^. ^. *'-^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^ A f/. /a 1.0 1.1 — 6" 1.8 11.25 1111.4 IIIIII.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation ■y 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 xi;ss-:-0StS6^.-'* ' --'iSfiS2«^s:s-«fr assgags^aii?!*'"?^*' ""# .i'^''P''^' ^^'''"' '' "'^ ' '-^'' ' ^ CUBA, AN INCIDENT OF THE INSURRECTION, AND OTHER VERSE, . 'i TO WHICH IS Arl'l!.Nl>Kl) AN KSSAY ON MUSIC, BY :)l MORRIS GARTH. V >:. .^^^ ^^A Here pause my gothic lyre a little time; The leisure hour is all thai thou canst claim. —Btatttt. O: BELFORD CLARKE CO. 1891. '•■x% k\-\.^ \ '^ \ '^ \ -'Wi'iiinl'ilitliiiiiTiM'Hiiiitr Copyrighted, 1890, by Bei.ford Clarke Co. MM inn'i ii w . 1 1 III * i nn * ■ :„if',A'!i:A :i i' . t V . ■ . , Y .. , i '*r"PT; i ffl-Tr-i^r3( i , .. CONTENTS. CUIiA: An Inciuent of the Insurrection . . 7 MAV: A Pastor Ai, ..... 45 TlIK Ol.O SKXTON'S CHRISTMAS DREAM . 52 CIIATTERTON: A MoNOUV ... 60 SEA PICTURES 65 QUAND M^ME 71 SONNETS. A Night in June . . . -79 Inri ...... 80 Music . . . . . . .81 Tomorrow ..... 82 Solitude . . . . . .83 Meditation ..... 84 Venice . . . . . . .85 STANZAS. Love and Dignity .... 89 The Gladiator . . . . .93 His Reply (to "Her Letter") . . 95 The Early Worm, of Unhappy Memory . . 100 Night ...... 103 Unknown Soldier : Arlington, Va. . . 106 On the Sands . , . . . 108 To a Canary . . . . . .110 1 4 IV. CONTENTS. I I I r f STANZAS.-CoNTiNUEi). MONA ...••■ A Tholc.ht ..•••• Music anV Mk.morv , . . • Thk Dakota: aFraument. Undkri.ey ..■•■• Barcaroi.i.e . . • • • Song: A Sky of I'irest Saithiri'. A Rkmkmbramce . . . • 1 LOVE TO l.OOK INTO IHINE EYKS Lines in an Ai.iuim : I., II., HI-. IV., 13 T„ » • • • . Love in Absence : Spanish Proverb, Song: There's Someonb with the bru.htes Eves ..•••• ESSAY. Music and Its Processes 113 114 116 118 "3 . "25 130 1 132 >33 . «34 r 135 139 ..t ^^t J»:-T if fiWTifflfea&irv^.-tiii*^. ■ i». 'f.^. 112 . 114 ii6 . 118 «23 . '25 127 • 129 130 I3« '32 133 . 134 BRIf.HTEsr '35 IV/ia/ is writ is writ: would it were worthier. — Byron. 139 • - iiT.jri -fiimmmmii CUBA, tS n ft! f CUBA. I. The Indies' seas— resplendent, sapphire-bright: The coral lands where Nature ever smiles, Where summer reigns, throned on a thousand isles, Crowned as befits the queen of life and light. The tropic sun— a fire which knows no wane, Uplifting life in opulence sublime, In endless wealth; the eminent domain Of life spontaneous from creation's prime! Clad in rich tints or robed in fiery hues Its myriad forms in plant, in fruit, and flower; Munificence supreme; supremest power Revealed in never-wearying love profuse. The sum unspeakable, and soul and sense Gaze wonder-bound before Omnipotence! As neighboring trees all blossom-laden rest 'Mid the rose-haze of summer's sultry day, So lie those isles upon the sun-flushed breast Of southern seas where spicy breezes play. i.e«6«kLl*,S»r,3i«.3«MSiJ«»-a»««»*i~»«'» 8 CUBA. ^ Balmful those winds with fragrant sweets imbued, Culled from unnumbered fruits and floral blooms, Profusely rich, which scatter their perfumes Upon th^ air— o'erfiUed to lassitude. Unceasingly amid the island shades Pours the glad music of the pluniaged throng, Most joyous heard 'mid the secluded glades Of the wild-wood, where they betimes prolong Into the silence of the night their song. Entrancing scenes of artless luxury! Where bounteous nature has profusely shed Her rarest gifts, nor deem on earth can be Scenes where her beauties are more richly spread. Vet, 'mid those scenes, in sullen grandeur rise Mountainous steeps, wild-cragged, their forms sear- browned, Which boldly reach majestic toward the skies, Their towering crests with dark-plumed pines en- crowned! Upon their heights the island mountaineer,— In view the waters of th' encircling sea,— Makes his abode; his joy their crags to dare; Nor deems he else an equal luxury, Though 'neath his feet unfading shades abound, And fruits delicious freight the hidden ground. „TS~ ;_-^— weets imbued, floral blooms, »erfumes ed throng, d glades jes prolong ong. ;ely shed , can be ; richly spread. mdeur rise their forms sear- •d the skies, )lumed pines en- ntaineer, — g sea,— igs to dare; f, lades abound, Iden ground. CUBA. Such beauty theirs — those isles of Indies' sea; Such riches theirs as tempt cupidity! II. The mom across Antilles seas Broke softly with a cradling breeze, Which o'er the slumbering waters crept Till lost in island groves it slept. Or wandered merrily along Amid its shades, which, at its song Waking, their 'leafy banners' hung Out as it passed, while sweetly sung The plumaged choir in bright array. Their anthem to returning day. To these and opening woodland flowers, To lakelets bright, in verdant bowers Embosomed, the glad zephyrs spoke Their greetings, and all nature woke To joy; the sylvan wavelets kissing From sleep; with smiles them dimpling o'er. Or from their cradled rest enticing, To leave them sighing on the shore! III. The sun, now risen, through the verdured trees, Tuned by the breeze to rustic symphonies. Shed o'er a woodland lake, — whose waters lie .H5-..lii«;- --^r-'i*^ lO CUBA. Among the hills that overlook the sea, Carribean named, where round the southern coast Of Cuba's isle it circles, eastward lost,— Its softest rays, yet brightest till its breast Sparkled with brilliants, like some beauty dressed In jeweled splendor, as it rose and fell In warm pulsation, softly audible. Upon its wooded slopes, here long alone. Save for his child,— scarce to his household known, In solitude had dwelt and slept— now dead— The Count Zambrana. Many years had fled Since first he sought the shades which now waved o'er His marble crypt upon the farther shore Whence he had come none knew, none e'er had known ; Why thus he lived, avoiding e'en his ov/n. And none remembered since the earliest day He sought those hills one from them spent away, Though at each eve this man of mystery Had loved to wander by the neighboring sea; And only there was he e'er known to show Aught of emotion; then from some deep woe It seemed to rise, which in his heart lay sealed. Some wearing secret, jealously concealed. Stern was his glance, withal yet kind his eye Where pride enthroned maintained a mastery O'er those emotions which his heart down-weighed, Nor rose unguarded, save when sleep betrayed. In life, his thought ne'er wearying did employ lern coast St y dressed lold known, :ad— Ifled w waved o'er r had known; ■n, ;t day ent away, y ig sea; LOW p woe r sealed, ed. s eye lastery )wn -weighed, letrayed. employ CUBA. II Itself in studying but his daughter's joy; And wealth possessed, left her naught to desire, Save to reclaim from that dark shade her sire, — Was it remorse or sorrow which thus moved The heart her own so truly, fondly loved. But Death — that presence which man's heart subdues. Refusing oft that which alone it sues In life's last hour: a moment's strength to bear Up from its tomb the sins Pride buries there — Had sought Zambrana, and its swift decree Forever sealed his life's strange mystery. Now years had fled; to womanhood had grown The child, yet had she not been left alone. For a not less than mother's love was hers In one her guardian from her earliest years. . IV. Upon the woodland lake, smooth gliding o'er Its waves, a gondola approached the shore, Beneath the oar of swarthy Islander Borne gently onward. Long his raven hair Fell from beneath a ribboned sombrero About his neck uncovered, and below. Across his half-bared breast of olive hue. Floated before the breeze. His eyes— but who Would paint a Criollo and shade his eyes Less dark than are his southern starlit skies! A lovely figure in the boat reclined: 12 CUBA. ii'i Zambrana's daughter; her fair form, confined In whitest folds of softest texture, lay The paragon of grace and symmetry. Beneath a sHk o'ershading, on a spread Of Persian tapestry. Rested her head On her warm hand, round which her wealth of hair. In dark profusion fell; and naively there A crimson blossom clung, and seemed to seek To shade the damask softness of her cheek. Her eyes were dark — 'twould be a mockery To try to paint them by a simile. As they beneath their silken fringe, half closed, In lustrous languor, dreamingly reposed. A terraced stair, with marble balustrade. Rose from the lake, and thence an avenue, 'Neath palms o'er-arching, stretched up the hill-side To where, crowning its summit, the chateau In simple beauty stood. Around the shade Of tamarind, ceiba and the mango swayed In wandering winds, laden with sweets distilled From neighboring fruity groves, while clustering there Bloomed floral hues unnumbered, and the air. Amid the foliage musical, was filled With songs of birds. Entrancing scenes stretched round on every hand, Far as the sight the vista could command nfined lalth of hair, ■e to seek heek. kery f closed, i. e, me, the hill-side iteau [lade yed distilled istering there the air. every hand, nd CUBA. n In azure framed — the vast circumference With beauty stored; a glow of life intense: Here orange groves displayed their wondrous yield In golden clusters o'er the verd' -ed field; There softly white the coflfee beauty spread Her flake-like blossoms fringed with gentlest shade Of stately palms, which 'mid the slumbrous air Reposeful stood— majestic everywhere. Beyond, empurpled, 'gainst the luminous sky A mountain range in sombre majesty Stretching far eastward with the neighboring sea— The sister tenants of immensity. Near the chateau, 'neath an embowering shade,— A net of verdure with bright blossoms spread,— Where over-arching vines, with blooms o'er-run, Tempered the brightness of a tropic sun, Reclined the figure of a youth, though grown To manhood's stature. Through the screen o'er- thrown. Of foliage intertwined, the sunlight crept, Lighting his brow, as motionless he slept, O'er which his hair, in indolent unrest. Moved in dark clusters, by the breeze caressed. A flush was warmly glowing on his cheek As soft as are the mellow tints that streak The summer sky, when, as night's curtains close. On twilight's breast, day sinks into repose. ! ^ I I 14 CUBA. Yet there was stamped upon his placid face Unyielding pride, still tempered with a grace - Of true nobility, that influence Which moulds the face in gentler lineaments. Plain were his features, yet enthroned there, With stateliness, appeared that nameless air Of conscious force, — the reflex of a mind Which still attracts and which commands mankiml The superscription of that power that sways The world, the w/W,— sovereign of sovereignties! With its great premier, governing reason, throned. Controlling worlds, yet by no power bound. Its consort thought; the eye its minister; The universe its realm; the arbiter In man of men, who, envious, then behold Themselves resistless by its power controlled. As in submission", 'neath its master spell, They render homage, though their wills rebel! From midnight till the star of morn Paled 'neath the saffron veil of dawn, Young Pasco, o'er the star-lit wave, By many a cape and island cave. Full many a league along the shore Guided his boat with steady oar, From where, within a cliff-bound bay, l"ll«W!«"*l.t.«J«W- CUBA. IS ace grace lents. lere, 3 air id is mankiml; (vays ereignties! 1, throned, und. r; old rolled, 1, I rebel! n vn, bay, A band of Cuban patriots lay Close 'neath a friendly mountain wall Which stretched around, impassable- There in the fastness of the mountain height, Dreading naught else save the betraying night, His patriot comrades waited for the day When once again their hands should rend away Another thong that bound their bleeding land. Wrenched from her heart-strings by a tyrant's hand. Thou stricken isle! how long shall Slaughter flood Thy vales of beauty with the patriots' blood; How long still, struggling, must thou bleed, nor find One hand of mercy thy red wounds to bind ? Weakest yet braver than the strongest all. Must freedom's fairest child unheeded call, And to the accents of her anguished cry, Gain but the echo of their agony? Thou guardian Genius of the patriot brave! Hear thou thy sons — still thine the power to save — Who to thee turn, scourged in their native land For freedom's cause by an aggressor's hand. Hear thou thy sons who nobly there defy Thy bitterest foe, freedom's arch-enemy; That chief of despots, whose long history reads A record dark of persecution's deeds, i6 CUIIA. Who now oppressing that unhappy clime Would there proscribe e'en liberty a crime- That gift divine, hereditary right, From mankind stolen in oppression's night! Withhold no longer thine avenging sword; Nay, they are free, if thou but speak'st the word, . That word unsaid, lo, each returning day Beholds them pierced afresh by tyranny! Stay in their course the reeking blade And kindling brand, by fell destruction swayed, Which o'er that land, where all's so wondrous fair Spread blackened desolation and despair. A Nemesis arise, clothed in thy might. With justice armed, thy countenance alight With righteous vengeance, so shall tyranny Before thy face in terror shrink away, As to its lair the preying beast of night. When o'er the mountain beams the morning light! ? • i I 'il' I See, 'mid the verdure of his native glade. Attacked by panther, from its ambush strayed, The noble stag, just struggling to his feet. Defiantly fronts his pursuer's hate. Now on his foe impetuously he flies, A desperate courage flashing from his eyes; The beast recoils, then with a fierce rebound Springs at its victim; half borne to the ground CUBA. 17 ime — light! the word, >y! I swayed, )ndroiis fair lir. light mny t, (rning light! jlade, sh strayed, 3 feet. lis eyes; rebound the ground His antlers stout receive his savage foe: With cry lialf pain, half hate, back crouching low. Yet once again behold him full at bay. Dauntless — Till now his panting breaths betray His sinking frame, whicli scarce may long sustain. The brave, proud spirit which it bears within. See on the jaws of his fierce assailant The scarlet life, in savage cunning rent From his torn limbs, that know no soothing balm Save the soft currents of his life-blood warm; Yet not alone his flows; mark the red dye His antlers bear, drawn from his enemy ! Lo, Cuba thus confronts Hispania still, With courage not her fiercest shocks can kill, Though stricken bleeding — Thou America! Strong as thou art and pledged to liberty. Thus at thy gates shall stranger masters slave Thy sister— loveliest cliild that Nature gave! Thy freedom viewed, sl.e in thy steps would tread, Yet stones thou giv'st her where she asks but bread. Nay, while her cries now smite thy sluggard ear, Cries thou know'st well, for once thine own they were, I 18 CUBA. While in her flesh, all quivering, deeper gnaw Beneath thine eyes, the chains her enslavers draw Wilt thou, O mother'.-canst thou dose thy heart? Must thus (he prestige of thy name depart? Young I'asco, boldest of the brave. Feared not the wildness of the wave; To him the night wind o'er the sea Was but a voice of melody; Its tossing waves— his heart more free— Were but a thing of ecstasy In which his boundless thoughts but found Companions; their impatient sound Reflecting in their wild unrest; Love's fevered pulses in his breast; And so he welcomed with delight These restless spirits of the night. Naught did he fear, for to the heart That knows the strength love's throbs impart- A strength in dangers stronger proving That stand betwixt the loved and loving- There is no peril which can fright On surging wave or mountain height, While depths of fondest happiness Await the heart in love's embrace! Now, as the dying shades of night CUBA. «9 er gnaw slavers draw, M>tS-'- . , je-^^ft'^WAfl**^^^-'^*^'*' ■.,,.^^^i*^^^^-^-^«s»mi^i^i^^^^^i^^-^ CUBA. 21 orce 5 source, nding steel, ;veal, lere dies the light, of night, hies t it is! ;r lies, ponsive moves e soul it loves: ot tell, tic spell, e sight, ious flight. consciousness: imering faint and ir own would bless, ; may know: of souls; mists of sense, controls, its influence. Now, as she wandered 'neath the verdant shades Which round her island home luxuriant pressed, As from the lake she sought their quiet glades, Dreaming of one whose image filled her breast, Did Lolo feel this influence which invades The realm of thought, with pulses to invest Those chords magnetic which two hearts unite:— A bond too hallowed for the sensual sight. And thus impelled, unconsciously she sought The floral shade where Pasco sleeping lay, Wondering the while if life could offer aught And Pasco gone; and then in ecstasy Transfixed she stood, as quick that saddening thought, Darkening her eyes, faded in tears of joy:— And oh how bright beamed her all-lustrous eyes •Neath that one cloud, flashing love's sympathies. " My Pasco! "—and her voice sank sweetly lower From the first pulse of love's temerity. Like the lone nightingale's, in twilight's hour. As, when disturbed, its warblings die away; And flushed her cheek as, like an arching flower, O'er him she leaned in love's expectancy. Pressing her heart which throbbed all envious, That sleep should claim a moment of its bliss. rtf««/wy>**'*&^'SS>W**'j 22 CUBA. h '1 ii- O Love, thou sweet enigma of the soul! Fearless yet fearful; all-seeing yet how blind; Omniscient yet thou spurn'st the mild control Of thy co-dweller Reason. Thus combined, Opposing forces blend a marvellous whole In thy mysterious framework, that designed By goodness infinite that from its height The soul might glimpse th' elysian fields of light. E'en as to thought, to sight dost thou impart By thy mysterious force higher virtue Supernal, giving all things to the heart. By vision there revealed, an aspect new; Clothed in new beauty all; beauty no art Hath cunning to resolve, while that we knew Before as happiness, to thee doth seem But like the baseless fancies of a dream! Employs which once no joy could e'er impart. Or longings waked they could not satisfy, 'Neath thy sweet force awake within the heart Throbbings of all-sufficing ecstasy Heaven's richest dower to man; of life the part Most sacred; flame of immortality. Which here below sheds its celestial light, Without which life were lifeless, day were night. No longer able to resist, I.olo, Beside him seated 'mid the flowers, now ' S?priRa5«--J^>M^*«'*''F*'"' .VW**«S*W«*--!»«W«'*«*^®*^^^ ■ CUBA. 23 iw blind; :ontrol mbined, lole esigned lit Is of light. mpart le new; art we knew n m! ir impart, satisfy, the heart ife the part light, were night. J, now A gently lingering kiss upon his brow In maiden fervor pressed; then back she drew. As fearing love too bold, while a warm glow Suffused her cheek; then o'er his face anew Her own she leaned, as Pasco, waking, seemed As if he doubted if he lived or dreamed. " Is it a dream? No, no! No dream could trace Such wondrous beauties as my Lolo grace; No vision paint an image half so fair As thou, my idol, — and thou sought me here? Thou Beauty's self !" Then, in one long embrace Upon his breast pillowed her lovely face. In speechless joy her idoled form he pressed Close to the heart that trembled in his breast. " Not here, my Pasco — everywhere this heart In spirit-flight hath followed where thou wert. At morn and eve, and through night's visions still The paths exploring of each neighboring hill, As hope still promised with each coming day Thy watched return — how oft but to betray; And when its voice with less assurance came. While busy memory ceaseless called thy name. Love, trembling, sank on sorrow's pallid breast, And there, disconsolate, sobbed itself to rest. But this no more; sorrow shall wait on joy, Which must alone the hours now employ ^i«uaX9iW<-> J f? I 8' !, 24 CUBA. With thy return, thou truant wanderer; And first account thee since we parted here. Then didst thou promise, by thine own true heart, E'en thus: 'but for a little time we part; ' And now the moon, then newborn, hung on high. Full thrice hath waned along the summer sky. And see!— why thus in military mien Art thou returned? Where hath my Pasco been. That thus of dress, as for some carnival, Absence has been so strangely prodigal? •T is sure thy humor,-yet thy pensive eye ^^ Scarce seems to bear such presence company. "Then with thine own softly persuasive eyes, Shall they but bear love's happier embassies: ^ E'en as thou say'st: ' sorrow on joy shall wait, As love would sorrow e'er anticipate Which still o'erbodes; while 't is but ,oy to weigh In love's sweet balance sorrows passed away. Called from thy side, still in our country's cause. The cause of justice and of freedom s laws Employed each hour.-too brief to liberty Yet oh, how lengthened distant far from thee, Would 't were not mine to tell thee that in vain Our land still struggles 'neath oppression s cham, That still her sons must strive, nor free her soil From despots who her of her rights despoil. Come now the hour when all who love their isle, ''-iWit.^ ,;#^4i(j^S>!*M» ^i^^im^aimMt^s 30 CUBA. Voiceless beneath that grief which hath but power To feel, and in its night of woe to see But the dark image of its agony! " Nay let not ay, (lay I lin, E(l shrine, sign." se changeful jumes. spoke, pulses broke try's need )lead; once shrink ■ drink? shall knell ell, all sigh And hope shrank, trembling, from that diieful thou^^ht, As one wild Imrst of anguish swept her breast And choked its pulses, trembling into rest. .\mid the flowers he laid her form, and now Smoothed the dark tresses from her i)allid brow, And with caresses, as o'er he kneeled, Sought to restore the life which pain congealed. And through their channels from her heart to bear The crowding currents which were chilling there! A spirit-tenderness sought her sweet face. Soothing each line to placid loveliness; A beatific calm, like that in death Which still reflects, though ceased fore'er thebreatli, The soul's last, sweetest smile, serenely si)read O'er the all but living features of the dead. Now raised htr eyelids, fringed in mourning hue. Where tears were trembling, as the early dew Trembles in beauty, 'neath the paling night. Ere well the sun dissolves it into light. On him, half wondering, fixed her saddened eyes, Where resignation draped love's sympathies, Which there were gathered, with her sable shade, For hope deep in the heart's sepulchre laid. As in his arms he raised her to his side, Around his neck her own were fondly laid, e not!"— ..jaiSinmiJiiiiim>^!t^umi»m»:iesmimiiJiisiumit tiis»w«atjM.a»t»' )3 CUBA. While that pure tribute, love's chaste throbbmgs UponT.iVlips in lingering fear was sealed. .. l.-arcwell, my Lolo," anod le, o'er irinore. height night, in side amed tide, emed ng height,— moonlight, - length Into the darkness of the cavern's strength. Weired, ominous, like dread plutonian shades. High up the mount, o'er glooming crag ami pass. Ranged the dark pines, which the bright, starry hosts, Sentrying the night, seemed watching tremulous! No sound disturbed the stillness save the cry Of the lone night-bird, calling plaintively. With the soft voice, communing with the night, Of falling water, white in the moonlight. Which from the mountain sought the river's breast, And with it mingling, hushed itself to rest. Fur up the height, along a mountain pass, Skirting the brink of measureless abyss, Now and anon gleamed, 'gainst the darkened height Of rock o'ertowering, the portentous light Of glisl'ning steel, whose momentary gleams Chilled the soft whiteness of the moon's pale beams. There on the height repose the patriots sought, Slumbering upon their arms, yet wakeful caught The voice which told another hour had gone That cunning Time from friendly Night had won, As in the mount's defile the sentinel In cautious utterance said, " Men all is well," Then quick again upon the pass he stood, Courting its shades, as the calm solitude *0 . ^iaai»iMfiiijB»aM»>ri»i'iirtwiiwiinu...^ us care, — jrking there? can sight /on mountain ;adth half o'er farther shore 's bed y shades o'er- r's creed y bleed; ght, Spain to-night. lead us on, tnown? " ends, g rocks ascends ;W — nust show!" e turning, said,— le shade CUBA. 35 " The enemies of Spain Keep yonder height, nor dream ere night shall wane The rocks that now their rebel slumbers keep Loud shall re-echo with their own death- shriek. We cross below where yonder rock o'ershades; Look to your arms; see that no naked blades A warning bear to traitor eyes, for know But to their hearts such messengers should go." Then to the guide: " Pepillo, lead the way; Now steady — March! " The column moved away Along the stream, and silently it trod With measured cadence o'er the yielding sod. Soon reached the ford, they halted. " Pepillo, Scan well the height— say, canst thou see the foe? " " Look thou, my chief, see'st thou that gleam of light? Wait but a moment— now upon the height Above the fall? " " Aye, there — but now 't is gone " — " Lose not a moment " — " Steady, men, as one, March!" In they moved. Invaded thus, the stream Plaintively murmured, as in some strange dream The restless slumberer. — Soon 't was left to rest. And scarce a ripple trembled on its breast. Traversed the plain, 'neath the disguising wood ^.;fc^^ij:as»te»!wa&wrBaa^^i8^*.t^iS^iatefe*£^aii*c^£iBe^ 36 CUHA. Soon at the mount the halted column stood. Once more was scanned with stealthy eyes the height, Once more there glimmered that betraying light, As the clear moon illumed the pass, till now Veiled by the shadows from the cliffs ^Aa^3Kilailfetft^^^^aB^dfcJai«i^gi^^^s^^^^&g^atia l^^ 38 cunA. From peak to peak of towering rocks, His carbine's crash-the signal set Should night unmask her dread alarms, And ihcy. surprised, by foes beset. No moment find to call to arms- For springing from a neighboring height. With bayonets glimmering in the light Of early dawn, he there beheld The hated foe,-as wildly swelled Those maddening pulses in his breast Those feel by tyranny oppressed. Which know no wilder throb of hate Than that when face to face they meet Their Despot's slaves, who crav'n would dare To bind them with the chains they wear! Quick as his thought his lead as true, Struck from the cliff a foeman low; Nor had the signal failed, as told A crash of musketry which rolled. Re-echoing with the thunder's might From where the patriots held the height, 'Neath which above the crash arose The death-shriek of a score of foes, Which from the patriots brought a cry Of stern, defiant mockery. Then quick, in fierce reply, out-rang. As Pasco 'midst his comrades sprang, A volley from the Spaniard band, 'til CUBA. 39 Now closing fast on every hand, And 'neath its storm of iron hail Full many a noble patriot fell, Employing still ere hushed by death. The accents of his latest breath In freedom's name, as to her foes His shout of proud defiance rose. As sweeps the waves' impetuous might Against the cliff's opposing height, Their foam- locks streaming in the storm. Each like some fierce, demoniac form, On rushing with resistless force The strength which seeks to stay their course, Till backward hurled in turn they lie Low quivering in their parent sea. Again to rise — and yet again; As oft' flung backward to the main. Yet ihivering as they fiercely rush The rock-firm height they may not crush! So now, with bayonets set, and hair Back floating on the troubled air. No time for aught save steel now left, Forwa.d the islaxid patriots swept. Led on, — if aught the brave e'er lead, By Pasco, waving at their head Their country's flag, full proud to give Their lives, that its loved cause might live. Fired by the madly coursing blood Which swelled each pulse, a frenzying flood, I ii^e«t«>.«irHur«>i;^'?>lcfeySiP^eeM«fitil^9AiKl€h^MMSHE&S0^ 40 CUHA. Upon the hireling foe they dashed Undaunted, though out-belching flashed, Full in their course, a withering breath Of flame-red-tongued, which seethed with death. Mute as tHe dead, nor stopped, nor stayed, With fixed eyes and jaws close laid; Kach springing where a comrade fell. There summoned by his last death-yell, Ikeathing that atmosphere of hell! Onward they swept like wave on rock. Till now, with all resistless shock. Closing upon the foe, they rushed — Beneath that shock, recoiling, crushed Down — down, as many a bosom writhed Beneath the freezing steel there sheathed; That lingered not, but quick once more With tireless vengeance reeked in gore From breast to breast, congealing there The currents stagnant 'neath despair. Till cleft the arm which urged it fell Low quivering in its purple rill! High swelled the frightful din of war. The wild death-shriek; the shivering jar Of splintering steel; the stifled groan. Half choked ere breathed; the fitful moan From life's low pulse; the sabres' clash; The murd'rous volley, flash on flash; The locking bayonets, rent apart. ,l:li- t CUHA, 41 ;h nth death. tayed, 11, led led; re •e ar noan To plunge revengeful in each heart, As if, imbued witft very life, Conscious they shared their masters' strife! Now backward forced, scarce half remain. But step by step — then yet again Fierce dashing on the wavering foe, Each laid another Spaniard low, As sinews straining, hand to hand. The few still left of that brave band — Pale as the dead; each forehead set With beads of cold, congeal&d sweat; Sprang at a foe, defiant still, In hate which death alone could kill. Ah! who that awful shock may tell, When waves of human anger swell In fierce contention; battling where Meet livid hate and grim despair; Who paint that hour of frenzied strife When passion spares not — asks not life; Nor thrills to joy's exultant breath As to the closing cry of death Forced from the heart wherein the steel It presses with a savage zeal! Beset as one of wolves the prey, O'ermatching numbers kept at bay, Back forced, contesting foot by foot; Red-stained from many a streaming cut, There Pasco, foremost in the fray. 4* lii CUBA. Battled the foe defiantly! Above his head the flag he held, One arm but free its folds to shield, Which wielded with resistless might His sabre,— busiest in the fight. Struck from his hands the colors lay. Forward he dashed: the foe gave way, Save one more bold who dared contest His way, and sought from him to wrest The prize regained, but all in vain — One more was numbered with the slain! As up his height he proudly drew, And fearless scoffed the hated foe. But the fast ebbing scarlet tide Down coursing from this breast and side, Had sapped bis life, and his proud cry Broke in a gasp of agony! Fast on their victim doomed they press- Back yielding, till by deep abyss. From which up-rose a doleful roar. Like that from waves which beat the shore. Far distant heard, now Pasco stood Defiant still— still unsubdued. While round him, eager for his life, His foes fast closed. The torrent's strife, Deep down the gorge, he heard, and knew It swept unmeasured depths below, Nor aught between where hope could trace For Daring's foot a refuge place! CUBA. ^ 43 Then the first fear his bosom knew Cast o'er his face a pallid hue, As there commingling curdled stood Out-starting drops of sweat and blood. One glance quick sought the foe-kept pass; Quick one the yawning precipice, Then with a shout of proud disdain, A challenge to the arms of Spain! He turned and down the canon leaped, Still grasped the flag so bravely kept; So nobly borne in life, 't was meet In death 't should be his winding-sheet. X. The struggle o'er, in death's embrace Each patriot soldier, face to face There with his foe, sank down to rest. Undrawn the steel from many a breast. The sunbeams there that morning played On many a shattered sabre blade Still grasped — with strength which, yieldlessly. Surviving life, seemed to defy E'en death — by those who, now laid low Fore'er, there but an hour ago Opposed them in that deadly strife. Refusing, as they spared not life ! Still now the scene, which but before Re-echoed with fierce battle's roar; lO'ii^aifiiiMimaiBiiesgi »)>%3:«:»tsuiii>>.^-« »..«ic%aEtfi^»AiVO!-^9i--t«^j3»jn lis Wfeg(-''%^it«***"' MAY. A PASTORAL. •' Spreads th ; fresh verdure of the fields and leads 'fhe dancing Naiads through the dewy meads." Cowper. I. Hail vernal goddess with thy floral train! Nor from thy praises can my Muse refrain, As thou, approacliiug with tliy bright-clad throng, Awak'st the earth to merriment and song. With loudest praise 't would welcome thee again As thy swift forces drive back o'er the main With shafts of sunlight, from the blighted earth. The ice-shod powers of the frozen North! It would thy course o'er hill and mead pursue. As all thou deck'st with robes of richest hue, And strew'st with flowers whose countless challice blooms Upon the air exhale their sweet perfumes. Beneath bright skies, fresh-azured from thy hand, Which smiling bend t' embrace the waiting land, Adorned by thee, see kindly mother Earth Invite a- field her children. Health and Mirth, (45) 46 MAY. Laughter and joy respond exultantly, And haste to join thy jocund coiu|)any, While on glad wing, upon thy course attend The plumaged.choir called from the summer-land. Close in thy steps, by sportive Frolic led, The merry cortege gambols o'er the mead, While songs of gladness fill the scene around, Which hill and dale harmoniously resound. Home by the swift-winged zephyrs through the air. Till Joy's full voice regchoes everywhere! II. All beauteous Spring! thou darling of the spheres. Before whose smile shamed Winter disappears; His face conceals yet lingers to survey The glad'ning prospects which thy charms display. What are thy charms let Nature's self declare To those who doubting to her courts repair, Where scenes delightful stretch on every hand, When thou with beauty spread'st the smiling land. Thy glory— not the pageantry of kings, My Muse adoring all enraptured sings; Not wealth's vain pomp, which partial Fate bestows Upon the few to mock the many's woes- Sinking its slaves in luxuries that blind Till man becomes unfaithful to mankind; Not thus with thee: with bounty prodigal, Impartially dost thou dispense to all, nil* Ui ■4iwTO»iw-«w«!!K«a»!=>'<"'**'^='''^'''*^ MAY. 47 ml mer-land. Around the jx-asant in lii ; lowly cot, Strewing thy gifts where princes are forgot, Nor circumscribed 'inong all earth's kind appears The meanest being but thy riches shares! d. 3imd, ul, gh the air, .1 jc spheres, •pears; rms display, eclare pair, r hand, liling land. Fate bestows laid a; ral, And thus thy hands e'en o'er the lonely d<;ad, Richest of llowers with lavish kindness s|)read, Whose blossoms laden with most rare perfume, .Attest thy memory of the silent tomb. There where the cherished of our hearts repose When reached that bourne where life's tired foot- steps close Beneath o'er-bending shades they brightly bloom. Tinting the deepening shadows of the tomb. By thee from earth, 'neath winter's blight there Raised to new life— fit emblems of the dead. There, like sweet guardian angels they appear. Breathing rich incense on the hallowed air And, spirit-voiced, in language love may know. Commune with us of those who sleep below. While their pure symbols to fond memory give The sweet assurance that they erer live. But still the glories of thy work I sing, () ever beauteous, ever friendly Spring! Amid thy scenes delighted still I stray, And all thy charms with fondest joy survey. O'er hill and dale behold the forests bare, The foremost subject of thy generous care, Vffb^ A m ^lmt Vr»t^J» ^M l W^ »iSgtli^ a: i! Still ever be it mine To swell th' J :iiioes of Thy power divine; To know Thee ever as Thou dost reveal Thyself in Nature, where Invisible Doth name Thee not, Almighty One! for there In love and power configured Thou dost appear! still. The Old Sbxton's Christmas Dream. I. 'Tis Christmas eve, and a cold clear night, And the earth is filled with the white moon-light, Which falls through the frosty air from on high. From the crys al blue of a winter's sky. And glistening rests on the drifted snow, And gleams on the half -iced stream below; And the slumbering earth, robed in white, arrays With multitudinous diamond sprays. By the Frost-king there unradiant strewn, Till illumed by the white-fire touch of the moon. II. Round the mountain's base the river glides, 'Neath the shadowy pine on its rugged sides. And creeps through the vale by the evergreen shade; By the fringing willows, all leafless made; By the hazel-copse, by the ice-bound wheel Of the moated, long unbusy mill, And into the quiet burg hard by, Whose quaint tile roofs sharply rise on high, Then onward flows to the distant wood. Where its voice alone stirs the solitude. (52) ^4 TIIK OLD SliXTON's CHRISTMAS DREAM. 53 III. The village church caps a' neighboring hill, O'ergrown with ivy and tufted moss, 'Neath giant poplars weirdly still, Which a shadowy net-work weave across The snow's white folds on roof and tower, (There deftly spread as by magic power); While above gleams the spire with its ■■ high, Set 'mid the brilliants that fill the sky. IV. From the gothic windows a dim light creeps Through the colored panes, and softly glows On the whitened sills, where it restless slcci)S, Or steals o'er the clustering moss that grows On mullion and transom and eaves above, (By lacing ivy there interwove); Then fades within— to appear again Softly tinting the many-colored pane. V. Old Kasper, the sexton, had wrought within As the midnight hour crept on apace. With clusters of holly and evergreen Adorning the walls of the holy place. Till weary grown; yet with heart aglow As he thinks of the morrow's eve, and how The children, with faces alight, will press ;ross on \y ^^5 54 THK OLD SEXTON'S CHRISTMAS DREAM. Round the Christmas tree in its loveliness. Now a little rest, as he croons a hymn, He seeks in a cushioned sconce, the while In the flickering, light, growing yet more dim, O'erscanning the drapings in chancel and aisle; And reclining thus— soothed the tired sight 'Neath cradling shadows that flit and creep,— Unconscious he drifts 'neath the trance of night And the mind, iiower-wise, folds itself in sleep. VI. 'Tis the Elfin band who all silently Weave the web of sleep, have him captive ta'en And laid 'neath the spell of their sorcery Tliey bind him tight with their silken chain. And in shadowy folds, which they weave from night. They muffle him close for their mystic flight. 'Tis the potent watch of the Elfin reign. And they gather fast on every hand, And soon at their visored chief's command Is their captive borne to their bright domain, To the golden scenes of the vision-land. Swift as thought its enchanted bounds they pass And its brilliance breaks 'neath the bluest height Of a fairyland bathed in roseate light, Filled with throngs of its airy populace. .\nd they move through grottos with jewels bright, Glittering many-hued in the rich rone-light, Ir ..3»i««*«iW!<****- TIIK OLD sexton's CHRISTMAS DKliAM. 55 That steals within, with the perfumed air, Frmn the flower-filled dells of the mystic sphere, Half seen beyond, 'twixt the arches high, Whence comes the sound of festivity. VII. The shadowy veil from the captive falls And his bonds change to garlands of blossoms rare, And they onward move as when pleasure calls And gladness and beauty is everywhere. And thus to the royal court they come; Reared on tinted marbles its crystal dome, Round circling in graceful colonnades, With fountains between, 'neath emblossomed shades, And in the midst on an ivory throne, (Its seat irridescent opal stone), Sits the Fairy-Queen robed in lily white, And crowned with a circlet of diamond light. VIII. On every side 'neath her gracious smile Her people the festive hours beguile In merry round, while on busy wing Some richest fruits to the banquet bring. For in fairy realm, — as proclaims the scene With its joy, good cheer and emblems green Speaking grateful praise, — 'tis a time of feast And thanksgiving for a danger past t ; lis f k 56 THE OLD SEXTON'S CHRISTMAS DREAM. To a noble king who freed their land From a giant grim, and on every hand Rarest frnits are spread, and glad heralds call Fairyland to the royal festival. IX. They gather fast from glade and grot, Elves and sylvan sprites and butterfly fays, Their little forms decked in textures wrought From flowers and broidered with gossamer rays. And they join in the bright festivities, Till the scene with their bouyant gladness rings. While the air is filled with sweet harmonies From their tinkling spangles and tuneful wings. it til But all is hushed ; for the fairy- queen Stands forth, and surveying with graciou' nen The throngs which gallery and court-waj SH, Thus in accents clear speaks the sovereig will ; " Our much-loved people, most glad are we To welcome you all to our royal fete, On this festal day when the memory Of our Champion-King we celebrate. Throughout the bounds of our goodly State To share our joy we have called you here, And your presence with loving heart we greet, The humblest alike with our highest ceer. "■«* _- THK OI.I) sexton's CHRISTMAS UREAM. 57 So all strangers sojourning in our domain, Have we bidden come— alike welcome all, For all hearts should meet on love's equal plane This day of love's grateful festival. " To-day, as he whom we honour came Of his own free will and kingly grace To save our realm, love alone should claim Our hearts and therein all else displace, While each for the other's happiness Gives foremost thought, as true love e'er will. And so shall the hours most joyous pass And goodness her highest charge fulfill. For the choice first-fruits which our people bring, As their custom 'tis from year to year. An oblation to our most honoured king. We yield due thanks. We ourselves shall bear Your offerings to him whom we all revere, For in honouring him most honour we Ourselves and the State we hold most dear. Which to him proudly yields its fealty. " And now let the feast proceed. Let all In our joy and good cheer participate, While the Dance and Song in glad carnival Rule the hour. Let each present emulate The next in mirth till our banquet hall With rejoicings loud reverberates ; .M ■i'1 58 THE OLU SEXIONS CHRISTMAS DREAM. While all hearts are linked in a chain of love ^^ That not fate nor the tides of years can move." XI. The Sovereign ceased. A round of glad acclaim And greetings followed, till the sound did seem To fill the air, yet soft as music is Of trebles sweet in gentlest harmonies. Poised o'er the throne or gliding on swift wing The fays of air moved gaily— scattering About their Queen rare floral sweets, whose blooms Imbued the air with delicate perfumes. XII. Throughout, the dwellers in this mystic sphere Greeted with joy their stranger visitor, Tendering rich fruits where'er he chanced to pass, As curtsying low with smiles and airy grace, Or strewing blossoms as he moved along Entranced with wonder 'mid the Fairy throng ; Wondering the while that so much beauty dwelt So close to earth, unknown-unguessed-unfelt. * » * * XIII. So sped the hours— how swiftly do they fly When only gladness bears them company ; When the rapt soul is moved by joy alone And recollection of all else is gone ; So sped the hours,— enchanting as they passed, Spa And Flas Afc Batl Inv( In r Till The To And The Of. As ( Slo> Yet Eac But Ofi The The To As ( The Flo ^^,- i^g^ts^s^mm^nem^mm^f' iKAM. TIIK Ol.n sexton's CHRISTMAS DRKAM. 59 ove love." acclaim 1 seem t wing ose blooms sphere :ed to pass, ace, T S hrong ; ty dwelt — unfelt. fly ne passed, Sparkling with beauty all too bright to last. And ntw appeared high 'mid the luniinous air, Flashing fresh beams of beauty everywhere. A form refulgent ; than all else more bright Bathing the scene in wonder-working light. Investing all ; each ray a shaft of flame, In might increasing as it grandly came, Till it did seem as its full glory filled The scene, (quick at the radiant advent stilled To breathless calm) all in its strength to hold And to transfigure into shimmering gold. The ambient blue dissolved ; a tremulous glow Of opal splendor flooded all below. As countless hues there glittering but before. Slow fading from the view, were seen no more. Yet though bereft of color still remained Each form and outUne in the vision-land. But silent now and motionless— a sight Of phantom pictures melting into light. Then 'neath its power, soon all potential grown, The fairy realm ; its populace, the throne To formless light were fused — And Kasper woke As on his face, through the church windows, broke The rising sun ; the sun of Christmas day Flooding the earth with its resplendent ray. i J' ' CHATTERTON. '• That marvellous boy that peiisheil in his uritle." Wordsworth. Inspire, O Muse, the sadd'ning theme I raise 'I'o one wiio luved thy i^reseuce,— sang thy praise In sweetest voice of all thy minstrel choir I'rom the first hour his fingers swept the lyre Received from thee,— its dulcet strings supplied Kroui silver in that fire purified Which in llie temple of thy sacred hill. Though now but smouldering, warms thy altar still. Inspire my theme: a theme adorned to grace The sweetest song, the noblest minstrel's lays, To one whose lyre, so rich its numbers came, Shed a new glory on thy sacred name. A heaven-born spirit which from its bright sphere Wandering to earth, lingered a little here To sing the songs which it had known before With kindred spirits on the Klysian shore,— Earth's tongue in their celestial harmonies Re-echoing here the music of the skies! (60) Sv Y« Ai F( H A Yi W Ai A! Tl 1'. W Tl O G O "1 II ' A W A W c ^'''*|'"^BKSS««a»^S'^^BSs*88S£^ CHATTERTON. 6l Sweet bard! how bright thy sun of promise rose, Yet oh, what shadows gathered toward the close, And ere it reached the height of life's noon-day Foro'er in darkness (juenched its wondrous ray. liow bright that sun, behold where passed its light A ray of glory illumines death's night, Yielding a beam immortal to that fire Which on Fame's height lights Genius' sacred pyre. As lesser spheres a symmetry do show As truly perfect as the greater, so The narrowed circle of thy life not less Perfection showed for its littleness, Wliere, like the planet with the belt of light, Thy star of Genius blazed along the height Of fame unique; and though so quickly gone, Gave forth a glory which was all thine own. Of all mankind the Muse did e'er endow ' Twas thine alone mature in youth to know. " The gift divine," wherein thou didst display — An inspiration but revealed in thee, With genius, knowledge; knowledge e'en earth's Seers Amazed beheld— to all the work of years ! Amid the quiet of primeval woods. Where the sweet voices of its solitudes Contentment breathed, the brook, the meek-faced flower, The grateful songster, and in night's still hour !' 62 CMATTEKTON. 5i; Tlio stars were thy sweet loves, still sought by thee With lore than fondest lover's constancy, Drawn to their chasteness by that force that gives To love to seek. its own correlatives. With the eternal hills : the great, deep sea Familiar didst thou commune ; they to thee Were but as loved companions. With dread voice The Tempest, robed in night, earth, sea and skies Stirring to strife— as through the trembling air, Hurling its bolts it swept, its course the glare Of the fierce lightnings 'luraing,— was to thee A sight which gave thy soul supremacy Of joy, as with the Storm-king's awful form Attendant rode thy spirit on the storm ! Thy faithful heart,— e'en as the clinging vine Struck by the worm, round its loved ones did twme Its richest offerings, yielding sweetest breath E'en while below cankered the worm of death. Thy love its rich warm soil ; its only air Draughts humid 'neath the cold mists of despair ; Its only light, hope's distant, dying ray, A spark expiring in eternal day ! Relentless fate, inexplicable doom ! Which thus consigned thy genius to the tomb, And swept thy hopes ; thy promise richly fair Into the grave to sleep forever there, Nor let thee know in life's resigning breath The kindred voice that soothes the pain of death. % CHATTERTON 63 ht by thee that gives ea hee Iread voice and skies ing air, glare thee orm ; vine :s did twine reath death. if despair ; : tomb, ily fair sath I of death. Then in thy mind bright scenes forever past, Upon thy soul distracting shadows cast, To make thine anguish still but deeper grow, Till thou hadst supped the very dregs of woe ; While— as the lightning's momentary flight Illumes the clouds, encumbering the night. And breaks the darkness of the midnight sky But to increase its black intensity,— Memories of home within thy hapless breast Flashed through despair's thick cloud that round thee pressed, Which in their brightness served but to illume And show how dark the shadows of the tomb, And, passed away, in thy distracted mind, Left a dread darkness doubly black behind. Insatiate Pride ! beneath thy direful sway, Thou scourge of earth, thou subtle votary Of Death 1 of Genius all thou mayst o'ercome. How oft hath sought the silence of the tomb. Youth, Beauty, Worth, earth's mightiest thy prey ; O'erthrown by thee see Nations in decay. Of which thou'st left,— of Genius, Nations all, But monuments to show how great their fall. Serpent-like, coiled within that hapless breast. Implacable ! 'Twas thou his life oppressed ; With lying tongue on to destruction, stilled The voice of reason, thou his steps beguiled, 64 CHATTERTON. Then e'en when most thou promised, did betray To death the victim of thy perfidy. And thou, O World ! in thy cold selfishness. Witnessed the victim fall, yet to distress, Borne e'en that thou might'st greater riches know, Brought not relief, nay, dealt the final blow Which all of genius death hath power to bind, To the dark precincts of the tomb confined. Is it for this the Muse her riches gives ; Is it for this that patient Genius strives Earth's unseen things of beauty to reveal From secret places gleaned with tireless zeal,— To live the drudge of penury and care ; The dupe of hope ; the victim of despair ; The world's cold incredulity to brave ; To sink forgotten to a timeless grave. That those may share a wealth which else must lie Buried in Nature's sealed infinity. Who while they scruple not the fruits t' enjoy, Ungrateful coldly pass the laborer by. May shame o'erwhelm thee. Selfishness ! when on The tomb that holds the dust of Chatterton Thou look'st. Thou Pride, should'st thou per- chance there too Resort, may'st thou remorseful sorrow know, While humbled ye within your hearts confess. Else dumb, how less ye are than littleness ! -_v,^;^:,ij(i>t:„iiiii*ii SEA PICTURES. One summer's day, beside the murmuring sea, Stretched on the beach, I slept, and dreamed I saw A noble ship, which, out upon the deep, Moved proudly o'er the waters toward the east. Calm as a mountain lake the ocean lay Beneath the brightness of a noon-day sun. Yet did it seem as if the sultry air Of summer's heated breath upon its breast Oppressive lay, and in its mighty heart. Deep down, disturbed its slumbering forces— stirred To restless throbbings, as its bosom swelled In slow pulsation, and then sank away In strange disquietude. Encircling, arched Sublimely o'er the azure vault of heaven. Upon whose royal height enthroned sat The god of day, in dazzling glory robed. O'er the still depths the ship majestic moved, As sportively she scattered with her prow, About her path,— all glittering in the sun. Unnumbered brilliants of unnumbered hues, Which she did gather from the emerald deep, While from her rolled upon the diowsy aiT ^ (65) 66 SEA PICTURES. A long, dark line of fume, which sought the haze Of rotate tint, far in the glimmering chstance. Upon her decks the "toilers of the sea, Sun-browned in Service, each h.s duty sought. While in the rigging some the useless sail With busy fingers folded to a.e yards. All merry-hearted singing as they wrought. Beneath an awning shading from the sun Reclined the ocean voyagers, and there Upon the air all merrily arose The careless laugh, the voice of happiness, And busy tongues of little o^^J.^^ P^^f/ ^ Heiutv and Youth with faces bright, illumed beauty anu . ^ j gt smile. With love and hope, and Age wuu In happiest intercourse assembled were. Others apart from those thus grouped about Sought to beguile in quicker pace away, Thl'lingerinf hours of the hot ---^^f;/^^ With tales of Fancy's paintmg; some o ercome T^v its soDorous breath in slumber lay, wVil: here and there one o'er the bulwarks leaned In listless dreamings. gazing o'er the wave. Aside were two: one Beauty's prototype Set in a frame of fairest loveliness; The other Beauty's proud defender-Youth From Nature's sturdier, bolder model .nan. As silvery clouds in fleecy softness veil The chasteness of the virgin summer moon. SEA PICTURES. 67 Here white attire, in sweet abandon, draped Her lovely form— in nameless grace composed. As she, reclined beside him whom she loved, Gave ear attent, as he read to her thought; Read of some sorrow, as expression told, Moulding her face to sweet solicitude— Of holy sympathy, throned in the heart. The superscription. So her lustrous eyes,— Liquidly brilliant as the glisfning dew Upon the new-blown, trembling violet,— Pearled in warm tears, did each emotion glass. Which that sad tale awoke within her heart But this was passed, and like the sun's fresh glow Of heat and light when April showers are o'er, With a soft brightness beamed her tear-daraped eyes, Resting on him who, ceased, in their sweet depths Poured from his own love's warm responsive rays. * » * * The scene was changed: upon a rock-bound coast I stood; darkness had gathered over all. •Gainst the dark sea high loomed the wallmg cliffs Amid the starlit air, their towering fronts Stern frowning, om'nous, warders of the deep, Robed in the sombre livery of Night. About their caverned base lamentingly The troubled waters tossed, 'neath the weird wind, Which to the night distressfully complained, 1 , r,.p^(3?y;r)PST?urr^='^35S5SiSE5s-^i«i 68 SEA PICTURES. In wild and fitful voice. Higher it rose And 'neath it soon high swelled and fiercely lashed The surge in angry clamor 'gainst the cliffs, While black impenetrable clouds rolled o'er, Piled mass on maSs, high 'mid the thickening air, And quickly curtained with their darkened folds The ebon vault of heaven, an hour before Whence countless stars looked down upon the sea. Far distant, from its cloud- built battlement, Rending night's pall, the wakened lightning pierced With gleaming shaft the bosom of the deep! Responsive to the Storm-king's awful voice, Deep-swelling from afarj then opened fast The many portals of the walling clouds. Piled up the vaulted height, to passage give The spirits of the tempest. Issuing forth, They, riding on the winds, did fiercely urge The elements to strife, most clamorous Where lightning-led they ranged the watery waste, Which, thus illumined, its waves dark, serpentine, Revealed, high surging in encounter wild. Like huge leviathans in fury met Fiercely contending. Now above the roar Of the loud sea the deepening thunder rose — And died away upon the wind. Anon From the dark zenith of the firmament, In louder voice its angry mutterings broke, And rolling downward burst into a crash! Then every cloud, in emulation fierce, SEA PICTURKS. 69 Thundered reply, rending the trembling air, As through the ambient darkness, inky grown. Each gave defiant challenge to the night, And hushed the mighty roaring of the sea. Flaming, the lightnings, red-tongued, lick the waves. Which heavenward madly reared their mammoth forms. Till, by the tempest struck, back hurled they plunged With roars defiant to their surging depths. Out on the sea, lit by the lightnings' glare, Flash following flash in wild velocity, A ship swept on before the tempest's strength. Rose with the maddened waves, sank as they sank. Then in the hadean darkness disappeared. The fulmines of the storm were spent, though still The forces of the wfnds swept to the cliffs, Resistless in their might, hurling the waves, To fury lashed, 'gainst their black adamant, As if back summoned to their cavern strengths, Rebellious they in fierce resentment raged. The broken clouds now hurried o'er the sky. And laid their shattered masses 'neath the arch Which marks the southern limits of the heavens, Their serrate summits by the moon illumed, Which now released, in mellow brilliancy Flooded the waves, to very mountains grown. 70 SKA nCll'KKS. There, laboring o'er their heights, the doomed ship Rose, mastless, tottered on their giant crests, Then headlong i)hinged to their abyssnial depths, U.it rose not up again.— The waves rolled o'er Inexorable — ***** From my sleep I woke; Still murmuring, in the sunset lay the sea. It QUAND MEME. Once more by the old window with the fragrant eglantine, As of old its sweetness breathing, — now o'ergrown with cohimbine, Three years this June we parted at this very s'.nset time: I scarce can realize that since I've been in irany a clime. So natural the dear old scene, for though iVe years since gone Have shown me many beauteous scenes th'i held my heart alone. And that's the old-time abenlied, so loved, which now you play, Whose voice, like some sweet spirit, through the past has followed me In all my wanderings, and when most alone 't wr-s sure to come, And fill me with the deep longings for the then far distant home. Its sad, sweet strain recalls to me the chant of vesper bells - (71) J w ^^i^i^s^if^smma^s^^esmiivm'e'esx 73 QUAND MfcME. Once heard upon the stillness from a cloister's wocidcil hills, As close along the Spanish coast one summer s eve we bore, . . , When all was silent save the waves upon the ncigh- boring shore. , Now heard once more, here at your side, tts ne cr forgotten strain Awakes sweet recollections, interminghng )oy and Throbbingrof joy that sweetly thrill, by busy Mem- ory brought, Then sadly tremble into rest strttck by the chdl of thought, , As fast on recollection comes each well remembered scene, , , Which now-sweet picture of the past!-but show what might have been; And these alone remain to me of all that happy time, , , . In the heart's darkened chamber hung, draped m memoriam. There might have been no shadows,-if love may dare surmise From the old light which timidly has crept mto your The same' that kindled in my heart the flame love may inspire, QUAND MfeMK. 73 oister's ir's cvc Heigh- ts ne'er joy anil y Mem- chill of umbered )ut show It happy raped in love may into your lame love Which, like watch lamps in holy fanes, proves but memorial fire, lire since, when blinder than our hearts, we parted hastily In wounded pride, and I became a wanderer on the sea. You surely loved me. May, but then, ere wealth was mine — the prize I sought to gain the greater,— you feared the sacrifice, For you could not renounce for me what I could not supply: That luxury which you enjoyed and could not well deny Yourself. For this I question not: man has no right to ask Such sacrifice; we men who make of love loo oft a mask. And though now fortune has removed that barrier aside. What matters it, since 1 have lost the only wealtn I pride. Your faithful heart remembers still for though you answer not, That tear now trembling on your cheek shows that the springs of thought Have been disturbed by memory, and thus o'erflow- ing rise,--- I ir .,i^to«Sfci*aflW*^si^*w«s*»*-rt^.»F_itiiaM*WJiBfea^«^^^^ I af^'ilW UJ i te gKt^*awr-«t'«MM^eiE^^i>'£ti^»^ac««lMtfi)eAM^:^!«^<4^ 76 QUAND mI:me. And the droning bee hums idly by in the sultry August noon, Lingering to sip from weary flowers winch neath the still heat swoon. White-winged a solitary ship far out upon the sea, Reflects the noon- day sunlight, soon o'erclouded, and to me , ^u- This seems a fitting image of the lot I bear this Alone on^life's broad ocean, and the sunlight passed away, ,,.,•« * And o'er its havenless expanse my bark of hfe must bear, . O'ersha.lowed by the se memories which must ever darken there. Thus hope's delusive star how oft in sorrow's night declines. And to dark disappointment's shades our happiness consigns; Yet can the image which awoke that hope ne er fade EmbalmTd^lIthe heart's sepulchre, from "feeling's dull decay." « P; w n i i if n ^ ,J*aaWSttaBffi*ai**K*«Jw*«?**'S^iAi^ ,^i'-/=':^-'^'^':^vitt^-r-^ VfiHi.'f^'i.smJ-ftf-.S^ti^iEi^w. SONNETS= If rflJKBa*^^^*'?''*^*^'*''^^' A NIGHT IN JUNE. 79 A NIGHT IN JUNE. The deep blue firmament begemmed with light Bending o'er earth, like love o'er slumbering love; The spirit Peace, descending from above, Hushing all things to silence as the night Comes solemnly. Still as in gentlest flight The breath of unseen wings, soft zephyrs stray Among the sleeping flowers, and steal away Their hearts' perfumes. Amid the sparkling height The beetle drones, or falls the night-bird's cry While insect bands their minim notes attune On every side — Anon the orient sky Dissolves in light as the round, silver moon Sails up the blue in queenly majesty, The crowning glory of a night in June. gBa*^^««*5S****'*"**'^ v-jp-isu-i^ij^^ssifJi J (trXi'.ifcsJ"-?-!" „J 8o INRI. INRI*. When on the cross hung man's high sacrifice, Death near approached his work to execute, Awe-struck recoiled, in fear irresolute His office on his King to exercise. Then bowing to his breast his head, the Christ Made sign to the Implacable, that he, Without regard to right of sovereignty, Should claim the sacrifice at which was priced Man's sin. Then did th' Inexorable strike— The fearful Sun to darkness paling fled; Earth trembling shrank to night's embrace, the dead E'en by that deed of their dread prince made quick Did him defy— he had forever spent His power in striking the Omnipotent! ♦From the French of an unknown author of the seventeenth cent.iry: con- tained in a little poem entitled "La Mort du Christ." which was found m- scrihed upon the principal gate of the cemetery «hich formerly surrounded the Church of Sainte Trinite, in Cherbourg. MUSIC. 81 century; con- was fimiul iii- rly surmiimled MUSIC. ce, lite, nrist iced brace, the ade quick Come, sarrcd Muse, naught like thy strains compose The longing heart, nor there can charm to rest Its discontent, yet oh, what peace it knows When by thy entrancing presence 't is possessed! E'en as a bird at the first dawn of day Sought by its mate, joins it and soars away Through sun-flushed fields of azure, circling round To some bright glade where cherished fruits abound. My soul solicitous, at thy behest, To thy loved realm enraptured wings its flight, Led on by thee there lingering with delight; Soaring aloft— or cradled into rest. All other joys the passions but control, 'T is thou alone hath power to reach the soul! ■* CW^-'K'-1HM*4HMtI *M I > 83 TO-MORROW. TO-MORROW. I he aarkne.s o ^^ ^ ^^^^^^. Thus marked but as mc a»a A transitory cloud destined to show u Tf m the light beyond. Lo now. though far To o e Time s darkened corridors between Its br ghtne's falls, as though some dark a.sle seen Its origiii thitherto Hope's star The light of day, and thUherto v Which ever in .h. afte' y«« *«", "'^ The de«cs. of .11 records dear to lovcl SOLITUDE. 83 SOLITUDE. ire know luld seein dream; ough far letween irk aisle seen star n with joy Time's flight constancy, ive .t Oh, I do love to wander by the shore And watch the restless waters of the deen, As the night winds across its bosom sweep, Blending their strange complainings with its roar! I love to wander through the shadowy wood As, phantom-like, the soft moonlight there creeps. Where, 'neath the sentrying stars, tired Nature sleeps And Silence sits enthroned in Solitude! Such scenes a deep, mysterious pleasure bear, And wake a prescient spirit in the breast, Timid of day, which from a vague unrest Finds glad relief raptly communing there With spirit voices from far spheres which tell Of distant worlds, to sense invisible! 84 MEDITATION. MEDITATION. 5 ' !l > M In that still hour when the declining day Along the sky fades tranquilly away, When o'er the earth the glimmering twilight creeps, All voices hushing as dear Nature sleeps. In solitude, naught save the symphony Of ocean heard, I love to seek thy charms. Where naught ignoble the glad soul alarms, As rapturously it yields itself to thee. Silent thou art, thy silence eloquence. Raising the soul to its inherent life. Which, casting off its mortal instruments, Soars far beyond earth's narrow scene of strife, And, led by thee, views that immortal state In which it too shall soon participate! VENICE. 85 VENICE. i light creeps, 21)S, larms, larms, its, le of strife, itate How doth thy name conjure th' historic past, Queen of the Isles; once of the East supreme! How to thy courts the proudest Nations came And at thy feet their richest tribute cast. Most valiant then thy sons, and thy domains Far-reaching as the waves thy galleons cleft; Then Venice Victrixl Now apart, bereft; Of all thy greatness but a name remains! Thy galleons gone — thy banners sadly furled; Still, bride of Ocean, though as queen discrowned, 'Neath bluest heavens, 'mid beryl seas thou'rt throned, Unique among the marvels of the world! Thy glory marked, forever now resigned, Tears dim the eyes and wonder fills the mind. *lw' T!^^!^!T^^^S!5SSSS^ m ^ m mt ! ,ff m ,it - q4i4^' V' " >-}f^ 7 K^i<--Tr ^' IMAGE EVALUATION TtST TARGET (MT-3) ^y ^,9 1.0 t I.I 50 '"^^ 1 2.5 2.2 - lis lllllio 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ■• 6" ► '/ //. Hiotographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 -■'s. I i'fc'i*"^. W> ■■-f?-?!-l^^ffVoi«^iv^VVT^T^ Ji^^j Rift ■,<»*^4* l/i f 6 CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques I .'J^^5Jj4^-'- ■^>«<«_^i,, ) ^ .Jd'- • "^^''''~- I { STANZAS. LOVE AND DIGNITY, 89 LOVE AND DIGNITY. It was June; in a vale, as the day was declining, Near a lakelet rose-hiied by the soft, waning light, Stately Dignity walked, in the silence resigning His thought to those scenes which most gladdened his sight. I Not far had he gone when he heard a deep sighing Which came from a cluster of roses near by, And great his surprise when among them espying The little god Cupid, — who'd ut^red the sigh. On his arm he reclined, with a rose in his fingers, From which he was plucking its petals away, And as a bright star on a cloud's summit lingers, A tremulous tear on his dark lashes lay. . f^gp^Man:jit ft ft^4 f . ^ aj>^^ THE GLADIATOR. Uf feels his lue depart, i nc y^ i From his torn side more slowiy r.t hnrror are his thoughts, Where -ueath his roo^ beside the mn Affection sees his darlmgmfant ones. Them by their mother's knee he there beholds. ^ While in a spectacle inhuman he FxnirinE lies, before an alien race, B„lr,el.oa™usc.heRo»>a„popuUce! ThrhaiUl.cvic.or-g.myo<».s blood! , J j„^i_«^«."*« *«*»'• '^■^*.»*-*'''*«'>iA'~'^-''" 98 HIS REPLY. And then, I had almost forgotten (?) Another rich strike has been made Where the gold merely has to be lifted Without labor of pick or of spade: Two months past 'twas struck up the mountains- Two years since the " digger " began; The result? Some few thousands to credit, — Can't you guess who's the fortunate man? Do you know him?— well, let me remember- Why, certain you do— don't you know "That unlucky digger" named Danvers— Joseph Danvers— more commonly Joe? That's me, Su',— what, don't you believe it? No wonder— I didn't myself Till I knew the North Bank to my credit Held a round fifty thousand of pelf. Yes, fifty and further take notice That I've sold out the claim as it stands For five hundred thousand gold, minted, And the checks have passed under my hands— Ah, my Beauty, how little you fancied In the midst of your fashion and glare That the man whom you loved as a " digger " Was that unlucky Joe — millionaire! HIS REPLY. 99 a?) le lifted de: the mountains- egan; to credit, — ate man? What next? — In two weeks I reach Denver, And forever good-bye to "the Fork:" And thence fast as wheels can whirl eastward I'll be with you, dear, in New York, And then we'll be finished by travel And learn what it means, and all that, And our joy shall be none the less telling For the memories of " Poverty flat." : remember- know Oanvers — ly Joe? I believe it? ny credit pelf. it stands minted, ier my hands — mcied d glare IS a " digger " ire! So good night and good-bye for a little, Altho' you're asleep as I write. For ten on this slope, if I err not. In your quarter is three in the night — Yet once more good night and be happy Henceforth and forever and know There is one who will strive so to make you, Joseph Danvers — more commonly JOE. :'V^»iai^^>*ti»*^ii^f;»\'> 100 THE EARLY BIRD. THE EARLY WORM, OF UNHAPPY MEMORY. I. Oft hath been told the ancient tale Yclept " the early bird," But with great naughtiness the truth Hath been but half averred. II. Once on a time a little worm,— Thus should the story run,— Arose with unsuspecting trust To greet the rising sun. III. Forth from his snug retreat he set Hard by a moss-grown wood; And whistled gaily as he went— Or would have if he could. ^^SSS^S^^is^vSi^^-ST^^'X^-^^*^*"^'^^'*'^ THE EARLY BIRD. lOI RM, :Y. ale :ruth set IV. He gained the mead and soon upon A hollow log he ,?«/, Which well he knew for oft thereon In the warm sun he sat V. And slept, curled in a little ball, For be it known that he Was not a common worm, but of The old Grub famil^^. VI. Full pleased was he with his own self And as the sun arose, He felt like juveniles who feel Too big for their small clo''es. VII. But soon into his ear there crept A bird's sweet minstrelsy, Which pleased him so that he fell to And danced right merrily. VIII. Alack the day! The warbler spied The all too giddy mite. And while he loved to trill full well A worm was his delight! « ne'er hast known; then 't was thy sire Tuned thy sweet voice? Nay, loud thy warblings tell, In praises rising softly, sweetly higher, 'Twas nature's (lod that fashioned thee so well! ry. on tisan sry ? ast iierring skill ? iced, will? af thine y? iivine acy ? Would I could tell thee how I love thy song; Mow dear to mc, tliou lovely one, thou art. Why fly'st thou from me ? I but fondly long With kindliest hand to lay thee to my heart. How happily would'st thou lie upon this breast, Did'st thou but know how warms my heart to thee; Now, captive there, in thy sweet eyes' unrest, Pained I behold thou fain would'st fly from mc. Thou can'st not understand my words, I know, But love hath many voices, and for thee Nature hath surely purposed one, and so I am content, for Time will teach it me. sw9iB#Tsr??w^' 112 MONA. MONA. How can I paint thy beauties; how relate Thy virtues ? words to compass them so fail Thy graces — e'en the cadence of thy feet, Make affluent Speech a poverty reveal, Language too poor to justly celebrate Tho temple of thv form ; the grace to tell Of its fair priestess, matchless ! Sight alone Can know how perfect Beauty's paragon! It may not be that peerless music's strain More richly sounds since I have known thy love ; It may not be fair Dian with her train Of stars refulgent, in her course above Now brighter beams; yet music's loved refrain Far sweeter is ; yon orbs — all things now prove Sources of joy undreamt, and to life yield Rich springs of sweetness ne'er before revealed. -,LL» ^,AAki^-^^\ MON'A. "3 E'en as the sim with its resplendent light Doth flood the world in nameless radiancy; Raising all sunk in darkness by the night To share the glory of his majesty, So shall thy love impart a new delight To every joy, and life's ambitions be Exalted to a nobler aim, and yet — Nay, thy sweet eyes rebuke that thought— /cr^^-// low relate iss them so fail •f thy feet, rty reveal, ebrate grace to tell Sight alone y's paragon! 'Mid their soft depths, dark as the star-filled skies, As 'mid the night heat's silent lightnings play In cpiivering warmth, love's flames reflected rise From the altar thy heart hath built to me. And there shall love with gladness sacrifice T (is self it hath bound captive, for to thee Who has enthroned love's image in my breast, 'Twould consecrate the life thou thus hast blest ! sic's strain ave known thy love ; T train rse above c's loved refrain I things now prove :o life yield 'er before revealed. As 't were from sleep Ihou'st waked me ; changed to day The darkness of the past,— ai)pedring now How dark ! And thence emerged all wondrously This new-found world breaks glorious on the view, And circling all— as doth the earth the sky! Love doth encompass this creation new, Of which thou art the Queen, a soverignty In which thou'st crowned me Consort unto thee ! 114 A THOUGHT. A THOUGHT. I watched a rose at evening fade away, As leaf by leaf its crimson richness fell, Anil sadly gazing thought, may thus decay Such beauty claim, thence irredeemable? I sought in vain the multitudinous dew, An hour before glitt'ring in bright array Along the sward, nor aught was left to show What glory thence had passed from earth away! The spirit of the flower, the soul, methought. Of fire in the dew, thus fled, must pass To some bright realm, and straight my fancy sought To place the sphere worthy such loveliness. To Phosphor floating in her sea of light— An isle of glory; to th' enchanted sphere Arched by the iris; to each star its flight Did Fancy wing— successless voyager. A THOUGHT. "5 IT. i away, ;hness fell, hus decay :deemable? I stood amid a scene of brilliant joy, Where Beauty moved, in Music's sweet embrace, Shedding on all a nameless radiancy From the divine effulgence of her face! Then Love exultant cried: " That fit repose By Fancy sought, e'en here all glorious view: In Beauty's cheek immortal blooms the rose; In Beauty's eyes the fires born in the dew!" us dew, ight array left to show 1 from earth away! 1, methought, must pass ght my fancy sought ich loveliness. of light— .nted sphere its flight voyager. -S=^^p— ^=^ 4 .■ '^ia':'i<**s^l>i'iSt9i.\^i^-\S^'i- ii6 MUSIC AND MLMOKY. MUSIC AND MEMORY. Music once wandering through the heart, As daylight died away, Found Memory sleeping by a tomb Whose verdure withering lay. Whispering she touched the slumberer, Soft as the moon's pale beam The folded flower, then passed away As vanishes a dream. Memory awoke and caught the voice Re-echoing plaintively. Then, weeping, viewed where she had slept, And oh, how bitterly! But balmful were the tears thus shed, And the flowers which there drooped lay Beneath their sweet refreshment bloomed And beautified decay. RY. MUSIC AND MEMORY. 117 ^ORY. 1 the heart, tomb And now, no greener spot is there For Memorjr loves to twine The richest verdure of the heart Around that sacred shrine. umberer, m I away .^r^-^p-^=S- ; voice she had slept, s shed, drooped lay nt bloomed ii8 THE DAKOTA. THE DAKOTA. A FRAGMENT. I. Far 'neath the crimson west, all sear and brown, Range the dark hills of the Dakota land, By arid plains; yet farther, looking down On pine-gloomed wilds, where waters darkly grand Leap their rock-walls. There wide the wind-drift sand. The ashen alkali, stretches a-plain, O'er which, else shadeless, sun-scorched sparsely stand The lonely cotton-woods; and as a-main Ships' sailless masts, becalmed, 'neath burning skies. From 'far appear, their slender heights arise. II. There in primitive lodges of the plain, Dwelt the Dakota tribes confederate. The land possessing 'twixt the rock-forged chain Of mountains westward and the river great, "Father of waters " named, which through the gate THE DAKOTA. 119 rA. Of Delta rolls into the southern sea. Foremost in war, with courage desperate, Of all the mightiest braves most dreaded they, Till in defence 'gainst them combined arose Tribes which else held themselves deadliest of foes! ear and brown, kota land, ig down raters darkly grand dde the wind-drift ain, ■scorched sparsely as a-main eath burning skies, eights arise. plain, lerate, ck-forged chain e river great, ;h through the gate III. For countless years, free as the winged wind. And scarce less fleet; more fierce and deadlier far. O'er plain and through deep forests, rock-confined To -> pulses move, re •don of love. Chorus. A sky of purest sapphire, A shore of silver sand; The constant ocean whispering Its love unto the land. A sail all solitary Drifting across the sea. As hearts drift on in silence, Unknown their destiny. Refrain. Beauteous, ah beauteous, earth and sea and air, Yet joy my spirit finds not anywhere; Patience, O, faithful heart, e'en as day follows night And darkness is resolved to beams of radiant light, So shall the shadows pass And joy replace the sorrow. Patiently — hopefully. So shall gladness come to thee. 'A i' i 128 SONG. II. In vision-land I linger, Hope's dream is pictured there; I call: no voice in answer; I wake and all is drear— When shall the shadows vanish And life be at its best; When shall the heart's fond longings In joy's completeness rest? Refrain. ►€=^■^^"^=9- A REMEMBRANCE. 129 A REMEMBRANCE. I stood alone on the pebbled beach As the moon rose over the sea, And the doleful break of the restless waves, Brought sad memories to me. Across her silvery path o'er the wave A ship passed into the night; Though it glided by ere I'd viewed it well, I can never forget that sight. E'en thus, I thought, on life's path appear Sweet faces a moment seen, Then lost to us: a grave in the heart Which memory keeps ever green. 130 1 LOVE TO LOOK INTO THINE EYES. Ul II ■l; I Love to Look Into Thine Eyes. I love to look into thine eyes, Thy soul's bright mirrors, where Its crystal depths reflect-ed beam- Glancing in beauty there ! I love to look into thine eyes, Sweet springs which, sparkling o'er Life's arid plain, refreshment yield Else never known before. I love to look into thine eyes Where virtues mirrored are; Virtues which Modesty would hide By Truth revealed there. LINES IN AN ALBUM. 131 ling o'er yield LINES IN AN ALBUM. Spotless this page where now my verse I place; E'en thus the record of thy young life is. Would that as here friendship I fondly trace I there might grave enduring happiness. d hide The Same As when beneath the church-yard's quiet shade We wander musing at the close of day, And mark the sadd'ning records telling there Of fondest friendships which have passed away; So in life's evening when thine eyes shall stray Amid these pages, to thy memory dear. Pass not this leaf — in friendship's sacred name Fondly I now inscribe '* remembrance " here. 132 LINES IN AN ALBUM. The Same Goodness is thy beauty's dower Unobtrusive as the flower Shadowed in the lea; Silvery as the brooklet's trebles Flowing o'er enamelled pebbles Sounds thy voice to me. The Same. My autograph you ask ? Behold Upon this page I gladly write it. May smiles alone attend the lips At whose command I now indite it. LINES Written in the fly leaf of a book presented to Dr. on his return to his home in Bermuda. With this adieu— alas that jealous Fate Should ever thus fond friendship separate! Mayst thou and thine by joy e'er compassed be , As are thine isles by their glad, sunlit sea. LINES. 133 >wer bles bles tehold ite it. e lips indite it. i to Dr. on his 'ate parate! mpassed be it sea. TO « * » In her high temple Memory shall enshrine,— As love hath in the temple of the heart, — Thy image 'neath that of the Muse divine, Whose votary and favored child thou art. LINES. If o'er each worthier birth some proud star shines, Importing favors for its foster-child, By genius dowered or gifted from the shrines Which hold the wealth of Virtue's sacred guild. Surely o'er thine in whom combined appear Genius and virtues which might more adorn, In happiest conjunction many a star Propitious beamed, blessing the natal-morn. 134 LOVE IN ABSENCE. LOVE IN ABSENCE. <• En cl amor la auscencia cs oino el aire, >\v.c apaga el fucco chico, c enciende el grandc." —Spanish Troverb. il^ A little fire Must soon expire 'Neath the wind's agitation, Whereas the same A greater flame Swells to a conflagration! E'en so to love Doth absence prove: A little fire o'er-turning, But when the breast Love's flames invest, It sets them wildly burning. SONG. m :e. SONG. aire, ''-" apaga el Spanish Proverb. There's some one with the brightest eyes That ever love betrayed; There's some one with the sweetest smile That beauty e'er displayed, Whose image, wheresoe'er I be, Love ever brings to view, And who that some one is, fairest, I scarce need name to you. There is an anxious heart that knows A rapture it conceals. And longing waits the hour to speak The fullness which it feels. Its joy alone beneath that smile, 'Neath those sweet eyes of blue, And in whose breast it beats, sweet one, Oh, »eed I mzae to you? V Music and its Processes. MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. l?t Notwitlistanding the marvelous perfection to wliich music has bceca l>rt)uglit in all its branches, anil the very exhaustive treatises which have been writ- ten on the theories of the art, not to speak of the wonderful mastery which has been obtained over its technical difficulties, psychologically considered, the subject docs not appear to have received an e(|ual degree of attention other than in works too volumi- nous, if not too abstruse, for general reading. Our purpose in this paper will be to inquire briefly into the processes of the several factors in music as relates to their effect upon the listener; and if we can succeed in throwing some light on the subject for "thegreat majority," we shall not have labored in vain, even though we fail to " extend the horizon " of the more knowing few. In undertaking to offer an answer to the question, " How does music act upon its auditor to impart that pleasure which it so universally affords ? " it is ('39) 140 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. imoortantto have in mind two facts. First, that S ;" ure, in its aggregate, is a complex e^oUon romorising many simple emotions, which latter, t nryb suggested, consist of still other more subtle r finements of feeling. Thus our inquiry must be m^ o the nature of those primary factors in music and thdr processes which give rise to the indivulua emotions ; and if we can trace out these, we shal have gone far toward reaching an understanding of the subject presented. The second fact is that the high di tinguishing power of creative minds, in the a fs in general, is that faculty which enables them tfgo beyond personal experiences and to compre^ .end th/whole range of human e-tions of which we have the highest example in the ar of Shake peare). which faculty, as need scarcely be suggested, is the god-like attribute of genius. As all understand, among the arts, music akes a high place as an exponent of the emotions, which n^ deed was its primitive, as it has ever been its chief niTssion ; its first crude forms having been no more rhanthe spontaneous utterance of human feeling. And jus? here let us direct attention to the identi- ty and consequent immediate relation which exis between the inherent properties of music and hos of emotion, which need only to be -^n^oned to be at once recogni.ed.-pointed out by^ Dr. Haweis. in his able book, "Music and Morals. . ■r»' '• DCESSES. facts. First, that a complex emotion, ,ns, which latter, it 11 other more subtle r inquiry must be in- factors in music and 36 to the individual out these, we shall an understanding of cond fact is that the reative minds, in the which enables them nces and to compre- m emotions (of which n the art of Shakes- scarcely be suggested, lius. lie arts, music takes a he emotions, which in- as ever been its chief having been no more ce of human feeling, attention to the identi- 1 relation which exists ies of music and those to be mentioned to be d out by Dr. Haweis, I Morals." ^ MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 141 These properties, both in music and emotion, have been identified as velocity, intensity, complex- ity, elation and depression, which in the respective cases may be approximated as follows : IN MUSIC. Velocity by the several tempi employed, as vari- ous as are numerous the degrees in the range in- cluded within the terms largo and prestissimo. Intensity by the infinitely minute gradations pos- sible between the signs ppp and ///. Complexity by the countless subtly interwoven quantit'es of harmony worked upon the web of melody. Elation and Depression by the tones and their intervals, from the lowest to the highest pitch. in emotion. Velocity by successive impulses of feeling such as are experienced in situations which excite a series of emotions, following each other in various deg»ees of velocity. Intensity by the various degrees in which feel- ing sways us, ranging from the simplest emotion, which may be all but neutral, to the condition of highest excitability. , " ,42 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. Complexity by a concatenation of emotions, which succeed each other at a rate of velocity so great that even the " lightning of the mmd may scarcely distinguish where one state of feeling ceases and the next begins ; the appreciable result o wh>ch is the complete, complex sensation, or "complexity. Elation and Depression by the various states of feeling, ranging from the lowest despondency to the top-most heights of exultation. Thus are suggested corresponding planes be- tween music and emotion, and these will assist us in tracing out the processes by which one acts upon the other. . , , 4.1 As the primary, and consequently fundamental constituent of music, we consider melody first in or- der, and, secondly, its grand accessory and beauti- fier, harmony; for it is melody which serves m the art as the articulate voice medium of expression as relates to emotion, becoming, under the inspiration of the composer, the embodiment, so to speak of particular states of mind and feeling. By melody is of course understood the rhythmic progression of notes, as distinguished from the grouping of notes or harmony. . , - It may be safely premised that most of us who ' have reached the years of maturity have experienced all of what may be termed the fundamental human emotions, varying, of course, in intensity and conti^ nuity,with the susceptibility of the nature acted t: SES. of emotions, of velocity so the mind " may )f feeling ceases • result of which r "complexity." irarious states of jondency to the ing planes be- ; will assist us in one acts upon tly fundamental lelody first in or- ory and beauti- ;h serves in the af expression, as r the inspiration so to speak, of ig. By melody is c progression of uping of notes or most of us who have experienced idamental human tensity and conti- the nature acted MUSIC AND ITS P^.^^ESSES. 143 upon, and modified by attendant circumstances. Of these emotions, rising from time to time, those with which it is the peculiar province of music to deal do not always find commensurate expression, and this is particularly true of those tender sentiments with which music so continually employs itself, which emotions are afforded but partial expression, or lie voiceless within, ever ready to welcome op- portunity for expression. As it is true that the ma- jor portion of mankind have at least touched upon the fundamental emotions common to humanity, so, conversely, is it true that all human emotion has been given expression to through the respective me- dia of art by the master- workers therewith; and this may be said of music alone within the limitations of the art. Thus it follows that all who can place themselves in sy- '^thy with music (and who can- not?) may find t^> r. expression for the higher emotions of thu , . articulate though it be as compared with the ^.it of speech, while at the same time it is doubtless true that music serves as a medium of expression for deep-lying refinements of feeling, too subtle for the symbols of speech. It is not unusual to meet in the course of our read- ing, with a thought which we at once recognize as one which we have ourselves before known — in many instances, perhaps, in an equally positive form as that in which we find it preserved. It may be, how- ever, that we have not given it expression, or if at tammmamm>% 144 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 11 V, all, we have not uttered it with any special definite- ness. Some of the thoughts, however, which may thus be recognized have presented themselves so evanescently to our consciousness that we can hard- ly claim them as our own ; their outline only having passed before our mental vision without leaving any distinct impression, just as the prepared plate in the camera may be said to receive an imperfect outline only of an object if submitted to it but for an in- stant. Yet, again, we can conceive that there are still other thoughts in embryo which have only just reached the border lu^e of consciousness, as yet on the nether side, but the moment these come in con- tact with their related expression they become quickened into action, as the electric spark springs forth the moment the complete conductor touches its source ; up to that instant remaining motionless though living. In like manner we conceive it to be the case with feeling. From the most neutral to those most actively alive, are there emotions wait- ing upon expression ; their permanent, unfathoma- ble nature, making repeated expression ever welcome to them,— which, indeed, may be said, with more or less truth, of all emotion. Others have been but par- tially expressed, while again there are those (if we may be allowed to anticipate their existence) which like the thought in embryo, have not as yet taken their definite form, but which, when brought in con- ES. MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 145 Ecial definite- r, which may themselves so t we can hard- tie only having ut leaving any ed plate in the perfect outline »ut for an in- that there arc lave only just less, as yet on ; come in con- they become spark springs luctor touches ing motionless conceive it to nost neutral to smotions wait- nt, unfathoma- n ever welcome I, with more or e been but par- e those (if we :istence) which t as yet taken >rought in con- tact with their adequate conductor, become vivified and produce their corresponding sensation. May it not be that those nameless emotions which are experienced when we come under the influence of certain passages in the music of such magicians in the art as Beethoven, which we are unable satisfac- torily to fix or define to our understanding, belong to the class last named, which, undefined though they be, afford us a pleasure of a very positive, al- beit mysterious character. If the doctrine of metem- psychosis were admissible, these stranger emotions might be accounted for by supposing them to per- tain to some prior condition of existence ; emotions which such music as that named, alone, is capable of awakening or giving utterance to in this present existence. Admitting the theory that the master-workers in the art under consideration have comprehended all human feeling, and created therefor adequate chan- nels of expression, it follows that when we place our selves under the influence of the art, in the hands of the interpreter, the latent or active feeling responds thereto, affording that pleasurable sensation which the expression of emotion always yields. Let us apply our premises. In listening to a musi- cal composition, we recognize it as dealing with some given sentiment. Not, perhaps, apprehending the exact phase of the sentiment treated, but the funda- mental emotion to which it is related, and therefore I4i6 MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. one Which, accepting the hypothesis submitted, each auditor has already experienced in some degree - Lnce recognizes. Thus identified, our emotional nature responds thereto in various degrees in Lch individual as such of their several experiences as harmonize with the given sentiment vary-for as the composer colors the emotion interpreted with W own individuality, so does each audUor receive such interpretation in its application tohisownpar^ ticular experience ; and more or less intense as the emotional nature prevails in the case of each listen- "Shtmo'e, the efrect will, of course, be in pro- portion as the composer possesses a nature capa- We of feeling and power to adequately interpret through his art the given emotion. Each auditor thus recognizing (by the intuition of feeling rather than by any intellectual apprehension) in the given theme the expression of a more or less familiaTemotion, which, in the P-t-ular ca e rnay never have found adequate, or but partial utter- ance,the emotional being which, so to^P^f '^^^^"Z) bear ng the burden of the unuttered feehng, gladly welcomes and rests itself upon that expression making it its own. and thus is experienced that Tenslof satisfaction the ultimate of which we know *" Nlfonly 'is it true, as has been said, that all man- kind have experienced, in various degrees, the fun- ;s. MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. H7 bmitted, each me degree,— ur emotional 3 degrees in il experiences ; vary — for as erpreted with iiditor receive his own par- intense as the of each listen- rse, be in pro- i nature capa- ately interpret the intuition of apprehension) a more or less :ular case, may t partial utter- speak, has been 1 feeling, gladly hat expression, perienced that which we know id, that all man- egrees, the fun- damental feelings of our human nature, but it is also the fact that all have known something of the more exalted emotions,— such, for example, as those of the sublime, the heroic, and the like ; and it is more particularly true of these that in this mater- ialistic age they but seldom find exercise except that which may be termed the sympathetic expres- sion afforded when we come under the influence of art. Thus, such music as represents martial cadences, the pageantry of arms, or as relates to the more re- ligio-sublime, those grand choral-form progressions and magnificent passages, as in Oratorio, which we in- tuitively recognize as the utterance of emotion per- taining to the most exalted planes of feeling,— (t(j which the highest natures alone may attain), may bo said to awaken that profound sentiment which springs worshipfully from the apprehension of the divine conceptions presented in these grander crea. tions of the art, and afford an expression to the sub- limer emotions which elsewise for the most part they know not ; and the man or woman with but lit- tle of the religious or heroic in their nature, may by this agency be moved to a depth which no other in- fluence might ever reach. Under the influence of this class of music, which excites the heroic senti- ment, we feel that pleasure which a quickening of the nobler impulses of the soul affords, while in the lat- ter case, where the religious sentiment is brought 148 MUSIC AND nS I'ROCESSES. into action, the soul is subdued into a state of devc tion and repose, or exalted by the sentiment of rev- erence and adoration. Moreover, it is to be remembered, that this plea- sure is largely aided by the "association process," which contributes in an important degree to the pleasure experienced (as it does indeed in most pro- cesses of mind), industriously gathering about surh pleasurable feeling, as a given theme or passage may awaken, all experiences in consonance therewith, which add their coloring to the dominant emotion. Herein, then, seems to lie the primary source of the pleasure afforded by music: that it is an articu- late voice, whereby we may find more or less ade- quate expression for the deepest emotions which inhabit the unfathomable recesses of the soul. Over and beyond the delectation which is thus derived from what may be termed the soul of music, there is a supplementary pleasure afforded by the externr forms of melody. This clearly arises from the pc ception, in its numerous rhythmic designs an varying cadences, of the beauty of symmetry, pro- portion and the like thereby outlined before the mind, while at the same time, by the process of as- similation, may be suggested some of the multitu- dinous rhythms in the world of nature, or some other of its more sublime manifestations. And here again is the " association process " found occupying itself, calling up before the mind the scenes where ;s. MUSIC AND ITS PROCESSES. 149 state of devo- iment of rev- lat this plea- ion process," legree to the I in most pro- y about such : passage may ce therewith, ant emotion, ary toiuce of t is an articu- e or less ade- lotions which ;he soul. Over i thus derived f music, there )y the externr 1 from the pc designs an ymmetry, pro- ed before the process of as- if the multitu- iture, or some ons. And here lund occupying e scenes where such manifestations are known, thus giving rise to other simple emotions, each contributing its pleas- urable sensation; the aggregate of all being the " complex " or complete pleasure. Moreover, the external forms of melody delight us by their supplementary elaboration and embellish- ment, affording a pleasure very similar to, if indeed not identical with that experienced in contemplat- ing the graceful or fantastic designs of line and curve wrought into delicate arabesques and infinite forms of beauty in a sister art. Let us accept melody, then, as the prime source of that pleasure which music affords; not, of course, wishing to be understood that melody /ro- B to another; scintillating Uiant capari- tie sunlight — es of wonder losely inter- broadly ex- alden threads velvety rich- h are woven signs, and un- jeauty, giving phases of the lese harmonic ; consistently powerful con- interfusions of es may be said contemplating interblending in a fine sun- anse of water, or are cradled MUSIC AND ITS PROCKSSKS. 15" Into innumerable combinations of beauty. Tn this connection is recalled the thougiit suggested by the author already quoted, that the time may come when ingenuity will have devised instruments whereby color may be manipulated and expressed in rhythmic action and harmonic combinations, /. <■., symphonies in color, which shall impart the same pleasure through the sense of sight that we now de- rive from symphonies in sound. We have sought thus briefly to outline the view that the pleasure derived from music is chiefly pro- duced by its fundamental constituent, melody: I St. As furnishing an adequate medium of ex- pression to the most noble, most tender and conse- quently most demandful of human emotions; the importance of which service makes apparent the divineness of its mission. 2nd. By the countless designs of beauty presented to the mind in its various and ever varying forms. 3rd. By the rich ornamentation and embellish- ments it displays. 4th. By calling into action the " association pro- cess " which calls up before the mind that which diverts and delights, and Finally, that harmony, the grand auxiliary and beautifier of melody, contributes in a preeminent degree to heighten, and to create, the sum total of pleasure afforded, in the manner briefly indicated. ' ' J : :!;2S^ ' J%^.% T -yj^ ■ . i ,^ i ; ' jj,j)a, ;; ** '. ■j '- ik ' ^ '* ' ^ j^iwv?^ :^