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 RuFUs Hathaway Collection 
 
 of CANADIAN LITERATURE 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW BRUNSWICK LIBRARY 
 
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 " Perplexed in faith, but pure in deeds, 
 At last he beat his music out. 
 There lives more faith in honest doubt 
 Believe me, than in half the creeds." 
 
 / 
 
vvEx 
 
 lil.I.lS. Roiil-KISON i^- Co. 
 
 " lii.om:" iM-;i-:ss. 
 
6od ci\]d f5c X)oubfcr. 
 
 ^ •^^T'PON His high arched crystal throne the Father sat : 
 / I On either side before a book of many leaves 
 V j A white robed figure stood. One bore a look of grief. 
 \ Yet tinged with hope. Th' other, no depth of bitter pain 
 Had known, and beams of light shone from him far around. 
 The sad-faced one, with drooping head and folded wings, 
 Caught the soft sliding of the restless, thronging feet 
 Of all the souls that hurried up the crowded aisles ; 
 The sorrow of their fate dwelt in his steadfast eyes ; 
 Dark shadows lingered on his grave, majestic face. 
 O'er which gleamed rays of Hope that made him beautiful. 
 The other, glad, as if for praising he were born. 
 Lifted his shining face, and, far beyond the throng. 
 Saw that future life on broadening steps attains 
 An equal, common goal for all humanity. 
 His pen, of purest pearl with gleaming diamond point. 
 Lay firmly poised within his clasping, thoughtful hand. 
 To write the names of those who sought and doubted not. 
 The covers of his book were ivory, creamy white. 
 And sapphires lay encrusted on the edge thereof : 
 Within, the leaves all marvellously golden, showed, 
 In tiny lambent flames, the names that he had writ ; 
 
 (3) 
 
Indelible gainst Time they stood — eternal fires! 
 
 But he. the sad-faced one, held with a patient touch 
 
 A rod of sombre agate, pointed, gleaming red. 
 
 His larger book showed heavy ebon polished sides. 
 
 With lines of gold that burned along the thickened edge : 
 
 Within, the pages white as billowed mountain clouds. 
 
 Displayed long lists of black and red ; whilst some there were 
 
 In mingled gruesome tints, that showed where sullen hues 
 
 And shades of lives had left their stains upon the page. 
 
 His fingers leaned not lovingly upon the rod 
 
 Of sombre colors; oft, when gliding spirits came 
 
 And spoke their names, they seemed reluctantly to write, 
 
 As if quite loth to do their God appointed task. 
 
 Then on his face one saw a light flash quickly up ; 
 
 Like waves that play, caressing, on the curving beach. 
 
 So spread that light of love, as if the human whole 
 
 Were garnered by this angel's soul unto itself. 
 
 Oft was it thus, and spirits crowding near, wond'ring 
 
 And thankful for the upraised surer face of him 
 
 Who held the pearl, could scarcely see that other form, 
 
 Whose sterner task was often conquered by his love. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 As when through branching pine or silvered poplar leaves 
 The south wind breathing, fills the wooded. lofty aisles 
 With gentle rustling, so there came a murm'rous sound. 
 A soul, with steadfast eyes and upturned beaming face, 
 Amidst the parted waves of other souls, came slow. 
 
 (4) 
 
The mother of this soul for many earthly years 
 
 Had. jointly with the father, thoughtful care bestowed. 
 
 Such influence had this on the gentle trusting child 
 
 That she had grown to sweet perfection; now her soul, 
 
 With naught of stain, moved slowly to its shining home. 
 
 Her name was whispered; then it fell within the book 
 
 Of gold, and glowed with light from diamond-pointed pen. 
 
 Then came a sigh, as when the restless moving deep 
 
 Sends forth a note of strange and saddest melancholy. 
 
 He. of the agate-colored bar. with Hope half hid. 
 
 Looked down the crowded aisles and saw the moving form 
 
 Of one whom Earth called doubter. Slow, with downcast eyes. 
 
 This soul moved up and on till near the angel forms. 
 
 His name is said, — Both pens are lifted as to write ; 
 
 The pearl tint gleams and wavers o'er the golden page ; 
 
 The agate bar lies poised — th' expectant sign to see. 
 
 Then, through the vaulted, star-set roof and columned arch 
 
 There came a vibrant sound that thrilled the waiting throng 
 
 'Twas such a note that held Elijah's fearing heart. 
 '• And did you not believe in my great love, my son ? " 
 The angels closed their mighty books of Good and 111. 
 And with bowed heads at this, the Father's, holy voice, 
 Stood half amazed and glad. Hope, that had faintly dawned 
 To him who wrote within the ebon covered lids. 
 Now shone, a great full-orbod star of longing joy. 
 The mute, expectant souls that lay beyond the aisles 
 in ranks of thousands, gazed upon the newer light 
 
 (5) 
 
Of his uplifted face, and breathed a glad " Amen." 
 He saw the age of blind belief and creeds sink down, 
 And in the new horizon brightly gleamed the star 
 Of Faith in God and love for all humanity. 
 
 * 
 
 « 
 
 " My Father, my Father." spoke the questioned soul, 
 
 " I could not walk Thy court 'till 1 had learned the way. 
 
 I trusted Thee, and trusting, could not doubt Thy love. 
 
 I knew these ' altar stairs' led up. I tried to climb. 
 
 Some proffered aid, but I did doubt the book they gave. 
 
 It told of cruel wars and deeds by Thy command 
 
 That made me shudder — Well 1 knew Thou gav'st it not. 
 
 Beneath the ordered stars that rolled in ceaseless flight 
 
 1 wrestled with the well-taught prayers and creeds of youth. 
 
 Within the silent pulses of the darkened wood 
 
 I fought severest battle. Thou, my Father, know'st 
 
 How close the prayer I used to babble as a child 
 
 Enwrapped its trustful love around my youthful heart. 
 
 I could not take eternal hope and future life 
 
 From books. — No, I must feel it. everlasting, — true. 
 
 And thus beneath the measures of Thy power and skill — 
 
 Those pendant spheres that gleam around me in this space, 
 
 I sought for Thee. 
 
 Ofttimes my tired soul would weary of the search, 
 
 And groping, fall upon itself, exhausted, faint. — 
 
 Amid the dropping, pointed stars, I'd gaze and gaze, 
 
 As if my spirit, searching, wandered out to Thee. 
 
 (6) 
 
1 
 
 Perhaps it did — for moments came of joy too great 
 To last more than a minute's space of breathing awe, 
 And that was fullest rest, completed faith in Thee. 
 I tried to go the easier path the church had taught. 
 But could not iterate the cruel words they said 
 Were Thy just anger. 
 
 In all the wondrous woods, the sea and stars. I saw 
 The mystery of death and life. 1 knew not how 
 These many complex things were so ordained and made. 
 But knew they were in kindness sent, and not in hate. 
 And so I did put back the book reached out by those 
 Who called it • lamp' and ' light.' and sanctified by Thee ; 
 And said. ' I doubt the book you preach, but not His love." 
 Yet ever through the days, my childish lesson cried 
 Within my breast; I stumbled, but. upheld by Thee. 
 I groped yet blindly up the stairway, here, above, — 
 And now I know, my God, that Thou indeed art Love." 
 
 The angeis raised xheir heads (their joyful shining eyes 
 
 Mutely expectant caught the message mutely sent) 
 
 And moved like glinting sunrays down the breathless aisle ; 
 
 They clustered round the form of him who just had spoke : 
 
 Their spreading, sunny wings arched o'er the doubting soul 
 
 And thus the three passed slowly through the moving sea 
 
 Of spirits crowding all the spaces of the hall. 
 
 Into the light that compasses the Father's throne 
 
 The doubting God-taught soul had safely found his own. 
 
 (7) 
 
^^m 
 
 I 
 
 Bay Shore, St, John, N. B 
 
 ^i 
 
^t i^arfridac .I?lcind. 
 
 
 T night, when from a deep sea, slimy ledge. 
 The moving tide creeps slowly to the edge 
 Of some vast rock, whose mighty bulk hangs o'er 
 A sounding cave, the depths reveal a shore 
 Of furrowed sand, where colors gleam like eyes 
 Of freshly dew dipped stars from azure skies. 
 Shadows of trees slant on the moving deep. 
 And ever midst the lanes of light, they keep 
 Their darkened arms as if enwrapped in silent sleep. 
 
 In swaying locks of amber, green and gold. 
 The seaweeds lift, and from their rocky hold 
 Stream out into the bands of silver light. 
 Within the sounding cave, eternal n'ght 
 Holds court from sun to sun; no Protean horn 
 Along its walls e'er winds a note forlorn. 
 Far off the ever lifting, ceaseless seas 
 Fill the great void with gentle harmonies. 
 Prompting the soul to sweet yet sad soliloquies. 
 
 (9) 
 

 i 
 
 T:ow 'ride ai £av ^^ore. 
 
 7^/t)I ' °^^ beyond the rocky, bouldered shore 
 
 III The tide creeps slowly to its ocean bed, 
 ^'^■^ And rests a space before it turns again 
 
 To test its strength on rock and shifting sand, 
 Tis then I love to wander on the beach 
 And steal the secret of the sea shell's home : 
 Watch the pink seaferns in their safe retreat 
 And wonder at their color and their form. 
 The jutting ledgs fronts on a shore of sand ; 
 The sea lies faint a hundred yards away 
 And utters now no signal of its strength: 
 The great, round rocks with seaweed covered tops 
 And roughened sides of barnacle's gray mail. 
 Sphinx like, recall, half buried in the drift, 
 The riddle of their past and future lot. 
 The sand all ridged and hard with patting waves. 
 Presents a course for Atalanta's feet. 
 I slip along the edge, where darkened caves 
 Three hours ago were booming with the seas 
 That rolled tumultuous up against their sides. 
 Close to the amber, seaweed-crested top 
 Of one huge ledge, an emerald basin lies; 
 Fringed with the purple, waving, moss-like ferns 
 It ever keeps its seagreen purity. 
 Its sanded depths reveal the seafern forms 
 
 f\ 
 
 f' 
 
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 (10) 
 
f 
 
 
 Whose arms trail darkly green from rocky sides. 
 
 The mussel shells lie thick along the edge : 
 
 Held to the light their color seems dull gray, 
 
 But dr oped within the clearness of the pool 
 
 They undulate in falling, and reflect 
 
 The pink and purple of the finest pearl. 
 
 Like jewels on the sanded depths they lie 
 
 And shoot forth rainbow tints between the lanes 
 
 Of pendant ferns, and purple trailing dulse. 
 
 The crested ledge with grim and shaggy front, 
 
 And roughened majesty of sea-worn pride. 
 
 Holds in its arms this harmony of hue. 
 
 So lies in many rough and rigid hearts 
 
 A tender grace that needs the casting pearl 
 
 And straightway that which seemed so dull and gray 
 
 Beams with the colors of awakening day. 
 
 Tuqbf and Love. 
 
 i I 
 
 i 
 
 Every boat has its errand, 
 And carries light on its sail ; 
 
 Every life has its message 
 Of joy or burdening wail. 
 
 The light on the boat-sail dies 
 With the sinking of the sun ; 
 
 But human love-light lingers 
 Long after the years are done. 
 
 (11) 
 
I( 
 
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 Sunset on the Nerepis.' 
 
^ 
 
 ■Sui]9cl oi\^.l7,crcpi^ ,1>ivcr. 
 
 HE sun sinks down in his glory 
 
 And purples the clustering hilis. 
 
 The shadow from Douglas Mountain 
 
 The calm of the Nerepis fills. 
 
 Over the crest of the Eagle, 
 
 Deep gathering mists are afloat, 
 
 Their cold, white arms, outspreading. 
 Hush the redbreast's liquid note. 
 
 The silver thread of the river 
 Still winds its way to the fall, 
 
 Leaving the emerald meadows 
 For the rock whither eagles call. 
 
 Th' anemones pink white petals 
 Curve upward with close of day, — 
 
 Violets, yellow and blue and white. 
 In slumbering clusters lay. 
 
 Night that had hid in the fir tree 
 Moves silently over the field ; 
 
 Its sable wings rest on the flowers, 
 Which drowsily fold and yield 
 
 To the pointed shadows creeping 
 Over river and hill and bank. — 
 
 They fold their petals in silence 
 And wait in their modest rank. 
 
 (13) 
 

 
 Wait till the dews of the night air, 
 With breath from the distant bay, 
 
 Enwrap them with pearly dew drops. 
 And night yields its throne to the day. 
 
 The gate of the sunset is still 
 
 Enveloped with crimson and gold, — 
 
 Purple and black and deep purple 
 Lay the cloud banks fold upon fold. 
 
 Along clear lanes of shell tint 
 
 Near a shore of a vaster sea. 
 Float isles joining earth and heaven 
 
 In a wonderful harmony. 
 
 And just where the horizon ends 
 
 In a rim of fiery red, 
 A final radiance shooting. 
 
 Repeats that the day is dead. 
 
 The day is dead, but the gladness 
 
 Of the spirit within me cries. 
 This is a day of rejoicing, 
 
 And its perfumes ever shall rise 
 
 To sweeten the path of sorrow 
 
 That all of us have to tread. 
 And to ease that bitter anguish 
 
 When they tell me my friend " is dead." 
 
 My friend has journeyed beyond me. 
 
 Leaving her trust as a guide. 
 And ever that strong trust clasping 
 
 I walk to the fast flowing tide. 
 
 And oft when the western horizon 
 Is rimmed with its flame of red, 
 
 I think of that Nerepis Valley, 
 And that day which never is dead. 
 
 (14) 
 
 I 
 
 '» 
 
i 
 
 tCjcslficlcT tdoods: 
 
 In dewy banks the May buds lie ; 
 
 The ragged vine trails up the hill. 
 The spruce and fir dark arms entwine 
 
 O'er clefts where shadows linger chill. 
 
 The yellow seal 'twixt lily leaves 
 
 Shoots up its long and thick green stalk. 
 
 Wind flowers whiten mossy dells 
 Whilst you and I in reverence walk. 
 
 Faint rustling of dead leaves repeat 
 Whispers of the last year's glory ; 
 
 Not yet the petals of the rose, — 
 No asters tell the harvest story. 
 
 The hare-bell keeps its tender grace 
 
 Of swaying blue till later on ; 
 Twin flowers hold their fairy bells 
 
 Of sea-shell pink till June has gone. 
 
 Alders hang out their russet green, — 
 
 White poplars sway their red-capped flowers 
 
 Before their rounded leaves are seen. 
 
 May clouds have brought refreshing showers 
 
 Which start the buds on maple trees, 
 Whilst gnarled and twisted ashen arms 
 
 Unfurl their solemn purple balls, 
 Dark index of the later charms. 
 
 (15) 
 
!S 
 
 Jiool^ina, tBacIuvarcT^ 
 
 Memory, like moss. 
 Wraps itself round the roughened trunks of Time. 
 
 Whose branches cross 
 And interweave the merry wedding chime 
 
 Of early days. 
 With sadder tolling of our riper age. 
 
 Stray, slanting rays 
 Of Hope creep slowly on life's darkened page. 
 
 Within these shades 
 We walk through columned arches to the goal. 
 
 Where darkness fades 
 Before the flood that lifts the trusting sou!. 
 
 Memory's soft hands 
 Cast a fine halo o'er the knotted path. 
 
 Her trailing strands 
 Enshrine the Father's love, and not His wrath. 
 
 The spectral shrouds 
 That held us long in doubt, now turn and change 
 
 To sunset clouds. 
 Where rests our Faith in sight of broader range. 
 
 Memory's key 
 Of finer gold unlocks the battered gate 
 
 Of mystery. 
 We turn, and o'er the narrow path of fate 
 
 We gaze, and see 
 
 'Twas God's decree. 
 
 ^ 
 
 % 
 
 (16) 
 
f 
 
 ti 
 
 (&hc \ ciia,cdi]cc of La -I'our. 
 
 IN the Spring of 1645. Sieur D'Aulnay Charnisay sailed trom 
 Port Royal. N. S., now known as Annapolis, and appeared before 
 Fort St. John, at the mouth of the St. John River. 
 
 At the tinne of Charnisay 's arrival. Charles de La Tour was in 
 Boston ; his wife. Marie de La Tour, was left in charge of Fort St. John, 
 with fifty men for a garrison. The Fort was steadily besieged for three 
 days. 
 
 On Easter Sunday, when the heroic defenders were not thinking of 
 an attack, Charnisay's troops, through the connivance of a Swiss soldier 
 (one 01 the garrison), scaled the walls and were on the eve of victory 
 when the spirited defence of the garrison, stimulated by Lady La Tour, 
 caused them to retreat again for the fourth time. 
 
 Reduced in numbers, and with part of their walls broken down, the 
 
 garrison and its brave commander decided to capitulate on the terms 
 
 offered by Charnisay. which were that the whole garrison would be 
 allowed to depart unmolested. 
 
 It is said that as soon as Charnisay got possession of Fort St. John, 
 and saw the meagreness of the defences and the small num.ber of its 
 defenders, he at once imprisoned the garrison, and either shot or hung 
 them all. 
 
 The intrepid and dauntless Lady de La Tour, at sight of this 
 treachery and cruelty, must have turned upon Charnisay and told him 
 of his baseness, calling down upon him the vengeance of her husband. 
 
 " Oh Christ, that I were spared this awful sight! 
 What fiend is he, who, blacker than black night. 
 Commits such crime? 0, treacherous Charnisay! 
 Now breaks my heart, in horror at this day ! 
 When final fate shall on thee trembling call, 
 And thou dost enter the great judgment hall 
 To know thy lot — 
 
 (17) 
 
/ / 
 
 Then, on thy fall, the whole Satanic brood 
 That watch for thee, will seize the hellish food 
 Of thy black soul. and. midst the raging flame, 
 Purge it of blood but get no drop of shame. 
 
 Live on, thou ever-shitting vengeful eyes. 
 
 Thy knightly life, 'tis but a book of lies. 
 
 Oh, may the avenging power of fate 
 
 So stamp my words upon thy withered soul. 
 
 No jot or tittle ever shall abate. 
 
 Live thou, and reach thy Royal fort : the goal 
 
 Attained this day. now flees thy varying sight ; 
 
 For soon a sterner foe. with certain tread. 
 
 Will in thy parched soul stir up such fright 
 
 That thou wilt shriek for pity, and in dread 
 
 Wilt call upon the Christ. E'en as the blood 
 
 Of this dead garrison will drown your soul. 
 
 That Christ Himself turn not to stay the flood. 
 
 So will the rush of Fundy's tide enroll 
 
 And wrap thee round. 
 
 Useless thy sword, thy strength of no avail. ' 
 
 Thy craft in vain ; no lies will save thee now 
 
 The rocks alone will hear thy weakening wail, 
 Ghosts of the murdered ones thy spirits cow, 
 In vain thy hands clutch at the slippery kelp. 
 The far-off breakers dash with sullen roar. 
 No soul to pity, not a hand to help. 
 Thy lifeless form lies spurned upon the shore. 
 
 ' . 
 
 I 
 
 (18) 
 
 I 
 
1] 
 i - 
 
 Thou living dead man. know thy fate is sure. 
 
 And Fundy's wave wreai<s vengeance for La Tour. 
 
 Soil not my name. 
 
 I feel my life-blood burst its narrow space. 
 
 And know that I must die.— it grows apace 
 
 This feeling here. 
 
 This, from your hated bondage makes me free.— 
 
 My fortress gone- -this death means Liberty." 
 
 Lady La Tour died within a few days after the surrender of her Fort 
 and some time afterwards, about 1647. Charnisay was drowned at a 
 point between Digby and Annapolis. 
 
 I 
 
 Oho plowcrs I Tiovc 
 
 {From the French of L. Collet.) 
 
 Oh. dewy flowers ! 
 Bedimmed by showers 
 
 Of early IVIay ! 
 Your petals bear 
 The perfumed air 
 
 Of spring's glad day. 
 
 Your garlands yield 
 To hill and field 
 
 A brilliant glow; 
 On meadow bank 
 In modest rank 
 
 Marguerites blow. 
 
 (19) 
 
 ^jiM* -^n^^- 
 
1 
 
 The fringed bluef 
 With frail aigrette 
 
 Tells harvest story; 
 O'er rock and dells 
 Climb rose pink bells 
 Of morning glory. 
 
 The "bees' delight." 
 With jasmine white. 
 
 Trails glossy green ; 
 O'er path inclining. 
 Its pink buds shining. 
 
 Sways eglantine. 
 
 Periwinkle's star 
 Droops from afar. 
 
 O'er cypress dreaming; 
 Clear brooks that glide. 
 See close beside 
 Narcissi gleaming. 
 
 Oh, dewy flowers! 
 Bedimmed by showers 
 
 Of early May! 
 Your petals bear 
 The perfumed air 
 
 Of spring's glad day. 
 
 I. ■ 
 
 i".' 
 
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