly Grand Master, and welcomed by the love of your Elder Brother, you shall pass unnumbered ages in the eternal Lodges of Heaven, and meet there — HARRIETT ANNIE. Hamilton, 1851. I THE HOLLY BRANCH. DEDICATION POEM. / »* " And all ye are Brethren.'* . . . j . Brethukn around Love's altar stood, All ono in heart and hand, Before tho Architect of Heaven, Sworn one unsevered band : A vow lies heavy on ye all — A solemn, mystic, tie — A three-fold cord is round each heart- Might, Mercy, Mystery 1 Might ! for the earth hath onward rolled, ^ . And ever borne with pride The builders, as she bears them now, A throng on Time's rough tide. The foe hath mocked, harsh words have been Told of the structure fair: Build on, the walls abide in Strength, • . / Wisdom, and Beauty rare. ♦ Ask for Palmyra, Babylon, ' < And for the walls of Tyre— Tlie altars of Jerusalem- Behold the thorn, the brier! Ask for the ancient lands of old, ' Their throngers, where are they? And winds that wander through the sky Will answer — far away! "u 8 Till HOLLY BRANCH. But tinoe ihia union wm the iame, Fiv« thousand yean have notched Thoir scores in the archives of Time. This by Heaven's Guardian watched, Hath flourished on undoudedly, A bark upon the sea, That stili her unmarlted path shall trace Five thousand years to be. Who build to Merey? Far off woods Have echoed to the call ; Responsive echoes answer back From n^ony a stately hall — The captive from his chain is free, Loosed by a brother's hand; The far off wanderer of the sea Welcomes a kindred band. By warm and ardent sympathy, By the sweet word, For^ve; By holy love and holy deeds . ^ Is it by these ye live. Changed is the orphan's mournful cry. In weary loneliness; A host of blessings on ye rise From these, the fiitherless. To rule each action by the square, 'Neath the All-Seeing eye; To walk throughout life's chequered path. In Faith, Hope, Charity; To soothe the mourner, grief to quell, Brotherly love to spread : These are your emblems, these your vows. Onward and upward led. y THE HOLLY BRANCH. Bohold the Hour-glass and the Scythe, Time ever flitting fust; Bobuld the Anchor and tI«o Ark, Your guides through dungcr^s bloat } Of Innocence and Purity, Doth that white Lambskin tell; Reminding you that near God's throne The pure n heart shall dwell. May joy and peace bless they who dwell In lasting unity ; Boundless success each effort orown, Of sweetest amity 5 — And Heaven's best blessing rest on those Who rear their column high To God, and to beloved Saint John, And ancient Masonry ! These teach you ever to prepare, And wait a solemn scene. Till o'er each brother's bier be thrown The fadeless evergreen. Death claims you, and the dark foe calls, Behold the strong arms fail : Build on ; the Lion of the Tribe Of Judah shall prevail. And ye who'by the lamp of Truth, Through life's dark vale have trod. Shall gain bright temples in the heaven. Pure with the light of God ; Where the Grand Architect shall give To each calm peace and rest ; Here, spiritually built in Him,. There, with him ever blest. * V 10 TUB HOLLY BRANCH. Tip: VOICE OF THE SUN. The orient skies with my beams are red, As morning peeps out when night is fled ; . And the Western hills are lit by me, The dew-hung rose and the stately tree ; Ye may track my beam in the forest bower, My silvery ray in the chesnut flower, By the bud when in Spring my rays are borne, In Autumn, when waveth the burnished corn. I am in the climes of the frozen North, Where icebergs from the shore sail forth; As their anchor is weighed by my solar gleams. And they hasten down to the ocean streams; The Russian assailed by the king of frost— The Grecniander benumbed when his path he orossed- The Laplander bound by his icy sigh — Breathe life in the light of my summer eye. In the Southern tracks is seen my glow. Where citrons bloom and the olives blow ; , : While the breath of the myrtle floats sadly fair. With the shout of idolatrous worship there ;— Where the cocoa branches wave high and tall. And its clustering leaves are its capitol. And the ariel fig waves its hidden stem. And streams purl soft o'er the diadem. Where the Northern foreigner starts to behold. The purple vine bound with my ray of gold ; While, the fly-birds wing as the rainbow's bloom. Waves in the light of my burning plume ; The larch rejoices in my bright form. With cedar groves and my rays are warm, From the mullet's fin, 'neath the Southern breeze. To the hacc'moreir of Norwegian seas. ssed — seze THE HOLLY BRANCH. 11 On the tempest-torn and writhing wave, Where, 'mid cloistered caverns the mermaids lave, My light o'er the sleeping billow is spread, Or when ocean's pedestal heaves its head ; And my bright glance on the azure tide, Playfully romps where the mariners glide; While on the unshaded and heaving sea, I ride over the billow, so bold, so free. I give to the woods and rocks a beam, And the warblers awake from their drowsy dream. Then at the touch of my silvery ray, Me^'^y pours from each blossomed spray ; From the jewel-lit isles of the Southern main. Where tropical birds in their glory reign ; : ^ TheE>e rise to me mingling sweetly wild, With the note of the aulk to the North exiled. I am in the kraal of the Hottentot, The Indian wigwam and Hindoo cot ; In the Sultan's pavillion, my ray doth dance , And the monarch's robe is gilt with my glacne; My beams are spread o'er the rolling world. As showers of spar from volcanoes Iiurl'd, As bright falling leaves 'neath autunmal rain, As drops of dew from a lion's mane. I trayerse the shore and I sail o'er the deep. For ages I've shone nor seek I for sleep, — If you love my light as I softly beam. From the valleys fresh to the mountain stream : O ! then strike the lyre to my Maker's praise, Who giveth me glory, splendour, and rays — Ever think of me as a sacred sign. Of him who bids me unwearied shine. . 12 THE HOLLY BRANCH. I!' «7 THE BOW IN THE CLOUD. The rising waters drenched the earth, Green trees were bending low, And lovely flowers of Eastern birth, ' Died at the wave's high flow ; But when the storm had ceased its wrath. And vanished from the sod, The dwellers of the ark came forth, ^^'^^ To offer to their God ; — To see the waste of cities crushed, , ." The forms o'er which cold streams had rushed. To view as on their knees they bowed, , j The bow of promise in the cloud. That bow is there with every hue. And wreath of colours rare. And fresh its smiling face we view. As when God placed it there. 'Tis set to say while earth remains, ' The Summer sun shall shine, *' ' Autumn's rich fruit shall clothe the boughs. And rich shall be the vine. Why should we fear to bear the cross, And pine with dread of suffering loss, Or mourn when storms beat high and proud. The bow shines only through the cloud. ;f Not only in the worlds of air, Have rainbows bright been set. There was an hour when dark clouds rare, Around man's pathway met; And Eden's beauties vanished soon, ,. -*, And man was lost for ever, Veiled in dark night was glorious noon, Noon to return, aye, never 1 i , , ' *:"' fO But lo! a voice of gentle 'souhd, Spake "la ransom sure have found, Fear not the storm of vengeance loud ;" I've set my bow high in the '^loud. n That bow was set, and dark the hour ^^ It hung o'er Calvary : Look up each weak and weary form, .^ On to the upper sky \ Love and eternal mercy blent, Their colours in that bow, li-l br?*-. The arch which spans the worlds above, And earth's mean realm below. Let us not fear then e'en to die, And rest at last beyond the sky ; Nor dread the grave, the pall, the shroud. While that blest bow is in the cloud. . -^-^ M J * ,v.t TIIE SONG OF THE WARRIOR. Ours is the turf in its crimson dye. And the flag unfurled to the sun on high ; The bayonet's gleam — the untiring arm, The inspiring song, and the music's charm; The hearts of the bold, as we onward sweep. Like leaves of the tree, or sands of the deep. The hurrying of men on the trampled clay ; The clangour of arms and the war steed's neigh ; The victorious shout when the war is done — When the victor is crowned, and the wreaths are won. The signal of joy — ^the warrior's crest. And the light of home for the last and best. 2 14 THE HOLLY BRANCH. 'U fnii Jon 'in'i nn JvR ov'I a .;r FUNERAL AT SE^. We .buried at sunset, Tlie loving and bravd, While the robe of eve met On the dark tossing wave ; W© gave him the deep And the rock for his pillow, They soothed him to sleep, With the tempest-nursed billow. And fair was the sky, That was round us that even : 'T The sunset's rich dye, And the asure of Heaven,, luti kn .'>.f Together beamed soft, ,--1 itx i^<,t Ur\j. ;; And mellowed the fold, ./ Of the sun-light whii'h streamed aft, In purple and gold. We asked Tor the fresh turf For him v.'io hr.d died, "And there answered the surf, j^ t.' And the white foam replied j So we chanted our hymn, . . ,-, And the wave sung the chorus, f , And evening grew dim, , ,.j As the breakers rolled o'er us. 'jiJ *fT .qv^We placed him to rest, (^^(1 '"I? .qoij-', 'Mid the dance of night's daughters,^ • ^Our organ — the wave crest, li • : it. .it . His vault — the dark waters. \f,h t-ifX — -fi'Mid the sun's dying fire, r'>f»r sjST \yr: ji.'i bilj«;> We laid down his head, / ^iU ur}.d'H Till "the s'»a shall" retire, " fmi-^i'! t^tf'i' 'i'-*^ And "give up her dead." tii^ hn-'k ^; - "I ' J;,,-- I .«-■■-■ i THE LOVELY BRIDE' "^ ^"^^ The breeze blew free, the sun was bright) Upon that dewy morn, And gossamers hiad slept all night, '"^''' '''•'*' In leaf, and bush, and thorn 5 '*^'*^ "• Till warm noon came, the sun's full tide, On the broad earth was thrown, He sent his rays all far and wide. As vassals from his tln'one. "'" ' -'^ Lo ! one bright strealc had found a hall, Wherein its light might softly fall. It gleamed as if it stole its leave, Soft as the fountains glide, And gazed on one who that bright eve. Would stand a lovely bride. The rose-bud and the choicest flowers. Adorned the festal room — Bieh crimson hues from chosen bowers, ' With leaves of snowy bloom ; - * The buds that live by crystal founts. The heaths that grow on rugged mounts. In that loved room where all was calm, Was a form kneeling there : She came to seek a heavenly balm. And bent her knee in prayer. The flowers raised their fingers free,;.. .; Sweetly as breath of even, " • And delicately smiled to see. That man might reach to Heaven; An,d breathed as fresh as spring's first sod. At \70man pleading with her God. v^ir- ',rr. • •»- M**i ■.•! I hi J I' fi And gentle tears stole down the faoe Of that young girl so fair, As yet she sought a richer grace, ...iw..;.«. To tread her path with care ; She thought how that dark radiant eye. In coming years may dim, — Each fund one seek a sunnier sky, And go above to him. Faith flung a hope o'er that dark sea, That as her days, her strength should be. Kneel on, fair girl — dark days may come, And suffering years be thine. Yet storms diminish not the bloom, x .. < That from the pure stars shine : The ocean floods will sweep the lands, And all their vengeance hurl, They do but wash away the sands, Briiarhter to leave the pearl j And they who plant the tender vine. May eat the fruit and drink the wiuQ, Hit T': :A::t' i* • d.-; THE LAST PLAGUE OF EaYPT, EH if V\ 'Twas sunset, and many had gathered to see, < The gold and the purple that pencilled each tree. And sweet wan the sound of the timbrel and song. As night threw its shade o'er the revelling throng. And fairer than ever the eve to that band, For darkness had sceptred the face of the land { And bright was the sun and rich was his smile,' On the country of Egypt and land of the Nile. fi THE HOLLT BRANCH. 17 But St midnight, that midnight, O! sad was its tale, Lol the &oe of the kinsman grew terribly pale, And the song died away on the lips of the boldj And the kiss of affection oame sadly and cold. Clear fell the moonbeam, and pallid its light, On the face that at star-rising laughed in delight; And the brow that frowned wrath on the Israelite slave, At midnight grew cold as the bright fountain wave. The delicate forms of the daughters of men, ' Escaped not the wrath of the Messenger then ; The blush from the soft cheek had taken its leave, And long tresses were left where the spoiler could weave : And the hand that was pressed in true friendship's warm grasp, Grew like marblo and ice in the strength of the clasp ; And hushed was the coming of many known feet. The red veins stood sUll in their noiseless beat. / ■ ■ - 1. .* . ^ /* Chill in his cradle the baby slept now, _ Chill was the tomb, for tears poured on his brow ; Ere the watch of that midnight had hurried and fled. The first-born of Egypt lay helpless and dead. And the daughters of Mizriam are sad for that train, And the dwellers in Rahab weep over the slain. And sorrow reigned then from the dungeon alone, , To the gleaming of turrets, and pride of the throne. And the chains of the Hebrews fell down from their hands. For they who had graven and molten their bands, Lo the power became as the might of the reed, At the word of Jehovah, and strength of his deed. 18 TUB HOLLT BRANCH. ON A TABLET, ma IN TUK LODOR-ROOM OF TIIK ODD FKLLOWB IN HAMILTON, C.W., ON WHICH IS XNBCRIDKD THk: NAUKS OF THE DECEABICD MEMBERS OF TUK ORDER IN THAT LOOQC. Brethren behold this magio thing, ; That speaks of those — the fled, And gives the throbbing human heart, A token of the dead. Yes, comrades, pass on, and behold Upon that marble fair, A link with other worlds than this — Our brothers' names are there. We bear no coffin, hearse, nor pall, To cause affection's tear to fall. Yet doth this symbol — ah, too well, Call those who no more with us dwell. >'iiAr> ■-'t>j iii iifii 'ts'".'' "We have not given it to the earth, Or to the mouldering sod. Where every brother calmly waits, The coming of our God. We place it not where winter storms, Or tempests wild shall smite, The token of those absent forms. Who dwell in Death's dark night. Wo bring it where our eyes will fall, And every well known voice recall ; We place it where their form« once stood, The brothers of our brotherhood. Is not our love-bound army now. Like a green spreading tree, Those who the spoiler's wrath hath spared, Shall not forgotten be. ...,..i; BICH IB t, I'* k A' THK HOLLY BJIAMCH. 19 ' Tho leaves have fallen— yet are fresh In memory's hallowed fold, ...v' The silver cords have long been loosed, But we the links yet hold. One's hero to show the aicher's dcrt, • The feelings of each brother's heart ; To shew upon life's restless sea. That some are now — what we shall be. f Behold with art is here engraved. \ Each name we called them by, "Who next amrng our band enrolled ■?<.'•? Km A Upon that stone shall lie ? Before another year is come, . :. How many shall have fled ? Oh, brothers! who of us shall go To slumber with the dead ? Yet if we pass— the rest will keep ■ ''■ ' ■ Our names within their bosoms deep 5 « *1 Friendship is purer than the wave, And love is stronger than the grave. Lo ! brethren, are we not all men ? And shall we not all fail ? Bow meekly 'fore the tablet then, Before the cheek grows pale. Death's waves beat hard upon the shore, And blast it as they flow ; Time's suns come hot upon the sods, And blanch them as they go. The flower is fair — up comes the main ; That youthful flower smiles not again ; The Spring gives more— but yields not up, The buds which decked the ocean's cup. 30 Till nOLLT BRANCH. 'Tifl BO with them ;-— no longer they Can mingle with our throng; No more ihall those gone be with ui, In vow, — in pledge, — in song. Then brethren let us cast our eyes, Oft on this marble true, For each beneath the green earth goes, For us no more to view. Each hand is still — each form is hid, 'Neath his name on the coffin lid ; And more must go: — well may we stand, And sorrow for a better land. CHRISTMAS SONNET. The glory floated off, the beautiful, the grand, Again the waves of Heaven's blue curtain slept. Again Judea's stars peeped from its folds — bright band. When the pinions of the heaven decked host had swept Back into Heaven. What breathings had been heard 'Mid the moon's brightness, on the rock at rest. No mortal ear e'er listened to those words ^ With which the circlers of the Throne had blest The mountain watchers. They told a Son was given j They marked his couch ; — shepherds heard Angels say The Child slept not 'mid shades of velvet riven j Not in a terraced mansion, lit with ruby's ray } No crimson pall of Egypt's art was spread, But the rude manger was his cradle bed. 1 ^'l LAY OF AFFECTION. ^t. Forget thee ! No : I think of thee from the dawning of the day, To the holy and the hallowM hour when sun-light fades away. Can the sea-gull e'er forget over ocean's wave to spring — Can the eagle bird forget the shadi) of its mother's soaring wing — Can the sun's bright beam neglect to shine when daylight's ray is strewn : Can the river ever cease to swell bene'ath the brilliant moon — Can the panting hart forget the spot where summer waters flow — Can the sun-struck traveller forget where gentle breezes blow ? These may forget, yet cannot I forget thy love and eares, Thy watchful eye, thy gentle words, and thy love-breathing prayers 5 And oft I seem to hear thy voice as in childhood's early hour, And I weep for days when thoushalt view with me each chosen bower; When I dream of thee, there comes a voice like to the rushing main , Which soothes my heart, and says that I shall meet thee yet again. ff Oh! could I thank thee for the care and kindness thou hast shown, Then I would traoe the world to find treasure thou shouldest own ; Pour eastern riohes at thy feet and kingdoms wide and free ; — But a heart of love is the holiest thing, aud that I bear to thee ; For when in days of infancy thy hand on me was laid, There flowed a fountain of pure love which never can be stayed. The eagle may forget the rock, the ocean-bird the sea ; * The flowers, they may cease to bloom — I will remember thee 1 And something whispers to my hea,Tt, that totheeshalt be givep. To meet those thou hast deeply )ove4| and welcome them to heaven. We shall love on when time is past ; past each retiring breath ; Eternity affeetion seals — stronger it is than Death ) 32 TnC nOLLY BRANCH. LOST IN THE SIGHT OF LANx>. Ught were tho hearts of all that band, Amid the billow's foam, As side by side they nobl^ stand, Bound for their far-off home. Their leader, distant from a throng Of brethren brave and free, Who wait to hear again the song, Of him who rides tho sea. Wcury with watching ocean's sweep, His anxious glance had viewed The breaking of the mighty deep. Upon the sea-beach rude. Scarce had he breathed the breath of valei| Blooming with flowers bright. When fiercely blew the rushing gales, , Amid the beacon's light. That queenly bark went quickly down. Her wheels rushed on no more; Sad was her death mid tempest ftownji^. i,, And gleamiiigs of the shore. One glance upon the sunny land ; Dim grew the watcher's eye ; And he who hurrying sought that strand, Smiled on it but tq die. There gleamed the b^con and the bay, I'here shone the glorious sea, 'Aiid bftniiers bright, and dear as i&f J.u ) f,,./ .wl .Mrit *,•■*'.■ ■ ,iJ. The sailor, where was he 7 nc.iv/'lft« '(liui TUB HOLLY BRANOU. 33 Go nsk tho waves that hovered dork, i Hir»{/[ t>ttA " Round his lait homo-bound ligh} , ., „ , ,. .,,^.^ |,„; Go Mk the waves that stayed hia bark, . ^.^ i>i(7f And dimmed the Beaman's eye. ih-jlmif' ) .'/ <% And seek 'neath yon chesnut tree thy play ; Why thus forgetting each scene of mirth. Dream of treacherous joys away from earth ? , Go then, my boy, while the sun is high. Wave thy bright locks 'neath the azure sky." f'i"5 ■ya y-i And CO that fond one turned away. Turned to the festal board, lie heard the lyre's softest lay, He saw the red wine poured, ^ And on him proud ones fondly smiled^ Bent o'er him stately forms, Yet grew that fair and gentle child^ A lilly midst the thorns. ' ~ [/ it ■'■:(..:. ^If - "**■ ■■** Pt, '■•!?iO! •• -J > ^ . "i ■t y^i V ■a!" THE HOI.T.T BRANCH. * 25 And like a lonely bird of song, Who wandereth from the nest, He stole away from that gay throng, * - And calmly sought hhs rest. The stars were bright upon the lea. Green leaves waved in their sight, Calm shadows fell upon the sea, Pale was the moon that night ; But calmer still wore those blue eyes. Paler that face so (air : The boy had fled above the skies, f For God to teach him there. i. SABBATH BELLS AT SEA. . % -■.'.,,,■" If holy throbs across us steal, , Whose charm we may not tell,- Afl we listen to that music peal, ^ - A deep-toned Sabbath bell ; How strong the magic fire doth glow, ' When sacred days we see, r Amid the waves' unceasing flow. And Sabbath bells at sea. : — . No cloistered fane, no marble steep, Their booming tale doth hear. Of treacherous breakings of the deep, Of terror, woe, and fear : - 3 26 THE nOLLT BRANCH. No mountain ctoth retain the sonnd^ No river, rock, or lea, !6ut foanring sttrf tlie Hotes resound Of Sabbath bells at sea. '■i Tfiey call not forth a cottfifge band From o'er the flowery glade, Nor fair ones of a blooming land, Steal from the myrtle's shade j . No city poureth forth its throng, Like Summer streamlets free. At the deep billow's echoing song Of Sabbath bolls at sea. They call the waves adopted child. The ocean's daring son, To breathe with Heaven ; while tempest wild. And rushing waves, sweep on : These learn to feel as on they march, While yet they bend the knee, The baptism of the breakers arch, 'Mid Sabbath bells at sea. A-c V ':i O ! ye who cherish shades of lovo, ' ^ Bright flow 'rets of the heart, *^t?- I ,' Whose tendrils reach from Heaven above, To this our mortal part *, Whene'er before God's throne ye kucol, Forget not those, the free, Who ever listen to the peal Of Sabbath bells at f^ca. 1^. ■ .? ij : THE HOLLY BRANCH. 2: 'i ♦ . ' / THE STRANGER'S GRAVE. The Stranger's Grave, the Stranger^s Grave, High o'er it lofty branches wave ; Wild flowers shed their rich perfume, Summer birds chant their sweetest tune ; ' ^ The sun's first rays bright glowing fall, Upon that lowly grave-yard wall ; And zephyr's leaving their silent cave, Play softly over the Stranger's Grave. The Stranger's Grave! We gaie and weep, Musing on her who alone doth sleep. Far from her home and her native dell, Far from all those she loved so well ; And calmly here, 'neath the green grass sod, Resteth in hope of her Saviour God. We bend o'er her tomb and silently crave, The faith that could gild a Stranger's Grave. ' The Stranger's Grave! No father dear May weep at this tomb Affection's tear; ; No mother's love may her last sleep tend, Or over her death'Couch lowly bend ; No brother may watch her eye-lids close In death, that firm, that long, repose. No sister's hand brings flowers to wave ^ O'er her who sleeps in a Stranger's Grave, -^t t: The Stranger's Grave ! When the dart of death Struck, did none mourn at the last drawn breath ? Were there none who wept when they laid her low ? Did no tear of sweet compassion flovtr? O ! yes, there were those who night and day For her did watoh, and weep, and pray ; And grieved when they found no help could save T'fee friend they loved from a Stranger's Grav0^ i 28 TIIK HOLLT BRANCH. The Stranger's Grave ! O'er her we stand, And lay her far from her household band ; But not without hope she rests in peace, And death to her was a kind release. Her body rests through Time's brief night, While her spirit bathes in realms of light ; And angel bands do their pinions wave. Watching around the Stranger's Grave. -..fr WATCHERS IN HEAVEN. What are your forms, and whence your rays, Glorious watchers in Heaven ? ■ Hiding the waves of cerulean skies, As the outspread wing of the fire-flies On an azure deep ; so brightly ye sail In the depths of heaven, in the moon-lit pale; When the red bright banner of eve has hung The rocks and the founts and the woods among ; When the quiet hours of night are nigh, And twilight surrounds earth, ocean, and sky ; Then gleam your sweet orbs your pallid light, - .. For ye spangle the sky the live-long night — , , ^ Watchers in Ilea' au. What are your forms, and whence your rays, Glorious watchers in Heaven ? We hear no sound of your mighty reign ; We list not the rush of your sweeping train ; We see no spark of your engine's force. We feel no shock from your passing course.; THB HOLLY BRANCH. 29 O! speak, are your cHmes in verdure drest? '■' " Do mortal feet pass o'er your jewel breast? "!"'»^ What sun gilds your land with its radiant beam, Doth immortal light to your mansions stream. '' As seraphic beings sweep softly by. And one glance of their wing lights your dreary sky- Watchers in Heaven. . // What are your furms and whence your rays, Glorious watchers in Heaven ? O ! say are ye golden lyres a throng, Whom nngels strike to an heavenly song ? Then higher swell the niusical tide. Echo it through the sky far and wide ; Till at least one note of the Heaven-born lay, Borne by the breeze to earth away, Shall catch the ear of a mortal being, While chained to the spot by a spell unseen, We have heard the sound of seraphic choirs, And breathed the breath of celestial fires — Watchers in heaven. What are your forms and whence your rays, Glorious watchers in Heaven ? In a holy throng, 'bove the cloudlet's tent, Ye traverse the throne of the firmament. Oh! what is earlli this one sparkling dot, ..j..l By the side of thy band, man numbers not| 'Tis one plashing wave of the ocean dark, One only note from the rising lark; ;. One single plume from an eaglt^'s wing, ^ One jewel alone in the crown of a king, • ...j \, One pearl from Ormus' treasures deep. By the side of thy baud who in grandeur sweeps- . Watchers in Heaven. ,,> . -..'>'? I r-: <*/ I! I 30 THE UOLLT BRANCH. What are your forms, and whence your rays, , Glorious watchers in Heaven? Are ye thronged with those who know no sin, Who are like to the Cherub and Seraphim ? Oh ! then, with them may we one day kneel, Where no waves of sorrow our peace may steal ; But if from amid your unnumbered force. This earth alone may hold intercourse With God and Heaven ; if your beaming forms Gleam only as dew when have passed the storms : Then know that a Power shall one day roll Your mystic myrmidons as a scroll, And the throngers of this world ehall stand Brilliant among your retiring band— " Watchers in Heaven. fi MOSES IN THE BULRUSHES. fM /(" . Far north of Ethiopia's climate, under the shade of palm » • And plantain, an Hebrew mother sat. ^ - Her tears fell fast upon the fallen leaves, like Pearls and emeralds. She knelt awhile : her Lips moved slowly. She rose and turned away, Seeking, her home. There was a room On which the sun was smiling, but the Broad fig-leaf half hid the radiance. There Stood that mother as she gently bent over Her boy — her own well guarded treasure. ^ - Fondly he smiled upon her as she wept, and Spake— .^, _. ,. ^ , , _,,,,^^^ ,„,. . k THE IIOLLT BRANCH. 31 ^■.^i- Oh! that sweet smile, That loving smile, which rends my anguished heart; Thoughts of remembered kindness where love's pure rays dart, So makibg fuller yet my o'erfuU cup, My cherub boy, how can I give thee up To yon rude Nile*^? Oh! my fair child. When I shall sound again the timbrel's note, And its loved tone upon the breeze doth float 5 It shall nut raise the lay I sang to thee, But one of sadder, sadder melody. And accents wild, i- ^^f '. i • My lovely one ; I feel that I am giving thee a grave, But not the calm rest of Macpelah's cave ; Not with our Father Abraham's sleeping daughters, But to the deep and sparkling water;}, Thoa must be gone. God take thee boy ; > Thou canst not long remain beside the brink Of those devouring waves. 1 dp not, dare not, think How the rushing stream shall thee beguile. And o'er thy youthful limbs shall dash the Nile, My bud of joy. Yet my own love A something whispers to me, thou wilt come Ere long back to thy father's home; Yet if we meet not in captivity. My loving boy, I soon shall meet thee ' V In worlds above. " Strong was that Mother's faith ; firm in the God of Israel. Day Wore away, and ere the sun was blushing in The waters, God gave her back her boy. \ n And she caressed him till ho Laughed to feel his mother's kiss, and slept In peace, till his lone rest upon the river was To him as au annoying dream r I i'i;. ' THE BIRD OF THE SEA. ' Sea-bird, whence thy onward flight • * In the curling ocean's might? • ' Not amid the oak's green branch. Not where suns the white sands blanch ; But amid the shoreless sea. Mariner thy home must be. » • ' TV'hen the pealing thunders crash, When the billows softly splash j In the light of burning noon. When the soft and mantled moon. With her sparkling sons and daughters Shines, thou'rt with them on the waters, They for whom ' thou bar'st thy breast, Fill a distant grass-built nest, For no rock is nigh at hand, Far from verdure, far from land; .. Farther than the eye can reach, Is the beacon and the beach. Sea-bird, not thy bands alone, . f, Listen to the wave's deep tone, ' ' Where the sea-woed decks the foam, Loved ones from their dwelling roam ; In thy trackings of the sea, rt s , All our brethren are with thee. •1/^ f'l^; c» ■ ' - m! TUB nOLLT •RANCH. 33 ho '■' O"'. They who strung the gentle lyre, Tune their souls to te .'sts dire ; They to whom love's titjileti were given, Far from home's soft light are driven. And their well-nerved hands they train, To the oable^and the chain. Tliou hast seen the sailor die, And hast viewed his glazing eye; Tliou hast caught his hastening breath, Flitting in the air of death ; 'Mid the tempest and the Wast, Thou wast with him to the last. Ocean bird, when skies are dark, And the floods sweep o'er the bark, And the skill of gathered bands, "With the strength of migl)*y hands ; And the hopes we've loved all fiil, As the crimson ehcek grows pale; Then, bold wanderer of the sea. May we learn to trust as thee. When we travel all alone, -I , ; • .: In the dreary forests lone, Or amid the mountain's steep, "Where the tempests onward creep ; Then we'll learn where strength is given — Watch and firmly trust in Heaven. . a ,*i . . . I. .: J , itBi! 34 THB HOLLY BRANOn. SWIiT DAYS. How io Aaya pass away 1 Like moisture on the dewy grass at morn, Gone when the sun's bright ray, Sniika on the ruby rose and every thorn. 'Tin thus they pass along In pleasant meetings with the friends we love, la full melodious song, In summer walks amid the favorite grove. In childhood's happy hours, When gentle blossoms smile in golden bloom j And many woodland flowers. Speak not of manht od's sorrows or the tomb. , .' %' ." la times when partin<^ comos, And friend from loving friend at last must sever. And go to other homes, How fast the days flow ero they part for ever. Wiicn messages must steal Upon i'lo captive that his time is o'er. And prison bells do peal. How few the hours which were long before. Thus our days pass away, Liko moisture on the dewy grass at morn, Gone when tho saa's- bright ray Smiles on the glorious rose and every thorn. But long tho hours grow, When we are waiting for the accustomed guest, And silent tear-drops flow. When he returns not to his place of res^. THE HOtXT "Hi: OH. u When tho wrecked seamen stand, f - And longing wait to see the tapering masi And mourn fur distant land, And wait for morning and the tempent post. When wo wait for a sign Of love and friendship from our brother bands ; Stranger this length is thine, Tho length of weary days in foreign lands. Still if we number years, . . And all are with us that we fondly crave, At best they are but tears, We must lie down as all our fathers have. Tims our days pass away, Like moisture on tho dewy grass at morn ; Gone when the sun's bright ray, Smiles on the glorious rose and every thorn. THE FREEMASON'S BURIAL. ^^ WRITTEN O.N THE DEATH OF BROTHER G. P. BULL. What means this manly train.' [ What means that banner furl'd ? Death gave his steed the rein, -. , i And a fierce arrow hurl'd. '' Hark ! for tho touching word ' **'" ''"^^ Sounds o'er the open tomb; * ' '* . Hush, for the thrilling tones are heard, Sweetly amid the gloom. .™ , .. >=,ri ill ■, 36 TUB IIOLLT BRAKOH. Masons! we have laid him now, In the grave alone and low ; Brother ' Masons, shall we weep O'er his calm unbroken sleep? '.■ ■ ' Faithful brethren, shall we mourn Him whose dust to earth we've borne? " His dust to earth," — as those sounds went past, Love's gentle tear-drops fell free and fast. Masons! he hath often stood, One amid our brotherhood ; • He, Masonic rites hath tried, And a Mason he hath died; ' Far away are regions fair, » . >• -. , Surely our lost one's there. '' Our lost one's there," — and the brothers blest The voice which had called him to take hit rest. Masons ! there are honors high. On the form which there doth liej These have passed through ancient times, Wearing out proud kings and climes; And our changeless hopes are seen. In the fadeless evergreen. " Our evergreen" — ere that form was hid, The branches lay on the coffin Ud. Brother Mason 3! onward build. Till the lower courts are filled; Till the Master Builder calls Each one to the upper wails ; ^ill the sun and moon shall fade. Till the top stone shall be laid ; Till our holy brethren stand. In the Eternal's chosen land. ''The Eternal's land"— they sighed for the meeting, All loving brothers, all lasting greeting. \ THI UOLLY BRANOII. 37 'H ^y Masoni ! we are pledged to stand . Firm in one unbrolceu band ; l 4 ! tingi 1! liU I: 38 TUB UOLLT BRANCH. THE MOTHER'S PRESENTIMENT, McthoDght, as 'I gazed on thine eye so bright, My boy thou wert not for our mortal sight ; When I saw liow the butterfly passed thee, by, And thou heeded it not 'mid the summer sky; And thy glance was sad on the budding flowers-— 1 felt thou wert not long for earthly bowers. When thou cared'st not to sport in the sun-beams traek, Nor summoned Spring's flitting hours back; When thou bower'dst thyself in the uiyrtle's shade, And Yisiona of Heaven were upon thee laid ; As thou spakest of dreams of a world on high, A dread murmur whispered thou should'st die. When I saw thy bright glance track the starry sky, As thou breathed a deep prayer for a rest on high ; And thy pure npirit struggled to break its chain, As an anchor-bound bark on the heaving main. I saw thy fair soul from this frail earth was riven: I knew thou wert neaiing thy mansion in Heaven. When thou told of the angel who beckoned to thee. Too truly I felt that thou wert not for me ; That the glow of thy face waa too bright to last long, That soon thou must move with an heaven-girded throng: So I yielded thee np to the arrows of Death, For Angela rejoiced o'er thy sad partbg breath. »*«WM**MAM THI HOLLT /RANCn. 39 18 traek, n: hee, long, d throng: . To SIR ALLAN NAPIER MACNAB, Knight, M. P. P., ON HIS RETUftN PROM ENGLAND— I84S. ,!T O ! noble Knight, we welcome thee back, y From the foaming wave ^nd the sea-bird's iracV; Gladly summon the back to the crowded mart, With a joyous smile and a thankful heart. We welcome thee home to thy household band, Witli thy generous heart and ready hand. To the verdant mounts and the flowery grove, To the festal board and the graves you love. .;, ,^vX. Kmi 1 Not with the voices that music calls, Have we led thee back to thy castle hallB; Nor has the sceut of Autumnal flowers, Led thy steps up to thy chosen bowers; Nor at thy feet have we laid the gold — Thine are the hearts of the brave and bold ; The Widow's thanks and the Orphan's plea, The smile of the friendless-one greeteth thee : !.. These are all dear in thy generous sight— > 4 They lie at thy feet, our gallant ICnight. Thou hast trod the deck of the found'ring bar'r. But we prayed for thee when skies grew dark. Danger hath met thee on many a strand-— ^,- We asked thy protection on sea and land. T Thy voice was heard, and thy step hath been In the stately halls of our fair young Queen* .tK-T Thou hast stood for us in the gathering erowcl, .r^ In the swelling throng of tho high and proud, i>t| Who do not boast in their mansion bright. Of one heart more true than our gallant Knight. We know thy voice when the pealing song Of the martial drum wakes the waiting throng ; 40 THE HOLLY BRANCH. " * "We have felt the spell of the falling tear, • '^''^•' That fell from thine eye by the lovedrone'ft bier. Then from the ocean and swelling foam,,- 1 . >^^ We welcome thee back to thy woodland home. Though no loved sons for thy coming wait, r.^ ' No gentle bride by that castle gate ; Yet they may be here in their radiance bright. And watching thy pathway, our gall,ant Knight. May length of years to thy life be giveti, And clouds of care from thy path be driven; - And then at last when thy life is flod, And we lay thee low in a narrow bed, May Angels guide thee ]to dwellings bright, r While we think on thee, our noble knight, . . As the crimson sun on the clouds of even, \ Fades from the sight, but is saf^ in Heaven. . :^-n.;,^^#. at*>i-a'>»(T f A FLOWER FOR A GRAVE. Many a form was gathered there. .,,j ~,ff j,,j{ Around an open tomb, ..jj And those, the joyous and the fair, .,y/ Were sad amid the gloom ; \ ^ ^,^^ Beneath that grave-yard's solitude, adl ol ^jyyf Hushed was each anxious breath, i s,c^ And silent stood the multitude ^ ^^i f;{ Around the shrine of death. ^y^ Pure fell the sun-beam's radiance bright 10 Upon the sleeper thore, And mournfully its holy light ^^f^*^-'*** ^^'^^ Touched the brow, polished rare ; *<^^ ^^ uT TUB HOLLY BRANCU. 41 I For Death's pale charger onward went, He passed our chosen bower, , , Over the lilly's form he bent, And languid grew the flower. That throng stole sofily, one by one, To where Death's seal was spread ; Ihe eye's deep language spoke alouo The love they bore the dead ; And thoughts came hurrying onward still, Visions that swept earth past, Dreams of that land, where no more ill, Or wintry storm, is cast. Those mourners, sadly did they weep, For her whom Timo had stole ; Brethren and sister's love grew deep In fountains of the soul ; Yet, 'mid the grief that glowing streamed From each fond weeping eye. Sweet were the hopes that brightly beamed ■ . Of immortality. There was a beauteous infant pair. And routul tach fond young heart, The dreamless sleepers' faithful lovo Had ever borne its pait. Now, mournful stood those children by, Gazing half fearful on The work of sad mortality — The boon the grave had won. We laid the fair crushed casket down, Knowing its jewel bright Was beaming in Immauuel's crown, Enrobed in heavenly light. r — • 42 TTIB ITOLLT BRANCH. 'We could iiot tell what raiment glorious Over her form was thiovvn : We knew jsho swelled the 6ong melodious, Around lier Saviour's throne. And when our feet shall prcKs no moro , This frail earth sorrowful ; O ! may we meet on that blest shore Where all is beautiful. Then shall we see her, not with hearts Sad at the tic fresh riven : But dwell with ihose we love, nor part Beneath the bloom of Heaven. PRAYER. { Prayer is aco(];tablc tollim, who earth';-! foundations laid ; j To Hirn that pet the bands of rock where ocean's wavc3 are atay'd ; Though his own dwelling has no bound, and none can stay \ih hand, j He loves to hear the voice of Praj cr from his own children band. Whether from they whose sightless eyes see not swcetsummer things, Or they whose cars may never list the gush of water c prints ; From children by Ihe cottage door, lisping their evening ploa. Or they whose dashing wave-washed bai ks are out upon the sea. From those ambassadors of Heaven, who, on each holy day, Lead as a shepherd e^ch his flock toward one God to pray, With him whose habitation drear is in the forest wild, With him who throws the idol block back to the heathen child. Tlie king who bendoth on his knee, and all his wealth doth spurn, The prodigal, who, wand'ring now, doth to his God return; All, all tho supplicating words that man, frail man, doth raise, Will reach the Eternal's ear who dwells 'mid peans of endless praise. THE nOLLT BRANCH. , 43 ' id; I irc Btay'd ; j fh'iii hand, j :i band. j mcr things, [>loa, I the sea. y. hild. h spurn, rn; iise, dless praiee. >t THE EXILES DliE.XM OF HOME. I stand upon tho surf-beat beach, and hear tl\o boatsman'a oar, And view thy columns rising swift, proud ocean to the shore ; Upon my forehead thou dost dash thy briny drops, canst tliou Ere whisper hjvc and iiinduess with thy deep treacherous flow ? Chant on, cliant on, thy BokMiin lay, thy untranslated hymn, From ihe time of morning's rosy dawn, to midnight's hour dim; For thou do.st wear away the shore, with billows sporting wild, But oh it is not fretted like earth'a lonely time-worn child. I see thy gorgeous banner now, thou glorious eventide, , The hue of garnicnts that have been steeped in the battle tide ; Thy golden lays arc &oft and swctt as on tliy balmy car Thou bcaref t oft' the light of day behind the forest bar. Earth is arousing now IVum'sloep, waked by thy breath O ! Spring, I track thy chariot on the turf, I sec tl;y glancing wing 5 This day 1 heard thy choristers breathe in their glorious prime, Their melody was rich and full as vcppcr's holy chime. . . The vesper's holy chime, what thought,! tlioso ihrilling words awake Of wand 'rings taken 'mid i.hc graves wncn the light of morn did break? Then often I would mark the spot where 1 at last would sleep, Whatflow'rso'er my liead would wave, what tree iheir watch pho'd keep. Scene of my bojhood distant far, where the green niyrtlo twines. And blooming with the purple hue of ripened clustering vines ; I scarce may trust my treacherous heart, again to think on thee, Or drink the spirit of the breeze, that floats across thco free. I may not trust that tide which brings each dai k wave higher Btill, To grieve my soul with thoughts of home beside the rose-crowned hill; For then my mournful exiled lot should sadder, lonelier grow, As memory's warm streamlets rushed on with a deeper flow ; And bear me visions which I fain would sink in endless night, And the dungeon of my soul grow dark mid dreams of early light ; Ere yet 1 learnt that mother's love could grow liko marble cold, And one amid her infant band no joyous spot might hold. 44 THE UOLLY BRANCH. I, though unloveJ, a inoiher had, and yet I ever passed Amid the fountains of her soul-liko flowers on the blast ; Yet sweet amid the gpening dawn of childhood's mirthful years, Bright dreams shone beautiful through scenes of sunshine and of tears. Ere ytt I found that brethren's hearts might pass upon the truce Of words spoke fondly 'noath the seal of pasisionate embrace. And stay those hidden founts of love which scarcely yet had streamed, And quench the light of thai pure flame whose ray so brightly beani'd; But soon I learnt that years of lovo were not a boon for me. And back upon my stricken soul fast rushed affection's sea. I could not kneel before that shiinc so beautiful and fair. Nor seek a boon fi^r her who stood in marble mantle there ; J dared not trust my eye to rest on the almost heavenly sight, Of that sweet face which gleamed so soft with crimson waves of light; So I grew strong to Lave our hulls, enwrapt in Papal beams, '_• ■'/■ Yet folding up the iranost scul in robes of dreary dreams. 1 hat chancel and that terraced choeur were not my resting place, So the lone one turned away from them a stranger land to trace. It is a sad and bitter thing for the loved i'.nd cherished child. To leave the light of bowercd homes, for ocean's tempest wild ; And sad to think of household groups of once united bands. To Ecatti-r far and wide away 'mid other stranger lands. But my lone heart a saddt-r tale of heavier woe doth tell, For when I left my early home, no fond one sighed ftirewell } Yet one there was who would have given a tender thought for me. But she veiled her face 'ueath convent v/alls, at altars beat the knee. Bright the blue evening shone that hour with the glorious set of sun. Wheuthe wronged eaglet turned to gaze where hio last work was done; When 'mid the fair flushed face of even npon the woods I gazed, And breathed a fond adieu to those,tyward whom my eyes were ra's'd. I knew that now no flowers arc watched because I loved their bloom. No forest lonely shade is sought because I've paced its gloom ; The echo of that cloistered dome where vesper's notes do steal, Swells loud, yet is my voice forgot amid its tuneful peal. il years, and of tears, le trace race, Lidstreamccl, ;htly beani'd; me, ica. - ': re; sight, avos of light; ams, IS. ng place, to trace. hlld, 3t wild ; mds, 11, iwcll ; ■ht for me, .nt the knee. LIS set of sun, >rk was done; I gazed, s were rals'd. [ their bluoiii, [loom } lo steal, THB HOLLT BRANCH. 45 But my brow grows fevered with tho thoughts ofhomo and distant climes O, might I lave my anguished soul even in eoming times ; In billows of affection's sea, and view those anciejjt walls, In all their imag'd pride and pao^ again tho^e marble halls ! With those who would have loved had I once bowed to stately fanes. But my free-born soul preferred to scan Italit^'s blooming plains ; So I no more those lime tree shade or myrtle bowers may see. For heme and friends and kindred kind are but a dream to me. For the motlier who in early hours once on her darling smiled, Cast as a devotee would give her long-forsaken child To stranger hearts and ctrangcr lands, and they who know him not, And she sorrowed not, she wept not, o'er her first-born's lot. Why should 1 charge, charge even thee, thou calmly breathing wind With the melancholy feeling deep, that doth oppress my mind ; But thou shalt ehant my funeral dirge softly, swet t evenmg breeze. And thou the chorus shi\lt return with thy roar,high dashing seas. For soon the hour will come when I must sleep my lasting sleep, And the grave, the gloomy grave, alone the record sad shall keep; Thou alone will mark my tears, thou ever-heaving tide, For mingling with ihy wave, my tears shall flow by thy rough side My country's flag may not be made my last my burial shroud. Thou canst fling thy pall o'er me, eoft fleecy evening cloud ; Nor bell toll loud from ancient church like music wild and free. The sombre wave shall beat the shore, and that may toll for me. '5-M. <„l 'rirr And vesper breeze bear in thy arms, some flower thou lovcst well. From garden or mount side, from forest, bower, or dell ; That they alone may mark the spot where tho lone wanderer rests, Let them be watered by the spray of ocean's heaving breast. I give to ye my grief, my tears, my pain for death is nigh, And ye must keep them firm and fast, ocean, and wind, and sky ; Should ye travel to my native land, and they ask of ye to tell The exile's death, deliver then, oh stranger land, farewell ! >-5«.'! f { ^-..:= 46 THB HOLLT MANCn. A THOUGHT OF OCEAN. r?i:-t\ -,"T Ocean, unresting and Unconquered. Thou dost rear thy head and wavo thy Stormy plumo, and myriads tremble. Who ever ruled Thy kingdom 7 In vain did Canute's courtiers bid Their Monarch roll thy waves and fold thy massive Billows. In vain did Xerxes order his bold followers To lash thee to obedience. Thou dost peal thy deep- toned organ and The mariner one moment deems it as Iiis choir— the next His funeral chant. ; j,, , i ,! . - . ., ''..-■/. '<• And thy dead, Ocean ! thy dead Wo give to thee the sailor and the brave ; but thou dost Grant to us no record of their tomb, l^rth keeps the Record of her sleeping sons, the lowly mound, the Tablet and the churchyard stone, they mark her 4 > / Dead. And even on the field of battle wo behold The grass grow deeply darkly, green, and we know it has Been planted in the blood of mortals. But thou throw 'at Back no tidings of the lost. Where is the catalogue, the W^eary catalogue of evils thou hast brought upon the Sons of men? Still thy wave is bright and azure as When first thy bounds were fixed. And in thy beaming Tide there is no stain of blood. Thou art not dyed Crimson with tho streams which flow from rock Torn veins. Nor doth the wealth of all whom thou Hast captive led add to thy beauty. • ' ; f ' Thou dost rear no monumental Fabric over thy conquered! Monarch and slave Together sleep, low in thy br«aat. Thy salt crisp 4^»!K-{ifyM Weeds are made the pall of king and courticn,.5si';;»'H<»v >iA y.^^ Dr He De Br To Ha Tyi M^ Th He Gi^ TUB UOLLT BRANCH. 47 T'f / d ed organ and 3 next ly dead dost tlio But, Ocean, with thy Dread destruction, thou art beautiful. O! the Heart will bound with joy and rapturoos > Deli£rl: *t 'Mid Illinois' forests he lay down to die. The wild chaunt of waters was swoll'n and rare, The wind passed on in its brotherhood there. While the meek suflferer spake, " I're been dreaming long Of our eastern home and the billow's song; Methought while I watched by the waving ua, An eaglet passed by on its pinions fr««; II ■ 11 : 48 TUB HOLLY BRANCH. H. .fi.. He laved Iiis wing where the the breaker foamed, And pleased with the baptism onward he roamed ; But the hunter's' shaft came o'er the waters sped^ And the wounded bird from the billow fled. And I saw his eye was bright on the sun, , .' Thus he gathered fresh strength his race to run, And thus though his plumage was thrown to the sea, He rose to his home majestic and free; He spread his broad wing to the sunny sky, And the eaglet returned to his nest on high. Like that bold one I go, no longer with ye Shall I track the path of life's stormy sea. For the shaft of death hath wounded thy child, And I hasten away from the forests wild. But rejoice that like the young eaglet I go. Not for the prey of the archer's bow. And as that bird looked to the sun as he rose. So strengthened from heaven I vanquish my foes ; For angels around this wilderness %, They wait to convey their brother on high; "i ^}^» 'Tis but the weary one seeking his rest, m>^i^ 'Tis but the eagle going up to his nest. He ceased and turned on his rough couch to sleep, His kindred turned from him to sorrow and weep. •c ■on i And morning came with no sound of joy, The tempest blew still round the emigrant's boy, And the mother sighed for a cradling cot, . But her angel first-born needed it not: ii-i^tf''''*iST For a rushing had been as of Jordan swelling, And a pure spirit passed to where angels are dweUingj For the eagle home to his nest had fled, ,/y And the boy la;^ down with the early dead. Br Bu Ye Hii Bu Er Ar Ad THB HOLLY BRANCH. 49 », I eea, r. ifpf 'ijy »\ .if ■-T leep, ep. AN APOSTROPHE OVER THE GRAVE OF BRANT, ■UPFOiEO TO BE 8FOKi2N BY SIR A. N. MACNAB, P. O. MASTER OF TUB FRATERMITY or FRKKMASONa. V On to the burial, brethren, , . Follow your Master's call. And to the mausoleum, Gather ye one and all ; ,, , ■ ) ,,! < Gird on^our emblems, brethren^ . . , . Emblems of truth and might, < | Might that will fail us never, V '* And truth that knows no night. On to the burial, brethren, A Mison restfth there. But not your loudest footsteps. The lifele&s form shall stir ; . ^ On with the brave dead, brethren, Calmly the ashes rest ; ^' But the spirit is with us, brethren, And with the holy blest. On with the brave dead, brethren, ' Peace! let no sound be heard. Pause! minute gun and sounding bell, Let our farewell be heard. welling; Brother, our Indian Brother, we're bonding o'er thee low. But thou can'st not hear our murmurs, nor mark our heart's throb now; Yet thy spirit may be hov'ring near, for we know our father sends His messengers as mercy from the glory which transcends ; But we're thinking now of what thou wert when thy feet with ours trod. Ere yet thy time worn spirit pass'd to the presence of its God. And,Brother, what wert thou in strife when the trumpet peal'd from far. And the Pale Horse fur his legions came who fell in fearful war ? 5 50 THI HOLLY BRANCH. Some false hearts quailed and turned away to bear a coward's name, Too timid to abido the storm or share a warrior's fame ; But some wero true— I fought with thee through many a hostile crowd, Lo ! we've met again to-day, brother, but thou art in thy shroud. I . And, Brother, what wcr't thou in peace, nh ! let that sounding bell That strikes through every brother's heart its thrilling answer tell ; 'Twasthou who rear'd yon hallowed dome, whose voice in prayerful tone Reached to the high Eternal One, and circled round the throne. When human eyes beheld thee not as in earnest accents mild, Thou wer't pleading for thy kindred of the unshorn forest wild. And, Brother, Brother, what wer't thou in the wondrous history That wraps thee from the world at largo in solemn mystery ? Let us who spanned the arch with thee, who at one altar bent, Who saw the holy light from far to our dark pathway lent ; Let us repeat thy generous deeds, tell of thy truth and love, Till we greet thee blest and perfect in a better land above. A change has come upon thy land since we spake together. Chief, And tall domes rise and firm walls stand where waved the maple leaf j And the waters of the bay, Chief, where shot thine own canoe, Are torn with splashing iron wheels and bear rich treasures through ; But the hearts of they who love thee,oh! have they likewise changed. And from Britain's glorious banner have they become estranged ? Ob! no,but some have met thee, Brant, though a few yet trock life's sea, And one must say this requiem o'er thy noble son and thee. But farewell, Indian brother, wc must bid thee one adieu, 1 here are yet more woes for us to bear, more sorrows to go through ; But we've taught the world to-day. Chief, that the red man of the wild And the white man of the palace, are alike Heaven's favored child ; And we've taught them that there is a spell which is not broke bydeath, A meek yet mighty influence that passes not as breath ; Tlie stars mny fail, the moon may die, the sun be veiled above. But still remains as o'er thee now, brother, the chain of love. ( TUB IIOLLT BRANCn. 51 1'b name, ilo crowd, liroud. ling bell, ver tell j yerfultone irone. ild, wild. history tent, e. , Chief, aple leaf \ an 06, 8 through ; ie changed, anged ? ck life's sea, e. through *, I of the wild red child ; ke bydeath, lOve, >ve. 7 Back back the crowd retirei. Hushed is the minute gun. And the dead remain in silence, The Father and the Son ; But Canada will chronicle, Among her deeds of right, The acta of justice done this day. Beneath the sun's pure light : And when her loyal spirits, Some traitor's plea to grant, Then send her sons to kneelbesid* The burial place of Brant. ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE LORD BISHOP OF TORONTO FOR ENGLAND, APRIL, 1850. The gathering of a host : , ; What means this murmur like the distant sea, Why gazing on the waters dashing free 7 ^ Ontario's coast. No trumpet sound is there, No echoing to the war-steed's dashing by ; No armies with their lances flashing high. The foe to dare. A throng upon the shore 1 Are these the Tyrian bands of olden time. Breathing farewell in this far Western clime, t , All met once more? Ah ! no, but such as these. The Tyrian spirit from earth has not fled. That sleeps not with the records of the dead, In Time's dark seaa. '>„. J, 1 ■ One with years on his brow, The aged prelate comes amongst his flock, For them he goes to dare the wave, the rock, — He speaketh now : " I go, my people, from you all. Yet go I not alone. Your prayers, your blessings, are with me, And still we must be one ; One in our Saviour and our God, Distance may not us part. And in the cause I go to plead,-— Are we not one in heart. ! ^ " I go, my people, there's a voice Bids me this voyage take. Not for bright honor, not for f^ime, 'Tis for the children's sake ; I've seen the wolf essay to snatch The young ones of the fold, — Ere I forget to ' feed tho lambs,' May this warm heart grow cold. "I go my people, deep dark waves Muf t soon between us. roll. But pure and holy beams of faith, Shine on your Bishop's soul : I know a thousand kindred hearts Upon our mother land. Will aid us to rebuild our walls, And shield our infant band. -■ fs^ i , "I go, my people, it may be I'm going to meet my grave ; Beloved ones, my best home's with Immanuel died to save; - - UU.i ar TUB HOLLT BRANCH. 53 n 'if- u si I Should I be gathered to that throng, ' -'^^' And blissful regions fair, •?^^l'. /• Ero I behold your forms again,'' '■ '•• •' *^'^ Oh! meet your Bishop there." The snilless ship had raised Iler throbbing pulses for the dark blue lake, ' And many a cheer and blessing did she take, From they who gazed. — Up rose the silent prayer From many a lip, that each may turn the feet, Of the loved young toward Heaven, and then all meet Tlieir Bishop there. 1 ii^: JB4; S' THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY. What atom of this space. Or spot of this material world, where God is not? What land where shincth not his glorious face? What sky or water, or what shore, what air? No dwelling high or low no distant spot, ^^'^^ ■. But God is there ? .|'It*tH.iM 1>r What time is he not near ? What night that ho doth rest in sleeping? What noon that ho is not in sun-beams clear, *^ In winter houcs or in summer fair ? Whr.t eve do wo behold soft night-dews weeping, And God not there? What climate but he breathes, In blossings on the things his hnnd hath made? Where Southern flowers with all the rich fruit weaves? M THE HOLLY BRANCH. Or where the mariner the ice-bergs dare 7 f Lo ! every blossom in the forest shade Says God is there ! Are there high mounts that rise ' '^ To deck themselves with coronals of clouds, And raise their unstained lips to meet the skies 7 Do they in solitude fill up the vacant air, Wrap up themselves in the blue dome of shrouds? No! God is there. Is there the spreading bough. And soft green turf, and emerald leaves, Where streams leap up to hear the ring-dove's vow, And in their merriment make music fair. With winds that whieper through the harvest sheaves, ' And God not there? When day its banner furls, Come forth our sister planets in their gold. Peeping from 'neath the cloudlets fleecy curls ; Come they from unknown space, regions untrod, ar.'^ No, not a void waste chasm do they fill, For God is there ! Are there sad scenes of death. And farewell partings, by the broad sea shore? Fever and famine's pestilential breath, ,,-, True hearts o'erwhelmed with sorrows care, Fears that the loved may meet oq earth no more, And God not there? Are there dark scenes of crime, And haunts of wickedness and erring deeds t The murderer's resting place ? the robber's time ? For every wild beast hath its secret lair ; Is not lie there from whom all good proceeds? Is not the just God there 7 >t li^'i '\1 >w. ives. rs.-i 7^^.ltel TMK HOLLT BRANCH. Are there assembling men, Who mingle in the temple congregations ; Sweet hymns of praise and anthems swelling then, While one voice human leads the bands to prayer, To look on Him, the Saviour of the nations, And God not there? Are there broad seas that swell Without his mandate who first called their waves? Are there lone captives in their dreary cell, ' And men imprisoned from the sunbeam fair. With they whose armies fill but soldier's graves? With each one God is there! Is there the place of those Who with their sins unwashed have pass'd away— Who, banished far from realms where glory flows, Dwell in the darkness and his wrath they bear ; Whom they despised through life's fast ebbing day Their God frowns there. Is there a pleasant land Whose city hath foundations in tho heavens? Whence are the joys of all that hnppy band. Who the palm branches of their victory bear ? Why are they blest to whom this clime is given f Their God smiles there. k'i 55 THE PATRIARCH'S BLESSING ON THE ALIENS. 'Twas drawing nigh the dreary hour. When they should leave their chosen bower, And changed the home they loved so long, For western shores and dark wave's song; 'i^' » \ 56 THE HOLLY BRANCil. Soon would those fingers cease to twine The rose, the iassaniine, and the vine, And one friend came to bid adieu. To those he never more may view. On him had fallen Time's pure snow, Hoar age was on the Patriarch's brow. Day wore away with sunset's flnme, The dreary hour of parting came, He spoke in accents of deep love, Of joyful scenes in Heaven above: " My son, when in thy priestly dress. Thou break'st the bread of righteousness, Look up to him whose gracious haqd. Stays not with home or household band. " May she wlio all thy woe hath shared, Long to the household band be spared j Remember this, forget not God, Bow meekly at afflictions rod. And when ye're on another' shore. Do, loved ones, as ye have before. May His own presence with ye dwell, ' ' Whom best ye love, one last farewell !" ":' He turned, and each young form lie blessed, And every little one caressed; So through the mourning group he passed, Till one before him was the last : Upon her head his hand he laid. And looking up to heaven ho said : " The God which hath redeemed mc, And led me o'er life's stormy sea, And saved rao midst temptation wild, Tho Covenant Angel bless this child.'* ifY/ wA ai A ha A •'K I? 1} «1 , ■■4 .(Hi W ■Vff ' .'.•u ::-^/M -i*.) ■}. 1^ uii ::;! I -1 L I I V t I TUB IIOLLT BRANCH. 67 hi'iA .(Hi N l4 'Twas over, and the sailor'H bark Soon bore them through the waters dark; And then they marked the stranger's word, Long ere a kindred voice was heard ; Yet on their wild and woodland lot, Came happy days in that rude spot, And summer hours and soft skies fair, The Covenant Angel blessed them there. When came afflictions dreary day, And dark clouds overspread their way, And lovely forms were withering fast, And days of joy and mirth were passed ; They bowed beneath the heavy rod, Thty leant upon their maker, God, «• ' They fainted not when waves rose high. The Covenant Angel still stood by. And now amid another throng, ' Away from woods and wood-dove's song. They dwell with those of other lands, Who wander from their household bauds. And 'mid each scene of joy or fear The Covenant Angel still stands near. The blessings that ♦he Patriarch gave Followed them o'er the crested wave ; They parted — he and those young girls. His words float yet among their curls; And shall \i not to those be given, Who parted thus to meet in Heaven? To see the God their sins once nailed^ The Covenant Angel's face unveiled? ^ •J. ■' f ;'f'vi^ m'^^ii ;:T lil U A MOTHER'S INFLUENCE. 'Twas noontide ! Lo The sun travelled in might ; the flowers, Sleeping, closed their downy eyelids. The glittering Foliage of the unshorn forests rose rejoicing In the brightness. And the sunbeams stooped To drink the fountain's treasure, and mark The violet. There was a home round which The rose-bud had been taught to climb, and The delicate fingers of the vine had clasped The casements. The gentle flowers found a temple ' There to worship, and the myrtle breathed Its ofiering to its Maker. There was one of gentle Human mould, who gave her precious gift to God that hour. A mother knelt to watch her u Sleeping boy; he had returned at noon bringing Wild flowers. With love he strewed them at His mother's feet, and being weary, laid him Down to rest. Then prayed that mother that ij He whose hand tinted those buds, should guard .> [ Her boy; that as they looked up and gathered Bloom from Heaven, so her loved one, trusting On his God, may pass through time, and then Become a saint in glory. I Long years rolled By. The boy went forth amid the city's throng ; The cup of what the world calls happiness was Shown him. He dashed it from his vision, For his mother's strength was his. One brought A wreath of fame to crown him ; he deemed It nothing, for his mother's hand rested upon i THK HOLLT BRANCH. 59 ing whioh iple i i >•- r Ris brow. Crimson robes and velvet raiment Were prepared for him; but he throw over them The snowy mantle of a pilgrim's garb. • ^ Bright halls wero lit for him ; he saw Earth's fairest daughters moving in the dance; He saw the red wine poured, the banquet spread j Ho passed 'mid fashion's sweeping throng, And asked for one, Jesus of Nazareth. And so the boy passed over Time's Broad sea, then at last he came to port, not with Sail riven, not clinging by the crashing masts, or Bearing scraps of broken wreck, but lo ! he glideth Down Death's dark river, and with joy unspeakable Went forth to heaven. - - .-. y O! ye who toll unresting for your Sons and daughters, who mark each billow in Their pathway strewn, who pray unceasingly For those ye love, believe, that God is faithful. And though ye sow with tears of sorrow, trust That ye shall come again laden with rich clusters } And their fruit shall shake like Lebanon. > ij m: ON THE STRANDING OF THE " GREAT BRITAIN." The sun went down among the clouds That hovered round the bark, The cold wind whistled through the shrouds, As eve came dim and dark; ' No moon with her soft tread kept pace, i \ With the tall ship that night : Each silver star had veiled its face, , And hie! ita censor bright, 60 THE HOLLY BRANCH. And ploughing through tho waters* strife, Still through tho heaving spray, That ship like one that fought for life, Held on her rushing way ; When through tho deck's vast length there pour'd, A wail from many a lip, The breakers in their might had roared. Their fury on the ship. The bark that on that morning bright, Left Albion's cherished shore, Lay on RathmuHin's beach at night, The chained bird ceased to soar ; At morn the power of music broke, Upon the noble deck, k. At night each to his comrade spoke. Of terror, woe, and wreck And there her brave commander stood, ' 'Mid ragings of the sea ; Who watches 'mid the stormy flood, So bold, so calm as he? Who stood undaunted in the blast And lulled each risir-^* ?, 'Till the storm-spirit's w .lad passe'd, And Hope's bright star drew near. No fisher's boat ploughed vales and steeps, Amid tho yawning graves ; The iron empress of the deeps, Had struggled with the waves; Her metal walls bore brave-loved forma, And fair, from many a home; Yet each have learnt the wrath of storms, The rock, the wave, the foam. r'd, THB HOLLY BRANCH. 0} waven, that dash your spray abov«{;^'|« The bosom of th« sea, The work of skill, the warmth of love, ^ Are all alike to ye ; What slumbers 'neath your seas of fame! No captives do ye give : Your richest treasure we may claim, • When yo have ceased to live. For there is an arm of power on high, ^ The same untiring hand, That wove tlie meshes of the sky, '^ Curbs in your restless band ; "-^ Go, breakers, to your deep blue holdj ' By'thund'ring tempestdriven ; Te can but roll when ye are told, So do the will of heaven. > oX THE CLOUDED STAR. Palo evening star. Peeping forih from thy dark cloud covered Canopy ; like sparkling gem in the deep darkened Mine. Now thy bright form is hid : now it Bursteth forth like primrose blossom in the Early Spring. Thou dost light the weary traveller Ere yet the queen of night hath risen on Her dreary path. Who hath nerved thee to fret the Broad deep firmament for ages, while those who Gaze upon thy light, are' soon eucircUd in the night Of death 7 AN bo lit thy lamp on high ? He who feeds The raven's nest ^ who givelh garments to the lillies. Petals to ths flowers, down to the butterfly, wisdom Unto kings, and favour to rebellious man. 6 61 I' 6t tHB HOLLT BRANCH. THE DESOLATE FUNEUAL. • Storm oloQcIs are telling Their dreary complaint, Come to thy dwelling, i Come little hifun(; . *f _ No snnshino is thrown, "^ '"'- . ' . Over thy burial, / u-ufV/ The pale snow alone, i ■ ,»r Lights up thy funeral. In the sad dreary loneliness, , ^., „ : .. J Cold winds are scoflBng, iji t^l ,.'j Rude gleams the wilderness, v .,{^.y,,j ,j^). " Rudo as thy coffin. f Softly prera the mendow flower, fT Kneel ! it is the Sabbath Hour, Soldioi*, with thy colours wound 0*er thy hea^, oh battle mound, Ere doth gleam the falchion's fire, Bright as stars in forest dire ; Ere tho hostile cry is heard, Ere is given the signal word. Kneel ! ere sounds the cannon's power, Kneel ! it is tlie Sabbath Hour. Ye who dwell where rich fruits grow, ^ith the sunbeam's warmest glow, While with spicy gales you're fanned, Bow the knee end lift tlie hand \ If no sanctuary nigh, > Greet your vainly searching eye, '■, Kneel amid your myrtle bowor. Kneel! it is tho Sabbatli |Iour. ^^y^ ' Sailor, while thy noble ship .^-y Dares the curl of ocean's lip, While the billows splashing hand Gives its baptism to thy band, Though from toiling helm not free. Traversing the boundless sea, Tet ere skies and tempests lour, Kneel ! it is the Sabbath Hour. Though your organ be the wave, As it beats the pearly cave, '^ f^-^ And ye hear tho billows steep V Calling to th6 valleys deep, ■^..:"^* "«-^.; THE HOLLY BRANCH. 65 And tho bright tho clear blue sea, Echoeth your Litany — Cull from sail and high mast tower, Kneel ! it Is the Sabbath Hour. Stranger, distant from the land, Where doth bow thy household band ? Though your loved ones are not there, Nor your own sky soft and fair ; If yc cannot view the place, Nor ho well known aisle retrace, Nor tho bright avid sunlit flower,— Kneel ! it h the Sabbath Hour. All on whom mo morr iig Btr«:amt, Laden with bright Snb'i .h beams} Ploughman of the fr«!tled wave. Captive, conrut; ir, or slave ; Stranger, all your throng may bo\r At tho altnr, bending low, Blessings rich f^hall on ye shower- Kneel ! it is the Sabbath Hour. i •.J: u'> . *-■- -ff n,iA HAMILTON, THE CITY OF STRANGERS. How many a land do we call our own, Tho coun* "ies which over the depths are thrown ? But few r ^" y stand on the well known spot Where fell thfi first smiles of iheir childhood's lot; Wc conic to throng where of old there stood, Tho spreading maple and tangled wood ; Wo have seen the clitFsJ of the spreading shore, Fade 'mid the rush of the water's roar ; And voices that rose to sad farewell stiains, Were lost 'mid the grating of cable chains. K r Some from dur beautiful Albion isles, a. From the lofty fanes, from the flower's smiles ; >; These — ^from the glittering of olden spires; ' "r Those — from the light of their household fire* f Some from the midst of the City throng. Some, are fresh from the woud-dove's song, Where the holly bush, and the broad oak grows Many are we from the land of the Rose. And many a son of the Thistle green, • ',\ Hath said farewell to each boyish scene ; And dwelleth otill with the stranger's child, Far from the heather and mountain wild. And others from Erin's emerald sod, The shore of a western clime have trod j Still they cherish dreams of their place of birth, Of the shamrock leaf, and the verdant earth. -' ^ And some have come o'er the rolling sea, /. From the gurgling waves of the Chiamsea ; •< They have left the forests of lofty pine. And bid adieu to the rolling Rhine ; And looked their last on the ancient strand^ As it died in the distance — their futherland. And a few from the vine-clothed hills of France, Where the sun is warm in his noontide glance } A few have come from the mountain's brow, Some have sighed for the orange bough j ^ A few, from the fields of growing rice, And the luscious fruits of the groves of spice. Some are called in from the ocean gales. They have cast their anchor and furled their sails ; And changed the dash of the foaming spray. For the calm broad waters of Burlington Bay. V -}! li THE llOhUf BRANCH. e? Thus are we gathered — a stranger band, From the homes of many a distant land ; O! would that at last, when from every coast, Man shall come forth like a thronging host. That we who have dwelt as a foreign throng, May together hear the seraphim's song ,. In a land where the stranger's sadness is o'er, And the dwellers in glory go out no more. rJ' ' ■o >J uU.^i THE BURIAL OF AN INFANT. ■ *-■. ■ Sweet babe, the strife is past, • And now we lay thee low ; For thou shrank'st away 'mid the wrath of the blast, And the dart of the archer's bow ; But the war of the spoiler has ceased at last, ~ ' ; Thou art the wreck of the foe. l O ! thou wert too fair for this dark winter sky, - And the smiles of the angels spake love in thine eye ; And thou watched'st the bright forms of cherubim's bright, Till thy rose check grew pale amid earthly light. ; , . Thine was a dreary way, .- ' To the grave's lonely gloom - "' But a radiance beamed through the feeble clay, ^ -' And lit up the charnel tomb ; ' "f And it marshalled thee on to a land of day, And climes of fadeless bloom. ^ "^ Throngs on that shore were waiting to greet thee. The form of a sister came onward to meet thee ; And they welcomed thee in with a chorus of songs, ^■ And thou mingled with cherub and seraphim throngs. 63 THE HOLLY BRANCH. i'vfir.7^ r^ Time dares to breathe no more On that angelfc band, -^ And the frown of the grave is forever o'er, '^''^ In the light of that holy land : '*'' Death may not glance on that happy shore, And the childfen of its strand. So we lay thy once aching and throbbing head, Far from the light of thy cradle bed — --■^-■^ Yet bright was the dream that gilded thy rest. And sweet is thy sleep on the Saviour's breast. rr M .'. ■ 4 - -Uii 1 - s ^h.": ./ ;o * : '.^ i..-M r-v* :'.fV oAil : nJ ^■: L THE RE-UNION.* " ' " ' " Our first meeting-was in the groves of C~— - ." •' O! banished ones and free, • t • jj. Ye've gathered all once more. From the roaring waves of the splashing sea, To a fair and distant shore. , i) ' Ye met when the moon's soft light, '' Bent down and kissed the wave. The stars of the firmament saw ye stand, The faithful and the brave. M:-^ Ye sang and the tall trees heard, And the bending boughs kept time, And the night-bird's lay was your symphony, In your Island's sunny clime. Voices that blent together, Beneath that dome so fair, Ilavo mingled oft 'neath other skicB, Where the songs we love sang there. •a ilr ■ <( THE HOLLY BRANCH. C9 To prayed, and known forms swept then O'er the memories of thtf past, •■ ^nv^'i i. And thoughts of the gone, the abseni ones, Came round ye thick and fast. Of men of stately mein, ,,, ^.^ , Of children loved and fair, O! kindred wanderers from our land, Were our names whispered there 7 n^f^i And ye parted as we have, In olden days long sped. Tears dimmed your eyes, our brethren then, For the living and the fled. Meet as ye have before r,,. In God's wide temple fair; ', .-^ The orange branch of stranger climes, .., Tell not the traveller prayer. ^^ > -C f- We, too, have learnt to leave jil iUlU The land of our futhers free, ' < '. As we think of you will ye think of us, From the islands of the seat "^ m» ■ N THE TYRIAN'S FAREWELL TO PAUL. **And tbcy all kneeled down on the shore and prayed.'* They had met, and to the sea Still they passed, to billows free ; And from Tyria's ancient halls, Where the soft vine's tendril falls, Woman — with her heaving sigh; Children — with their tearful eye ; \ .1 Men — with bold, and ardent heart| ^Y ' Throhged, from that loved one, to part. * They had gathered on that shore, :^ -Mid the waves' dark rushing roar, On the beach, and by the bay. There that full band knelt to pray. " Lord of Hosts," the prayer was said, ^^ And each wanderer bowed his head : " Lord of Hosts, thy dwellings rare, Are above your sky so fair; , -,} Yet no water, sky, or land, .'{;:, f, , ' Bar thee from this kneeling band. ;-'; Bo thou with us at this hour, 'Tis a parting — come with power ; Help the men who plough the main— Those who wear the galling chain. Chiefly for our stranger friend. With him be till time shall end. > t ,'>W • I Mia '^rt [\ff;;i i;:iX " Yonder lies his nol)le bark, dulth f» *^ nL Help him, Lord, when skies grow dark ; We have heard his voice in prayer, Saviour, ' thou wert with us there.* We have marked its tone in song, Jesus, * thou wert in our throng,' He hath twined around each heart, Thou hast beckoned — now we part. Should the Roman tyrant call This one to his judgment hall. With him be — and at his death, Let thy angels take his breath.'^ rlT Cfk i,:!ir ( .{» !>., . * ^.jii iftlr, -n And the supplication ceased ; .^j,? nmi^>W-' And the weeping still increased ; aji; thihP^ THK IIOLLT BKANOH. 71 And the parting gifts were given, Ci As a pledge to meet in Heaven. Lo ! each loving hand was pressed, And each little one caressed ; Then the tender cord was broken, As the parting word was spoken. Quickly on the heaving deeps, Lo ! the gallant vessel sweeps. And the filling sail is spread, For the last farewell is said. ,.u<- J >r>H* i/C ■ M nil THE LITTLE CHILD. There was a~ spot on nature's breast, DeckM with rich fruits and summer flowers ; The gentle dove built there her nest, ^ ';h Among the blooming rose-hung bowers ; Around the household plenty smiled, ^i Love wreathed her fairest diadem. And Jesus took a little child, .j, And set him in the midst of them. There was a graveyard, tombs were there. And forms were waiting in the clay. Until the break of day-dawn fair. Until the shadows flee away ; There lay the loved to gloom exiled, •» I There lay the shells of many a gem, And Jesus took the little child. And set him in the midst of them. There is a land which Death ne'er Roomed, From thence the king to earth had come, 72 THE HOLLY BRANCH. \ To see how vines ani olives bloomed, f t^h f.ii He fuund a ro;;tayed to h. u- tho little child Jesws set in the midst of them^ Mi ♦ For ever shall that angel band RcBt in the country puvcd with love, The turtle's voice is in the land. In elifFs of rock there dwells the dove ; IlarpS) crowns, and pnlm-branches are piled For daughters of Jerusalem — BlessM each inhabitant, each child, Jesus sets in the midst of them. ^'(> A "S Rj -.^ ;- i \ \ ''■ I Hm one that is bound for the southern sea^ Over the waters my home must be 5 Fve a lay prepared for another land, t And a song to sing on the golden sand ; I'm away to the rush of Marmora's founts, I've a home on the steep of Plamina's mounts ; I go to be saved from the blasting air, I shall rest secure in the branches there ; 1 When the cold winds of winter are chill and lone, If you love me well, you'll be glad I'm gone. But knovvest thou not^ '* There are waves and foam, "' "" Thou wilt have to brave Ere thou seest thy home 7 I taught thee to fly, In the sunbeam's track, "• ' ' I have loved thee, well, , . Songster, come back. ^ Lady, I dread not the curling deep, A love that is stronger than thine doth keep; >' A hand that is firmer than thine doth mark ' .{' My pathway wide 'mid the waters dark ; And shall guide me safe where the mountain flowers, Their incense breathe from the leafy bowers ; I go, to come back when the star-flower waves, 'V When the grass is green on your household graves ; When the bursting fountains rush to the shore, ; , In yon lovely grove we'll meet once more. j r; If ye have loved ones who sigh like me. To burst life's rough chain, to soar, and be free ; If their hearts have been seared by the breakers dread. And the hopes they've cherished are crushed and dead ; Hinder them not, the tempest is high, Cail them not back, they've a fairer sky ; .. > u 7 .5/ 74 THE UOLLT BRANCH. IJke me, they will brave each billowy creit, Like me, they'll inherit a lovelier rest ; Like me, they go to escape the blast; Like me, they'll come back to your heart at last. THE GATHERED THRONG. , All shall meet ^ There. The scattered dust of an innumerable >*' Multitude shall have been gathered by His breath, , Who gave life first. Ah ! in that solemn duy All nations, and all worlds, must pass The test. There will stand all those, the just. The loved of God, and with that holy band shall Be all people who rejected the blest Saviour in this lower world. There will be each one whose Memory has passed away, and by mankind have '-'"'■ Been forgotten. All that unnumbered throng '''> Who ever have, or ever shall fall dead upon the A Field of battle. The ocean waves shall not be Able to retain their treasure; for, before that Just tribunal, there shall be the sailor, though *>.. • Once lost at sea, and all the wrecked. There will stand the savage and The forest child, and those now fettered by The hand of man, many then wearing crowns Triumphant, And little seraph infants, too, '^ Shall join that train. And with the then Delivered prisoners of the sea, the plain, the Grove, shall be those once immured in Papal Dungeons, bound by the hand of those who Then must recognise each just accuser. ^ THE HOLLY BRANCH. 75 And secrets dark, mysterious, Strange and wonderful, shall then be brought To light. And things, the threads of which have Dropped and part kept back, shall be received And finished. And wonderful discoveries, and Sudden disappearances, shall then be accounted For. And all the dead, both smaU And great, shall bow 'fore Him, who only was Found worthy to take the book and Loose the seals. And whosoever's name is Not enrolled in that blest volume, Death, j; ^ Eternal Death, must be their portion. O ! Saviour, grant that when We bow among that multitude, we may Stand secure, and through thy efficacious Blood, share peace and joy for ever. ?» '. , V SONG AT SUNSET. Bright and lovely art Thou cloudless setting sun. Sweet folds of glory Hover o'er thy azure couch, and zephyr whispers Sing thy rest. Rapturous and holy thoughts Steal o'er us, when we view thee in thy golden Cradle sleeping. It would seem as if some Angel minister had dipped the fingers Of his curtaining wing in a fount of pearly Beauty ; and, passing o'er thy form, had Left the impress of the radiance which Surrounds the land where suns and moons Are sought no longer. /•r hi:i' IN 76 THB HOLLY BRANOII. That land where all the blc^Ht Ever liflten to the melody of that voice whose Faintest sound exceedeth all the music of Many and deep woters. And ever view the Beaming of that heavenly countenance, whose Single glunco enshrouded in thy form, no human Being may look upon, and gaze again on Mortal scenes. , H T N O Oh ! if the base of Earth's fair canopy is thus so beautified; if We may not glance upon the bright sun's Chariot wheels;- if we cannot look on night*s Star-spangled banner, and count its golden Threads ; if we know not how the pearls Of glory have weaved themstlves among the Meshes of the firmament; if we cannot •-. Join that mystic force which looseneth The canvass of the queen of night, and Biddeth her sail onward through her Azure sea. Oh ! if the strong man's reason Fuileth at the task. If our mortal senses Shudder at the footstool of Jehovah, How shall we bear the radiance of His Throne ? We will look up to Calvary, and ; ' The crimson streams which flow from there, d j Shading softly with the hues of heaven, shall Aid our vision. And know, doud^mantled Orb, when thou art shuddering with the gasping Of creation, we bhall, through the mercy of our God, gaze on thee, npt as now, not with thrills Of awe, but look upon thee as the sudden Disappearance of a meteor ; and we shall ■Ai T r%j.»* «^t i/v ^/ao-l'tJi-r* •-« -it- THE HOLLT BRANCH. 77 Heed no more the folding of thy eye-lido, or The crashing of thy vast machinery, than No\v we tremble at the wafting of a feather, Or falling of a leaflet. CHURCH-YARD ROSES. •J I •ft' We bring ye, each sweet flower, '» Not from an ancient bower ; . " Not from the homo where soft-haired children play ; - But from a gathered group of quiet ones, Where the sad mourner bendeth uown to pray. From the last boon which earth can give her sons, And from a dwelling dread, , Among the dead. Yet balmy is your breath ; . ., Ye do not speak of death. With your soft and crimson cheek still prest; Where the bier Vested, your sweet leaves are bright ; Ye do not look as if ye made your rest With dread corruption, and the gloom of night ; Sweet and refined the bloom From oft" the tomb. Roses, the red, and sweet, For bridal garlands meet. Ye warm the soul with your bright hues all glowing. Your tender bwuiches we with joy throw o'er us, Ye meet with streams of love in pure hearts flowing : Ye speak of hopes — the bright and glorioiu. Your rich and crimson leaf Tells not of grief. 78 TIIR HOLLY mANOH. Roses, the pale ai^d white, t r Do' not ye say this night, That though death*s paleness settle on yonr brow. There is a beauty no man's hand hath mode ) And despite of the archer's fatal blow. Yet still shall bloom the glory on ye laid 7 - , Te are nil fresh and glad, 'Mid dwellings sad. Are ye not all tongues Telling of lonely ones ? Would that all those your fresh boughs cover Were resting in the glorious hope to come ; • > That when the world shall its last end discover, Their dust shall join the soul in Heaven, its home, — Ye would be dearer then, Ye loved of men. But surely th Fairer than ye they bloom ' Beyond the tomb. THE MARTYR IN PRISON. When the vine-dresser gathers his clusters sweet. And the sunbeam shall drop in the fount at his feet \ When the reaper shall bind up the russet grain, And the bark doth return from the dancing main ; While the stars of Autumn are bright on the sea, The lot of the captive *s the lot for me. THB HOLLT IRANCH. 79 When the snow shall descend in its fleecy white, J And the frost king breathes on the breeze of night ; When the sound of loved voices sweep merrily past, As the traveller heedeth not tempest or blast ; And earth's children arc gathering round hear ths warm and free, The cold cell of a prison is still for mo. When the bounding Spring in its joy is nigh, And spotless the robe of the summer sky ; And the soft and delicate flowers shall bloom, As of old they were wont round my mother's home ) And the flowing of waters is fast and free, This dreary spot is the dwelling for mo. ■•<: ' •. ! Shall it ever be so, must I always lie. The darling forsaken, and left to die ; My casement the grate of a prison wall, And the dungeon stone for the first-born's hall; The bed of straw for the couch of the free, Shall this be the last lot prepared for me 7 When the friend that men call their fell-foe, Death, Shall waft from this prison my last drawn breath ; When my pulse shall be calm as the frozen rill. The pale cheek of the prisoner grow paler still ; While the world rolls on, and heedeth me not, The lot of the angel shall then be my lot. I would fain look out where the sea has rolled| , h^, And feel the cool splash of the waters cold ; ■ . ., I should like to lie 'neath the green tree's shade, . ^ ,' And gaze on the flowers before they fade ; But the dawn of that day I never may see, For the captive's death is the death for me. 80 THE HOLLY BRANCH. But rny dwelling is far in another clime, I shall go to my rest in no distant timo ; The sun that beams there is ever bright, The land has no shade of cheerless night ; Blest is the land where the captives are free, 'Tis the home of the holy — the home for me. >/ NO MORE SEA. The sails were rent, the ship went down. And brave hearts failed that hour 5 They lie beneath the tempest's frown, Or in the coral bower ; For heavily bowed down the mast, As falls the stately tree : Rest, ye that to the winds are cast, ■ There shall be no more sea. A mother watclied her sleeping child, Calm in his cradle dreams, He woke to hear the tempest wild. And list the rushing streams ; Yet that fair babe shall come again, A gentle flower free, A rosebud moistened with bright rain. When there is no more sea. Brethren and sisters, side by side, Together viewed the storm. Till fiercer rose the heaving tide, '- ' And bore away each form ; Those severed loving ones have flown, ^ To glory full and free, "Where dwe!!iiig round their Saviour's throne, There shall be no more sea. Our Oft The Gloi By 1 Wir t . THB UOLLT BRANCH. 81 Ye who beneath the jewelled tombs Of coral rocks iileep sweetly, And long have made your hidden graves Where the bright surf curls deeply; Not always shall we mourn your doom, ' Or sadly think on ye, The winds that cross a land of bloom, ~ Whisper " there's no more sea." Your sepulchres may not bo made Upon the emerald turf, - ' Where in your early hours ye played, But in the rolling surf ; Ye may not lie on hill or lawn, Or on the sunlit lea, ' . But, lo ! a glorious morn shall dawn, There shall be no more sea. When mountains vast shall quake with dread, And far the hills be sent, And the proud billow bow its head, And the blue wave be rent 5 Ye that unmoved can bear these hours, IIovv bright ye then shall be, Where in a fairer land than ours. There shall bo no more cea. . > " THY WILL BE DONE." Our Father who in heaven art encircled by the light Of thine own glory beautifbl, so gorgeously bright ; The angel and archangel hosts continually do cry. Glory to thee our mighty God, who reigneth gloriously ! By these whose voices swelled in song when earth her toil begun, Winged worshippers who keep thy gates, by these thy will be done, tl 82 TUB HOLLY BRANCH. By golden lamps that hang on high, a girdle for the moon, By scorching rjiys of summer suns that clearly beam at noon ; By gentle hours, when the light earth's busy children waken, By thund'ring tempest hurrying past when the tall cliffs are shaken; In frost or snow by things which move beneath the glittering sun, By gushing waters, verdant lands, by all, " Thy will be done." By spots of this cloud-covered earth, where'er man's voice is heard, By dear affection's gentle power, by many a soothing word ; Whether by loved ones going forth to their dark coffin home, Whether by cherished beings met across the ocean's foam 5 Whether by nations coming forth to see the red field won, By captives in captivity ; by all, "Thy will be done." By scorching fever's sickening blast, or pestilential breath. By joyful meetings round the hearth, or sad and woeful death 5 By unrequited loves and thoughts, words that true heart's have broken, By joyful words to mourning hearts, softly and kindly spoken ; By lonely watchings of the wave, when night-veiled is the sun, By mountain dwellers, forest bands, by all, " Thy will be done." Our Father who in heaven art, encircled by the light Of thine own glory beautiful, so gorgeously bright ; Help us with them in worlds of bliss continually to cry, " Glory to thee our mighty God, who reigneth gloriously." Wherever be our pathway marked, help us our race to run, In full reliance on thy word, saving, "Thy will be done." THE LONELY ONE'S REMEMBRANCES. And this must be my country — this my home, For the sons of this fair island freedom love } O ! my own birth-place o'er the ocean foam, How distant now from thee do I remove ? . . I. "K- iO Turn For Metli In p ! THE HOLLT BRANCH. 83 ?> sun. How deep the struggle which rent us apart ? . ; It broke each tender tie that bound my heart; To home and country heaven's own message came That home should not be mine, yet I looked not Upon the message bearer, for there was a name Of honor that I loved too well to yield my lot. Then, O! there came a darker messenger, " ; ■ And on his forehead there was written Death, He grasped my only boy, my one so fair. And heavily the child drew his last breath ; His brow grew cold as ice upon the mountain. For the golden pitcher perished at the fountain. Again the fearful messenger drew nigh, Till all I loved were in their graves ; then I Turned for awhile to weep among my blooming flowers, For stronger still I clung to my untrodden bowers. I knew I had given principles for fame, I knew that wrongly I had bent the knee Before that altar fair ; though of gentle frame, One bid me look alone on Calvary ; Now she was gone, 'twas just and I would go, To distant lands where other streamlets flow ; Methought that perhaps my bleeding heart at last may stay In peace, if now I followed where Heaven marked my way. Yet these were but phantoms, I could not go And leave that castle, turret, tower, and hall, I would not leave the chesnut's spreading shade. And list no more the fountain's cheerful fall, And rose-charged breathings of the citron glade, I said I would not leave it — but lo ! While yet I spake, a fearful earthquake came, I saw the olives bending low, I viewed , The trembling cedars, 'mid the sunbeam's flame, And the woods werti folded to the sea-beach rude, f ir '!i li: I grew passionate amid the whirlwind's sigh, *; , It had no Avords of calmness, loud was its oryj And deep dark was the struggle of my soul, As I watched the rivers onward roll ; Then I turned from the scene unto my rest, Not as I was wont to do — there came No sound of voices calling on my name, No glance of gentle faces toward my anguished breast ; So I wrapped my mantle round me, and I passed the arch, As a prisoner to his dreary cell, sorrowing, would march. But I went forth again, there was no storm. It was the sunset of a summer's bloom, I passed and breathed upon the myrtle's form. My tears fell hot upon it ; 'twas a tomb ; Rich for them, for one hand chill in death. Had rested on that blossom. I passed by That garden. I felt the lime trees' breath, • .^ And saw the river, and the crimson sky. And I saw the glorious sweep of sunbeams Circling that river ; gilding all its streams With rays of glory ; and I knelt on its bank Watching the scenery, till my lone heart sank. Far, far, within me ; I would have slept to death, For sorrow's chain was drawn round me, it left Such wounds, that it defied the balmy breath Of lovely nature to restore my peace, and I, Wearied with hfe, would have lain down to die, " It was my boyhood's scene, my home, my all, ., -v Upon that river I had sailed when young, , And called the climbing vines my banquet hall, ^ -. - My light the golden sunshine on the bright leaves hung : And by those waters I had watched the moon „, ,. Rise in its glory, in its light of gold, -it -xr -.,-* TBB HOLLY BKANCH. 85 ir hung : ■'J. He was with me then, whone bones there lay strewn Amid the ruthless Iiiquisitibn's hcdd ; And often I hud watched the smile of night, With her whose form had glided from my sight. And long I looked upon the setting sun, And felt the breathing of the gentle myrrh ; The warblers rested , for their task was done, And sweetly chaunted'mid the emerald fir} So my soul rose with the thin air to heaven. And to my heart was hope and comfort given ; For I searched the glorious pages of my hidden guide: I saw that Holy One, who died to save, Spake joy to the mourner, freedom to the slave, The sweet truth flashed O^et me, Hope I espied. I grasped the meteor ; I bathed in its soft light, I had drank these founts before, my cell Grew lighter, and amid the t'jadiance bright Of that strange evening, I could bid farewell To that loved spot, my hearth, my home, my hall, My dustring vines, my bloomin,? cherished flowers, My loved one's graves, the rock, the river's fall. Thus rent the chain, that bound me to those bowers ; But dire was the severing ; my cheek grew pale, And well I weened life's gushing founts would fail But I was yet to live, and though bright seas, Roll in their splendour 'twixt that land and Die, Tet still the quiet grandeur of the mighty trees, ■ Forest and sunlight, towers, and beaming sea ; ' < These now steal o'er me with such rush of woej No eye of mortality may see or know ; And I wait calmly 'mid Earth's busy train. Waiting for Death, dark messenger, to come Agaih ; For oilt the unyielding oak would give its breath, E'en to a zephyr^s care might it but bring its death. 8 iiit I ■ if .iiU i: ! nAl 86 TBS HOLLSr BftANGH. ■f. Thott, gracious Providence 1 I Uess thy hand, Which cast my 4ot upon this better land y > !. ^ i -i'. And b.>othed my soul, knowing, when time is oYer^ • > I shall ir<;et those Pve loved upon a brighter shores! ' > '• We^tiness shall come no more ii^, happy heaven|> ,, , ;,,,/. And to its dwelling fair is pure bliss givea. . ,f..-v {^,j/ . . . , . . , ' fi< hnk , tJ «j(ll jfiiv^ -jAmT |»j'i; ■f ;rilii i iivv/ l»:'/ I ;!)■ ■' We on the deck were stood ; When^' Some daiJc object 'mid the wast^^ of waters Met our gaze. The boatsr were lowered. ' It was a portion of some galldnt bark, Once sailing on the mighty sea as we were' Then. We looked upon the stricken innst, We thought of those who once had triivelled In the ship, of which the shattered wreck <> Before us formed a park Doubtless th^y slipt >-t<> i Beneath the wavei.., , ;* • i/o !: ia n ^t »»>«orfT Again we thought were they prepared ,^ t y^ . To die; how many of that vessel's crew, with .f^-fi^^^^r Holy calmness, met their God, their Judge; their ^-j Saviour and Redeemer ; if they loved his name, ^ ^^.. , I Mi ii.n Ur •i-HiS IIOI.Z.T BltANCH. 87 And did his n^ill ? O ! whd of -these wKeti tHetiih Was near, and vast eternity was nigh, could Look unmoved upon the blast, and though AfFection's tear was dropped for friends oa Either distaiH shore, could calmly say, ^^ " E'en so, O ! Father," and have nought to Do but wait for death. Again, our Thoughts turned home. ! vrft ih ■nn ■sir :j i.> .-('. We thought how we perhaps soon may lie In an ocean bed, With the billow splashing mournfully Above each head ; And some rock be made our lowly graves, Our requiem sang by the roaring waves, And thus sleep on till the oceau caves Give up their dead. We prayed, if it should be our doom, 'Neath the wave to rest. Our spirits might soar beyond the tomb Of ocean's breast ; Might join that bright angelic choir, With golden harp and tuneful lyre. And to angelic notes aspire, Among the blest. Aij j.t'.. r;i_>' JAjVi »< 'II A (• *T cf'^i- /li nit, lb' nvii REST. yi Slave, away in the darkened mine. Trampling the e^rth where gold rays shine j Decking the form of the Torquinese, \ Resting awhile 'neath the mulberry trees ; Thine eye hiith the glancfe of One oppressed, Thou hast found the gold, liath i1 given thele^ ?est't i] ; 1 ., II 88 TUK HOLLT BKAMOH. I J! i \ i Sovereign, who speaka, and tby will is done, , fi,.f. With thy raiment the hue of the sinking sun; At thy footstool the proud of earth^s children bow, But the smile is transient that lights thy brow ; The canker worm feeds at thy troubled breast, ' i Thou hast worn the crown, hath it given thee rest ? Conqueror bold, of the battle field, Firm in the strength of thy well-wrought shield ; Thou hast wandered far from thy native land. And come back, but where is thy household band ; Silent and still, thou hast gained the crest. And a bleeding heart, hath it given thee rest ? \ Student, alone with the hours untold, "* Freely conversing with sages old; '* ; Travelling far amid forest and camp, Thou art pale by the light of thy midnight lamp ; And thy hand to that throbbing head is press'd. Thou hast gained the prize, hath it given thee rest ? rir i.' if >f!i ; f.f Te who oft in this world of strife, Slake your thirst in the streams of life; Who with One, to Golgotha's gloom hath strayed, With One on Olivet^s mount hath prayed ; Leaning in p' ice on your Saviour's breast, ;i Ye have borne the cross, it has given ye rest. Ye who have triumphed o'er sin and death, Unshrinkingly yielded your striken breath ; Unfainting ye in the land of graves, Undismayed iu the swelling of Jordan waves ; Ye whom we mortals call the blest, Ye have gained the crown, it hath given ye rest.^ Angels, whom trouble can ne'er annoy,, otm ' ftnftfT Sons of the morning, and heirs of joy ; i ^i^^i ao&T ! 1 THK HOLLT BRANOR. 89 Hastening away in yonr heaven-sent duty, Staying to glance at the King in his beauty ; Yours is the noontide made manifest, And the smile of God, it hath given ye rest. i': TO THE BIRDi UP'' • r Onward pass on in your boundless flight, 'Neath the shadowy fiky, and the sunbeam bright ; Kissing the cloud as it drops the rain, Touching llie wall of the rainbow's fane; / With your sails unfurled, and lyres strung, ! Ye'rc away V/here stars in their light are hung; Or for lands that are strango, where flowers spring, Yo have plumed the down, and spread the wing. We lay the strength of the forest down, Wc wear the robe and the glittering crown ; "We tread down kings in our stormy path. And voices fail at our gathered wrath; We touch and the humming ceases to pour, -" From the serpent's hiss, to the lion's tread ; But we may not tread in the paths ye trod. Though children of men and sons of God. Ye haste, ye haste, but ye bring not back, >, To our waiting spirits the words we lack; ^-^ Ye cannot say what it is to feel, - tdi >ii ■m^.^i^- The snow-capped home of the thunder peal ; Ye do not speak of the worlds above, ^ .' Yo tell us not of the things we love; ' Of the measureless height of the sunbeam's roof, Which ye touch in your travels — terror proof. ^ Ye are strange in your radUiiice— wonderful, " * Ye are soft in yoar plumnge— ^beautiful ; - ' Ye are boM to bask in t]ie clouds of ^ven, Ye are frofi ia your flight to the floor of Heaven ; To deck ye, the form of the green trees bend, And the delicate hues of the violets blend : "While, like golden stars in the roses' wreath, Ye are seen where the manchineel soweth death. And ye who thus soar to the moonbeam's breast, On this shadowy earth still find a rest ; Tike the manna gone when the sun was seen, So yo leave no mark where your steps have been ; Like the dew that over the flowers spring. Like the billow rolled over Egypt's King -, ■, r Ye leave no track in the misty air, But your pleasures, your dwelling, your all is there. ?^;-' !.,4**, , THE UNCEASING SONGS. . Mother, the songs of the birds are dear In the scented bough ; Their tones are full, each lay is clear As the summer's brow ; Yet soon no more the sweet song saileth, Soon the sound of the harp-string faileth ; Soon is the warbler hushed in the field. Soon is the note of their music sealed. And to Death they bow. And, mother, the sound of waters are sweet, . As they onward rush ] They for the spring-time are coronals meet In day's last flush ; .7 TIIB MOLL? BRANCH. 91 0. Yet ere long th« winter king husheth each tono, With the ioo'wrouglit chain of the frozen xone j They sleep in peace all the dreary day, i I' And they give us no more the sparkling spray Of their joyous gush. .. «,. .... Mother, do loved voices al«rays fiuli mi} Uu.K And Aongs grow low ? .:> .~a^ > For man's voice is still, and the babe is ^h. And cold its brow, 5'e dance of the streamlet ever ceaic ? le chant of the singer be hushed in peace? .'^liuil tiie eye of the infant be always dim ? Can man's voice sound n6 more in a joyful hymn ? Is it always so ? .; > f « My boy, there's a land of eternal Spring . ' ' Above the sky ; '. Where songs are unbroken and angels sing But never die; '''[ From that land whose glory in rapture burneth. No one who hath left us ever returneth ; For our eye would wane at the glory beams, Our heart would fail at the glowing dreams, :■■■ ' Of that world on high. " . Death may gnaw at his galling chain. And pace his lair ; }, Time may foam at the iron rein, ; ; , But he breathes not there ; \i. The sepulchre may yell o'er the earthly sod, Whence the soul went forth in the power of God ; The tomb may seek for his stolen prey. But he entereth not on those olimes of day, Where all is fair. ..,^^^,^^^: I' ! f atriikroba| woods, which ag^ long have stood. 94 TBAJMLIiY Bft&aon. ItwatoheS'by a^iotioa*a coaol^, night ifottft^iilg dnMU!y> night, And asks not fpr the f est that pomes with !t|ie vanishing o£ light} * And bearing all waOiPmbered gviefs, mM ,hea«.tif«l and pute-TT 'Tis Love's prerogative to weep, and still Mdufe^ endUre, ^1i^^•^tl ■> Love is the brightest,- riehett g6m, With which thd world is stored — It welcomes in the lonely one to the kinsman's joyous board: It cheers the widow's suffering heart, and quells the orphan's gcief ; For Love ia to the sorrowing one, what rain is to the leaf. To it we owe the blessings pure of social glee and inii'th ; 'Tis Love th^t gives the light of joy to each domestio hearth ; Fresh as the bloom of coming spring, it fades not, grows not old ; , 'Tis heaven's own alchemy that turns.the flinty stone to gold.- • iu m What brought the world's Redeemer down from glitt'ring thrones on high. Why came He as a sojourner, and laid His honors by ? No wreathing flowers of smiling peace caine round His head to twine ; None of the people staid by Him— ;lone" treader pfthe^ne j" Not slackening Orion's bands ; not gilt with mjcuiy a star ) But a stranger low and sorrowing, so came he from afar; One motive only brought Him down from holy worlds above. And for the battle made him strong — that principle was Love. Now, in the glorious land of heaven, the loving Son is there. And often, at His Father's throne, breatliesibrtk this pleading prayer^ " Father, I will that those I love, in g^ory soo^ ^ay be, - ^ • And one in our Unity, as I am One with'Ti '•''"' '^^ ■ ' Then do resoundingshottte pour forth, fi on? those oelestiM wardens j While heavenly harmony is heard th^Oagh^thei eternal gardens. ' - We shall not always gather here, ok we are g&ther'd now, All iti onie bond of bmitV-^nc in affection's Vow.' '" ■' The day* of separation ioo^^s— ;th6 itilght o^ drath ^i'aW nig^*^/ ' Hush'd must be eveit^ beating puilseVblosed^vcii^'beknim^ e^e ; .1 V,i.\ ■A>^A ', n /! TOf ^9Lu^ M^AMon. «5 And Bolemn- tliouglif the thottght may be } yet w||Oiimongf his train Shall re-aasemble here ? O ! God, when shall we meet again 7 If we greet each other not on earth, yet, ma world above, May all who are with ub this night meet in that land ofXove. Mil: fnyny. •jiil •ivl l»i We speak of glorious worlds of light, and blissful regions fair. And bright winged worshipjpters that now are chanting music there ; But 'twixt us and tliatbetterlapd, a dreary sea doth gleam — What shall support us when our feet touch its dark rolling stream ? Fame starts away from those strange shapes, that by those waves have stood. And Science and her classic sons, shrink from that brotherhood ; " His rod and staff shall comfort us," who came from <(fr6flds above, " To save us in His pity, and redeem us* in His Loye^"- U ,ii'^"..: And every strange discordatit sdiittd'be^^dfigted to ta6tes of peace — Music shall reach its blissful .height, in thriUing joyous strains ; Hope, sure and steadfast, shall rejoice, when a ■' : T — i' ' ■■ ' ' . ^ »rr •M M , .^rtiLi'jin; • -:(■:■. tut HOLLt wMJMeti. THB vheemason's burial at sea. We bariecl the Milor brave^ '.,,,, Bat hif brothen 1^004 POt there, For the roaring ocean wild' Heard the dying Maion'e prayer. No jSowers of radiant hue Were there for thift sleeping formji Ko evergreen fresh and bright Shone there 'mid the ocean storm. •f Mi HJiff'iti^ht. 5>-" 'Twas the hour of sunset bright, f •*> When the words came hcavy^ and dread-* > *' Ere comes o'er us Uie darkness d night, \k>i m' Every hand to. bury the dead ;"> <.j i xi ?i: ovjqa o'l And soon with a heaving sighj And love's £ut tailing tear, Every sorrowing messmate drew To. their comrade's lonely bier. . The waves in theitr might may dish, And the sea roll heavily on ; ~ Or the evening breeze play Ughtly ' : .: The curling waves upon; '- ' ' But calmly that one sleeps. Peacefully he reposes, ' As though his quiet grave ' ' Was made with summer roses. ''■ "" The lamps in the lodgeroom may gleam. And kind be the friendly greeting ;,r .,,. ^ut when will that absent sleeper, ;. Be one in that evening mee^ng t True hearts may g?eet each other. The pass-word be softly spoken, But when shall that distant brother Awake from a sleep unbroken t JbMf* t^w ',v <«And^ THE BOLLT BKAMOH. 97 O ye, of hifl brotherhood cheer, Te ihall meet that brother agab, But not as ye mw him last, Bre he wen^t to the rolling midn ; In a land where rest is given, In a country £» above, On the glorious shore of- Heaven, That clime of Eternal Love. THE LAST HYMN. ** And when they had lung a hymn, they went forth to the Mount of Olivet." There was a sound of melody. And voices raised a holy song; They were not of the revelry, They were not of the world's gay throng ; No ; sadness from their eyelids spring, Each countenance was wreathed with gloom : It was the last song they would sing Together, in that upper room. Who sang those notes ? The lowly band That spread their nets among the waves. Where are they ? In a distant land, , Where Death, the spmler, no more craves. Who sang those notes? He was not there. Whose eyes had marked the scraps of gold ; He left them to their evening prayer, He dared not stay the dinner bold. 9 in >m BOLLt numiL And He wm tbeire, who 'MWlrd etita*, A rbot from dry afld ptflrohlDg ghmuil, The Prince of PeMe, the One ble«t naM«, In thlat leqtietttA'cd robtti irtm fotind ; tie led each 'sweet eetaphto ttfkM, He taned each votM t6 MeeMi iaMi When rfiall we hettr tndh mmidii agtiin t * O! Calvary's ll1l^Rfr6^—BdhllAlete^l ohUdt Thou who cam'st down with garments white. With heaven-wove robes of pnrest ray, Who bore thee through dark sorrow's night, When God's jiist wrath upon thee hiy ; For us on thee sad trials blent. Was ever sorrow like to thine, When then thy head in anguish bent, ' ^ » lonely treader of the vine T Tet thy own voice was heard again. When thou badst burst the sealed ston^ And rent the hard and massive chain Of rock that o*er thee had been thrown ; And thou wilt visit earth's lone graviea, Not tmling with the fisher's net, Not by soft Kedron's flowing w(^ves. Not weeping on Mount Olivet. Thy voice will lead thy tribin to dng, To Zion shall thy loved return, They with aiiigello notes shall ring, the songs wlirch «ng«ls may nclt leAhi ; Thbtt didst redeirtn ttsWhen we stood. In woi-lds of sin and cottntriiis wild, And cleansed nb in thy oWn pArie btitfod, O! Calvary's suifere^— l3«d^<^ei»^ elkd. > ram boixt bkanck. 9flt OX THE PBATH OP AN INFANT. > AAd thou art fled from , Esrta, fair child, an4 tby young spirit dwells in dimes O.' bliss miknown, b£l«i inaooeijsi^e to^ flesh-olad mortality. 7^011 hast Iwelt. long enough on earth to Leave a vacunuy with those irho love thee. The glorious Architect of Heaven looked forth onthee, and saw That thou wert ready fweed branches gracefuny, Soften the crystal light { . Where treasures in the deep ar« hid. And oojean flowetbt. Are paths the vulture hath not: seen, And no fowl knoweth.' Far distant from the haunts of men, Where sunbeams never rolled, Unmarked in quiet cells they lie. The diamond and the gold ) The ruby gem in radiant bright. Like bright eyes gloweth, O'er paths the vulture hath not seen. And no fowl knoweth. .. /. Are there not tracks of science rare In their meanderings strange, As field on field of mysteries. Greet those who o'er them range? Enlightened minds of human mould, Rich knowledge soweA, O'er paths the vulture hath not seen. And no fowl knoweth. We joy that there are gentle ones, With whom Love's voice is heard, Who cherish human sympathy. And give the kindly word ; TUB AT, TUB BOIXT BKAMOB. 101 TheM find, m life's drear path they trace, That pure joy floweth O'er pathe the ynltnre hath not seen. And no fowl knoweth. Are there not hours when we who lore The bright and Morning Star, Hear, as it were, his gentle voloe Calling vs from afar f The world and its rough strife grows dim, Peace gently floweth. O'er paths the vnlture hath not seen, And no fowl knoweth. There is a country, who shall tell The radiance of that clime ; A temple whose fair form remains Undimmed by woes of time ? The good are there, the beautiful. The cherub goeth O'er paths the vulture hath not seen, And no fowl knoweth. There, loye iti one, undying flame. Onward and unward flieth ; There blight and grief shall never mar The bloom which never dieth. The holy calm of trust well placed, For ever floweth. O'er paths the vulture hath not seen, And no fowl knoweth. THft MOTHER'S REQUEST. - There they had met, That group of mothers. They had eet their Faoef toward Zion, and 'mid the balmy Ether, wreatled with the Angel of the CoTenont. Long time they aooght Heaven's richest Blessings; they, those gentle ones, drew neir Qod's Throne, pleading His promisea. Then yet more earnestly they Sought protection rich, and fbll, for him "Whose roaming footstep trod the billow ; For that loved one was an alien from his Country and his God. There was his mother. Oft When darkness hovered over her boy's eradle, She had linelt beside him then to pray ; but Now the watcher bowed- her head, beseeching That the bitter cup mig1it,-yet undrained, Pass onward. Sad was her loneliness. She Thought of him who, in past days, had Been her son's companion. Now Ins gentle Bride was numbered with their i\o]y Throng, as they with one accord, nnd Hallowed feelings, brought the wanderer On the unlingering arms of faith Before the mercy seat Therw Was an hallowed dome, and many . A heart rose up to Heaven that hour. Ji eat >u There kn«U that brad of mothen, And with them many another one who Bore the name of Jetne, They met Around the uoramental table ; they Took the bread and wine 'mid thoughts Of bleat Qethaamene. And there wos one with Them ; the heedleea wanderer had been gathered To that fold. He had found shelter in the Rock of Agei; and set his face toward Zion. For there had been a whirlwind— but the Mariner let it pass unheeded. There had Been a tempest — but his dauntless heart shrank Not before it. The lurid fire of Sinai gleamed Before him — he smiled upon its horrors, And scorned its glaring. But there Came a still small Toioe which whispered^ *' LoTest thou still my son 7*' — and lo ! the Sailor bowed before that glorious speaker. And now, while tliose bright Eyes were humbly bent 'fore that communi<», Did not the thankful breathings of those Kneeling mothers then return to Heaven, . Bearing one golden sheaf in blest and Hallowed triumph t And did not then The angelic host lock down, and louder Swell their anthem to the untold love Of Him who died to save the ruined ? 104 THK HOLLT BKANOB. THBJ JUDGMENT OF THE WICKED. *< These shall go away into ererlaating punishment.*' Lo! the ArdiangePa trumpet hath swept o'er the sea, To give up its dead retires the dark wave; They are called from the mountain, the plain, and the lea, The sinner hath passed from his cold earthly grave. Affrighted the nation ; who hung on the tree, The Saviour of peace who with anguish did bow ; With a throb new and strange they beheld it is He, By the print in the hand, by the scar on the brow. Warm in their hearts the life-blood is flowing, The glance of their eyes is dark and bewildering ; On their hearts the word like a fire is glowing, " His blood rest on us — its weight on our children." From the dark holds of Rome — from the dungeons of Spain, The inquisitors stand malicious and fierce ; The prisoner, the martyr, hath met once again. And woke to remembrance the gag and the pierce. With deep scorn on his brow the murderer is there, He crouches behind at the sight of his prey ; The body he mangled hath risen all fair. As the dawn of the morning or farewell of day. The reveller kneels — but no mercy yet gleams, Dark myrmidons bear him along their dark way ; Where the fruit of the wme-press and soft gushing stream Are vanished as snow at the summer sun's ray. Not last in the train stands the holder of slaves, The whip and the chain are now torn from his hand; They bear him, but not where the soft plantain waves, He sees not the sky of his sweet myrtle land. In Th Th Th At Th THK BOLLT BKANOH. 105 elea, In vain do they call on tbe mountain and rook To fall, and to hide from the face on the throne ; They are answered al^ne by the earth's banting shock, Like a bird that is freed — ^lo ! the waters are flown. The earth that was green, and the sky that was bluoi Backward the wheels of their chariot have rolled ; The bright flame hath withered each glittering hue^ And chaos hath swallowed the bright and the bold. And all the rejectors are then gathered there, From the wave of the sea, from the thronged city bright; Their last, irrevocable, sad doom to bear, The frown of Jehovah ; the dar tness of J^ht, }i Spam, le. stream and; THE PRIESTLESS BAND. The priestless band went up to pray, The balmy breeze blew by, Charged with sweet odours from each spray, Under the sunbeams eye ; They passed beneath the chesnut tree, And through the orange bower, • * They saw the beaming of the sea, Tbe budding of the flower. They reached the temple's lofty spire, And long and deeply prayed, They had seen their champion expire, And in his glory fode ; He found them oflbring incensed wine, To deep carved idols there; He left them kneeling at the shrine Of Calvary, in prayei*. An ardent glow was in bit eye, M%nl(ind he sought to save, He wasted 'neath the cloudless sky. And he was in the grave ; , The little flock were left as sheep, , ' Without a shepherd's voice j^ Like sail upon tlie raging deep, When the storm-birds rejoice. And now, no shrieking rent the mv, They gazed upon his sod, A solemn stillness brooded where Map pleaded with his God; The sweeping wave rolled hoarsely past, And beat the jewel strand. Upon its boon no look they cast. To Heaven they lift their hand. They sought not wealth nor fairer realm, Nor kingly robe nor crown ; They did not wish to rule the helm Of nations in renown ; They asked alone if Heaven would grant. Over the waters sped, A bark upon their shore should plant, A teacher like the dead. O! ye who dwell where gospel light Is scattered far and wide. Give to the kiqgdoins of the njghit,,^^. The gift, the blessed guide.; Gjran^ V> those bound by ocean's foam, The blessing to ye givep, Till peaoe in each heart ^nda a home, And guides it« boon to Heaveq. , L_. TBi B6LtT nukHtn. 107 DE . H'S DESTROTBR. *^ TIM bwl enemy to be destroyed it Death.** Death shall be riatn : how Many foes hath man ? Beneath the verdant tntf The viper lurks ; the forest^s wild beast hath His lailr ; the breeze breathes pestOencB. ■ i Hark ! loud and boisterous is the Roll of waters! Were ye not listening 7 'Twas the Sailor's cry. Save him, oh save him ! Deep unto deep Doth answer, wave to wave calleth : Look Upwards, from afar there streams a ray of glorious Hope, the rolling " sea shall |^ve her dead." Look o'er the earth, take now The scroll, and chronicle the spot whete no Man sleeps. Touch mountain, den and cave. Haste from Siberia's wastes to Ceylon groves, Mark Abysania's climate and Kamschatfeka's Snows. Is thy parchment fillud 7 Fold, fold it By. The ice and turf alike are dreary Sepulchres. Where is the rainbow promise? Earth Shall be 'reft a home. Watch 1 o'er all the world one dread Foe reigns; trouble and anguish follow in its Train. A brooding pestilence. All the sons of Men are thus polluted. lio! far away there is a Fountain opened ! Cleanseth it the Leper f It is for Deep, dark sin, and foul transgression. He that Thirsts drinks freely of the hallowed streams. ^ I \ 108 THK HOXXT BRANCH. And when . The sea is dead, Heaven^s nlrer cords all loosed, And the golden bowls all perbhed ; when earth's Revolving wheel is broken at the cistern : Is 'this The multitude of sUun ? The last enemy to be Destroyed is Death. Oh ! Death ! when thy elder brother, Time, shall be no more, and thy twin brother. Sin, be cast away in darkness ; then comes thy death ; For Death to die. "What shrouded mystery hangs O'er thy doom, Monster insatiable 7 E'en froni thy "' Birth the vision haunted thee, that Eden's children Should not dwell with thee, and thou hast eVer felt The strong hand of Omnipotence staying the Bridle rein of thy pale charger. Thou art to Die. And when our Death is dead ;'then we, in full Perfection, shall live again. Immortality shall Drop on mortality ; Incorrnption then shall rest On this corruptible. The northern blust sweeps onward. The forest falls before it; Lebanon's cedars die j the Eagle drops before the thunder-bolt'; but the Meek violet sleeps in peace, the dove rests Safely beneath the Rock of Ages ! f ( m mbLLT'ntLAson. 109 BURIAL OF THE UNKNOWiT. [The weary tntTellw turned aside for ««po8e and rest ; the ferer of a burning climate bad wasted hie form, and the dying stranger came among us bat to die. He met with all the commisseration and sympathy such circum- stances demanded, and wa) buried by the Brethren of that Society of which he proved himself a free and accepted Memben Sleep, itranger, sleep lu your burial alone ; Strange are the forms round your lonely bier clinging: Sleep, stranger, sleep ; Strange are the voices your requiem singing : They over thee weep ; One of an household, who stayeth for thee ? One of a bright band, who prayeth for thee ? Sleep, stranger, sleep. Comrades, ye know not The form that ye bear ; A brother whom foir girls wait for this hour. With heart's love breaking; A lover who sees not the gathered flower, Nor place of meeting ; A father whfise children are watching for him, From the morning light to the midnight dim. Oh ! weep for his lot I Last home of the brave. We bring 'neath your pale, OnO whom we name not he died with this trun, And lonely his grave ; But we trust in our Saviour to see him again, Where bright angels wave ; For he q>ake of his home in a realm away, Of the king in his beauty and mansions of day, Growing bright for him. 10 ^r^i-ii'^ no TBI HOIXT BRAMOa. So we giye him thee; Now,, 'nsteni, sing The lay that the sleeper sang in his sleep ) Ah I ye may weep ; 'B'ot sad was the sound of that home, sent breath, And prayer for sleep ; But weWe closed the bright eye and laid the dark look. On the brow which grew cold as the wave-stricken rock ; Now bend the knee. Brothers! we leave him In peace and rest j Calm be his sleep, till the dawn of the morning. When we shall meet ; And the lone stranger's form the bright dond adorning. His kindred shall greet. Stranger we've given thee a place with the band. Of the hallowed dead who have left our land. Sleep ! stranger, sleep 1 COLERAINB. 'Twas the evening ere the battle of fanaons Waterloo, And two warriors side by side looked on the water blue ; The youngest spake,"! summoned you firam our comrade's merry jest, There's a heavy weight lies here, brother, a trouble in my breast *, And I've much to say to you that must be said to-night. For God has told me I shall fall to-morrow at the fight ; , And I know that you will ever be the soother of each pain. Are we not both from Erin, and both from dear Coleraine. Ohl B Say wil You ha A blen But no Ohl fr S] Ton in TouH *-' TBI HOIXT BKANOH 111 *^ Nay, Mtart not, Bryan, look not aad, I am not dying now, ^e breezes yet play freely round my warm and flushing brow j And my soul is strong and vigorous to bear the soldier's part, And the streams of life gush easily throughout my beating heart; And I'm a Christian Brother and not afraid of death, But there are loving ones who'll weep over my dying breath ; Though they will not see me fall among yon princely train, For they are in Ireland, in distant, fair, Goleraine. " I've a gentle wife, dear Bryan, you may remember her, '^ When we three in happy childhood so oft together were ; When yon return in honour convey this to her hand. Say they are letters come from one in a far and happy land ; There's a lock of hair, a portrait, they are tokens sad and true, And she will weep o'er those wiUi tear-drops not a few ; But tell her also how I died, tell her that every vein Thrilled to the last for Ellen, young Ellen, of Coleraine. « I've an infant, Bryan, not a boy, Lshould not fear for him, For his would be bright honour's path till wearying life grew dim , And the world would call him brave in his daring bold career; 'Tis for a gentle daughter, dear brother, that I fear ; With her mother's winning loveliness, her father's spirit free, O I God in mercy guide her bark safe o'er life's rolling sea. 01 Bryan she may deeply love one of the warrior train, And be left as I have left one, one in far-off Colerain. Ohl Bryan, we are brethren by a strong and mystic tie. Say will you keep and nourish these till you lie down to die 7 You have often sighed o'er faithless ones,you know the heart will take A blemish from the blight of Love, and bear it till it break ; But now* you'll have another charge, a young an4 joyous th|ng, Oh ! friend, dear friend, no scalding tear, thus from your eye should spring, Yon inay see me never more,;for ainong the crowded dain, Yonll scarce remember Dermotj poor Dermot, of Coleraine.'' L 113 •TW HOLLT MUnqH. He h«d finished. — In the morning the fwniiding trumpet pealed^ And these true ones fought lilce brave men on battle's gory fidd; And many hours roUed swiftly by ere pressing foes gave way Before Britannia's banners and her troops of mighty sway; But it ended at the last, and the noble young and faravOi The coward and the loving, lay in one fearful grave ; And Bryan with one bleeding wound traversed the oover'd plain To search for gallant Dermot, brave Dermot, of Coleraine. He searched among the living till hope's bright star had fled. And a tear was on his cheek when he turned among the dead ; But his sad ta&k was not fruitless, he found his friend at length, The yo'jng and stately warrior struck down in manly strength ; And Bryan wept o'er him, who lay a corps,e upon the earth,. Far ^om his gentle kindred and the clime that gave him birth ; He started — ^not in loneliness lay the soldier on the pltdsj For Ellen was with Dermot, fair Ellen, of ColeraiQe. Ah I she had journeyed wearily to gain the scene of strife, And she reached it to behold the Soldier's ebbing life; And the arrows of Death met her as she knelt upon the sod, And their faithful soiils together reached the city of their God ; And Bryan looked upon them, as they slept together there, Life's streams gushed all around tliem, the gallant and the fhir ; And the watcher moved the mantle and saw life among the slain, 'Twas Dermot's infant daughter, good Dermot, of Coleraine. They were buried With the honors which crown a soldier's tomb. And tear-drops not a few fell for their early doom ; And many an aged warrior sighed and turned away his face, As Bryan bore the daughter to her parent's resting place; ,. Ahd days rolled by, a ship of war bore the victorious home,, 'And a fair gi^l Wi^ a tvarri<$r togethieir crossed the foam ; They reached their native land in peace, from the battle and themaini, But two weire ifeft iii Waterloo, two wanderers from C6l.eraine.r 8od, • God; I tomb, fiice, '»,-M -•»•. M WHATSOEVER YE SHALL BIND ON EAmH, SHALL BE BOUND IN HEAVEN, AND WHATSOEVER YE SHALL LOOSE ON EARTH, SHALL BE LOOSED IN HEAVEN.*' , They stood together, and a child Was standing with then? there ; And Jesus passed His gentle hand • Through the boy's curling hair ; And waiting were a noble few,— In listening attitude, — To hear their Saviour's loved command, And sweet beatitude. " Go forth — the iron bands of sin Shall loosen at your touch, And where the hardened fierce ones dwell, Pure light from Heaven shall gush; Ye are my minions — ^haste away ^—m Woe shall from earth be driven, And whatsoe'er ye loose on oarth Shall still be loosed in Heaven. "Go forth — bind up the strangiPr's wound, Forsaken and bereft, Go heal his sad and sorrowing heart, From home and kindred reft; His blessing shall with you remain A new, bright chain, unriven. And whatsoe'er ye bind on earth On you is bound in Heaven. * , . " €r6 forth — and guafd these little ones, Ilie gentle children take, And turn, them from destruction's paths, E'en for their Master's sake ; Hi THS HOLLV MUNOHt A fudeleM oirolet i» their lore, Such !■ to angels given; Bind it around yonr brows on earth, - And wear it bright in Heaven. " Go, — weave the threads of Love's pnre cord Around eiaoh other's heart; Forge strong your bands, make firm your vows Together — though apart; And evermore shall you be one— I have the promise given, That whatsoe'er ye bind on earth. Shall still be bound in Heaven." The voice that spake, the throng that heard,^ Are vanished from our sight ; And woe, and grief, and shame^ and crime, Shade man with darkest night. O ! who shall bear the lamp of Truth 7 To us may grace bS given, To loose the bands of sin on earth, ' Thien find them loosed in Heaven. Btit that sweet voice shall sound again, Not as 'twas heard before. Oft mingling with the murmuring wave On Kedron's peaceful shore, O ! when lie cometh may we hear Him say, "Behold, what ye In charity did unto these Ye did it nnto me ; Now take your rest ; — my faithful .pledge Hath ever been uoriven : Lp ! what ye firmly bound •on earth E'en now is bound in Heaven." li^i ^H - TIUp. HOLLT IIIIAMCII. 116 .n CURIAM. She looked on the host, by the Red Sea's bank, They were free from the king, 'ncnth the wave who iank ; And the sounds of their songs were like tunes from the wave, Where the dark billow chants o'er the mariner's grave. And there stood her brothers unshrinking, but worn, Miriam joyed in the words through the full camp borne; And thoughts returned back, of one dear brother's smile. And her lonely watch by the banks of the Nile. And another was there whose full voice was heard, As the breezes of even his bright locks stirred ; The sound of that song was enclianting to her, ' From the grandson of Ilezron, the powerful Ilur. And Miriam then summoned a beautiful train, To re-echo the sound of the cherished strain ; And the voice of the lyre and timbrel woke. And the thrilling power of music broke. There woman passed with her faithful love. And her pure hopes reaching to heaven above; Thoy were one with the strong, by that holy hymn, To suffer with them, till each eye grew dim. And delicate creatures went softly by. As the brilliant stars of a summer sky ; And the glowing light lit the waving curls Of Israel's beautiful dark-eyed girls. That bright throng, where are they whose pulses beat, To the music, the lay, and the dancer's feet ? On the Yamsuph's bank, do they still dwell there, Even Moses and Aaron, fair Miriam, and Hur? They are gone from the sea, 'neath the sheltering wing Of an elder brother, they sweetly sing ; But not on the sands of Arabia's coast, They dwell in His presence, " the Lord of Hosts." ■»■!• V THE GRIEF OF THE LAST ONE. They bid me,* 'midst their floweri roam, When the light of Rvmmer shines ; They did not know my childhood home, Embowered with the vines. They speak the pleasures of the free. The billow high and proud ; Thoy do not deem the lone blue sea, Is made a sister's shroud. They name the honours of the train, Whose crimson banners wave, They think not that the blood-stained pidn, Is my own fond brother's grave. They talk of balmy myrtle flowers, Tears to my eyelids flow, For far away in Southern bowera, A fond one is laid low. They weep fur the sad captive lone, Thoughts of my friends draw nigh ; They do not know the dungeon stone Saw that caged eagle die. Sweet cherubs at the fall of night, Kneel at their mother's knee ; I cannot bear the pleasing sights- Mother ] I think on thee ! They speak of broken bands ; they mourn For those whose house has fled ; They think not I am all alone, My household ..with the dead. They breathe the name of a better dime, Balm to my heart is given; I know, though scorched by the breath of Time, We shall meet again in Heaven. ON TI Tl St A .TOS HOIXT MUNOB. 117 ON THB BURIAL OF A MEMBER OF THB ORDER OF ODDFELLOWS. There gathered a throng of tho bold, the brave, They itood roand a3rothcr'a open grave ; Such were (he words their leader aaid, Aa they sadly bent o'er the sleeping dead : *' Brother ! round thy home, thy hearth. Desolation spreads its dearth ; When the evening birds rejoice, They thou lov'st will miss thy voice ; Wife, and sisters, bright-eyed son|i. They, the lone, and weeping ones ; • They, the loving, nnd the fair, Brother, they will miss thee there 1 Brother ! when yon manly throng Raise the hymn and swell the song ; When they strike each fall-toned string, To the lay they*re wont to sing; Will they miss one swelling tone ? Will they think of one that's gone t In the hallowed house of prayer, Brother, they will miss thee there. Brother ! we have laid this night Thee beneath the mount&m's height ; We have stood beside thy grave. We have wept, who oould not save ; Shall the world mark us with scorn f Brother, it is thee we have borne ; Shall the stranger mock the tear. Brother, we have touched thy bier f 118 THK IIOLLT BRANCH. By the tows that passed the night Of thy new inaugural rite ; By our own, oui* hallowed sign, By the love that still is thine ; By the heart and by the hand, . Of our own beloved band ; By the tears which bright eyes shower^ Brother, we are here this hour. Shall we wait thy coming feet, Whon'our noble Lodge shall meet? Shall we stay to hear them fall, ShdU we wait our Brother's call ? No ! for thou art far away, From the world, and with the elay j Sad on thee the mould to cast^. Tliy first meeting was thy last. , And may we who still remain, Stand prepared for Death's last pain ; When the sun and moon are fled. And the graves shall yield their dead ; When the mystic spell is broken, Of the secret softly spoken ; s-ic rjf>^ When the chariots fill the air. Brother, may we meet thee there ; When the earth's fii-m walls are riven, Brother, may we meet in .Heaven." ■•// ifT H4w A'r And the voice was hushed on the zephyr's breath, , That band stole away from the vault of Death, f .,, For the clods fell heavily on his breast, , f, ^^jj^ And they left their Brother to take hi* rest. .,(^,^ THI HOLLT BRANCH. 119 " EVEN SO, OH J FATHER." Why was it that the storm grew wild, Where the fierce billows rave, mi that lone widow's only child Was cast upon the wave ? . Why was it that no beacon beamed On that dark night ? " E'en so, O Father ! for it seemed Good in Thy sight." Why is it there are those who sigh For the calm rest of home, Tet wandering from their childhood sky, In stranger climes still roam ? And they on whom the light hath streamed Deem it not bright? " E'en so, O Father ! it hath seemed Good m Thy sight." Why is it that to-day. we mark The sportive infant fair; Yet ere the evening skies are dark The spoiler hath been there? And hopes that friendship fondly dreamed Have lost their might? .*■ " E'en so, O Father ! it hath seemed Good in Thy sight." vio The exile, in his sickening hour. When voices from the streams, Around his home with magic power, Steal through his fevered dreams ; No friendly skill the power hath deemed Of that strange blight ? " E'en so, O Father ! it hath seemed (Jood in Thy sight." 120 THK HOLLT BRANCH. Why is it there ar« gentle ones Who see not slcy, or flowers, Who cannot view the forest's sons, Or mark the rose leaf bowers ? They know not where the sun hath gleaned In radiance bright ? << E'en so, O Father 1 it hath seemed Good in Thy sight.'* When troubles in their power shall rise, And dreary hours come, May we look up beyond the skies, To that bright rest, our home ; And though the tempest darkly gleams. Say in Thy might, " E'en so, O Father ! for it seems Good in Thy sight." ttaA THE SONG OF THE MERMAIDS. VIRBT VOICE. There's a bark a&r on the tossing wave. She's of gallant form, and her crew are brave ; One being is there we must summon here, To the coral caves and the ocean cheery Methought the eyes of such sparkling hue. May contrast well with the waves' calm blue ; And the silken fold of each shining look. Will weave with the sea-weed on this dark rock. SECOND VOICE. Last night the voice of his melody. Vied with the surf m its revelry } As softly the sweet music's gentle strain, Like the notes of an angel, swept o'er the mafai \ T.HK liOJLbT BRANCH. 121 As he sang to the bright and gushing foam, His thoughts turned back to his own sweet home ; To old oak trees and sweet woodland lowers. Shall he go free, or shall he be ours ? " "" •>V 'J A f And bolder then grew the sailor's lay, He feai*ed not the wrath of the breaker's spray; He told the winds in their. midnight song, ,^1 hi- When the strength of the tempest sweeps along ; And the thunder above its car unlocks, " His defence is sure a munition of rocks." He sang as the moonlit deck he trod, Of a mother's love, and a mother's God j ;^ .. .^ A being so brave and so bold, as he, -.^ „^^^ .^.^ , Must be one with us, brave son of the sea. : I t'i ^''<^ nq ! t ) THIRD VOICE. He may not be ours, we do not dare To gather him here though so brave and fair ; He will not come as we see him now, "With the ruby lip and unclouded brow; Those hands will be icy when we shall n6ed Their force to retard the fierce billow's speed. FOURTH VOICE. We may not touch till the spoiler's doom. Hath passed from Heaven and marred the bloom; We may not breathe tiU the spoiler's dart. Hath stayed the red veins of the gushing heart; We shall claim but clay when the soul is riven, And hath hastened back to its kindred heaven. So they finished the strain of the sailor's dirge, The song died away in the hissing surge ; The breaker rolled in its pomp, and pride, Tlie wave in its play dashed the ship's smooth side ; BtttiSafe through the laughing and stormy spray, The bark to the sea-beach held fast its way, 11 123 TUK UOLLT BRANCH* LIGHT. - - * " In the beginning God made Heaven and earth," When time now hoar with age first had his birth. Then' first evolved the vital atmoisphere, And free from blight of sin were skies etherial. Then firbt revolving wheels bore round this sphere, And immaterial hands made the material. Then the creator fixed the hours for night— His loud command went forth, " Let there be light. '' And what is light, and how near doth it come To purest spirit ? for its radiance beamed Ere yet the sun had found its earliest home; Ere yet our sister planets' bright lamps gleamed } Ere yet the ocean bars were molten ; Ere yet the breaker's voice had spoken. O ! purest source of light, while feebly we Pursue our pleasing path ; we ask, oh ! when Shall these poor eyes of ours behold e'en thee ? In whom is light, that light the life of men 7 Earth, like those plants whose course we love to trace. Has no young rootlets to support its frame; Yet stays upheld amid the worlds of space, By His wise hand who calls the stars by namo, And gave this sphere undeviating laws, That we may worship Him, the one great cause ; And shall we know the texture of those bands With which he bound the garments of the clouds ? And shall we learn the laws of other lands. Whose radiance beams when night our sun-light shrouds, And not bow down to worship and adore The God who is to be when time shall be no more? And what is matter, what strange compounds make Our serial sphere? mountain and rock and deep,* Jew Fi AU Like • And T An^ T ^■.ii: TUB HOIXT BRANCH. 123 ids, Jewels and day, bright sand, where billows break, Firm land and ocean waves, where dark storms sweep; All that in one grand hour shall pass away, Like clouds upon the bosom of the day. And what are we ? to turn to crumbling dust, The grave and dark corruption doth rcfUie, And these material forms shall rest in trust, Till at €rod'S call each its own soul shall join. THE KING'S LAMENT FOR HIS INFANT. King David was laid down Uncomforted and sorrowing. Sad visions came to him Through his seven days of watehing. Morn followed Night, night followed morn, as ever. The Turrets of the royal palaces shone with much Splendour at the set of sun. Jerusalem, bright City, stood with all its loveliness unshrouded. Why was the Monarch sad ? The Lord had Struck the darling of his heart with sickness, ana The &ther mourned his suffering son :—- « O ! beautiful baby ; I had planned that when I returned from fight, For Israel's hosts thy tiny feet should come And welcome back thy father to his turrets bright, And eyes and smiles yet dearer in that home } 'Tis hard to see thee go, Down to the grave so low- In gloom to lay thee. :i mm 124 THK BOLCT BRANCH; -.ll.i ' «fO! beautiful iti&nt; '"^ -V^f' ^«^ ^^'^^^^ Metbougbt hour I would train thy genlte vdiW " ' To each sweet sotihd of musio, and die '|N>wer Of thrilling antbemla, when our tribes rfejofce- ' Before God's holy throne at holy hour. Ah ! thou wilt learn to swell Notes where the angeis dwell ; '^ Thyself triumphant. .. ' . ;>i« inO« ;?•/!{; fit .■ ■■■ " O 1 beautiful flower 5 Fair as the rose that in yon fountain dips, Why wert thou more to me than others were, When I wruid press thy soft oheek to my lips, And see the brightness of thy silken hair ? itirfv/ f.i /. Why did thy beaming eyes. Soft as the summer skies, Ghai'm with such power ? '•^ . fi •JUT '.iJ • !!i»i.i " O ! beautiful bieing ; Thou wilt not learn to err, anil take civja ,r The one p^t Iamb into thy gathered fold, ISTor make such payments as I have learnt to miAe, Not with the treasured heaps of shining gold. ; But give another's life : ^, ,, ^ . , !v. To battle's bloody strife, , ,.„'» ^^yti?? And God— ^ali'Seeing. -Uj! oiIT" " O! beautiful creature ; • Thou never now wilt feel the pangs I; feel,' ; ' Deep pan^ of burning thonght-^I see them all— My troo{M3 of valiant men, now while I kneel The Ilittite's dying form, 'neath TheWswalJ, Comes up before my sight, 1 ' Fresh from the dreadful fightj Death on each iejature. . .i-.._. ..I L Ji 11/. 4 T ■utAv r " O ! beantifal baby ; I have Btood undaunted in the valley When the great champion to the war has come ; Pve called my troops round their own chief to rally, Pve fought and then returned a conqueror home : My founts of sorrow slept When I, a shepherd, wept, For griefs that may be. «0! beautiful child; Thou art the second idol of my soul ; How wilt thy gentle mother for thee weep ? From her entrancing eyes griefs floods must roll. When thou art taking thy unbroken sleep ; Tet I for thee have prayed, That thou mayst not yet fade, Like spring's bud mild. *' O ! beautiful creature ! Ah ! my elders speak among themselves. What, art thou gone my fairest darling boy ? Going to the place where the cold earthworm delves ; Grone to be blessed in realms of endless joy ? And glorious babes are there. And smiles of glory fair Lighting each feature. <<0! beautiful infant; It is in vain to ask thee here once more ; W^y should I sorrow now, loved one, for thee ? Thy trials and thy woe for ever o'er, I'll meet thee ; thou wilt not return to me. I'll meet thee in bright lands, With many holy bands. Myself triumphant." !SSTaC» ^^ THf noLur. ff^AnpH^ RUTH AND NAOMI., r|.'^ Mi [I A statdy hall of Bethlehem. Into the chamber where Ruth And Obea, and Naomi sat, the "', '"J^*''* "J ' Sunbeam entered 8ofl:)y, and on the forehead Of the sportive child reflected like pure Silver. Obed was very lovely ;' his eyes, his Beautiful eyes, spoke love and majoHty; the Same fond glance th^t ever shone through ' The glittering orbs of Davi^ and King Solomon. Tlis hair, his long fair hair : Oh ! that was .Lik<) hi» mother's, and the smile, the ready Smile, that gleamed as sunshine on the Waves; this told he was the son of Ruth The Moabiteas. And when the light wind Passed through his ringlets, and the breath Of Heaven gave to his cheeks a deeper Crimson, Obed seemed a thing too Heavenly To reach manheod's stature. Naomi spoke " My daughter ; God hath given Thee thy reward of fervent fiuthfulness, Rememberest thon two years from this same day, When thou wouldst leave me' not in loneljness To travel on along my dreary way, My sad heart riven ? " My people have been thine— lilrst Mahlon, strangely beautiful and meek, Like a pale floweret ; for the light tint of rose^ Ever BO feeble on his delicate cheek. Spake of short sojourn, where Time's tempest blows, And earth's suns shinfe. . ,^ vas "My people have been thine— He who' became thy brother, my first born, The dark and stately Chiilon ; in his might Struck, down like blooming tree by lightning torn,, Who went to r«st awhile in the grave's night Before hia time. .It' " My people have bten thine — Behold the son of Salmon, wise and good, God hath restored my two sons back in him, And eased me for. the ten sad yeara I stood A stranger in the vale of sorrows dim, 'Mid Mdflb'iS prime. !;-;.,.;! "Thou, more than any other, Fairest and dearest of all earthly treasure, And thy young infant, dear indeed to me, His beaming eyes glowing with purest pleasure. Fair as the early blossom of the tree, And thou his mother." She ceased, and the beautiful Ruth wept on her mother's bosom, and Old remembrances awoke of Moab's Fruitful country, and the vine that climbed Round her first dwelling, and the corn that Wavec in her first pastures; these rose up In the clear light of memory — ^but a. known Voice banished the vision— :the menial. In his flowing garments passed the door With low salutation, ushering in the Judge of Ephratah. And then his darling son awoke As from a reverie, and springing to his father's Arm's, laid hia soft dimpled hand upon the glittering Robes of Boaz, 138 TBI HOLLY BKANOH. , Peace brooded like a dove upon the Family ; and as they gazed upon the plaini or Bethlehem, Hope, Faith and Love, pure Love, God's fiurest g^ft, dwelt with them! ■k\ Oh ! had they looked upon The lowly stable and the manger bed, and seen The glorious infant that was there to be — Ile^ The blessed son of David of the root of Jesse. Had they seen this, longer they would have Clasped the gentle Obed; more fervently Would the wise magistrate of Bethlehem Have blest, as he did that night, his son, His wife, his Mother, and his God. THE HIGHLANDER AND HIS SON. 'Twas even. On the- low roof Of the emigrant's hut, warm came the Sunbeam, the peach was blushing in its ripened Gold, where the rich fruits make contrast with The maple. Up shot the verdant pines, and the Uncultivated lands smiled in their greenness. In these dark forests, where the voice of Man is seldom recognised, the cool calm river •, Of the Mohoning passed, sweeping Ohio's lovely Verdure, llie branches of the tulip trees bent Toward the flowing waters, and the wood- RiDses raised their crimson cheeks to the blue Dome of Heaven. .- .. ^fmatrsirmm nil *'t I ■ THI HOLLT ' IRANOHiT f, Softly the Hgbt of erening FtHl on the pale fJMes of the emigrMitii ; > Within the untrimmed hut of logs ft lowly Couch was spread. There lay a boy on whose bright Cheek had flushed the withering fevisr. He Slept uneasily. There was but one with him, hiS'*'' Futhci^. He had come away fV>om f^r-ofT Scotland. And now the Highlander bowed Down, and in his anguish prayed that this Last cup of sorrow might not be given to Him in its full measurement. But what Sweet voice aroused him tcatn. his pleading ? >> t^>^; " Father, I'm going home." ' ' ' ' " Ah ! says't thoA so, niy ^n \ woaldst t&on A'^way again t6 thy green valleys. Hath Thei Cever, in its blighting course, led thy , Bewildered senses . to imagine thoa Shoyld'st see that home again ?" " Father, I spake not of Loeh Linohart ; I Thought n6t of the mountain where I used To play with sister." " What saw'st thou then, my son ?" " Father, I have heard the harpers Harpinjg^ with their harps, ftnd her sweet voice Was there, who taught me first td pray In our Own dwelling; Father, they beckon me, Shall J not go? " My child, that I have lived to see this Day of anguish ; thbu, my last of earth, must '• Th<>it. g» Irom me 7 'tis more than I can > hear. --. Hath npti God said, that be' wUl ne'er forsake . • Who trttstin Him, ia«d will Hei leave me all -^ Alone ?" c f/V7 ■u\ AiX ,?:iT WBB!-g^ - J l ■jm l -.i. .».i-.i-.«iJ i lu 18a THI ■OU.T BEAnCR. " Father, that Toio« said al«d, * Vtom your Idoli I will oleanae you clean.' When sister died, Ton told us not to weep for her, and if we Sorrowed not for her, the beaatiful, weep not O'er me, dear father. If our €k)d sees fit, oan Not he bring you soon where moth md rust Corrupt not, e'en to your own in Heaven 7 The Worm is at your heart, my parent ; we shall Not be parted long. Is not to-day the Sabbath?" "Even so, my darling. At hours like these, the Bell of our own kirk doth sound and summon Up the tribes to worship.", ^* I think of that, dear father, do We not know those who have sang this day, and Lifted up their hearts in prayer to our God. Ah ] I shall soon inhabit that fair city, where the Blessed dwell." . " My boy, I've wept among Thy curling looks, to think that thou wilt Not possess my father's rank of chieftain. I've Wept that those proud trophies of our ancestral Line lie mouldering, or are borne by other Hands ; the prancing steed, and the loved Heather, are not for thee, son of the thistle." " Father, I have a name far worthier than These. I have a robe of glory waitinfi; for me In the Heavens." " Beloved, these are the brightest Hopes I ever had for thee; but now, at this sad Time of loneliness, 'tis hard to part. Speak, Dearest,: hath thou no dread of 'Death's dark '-7^ Valley ?" ' ' 1 TUS HOLLT BRANCH. 131 " Father, dott thon remember thoae tweet Words my Mother used to sing in our own Dwelling? hear them, dear Father: * Before me, I the Lord have set, Sith it is BO that he, Doth ever stand at my right hand, I shall not moved be ; lie will mo show the path of life, Of joys there Is full store. Before his face, at his right hand Are pleasures evermore ; And as for me, God's own face In righteousness shall see. And with Hm likeness when I wake, I satisfied shall be.' " There was a pause ; and that lone Scotchman's Thoughts had wandered back to his Forgotten boyhood ; had heard again The last told breathings of his sainted Wife ; had heard the billow splashing Over his young girl's head. He spake: " Go then, my boy, go, and be satisfied With thy own Saviour's likeness j I have no More to lose, but all to gain." " Father, I'm going now, one lAst farewell; we soon shall meet again." Midnight drew Nigh upon the cabin, and the brilliant Moon poured down upon the unlit walls ' Thereof. The stars were twinkling in their Noiseless watoh, but at their glittering, The Highlander irose not from the 132 TH8 HOLLY BRANOK. Death couch 6f his fair darliitg. Mora Came, and at its rosy beckon, up Flew the bluebird, and the pure drops Of dew vanished away. But ftU within The hut was still ; moved not the son, ' . Or father ; no, the severing of that last Cord, which had bound the man to earthy Was more than he could bear, and in that Lonely midnight, he had viewed his treasures Bright and safe in heaven, and joined their song of triumph. The boy had slept in deatji, and in his waking up Was satisfied with God's pwn likeness. LINES WRITTEN ON B04RD TfJE " MAGNET." Away we haste like a flitting bird, No sound of cable or chains are heard, But rapid and still as a spirit's flight, '^ We are: passing over the waters bright ; A few years ago, and the Indian's bark Shot like a deer o'er the waters dark, Where now, through splashing and silvery spray, The iron " Magnet ^' is ploughing her way. Hamilton's far-bound and queenly boat, [ May success be yours when your banners float ; You are born to bear, ah I who 7 — what forn