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Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottorr*. as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole —^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film^s d des taux de reduction diff^rents. Lorsque le document est trop gran pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, 11 est U\m6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche i droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 CANADIAN MELODIES. .1 CANADIAN MELODIES A \ I) POEMS BV GEORGE E. MERKLEY. Toronto : HART & RIDDELL 1893 6H9:S() [Ent.rod according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in tl,e year of our Lord. one thous.andcijrht hundred and ninety three, by Ccor^ic K. MerUlev. in the office of the Minister of A^rleuhure.] nKHICATIOX TO OSK WHOM CANADIAN lllM.I) IN S KVKRVWMKRK (iRATKFl L RKMKMHRAN CE "IS K\-(. KLI.KNCV THE MA RyilS OF LORNK, Tins VOMMK IS DEDKATK I). )' 'i Xani uequc chorda snntini rvddit (jni'in vult inniius cl nu-us, Poscenti(jiie irravem persaepe rcmittit luiituiu ; Xrr sonpcr f'crict (jnodcuuquc ttiinnhilKf cnKS. -HoKAiK. PREFACE. No apolo^n- is made for brini^nn^- ihjs volume before the public. Several of the poems it contains were mere attempts to relieve the monotonous routine of collej^'-e life ; manv of them were written under foreij^ni skies, and this will account for that lack of national spirit which the title o( the volume mi^^iit ^eem to implv. They have all been written hastily, and with frequent interruptions, so that no time was left for refinin^r or amplifyinir. These remarks are not made to forestall criticism. Those who look with a jealous eye to the honor of Kn^Hish literature, are bound to pass what judi^nnent they please upon every intruder into the j^roves of Parnassus, regardless of any extenuating'- cir- cumstances which may be brought forth by wav of palliation. The dearth of national literature in Canada is to be deplored ; and whatever may have a tendency to stimulate activity in this line ought U III il b ,^3 \ not to be discoiiraj^ccl. The history of Canada has a pocMic background. Our people are by nature inclined to hteralure, a? may >e seen from the hij^^h character of our home journals and from the larj^'e importation of foreij^-n books and mai^'azines. N'et our national literature is meaj^^re, compared with that o\ other countries wiiose advantages have not been superior to our own. Are not the pearly whiteness of our skies, the placid loveliness oi' our lakes, the lonely majesty of our forests, as well as the heroic struj,'-j^les of our ancestors for the tlaj^ which they so dearly loved, fit themes for poetic inspiration and for minstrel reverie? It is true that we look to the Mother Country for our models ; but did not the Cireek colonies produce a litera- ture worthy to be compared to that o( Athens in her glory ? It is hoped that these remarks may not ap- pear presumptuous ; and as the prisoner whose case is hopeless appeals to the mercy of the court in order to ameliorate his condition, so the writer ol these verses lays aside his pen, promising- to impose no further upon public sentiment. No ft It Williamsbufg, On/., 1 I'KKFAfK I'RHI.I UK - CoxT i:\Ts. I'At.l- MKLODIKS. Thk Kai.nhihv In Till- I.AM> HI THK Si \ Tin: Sailors Hkidk Tm: Hkokk.n Mikkok - . . . Thk Cmikkt.mns L.a.mk.nt .... Shadow.Lanh An Ohk . • " • . Till.: llK.W K iM v rMi,.,, Kmimr,, I.ovai.isi OkR tRAt; AM) O'kr 1)| nk Tmhy Hi r Drkam Who Hi-i.rKVK - Thk M u.ic Kin,; A\ Al Tl MNAI. DlKt.K . . . . . SoNtis I'nsi Nt; COMPAOKS OSSII M M k'STICS I':y i:s That Ark Tski > TO Wkkcim Oh, Thoi Hast W i;i'T I. om; Tka xsrnoN Thk Mystkky OK THK Ska 1' Arm 5 7 M 1 1 I { III i<> jj !■• ,V' .?! .V? •KS :?« .?■> 4.1 47 49 I: I !', 1 V' V \ii i \ A Lamknt Kmber Pk TI KIS POKMS. A LixiK.Nn oi DiAii .Man s Lakk - Till-: \'i(,ii. A Fahi.k in '|\\\> Camos I.MPRH.MITl TRANSLATIOXS. Horack: Oni-; i\, Hook iii . . . . XVT, III ... . Homeric Uaki.a.nds, Iuam i, 45- 5^ III. 1-14 \'l, 14()-14C) 4t'<>-.s8o Till-; DviNt; Si.a\ 1: - Thk Lorklki TiiK Two Stkkams I'A(.K. .SO 5^ ^5 "4 9'.> 104 I'.\(.K. .SO Sa 57 66 rq 8s S<> 9' 9S 06 96 08 100 102 P.Tjre 45. Stanza v., liru- ^: "But Cirief with oVruhelmiii*,'- power." Pa^e 48, Stanza \ i.. lim- ; : "waves' wild inotioii." Pajfc 02, Stanza xi.. lint- i : "Uprose the sun in heaven's dim vault slowlv I I Prelude. I. T\ the lone ancient pines o( the Northland I stood, When the sun-tinted eaves of the skv were airlow. And I heard, from the soul oi' that vast solitude, Dim notes from a Harp that broke mournfully low ; Oh sweet was the spell which that melody threw. Till it seemed like the voice of a loved one that's ^one, Then I knew thee, dear Harp oi' my Country, I knew The spirit that breathed in thy low plaintive to ne II. Then hushed were thy numbers, and heavy and chill Was the silence that fell o'er the powerless soul ; "\'et soft as the tears which the nis^ht dews instill. And sweet as the dirg^es when mermaids condole ; Then I strove to recall that sad tone, but in vain, When anon the vast woods, now all lonelv and iirav Returned the dim notes, and I causjht but the strain. As the last tremblinti- echo died slowlv awav. Thk Rainbow. I. On a wild clifT that rears its bold crest to the sky I stood when the Storm-kini; was ra^-in- on hioh ; Hark lowered the tempest that spread o'er his brow, And like reeds in the wind the tail cra-s seemed to b ow. ir. But he soon passed away with his storm banners furled, And a sun-tide of -flory burst forth o'er the world, While around the dark Kast, ere the davsprin-'s decline. Curved the bri-ht bow of peace with its promise divine. ' III. Beneath the broad arch in the valley below Lay the home of the rich, lay the cot of the low ; There in beauty secluded the hamlet arose, And the churchyard beside lay in quiet repose. I Canadian Melodies, IV. There the ai^'-ecl were waltinj,^ in life's sunset tide ; And the yollni,^ liiey were there in the springtime'of pride, And the fair, whose soft cheek, with its beauty untold, Hore the seal of the grave on its delicate mould. V. There was Misery's tear, there was Gladness and Mirth, There was Grief that bowed low at the desolate hearth, - i^ut the bright bow rose high up to heaven above, And clasped all beneath in its ardor o{ love. VI. And I thought, O sweet emblem of glory and grace, 0\ a Love that clasps all in its fervent embrace ;— Or the sunshine o{ life, or the gloom of the pall, The living, the dead, it encircles them all. iV In Till- L.wn ov thk Six. I. I N- the land ot the sun -in that d^cp tervent clime, Where Beauty tore\ er cloth smile, Thouo^h the ripened fruit tails, yet the tree in its p Is bearing- fresh flowers the while ! prune II. Thus the heart mid the fervor of youth's sunny day, l^houi,'-h false you may deem it or true. Drops the old loves, that hapless fall fading'- awav, While it blooms mid the frai^'-rance of new. I The Sailor's Bride. I. Jt was eve,— at anchor riding- Stately ships were lulled to rest ; And the burnished sun was gliding- Down the g-olden pillared west. On a floral beach where madly Lashed old ocean's foaming tide, In half-broken accents sadly Mourned the sailor's lonely bride : II " Oh, ye winds on restless pinion, Hovering o'er the dusky deep. Tell me in what lone dominion Does my sailor lover sleep ? Down beneath the rolling- ocean, Where the twining: corals g-row, 'Neath the wild wave's ceaseless motion Does he slumber cold and low ? 8 Canadia7i Melodies, \ % in. " Now perchance the ni--ht winds blowin,il is keepin,., ' ' Wh.le the.r dove-spiri.s* „u,urn unavenjjed aM in vain IX. rn ye to madness, *' Ve Pale-face, I hate ye, I sco I loath to despair; hut I canmn Juen^^ All wretched I moan and ye scofT at my sadness. Oh Sp.r.t ! Great Spirit ! reven.^a^ oh, reven^^^e ! - X. He paused for a moment, then from the lone hei^Hu Pliin^red into the dark rollini^ river • And the mad foamin^^ bilious lashed loud in deli.Hu Then closed o'er the chieftain forever ' 4; Mt i Shadow-Land. (Imitated from the Japanese.) I. TX/niTi:- WINGED birds are playing In the sunset heavens aglow, White-sailed ships are straying On the sunset sea below, — - But neither the birds above that are flying, Nor the ships, where'er they may be, In beauty and strangeness ever vying. Are meant for me. n. The elm tree dances, while, lazily wooing. The zephyr passes along ; And aloft on a bough a ring-dove cooing. In ardor breathes his song ; - But neither the dove, nor the zephyr blowing. Which speaks to flower and tree. Nor the deep-dyed fringe of evening glowing, Are meant for me. i6 J Canadian Melodies, \\\ III. I turn my face to yon stately mountain, To\verinj>- aloft in sunset H o\v, With her lilied dell and ice-bound fountain, And purple peak of snow ; In her secret alone are the stars and clouds, And her beauty shines on the sea. But the matchless scene a pall enshrouds,— Tis not for me. I .x. \\\ From t\vili--ht's tomb in sadness Comes the breath o{ the sleeping,'- rose, Soft as the flush of sunset ^Hadness Its spirit about me flows ; And 1 hear in the silent depths around me The voices of thini,^s to be. And dreams from the infinite shore surround me- These are for me ! f ; rr 15 Ai. \} Ill; Canadian Melodies, V. Shadowy sails that are sent to meet me, Flapping,'- the shadowy air ; And shapes of beauty that rise to jrreet me, — Are ye phantoms, and yet so fair ? Now breakinj^ the bands of the dusk asunder, Tremulous stars dawn in mystery ; But they shine not a ray for the dark world under Thev shine for me ! VI. Ye stars that beam when the soul grows tender, Deep stars unknown to the skies, Now fairly shining*-, now veiling- your splendor, Are ye visions, oh, radiant eyes ? On the shore of the silent, thick shadows are fallinir. Veiling- an infinite sea. And spirits moving there are calling — Calling for me ! 18 Ax Ode. ^i J: \A/'' ■'^tand by a sunlit river, Where wavelets, wild and free, Flashino^ and "flittering ever, Rush onward to the sea ; O'er its bosom, bri-htly gleaming, A golden halo glows, As, in argent splendor dreaming, Its current onward flows ; There the golden sunlight pillows, And music ever wells, - But beneath those tossing billows Oft an undercurrent swells. If .1 1 .11 19 !! Canadian Melodies, Still the tide flows onward gladly, With music soft and low, And we know not, oh, how sadly. The waters moan below ! There the cruel rocks are rigid. And wrapt in sable gloom ; And the cold, dark depths are frigid As an icebound wintry tomb ; Yet the soul is lured to gladness. As the billows rise and flow, — But the current's mournful sadness No heart may ever know. I Life's stream thus, ever rapid, Flows onward merrily ; Though its glory may be vapid, No sorrow do we see ; And a smile may gild a feature. As the billows onward roll O'er the rugged rocks of nature Deep in the human soul, Ah ! the smile speaks naught of sorrow. Though with sadness it may vie, — But no solace can we borrow From the mockery of a sigh. 20 Canadian Mt/odics. Oh ! who would wish to treasure Aught oi Hfe's tinsel show, When, with every drau^^ht of pleasure, Is drained the dregs o^ woe ! Yet every sigh of sadness, And every pang of pain, Is thrilled with a sense oi gladness. We cannot quite explain, — But deep where the waters darkle. And surges ever moan, True pearls of splendor sparkle That may deck a kingly crown 21 ..j( . i ' >'. Thk Gravk of a United Empire Loy.vlist. I. QN the brow of a hill two tall oak trees expandinir enclose A deep archway of shadow that clasps in its bosom a tomb ; And oft have I seen as the sun in full i^riory uprose, How he peered o'er the steep of the hill throu-h that archway of j,Hoom. II. Then when eveninjr would fall, and niirht with her d< fi nger wy Pressed on h er chilly lips, would hush in d ness the hour. eep stil There in that archway the dyin^ sunliiHit would 1 And tarry long-est as if held by mg-er, iome mystical power. Canadia ii Melodies. \u. And oft in the noonday o^ youth, when the sunli-ht there hiy, Have I turned my footsteps to pass by that archway, which seemed To swin-- wide its portals and welcome the ebb-tide oi day, While the oak trees stood pensive, as though they inwardlv dreamed. IV. I remember the rustic rail-fence half fallen in ruin. Like the surf-dashed wreck of a vessel upheaved on the shore. With its timbers half clin<,nng to^-ether, half scattered, yet true in Its station remaining, and true to its purpose of vore. I 2;. ]'! Canadian Melodies. V. I remember the tall hardy thistle and g-olden rod f,'-ro\ving:,— Close nei8:hbors were bey-for the same clod o^ mould did they share ; No Howers bloomed there ; why should flowers be ever found blowinpf O'er dust that knew naught of life's joys? why should flowers bloom there? VI. r remember the rude timbered bier, that sad emblem of death, As it stood o'er the grave with its purpose fulfilled evermore ; Around it grew dank weeds and ivy with poisonous breath. That gave it a false guise of life, despite the dread semblance it bore. 24 i' I Canadian Mcloiiics. vir. Long, long had it been since the patriot there liad been borne, Long years since he fought for iiis king, for his country he bled ; But lament yet thy loss, O my country ! thy loss deeply mourn, Tis meet thou should'st mourn, ever mourn for a patriot dead. VIII. He fought for his country and king, and naught could he claim. But a loyalist patriot's grave— yet oh, better by far Than an empty bauble ever vaunting in Liberty's name, And a rebel grave upheaved beneath Victorv's star. IX. Oh, mourn thou my country, 'tis well thus a vigil to keep. And a tribute be paid to one who so loved you and blent His being with thine ; let him sleep, it is well, let him sleep — A hill-top his grave, a country his monument. I 25 H 1 Canadian Melodies, X. Vet not hero alone, but in many a spot mav be found, ^eKIcctcJ and lone, thou-h still cherished, our loyalists' ^'•raves ; And no footfall ..^ rebel or foeman shall ever resound. VVh.le the flaj,^ ,.^ their faith and their freedom above them still waves. XI. rst Ves peaceful they rest on thy hill-tops, O fair Canada, Ihe brave on whose valor the dawn oi thy hone fi arose ; And should o-lory decline, a.nl thy day-star fade slowlv away, The sunli^rht of hope would still lin-er where' they repose. er 26 ■ 1 3ur )V0 a, rst O'kk Ck.w. and O'kr nrxic. •Iv er Q'i'K cr.'ii,- and o'er dune, throuj^Hi the vale and the j^nne, Adown tiie wild rivulet swept, I'rom fountiins unseen, in the caverns above, Where Winter his nii^ht-revels kept ; And loudly it laughed as it eddied and whirled, Surjrino- round in its ^'•ladsome career ; For Spring- had come forth with her banners unfurled, Gi.in^^ joy, giviiii; joy to the year. I ^7 ill ^il Caiiadiau Melodies. II. And 1 saw, as the broad summer sun rose on hiirh, And poured down his flood-tide of h'i,rht, "^ That the rivulet shrank till you scarce could descry Its i,Himmer and wonted delij,^^. Then the winds, as they swept by its desolate shore, Broke mournfully o\\ the loiic ear ; For the flowers that bloomed on its banks were no more- In the dust they lay withered and sere. III. Tis thus in the sprinj^time of life, oh ! how oft Ambition's full tide clearly flows. And the winds, half oppressed with perfume, breathe so soft Till the broad summer sun deeply t^'-lows. Then the rivulet shrinks in its cold, flinty\ed, And the winds, with their doleful refrain. Drift the sere, withered leaves of fond hopes that are dead, And mourn o'er life's desolate plain. T" Thi For Aiu But Anc 28 n more — le so soft 2 dead, Thev Bit Drkam Who Belikve. TnEV but dream who believe that the heart can be ever Found true in its fervent devotion, That naui^ht in the noon-tide of youtli can e'er sever The bonds of enchantint^ emotion ; For stern Fate commands — and the day-star ^rows pale. And the angels weep softly above, And we hear, mid the sound of a low, broken wail, " Oh, what is more faithless than love? " But some heart must break, thoug^h the world still moves on, Unmindful of smiles and of tears ; And some bosom must throb with the liirht of life irone. Alcne through the desolate years I i# 29 Thk Magr- Rixg.^'= I. O"'^ had I the rino- which the Talmud says Ihe Prince of Saj;es wore, I'd Hash on thy soul its mairic rays, And all mystery there explore ! II. I here xvould he no secret, dark, ill-boding-. But my mind should read arii^ht ; No nameless horror forever g^oadi no-, _'-_ As vag-ue as the visions of nioht. Hi Iha restless dreams should then have peace, And sorrow be banished from view. And angniish and toil forever cease ;- ' For I'd know it' o/w heart be true. ni M *It is s.iki S( Its r;i\<; u-.iiil,l H;^u f n "■>-ii, wiicn ne \\()iiliJ turn so that to te;^:.^:ril:! ;;:;:;:;s<;;£^;;,;:;;^;"-' •"" ■---' -- --p^-^^- 30 m Ax AuTiMXAL Dirge. I. p.VLE shinc.^ the sun through azure-h"clded clouds That softly float in ambient light arrayed, And a dull, shadowy gloom anon enshrouds The leafless forest and the opening glade. II. No sound is heard save the soft-chanting waves Low murmuring on the shadowy-mantled sea, And the sad, moaning dirges in their caves Struggling, like fettered spirits, to get free. III. But as the day declines, the slanting beams In mellow lustre shine so calm and pure ; A radiant (\ood o( sunset glory streams. That lovelier grows and lovelier grows obscure. ^■>| Canadian Melodies, IV. Thus passed the clay through Hesper's gates of gold, Mushing in wonder-like repose the earth, Proclaiming, with its colors, bright and bold, The tidings ol" a glorious morrow's birth. \. Ah ! many a life like this, in dark despair Is doomed to bear the burden of its sorrow, But in its sunset depths a beauty rare Foretells the dawning o{ a happy morrow. VI. Let u" be patient, - life has many woes. And hopes like autumn leaves fall thick and fast ; But a dark day has oft a beauteous close. And a sweet dawn is the reward at last. 32 SoXciS L NSlXci. I. pn-KEare sono^s yet unsuno^, that, thouo-h silent, we feel, As over the soul their faint melodies steal ; Like the spell of enchantment which fairies woiikl weave, To fetter the victim they mean to deceive. II. "Ti 1 IS vam to resist them : by day and by nii^ht They impart to the soul a deep, quiet delis^-ht, And we feel that their lan--ua-e the sense overpowers. As the air when oppressed with the perfume of flowers III. When sorrow's dark shadows come like a death pall, And the dead leaves oi' hope by ad\ ersity fall, They come o'er the desert that looms in the heart, And a newness, a freshness, a verdure impart. i\'. in the blue purplino- waves of the sun-tinted sky. In the moonbeam, the sunbeam, the vesper's low si-h, In the still quiet eve, and the ni-ht-wind's low moan, ' Tnembodied in words, yet to thou-lu are thev known Canadian Melodies, \n the low lang-uid zephyr that steals through the dell, With a sweetness and sadness like lovers' farewell; In each flower and meadow, each leaflet and brooU, They each add a page to that mystical book. VI. O'er each object of n;it.v like they unfold A veil of deep mystery t ■. ■. ■ u ;old ; For the rose in its modest and calm peaceful rest, Has inflnite secrets enclosed in its Hreast. VII. Can it be that the spirit of genius yet lives, And to nature this chain of enchantment thus gives; That the souls of the dead, in this beautiful guise. Beam out like the light of some love angel's eyes? VIII. Ah, no! -'tis a glory through life's mist that strays, Like the dawning of morn through an autumn's thick haze, 'Tis the light of a glory for ever to shine, 'Tis a something within us— a something divine. 34 r^:. (! COMPAGES OSSIIM. (Lines composed while looking- into an opened t^raN e from my study window.) Jx sad reflection thee I scan, Lone tenant of this cell ; Oh, could'st thou speak to mortal man, What mysteries would'st thou tell ! II. Here hast thou lain in sleep profound, And years, lonu; years, have fled, Since friends and loved ones, gathering round, Wept o'er thy lowly bed. OD ;| C anadian Melodies. III. Perchance through \o\\^ and lonely hours, With heart-sick grief they mourned ; And clad thy early grave with flowers, As oft as spring returned. IV. IVM-chance 'twas wit or beauty's queen. Or wealth, that here lies low ; Hut who or what thou may'st have been, It matters nothing now. V. What thoughts were thine, what dreams of fame. What pride that would transcend ! Hut grief, or guilt, or woe, or shame. All here would seem to end. \i. We little know, perchance thy bier Was borne by willing knave. Whose ruthless hand hath laid thee here To fill a pauper's grave. 36 Ca nadiau . McIoiHl w . \ii. In sad reflection thee I scan, \am\q tenant of this cell ; Oh, could'st thou speak to mortal man, What mysteries would'st thou tell! \-iii. Xow all is o'er how vain, how weak, Are earthly strife and power The bubble on the brooklet's cheek, The tempest oi an hour. IX. Oh, human pride, how weak, how vain! An evanescent breath ; Oh life! the memory of a pain. That will not die with death. X. What checkered thinos our lives will be, How awful to behold, Wlien in eternity we see Life's motley web unrolled! o/ Mystics. I. 'Two rose bushes grew side by side : The light o( lieaven bathed them both ; The dews of heaven decked them both ; Yet one grew tall and beauteous to behold, The other drooped and died, Its beauty all untold. The dews that decked the one to bloom, But decked the other for the tomb ; What mystery in their growth ! II. Shadows were they of something real, Shadows which none may ever see. But every heart may feel. The light oi' heaven bathed them both. The dews of heaven decked them both, And both were wrapped in mystery ; Vet ona was doomed to sturdy growth, - The other doomed to die ! And who may ask the reason whv ? Having been something, can they be Nothing to all eternity ? 38 KvKs That Ark Uskd to Wkkpixci. I. P\Ks that are used to weepini;- Throug-h lonely hours oi' ijloom, And silent vii^ils keeping* O'er a loved but hopeless tomb ; I^Vom beyond Lite's dusky curtain, From the shore of the dim unknown — Where vague shadows flit uncertain — Comes a message all thine own : " The deeper becomes the measure » Of the cup of grief you drain, The larger the draught of pleasure For you it may contain." 39 Ca u a did n Mc/o ({/\ \s . II. Hearts that arc used to lireaUitiir O'er vinvs tliat ha\e come to naught, That, in hopeless silence achiiii--, With pain are o\ erfraiiiiht ; Thou^rh Life's taper be dimly burniiii;-, So that shadows faintly fall. There comes throiioh this vale of mournin*; A spirit \oice to all : "The deeper becomes the measure Of the cup of i^rief you drain, The laro^er the drauoht of pleasure For you it may contain." 40 '■\ i On, TiioL- Hast Wkpt Loxti. i. Qu, thou hast wept louses yet thy heart is still achiiii^r ; There are tears that ne'er fall, lliouj^li the sad heart be breaUiiii;- ; And that hrioht day o( hope— all too soon 'tis passed o'er And the li--ht of thy life has gone out evermore. II. When the heart is left lonely there's naUi^Hu can atone : Tlunit^h a nation weep with thee -thou weepest alone ; And thine is a sorrow too deep e'en for tears To relieve the lone heart throu^^Hi the desolate years. 41 L " 0\ (. ■Miadian Melodies. III. VV e are told that a i^oddess owcq dwelt here below, Who, for some sad mischance, was doomed ever to woe ; And her tears, as they tell on this cold world of ours, Sprin-inir up from the dust, bloomed in brig-ht frai,M-ant flowers. IV. And oft have I g-azed on those sad eyes of thine, Where beauty's soft lustre seems ever to shine, ' And have thouoht that the tears of the just ma'v vet bloom In trai^-rance and beauty beyond the dark tomb.' ' 42 Transition. I. j AROSE at that dim-lined hour, When the dav and the morninir meet ; And I passed by the city tower, Far, far throu<;-h the dusty street. And I went by meadows and fountains Till I came where frownin*;- hii,''h, A rang-e of towerin*^ mountains Hid their summits in the sky. n. But a troubled spirit led me, Lured by some j^-uidiiii;- star. And o'er the dim iieii^hts sped me, To sunset realms afar ; So with yearnin<;- and strife that seemed ever To be linked with toil and pain, I crossed with a mii^hty endeavor. And passed beyond in the plain. 4:> if Canadian Melodies. in. And a nameless terror hound me As I i.'-azed on those earth-born spires, Which, towerini^- above and around me, Seemed wrapped in lurid fires ; And a spirit o{ doubt passed o'er me, And I murmured with half-bowed head, " Hath ever a mortal before me Crossed over a height so dread ? " rv. [if •'! Hut on I passed, unheedin"". Throu^^h the noontide's ebbing- light, While, ever behind me recedint^- S'uik the mountains lessening- heig-ht; Till at last 'neath the distant heaven,' The scarce seen crests upreared In the purple waves of even, Sank i\o\\\\ and disappeared. III 44 Canadian Melodies, ill' s. % V. I arose at that dim-lined hour, When youth and manhood meet, But Grief and o'erwhehning- power Cast her burden at my feet; And it rose like a mountain dreary, And my heart was faint within, For my soul grew sick and weary In a world of death and sin. VI. Hut with yearning- and strife that seemed c\ cr To be linked with toil and pain, 1 crossed with a mighty endeavor And passed beyond in life's plain ; And as the broad noon was sinking I beheld in the distant light The g;iant mountain shrinkintr And fading on mv sii^ht. ■^> ' 45 Canadian Melodies, VII. Now the sunset shadow lengthens, While the light of evening fails, And the holy calm which strengthens The worn out soul prevails ; And I look to the distant heaven. Where the mountain late upreared, And lo, in the purple even It hath almost disappeared ! 46 {-J I The Mystery of the Sea. I. "THE g-ood ship cleared the harbor bar, And a fair west wind was blowing-; The misty mainland, stretching- far. O'er the sunlit sei? was glowing-. II. And the captain paused as the deck he paced, While visions of home came o'er him ; And a weeping- mother his fancy traced In the scenes that passed before him. m 47 \l '1 ' Canadian Melodies, III. And in the cabin with tiny hands Two children together were playing-, While a weary mother in mission lands, Heart-sick for them was praying. IV. Years passed— so long, so lone the time Since the good ship had departed, And in Columbia's sunny clime Died a mother, broken-hearted. V. Years passed— and a mother forlorn, alone, Aweary with waiting and sighing. Afar in India's burning zone Lay, broken-hearted, dying. ':>? I VI. And the cruel, restless, rolling ocean Complains its bitter part ; But oh, far down 'neath the waves wild motion Lies the grave of many a heart ! 48 Faith. Jhou hast seen how a ring- in its clasp may enfold A diamond more dazzling, more precious than -old • And the gem to the ring gives a lustre more brigh't. Like the glance from the eye of an angel of light. II. Thus Faith is a ring, we may see in its grasp A gem more resplendent than gold may enclasp ; Tis the Pearl of great Price set by Heaven above In that ring is the gift of obedient love. 49 A Lament. (From an iinpublishtd Drama written in early life.) I. r^xcK Hg-htly I roamed o'er these green fields and meadows ; As bright as my future all things seemed to shine ; And in the clear heavens there hovered no shadows, For all seemed a realm of glory divine. II. Now changed is this realm— all bliss has departed, And chill does the river of life seem to flow ; In these meadows and moors, where I wandered light-hearted. Naught, naught can I trace but a region of woe. Canadian Melodies, in. Now in the bright woodland the sweet birds are sin.nnjr The.r notes in soft concord float through the cah^ air' ; While Ml deepest distress now my sad heart is wringing- And ever must throb 'neath a burden of care. IV. My heart, that once beat with a rapid emotion Now droops like the vine in the winter's cold blast • Its tendnls have withered, and wearv its motion. As the dirg-es, recoiling, sweep moaningly past lows ; V. Xo more o'er the days of my childhood I'll ponder No more o'er those scenes which I once held so' dear • but, with gnef my allotment, I'll drearily wander Life's dark vale of gloom but a while— yet fore'er arted. VI. The sunbeams they come-but they melt not my sadness ; The bright buds they ope but they mock with their bloom ; For ah ! the next time that they bloom in their gladness, 1 hey 11 bloom but to fade on my desolate tomb. SI Emiier PrcTrRKs. I. \A/hen silence and darkness fling their chain O'er life's contemplative hour, And our thoui;hts, in a dream-like mazy train, Flit off to memory's bower ; There's a lingering- breath of a faint perfume, That in madness we love to cherish. Like a flower in bloom on a sepulchral tomb, That is hopelessly doomed to perish. w 52 Cauiidiim Melodies. II. We iing-er a while in this maj^nc spell, By the weirdness of thou^^ht enchanted, Till ghostly phantoms rise and swell. And the soul is vision-haunted. But the charm enthralls us like a swoon ; In its sweetness we love to lani,>-uish, Thouirh the shrivelled heart, like the waning- moon, Sinks down in hitter anj^uish. m HI. But when from the mind we deii^n to fliui,'- This shadowy, death-like le^i^non, Why do our thouj^hts in ardor clinir To that ^^hastly peopled re^non ? There's a spirit within -the chainless soul- That points to the world o{ spirits ; And a destiny great, beyond mortal control, That the soul itself inherits. .■>.> "■"^p A Li-xiKxp OF Dkai) Max's Lakf:. "Dead Man's Lake is a loiu-ly s\n-c\ oi' water Kin- in a desolate region of the Indian Peninsula, In-tween Lake Ifuroi, and T.eorKian l>ay. It is situated in a forest of dead pines and heniloeks, hIiKhteil by bush fires lon^^ before the memory of anv hvin^ .nan, and this adds materially to the desokition of an ah-eadv drearv region of swamp and roek. The foHowin.^; legend is based on tradition, and the Ir.diaiistotliis day l>eHeve that the I)ody of the murdered rhic-f hes witli upturned faee at the button; of the lake.'- Anv>n. I. ^AD vale of death tlial moaneth drearv, As if weii^-lud "iieatli a hurdeti i^C eare, l<:ven the sun shines cold, and his beams wax weary In thy \a--;:.nt shadowless air ; And the \\ inds o'er the htvast of thy lone lake sweeping-, Hear eclu-tes tVi^n the tomb, And thy desolate pines their death-wateh keepino-, b.\er whisper this tale of" i-Ioom : 57 Poems. II. l.on^ years nj^'-o, (so Ion*,'- that in tolling-, A weary tale 'twould make) An aged chief with his tribe was dwellini-- On the shore of this desolate lake. Hut life then bloomed here, and in beautv tender The wild-flowers lifted their eyes. Till it o-leamed like a vale of magic splendor Just fallen Irom the sunset skies. in. Here Wenonda dwelt in this vale of water, Till the Spirit-voice should call. And with him Alissa his dusky daughter Loveliest of maidens all. And many a chieftain fain had woo'd her, - From distant lands they came Hut in \-ain they sought, for none who viewed The light oi' her smile could claim. her 3« p. ocms. IV. None, none sjivc a kinsman K>nt^- since cherished, In life's hrij^-Iu morninj^'- scene, Now all but the memory had perished Oi what they once had been. Hut Alissa ott in silence pondered O'er the voice that spoke her fate, And Oneydo where'er his footsteps wandered, Hore a heart half lo\e half hate. V. For a Spirit-\oice had come w ith its warnini;- With words that deeply warn,- "From the distant land of the rich-robed mornini;-, From the clime where the sun is born, A chieftain shall come to this vale oS. water. In a chieftain's state and pride. To woo W'enonda's lo\eIy dauj^hter. And bear her awav as his bride." 59 SI iii p ocms. VI. ThcMi sinkin^r low, the voice i,Te\v dimmer That tell ow Wenonda's ear Till it blent with the breeze and the wan star's shimmei When the midnii^-ht hour i^-rew near. And the chieftain fbr^^ot that warning- never, And the maid and the kner knew I hat all was o'er yet in silence e\er Ivach heart to the other beat true. Thus many moons arose, and waninir, (ia\e place to other moons, Till ow^ nii^'-ht o'er the I.ake a lone star reiirnin^- Swuni^^ low, and then eftsoons Came ai^ain that Voice throui,'-h the dim air tailing- Well imderstood by one, And Wenonda went at its mvstic callin^>- To the land of the settinp- sun. 60 p ocms. I miner VIII. Now, the wiiitiiii^- \o\\^ and the ani^uish ended, Came Oneydo o'er the tide, And ere two moon's a^'-ain ascended Claimed Alissa as his bride. Then each day sped on, as an ans^el j^olden Had passed with heaminj^^ eves, While yet in whose rich-dyed n>bes are holden The airs oi paradise' IX.. At leni^'-th from the land of ocean currents. Where mists were born of old. From beyond the twin streams'* mii^htv torrents, Came a strans^er chieftain bold. Of i^iant form, and with dark eye j^Ianciiii^-, And visa^-e t^-rim and sere, - The somber plumes o'er his dun brow dancinir Dropped shadows boding- fear. The Ottawa ami St. Laurencu rivers were thus referred to h> the liuliaiis. 6i p ocnis. To Oneydo ho came as some dreaded token, VoY which naui^-ht can win surcease ; b'ew deeds were done, few words were snoken, — They smoked the pipe of peace. But over that vale passed an unseen power Three times with the setting- sun,- - Then bv that still lake at the midnii^ht hour, A murderous (\qq<\ was done. X!. Tprose the sun in heaven's vault slowly - All hid in mist, full soon The stars shrank back, and, sweepiui,^ lowly, I.ow dipped the horned moon. But Alissa was i^'-one throug-h the vale they sought her. And the stranger chief was ^onc ; False, false was the heart o^ Wenonda's daughter - Bovh fled with the breaking- dawn. 62 Poems. XII. And the still, broad lake its secret keepiiii^r, Lay hushed and mute tor ave ; But in its depths in silence sieepini,-- Oneydo lowly lav. None knew but War's dark tempests lowered, And broke with fiery mood, When the moon her W^h^ o'er the dim vale showered Her beams were red as blood. XIII. Loni,*- warred the war with fri<,'-htful slauohter Lonif and dismal was its reii^ni, Till dyed with blood was the vale of water, And many a chief was slain. Still Hatred reii^-ned her furv never Abated till, came the dav When WV^nonda's tribe had passed fore\ er From the haunts of men awav. \- It 63 Poems. XIV. Now aj^es have passed, and the vale Hes lonely - Xor sig-n ol life is there, And the blasted pines are standini,"- only In the cold and lifeless air. ^'et oft when the midnight tempests lower A phantom cloud low swini^s. Then is heard o'er the I.ake at that solemn hour The flap o\' invisible wing's. XV. The deer to his nig-ht-bound haunts, unheeding, Should he pass by this desolate Lake, Hut quickens his pace, and taster speeding" His phantom-llight doth take. And the wild g^eese southward or northward hying, If they pass o'er this \ale in their flig-ht, Turn their course, till hig-her and higher flying, Thev are lost to the searchinir siirht. 64 p ocms. X\'I Well the rod man kmnvs the dismal storv Knows where Oneydo lies ; He hath seen his corse all pale and s^orx Lookini; helplessly up to the skies ; And to hurnini^- rai^'e tore\ er fated, He is doomed to endless woe ; I''or there must he lie till N'en-eanee is sated, I'>e rest his spirit can know. 65 Thk Vigil.* (A Koniiumt of tlic kite Rebellion in llic I'.S.A. Thi- Southern sun with his deep flood o( lii^ht Was slowly sinkini^, and the moated tide Hiinir heavy o'er the diiskv brow of niiiht. Along- the gilded west rose far and wide A range oi^ hills ; a vale on either side Where rich magnolias g-rew, stretched far adown ; And in this hollow vale might be descried, Where long" the rose and hyacinth hath blown, A modest cabin's roof with woodbine overgrown. ■A siniil.ir story has been told by Francois Coppec in a French poem bcarinj; the same title. 66 p, 00)1 s. II. Within this cabin, k.m\ a summer's eve, Tpon a couch a wounded soldier lay ; Propped up beside a window to relieve His achin^r brow, he watched the dvin^- day. Anon his eyes would follow faraway The burnished dove disport on <,HIded wini,r. Then nearer the o-ay oriole swoop at phi'y ; And heard the while the merrv mock-bird sin- Till Slumber o'er his brow her leaden chain would fling-. III. Then in fond dreams his Fancy oft would trace His Northern home beside the windin- stream A mother's fervent kiss and long- embracJ. A sister's streaming- tears, or the mild beam Of fairer eyes, where love-lit thougHus would seem To melt m tears. Oh, pictured vision bright ! Too soon to fade, ~ g-one with the lleethi- dream l.ike shootmg- stars that fade awav in night And leave no trace behind to mark th'eir sucklen flig-ht 67 Poems. IV. Oft would lie start in wild delirium, And i;rasp with tVcn/icd hand tho fancied blade, As if he heard the rei^imental drum Sounding to arms ; for dire Fever preyed Upon his yount;- life's blood, and oft betrayed That Death with dragon mouth stood yawnini^- nigh, laager to seize his prey, nor would be stayed By Art's hrm hand or I'ity's tear-dewed eye, l-Voni his dread course, fell Demon of eternity. V. And as the fitful dream o( parting life Thus came and went, there watched beside The dying soldier's couch o^ pain and strife A gentle maid. In eager haste she tried. As oft would rise and ebb life's surging tide. To check the pulse, to soothe the heart's distress, To minister the potion that would hide Anguish and pain in deep forgetfulness ;-^- Irene performed the while such task o^ tenderness. 68 p ocnis. Vf. ;1^ Mors was an aspect sino;ularIy niilj, With radiant brow doL-p-archcd, obscurclv clear, And dark allVaycd eyes, hair-moels, half-wild,' That told the fount i>f pity welHnj,'- near. Twice i^-axed you on tliat face ere 'twould appear That Time had all too early cast his pall O'er the bri-ht blooms that N'outh and Heautv wear ; I'or min-Ied there hope, -rief, doubt, fear, and all I hat turn the human heart to tenderness or ^nW. VII. The day declined, ni<,Hu's dusky mantle fell. And evenin^r's hush lay li-hted sank a^'-ain, And ^a-ntiy swept the barren plain ; And Summer, stirred by some stran^-e force, Strai^'-ht to the Northland took her course. ' sed lAXTO II. Hut once upon a certain time, Kre Winter visited that clime, Two idle g-eese were babblinj^ by, And little recked the frog- was n'i^h. They talked of climes so far away, Where Summer holds eternal swav. They talked of pearly skies serene,' Of woods forever robed in green. Of sunny ponds and fairy bog-s,— The panidise oi sing-ing- frogs. Then talked they oi their journey thither, And prayed that they mig-ht have fair weather. The frog all meekly sat the while, Then deignied to ask with winning smile, Si IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I ,>'. 132 m • 40 IIIIM III 1.8 1.25 1.4 JA ^ 6" — ► V] <^ /a % /a 0/7'- /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WCST MAIN STREIT WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 iV iV ^^ o % v ^> f?^^ '"o^ 6^ V^ '%'■ ?\? 6^ Poems, ri While visions of those tempting" skies Floated before his dazzled eyes : *' Where is that land, most potent bird ? Of it, good faith, I've never heard. Pray, let me follow, when once more You bend your course to that fair shore Where Winter never dare intrude To cast his spell of solitude." At this the geese laughed loud and long, A hissing laugh that checked the song The frog had formed deep in his throat, - That song died in one gurgling note. And then the elder of the birds Addressed the frog the following words : "Thou silly elf, pray understand 'Tis many a league unto that land, And should'st thou e'er presume to go Hy single jumps and hops so slow, Why, sure old age would overtake Thee ere thou'd reach the fairy brake." At this the frog at once began : *' I've hit upon a novel plan. We'll pluck some grass from yonder slope, And firmly twist it in a rope, 82 Poems, Twill do, I think, with single fold, Then at each end you may take hold. And I will grasp the middle tight, A goose at both my left and right, We'll cleave the upper air so light." The frog scarce finished ere 'twould seem The geese consented to the scheme. They both affirmed with one accord Such wisdom they had never heard ; Fitting the action to the word. They soon were sailing through the skies, Bound for the southern paradise. The frog swung on the grassy rope, And did not deign his mouth to ope. They travelled over many a rood Of bush and brake and solitude. At length a farmer, half amazed, Spied them aloft in mid-air raised. And much he wondered as he gazed. And loud the wise device he praised. And asked whose wisdom 'twas had planned The wondrous scheme his vision scanned. The frog, in whose own estimation, Centred the wisdom of creation, 8' Poems, Could not the rustic's praise pass by, Opened his mouth and shouted ** 1 I " Scarce had he risked his mouth to ope, When slipped his jaws from off the rope, And, like an arrow from a bow, He dashed upon the rocks below. Thus died the frog — was ever fate so dread ? And to the realm of shades his spirit sped. MORAL. .\11 ye who read, whatever be your state, Bear well in mind the frog's unhappy fate. Hovv wi:ie you deem yourself, how great a seer, 'Tis vain to boast, the world cares not to hear. There's danger oft in speech, be well aware-- The cloak of wisdom is not hard to bear. 84 Imprompti'. (Suffgostcd on seeing a vain lady Razing at herself in a njirri>r.) AZE fondly on thy mirrored face, And there thine imagfed beauty trace ; But if, perchance by magic art. That mirror could portray thy heart, Down to the dust the g^Iass thou'dst fling, That could portray so vile a thing ! 85 fe t Horace; Ode ix., Book in. HORACE. While I could thy soul inflame, And no other dared thee claim, Persia's monarch could not be Half so blest as I with thee. LYDIA. While I flamed thy soul's first fire, Ere Chloe could thy soul inspire, Such heavenly glory then was mine, As Ilia's fame could not outshine. 89 Translations, \ ;.l 1 ;M:I^| Pfl HORACE. True, Chloe now does claim a part, And with her lyre sways my heart ; For her, my soul's loved consort mine, All to death would I resig-n ! LYDIA. For me sweet Calai's spirit burns, And love for love 7ny soul returns. Twice would I death's ^rim terrors dare, That fates my g'entle youth should spare ! HORACE. Should love's delicious dream again. Fling round our souls that golden chain, And Chloe hence depart fore'er. That chain again would Lydia wear ? LYDIA. Thou, fair as Hesperus of heaven ; Thou, light as is the breath of even. Yet rasher than the impetuous sea, I would live and die with thee ! 90 Horace, Ode xvi., Book hi. Jhe brazen tower on Argo's shore, With turret hi^'-h and bolted door, And watchful dojr.s in ambuscade, Had well secured the enamored maid. But Jupiter— as fates foretold Descendin^r in a shower of jrold, Allured the guards such sii,'-ht to see. And thus fulfilled the dread decree ; ' For well 'twas known no human power Could e'er withstand the temptin- shower. Oh g-old ! whate'er be thy delight, Must yield to thy resistless might '; 9' Translations, Kven faithful j>fiiards for thee retire, And, perjured, own their base desire ; And walls of stone that have defied The wrath of Jove, are hurled aside. 'Tis known by thy resistless sway. The charms of beauty melt away. And gates divide, and tyrants fall, And shattered yields the embattled wall. Kingdoms to endless night are hurled, And Ruin rages o'er the world. The insatiate thirst for gaining more. But adds to wealth's increasing store, — Then, oh, Miecenas, pride of Rome, Whose banners wave o'er Freedom's home, Care not for pomp and splendor great, For 3"old can give — but cannot sate ; He who temptation's power defies, Shall gain from heaven what earth denies. Far from this vain and idle show, In humble guise I love to ^Oy Escaping all the toil and pain Of those who care for naught but gain, And in some simple, rustic cell. In sweet contentment seek to dwell ; 92 Translations. What more to me could Fate consi^rn, If all Apulia's stores were mine? The silver stream, the silent ^'rove, With myrtle bowers interwove, The yellow corn-field's g-olden sheen, The g-ardens fair, the meadows j,'reen, These, these are pleasures all unknown To him who holds a jewelled throne. Happy am I, thouj^h not for me Sweet nectar hives the laboring,' bee. Nor can 1 claim the clusterin},^ vine, Or Formian casks of ripeninjf wine, Nor e'en the verdant Ciallic mead. Where flocks in snowy whiteness {m^C^ ; Yet what can gilded wealth impart? — It yields but flattery to the heart. He whose desire is e'er for more. Feels worse the pang of being poor, - But blest is he whom God has given With sparing hand the gifts of heaven. 93 11 ■-,, 1^^ HoMFRic Garlands^ II. IAD I. 43-52. T'liLs spake the old man, prayini,'-, and Phcvbus Apollo did hear him, — Down from the heig-hts o( Olympus the jjfod, in ang-er, descended ; Over his shoulders were flung the dreadful bow and the quiver Bristling with arrows, that rattled as onward he moved in his anger : Gloomy as night he went, and aloof from the Greeks' broad encampment Sat down in silence, then forth flashed the bow and swift sped the arrow— : ' This is hut a fochle attompl to reproiiuce IIihikt in liis own majestic Hexameter. Our lan^fuapc contains too many monosyllahles to he cast successfully in this rhythm ; hence we can tfive hut a taint echi>oftlu' dash ami roar of old Hi.mer's lines. The passaffes here reproduced, like most literary f,'cms, lose much of their luster when taken from the settings in which the master has placed them. 94 Translations. I.0U.1 thereupon rose ,l,e twanj,. of the siKer IxnVs dreaU- till reboundin^ir— "'c.iu- Disn„..,^b,^ ,,i,„t narecl the ,.,ean,i„,. red of the funeral ILIAD 1. 528-539. Spake the son of Kronos, the while with his darl< hrows nodding'- assent^- Straij^htway a„,brosial locks did strean, fron, the head of tnc c>overeiirn, How at that nod did mlwluv Olvm,^,. 11 T.^enthe,didpart.a";:r;::tirrs counciled tOi,'-ether •^<-><^n> ''^ "^C:;:^"'"^ ''' '''-''' ""''-''- ^'^-^^-^ --^ ti- Zeus to ,.. p^dace went, and the ,ods a„ at one acco.d Rose from their seats to^^ether, and st s^reat Sire— 'tood at si^rht ^,f j|,^.jj. 95 Translations, \ None durst abide his comiiii,^ then Zeus in their midst, i^oinj^ straii^htvvciy, Sat on his throne : but Here had seen all, and knew what had happened, Know that silver-foot Thetis had been with her husband entreating — Thetis, that child o^ the old Sea Man, had held with him council - With heart-cuttini,^ words she spake, the son of Kronos addressini^. t' IIJAI) 111. I-14. Now, when drawn up by its leaders each army was mar- shalled for battle, Forth moved the Trojan host with clani^or of arms and with shoutini^. Like to the cryiui,^ and clamor of cranes from ox\ hii^h when escaping:: Wintry storms they tly southward over the streams o{ the ocean - Fi^-htint,- and min^HiniC aloft in the air in dire contention - Bringinl,^ bloodshed and death to the pii^my races oi man- kind : 96 mar- Translatiotis. Hut silently went the Greeks, hreathiny destruction and hatred, Mindful, each in the pendini,^ combat to aid ow^i another. Like when Notos, the south wind, pours down a mist o'er the mountain Dreadful to shepherds but always more pleasinj^- to thieves than the ni^Hitfall, And one can see as far as a stone may be hurled, in the darkness, — Thus then the turbulent dust arose 'neath the feet of the warriors Rose in the air from the earth, as throuirh the vast plain they swept onward. ILI.AD VI. 146-149. As bloom the leaves of the trees, so spring,- the races oi mankind — Scattered for aye are the leaves by the blasts oi ^^^^^ a.itumn, Vet do the trees bloom anew when sprino-.time returns in her .t^lory, Buddini; anew, but to wither and fall with the blasts of the autumn ; Thus are the races of man- now bloom they, and now they lie scattered. 97 Translations. ILIAD VI. 466-580. Thus spake illustrious Hector, and stretched forth his arms to take fondly His son ; but the boy, seized with dread, shrank back to his fair nurse's bosom, Crving-, shrank back, scared thus at the si^'ht o'i his helmeted father. Fearful was he oi the horse-hair plume o'er the dread helmet wavinj^^. Then did the fond parents smile at the babe, and illustrious Hector Quickly removed from his head the i^litterin^ helmet, and placed it Gleaming upon the i»-round, then received he his dear child and kissed him. Playfully tossin"^ him up, he prayed thus to all the im- m ortah " Hear me, O Zeus, and ve other i^ods, irrant that mv son may be honored, Honored for valorous deeds as I 'mong the Trojans am honored ! Grant him to rule with mig-ht over Troy, and may he here- after \ 98 Tratislatious. I Greater be called than his father ! Grant, that he wh en returning*" Homeward from battles well foiii,'-ht, may bear rich spoil trom the conquered, Cheerintr the heart of his mother with deeds <>i valor and i^^lory I 99 The Dying Slavk ^^' (From the iiUrodiiction to a Greek prize ode.) T EAVE thy pites of darkness, Dei ;h, Come to take my fleeting- breath ; Haste, oh, haste to set me free!-- Fettered thus to misery. II. Thou shalt not be greeted here With pallid cheek and g^ushing- tear- Here no funeral ululation, Sound of woe or lamentation. "^The slaves of the West Indies considered death as a passport to their native country. lOO Translations. in. Gloomy Genius though thou be, Vet thou chvellest with Liberty ; Here but the encirchiii^ dance shall ^^reet thee, Noui»-ht but soni^-s of joy shall meet thee. IV. Thine no ^^loomy, lone dominion, — Haste thee on thine ebon pinion ; O'er the swellin*^ ocean speed me — To my long- lost home, oh, lead me! V. There 'neath the shadv citron LTove, By limpid fountains lovers rove. And there, to loved ones tell again The heartless deeds of fellow men. I lOI Thk Lorelei. (From the Gcnnan of Ilcino.) I KNOW not what it presag-es, This sadness of my heart; — A tale of bygone ages I'Vom my mind will not depart. n. The air is cool and is darkling-, And softly flows the Rhine ; The crest of the mountain is sparkling In the evening's calm sunshine. I02 Translations. m^ '«• Vonder at case reclinin| Sits a maiden wondrous fair, Her golden jewels shining, As she combs her golden hair. m With a golden comb she is combing, And she sings a sad, sweet song, That through the quiet gloaming. So strangely floats along ! V. \ \ t The doomed in his shallop speeding, Is seized with a pang of woe ;-^ He drifts on the rocks, naught heeding, Save the mountain crest aglow. VI. Alas ! 'neath the waves in their madness. The sailor and boat are p-one •- - And this, with her song of sadness, The Lorelei has done. lo-? The Two Streams. (Adapted from the Italian of Metastasio.) Oiiella onda chc ruina. Y ON stream that dashes down the Alpine lui^ht, Complains its fate, and struggles in its course, Till dashed to spray by its impetuous force, It sparkles like a diamond-shower bright. II. Another stream, in hidden vale apart. Courses its slumbrous way, and ne'er may know The lustre bright— the full-tide diamond glow. Its depths might yield to glad the aching heart. 104 ii o\v