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[H-iK-^^ett An'Y^i'C kh'L<^i'^-'-f5 I V.J-' H A IV» I l-T O N PRINTED AT THE " SPECTATOR " STEAM PRESS, PRINCS'S SQTJARB. M.DOOC.LXIII. 1 c U o 5 »i ,/ A Glan* Jilfreda il. Moth In \p3 A Relic 4 Wcle Sixrial < i^Uio . "•(jhrUt ^Joleraii ^ Come $/rimea Ofeath ( i>eath Death < Dfoatli'i Svelyn yestiv Festiv Flowe Froze Funer Glory Hallo Isabe INDEX. 1 PAGE. A Crimean Scene ', 33 A Glance ot" Lite 174 Alfreda to Seller 28 A Motlier'8 Sabbath Prayer, etc 166 Jin ApDdlroplie ovc-r the Grave of Brant 165 A Relic of ltn«siun Warfare 92 A Welcome to the I'rince of Wales ^l StJtrial of the Unknown 106 SurieU with Music 31 iJuMiii Ul **"Chri!5t08 Voscres " 45 €oieraine 168 •^Come Quickly " 78 Crimean Trophies 12 Beath of an Ennlskillen Officer 143 Death of Captain Vicars 116 Beat h of King Henry H 61 e»oath's Prize 150 Svelyn'» Love il her Deathbed 112 Ei»emng Prayc • .hiring Lent 194 Sphraim ISS ^*- Far Better " 122 festival of St. John tho Baptist 103 Festival of St. Jolm the Evangelist 110 Flower* for Prince Albert's Coffin 16 Frozen to Death 161 Funeral at Sea 133 Glory 200 Hallow E'en 185 llyKin for Advent 24 Isabella of Valois 84 \ 11. INDEX. PAGE. King I'Alwiii and the Thane 126 Lake Ontario at J^unset. Litrht fiO 80 Lines to u Friend 199 Lord Harold 8 F. rewcU 180 Marching' Song of the 13th Battalion 166 Midnight 134 MuHic at Midnight ." 11 Nina in the Dungeon of Rienzi 18 On an Old IMcture U On a Tablet, etc 168 On the Desjardiirs Catastrophe 58 On vif.wing the Planet Mercury 26 Our Cottage Wall s 56 Our Father's Grave 73 " Passetii Away " U5 Prayer for the Absent 97 Queen Victoria at the Nuptials of her Son 7 Rockbay 68 Room lor the Dauntless 62 Sabbath Bells at Sea 196 " Semper Paratus " 143 Soldiers' Children, etc 42 The Bridegroom's Reverie 88 The Brother's Remembrance 47 The Cities of Old 89 The Coming Election 87 The Cross on the Carpet 140 The Desolate Funeral 173 The Dirge of LlewUyn 94 The Dying Girl 82 The Emigrant's Dying Boy 190 The Knsign Martyr 75 The Forest Stream 64 Tlie Freemason's Burial 66 The Indian Chief. 192 The Little Child 101 The Missionary's Valedictory 198 The Officer's Farewell 128 The Pilgrim's Song of Confidence 116 The Pirate of Ceylon 176 The Poet's Evening Prayer 104 The Pra I The Prli I The Pro 5 The Qu( : Tht! Qut The Ue( The Rui V The Sob The Syn The Vol "Thou " Thy F Under i Vain D I Waiting Welcon PAGE. .. 126 . . 50 . . 80 . . 199 . . 180 . 166 . 134 . n . 18 INDEX. ill. PAQK. The Prairie Flower 164 The Prince of Wales at tlie Tomb of Waslilngton 54 The Procliffars Return 10 The Queen's Picture 35 Tiie Queen's Prayer 136 The Request of the Maniac Sailor 184 The Ruins of Copan . 98 The Soldier of Auvergne 102 The Symbnl 171 The Voice of the Sun 120 "Thou art with Me" 40 " Thy Father's Fri»'nrl " 153 . 14 . 168 . 68 . 26 . 66 . 73 Under the Snow 124 Vain Dreams 138 Waiting for the Bell to Ring 131 Welcome Home 70 Ql THE ACACIA. QUEEN VIOTOPwIA AT THE NUPTIALS OP IIKR SON. " Who cnlled thee BJrotif? as Death, O, Love, MigliUer thou wnst mid iirt."— IIkmanb. There was pomp and regal beauty, The glittering of gems, The flashing of the jewelled crowns, The light of diadems, Collars of gold and gleaming swords Shone amid robes of state, Where all that head and hands devise On Albert Edward wait. There were Denmark's royal princes And fair and gentle ones. There were England's martial veterans, And England's stalwart sons, And loyally and proudly Beat hearts amid the scene, But oh ! through all the pageantry Where was our English Queen ? The hand that wields the sceptre, The form that fills the throne, Why stays she from the gorgeous throng, A woman, and alone ? Why flits the smile so sad and sweet. As with a weight oppressed ? Why is the heart so strongly schooled Within that widowed breast ? 8 THE ACACIA. She fears not that the traitor Lurks in her loving host, She knows that strength and faithfulness Guard well her rockbound coast — She glances on her first-born son, She hears their plighted vows, Where by him Alexandra, Child of t^ ^ sea kings, bows. What thought the Queen Victoria, A silent watcher there, When the flower of British chivalry Paid homage to her heir ? When all this earth calls beautiful Passed by with joyous tread, ; 'Mid the gathering of her loving ones. He thoughts were on her dead. Why, ' lid the burst of anthems, Whe . the thrilling music rolls. Pell te rs from those fair princesses ? Wb t stirs their gentle souls ? Is it nu. enough for them— The beauty of those flowers, The joyous thrill of melody, The homage of those hours? Yes, yes ; but what were jewels, What the array that swept Around them as the memory woke, Of him who calmly slept ? THE ACACIA. They heeded not the gazing crowd, In that blest hour of pride, When the music woke anew to life, For Albert Edward's bride. They thought, those weeping daughters Of the pulseless hand that penned, The festive strains that gloriously To vaulted roofs, ascend. They thought that moment of the thorns Strewn in Hfe's wilderness — Their widowed mother stood alone, And they were fatherless. 9 ■FM Knights of the glowing orders, Soldiers who watchful wait, True patriots and star-gemmed peers, That nobly prop the state. Tell us if in the time to come, Of England's hopes and fears, You will deem her glory sullied By woman's loving tears ? Angels to earth which minister Tell us, with vow and prayer. Carried ye not the casket back Of tear-drops gathered there ; Did ye not find a fadeless flower, Grown in the human heart? ** Who called the strong as Death, Love, Mightier thou wast and art." '!.■ 10 THE ACACIA. THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN. " His father sow him and ran to meet him."— St. Lukb. " Father, I have sinned." — " My lost, my found, I knew it must be thou; From far I knew thee, oh ! thrice welcome back. Thou wentest forth in all thy pride and glee, But poverty and shame are in thy track, And pain has throned thy brow, — 'Tis over now." " Father, I have sinned." — " Let me gaze on thee, child, ah, want and pain Have stole the roses from thy lip and cheek ; But oh thy mother's glance is in thine eyes, So like her now, so suff'ring yet so meek ; A look thou never wore, In days before." ** Father, I have sinned." — " I know it all my son, but breathe not now The story of thy disobedient life ; Wait till the fever of that burning brow, Has slaked in home's sweet stream its fearful strife ; Come to this faithful breast, Dove, to thy nest." " Father, I have sinned." — " IV ) heard from that far country how my son, Hath filled the wine-cup in their marble halls ; THE ACACIA. 11 How mid the midnight revelry his voice rang out In maddened song around their echoing walls : Wild and undutiful, My own, my beautiful." ** Father, I have sinned." — *' I've heard it all, I know among the sons Of that far country, moved not one like mine, His step the fleetest and his generous soul Flashed in his eyes ; meet offering for a shrine, Where vulture lieaks could prey His life away." *' Father, I have sinned." — ^* Hush that low wail of bitterness, my child, Have we not mourned thee in thy native halls ? A silence there has been when thou wast glad, A vacant place within our banquet walls : Ring and robe wait for thee. And revelry." ** Father, I have sinned." " The proud horse that thy boyhood trained awaits Thy coming back ; the servants who did weep At thy estrangement, now are filled with joy ; The harp that hung untouched, now wakes from sleep, Come, we all love its sound ; My lost, my found." 12 THE ACACIA. CRIMEAN TROPHIES. [Written on the arrival of two Russian cannons at Hamilton.] They have brought us tokens from the field of conquest and of strife, The tokens of a war that quenched the light of many a life ; They have crossed the balmy southern plain, they have heard the ocean's roar, Stern looking emigrants arrived on our Canadian shored Speak, speak ye dark-complexioned guests and tell us all you've known — The joyous shout of victory, and the soldier's dying moan ; Tell us the thrilling tales of ranks that swept in glory by, Of the bayonets pointing earthward, of the banners half- mast high. Tell us of hostile threats poured forth around your iron forms, Of the burning noontide heat, of the midnight's drenching storms; ^ Tell us of your captivity when the wounded bear fell back, Of the watchings in the trenches, of the dying on the track ; Will not your iron lips divulge the memories of the past ? Ah yes, you have a mystic voice, there's a spell upon you cast. Telling us of the dauntless hearts who swept in glory by, Of poor England's suffering children, of proud England's victory. THE ACACIA. 18 Look on these trophies ye whose brows are ia the flush of youth, Soon 'twill be yours to keep the course of Liberty and Truth, And when the foeman claims your land, then meet him with the plea, That your fathers were no bondmen, and their children shall be free. Look on them, mothers, you have sons to train for freedom's right ; Their Httle hands must trim the lamp and keep it burning bright. Look on them sisters, manly forms like those ye love, have stood Round these Crimean relics, and have poured their heart*a rich blood. ^ Look on them ye whose gushing hearts boat loyally and true, For the honor of the flag that waves in Heaven's unfettered blue ; Ye freemen, guarding home and hearth, with mercy's honored laws. Ye soldiers, ready for the hour when duty pleads her cause. Remember Alma, Inkerman, and Balaklava's heights, The conflicts of those fearful days and the horrors of those nights, Then gaze on these memorials of that time of hopes and fears. Look on them with a glance of pride, Canadian volunteers. Let us look on them, one and all, and while we're gazing, kneel. And pray the God of battle to avert the death-armed steel; 4 THE ACACIA. Pray that the sound ot armiDg hosts through Christendom may cease, And the world may rest beneath the the wings of God's white dove of peace, When over valley, mount and sea the conquered tribes shall bring The power of music to awake its echoes for our King, When He shall reign triumphantly, around, beneath, above. His watchword in our camp be Peace, His banner o'er us Love. •% ON AN OLD PICTURE. It lies before me, pillar, wall, The portrait of that ancient hall ; I see the moon and stars on high, The rays of that All-seeing Eye, The figures ofthose glorious three — Faith, Hope, and Heaven-born Charity, The tesselated floor, the Square, The Bible, Compass, each is there. I know that once there proudly stood A love-united brotherhood, That there were kindred hopes and fears, Softened by kindred love and tears, IS THE ACACIA. That generous heart, and trusty hand, Waited the Master's high comraand^ Where, amid jewels richly set, The Lodge of *' Perfect Friendship " met. I do not know if in those walls, The tone of love still gently falls, Or if beneath the Holy Arch, A band of weary pilgrims march, Or beaming lamps give out their light Upon each installation night. While men, amid their blazonry. Work out the rules of Masonry. 15 i I know that of that elder band, Some have attained the better land, And changed the glories of that shore For pilgrim garb and chequered floor ; That for the rough uneven stone, That see the glowmg jasper throne, And for the Templar's battling strife, They rest beneath the *' Tree of Life." Oh ! *' Perfect Friendship," art thou found On any spot of earthly ground ? Tell me, ye devotees of Love, If earth below is Heaven above ? Though Heavenly flowers round ye twine, As ye are bending 'fore that shrine. Ye breathe upon it as ye bow, Ye crush the flowers as ye go. 16 THE ACACIA. Hope on, the deathless day shall spring, And builders hail their loving King ; How many a Judas shall be sent Forth in the captive's banishment; How many a gem unnoticed here, Shall glitter in that starry sphere, Where round the Lamb and Elders seat, The Lodge of " Perfect Friendship '* meet FLOWERS FOR PRINCE ALBERT'S COFFIN. They placed them on his coffin, 'Mid the sombre velvet's gloss, The pure camelia's snowy leaves, Sweet violets and green moss ; Upon the quiet limbs The glowing martial dress, Upon the pulseless, loving heart, The glittering crowns they press. Innocent children wove, Emblems of faith and hope, To mingle with the airs of death, Down in the vault's dim slope. Flowers his hands had trained, For his fair girls to wave, Now lie like him, shut out from light, Asking, alone, a grave. ^ THE ACACIA. 17 Any proud king may sleep With guards to watch his rest, ' With martial glory, starry crown, Above his quet breast; Velvet and silver gilt, O'er a false heart may lie, With arms reversed, and muffled drums, And banners half-mast higli. « But 'tis left for England's Prince To bear upon his bier, Signs of the resurrection morn, Dewed by affection's tear. Yes, woman's deathless love, Gives life to that dark scene ; They're fading on Prince Albert's bier, Wreathed by his widowed Queen. And was this all they twined, Answer, ye British hearts, That ever, in the hour of need, Have nobly borne your parts ! With tendril, leaf and flower, Those gentle fingers wove Their glorious nation's sympathies, Their nation's quenchless love. You love the form that stands At your mighty kingdom's head, You love the youthful Royal band, '- You've loved the Royal dead ; ^.•. ,i 18 TIIK ACACIA. 1\ Deeper nnd sadder ties Ask you to guard, to pray — From the widow and the fatherless, You will not turn away. Heraldic emblems, mould ! Tnrnisli, ye silver plates I Decay come down on velvet pile I Rust on tlie iron gates! WoVe hopes to spring to life When tliesc sweet buds are brown We shall behold, in glory set, Prince Albert's starry crown. Rise from the dust, sad hearts ; Over your head floats high, The Holy Lion of Palestine, Still pointing to tl:e sky ; From whence the Conqueror comes, Death at His chariot wheels, For Judah's Lion hath prevailed, To loose the binding seals. NINA IN THE DUNGEON OF RIENZL A trampling in the prison halls, Of guardsmen on the floor, The page is hurried to the cell. They close the captive's door. THE ACACIA. If Back flew the mantle from the breast, The nodding plumes fell low, The dark plumes that so well concealed That woman's throbbing brow. The prisoner ^azed in wondering doubt, Upon his midnight guest ; What did the glancing of those eyes Stir in the captive's breast ? The lips that in the judgment hall Seemed turned to molten stone, Burst in one pean of fervency — " Nina ! ray loved, my own." " Rienzi ? is it thus we meet, within a dungeon lone. Have they dared to cage Rome's eagle down unto a prison stone ? Look lip, beloved, a word of hope, thy Nina brings to thee; To-morrow's sun will soon arise, Rienzi will be free. Oh, Cola, thou art deudly pale, thy pulse is fierce and wild, Thy brow is deeply furrowed and thy sunny smile exiled; But in thine eyes' bright glance I read thy country's cause is thine. And by the folding of these arms I know thou still art mine. Thou ask'stby what chance I came to Avignon's tall towers, Chance, my Rienzi, could I stay in Prague's enticing bowers, Did I not tell thee, day and night, my steps should mark thy track, And I have vowed to give to Rome her angel guardian back,^ Nay, more, the gallant Count ot Albornez is here ; Ah I start not so, thou warrior, thou hast no cause to fear ; Gaze on, Rienzi, steadily, into thy Nina's eyes, There is no shadow of a cloud upon their summer skies. I THE ACACIA. Thou sayest iruo this sensual court, when yielding woman's woes, Or woman's beauty, just redress takes payment as it goes ; But, Cola, could I come to thee, and meet thy dark eyes* flame ; Did I not know that death to thee were dearer far than shame. Yes, Cola, he has knelt to me, his hand in mine hath lain, And his lips have breathed soft words of love, yes, breathed them all in vain ; And one of these dark curls, Cola, is the young Count's captured guest, They say 'tis cased in richest gold, and worn upon his breast. Thou cau'st not guess his magic power, it is alone through him, That I have won this boon for thee, to leave this dungeon dim ; But oh, he little dreams that Rienzi's love is here. Pride and ambition sway the heart of that triumphant peer. A hundred stately matrons wait his footsteps in their halls. And seek to win his courtly smile to grace their banquet walls, And a hundred of the loveliest girls of Italy's high-born. Are scheming how to snare the heart whose love I proudly scorn. But oh, Rienzi, dearest one, the time is flitting by. And I must leave thee once again for the free wind and the sky; No, no, not now, those words of love, breathe not of thanks to me, Rome needs thy glorious intellect, her tribune shall be free. THE ACACIA. 31 But when we meet, as meet wo must, within our palace home, When the Cavaliers have marshall'd thee with the gonfalons of Rome, When this heavy tempest has swept by, then dearest let me know, If aught thai J liave done for thee has eased thy weight of woe. ») Steps of the coming sentinel, The tolling of a bell, A warm embrace, a falling tear, A hurried fond farewell ; And out into the cold nitiht winds, The velvet maniln swept — Alas I for the sad heart it wrapped, The sadder one it left. A WELCOME TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. <( Blessed art thou, O iHtid, when thy Priuco is the son of nobles. Ring out the pean of joy, Echo it woods and vales, A song of welcome teach the skies, For Albert, Prince of Wales Welcome to the land of woods ; Welcome to the torrent floods : To the cities of the West, Sleeping on Ontario's breast ; 22 THE ACACIA. Welcome our Princely Chief To the land of maple leaf, Where of old the wild wolf lay, We have borne a Prince^to-day. Wave I wave the banner high, Breathe soft ye summer gales ; Gathei' your troops, ye warriors, Round Albert, Prince of Wales. By the mystic ties that band True hearts to their native land ; By the power that wakes to life In the hour of daring strife ; By the conquering might that gave Canada to free the slave ; By the loving tears once shed Round the dying patriot's bed. Welcome ! unto the band Whose loyalty ne'er quails — Ye veteran " Men of Gore " behold Your Albert, Prince of Wales. By the strong allegiance shown To Britannia's realm and throne ; By the pulses that are stirred When Yictoria's name is heard ; By the tide of love that rolls (Through the loyal subjects' souls) From the mother to her son, Welcome unto Hamilton. THE ACACIA. Music awake ! awake ! The song that never fails— '* God save the Queen," and bless her child, Young Albert, Prince of Wales. Youthful Prince, when England's isle Once more meets thy merry smile, Will thy kindly thoughts turn back To the wild Canadian track ? Yes, within thy heart shall wake Visions of the wood and lake ; Thou wilt keep within thy breast Memories of the distant West. Sun ! pour your brightest beams ; Stars ! when the sunset fails, Gild up a glorious path of light, For Albert, Prince of Wales. Noble Prince ! may He whose hand Led thee to this distant land, Shield thee from all woes and fears, Prosper thee for many years ; Guide thee o'er the waves of time. Safely to that summer clime, Where beneath the deathless boughs. Angels shall re-crown thy brows. Jehovah, nissi-guard The form thy nation hails ; Angels, keep watch around our guest. Loved Albert, Prince of Wales. 94 THE ACACIA. HYMN FOR ADVENT. «• Until he comes again."— St. Paul. Source of life and love, return ! Lamps of midnight dimly burn, 0*er the wide extended plains Sounds the clank of captive chains ; Earth can take no quiet rest, Yearning for her kingly guest. With the cherubim's bright train — King of Glory, come again ! Oh, we need thee 1 Loved things fail, Nature utters one sad wail, Green leaves vanish from the trees, Pestilence rides on the breeze, Blue waves chime a funeral knell, Slowly peals the passing bell ; Chase the blight from mount and plain- Eden's builder, come again ! Young limbs, cast in Beauty's mould, Sleep in Death's embraces cold, And we miss, in field and street, Comings of the well-known feet ; Oh ! relight the eye's soft beam, Thaw the frozen crimson stream ; Breathe new life to heart and brain— Deathless Manhood, come again ! THE ACAOIA. I i i Rosebuds, *neath the green leaf hid, Burst to deck the coffin-lid ; With the hero's prize there comes Minute-guns and muffled drums ; Midway 'twixi the earth and sky Flags are floating half-mast high ; Thou, who know'st death's last pain, ** Man of sorrows," come again ! Gird thy sword upon thy side ; O'er thy foes triumphant ride ; Millions wait thy trumpet's call, Watchmen stand on tower and wall Turn upon us thy fond glance, Claim thy own inheritance ; Oh ! let sin no longer reign — Conquering Victor ! come again. We have heard of flushing rivers, By whose brink the harp-string quivers; We have heard of dove-like wings, Folding from all fearful things. Earth is given to war and strife, But that shore to Love and Life ; Haste, sweet Prince ! count up thy train- Our Immanuei, come again ! a 90 THE ACACIA. ON VIEWING THE PLANET MERCURY. ft' Welcome bright stranger to our sky, Welcome our sister fair, How brilliant is thy gleaming eye, How bright thy golden hair. It is not often that we mark, Thy sparkling world so near, And muse upon the laws that rule, Thy small and distant sphere. Bright stranger, wilt thou speak no word, Thy sister's household band, Listen to catch thy mystic tones. Star of the serpent wand. Ah, what has passed upon thy breast, Since last thou lit our shore ; And what will lie upon our path, 'Ere thou art here once more ? A change we know must come on earth ; Nations must rise and fall ; The laugh must die ; the steps must cease, That sound through hearth and hall ; Ships must return, and sail, and sink ; Knights see their red fields won : 'Ere thou again wilt glimmer there, South of the setting sun. Egypt's famed towers are in the dust, Nineveh whispers peace ; The serpent's trail is on the wall, Of ancient, classic Greece ; THE AOACIA. They who baptised with proud delight, Thee, on Chaldean plain, Are cold and silent, while calm orb, Thou in thy pride doth reign. Two thousand years ago men stood Upon far Persia's hill. And gazed into the deep blue heavens, As we are gazing still ; Not to the south, not to the west, Where the sun's bright rays ceased, The eastern Magi knelt and blest, This bright star in the east. 97 Ah, when shall such a glorious sight. Gladden our aching eyes ; When shall such holy radiance stream Upon our clouded skies ; Would we not share with those of old, The trials of the way, To see that strange orb ^-est at last Where the sweet inf- it lay ? And is not yet that star our own, But for its beaming light. We should not stand admiring here, As we have stood to-night ; For knowledge, truth and science rare, Are in that blest Child's train, Nor shall we learn their length and breadth Till He shall come again. * THE ACACIA. Oh, shall we gaze as calmly then, Upon His star-wreathed brow ; And on the darkness gathering round, As we are watching now ? How strangely beautiful to mark, The dying of the world, While sun and moon and sister stars, Into waste void are hurled. Go, Mercury, to thy worlds of light, The bosom of the sun Is a calm resting-place for thee, As thy short race is run ; Go, Mercury, earth is yet our own, We've blessings from afar ; Go, Mercury, we have lost thy lights In Bethlehem's star. ALFREDA TO SEILER, ON THE MORNING OF THEIR SEPARATION. Wi'W' >T was the daughter of a Britsih prince within her island home, 'T was the leader of a thousand men from old imperial Rome, And very mournful were Lhe tones blent with the heaving main, As the willow branches bent their heads to hear the sad refrain. THE ACACIA. 39 = " Love me less, my memory hovers Like a shadow in thy way, And it intercepts the sunbeams "Which should gild thy dreary day. Oh, from Albion's rocky islet, Take bright visions of the past; Bear the cross of sufifering meekly, And it will grow light at last. Love me less, a spell yet lingers In the glances of thine eyes, Hovers in those clasping fingers, Whispers in those heaving sighs ; Hush, thy love must be another's ; Rise, thy hand and heart are free ; No, it never was a brother's Tenderness thou had'st for me. island Rome, eaving be sad Time will pass and bring thee hither Over yonder rolling main, And within this olden castle, Dearest, we may meet again ; In that hour I will not shun thee, Each accustomed path we'll trace, If another's heart can claim thee, Love me less, give hers the place. 'Twas thy dying parent's blessing, Sealed thy pledged and fatal vow, And that promise still remaineth Solemnly, unbroken now ; 80 THE ACACIA. From thy brow drive back tlie spectres, From thy heart dispel the mist, Rise, there's work in life's stern battle, Never from thy post be missed. Good-bye darlinpj, up the mountain, Lies the country fair and bright, We are under marching orders, For a city out of sight ; Love me less, life's shadow falleth Softly o'er the dial plate. And 'twill not be many stages, Till we reach the golden gate. Love me less, till at death's quiver, Falls the darkest latest sin ; Wait till o'er the raging river, Our boats glide safely in, Till each quivering bark is anchored. In the souudinos of that shore, Then amid unclouded hours. Heart's fond idol, love me more." And so they said farewell ; that girl within her island home ; And the leader of a thousand men from old Imperial Rome ; Ah, there are broken hearts on earth 'neath placid bosoms worn, There are sweet affections lying, hid, till the resurrection mom. THE AOAOIA. M BURIED WITH MUSIC. They buried him with music, And should it not be so ? That the holy dead of earth should rest, With a solemn cadence low. Yes, music for the hearth, And for the cradle-bed, For festive halls, for warrior bands, And, music for the dead. The mother lulls her babe Calmly upon her breast, With the deep notes from her heart of love, To soothe it to its rest ; And the sailor on the sea Sinks peacefully to sleep. With the wild chords of the ocean's harp, Stirred by its pulses deep. They buried him with music — When Autumn's dying moan Scattered the dead leaves on the grave, Harmony whispered, " Gone! " When th' Autumn's cloud-veiled sun Gleamed through the sky above, Music responded unto light, And the soft tone was *' Love ! " A breeze hke breath of Spring Passed down the gentle slope ; The hand to fuller chorda awoke. And gave the password, " Hope ! " 32 THK ACACIA. They buried him with music, And angel harp and string, Although unheard, yet answered back, Earth's faint strains quivering. They buried him with music — Masonic music — dear Once to the heart of him who lay Upon a Mason's bier — Music that softly breathed Sad tales of Death's damp sod ; Warm strains thiit told of cold decay, Rising to Jive with Ood. Father 1 hear our plea ; Give mercy from thy store, Unto the bands whoso weary feet Still tread the chequered floor ; Give wisdom to the lips, To form the pleading prayer, And guide the trembling hand to rule Each action by the square ; That so by light and love, They, won to heaven and Thee, May close their eyes to wake and hear A new-born melody ; — That when around their graves Earth's voices murmer, " Gone I " The harpers of the Eternal Lodge May echo, " Won, won, won 1 " •m THE ACACIA. as A CRIMEAN SCENE. FOUNDED ON FACT. .V t Banners were floating in the air ; The battle had begun, And a Private of the 23rd Was dying with the sim. Alone he lay upon the turf, His life-blood oozing fdst, When a noble British officer Reined his war steed as he passed. '* Ah, faithful soldier, art thou here and dying all alone, — Did the cruel foeman drag thee here to this heap of rugged stone ? Cheer, comrade, cheer, my prond steed neighs to join the deadly fight; But I will watch beside thee through the horrors of the night." * " Noble Captain, ride away, Leave this useless mass of clay, Bind not up my bleeding brow, 'Tis my life-blood pouring now." Comrade ! there are gushing waters rippling very near, Hark I amid the clanging shouts the rushing waves I hear ; Let me hasten to some shady spot where the bright flower dips. And bathe thy throbbing temples now Pnd cool thy parching lips." 84 THE AOAOIA. " Captain, I can hear a sound, Soraetimoa heard on battlo-ground, 'Mid the conflict and the strife, Sound the waves of deathless life." " But tell mo, comrade, toll mo where thine own beloved rest Is no love-token closely bound upon thy gallant breast ? Toll me whore rises up thy home beneath green Ireland's sky Now dictate quickly, comrade, for darkness draweth nigh ? " " Captain, I am all alone, None will weep when I am gone ; From the field, the hearth, the sea, All are safely housed but me." ** Well, comrade, hast thou not one wish ; ah, tell me not to go, There are others fighting for our Queen, I will not leave thee so. It would stain the laurels of success on these fields of Inkerman. What ! leave a comrade in distress ! and I an Englishman ? *' Captain, in my knapsack lies, God's sweet book of mysteries ; As my dying hour steals on, Read the fourteenth of St. John." And sweetly strange amid the strife Of that Crimean plain. Rose up to heaven those blessed words, That cheered the noble slain. THE ACACIA. ** Peace, peace " amid the cannon's roar, ** Peace " 'mid the shivering lance, The dying groans, the falling ranks, Of Russia, Britain, Franco. The voice whose music tones had oft Filled hall and bower with glee. Had rung with merry laugh to cheer The sailor's watch at sea, Had led his own brave men in shouts, When the chased foemen ran ; Now in a softer, richer strain, Bunt o'er the dying man. Amid the combat of that night, What bade their horrors cease, What was their password through those hours Of death and darkness ? — " Peace." The mournful moon at midnight looked On many a blood-stained breast. On a Private of the 23 rd, Gone calmly to his rest. THE QUEEN'S PICTUR.E. On leeiDg a picture representing Queen Victoria taking the oath to m*{«t#{n the ProteBtant faith. She stands, the Queen of Britain's isle, Within the hallowed shade ; Her little hand is on the page Of inspiration laid ; 36 THE ACACIA. Her robes, her jewels — aye, the crown Circling her forehead fair, Is nought to her — a mightier one Than Solomon is there. *Twas no light thing, that sacred rite ; A nation's wondering gaze Is fixed upon the gentle girl That on their throne thoy raise ; One guardian form is near her now — Wellington ^iews the scene, The veteran chief of three-score years- And she — but just eighteen. A light is glancing on the floor Her little feet have trod — A light is beaming in her eyes, Pure from the throne of God ; Yes, holy faith with trembling joined, Within that maiden's breast, A prayer to keep her father's faith, And leave to heaven the rest. Young Queen, what visions throng thy soul; Thou could'st not tell what strife Should gather round thy nation's hearth In coming after-life ; Thou could'st not tell the fearful force Of congregated powers, Of deep laid schemes, well wrought within, Rome and her seven-hilled towers ; THE ACACIA. Of what has been, of convent walls, Rising on Albion's shore ; Of persecution's hidden sword Piercing thy country o'er ; Of Jesuitism, deep and dark, Widening its dreadful search, To poison streams which flow around The hearth, the home, the Church ; Of what may be — the veiled to come ! May grace be given to thee, To give untarnished back to God That oath of Liberty. Yes, stand undaunted 'mid the strife Of danger's darkest scene, True to the vow upon thy lips, Protestant England's Queen. Ohl ye free-born, 'neath Britain's flag, A vow upon ye lies, The Bible and the Crown to guard With warmest sympathies. Surely there is some mystic spell Upon our native sod ; It cannot fail, it cannot die, That prayer — that oath to God ! 37 38 THE ACACIA. THE BRIDEGROOM'S REVERIE. I'm very sad to-night, Ellie, The memory of the past Is muttering through my aching heart Like murmurs of the blast ; I'm thinking of the years, Ellie, The happy years long fled ; But tears are on my cheek, and thou Art with the quiet dead. I'm threescore years to-day, Ellie, And there tarries at my side A beautiful and gentle form — A seventeen summer's bride — Her golden curls float listlessly Around her neck of snoWj And the tones of that impassioned voice Are musical and low. But I turn from that fair child, Ellie, To the grave-yard's silent gloom, And would freely barter life and love For the silence of thy tomb ; I miss the hand that beacon-like Pointed to upper skies ; I miss the soul which earnestly Looked forth in thy dark eyes. THE ACACIA. There are courtly guests at home, Bllie, The lamps shine in the halls, And the sounds of mirth and melody Ring round my stately walls ; And men have praised to-night, Ellie, Ihe music's joyous thrill, The rich parterre, the sculptor's art, The pamter's cunning skill. But the sweetest sounds to me are winds That through these willows wave, And the choicest garden I possess Are the flowers on thy grave ; And the softest couch I seek, Ellie, Is thy green and grassy bed, And my choicest piece of sculptured art Is the marble at thy head. They filled the festal cup, Ellie, And o'er the flashing wine They praised the lovely girl I won To deck the marriage shrine ; Will God forgive me — o'er that child No smile of love I shed. For I drank in solemn silence To the memory of the dead. When I brought my child-bride home, Ellie, The home that once was ours, She praised the decorated rooms, The birds, the founts, the flowers ; 39 4» THE ACACIA. But one sweet portrait from our walls Had vanished by that night, And she told me, with a fond caress, She hid it from my sight. Ah I did the poor child think, EUie, That you and I could part ? Ah ! 'tis a sinful thing to give The hand without the heart. Good bye ! meet me in dreams, Ellie- Nerve me to bear my lot, Till I meet thee in that land, Ellie, Whose dwellers •* marry not." "THOU ART WITH ME." "I will fear no evil for thou art with me."— David. Saviour ! stay near to me, Throughout all life time, in the early morn, In burning noon and in the gentle eve, In dark and lonely midnight when are born All dismal things, God, never me leave, " Thou art with me." Not only for the days Of darkness, and of bitterness and of grief, Not only in the swelling storm of heartfelt woe, When flowers are fading slowly, leaf by leaf, I ask Thy presence, for Thou wilt, I know, Stay then with me. Wh IVel Am Th( W' WJ A Ro^ 4 :l THE ACACIA. Not only for the hours When the cold look of pride falls on my face, When human treachery is being unmasked, When friends come forward at a tortoise pace, I trust that Thou wilt then appear unasked, To stay with me. Stay with me in the hours Of festal mirth, when heart responds to heart, When happy laugh, and merry glee and song, Wile the long evening, and we're loth to part. Thou by my side among the festive throng — Stay near to me. Stay with me when I hear, The words of blessing from the grateful poor, Or prayer from weary traveller passing by, When they for me ask mercy from thy store To set thy seal upon their earnest cry, Stay near to me. Stay near me, very near, When treacherous winds of Fame would fan my cheek, I've Iieard that in them lurk the seeds of Death, And I am human — without Thee very weak ; Thou antidote to every poisonous breath, Stay near to me Stay near me when a cloud Would rise between Thy Glory and my soul, When by enticing accents something claims A part of that of which Thou hast the whole, Rouse me to duty by Thy loving names— "Thou art with me" 41 42 THE ACACIA. Stay near me when a voice, A human voice pours fourth in accents low, Endearing words told but to Heaven above, And one fond list'ner, Thou who dost know All the mysteriousness of human love, " Thou art with me." Stay with me when the sign Is given to this mortality to change, To usher this worn spirit to its rest, To point to deathless fields where it may range, To lean forever on thy loving breast. Stay near to me SOLDIER'S CHILDREN PLANTING ENGLISH FLOWERS. On observing a group of British Soldiers' children pLmting English flower seed. Busy hands and busy feet, Delving up the earth, And planting in the cloudless hope Of a redundant birth, Fair exiles from a sunnier shore. Breaking up foreign soil, Have patience — summer sun and rain Shall well repay your toil. Ah, we've room and welcome In these lands of ours, British soldiers' children. Planting English flowers. d. THE AOACIA. « Do you know what you are doing ? You are not in England now, Remember you the primroses That there in spring-time grow ? And the violets and cowslips, That gem the green fields o*er, And the roses and hepaticas, That grew round mother's door. Sow them in foreign soil, Arch your Canadian bowers, British soldiers* children Planting English flowers. Do you know what you are doing ? *Tis Canadian soil ye tread ; The sod is free beneath your feet, The blue sky overhead, The dust of sleeping patriots, Mingles among that mould, You're not the first to lay rich seeds Down in earth's bosom cold ; Hearts of oak have flourished, Where in sunny hours, British soldiers* children. Sow their English flowers. What do you know of combat, Or the invading horde ? What should you learn of bugle, Or rifle, knapsack, sword ? 43 44 THE ACACIA. Your lot should be with flowers, Your youthful lips should learn, Nought but of love and innocence, And the green leaves return, Dream not of life's rough sea, Or desolation's hours, British soldiers' children, Planting Enghsh flowers. Was it for this your fathers Dared the tempestuous sea. To plant upon this Western shore, Flower, and bush, and tree ? They looked like men who came to do Deeds of heroic strife, Their gleaming arms and heavy tramp Told of a martial life, Plant on, they dared the wave, In winter's wildest hours, To prop the quaking fence, Shielding British flowers. In the days of old, dear children, The Lord a garden claimed. One tree bore deathless branches, The tree of Life 'twas named, Far away in mother country, God has set His blessed tree, Where the Bible and the Crown still bloom The shade of liberty. And lest the foe should come, In all his grim array, God has set the flaming British swo^d, *' Which turneth every way." THE ACACIA. 46 **CHRISTOS VOSORES." It !• a custom in the Greek Church, during Easter week, for friend in meeting friend to give the hand, at the same time saying '* Christos voscres," [Christ is risen] the party so addressed responds, " Voistuo voscres," [risen indeed.] During this week all parties between whom variance has existed, endeavor to meet that they may be reconciled by the mystic words •* Christos voscres."— Pascrea. Hark! 'mid the ice-bound Russian seas, A voice of gladness sounds, And Danube's rolling streams have heard, And green Moldavia's grounds ; Hark 1 " Chrisios voscres " up to heaven, Triumphantly went past ; ** Voistuo voscres " on the winds, Its hallowed tone hath cast. Hands that have been so long estranged, Are warmly clasped to-day ; The knights who would have met in war Have hurled their spears away ; Men with fierce passions in their breast, Have quenched the blighting flame, And the fierce spirit has bowed down, At ** Christos voscres " name. The prodigal has travelled on, A hundred leagues or more. To enter this forgiving week, His father's long-closed door, He stands upon the threshold now, And gazes on the band Of home's beloved ones, not a sound, No pressure of the hand. 46 THE ACACIA. A moment and the full proud lips, Have '* Christos voscres" breathed, " Voistuo voscres," loving arms Are round him geatij wreathed, His head is on his mother's breast. His father's tear-dimmed eyes, Giveth the glory unto Him Who rose that we may rise. And is it meet a darkened Church, Shall take a holy pride, In burying anger, variance, strife. With Him the crucified. And our own voiceless lips be dumb, No *' Christos voscres " give, Ah, they on whom we look with scorn, May teach ns how to live. How do our spirits fondly boast Of walking m the day, Yet stumble over every cross, Which lieth in our way ; How often do our souls forget. The source whence comes our might. Oh, for the resurrection morn, When darkness shall grow light. When millions bursting from their graves Shall " Christos voscres " sing, And from the sinless courts above, "Yoistuo voscres " ring; While He who burst the gates of death, And reached His Father's side, ** Sees of the travail of His soul, And shall be satisfied." THE ACACIA. 47 THE BROTHER'S REMEMBRANCE. I In & church, in CanaJa West, standi a marble slabcontainina the foUowiiiy: Inscription : "5T0 the mo!«t affectionate of brother*, • ♦ « » who dt'i'arted this life from the fcffectflofa cold, taken while defending his country. Tlii- humble momimuut is placed here by lil» only brother." It Stands — a simple tribute there, Within that hallowed fane ; The token of a quenchless love That ever must remain. It tells of years of tenderness When two fond hearts were one ; And friendship's flower that fadeth not When life's short race is run. Cannot the feeling heart portray Affection breathing there ; And speaking higher, holier things Than wreaths of laurel rare ? It tells the throb of agony Which wrung that manly breast, When first the sound fell on his ear, ** Thy brother is at rest." ** Brother ! brother, thou art gone, I must journey lonely on ; I shall miss thee in the strife. In the sunshine of my life. While I look around and see Warrior troopB which wait for me. 48 THE ACACIA. Shall I lead again that band While one warm and trusty hand Lies now helpless with its clay — Only brother passed away. ** Ah! they tell me I have won With the hostile sword and gun, Battles for the loyal free, What is fame or spoil to me ? For they seek to make me bear Honors which thou may'st not share. Back I'd throw my all on earth — Were we once more round our hearth ; But thy spirit would not stay— Only brother passed away. " And I shall not win thee back From the grave's benighted track. Music from the forest trees, Whispers of the sighing breeze, Fain would bid my soul rejoice ; But — I wait another voice. Yet the angel's harp and string, Answer with their quivering, To the tones I miss this day — Only brother passed away. " Yonder rolls the splashing bay; Yonder heaves the lake's white spray ; Yonder doth the mountain frown : We have stamped them with a crown. Ah 1 a fearful price I've paid For the honors on them laid. THE ACACIA. I shall see our banners wave, Whilst thou fill'st thy early grave ; For a star hath veiled its ray — Only brother passed away. ** Oh I it had been bettor far Had we fallen both in war, And Britannia's banner proud Wrapped us in one fearful shroud. Oh ! beside my bed of pain To have heard thy voice again, Ere my soul from earth had burst, God, our God, had called thee first : Where immortal spirits stay — Only brother called away," Long years are numbered with the gone Suice this requiem was said ; And earth yet claims one living son, Tho grave retains her dead. Still when that living brother bows To worship still and low. Doth not that snowy marble speak Of one he loveth now ? Warrior ! the voice of fame may teach Thy noble deeds of yore ; And lofty pillars yet may speak, A nation's thanks to pour. Brother I this hallowed marble stands A link to Heaven above ; Warrior ! those tell thy dauntless heart- ' Brother ! this speaks of love. It 60 THE ACACIA. LAKE ONTARIO AT SUNSET. Thou art rolling on, Ontario, Laving the pebbly beach : The fisher's sail just marks thy waves Far as the eye can reach ; Night veils thy distant waves — Sunset is going away — O, let us watch with thee to-night ; Leave thee ere dawn of day. Hast thou no song to sing Of olden Indian times ? Of Chieftains in their birch canoes That listened to thy chimes ? Hast thou no tales of blood That mingled in thy flow ? No memories of the hallowed past ' Within thy caverns low ? Ah ! the white man doth claim The land once free as thou ; They've bought and sold on either side — The woods before them bow ; They may come down and gaze Into thy waters cold ; Thou'lt waft their treasures — give them graves — Thou art not bought for gold. Thou hast laved the burning bark Down in thy treasured hold ; The sailor sleeps within thy arms — The child with locks of gold. The Niag Soli To Th( Wl THE ACA.CIA. 61 Earth has her signs of death, « Her graves, her marble stone, Her crosses by the lone way-side ; Thou hast how many ? None 1 Thou art gentle in thy smiles. Like a conqueror at play ; The sportive children venture far Into thy rolling spray. Thou't fearful in thy pride 1 To join thy numbers sweet Niagara above thee rolls — St. Lawrence at thy feet. We love to see thee thus. Speaking to sunbeams bright, So like the loving and the loved Meeting at morn and night. We love to see thy waves Rise as they're rising now. To feel thy billows at our feet, Thy baptism on our brow. We leavfe thee, heaving lake, To thy moonlight and thy sky. The flute's soft note, the splash of oars, Ere another day goes by. 0, for those deathless waves, 0, for that country won. Where the weary rest, where "moonlight's power, Music and love, are one." .# t 5t THE ACACIA. " BOOM FOR THE DAUNTLESS." Written on the arrival of the Ist Battalion of the P. C. O. Rifle Brigade, and the 4th Battery of Royal Artillery, at Hamilton. Room for the dauntless — room ; Music is round us poured ; The sun's bright rays are glancing now On many a conqueror's sword. Room for the dauntless, room, ' For Albert's chosen band Noble and chief and soldier, won From their glorious fatherland. Room for the dauntless, room ; Axe, cleave the timbers through ; Hammer and nail, and trusty arms, Ye have a work to do. Toil cheerfully and well, From morn to evening gloom ; Construct and build, and arch and frame — Room for the dauntless, room. -\. Room for the dauntless, they Have sighed a long farewell To gentle forms, to noble hearts. That long have loved them well ; From England's proudest towers, From England's cottage walls, They've come to guard a stranger land, Far from their native halls. THE ACACIA. Room for the dauntless, room ; Snows in their pathway lie, 'ifid ice and cold, and winter blast — They come prepared to die ; To die, e're Britain's flag Sots in Canadian skies ; They come as our watchful guard, As England's sacrifice. Room for the dauntless, room, The foot-worn aisles they tread, Where holy song, and hallowed prayer, And faith's sweet words are said. Where is their native church ? Far shines the gleaming dome, Amid the green ancestral trees — Room for the dauntless, room. 53 Room for the dauntless — see Their honors gleaming bright, Telling of Britain's glorious deeds 'Mid the deadliest of the figlit ; And proud their soubriquet, Yet, at their leader's name, A sigh, ** a faint cold shuddering," Thrills through each martial frame. Room for the dauntless, room, In the City of the West, God has set his everlasting hills. As a shield about our breast ; 54 THE AOAOIA. He has given us sand-barred waves, And *mid our winter's gloom, He has sent us aid from motherland- Room for the dauntless, room. THE PRINCE OF WALES AT THE TOMB OP WASHINGTON. A sound of music on the air, Not the triumphant sounds That scarce have hushed their martial breath, On lake and tented grounds, Who marshalls our Princo with tones, Like Ocean's moaning surge ? Why moves the proud procession on To that low mournful dirge ? Skies for the Prince wore summer dress. Flowers were blooming there ; The warm winds of that Southern clime Lifted his clustering hair, On to the Sarcophagus borne, On to the shadows led, And Albert Edward treads with awe The precincts of the dead. Humbly and reverently he stands. Amid the sacred gloom ; The young, the high-bom Prince of Wales Looked mournful o'er the tomb. THE ACACIA. What thoughts passed through the gushing heart Of that proud Empire's sod, As witli uncovered brows he graced The tomb of Washington ? 66 Vi > f Came o'er his soul a weight of thought That bowed his spirit down, Seemed they light things in that calm hour, The sceptre and the crown ? Prayed he not then that when the earth, Should take him to her trust, A nation's heart should beat for him, As for that honored dust. And silently the freeborn stood, Watching the honor done The guardian spirit of their shores, By Queen Victoria's son. Silent, but tears were gushing then From eyes unubcd to weep. As the proudest of two Christian realms Bowed 'fore that peaceful sleep. Pass on, pass on, the stricken heart Must once again rebound, ; > To festive calls and glowing love, And music's merry sound ; But who will dare to tell the force Of that cementing chain, Forged round the tomb of Washington, To arch the rolling main ? ^■' 56 THE ACACIA. !! Illustrious dust, thy country's strength Is gathered round thy grave, And a watchword is thy glorious name Whene*er their banners wave ; Illustrious Prince, more honored now, For thou hast taught our lands, To bury every jealous feud, Deep in the wave-washed sands. And thou hast proved before the world, As only Christians prove. That the Bible has given forth to thee, Its hohest password " Love." worthy Patriot, that did bear To death, thy mighty trust; worthy Prince, that dared to pay Just homage to such dust. ■\ f 1 OUR COTTAGE WALLS. Wo are aliens from a distant land, A land of love and flowers, And none are here in whose warm veina Thrills kindred blood with ours ; And they whose sires once proudly trod Through Britain's royal halls. Now dwell in lands the stranger owns, Within the cottage walls. THE ACACIA. sn We have no stores of shining gold— We own not beaut/s power ; We move not in the giddy dance, We live not for one hour ; Yet we have treasures many a king Seeks vainly till life falls ; Science, and peace, and love, we find, Can enter cottage walls. Keep back who enter pleasure's paths, The thoughtless and the gay ; We have no room for treacherous hearts, No room for pride's poor sway. Enter, ye kind and loving ones, Ye whom our Father calls ; We've room for many such as ye, Within our cottage walls. We have the gathered love of years, We'v ) gentle ones to cheer, We've sportive children's guileless hearts, A mid our pathway drear ; A nd oft tiie stranger's kindest tone Upon the lone ear falls ; «, For some liave not disliked the band Within our cottage walls. ,C We converse with the mighty dead — We've poetry's thrilling power— We've music sweet, and hallowed charm. To wile the evening hour ; t, I THE ACACIA. Nor strive to please the listener's ear With power which but appals ; We only sing the songs we love Within our cottage walls. We have an altar raised on high To the worship of our God i We tread the glorious paths of old, Which holier ones have trod ; We've hymns of praise and words of prayer Breathed softly, when night falls, And angels, hovering, fold their wings Around our cottage walls. We know an everlasting arm Is still about us cast; We know we have a glorious rest When Time's dark waves are past. Angelic masons now prepare | A. house which never falls, ^ For us, eternal in the heavens, v Though now in cottage walls. \ ON THE DBSJARDIN'S CATASTROPHE. Masoh 12th, 1857. Tears for the dead — sad tears. For broken hearts are lying in our way ; Behold the ** Princess of the Province s" Weepeth to-day. -^ ; Ki» THE AOACIA. 69 Warm hearts were beatiDg high, Their chosen city was within their sight, ^ And schemes, and hopes, and love's sweet lamp J Were burning bright. Tears for the dead — sad tears, One fearful crash, and hark ! one woeful scream The falling ear of Juggernaut had reached The ice- wrought stream. Gould nought have stayed thee, foe ? Riches were with tliy victims found, Death, And who would not have gladly changed with thee Their gold for breath ? The mother pressed her babe, ^ And smiled to see it smiling in its sleep — And gentle sisters side by side went down Into the deep 1 The man of God who stood, But one short hour before his solemn change, And said, " Heaven's beams should lighten mysteries That here were strange." * ? . The youthful barrister, I Who in his sky beheld no cloudlet dim, And thought upon his young and loving bride, Waiting for him. Masonry could not save ; Low, brethren of the solemn, mystic tie, Who kneel and pray, for the Knight Templar's hands In silence lie. * The last discourse delivered by tlie lamented Rev. A. Booker, on that fatal afternoon, was from these words, " What thou knowest not now thou tknow hereafter."— John xiii. 7, «•; f m THE ACACIA. ^ The lover fond, who thought, Ere summer's sun to claim his bride, He with another loved one passed away, "Went side by side. The priest has breathed the rite For him, the words told not his truth, his trust» How he would cherish ; no his marriage oath ! Was " dust to dust." The sailor brave, who oft Hath fought with tempest 'fleath a stormy sky, % We saw him pass to-day, with England's fiags But half-mast high. Tears for the dead — sad tears, For they had not gone forth as warriors go, The mother had not looked upon her son With dread of woe. The fire was on the hearth, The sun was set, the evening meal was spread When round the city rung the direful sound, " Thy loved are dead." Tears for the dead — sad tears, Yet doth the rainbow glimmer on the cloud, And hues of Paradise doth brightly beam On pall r.nd shroud. For oh ! no watcher saw The chariots and the horse of Israel's host ; None heard the louder song of Cherubim On glory's coast. J THE ACACIA. i The mother met her babes ^ And as the crushing timbers rattled down, The Everlasting Gates were lifted up, Our lost to crown. Tears for the dead— sad tears, Widows and orphans weep heart-broken now, Why did the storm beat down upon their heads ? In grief they bow. Ah ! humble be our plea, His love to ask upon our heart's ploughed sod, Our answer to the mystery must be, The will of God. ei f DEATH OF KING HENRY II. ^ / On the shores of sunny France, the evening winds were sighing, In the Cathedral of Chilon, Plantaganet was dying ; And England's beauteous Queen and England's Princes fair, Do they watch the fainting monarch ? alas, they were not there. A son but not 'an heir to the " Island of the sea," Now clasped the suflferer to his breast and heard his dying plea. " Oh, is this death that stays my pulse and dims my glaz- ing eye ? Not yet, I wait to lift again my banners to the sky ; I, who have woke the fainting heart from the torpor of dismay. Whose name has been a psssword— must I, too, pass away ? 62 THE ACACIA. 1. Oh ! Geoffrey ! son of her who loved thy monarch in his youth, c The foir and gentle Rosamond, who trusted to my truth, I meet a^ain the form I loved, [ see yoiu* mother now, ^ With her long bright wavy tresses across her classic brow. Again retiu'ns the fearful time, when strong arms bear mo back, When I was left among the dead, upon the battle track. When with her little trembling hand, and look of calm despair, She unclasped the iron helmet and put baok the flowing hair, And unlaced the heavy corslet from the quiet blood-stained *' breast. Where in past hours of w^eariuess her throbbing head would rest, I meet again the farewell glance of that too loving eye, And must it be her son and mine, who waits to see me die? Was it for this I planted thorns in holy Louis' breast ? And robbed him of the choicest tiower that decked his regal crest? ' *Twas sin, although his soul woke not, his very heart was cold, To the glorious songs of Provence dnd the burning lays of old. He never could love Ellenore as I did — deep and wild, I know thou shudderest at the name, I wonder not my child, Was _,it for this I led her troops o'er sea, through rocky gorge, And blended with our English flag, the banners of St. George? THE ACACIA. 63 Dark be tlie aunshino of that morn, a blight bo on the hour, Tn which tho royal castellan entered ray warrior tower, And from the mail-clad army turned and murmured unto me, " King Henry of Plantaganet, a son is born to thee." My firstborn ; how he turned away with heart of burning strife. Yet sought forgiveness from my hand in that last hour of life, And he, my lovely second born, my generous nation's pride, Wiiy did he die with Hag in hand, and tho sword upon his side. Why do my children dead, tluis stamp dishonor on their clay, And the living ones arraign themselves against me in the fray ? f Ah ! it is true, tliat as wo plant, so we shall also reap. And evil deeds, like winged birds,come home at night to sleep, It may be that my rebel son may yet lament for me, When he looks upon the fast closed eyes he never more may see, -4 f; And Coeur de Lion's tears may fall o'er dreams of childhood joy, Oh! might my spirit by him stand, and bless the reckless boy. Here take this ring my loving child, thou hast thy moClier's glance, That I should die upon thy breast, a fugitive in France ; Remember I have said forgiven, to those who sought my life, And Ellenore of Aquitane, my lovely erring wife, — Thousands have envied me, my son, envied a broken heart. Envied the countless thorns and woes that round a sceptre start, 64 THE ACACIA. % Yet odours will be round me flung, minstrels will sweetly sing, 1 And they'll bury mo in Fontevraud, with the burial of a king." %^ There came a pause, a burst of tears, the cowled monks nearer trod, And Henry of Plantaganet had passed before his God, And through the bright stained panes of glass, the moon looked gently down. Upon the royal brow grown pale, that yielded up its crown, And the sleeping dust, the voiceless lips could speak a loud ^" Amen, To the vainless trust of riches, and the broken hearts of men, Yet odours rich were round him flung, minstrels did sweetly sing, And they buried him in Fontevraud, with the burial of a king. as^; THE FOREST STREAM. There flows a stream in the forest shade, ' RippHng its course through the mossy glade ,- Onward it flows to the rushing lake, Over the pebbles, through fen and brake ; The maple bends o'er its surface mild. Like a parent fondling a loving child, And the shady leaves of the mountain ash Into the face of its mirror dash. # • ; J j> #• THE ACACIA. All day long, through the burning hours, It sprinkles spray on the fainting flowers, When the fiery sun exhales the mist From leaves which the dewdrop softly kissed ; It laves the roots of the rocking pines, It sings a song to the climbing vines, And the young buds curl themselves to sleep ; Rocked by the music so clear and deep. And onward still does the water pass, O'er the bloodless veins of the tangled grass : The quivering lillies feel its touch, And the wild rose leaf has a richer blush, And all the long and noiseless night The stars peer down from their azure height, Keeping their watch with the stream that flows, Blessing and loving wherever it goes. f I wonder if lue, as our path we take On to the waves of Eternity's lake, I wonder if we shed as bright a gleam Around our path as that forest stream. Heart of Pride, come down to the river. Look in the depths where the lillibS quiver ; Passion, Ambition, your fury lave In the founts of that softly murmuring wave. God of the flowers, the trees, the brooks, Teach us Life's lesson from Nature's books, So may we pass through Immanuel's ground In love's sweet service for ever found. Angels of Purity, near us stay, Angels of Charity, light our way. While through the forest of Life we roam, Steadily, patiently journeying home. 66 g^-" 1^ 66 ' t THE ACACIA. THE FREEMASON'S BURIAL. Written on the death of Brother G. P. Bull. 1;^ ft ^ X \ What means this manly train ? What means that banner furl'd ? Death gave his steed the rein, And a fierce arrow hurl'd. Hark 1 for the touching word Sounds o'er the open tomb ; Hush, for the thrilling tones are heard, Sweetly amid the gloom. *' Masons ! we have laid him now, In tlio grave alone and low ; Brother Masons, shall we weep I 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 1 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 his rest. " Masons ! there are honors hiirh. On the form which there doth lie : THE ACACIA. 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 cofi&n lid. " Brother Masons ! onward build, Till the lower courts are filled ; Till the Master Builder calls Each one to the upper walls ; Till our holy brethren stand, In the Eternal's chosen land. ** The Eternp^s land " — they sighed for the meeting, All loving brt hers, all lasting greetmg. ^ "*** Masons 1 we are pledged to stand Firm in one unbroken band; j# Let us bear each chilling blast, f Let the scornful look be cast ; Brethren let us live to love. Till we join our throng above. "Live to love," — and tlie loud Amen, Hose from the lips of those gathering men. " Masons 1 let this warning be. Loud and soiomn unto ye ; Brethren let your hopes be sure, Of a rest that shall endure. Masons 1 let your spirits blend, While our prayers to heaven ascend ; Brethren let the clods now fall, On the form beloved by all. *' Beloved by all,"— it was sad to view Those brethren taking their last adieu. 68 i. '^ ^ THE ACACIA. They have left the burial place, They have left the solemn scene, They leave no gaudy trace Of where their steps have been ; But in a world above, That prayer and deed now stand — God I send down thy spirit love, To bless that Brother band. K If It ■^ R K B A Y . Not upon a Southern plain, Nor 'mid myrtle bowers of Spain ; Where Ontario's waters rise. Underneath Canadian skies — Where the Indian's arrow sped, There thou rear'st thy loP / head ; Where the Indian's cabin lay, There thou risest, sweet Rockbay. Through the forest arch of green Are thy towering pillars seen ; Sunbeams glitter on the leaves, Rustling round thy turret eaves, With the waters at thy feet Rippling into numbers sweet ; 'Mid their glad and joyous spray. There thou smilest, calm Rockbay. THE ACA.CIA. 69 i ) ■ r^ Sweet sounds from thee float afar — Music, song, and light guitar, Dashings of the boatman's oar, Breezes whispering on the shore. Leaves that rustle through the night. While amid the moon's soft light, Glittering in the star-beam's ray, There thou sleepest, calm Rockbay. Foliage of a thousand shades Quivers on thy mossy glades — Flowers of soft hues are seen Gleaming through thy vistas green ; Roses, flakes of crimson snow, Strew the verdant moss below ; Water lillies lift their heads From their deep and sinuous beds ; And yet thou hast dearer things Than the rose or birdling's wings- Precious things that must abide When thy youngest flower hast died ; > Underneath thy shadows fair, Human forms are dwelling there — Noble hearts that kindly beat In Iheir calm Rockbay retreat. Dove of Peace ! unfold thy wings — Shelter from all harsher things ; Spell of beauty ! hover still Over forest, bay and hill ; Spirit of undying Love I Breathe thy incense from above, Till the dawn of deathless day Is ezchaDged for sweet Rockbay. I f 70 THE ACACIA. ■;5 il; A'. ! ^ WELCOME HOME. [Inscribe<. Holy walls our Father built, With the light of morn are gilt, And his Son's name, carved on high, Meets the traveller passing by, Though the father and the son Their earth-wearied race have run. Never to the Holy Rock, Truer shepherd led his flock ; Scoffers hushed the impious word When his pleading voice was heard. And the midnight robber stayed From his deeds of blood, and prayed ; And they say his name is now Breathed with tears and blessings low, For they wept, who could not save, One who fills a pastor's grave. Widows dried the falling tear When they heard his footstep near ; Orphans in his pathway bent J For his blessing as he went ; For his lamp shed holy light, Heaven-born love and honor bright, Strove to rule, with earnest prayer, Every action by the Square ; Holy deeds their incense wave Round a well-tried Mason's grave. Clouds were round the setting sun. When the ship its race had run. Ah ! affection, wild and free. Might have been idolatry, \ i THE ACACIA. 75 ) And, in unforgiving woe, Said, ♦' I will not let thee go," Had not love's attentive ear Caught the storm-cloud mutt'ring near- Heard, with thunder in its train, *• Sounds of an abundant rain. " Father ! thou in light dost dwell — They for whom thy last tears fell Still the widow's grief must share, Still the orphan's lot must bear ; But One, who appointed thee, Counsellor and friend to be, Thine own best beloved will keep Till, like thee, we fall asleep— Thine will guard through every blast Till we meet with thee at last. \ :-^ /' TRE ENSIGN MARTYR. [An incident in the Indian War.] There were sounds of fearful mutiny, Neath Allahabad's walls, A nd 'raid the darkness of ilie night. Murder to murder calls ! But one with youth upon his cheek, And colours in his hand. Found shelter in the dark ravine From that blood-thirsty band. n THE AOACIA. Four times the burning sun arose Upon his hiding place, And on the flfth he starting woke, To meet the Sepoy's face ! They dragged him to their leader's feet, The Ensign martyr found, An aged missionary there, For Christ's religion bound. I If r Tortured and weak, the Pastor's lieart, Was yielding to his foes, Ik But one he knew not, came to cheer The sufferer in his woes ; ^»^ A few short years, the patriot boy 1^ A helpless child had been ; Too good to hve, too young to die, Our victor of sixteen. " Brother, brother, do not fear Blazing flame or darting spear, Look upon the mighty cross, Count it gain to suffer loss, Christ will succour they who try Him, Brother, do not dare deny Him. 1 " Brother, thorny is the road. But it windeth up to God, Doth it matter if we lie, Bleaching neath an Indian sky ; Can we not as calmly rest, As on England's grassy breast. THE ACACIA. n I '* Brother, suffer torture, die, Ere thou darost to deny ; Hark ! amid the lime tree's breath, Sounds the voice that con(iuered Death, Rest and peace and glory cometh Unto him who overcometh." Courage, ye brave, for Britain's flags Are waving in the sky. Knights of tlie Cross, there comes a sound Of armies passing by ; A hundred dauntless hearts are near, A hundred bayonets gleam ; Steps of the gallant Fusileers, Are splashing through the stream. The Sepoys tiy, the Catechist Felt his rough chain unclasp, And turned with faltering steps away, From the kind soldier's clasp ; *' Where is that brave boy officer," Who bore the soldier's part, With England's glory on his breast. And Christ's upon his heart ? Oh, find him, save him, bring him here 1 " The cry rose wild and vain ; No more the strippling hero's voice Shall echo o'er the plain ; The 'blood- stained wreath of martyrdom, Circled the pure pale brows, But Gabriel with a martyr's crown, Parted the orange boughs. t f 78 THE ACACIA. Boast, Britain, of thy Island home, Boast of thy glorious lands ; Thy works of art, thy mines of wealth, Thy dauntless soldier bands ; But oh, be this thy glory wreath, That thou from land and seas, Can give untarnished to our God, Such martyr souls as these. % li "COME QUICKLYl" " Surely, I come quickly— even so come, Lord Jesua," Oh, hasten, Prince 1 Thy marble temple is with scoffers thronged, Thy beauteous garden by deceivers trod. Thy orphan children are oppressed and wronged Upon thy sod — J And we have toiled all day, ^ Now faint at night we pray— " Come, quickly ! " We rose at dawn, And beside all the waters sowed the seed ; We saw fair " lihes among thorns," we stood To rest beneath an apple tree, and " feed Sweet in the wood ; " Still on the leaves fell tears Of hope, and joy, and fears. " Come, quickly I " THE ACACIA. 79 When noon was high, We turned us to the footsteps of the flock, And fed " the kids beside the shepherd's tent." Toward the shadow of the holy rock Our feet we bent ; We felt soft breezes blow, But 3^et it was not thou. " Come, quickly ! " When evening came. We walked within thy garden, and we heard Thy music voice, and we were not afraid ; We heard its tone in every leaf that stirred ; We knelt and prayed .^^That we mav meet thee there, , But Patience hushed our prayer. 0^ "Come, quickly ! " The time is long, And we are watching by the crumblmg wall, Waiting a herald's warning from thy camp ; Our garments with the heavy dews that fall Are very damp. Oh ! weary is the night — Centre of Love and Light. " Come, quickly ! " Within are sounds Of revelry, and mirth, and maddened tongues ; The flowers are dying in the festal hall, Tones inharmonious mark voluptuous songs ; Their pleasures pall, 80 THE ACACIA. 'Mid Bong, and dance, and shout; Their lamps are going out " Come, quickly ! " Ah ! we would sleep— But not till we can slumVjer on thy breast, And foci the hi nd that opened up the fountinn ; Soon let us see thy fiery charger's crest Over the mountain; The moon and stars grow pale> And human strength will fail. *' Come, quickly ! " { % f I t LIGHT. 4^ " In the beginning God made heaven and earth," When time now hoar with age firat had his birlb. Th?n lirst evolved the vital atmosphere, And free from blight of sin were skies ethereal, Then lirst revolving wheels bore round this sphere,. And immaterial hands made the material. Then the creator lixed the hours for night — His loud command went forth, " Let there l)e ligliL'" And what is light, and how xicar doth it come To piu-ost spirit ? for its radiance beamed Ero yet the sun had found its earliest home ; Ere yet our sister-planets' bright lamps gleamed: Ero yet the ocean bars were molten ; Ere yet the breaker's voice had spoken. THE ACACIA. 81 i purest source of light, while feebly we Pursue our pleasing path : we ask, oh ! when Shall these poor eyes of ours beheld e'en thee ? In whom is light, that light the life of men ? 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 name. 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, Jewels and clay, 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 refine, And these material forms shall rest in trust. Till at God's call each its own soul shall join, .A 82 THE ACACIA. •K THE DYING GIRL. ^ *' It was n strange sight, that little wedding party by the bedside of the. dying child, b»t it was Helen's last wish, therefore instantly complied with.'' — The Discipline of Lifb. Twas a strange, yet hallowed scene : Within the darkened room, Lay a fair girl passing peacefully To a home of deathless bloom ; And near her knelt her ftither, While closely by his side Another form was kneeling, A lovely being — his bride. % Perhaps ne'er had the sun Looked on so strange a sight ; There was tremor in the priest's deep voice, •i| As he breathed the sacred rite. 1 And the mystic cirque of gold, The sign of love unbroke, Was given — a few words said, And the gentle sufferer spoke : — •'Father, 'tis past, 'tis over now, I calmly take my rest, I bless thee, father, that 1 die on a living mother's breast, For through the many years gone by, she has ever been the same, A mother she has been to me, in everytliing but name. Father, you've sometliiug now to love, though Helen's going away, Some one to come and weep with you, over my sleeping ckvv. I was selfish, mother, thus to wish, this service by my side, And to darken with the hues of death, the white robes of a bride. THE ACACIA. 88 Father, she will not leave your liome, for the merry banquet hall, Nor wander from your bed of pain, for tlie jocund dancer's call; Forgive me that this hour I wake, that saddened memory's thrill, But the dreary image of the past, must cast its shadow still. Mother, you'll think of me sometimes, wlien I am far away, When you are in the shrubbery, at the dying of the day ; You'll speak about me, mother, until you think I pass, Among my beds of violets, through the tall and wavy grass ; You'll sometimes give a passing thouglit, to my memory, father dear, ^ When you're passing quickly tlirough the streets, and a childish voice you hear ; Your loving thoughts will turn aWay, from the papers in your hands, To a mound of efrth, a grassy grave, that in your garden stands. ' ^ ■ I shor.ld like my garden flowers, to be sown again next year, My little treasures, birds and books, you'll keep them, mother, dear ; Sing the same songs, strike the same chords, breathe the prayer morn and night, For I shall be there worshipping, only so veiled so bright. And shed no mournful tears, mother, when you see my vacairt chair; Father, you've Helen's portrait and a lock of Helen's hair. Is it evening coming father, the sun has ceased to shine, Let me feel your hands once more darling pressed closely upon mine ; 1 if III «< • .: THE AOAOIA. Mother, the angels, bright and fair, are coming from the sky, They are calling for your Helen, loved ones, good bye, good bye ! " « * * * • * at \ There was silence 'mong the watchers, They felt the stranger foe , And holy prayers were breathed that he May gently deal the blow. Stricken in soul — the bridegroom knelt Death's lovely prize beside, While his daughter's spirit passed to heaven ^ From the bosom of his bride. '». ^-^ ^ISABELLA OF VALOIS. ♦ King Henry and his son, Prince Henry of Monmouth, tried by erery means in th«ii power to fthnlce J he constancy of the young Queen to the memory of her afllaac«d husband, King Richard, but in vain."— Lives of Knoland's QuxaNs. She flung her mantle from her broast, Her tresses from her brow ; A child, yet girt with woman's strength, She looks on Henry now ; And the gallant Prince of Monmouth, Whose love the lady scorn'd. Stood gazing on her noble brow With jewels unadorn'd. THE ACACIA. Knights brought their bannerets to wave When the vessel should depart, But bitter thoughts and poignant grief Filled many an English heart ; And she, fair girl, had quelled the storm That o'er her spirit broke ; It was no hour for tears ; a voice Upon the soft air spoke : " I am leaving, king, for ever, The shores of England's isle ; Blessed be God that I am free From all your sin and wile ; One hour, and the kinder surf My father's ship shall buoy — Another morn, and France shall greet. The heiress of Valois. 86 ir-- *' Keep, keep those gaudy trinkets. Nor deeper stain thy soul "With falsehood, perfidy and crime, For the value of the whole ; I should have worn those jeweiS With pleasure and with pride, But Richard sleeps in Westminster With Anne by his side. ** To rob one of her treasures, ISilver and land and gold — To heap foul scorn upon a king Who in his grave lies cold — THE ACACIA. To make the bowers of Havering A prison for a dove, Is the way the Prince of Monmouth Sues for a lady's love. " Farewell, proud king of Lancaster, I've not forgot the day, Wiien, as a slave, you carried me From my husband's side away : My husband — yes, in heart — though none Saw bridal train or ring ; Nor waiting crowd came forth to crown The child-bride of their king. " Farewell, base king of Albion ! One ruleth yet on high, And the stately towers of Poutefract, Are pointing to the sky. ,, Yes, cast thine eyes upon the ground — Again thy story tell, f"' That * Richard was by far too old To love sweet Isabel.' " Look, courtiers, on your monarch now — Knights of the sword and lance — Your hero dare not meet my gaze, Poor Isabel of France ; Ah 1 tell it at the tournament, When pride his lip will curl, That this Henry of good England Has quailed before a girl THE ACACIA. " 1 will not tell you, Englishmen, How long I sought with care To tread the path your An-ne trod, — Of love, forgiveness, prayer. Farewell, ye gen'rous Elnglishmen ; Beside my father's bed, T)ie memory of your dawning love Shall ease my throbbing head." She turned her face towards the sea, Her feet upon the bark ; The soul of that young maiden Queen With sorrow's cloud was dark. The mystery of that time must float O'er the living and the dead, Till the Judge Ms books hath open'd, And another book is read," 8Tf THE COMING ELECTION. "And who kDow«rth whether he U come unto the kingdom for suob a t ^le aa this." — BiBLB. WBITTEN O.f THE RETURN OF ISAAC BUCHANAN, ESQUIRE, AS MEMBER FOR THE CITY OF HAMILTON. A Strife at hand, but not of war, 'A battle, not of words ; Dark hosts are hovering to instil, Poison through deeds and words ; Knvy and falsehood stand engaged, To do their deadly part ; Justice and truth watch mournfully. Knowing the human heart — A time to trj* men's soul's within, And now, electors, which shall win ? 6 THE ACACIA. Vote not for party ; but for him Whom in an honest heart, You deem most fitting to maintain, Your country's prosperous part ; For this elective franchise stands, A sacred solemn trust, To tell on nations yet unborn, When you are in the dust ; Let not corruption stain your souls, Down, down with bribery from the polls. What, are ye serfs ? Ah, Afric's sons Beneath their chains may toil. And groan with fetters on their limbs, Upon a foreign soil ; But that white man is more than slave Who, for a paltry dower, Will sell his conscience for the price, Of rank, or place, or power, And dare a perjured name subscribe While clasping close the glittering bribe. Think, and think deeply, ere you pledge, Your name on either side ; Think honest, free, unshdckled thoughts. And think for all you guide ; Nor let the pen of history write, To tell the coming age, You dared to sell your nation's rights, Your children's heritage ; No, vote as free-born of the sod. And vote as in the sight of Ood. ii THK ACACIA. 89 Be watchful ; there are gathering clouds Hovering round our heads, Be guarded ; there are treacherous hearts, And treason round us treads ; Who knoweth what the coming years, May speedily unfold, We yet may need, strong arms, true hearts. To guard our sacred fold, And hand untorn, untarnished down, Our Flag, our Bible, and our Crown. The sun of British liberty, O'er us in splendour breaks, We need no Eagle talons here, No Southern rattlosnaLes ; Then vote in honor, truth, and right, Remembering there is One, Who watcheth with unbiased eyes, Words bret ned and actions done. And close by his unerring hand. Doth his recording angel stand. I' THE CITIES OF OLD. Cities and men, and nations, have pass'd by, Like leaves upon an Autumn's dreary sky ; Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud, Like drops of rain on summer^s fleecy cloud ; Like flowers of a wilderness, Vanished into forgetfulness. Ai ..V'^. #•. V] .? /^ ''a ^1 ^ / y ^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I li£|2^ 12.5 ■^ 1^ 12.2 - lis iio 1.25 m u lli, I Photographic Sdences Corporation // 4.0 m V- y ^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 v.. 4i^ ^ f s> ci^ 90 THE ACACIA. 0! Nineveh, thou city of young Ashur's pi'do, With thy strong towers, and thy bulwarks wide ; Ah ! while upon thee splashed the Tigris' waters, How little thought thy wealth-stored sons and daughters, That Cyaxerses and his troops should wait, For three long years before thy massive gate ; Then Modes and Persians by the torches' light, Should ride triumphantly thy streets by night ; And from creation banish thee, 1 Nineveh. 1 Nineveh. And country of the pride of Mizriam's heart, With pyramids that spoke thy wealth and art ; Why is it that no minstrel comes, who sings Of all the glory ot thy shepherd kings ? Tyre, why are thy walls in ruins thus ; Why is thy name so seldom spoke by us ? Sidon, among the nations thou art fled, Thy joy departed and thy glory dead ; Far gone are all thy generations, Fallen nations I Fallen nations ! And Babylon, with all thy thronging bands, The glory of Chaldea's ancient lands ; Thy temple, where a numerous host was seen, Thy gardens hung to please the Midian queen ; Where beauteous flowers smiled on their terrace beds, Proud kings have passed through thee, and crowned heads'; And grandeur and magnificence could view, In thee, a resting place, thy stores not few ; Why is it thou art all alone ? 01 Babylon. 0! Babylon! THE AOACIA And Greece, who shone in literature and might, When Marathon's broad plains saw sword and fig'ht Thy monumental ruins stand alone. Decay has breathed upou thy sculptured stone And desolation walks thy princely halls, The green branch twines around thy olden walls ; And ye who stood the ten years' siege of Troy, Time's fingers now your battlements annoy; Why is it that thy glories cease ? ! Classic Greece. ! Classic Greece ! And thou, best city of all olden time, 1 we might weep for thee, and chosen clime. City, where Solomon his temple reared, City, where gold and silver stores appeared ; City, where priest and prophet lowly knelt, City, where God in mortal flesh once dwelt. Titus, and Roman soldiers, laid thee low, The music in thy streets has ceased to flow ; Yet wilt thou not return in joy once more, And Lebanon give up her cedar store ? And vines and ohves smile as now they smile. Yet not upon the ruin of a holy pile ? Wilt thou Destructions flood not stem ? Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! Cities and men, and nations, have gone by, Like leaves upon an Autumn's dreary sky ; Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud, Like drops upon the summer's passing cloud ; Like flowers of a wilderness. Vanished into forgetfulness. 91 92 THE ACACIA. i A RELIC OF RUSSIAN WARFARE. Addressed to a Baton supposed to have belonged to a Russian Field Marshal, and picked up by an Officer of the Rifle Brigade after the taking of the Redan, and now used by the Band Master of that gallant Corps. Relic of war and strife, Tell us a tale of the past, Speak of the gathering hosts of men That came at the bugle blast. Who was the first and the last to fall ; What was the prize of the Rifle ball ? After the battle. Whose fingers had grasped thee then, When the bold Field Marshal rode, A s the dauntless armies gathered in, And glittering armour glowed, When didst thou fail with the helpless slain ? What was with thee on that conflict plain ? After the battle. Banners and flags were claimed, All won from the Northern Bear, While stands of arms and blood-stained swords^ Lay piled for the victors there. Were these the richest spoils of the ground ? No, something more precious than these were found,, After the battle. Corpses of gallant men. Lay cold and stark on the field, Hands and arms that had drawn the sword, For their native country's shield, THE AOAOIA. 93 Tokens of love upon brave hearts pressed, "Were found 'mid the blood-stains on many a breast, After the battle Soldiers! who saw the strife, You know the price that was paid, When trenches and rifle pits learnt The name of the " Rifle Brigade." Your brothers,your comrades from home's sweet shore. Went out in their glory, but came no more, After the battle. Relic of war and strife. Changed is thine office now, The sweetest harmony wakes for thee. And the powers of music bow Mid the thrilling strains of that glorious band, Do'st thou ever have dreams of that Russian land ? After the battle. Relic of war and strife. Will they call thee forth again, To lead the bold with a cheering song To the conqueror's battle plain. Lead on, thou wilt marshal as brave a clan, As were found in the Malakoff or Redan, After the battle. n THE ACACIA. THE DIRGE OF LLEWLLYN— THE EVE BEFORE HIS EXECUTION. Mordrod, behold your brother ! look on your friend and king, You will see me never more upon the boundless wing ; They've torn the crown from off my brow, the sceptre from my liaud, The Saxon monarch proudly rides his war steed through my land. The fire of the English torch has flamed o'er hut and hall, Ah ! the archers have shot grievously over the border wall, My people, oh, my people dear ! you'll say farewell for me. The brave, true hearts of Britain — as their rocks and moun- tains free. Our Church, our Church ! oh, tell my sons to guard it with their blood, To keep their mountains and their homes, a temple pure to God; When their hearts grow weak and weary, when the tired spirit fails. There is hope, and strength, and comfort, in the fastnesses of Wales. Let the taithful gather near to Bangor Wydrin's spires, And nerve again their British souls from the ashes of their sires ; Beware ye of the Romish power, they'll bring it to be nursed, Where the Holy Apostolic Church of Britain flourished first. THE ACACIA. 96 Uy brother ! oh, my brother ! who so bravely by my side, Brought for his country's- freedom, to gain it would have died; Mordred, had you a brother, nursed by the same fond hand, And such a one as David, the bravest in our band. Could you bear to see him brought a slave, into a tyrant's hold, They who in holy Palestine, together fought of old ; Ah 1 my brave brother lies beneath, he dies at rise of sun, There's a blessing on us yet, if in death they make us one. Mordred, I've much to tell you, are you list'ning deeply now? I've secrets to disclose to you — pass the crusader's vow ; You lemember her I fondly loved, one who in young life died, The fairest flower of this fair earth, Llewllyn's chosen bride. Well I remember as we knelt in the Abbey by the sea, How the brilliant stars and the young new moon, shone upon her and me ; I cannot mourn as once I did, when I knew that she was dead. For I am glad her gentle soul, from this sad trouble fled. Ah! had Llewllyn's heart been all the English Princess' own, And Edward claimed a rightful heir, to rule on Cambria's throne ; Had ihe Earl of Leicester's daughter, been less beautiful and dear, We never should have met, Mordred, as we are meeting here. You to weep o'er a fallen king, an eagle captured now, I to lament a nation's chains, a daughter's crownless brow ; But love is free and fetterless, a bird who bares its breast, To storm and tempest, sea and surf, may it but gain its neat. 90 THE ACACIA. A daughter, yes, my daughter, you have not seen her yet, But they tell me high-born pride and love, in her fair brow have met ; I've looked into her dark eyes, to read what Fate may say, Oh ! Mordred from my orphan child, you will not turn away. But never let the nation know where falls the Royal lino. Nor let them suffer for her wrongs, as they have done for mine ; There are steeps in Cader Ibris, where many a stout heart fails. In a cottage on the mountain, lives the Princess of old Wales. As years roll on, oh! tell her then, of her father's white plumed crest. Of the Eagrle, and the Harp of Wales, and the Red Cross on his breast ; Tell her that Cambria is her home, her ancient fatherland, All Britons are her brethren, a firm and trusty band. But if, Mordred, in years to come, beside the Severn water, A fair-haired Saxon Chief should come, to seek Lie wily n's daughter ; Breathe not upon the shrine of Love, chide not the worship- per. Her mother was from England, her father's friends are there. Mordred, farewell ! I meet my doom as calmly as the sun Retires to the distant west, his daily journey done ; I've been the messenger of Heaven, to my brethren and my foes, And now He wills to call me home where life undying glows. THE ACACIA. 97 "Would you think of me as ought of earth when I have passed away, Let it be of a pillar broken by a storm of mighty sway, Let Love be bending o'er me the light of Truth as well. Earth, Wales, my brethren, Mordred, my daughter, all fare- well. PRAYER FOR THE ABSENT. Evening's gloom is round me now — Evening's breeze is whisp'ring low — Gentle, murmuring voices wake From the ripples of the lake ; Maker of the land and sea, Hear my humble evening plea ; Father ! hear me as I pray — One I love is far away. Guide the bark that bears him on — Guard him till the goal is won — Up the mountain's towering height, *Mid the misty damps of night, In the city's swelling throng, With the wood-dove's sweetest song, By the river's lonely marge. O'er him give thy angels charge. In his hours of gladsome mirth Round some old and welcome hearth — In the halls of keen debate, 'Mid the pomp and pride of state, THE ACACIA. Cheer his spirit with love's beams, Lighten up his midnight dreams ; In hifl wand'rings, free and wild, Father, keep him, like a child. From the pestilential blight, From the sunbeams' scorching light, From temptation's mighty power In some lone, unguarded hour, From the dangers that we know. From the dark, undreamt-of foe, From the death-splash of the wave, Saviour, hear, and help, and save. Hear him, as he bends the knee, Craving richest gifts for me ; As the hours of darkness roll Doth our farewell haunt his soul ; Banish pain from that high brow, Heal his spirit, anguished now, Safely mark his chequered track. Safely, Father, bring him back. THE RUINS OF COPAN. What do ye there, ye ruins vast? What mighty spirits brood Among those interlacing boughs. In that far solitude ? THE ACACIA. 99 Have ye no tongues, ye polished shafia ? Speak, speak, ye sculptured stone ; — Who answered back ? the river's tide, The wind's low mournful tone. Temple, why there 9 A mighty skill Has unto thee been given ; Why is that pillar crumbling low ? Why is that altar riven ? Plummet and line have told how true Thy architecture stands ; Hammer and chisel worked for thee, Held in a master hands. Is there no storied urn to tell Who holds the stolen key That shall unlock the wondrous tale Of this wild masonry ? The traveller stands in solemn maze, And asks with anxious breath If thou hast no known history Of life, and love, and death. No stories of the knights who crossed Their swords before thy face, No record of the bride who knelt There in her blushing grace ? No carved names of the first crowned kings, No stain of teardrops shed, Where priests within thy massive pile Sang masses for the dead. Did Mizeriam's sons in worship bend Where yonder idol smiles, 41 100 THE ACACIA. I Or the dark-eyed sons of old Castile Tread poudlj down thy aisles ? Banner and lance, have they not flashed ? And heads of clustering hair, Have they not bowed in that lone porch And Hsped their childhood's i)rayer ? Far in the glowing Eastern lands Each footstep tells its tale, Of warrior strife, of woman's love, Of flushing brows grown pale. Round Greece, and Rome, and Egypt's shore Genius and Art entwine, And a world has turned in ecstacy Toward Holy Palestine. But thou, a fugitive, a child, Lost to thy household band, A lone bird wandered from its nest, Into a foreign land. But hope, fair ruins, hast thou nought More precious than this heap, Where Strength and Beauty, though in tears, Still their lone watching keep. Cheer up, sweet stranger, all unknown, Surely within thy shade, The dust which God himself protects. Among thy stones is laid. And on the resurection morn. Deathless redeemed man Shall rise to immortality, 'Mid ruins of Copan. THE ACACIA. 101 THE LITTLE CHILD. There was a spot on nature's breast, Decked with rich fruits and summer flowers Tlie gentle dove built there her nest, Among the blooming rose -hung bowers ; Around the household plenty smiled, Love wreathed her fairest diadem, " And Jesus took a little child, 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, 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 gloomed, From thence the king to earth had come, To see how vines and olives bloomed, He found a rose-bud — took it home, Where trees of life have ever smiled ; Founts wreath a sparkling diadem, " The Saviour loved the little child. And set him in the midst of them." There hosts of glory ever wait 'Round dwellings undefiled by sin. And guard each everlasting gate Which lets the King of Glory in; 102 THE AOAOIA. 1 The singers stayed their miipic mild, Which soundeth ne'er a requiem — They stayed to hear the little child " Jesus set in the midst of them." For ever shall that angel band Rest in the country paved with love, The turtle's voice is in the land, In clififs of rock there dwells the dove ; Harps, crowns, and palm-branches are piled For daughters of Jerusalem— Bless'd each inhabitant, each child, " Jesus sets in the midst of them." THE SOLDIER OF AUVERGNE. 'Tw«s midnight and the soldier took H 3 lone and quiet march, The icon's bright rays fell gloriously, Up n the forest arch — And irough that forest's dreary gloom, Fi L twenty leagues away. The rmy of the enemy "Waited the dawn of day. The watcher listened, for he heard The wild wolfs dismal howl, A crashing of the underbrush, Betrayed his wary prowl ; Yet where the branches thickest weave, The soldier took his way ; He started, — for a band of foes, Had seized him as their prey. THE ACACIA. 103 He was a captive — one strong hand Upon his lips did Ue, While in hoarse whispers rung their words, " Betray us and you die." Warm love was nestling at his heart, Warm life was in his veins, One dream of love, of life, of home, One dream of captive chains. 'Twas but a moment, and he thought Of those who slept around, Safe and secure, while he kept watch Upon the sentry ground. 'Twas but a moment, and a flush Passed o'er his cheek and brow ; His voice rang on the midnight air, "Auvergnel Auvergnel the foe I The swords that in the moonlight shone Upon his bosom rushed, And from the dauntless soldier's heart Life's streamlets quickly gushed. Yet ere his beaming eye was closed, He saw his brethren's lance, Trampling down bush and brake, he heard The cavalry of France. He felt strong arms around him placed, He saw thefr princely train ; A nation's thanks were in his ears, — He had not died in vain. '13 104 THE ACACIA. They laid him, while the ho3t pursued The fast retreating foe, Beneath that glorious flag for which He laid himself so low. 1 may it be that when, if e'er, So dire a fste we claim, And through our country loud resounds War's fearful, shuddering name — Then may our hearths and households yield, Then may our foemen learn, We have such hearts as sleep beneath The banner of Auvergne. THE POET'S EVENING PRAYER. The moon is on the sea. And the night winds are rustling in the pines, Low echoing to the soft notes of the dove ; The humming-bird is nestling in the vines, And I am come, Father, in heaven above, To plead with thee. Thou, my God, hast given Into my hands a delicate harp, well strung, Trembling, I touch its wires, lest I should mar Itfl'sweet, reproofless numbers, sweetly hung hy Him who gave us melody from far, E'en from Thy heaven. THE ACACIA. If I have stayed the feet Which hurried onward to the haunts of crime ; If I have bid one angry passion cease — If I have woke one memory of past time, One dream of innocence, of home, of peace, Of childhood sweet. If, from the grave-yard's sod, The gentle words of comfort have passed by, And blunted the sharp edges of affliction's spears ; If I have set a rainbow in the sky ; If eyes have set in smiles which rose in tears, I bless thee, God. Darkness is drawing round me — I B.m drawing nearer unto Thee — for here, Weary and faint, I fain would slumber long, Trembling lest unseen danger should be near, Trusting, because I know Thine arm is strong, Thy love hath bound me. When the world's rollmg tide Is cold around me, and I pass along. Unheeded and unloved — a stranger here — This sweet, pure gift of thine, waking to song, Cheers my lone spirit, and I feel thee near. Close by my side. 0, give me grace and Hght, So to return thy lyre at the last That thou'lt confess the ofiTring, though time-tost, And soiled with fingers of an earthly cast, Owning, I have not in the deep earth lost Thy treasure bright. 106 I 106 THE ACACIA. It I one thought have stirred Which should have slumbered in oblivion dark, Where I have sinned by word, by smile, or frown, 0, be Thou merciful my sins to mark — Send thy mild angel of forgiveness down With love's sweet word. And now I go to sleep — 0, let me calmly dream upon my pillow ; Let me rest, sweetly leaning on Thy breast, Until the rosy light touches the billow ; Let thy bright angels guard my place of rest While night dews weep. At last — so let it be, When I have sung the poet's dying song, And my hands chill with death's overwhelming wave, Grant me to gladly pass from earth's full throng, Knowing Thy love will wake me from the grave To be with Thee. BURIAL OF THE UNKNOWN. [The weary traveller turned aside for repose and rest ; the fever of a burning climate bad wasted bis form, and the dying strnnger came among us but to die. He met with all the commiseration and sympathy such circumstances demanded, and was buried by the Brethren of that Society ot which he proved himself a free and accepted Member.] Sleep, stranger, sleep In your burial alone ; Strange are the forms round your lonely bier clinging: Sleep, stranger, sleep; Strange are the voices your requiem singing : THE ACACIA. lOT 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 fair girls wait for this hour, With heart's love beating ; A lover who sees not the gathered flower, Nor place of meeting ; A father whose children are watching for him, From the morning light to the midnight dim, Oh I weep for his lot. Last home of the brave, We bring 'neath your pale, One whom we name not, he died with this train. And lonely his grave ; But we trust in our Saviour to see him again. Where bright angels wave ; For he spake of his home in a realm away, Of the King in His beauty and mansions of day, Growing bright for him. So we give him Thee : Now, sisters, sing The lay that the sleeper sang in his death ; Ah ! ye may weep ; For sad was the sound of that home-sent breath, And prayer for sleep ; But weVe closed the bright eye and laid the dark lock, On the brow which grew cold as the wave-stricken rock ; Now bend the knee. 108 THE AOACIA. Brothers 1 we leave him In peace and rest ; Calm be his sleep, till the dawn of the morning, When we shall meet ; And the lone stranger's form the bright cloud 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 1 stranger, sleep I FESTIVAL OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. " The fire shall ever be burning, it shall never go out."— Biblb. Thousands of hearts to-day, Will mterchange the grasp of Friendship's hand Will round Love's altar celebrate their vows. The Altar whose bright fire ne'er burns out, The Altar at whose shrine the weary bows, And rises nerved for strife, In the fierce war of Life, Strong for the battle. Love's fire ne'er goes out. Change and transition round its altar pass, They breathe upon its gold, its brightness dim. But vanish as the breath-stain from the glass, Or dew drops from the rose leaf's delicate rim ; Noontide and day and night, Burns on the holy light, It goes out, never. THE ACACIA. 109 (( It never shall go out,** Time has rejoiced at his spoliations made, O'er classic temple and the sculptured fane, The lip of beauty and the arm of strength, Ah, he can triumph o'er his thousands slain ; One shrine he dare not drench, One flame he cannot quench; It goes out, never. " It never shall go out," 'Twas shadowed in Creation's glorious light, It flashed in the bright cherub's flaming sword, It glowed in the red bush on Horeb's mount. It gleamed in stately column on the horde. Of pilgrim's hastening on, From dreary Egypt gone ; It goes out, never. *' It never shall go out," Its rays came down in sweet acknowledgment, Of builders' work, when Hiram, King of Tyre, Solomon, and the widow's son, and thousands more, In the new temple felt the hallowed fire— To-day such friends have met, Such fire gleams o'er them yet. It goes out, never. For they are building on, Level and square, and chisel yet are found. Sharpened and bright for use, while stone by stone Changed from rough Ashler to the polished shaft, no THE ACACIA. Rises unheard to God and to St. John, No sound of hammer falls, While through the world's wide halls, The house is building. Saint John the Baptist, if In thy bright home of glory, thou dost see The hosts that breathe to-day thy cherished name, What will thy message to each votary be. One thou hast sent before ; oh, yes, the same ; " There cometh very nigh. One mightier than I, Preferred before me." Saviour — we humbly bow, Trembling because Thou art that One, Alone, Trusting because Thou art our Brother, Friend, In faith we ask for that blest fire of Love, Upon our heart's rude altar to descend. Till from Heaven's blazonry, And faultless masonry ; We pass out, never. FESTIVAL OF ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. Beloved St. John, Thou brightest star among the chosen twelve. Who wandered by thy loved Emmanuers side, With Him where valleys smile and mountains shelve, And where bright waters glide ; With Him in toil and care. With him in song and prayer, Holy St. John. THE ACACIA. m Favored St. John, Well may'st thou know the " voice like many waves " That spake with thee in Patmos' lonely isle, And showed thee lands beyond the line of graves, "Where trees of verdure smile ; Thou who didst take thy rest, Upon thy Saviour's breast, Favored St. John. Thy name, St. John, Hath been a password unto warrior bands, Victors have breathed it on their homeward march. And brave knights stricken down in foreign lands Have looked to heaven's blue arch. And told thy name to death, Murmuring with djang breath, God and St. John. Mystic St. John, The templar and the pilgrim are at rest ; And Knights of Malta sleep in plain and sea, With their red crosses mould'ring on their breast ; Yet far in Galilee, Through holy Palestine, Is carved on many a shrine — God and St. John. % Loving St John, Shall we forget thee, now thy name floats not Upon our banners in the day of strife, No, thy sweet voice shall cheer our lonely lot, The star-beam of our life, THE ACACIA. Our light *mid cloud and mist, Holy Evangelist, Lovmg St. John. God of St. John, Look on us in thy mercy while we kneel, Lone pilgrims from afar, pleading with Thee ; Winds from the chilly north around us steal, Tempest is on life's sea, Pour through the sky above, Light from the Source of Love, God of St. John. God of St. John, Keep from us if it pleaseth Thee the fire. Of Peter and St. Matthew's ready pen ; The cloven tongue ; the heaven-attuned lyre, Saviour of sinful men ; Let love to us be given, To win us up to heaven — Home of St. John. ■■ ! i ■ L ill << EVELYN'S LOYER AT HER DEATH-BED. I claim you still, delayed it may be, Through climes I shall travel not a few, Much to learn and much to forget, E're the time comes for my taking you. THE ACACIA. 118 So hush — I give you this leaf to keep, I shut it inside this sweet cold hand, That is our secret, now go to sleep, You'll wake, and remember, and understand." KVBLYN HOPB. He could not believe that she lay there dead ; That the thought had vanished from that fair brow. She had ever met him with many smiles, And ever with gentle words till now. So many years he had watched in vain, For one so guileless, so pure and true. And now in the dawn of his heart's first love, She had glided away like the morning dew. ** Twice her age," he had often thought, When his fingers twined in her curls of gold, How in the future, a widow's weeds, May band them down with its mournful fold. " Twice her age," 'tis no difference now, She will have sorrow and tears no more, " Twice her age," but that is no matter, Where reck'ning by days and years is o'er. He knew she would waken, the deathless ray, Of immortal life cheered his breaking heart. He knew she'd remember ; for memory's might, Lay safe in the hold of her deathless part. And at her waking would understand, Why she left him who was all her own. Ah, clouds that are dense and ways all dark, Glow in the light of the jasper throne. » I 1 r 114 TUE ACACIA. Ho felt that life was within him still, That his road branched far from that quiet spot, That many changes awaited him, Her work was finished, but his was not. Trouble may drench him with fearful storms, Temptation wild may that strong heart stir, On and on through Life's wilderness, Ere the time comes for his taking her. And so he left her, and turned away, "With a steady step and a tearless eye; But the ice lay heavily on his heart, And the sun was quenched in his manhood's sky. Ah, little we know of the cares and woes. The gnawing worm and the secret blight, That hold their revels in human breasts, Deeply hidden from mortal sight. M Healer of hearts, that are broken and worn, Gather thy sheep from all dreary ways, Where they have scattered and driven been, Throughout the cloudy and dismal days. Fold us, oh fold us, beloved, ere long, Safe in the precincts of that bright land, Where others beside sweet Evelyn Hope, Shall " wake, and remember, and understand." ti!i THR ACACIA. THE PILGRTM'8 SONCf OF CONFIDENCE. " I will truat and not bo afraid. "-Bible. My path is in the wilderness, My way is in the desert wild, And dreary wastes and loneliness Mingle with rocks, in terror piled ; Yet One has promised — Tie will guide To lands whose treasures have no rust ; I have upon His strength relied — Can He sustain me ? ** I will trust I '* My path is through tho waters cold, And billows rise on every side ; I hear the noise where breakers rolled — I feel their overpowering tide ; A hand is on the flowing mane Of ocean's charger — halt it must- One holds the breakers' bridle-rein, And can he curb them ? '• I will trust I '* The noon-tide sun is high in heaven, Its rays are bending o'er my brow ; No streamlet 'mid this sand is given — No green oasis near me now; Nearer it comes — the siroc storm — Scorching and burning is its dust; Yet I saw One in human form — The Good Physician— " I will trust I " The evening cometh ; I would rest, And in forgetfulness repose, But rain-drops stream upon my breast^ Forbidding my worn eyes to close; n» lie THE AOAOIA. Yet 'mid the tempest's hollow moan, The lightning's glare, the whirlwind gust, I surely heard a soft, low tone — I know its whisper — " I will trust ! " As on my weary way I passed, A bright star lit my midnight sky ; I prized its beauty — but a blast With heavy clouds went sweeping by — A voice came murmuring from nlu , " Mourner, yield not to sad mistrust ; Again shall gleam that star of love, Fond and for ever ; " "I will trust ! " Oh 1 can it be there waits on high A mansion now prepared for me ? And can I bear each weary sigh Until those golden gates I see ? Can He who loves preserve from harm, Ke-animate my mould 'ring dust. Fold me within his shelt'ring arms, Happy for ever ? " I will trust I " DEATH OF CAPTAIN HBADLEY VICARS. There were sounds of armies gathering, Unto the cannon's roll; There were sounds of martial melody, - Before SebastopoL ,, , ,. , ^!;i THE AOAOIA. Courage was mantling in the breast, Fire in many an eye, As Britain's gallant hosts move on, To conquer or to die. There were noble veterans in that train, Who boasted many a scar, There was one who led his gallant band, Young in those scenes of war, — Young, but how loved, ah, many an eye, That saw him arming there. Was raised to bless him as his voice, Broke through the misty air, " This way, 97th." *' By the flags which o'er us wave, All that makes the brave heart brave ; By the ties of home's sweet band, Sheltered on our native land, By the ashes of our sires, — By the light of Britain's fires, *• This way gtth." ** By the burning vows that rest, Deep within the patriot's breast, By the bayonets that gleam, In the young moon's flickering beam ; Though we stand on danger's marge, God will help us,— up and charge, " This way 97 th." " He will arm us for the fight, Ozi this strange, this fearful night, 117 118 THE ACACIA. Ere we rout the treacherous foe, Some of us may slumber low ; See that each is ready — then, Fight and die like Christian men, " This way 97 th I " *' Forward ; victory is ours, Though we fall beneath yon towers ; England's glory is our crest, England's colors wrap our breast, Let the trenches witness bear, That the dauntless brave fell there, " This way 97th ! " Fierce was the battle, wild the strife — The ground beneath them rang ; Redan and Malakoff that night Echoed the musket's clang. Two thousand of the treacherous host Advanced through that dark sky ; Two hundred of Victoria's men Had met them at the cry — " This way 97th I " They fought and conquered, but the voice, That led them bravely on, The tone that cheered their lion-hearts For evermore was gone ; Yet as his life-blood flowed apace, He saw the victory won, And once more shouted as he fell, *' Comrades, the foemen run," — . *' This way 97th ! '* THE ACACIA. 119 He died as many have gone down, Who bear the warrior's crest, With a treasured name upon his lips, And a locket on his breast. Oh, would ye learn how brave men fight, Go where the bravest lie, And would ye learn how fond hearts love, And how true Christians die — **This way 9^1'* Ye who beside him fought and won, Still may ye hear the sound That from the watch, the camp, the war, Hath gone to holier ground I The voice that failed on Russia's plain Awoke to sweeter song ; And still he whispers by your side, While beckoning on your throng — «• This way 9'7th I *» Oh, ye throughout our lands who gird The sword upoif your side, And stand prepared in danger's hour To rush in battle's tide. Scorn not. to seek the light he sought, Scorn not the path he trod. Through woes to victory on earth, Then glory with his God. 120 THE ACACIA. THE YOIOB 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 Greenlander benumbed when his path he crossed- 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 viTorship there ; — Where the cocoa branches wave high and tall, And its clustering leaves are its capitol ; And the ariel ftg 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 ACACIA. The larch rejoices in my bright form, "With the cedar groves an J my rays are warm, From the mullet's fin, 'neath the Southern breeze, To the hacc-moren of Norwegian seas. 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. Melody pours from each blossomed spraj'- ; From the jewel-lit isles of the Southern main, Where tropical birds in their glory reign ; These rise to me mingling sweetly wild, With the note of the ulk to the North exiled. isi I. am in the kraal of the Hottentot, The Indian wigwam and Hindoo cot ; In the Sultan's pavilion, my ray doth dance. And the monarch's robe is gUt with my glance ; My beams are spread o'er the rolling world, As showers of spar from volcanoes hurl'd, As bright falling leaves 'neath autumnal rain, As drops of dew from a lion's mane. m THE ACACIA. I traverse the shore and I sail o'er the deep, For ages IVe shone nor seek I for sleep, — If you love my light as I softly beam, From the valleys fresh to the mountain stream ; 1 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, "FAR BETTER." *'l ]i«T« a detirc to depart and be with Chriat, which it &r better."— St. Pavi> " Far better ! " oh, how sweet The glance of morn, When thousand dew-drops lie On bush and thorn ; But oh I to ope the eyes upon that shore Where storm and darkness cometh nevermore, Is far, " far better ! » Luscious are fruits that grow In sin-cursed mould ; Bright gleams the purple vine, The orange gold ; But oh ! to cool Oij.r parching lips vnth fruit That grows around the Tree of Life's best root Is far, " far better ! " THE AOAOIA. Soft are the winds that make The lillies quiver In their fair summer home, Down by the river ; But ah I to feel new life within us fann'd By the warm breezes of Emmanuel's land, Is far, ''far better! " tts Warm is the cheerful glow Of friendship's fire, But arms that fondly clasp May fail or tire ; Then, oh ! to close the weary eyes and rest Upon one loving and unchanging breast, Is far, **far better 1 >) There's music in the splash Of helm and oar — There's music in the waves Kissing the shore — But oh ! to hear the harmony whose tone Hath never whispered *' changed " or lost" or "gone,*' Is far, " far better I " Earth has its homes of love, Its hearts' devotion — It has its graves and tears, Wars and commotion ; Then to start forth and cross the dreary sea ; Oh ! to " depart and with our Christ to be, Is far " far better I " •J lU THE ACACIA. UNDER THE SNOW. Snggeated by the Hight of some early Spring Violets, galhored in their full beauty from under the snow. Not with hot-house air around them Wove these leaves their purple woof — Damp and darkness closely bound them, Snow and ice their only roof ; Yet they grew, well nursed for duty, When tempests blow, Smiling in their maiden beauty, Under the snow. Yes, their velvet cheeks were pressing Close against the sunny fold, That with its congealed caressing, Sheltered them from fiercer cold ; Like some friend, whose kind direction Banisheth woe. From the hearts which seek protection Under the snow. We have looked on nature blighted, Sighed for summer days swept past, Like the mariner benighted By the storm and tempest blast, Passing onward, little knowing That as we go, Prisoners of sweet hope are growing Under the snow. THE ACACIA. 136 Ah 1 how oft our woes we number Wrongly judging in this world, Friendship seems in gloom to slumber, Truth's bright banner closely tiirl'd Till some sunbeams' calm revealing, Sheddeth its glow, On true hearts, their love concealing, Under the snow. Are we not like summer flowers, Youth and childhood pass away, Leaves are fulling from the bowers, Care and toil make up the day, Heavy rains and frost-winds teach us Trouble to know. Courage ; God's warm breath can reach us Under the snow. Mourner, hast thou laid no treasures, With the mould upon each breast ? While the rough wind takes its pleasures, They are in a dreamless rest ; Cease those swol'n eyes from weeping, Buried so low, God will keep his darlings sleeping Under the snow. Farewell Spring's first violet. Thy sweet work of love is o'er, In the angel's alphabet ; Thou hast spoken of that shore |M THE AOAOIA. Where the quenchless sun burns stronger, Life in its glow, Flowers bloom, but bloom no longer, Under the snow. (( (( <( KING EDWIN AND THE THANE. A TALE OF THE OLDKN TIME. They met upon the Yorkshire hills, King Edwin of the North, His chiefs, hi^ nobles, serfs and thanes, From Tyne, and Esk, and Forth ; Ah, not to fight my warriors,'' Spake out the fair-haired king. Put down the sharpened battle-ax e^ Loosen the crossbow's string. A stranger from the sunny south, With a cross upon his breast, Is come to tell us of his God, And of strange countries blest; My trusty followers, shall we hear The words he hath to say ; Speak out, for I have summoned him To wait on us to-day." The pagan priests looked frowningly. And loudly answered, '* No,*' And through the king's upheaving breast, Wild thoughts swayed to and fro, THE ACACIA. in When suddenly amongat the boat, A Chief rose on the plain ; *' Now hush ye all " spake out the king, ** And list my trusty thane." "• Oh king, most wise and well-beloved, we are not here in vain, It may be that the hand is near, to loose the galling chain ; Remember you, oh, king, how oft when winter*s blast blew ' high, And heavy storms and darkness swept across the evening sky; When we were feasting merrily within tliy banquet hall, And the fires were flashing brightly upon the oaken wall ; A Uttle fluttering bird Hew in and basking in the light, Hovered above thy princely head, then vanished in the night. We know not whence the flatterer came, we knew not whence it went, Now pause, oh, king ! liave we not those out into darkuess sent; The iron arms that with our own, waved battle-axe Mud sword, The crimson lips that smiled on us around the hearth and board ; The grey hairs that with pilroch straiu, wo chieftains have laid low, The Cherub Prince who left our king but one sliort month ago. Where are they gone? Edwin the good, our noble leader brave, 'Tis said this dark-eyed stranger knows of One who died to save ; 128 THE ACACIA. Of One who opened gates of gold, for victors brave and fair, Who owns a country far and blest, and takes our lost ones there. Edwin the good, at thy command, beside the dusty way, The sparkhng foimtains have sprung up to give their cooling spray, To weary foot-worn traveller, to steed with flank of foam, Edwin the beautiful ! unlock the founts of life and home. And the king arose in majesty, Beckoning the stranger on, And hour after hour passed by, The light of day was gone ; But king and people bowed them down. Before the Name unpriced, Then rose to cast their altars down. And live and die for Christ. THE OFFICER'S FAREWELL. A gallant Officer, having pledged his affection to hia earliest and only love, left Scotland for the scenes of war. By a well-concerted plan he received news of tho death of Lis affianced bride, and previous to his return home he was induced to marry the sister (^f liis Commanding Officer. On his arrival home, he discovered the plot to ruiu his happiness ' he sought one interview with the Idol of his heart, and soon after his return to India fell in battle. — Records of tub Fallen. The moonbeam fell upon the glen and 'neath the trysting tree — There were bright eyes flashing fire — there were tear-drops falling free ; THE ACACIA. m ) and * t onep their )am, me. left Scotland dcBth of bii B siBter I'f his iH happiness "' 1 to India fell J trysting .ear-drops At length, as the young moon rose up, the solemn silence broke, And like music on the quiet air the gentle maiden spoke : " Thou art come to say a long farewell — a cloud is on thy brow — There was hope within our last adieu that is not in it now ; But oh ! may blessings round thee pour ; peace nestle at thy side; Hush I breathe no words of tenderness — you have another bride. "Tis hard to feel an iron hand keeping the fond heart down — Hard for the lion to crouch still, for a title and a crown — But Alick, bear up manfully, and leave to heaven the rest ; The Red Cross flutters round thy head — let it nestle on thy breast. The storm has beat around my head ; I bowed before the blast, And a calm and holy quietude has settled there at last ; Though I know another jewelled hand is clasped between these twain, And another head is pillowed here where mine so ofl has lain. " Deal gently with your titled bride — her spirit cannot soar To heights your eagle pinions beat ; the sound of ocean's roar, The music of the young fresh winds among the groves of pine, Hath to her ear no melody, e'en as it hath to thine ; There's a dreamy languor in her eyes of pure and gentle hue, But there gleams no light of depths of love behind the veil of blue ; 130 THE ACACIA.. But oh 1 dear Alick, for the sake of the one now by your side, Avenge not wrongs she could not aid upon your youthful bride. " Our paths are variod now, Alick — we will not meet again— The noble ship unfurls her sails to waft you o'er the main ; I'll stay beneath yon cottage roof— you'll dare the eiroc blast — Our paths are varied now, Alick, but they end in one at last, There's mercy in the knowledge that rich blessings for us wait — That broken hearts are current coins at the eternal gate ; Oh 1 let us linger patiently, battling the hosts of sin. Knowing that One we both adore will gladly let us in. But let us make one promise more, beneath this rising moon, That whichsoe'er is earliest called to that unclouded noon, When its kindred bark shall anchor fast upon the golden sand. Shall be the first to greet it home into the spirit land. Your arm has still its iron grasp — there's a fire in your eye— And your soldiers do not look on you as one that's like to die ; But I should not wonder, Alick, if you're first to slumber low, For cannon-blast and sabre-point are heedless where they go, ** Hark, Alick I for the bugle's roll is on the evening air, And hearts of Scotland's richest blood are waiting for you there ; THE ACACIA. 131 r your luthful gam- aain ; 9 eiroc at last, for us Breathe peace and pardon for your foes ; farewell ! no more we'll meet, Until the everlasting hills our tearful eyes shall greet." And midnight came as it had come a thousand times before, And the shadows of the trysting tree were lit with splendor o'er; And brightly in the morning light the grass shone green and new » Though broken hearts had pressed it, and tear-drops were its dew. ate; in. ig moon, noon, e golden i. )ur eye— t's like to » slumber re they go. ig air, ng for you WAITING FOR THE BELL TO RING. On the artisan is toiling, Blackened by the dust and smoke ; On the laborers are delving Since the light of morning broke, Weak and weary, but a vision Of sweet home a charm doth bring, And with strength renewed they labor, Waiting for the bell to ring. Oh I through earth's immense plantation Do no weary spirits roam, Crowned heads who sigh for even Statesmen longing to go home. Gentle hearts the heat has blighted, Captive birds who sadly sing, Slaves who work in golden fetters, Waiting for the bell to ring. 183 THE ACACIA. Some have done their task — are resting On the hill-side, in the sea — Lance at rest, the troops are waiting Underneath the willow tree ; Maidens, with their silent tresses, Infants, rosebuds, nipped in Spring, Matrons, with their worn arms folded, Waiting for the bell to ring. Let us toil on, patiently, Faint and weary, worn and tired, Up, onward still, " Excelsior I " With an inward zeal we're fired ; Not forever must we labour 'Mid rough iron's ceaseless ding, Hope is nestling in our bosoms. Waiting for the bell to ring. Fellow-craftsmen, in the mountain, Toiling at the unhewn stone, Firmer grasp the square and chisel, Till the ashler is our own ; Balance truly line and plummet — Build the temple to our King ; Courage I we are all expectants. Waiting for the bell to ring. Soon shall come the Lord of labour Into vineyard, garden, field ; Soon shall sound his glorious accents, " Yo are with my promise sealed ; THE ACA.CIA. 133 Come into my glorious chambers — Angels bright your victories sing- Ye were ready at my coming, Waiting for the bell to ring." FUNERAL AT SEA. We buried at sunset, The loving and brave, While the robe of eve mot On the dark tossing wave ; We 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 ; The sunset's rich dye, And the azure of Heaven, Together beamed soft, And mellowed the fold, Of the sun-light which streamed aft, In purple and gold. We asked for the fresh turf For him who had died, And there answered the surf, And the white foam replied ; So we chanted our hymn, And the wave sung the chorus, And evening grew dim. As the breakers rolled o'er ua. i1 I I- m V'l 134 THE ACACIA. Our organ-the wave crest, His vault-the dark waters. 'Mia the sun's dying fire. We laid down his head. Till " the sea shall " retire,^ And " give up her dead. MIDNIGHT. Midnight, strange and «« ^-^- Folded is each household flower , Not a sound is near me now Save the breeze's cadence low. And the patter of the ram Tapping on my window pane And the dripping of the eaves Falling upon withered leaves. Yet the sentry keeps his tramp Sl^Lnd round the soldier camp; Merry dancers move their feet To the music's measured beat; Sailors, far away at sea, List the waves' ^^ ^nelody And round many a downy bed tTved ones weep their newly dead. THE ACACIA. 186 Why dost thou forsake me, Sleep ? Closer to my pillow creep ; Thou hast sweet forgetfulness Of sorrow, pain and fretfulness ; Oh I so very like thou art, (Save the beating of thy heart And the coming of thy breath,) So like thy twin-brother, Death. I Like thy brother — will he come Robed like thee, to take me home ; Thou art fitful in thy clasp — He will come with iron grasp ; Thou art gentle, soothing, mild — I have known thee from a child ; He will come but once to me — Ah I when will that meeting "^e. God of midnight 1 wafi this hour Angels from thy star-gemmed tower ; While the clouds in sorrow weep, Give to thy beloved sleep ; Night by night, thy wardens send, Till we 'mid their numbers blend, Where, on thy sweet, summer shore, Darkness cometh nevermore. 1S6 THE AOAOU. THE QUEEN'S PRAYER. The king had girt his armor on, His good sword at his side ; His milk-white charger champs the bit, And foams in battle pride ; But good Queen Anne calmly sought The altar's peaceful shade, And low before her country's God Her warrior's cause she laid. No papal crucifix was there — Her slender fingers lay Upon the pages Wickliffe brought, Her fair form knelt to pray; Yet, as the Abbey bell pealed forth The fervid noontide hour, The maidens saw their Queen arise To seek the Warder's tower. The Warder from his tower replied, '* Ladye, ah ! far away, I hear the foeman's slogan cry, ' Down with the king to-day!' And faint and dying on the breeze, In smothered whispers low. ' God and St. George !' my brethren cry, In accents that I know. ** The foeman's chieftains ride and slay — England's are few and worn ; The foeman's banners kiss the sky — England s are soiled and torn." THE AOACIA. Day wore away, but still the Queon "Was kneeling all alone, Her long, dark curls fell heedlessly Upon the altar stone. L81 11 *' Yet once again," my Warder brave ; " Ladye, the foemen run ; The banners of our lord, the king, Wave in the setting sun ; *God and St. George !' from rock to rock, The coming conquerers cry ; 'God and St. George!' the founts and hills In echoes wild, reply." The army neared the castle gates — The minstrels' strains begun, And as the Warder closed them in, Told what the Queen had done. They sat them down around the board — The king, the chief the serf — Thev merrilv filled the festal bowl To the victory of the turf. They breathed their ' good Queen Anne's ' praise • Her name was pledged in wine, The princ-ess of old Luxenburgh, That knelt before her shnne. King Richard's brow grew fiush'd with pride, The ha jg'aty Leicester frown'd, To think that WickMe's tenets vile Had such an answer found. 188 THE AOAOIA. What won the battle on that day ? Asked many a stately knight, When gazing on his casque and shield. And blood-stained armor bright. What won the battle on that day ? A union strong and rare — The King of England's mighty arms, The Queen of England's prayer. VAIN DREAMS. •» Throughout the dreary day I walk, My path o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him."— ' Itallian Girls' Hviiir. Mother gazing on thy son. He thy firstborn only one, Look into his loving eyes, Clearer than the summer skies, Mark his course ; on scrolls of fame, Read his proud ancestral name, Pause ; a cloud that path will dim, Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him. Young^bride, for the altar crowned, Now thy path with his is bound, Will he keep each solemn vow ? Will he'^ever love as now? Ah, a^dreary shadow lies In the depths of those blue eyes ; Time will this day's glory dim, Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him. Sister, hath thy brother gone, To the field where fights are won t THE AOAOIA. 139 Ah, it was an hour of pride, When he last was by thy side ; Thou dost see him coming back, In the conqueror's glorious track ; Hush ; the bayonets earthward turn, Dream vain dreams ; he'll not return. Woman, by thy cottage green, Gazing on the sunset scene ; Ah, the vintage toil is o'er. But the gleaner comes no more ; Through the fields of burnished corn, Lo, a peasant's bier is borne, By that splashing river's brim, Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him. Maiden, who in every prayer, Breath'st a name thou dost not bear ; Sing thy gay light-hearted song, Ah, he will be back ere long, Back in all his manhood's pride, Back and with another bride ; Cease those bridal robes to trim, Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him. Earthly idols ; how we mould Sand with fruit, and clay with gold ; How we cherish crumbling dnst. Then lament our futile trust ; Saviour, who on earth didst prove, All the agony of love, Fit us for that better shore. Where they dream vain dreams no more. y 1j1 140 THE AOACIA. THE CROSS ON THE CARPET. Oppressed with the weight of life's cares which around me were pressing, And trying to feel out the right path for my feet in the darkness, With a heart very sad and a head wildly throbbing and aching, I sat down on the footstool and rested my head in my hands ; The room was still darkened and something within the still chamber, Seemed to the dark misty cloud which lay on my heart to re-echo ; Suddenly, as a fresh thought of sorrow arose on my vision, I raised up my head, and as I sat facing the window, There lay in its silvery beauty a brilliant cross on the carpet, Made by the light shining in through two chinks in the shutters. Which had gracefully swayed to return the salute of the south wind. It was but a gleam of a sunbeam's life-giving glances, At which thousands of eyes might have looked and seen nothing ; Nothing but hght streaming in through two chinks in the shutters ; But I thought of the mount where the sandalled footsteps of Moses Halted, to see the bright fire flame suddenly up in the branches : And I thought of the pillar of light which heralded Israel, S'orty long years, day and night through the wilderness ; THE ACACIA. 1414 And I tliought of the sign of our Christian militant warfare, And I asked myself was I fit to wear the Company's armour ; And that silvery cross that lay there beaming so still on the carpet, Seemed like the delicate fringe on the wing of Hope's angel, Or the flashing of Faith's trusty sword thrown back in the distance; So I learnt a sweet lesson from that brilliant cross on the carpet, And no more that day found room in my heart for mistrusting. "CALLIE." «' The flower fadeth." Fadeth ; ah I it cannot be That the voice so full of glee, And the merry tones of mirth Are for ever hushed on earlh ; And the flower of yesterday Mingles witli the earth-born clay, Can it be that lip and brow Lie in dreamless slumber now ? Wintry winds are mournfully Sweeping through the valley, Is it true their minor tones Wail the dirge of Callie? I n H '•'I I 149 THE ACACIA. Human beartp, the racked, the torn, Whither is your darling borne ; Can it be the grave alone Holds your Christ-redeem'd, your own ; Faith behold your cherished loss, Through the shadows of the cross. Look I among their daik'ning frown Gleams a little golden crown. See around a Seraph's form, Angel guardians rally — White-winged worshippers await Round the soul of Callio. Upward, where the lost have met, Where the sunbeams never set, Where the deathless branches bloom. Free from shadows of the tomb, Warmly folded, closely prest, To our dear Emmanuel's breast, 'Mid unbroken dreams of joy, They have borne the precious boy. One more little pilgrim passed. Through the dismal valley, One more golden harp new-strung. For your angel, Callie. THB AOACIA. 148 "SEMPER PARATUS." On the Freientatlon of the Colours to the 13th Bnttnlion of Canndian Volunteert. Whence come those armed men ? With the soldier's measured tread, Is the trump of War in our city's midst, Hath the Dove of sweet Peace fled ? Not yet, behold, passer by, what wreathes Round each true and loyal head, Read, stranger, read, for through coming years, Shall re-echo the watchword of Volunteers, " Semper paratus." They hail from the place of toil, They gather from hearth and home, From the busy mart, from the lawyers' desk, From garden bowers they roam ; From the whizzing of wheels, from the iron's clang, Freemen, they come, they come, Bone, muscle and sinew, true heart, strong hand, A small, but a fearless unshrinking band, *' Semper paratus." Unsullied honour and fame. Are writ in their glorious roll, And such words as suffering, and toil, and pain, Have entered each fearless soul ; But treason, dishonour, desertion, shame, These have no place in their scroll ; Watchfully, steadily, calmly they wait. The Wardens with eyes in each iron gate, ** Semper paratus." 144* THE AOACIA. War 1 omen of fearful sound, Have ye all considered it well ? Have ye thought on the long lone midnight watch ? Have ye thought on the dread farewell ? Have you dreamed of your comrades* arms reversed, And the drum's low m^.ffled knell, Of these colours drooped o'er your early grave ? What is your answer ye fearless brave ? " Semper paratus." Your country, your Queen, your God, Have asked this at your hands, Look, the meteor flag of old Eogland, waves O'er your lion-hearted bands ; Some tell us, that soon shall that emblem lie, To rot on Ontario's sands ; Will you give your blood, ere the foe shall drag From Canadian skies, that unsullied flag ? " Semper paratus." Remember the days of old, When Midian's standard reeled, Asa hundred and twenty thousand arms. Lay dead on the battle field ; Where only three hundred undaunted passed. Under Gideon's mighty shield ; Will the men of the 13th Battahon fight. With such fearful odds in the cause of right ? " Semper paratus." THE ACACIA. 14<^ To your country, your Queen, and God, We give our loved, our brave ; Long be the day ere those flags uncurl. On the battle field to wave. Longer yet ere dishonored they lie, To share in a traitor's grave ; Oh, long may you stand our shield and defence, The stalwart props of the maple fence, " Semper paratus." One prayer, when each Volunteer, With his martial duty done ; Is nearing his lonely and silent grave, Though dark foes come pressing on. Oh, by the Cross that above you waves, And through Him who hung thereon ; May you each be ranked with His chosen men, Joyfully, truthfully answering then, " Semper paratus." 1 "PASSETH AWAY." *' The fashion of tbi« world pa«ieth away." Away ! tall trees bend down. And flowers die, Rocks from the mountain fall, Stars from the sky ; Footsteps are hushed that trod the mazy dance, Eyes that were bright with beauty*s sparkling glance, Are closed to-day ; For oh, *• the fashion of this world Passeth away." 146 THE ACACIA. Who wears the envied crown Of deathless power ? Hark! they are crashing down, Temple and tower ; A tarnish on the soldier's glittering sheath, A mould upon the snowy bridal wreath, Signs of decay ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." Yet we dress dust with gold, Oh, foolish gilders, — And build on heaving sand, Oh, reckless builders ; And meteors dance before us, and we try To catch the starbeam, then exhausted lie, And lose the day ; Owning, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." What's this world's friendship like ? A poisoned token, The flattery of vain lips ? A goblet broken ; What is there to repay the heart's fond dream ? Floweth there nowhere an untainted stream, Is all decay ? For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." THE ACACIA. Oh, source of every good, Father above, • We bless Thee for Thy gift, Undying love ; A tree, that heavy tempest cannot drench, A flame, that "many waters cannot'quench," 'Tis heaven's own ray ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." Music's sweet sounds are thme, Thou better land ; Here, love and music need, A gliding hand. The bee within the sweetest flower will pain, And the crushed fruit although so sweet will stain, Father, we pray ; For oh, " the fashions of this world Passeth away." Up to thy dwelling-place. Redeemer, take us ; Where thy soft tones of love, Frotn sleep shall wake us. Spotless to walk among Thy heavenly gardens, Sinless to dwell beside Thy angel wardens, Why this delay? For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." 147 148 THE AOAOIA. DEATH OP AN ENNISKILLEN OFFICER IN THE CRIMEA. It was sunset on the Euxine sea ; Upon its war-girt shore A son of Enniskillen bent His dying leader o'er. " Yes, it is true I'm dying; far away My comrades bear their banners, and to-night The foe must tremble at their dread array ; God grant them vict'ry in the fearful fight. Ah 1 I may lead no more my gallant band, And yet I die contented, if my life Purchase one inch of hostile Russian land — If I have been a victor in the strife— 'Tiswelli" A tear dropped down from eyes that gazed ; A sound of war went past ; There was music to the young moon raised, Cymbals and trumpet's blast. ** Sebastopol is in the distance ; hark I The heavy charges on its battlements resound ; And they must take it, though I may not mark The Northern Bear fall stricken to the ground ; For Gaul has linked her arms with Albion's brave, And my own isle has heard the war-cry spoken ; High o'er her stalwart sons proud banners wave ; And lo 1 a three-fold cord is never broken Easily." THE ACACIA. 149 There came a pause in the thriUing strain That the passing army played ; There came a sweet, refreshing breeze, Where the wounded man was laid. ** Blow on, sweet breeze, for thou hast words for me, Of things that I have done with flowers and trees — Of the low murmuring of the sunny sea — Of fields and woodland — aye, and more than these — Of home and ray fond mother's gentle eyes — Of distant Ireland, and my father's call — Of noble brothers and their farewell sighs, And one sweet sister, fairest of them all, There weeping. " Aye — and another vision rises at this hour, Blotting all others by its burning beam ; A fair girl's love liad won me by its power, And life shone then one golden, sunny dream ; A stranger came ; his brow more fair than mine — Without a heart, his love was but a name ; Ere long her fingers through his curls would twine — Her cheek flush at his coming — I became A soldier. ** Should you, my brother, stand this game of strife, Will you remember me when going home, And tell those loved ones, dearer than my life, That heaven will keep me till my darlings come ; And if, my faithful comrade, you should mark The one I spoke of, tell her how t sighed, ' ii 160 THE AGAOIA. And for her wept ; that long the clouds hung dark, But cleared away at sunset, and I died, T? rorgivmg » The shades of night drew on apace, Chieftains their armies led ; One brave man wept within his tent — His Officer lay dead. DEATH'S PRIZE. " Died at sea, on board the Aroga, Annie — — • aged 19." Morning upon the vessel's deck — Morning so fresh and free — The good ship Aroga had sailed Upon the tossing sea ; Ploughing her way, she bears her freight Through the Atlantic wave. Her freight of merchandise and gold, The lovely and the brave. And one trod on that noble deck, The loveliest of the throng, Her step was glee, her glance was love, Her voice was sweetest song. Pair Annie was the loved of all, The light of every scene, So wise, so good, so beautiful, And only just nineteen. e, THE ACACIA. And one was on a distant shore, The shore that vessel soup,-ht ; His eyes each sweUing billow marked, And every storm-cloud caught ; For the time passed that queenly ship Should have attained her rest, And many a heart beat painfully Within the anxious breast. But he who loved as few men love, Rested not night or day, But where the tall masts heave in sight, He daily took his way ; And all night long he paced the pLore, ** Annie ! my loved," he cried, And then he thought the moaning surf, " Annie! thy lost," replied. At length, ah I joy, the minute-gun Sounded at break of day, And sorn the good ship Aroga Was anchored in the bay. Warm hearts were clasped to hearts that long Had dreamt of woe and wreck, *' Annie ! my loved," the watcher cried, And bounded on the deck. So two days passed, and upon the third, The sound of a gathering band was heard. And the tread of the comers was lieavy and slow, And their words to the bridegroom few and low j While slowly moved each invited guest. Who answered the call to the marriage feast 161 V 10 169 THE ACACIA. And as the procession journeyed along, They uttered no greeting, they sang no song, And they fancied the winds in the branches lone Murmured one cadence, "Gone, aye gone," And every shadow of every tree, Wove the transparency " Died at sea." And the throng who watched till the bride went past, To see the loved come to her home at last, Started and gazed in a maze of fears. Men trembled who were not used to tears ; For the merry sound of the marriage bell. Had a dull deep tone like a funeral knell. They stood round the altar, that wedding crowd, Who spoke of one in her pall and shroud . For the bride was the loveliest creature there. The flowers were twined in the long dark hair ; Yet the nuptial veil in its graceful fold. Circled a brow that was pale and cold. And men shrank back from the bridal dress Of a bride, so pure, so passionless ; Ah ! it was a wedding ! may there be few Such bridals for lovers, tender and true ; They left their beloved the foe beside, For Death was the bridegroom, and Annie his bride. .' \ THE ACACIA. 168 THY FATHER'S FRIEND. "Thine own, and thy father'a friend, forsake not."--BiBLi, Forsake not hands that gave the draught Of water and of wine, Forsake not forms that knelt with him Before the hallowed shrine. The lips that breathed the words of hope, Or love, be ne'er forgot, — The man who was thy father's friend, Forsake him not. There may be hearts that cannot feel, A poet's fountains' gush, And souls that cannot auswer back To music's thrilling touch — The stars above reveal to them No dark or wary plot. And yet they were thy father's friends, Forsake them not. It may be, poverty may dress The form thy father knew ; He may not rank among the wise, His words be weak or Tew, — Shame on the one who turns away From poverty's sad lot ; Ashamed— if once thy father's friend, Forsake him not. And one with him thy father knelt Before the Orient light, Of veiled and sacred masonry, One in the mystic rite. It 164 THE ACACIA. Thy father's brother, give thy hand, Nor be the past forgot ; He's thine, he was thy father's friend, Forsake him not. It may be that the stains of crime Have shaded that high brow ; Let him who bears a spotless soul Hurl the first dagger now ; But be not thou the marksman true, Recall a brigliter spot, Gently, he was thy father's friend, Forsake him not. Should fever heat the coursing veins, Should roaring billows clasp, Should flaming timbers round him burn, Or arming foeman grasp, Or should he be a wand'rer left With blasting siroc hot, Love him, he was thy father's friend, Forsake him not. Engrave upon thine inmost soul What Gabriel carves in heaven, The words of hope, the breath of love, By sweet affection given ; For mercy's deeds on earth, in heaven, Will never be forgot ; The man who was thy father's friend. Forsake him not. THE ACACIA. 155 AN^ArOSTROPIIE OVER THE GRAVE OF BRANT. Snppcso.l to be spoken l,y Siu A. N. MacXab, P. G. Mft-itor of Die Fr.'ifornity of Freuinn'joni. On to the burial, brethren, Follow your Master's call, And to the mausoleum, Gather ye one and all : Gird on your emblems, brethren. Emblems ol truth and might, Might that will fail iis never, And truth that knows no night. On to the burial, brethren, A Mason resteth there, But not your loudest footsteps, The lifeless 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 soimd be heard. Pause 1 minute gun and sounding bell, Let our farewell be heard. Brother, our Indian Brother, we're bending 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 IM THE ACACIA. 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, A.nd the Pale Horse for his legions came who fell in fearful war? Some false hearts quailed and turned away to bear a coward's name, Too timid to abide the storm or share a warrior's fame ; But some were true — I fought with thee through many a hostile crowd, Lo! we've met again to-day, brother, but thou art in thy shroud. And, Brother, what wer't thou in peace, ah I let that sounding bell, That strikes through every brother's heart its thrilling answer tell ; 'Twas thou who rear'd'st 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 large in solemn mystery? THE ACACIA. 157 Let us who spanned the arch with tliee, wlio at one altar bent, Who saw the holy light from far to our dark pathway lent ; Let us repeat thy generous deeds, tell of tiiy 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 wliere waved the maple loaf ; And the waters of the bay, Oiief, where shot thine own canoe, Are torn with splashing iron wheels and boar 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 ? Oh 1 no, but some have met thee, Brant, though a few yet track life's sea, And one must say this requiem o'er thy noble son and thee. But farewell, Indian brother, we must bid thee one adieu, There 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 ahke Heaven's favored child ; 108 THE ACACIA. And weVe taught them that there is a spell which is not broke by death, A meek yet mighty influence that passes not as breath ; The stars may fail, the moon may die, the sun bo veiled above, But still remains as o'er thee now, brother, the chain of love. Back, back, the crowd retires, Hushed is the minute gun. And the dead remain in silence, The Father and the Son ; But Canada will chronicle. Among her deeds of riglit. The acts of justice done this day, Beneath the sun's pure light ; And when her loyal spirits faint, Some traitor's plea to grant, Then send her sons to kneel beside The burial place of Brant. ON A TABLET, In the Lodge-Room of the Odd-Fellows, in Hamilton, C. "W., on which is inscribed the names of the deceased members of the Order in that Lodge. Brethren, behold this ma;^ic thing, That speaks of those — the fled. And gives the throbbing human heart, A token of the dead. THE ACACIA. 159 Yes, comrades, pass on, and behold Upon that marble fair, A link witli other words than this — Our brothers' names are there. We bear no coffin, hearse, nor pall, To cause affections tear to fall. Yetdotli this symbol, all, too well. Call those who no more with us dwell. i I We have not given it to the earth. Or to the mouldering sod, Where every brother calmlv 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. We bring it where our eyes will fall. And every well-known voice recall ; We place it where their forms once stood, The brothers of our brotherhood. Is not our love-bound armv now, Like a green spreading tree, Those who the spoiler's wrath hath spared. Shall not forgotten be. The leaves have fallen — vet are fresh In meraorj^'s hallowed fold. The silver cords have long been loosed, But we the links yet hold. ' II- '/I 160 THE ACACIA. One's here to show the archer's dart, The feelings of each brother's heart ; To show upon hfe's restless sea, That some are now what we shall be. Behold, with art is here engraved, Each name we called them by. Who next among our band enrolled Upon that stone shall lie ? Before another year is come, How many shall have fled ? Oh, brothers I who of us shall go To slumber with the dead ? Tet if we pass — the rest will keep Our names within their bosoms deep ; 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 tlien. 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. THE ACACIA. 161 *Tis so with them ; — no longer they Can mingle with our throng ; No more shall those gone be with us, 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. FROZEN TO DEATH. ' It was a sad sight, frozen to death by the wayeide, lay the beautiful E- well known last winter among our fashionable circles as the belle of the season." —Express. Frozen to death, in the pitiless air, Pearls of ice twine in the raven hair, A mother is sleeping in death's embrace, To the moon's pure light gleams the dead boy's face The holy stars have a halo shed. On the brows of the lovely unburied dead ; "Who is it unclaimed, and unknown by all, Only last winter, the belle of the ball. 162 THE ACACIA. She is no mendicant, bearing for years, The lone lot of poverty, hunger and tears ; No wrinkles are carved in that raarble brow, Which death and dishonour are claiming now ; She was lovely and loving, gentle and vain, Pleased with the glitter of flattery's chain ; Known as the star of the radiant hall, Only last winter the belle of the ball. They are meeting to-night in the festive room, The lamps are all lighted, the flowers all bloom, There's a strain of rich song in the heated air ; Take up the sleeper and carry her there. Who would not shrink from the passionless guest, Who would not start from that visionless rest ; Yet is one there like her, the fairest of all, Surely this winter she's belle of the ball. One is among them whose cheek may wan, At the sight of that lonely forsaken one : His lips have breathed vows he would not ke; _^>, His hand mixed the poison that caused this sleep ; Let him gaze on his victim ; show every guest, His ring on her finger, his child on her breast ; Dishonour veils him with its dreary pall ; Not her who last winter was belle at the ball. Oh, of all the arms that were gently wound Round that slender waist, could not one be found. To drag her back from the fatal snare. That they knew too well was still lurking there ; THE ACACIA. 163 There were fathers and mothers, yet none would speak, The words th-at may burn on the maiden's cheek ; • Yet Hke beacon-fires may have stayed the fall, Of her who last winter was belle of the ball. Mothers have passed her and left her to die, With her helpless child, 'neath the winter sky ; And others have seen her, and turned their eyes. With the Pharisees' comfort, up to the skies. Mothers have shunned her with scornful glance, Who met her last year in the mazy dance ; Now that she sleeps neath that snowy pall, Somebody else can be belle of the ball. Frozen to death, let her sleep on there, Over the ice falls, the unbound hair ; What have pure drapery, jewels of gold, To do with a form that is cursed and cold ? What has rich music and sparkling wine To do with the victim at tyranny's shrine ? What doth the dance with this clod of ice ? Man with his brother, or virtue with vice. What have they? God knoweth, how here below. The wheat and tares will together grow ; And with Him who pitied a sinful land, We leave the crushed flower within His hand. It may yet be found, when this dream life's o'er. Transplanted in love to that better shore; With a solace given to her wounded breast, ** I have not condemned thee, take thy rest." I te4 THE ACACIA. THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. Written on receiving the Indian name of " Kajej-n-you " or '• Prairie Flower." My brethren of the forest wild, Why have yo loved the stranger's child ? Why do the hands that bend the bow, Now wreath the pale-faced orphan's brow, In your own dense and trackless woods, Beside some gushing torrent floods, Is there no dark herb nestling there, Whose name the one ye love may bear ? Take back the loveliest of your bower, And call me not the " Prairie Flower." A thousand lovely tints all blend, Where its pure offerings ascend ; The warmest sun, the sweetest dews, Hover to nurse its brilliant hues. The young winds leave their hiding cave, This delicate flower's stems to wave ; Yet smiles it in the dreariest hour, Then call me not the " Prairie Flower." The stranger, worn with cliangeless scene Starts to behold, its leaf of green ; And stoops to clasp it to his breast. The fairest blossom of the West. Hope's bright rays to his heart are given, He gains a bolder trust in Heaven ; His soul hath won a priceless dower, Then call me not the ** Prairie Flower." THE AOAOIA. 166 The Indian driven from his way, Far in the Western wild to stray ; Beholds the pale face rear his home, Where only should the red man roam. Nought is the same neath those strange skies, Save his own flower's smiling eyes ; That beam unchanged by sun or shower, Then call me not the *' Prairie Flower." Sons of the ancient Mohawk, wait, Till we have passed Death's dreary gate, Until the tessalated floor, By weary pilgrims is passed o*er ; Until we bow before that shrine. Where bends thy father, Chief, and mine ; There call'd to life by Christ's own power, Glorious shall rise your " Prairie Flower." When our Solomon shall stand, Glorious among his chosen band ; And speak of all the forest trees, That bloomed 'mid Earth's ungenial breeze. There may my Indian brothers wait, Lebanon's cedars tall and straight ; And neath your shade in some sweet bower, May you behold your " Prairie Flower." 166 Tllr: ACACIA. MARCHING SONG OF THE XIIItu BATTALION. March boldly on, march side by side, stand or fall, With patriot zeal, no room for coward fears ; Together march, we're loyal-hearted all, Hurrah I hurrah 1 Canadian Volunteers. "With steady aim and loyal heart, each is there To guard our homes, and shield the lov'd of y