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New ro'" 14*^09 uSA '•6} *8:' - :3u:. - P^of-e -'6) 288 - 5989 - fo« .^J='_-Ti'-V^ m Ai»THOR S. BOURINOT ^mU-1 NATIONAL LIBRARY ' BIBLIOTHtCiUE NATIONALE Offcrt par Estate of Arthur S. Bourinot .- — ^^1 -J~i.i i <'* umn a< **itM .*»*^ttam%tt%l^ ib..^*i#i#*v^'x> ^^j f„ I'l'M \I( 1\M s • m^^rr^y-** . ♦-* «>»«^4f Kt •«***« nvTMtrwiprtrrrTW rt*^j Tn- rrmrnn I IN AMBER LANDS POEMS By Tom Mclnnes American Edition BROADWAY PUBLISHING CO. NEW YORK AND B A L T I M O R F 835 Broadway 1722 N. Calven m «»«»l >i wtiiiH »t«> -'Jl'i 162032 Copyright, igio^ By TOM McINNES. fyw 1 » « »■ } »The Rhyme of Jacques VMbeau 43 /^ The Gardens of Tao 63 October 73 The Veteran 74 Coquitlam 75 That Other One 76 Hard Times No More 79 Mother 8t The Dream of the Deep 83 The Seer 86 The Butterfly 87 Nirvana 9' Illumined 9^ The Clue 97 ^dgar Allan Poe 98 ^Jlewild 99 JHie Jewel That Came IM -Nocturne '03 yThc Wanton Yacht 106 ^^vi^^ ,1: u*****^^ ^ ** * ^** , .^ ^- ^■■* CONTENTS. PAGE Farewell 108 ^^'lic Arbor Arabesque 1 10 ^'Jhe WroPK Way I16 Oil I'xacon Hill 121 O Catiatia 130 Tlic Chilcoot Pass 132 Cactus 140 To Walt Whitman 147 >4.oiie Wolf Lament 151 ^XZhinatown Chant 154 ' Red Lauf^luer 157 The Moonlit Wheat l6l Fey 164 In Amber Lands 169 Yolana 175 Underground 178 .Jill 186 /^ -Broken Days 191 y^ Content 197 The T mb 198 The Last Song 199 !*Mit*ft*MH'r>>t>*-r**«**««»4t*444«(t»»fr In Amber Lands THE WAY OF BEAUTY. Who brinj^s a thought of self to Beauty's shrine, Or jealous envy, by so much the less Shall feel within his soul her deep impress — Shall thrill at quaffinfj of her mystic wine. For Beauty hath no care for thine or mine, But wasteth wide in xvanton loveliness ; And only thus, in self-forgetfulness, Shall anv share with her the life divine. O happy he whose heart doth full respond To wandering; Beauty's spvll — wherever wrought! He hath a pleasure finer than all thought That instant as the touch of fairy wand Makes rich the World for him. whate'er his lot, — E'en tho' perchance a homeless vagabond. *«*MMMMUatt>**t« t it«M 8 IN AMBER LANDS AN INKLING. Thro' my uncertain heart a moody tide Of mere emotion evermore doth steal, Fleckt with shining passions that appeal For solace that is evermore denied. But as tlic waters that elusive <,dide Thro" lonely forests doubtful yet reveal Some Ocean faith— so unafraid I feel To test with Death this heart unsatisfied. And from that tide thro' late haphazard vears I've jiather'd cryslall'd words sometimes — like these : Things marvell'd out from many memories; — I'jicaimy songs, wherein withal one hears Some overtone of happier melodies. Or rhythm falling from enchanted spheres. >u*»f •%•••«»•«• »4«*wr« ,.»..iiMW>»f5 IX ami;ek lands LONESOME P.AR. I. Out of tlio Xnrtli there rriiT^ a rrv of Gdld » And all the -^paciniis rc.:;ioiis (if the West, I'mrn nii^.U*^'"' t'arihovi to where the crest (If Mexican Sierras mark the old l"ranci>ean frontiers, caught the re^^l sound, And echi'M and re-echo'd it, till round The ea;^er World the rnnior of it roHM : How I-"Morado once attain wa^ found Where -trttrli ( 'aiiadian ])lain^, forlorn aiul rude, Hard u])on the irt)n-tcmpcr'd Arctic solitude. II. Then woke the vanmiard of advctiturers. Who fret their --oiiN aL;ain-t tlie tranimel'd ways And ineasur'd hours of these exactinsj; davs; The\ heard the call — the jiiratc call that stirs To reach for ea-y ^old in re,t::ions new ; That once from lazy I.atin cities drew Pizarro and his pious plunderers, And. later, many a hnccancerinc;^ crew To ^ail their curly sliijis across the foam And loot the Spanish galleons upon llic run for liome. fmextat mmmmm^ lO I\ A.\li:i:U LANDS rii. So r.'ikc the annnl- r.f the knave Romance — 'riic lireul wiH nnt die (cit I 'llu- fatal stars That ^\\:i\ ih.' line of Ino-e Irrej^uilars ICrevernidfe 'nain^t hazard eircum-tance. lilnininM thm th' -r trij.k' ^"iMen years A trail of -plendid Imju- and t;liastly fears, W'lure (iiilv iidw Aiirora i,dearn'- a-kanrc ( )n the twinislinLr fm-ted hone's ni piimeer'^; iSut it'^ In! for -^axaiLje lands alii,dit with >i)oil — For ventinx-- L;rini and trea^ure-truve on a >tark, un- licard-uf soil I rv. And T went with the crowd who took the trail Over the irv Cliileoot; >ide bv side Who t!i",-:"d and toilM and topp'd the White Divide, Rafted it {<< Tauii-li. and -et ^ail Down the ra])ii! ^'nkon lone: hcforc The main rn>h reachM the mine^. ■Twa> no more To me than some mw t;ame Ti tiu Li t tM i iiiUUHumm »i ***»*<*^*9ft ' ix AMiW'R r.Axns II I-ocatincj claiin^ ; the lu't. nui-(|uit(>-ciirst Aii'l ~ciir\y (Ia\^ wi'iit cm|)i\ -handed by, Xi' niattrr what I'd do or v.hirc IM try; And (.'very day in I)a>^inL^ -t.cin'd tlic wor^t, I 'mil the la>t day fa the iiardi)an of e\[)erience ! Jn^t earning ent 1 had — *,nu know the wav : Snow-blind once, once frozen to the bone. While nui'^hini; with the mails between 'le creeks; Then tyiihoid laid me on my back delirious for weeks. VII. The river ice was breakinj^ in the Sprinj» When first 1 heard them tell of Lonesome Bar, — A hag.cfard region hidden in the far Blank reaches of the Xortli pa'^t reckoningf. But the Sun was warm apain, 'twa^; afternoon, And I was louni^inc; in the I.oc; .^.alocjn. Ready to tnrn my hand to anything:, \\ lien in two : trangcr, canic a iih a talc that soon -i:-''4 *?"' m mi 12 IX .\.mi;i:r i.axds Drew round the rc-tlcs- cro\v tiiidnij^ht. \(( tin- Northern sky I'>om the horizontal Sun was ail atlame. When with my cm])ty pack 1 sauntered down The one l<»n)^f tented street that made the town, Huntjry and >ii.k — -ick of a 'o>intj jjame. And hroke for tiie |)rice of a whiskey-straight to drown The rat:L,'ed tlioui,dits adimjiinij thro' my hrain — Till I -aw a crowd ami went hoide to hear what news again. XI. .And t!iere was a gaunt old ruffian, shaggy-brow'd, WIio on a l)arrcl. as far a- I coidd tell, Ranted in old way to hear him >.a\ , '( )ld hoy! ^'ou're ilown on your luck I see! Cuinc on up town. Where we can talk and have snmethint,' to cat, and sonicthiu}^ to wa-h it down!" XIII. 'Twas hkc the ■-udden diiiiinc,' of the Sun! The f1ower>i forgotten of old fellow-hip Went all ahloom aL,^■^iu, — there >;i.em'd to slip A weitjht of waited years and deed- ill-done IMumh down and out of my life, with chance to try The ujiward trail ;i!^aiti. where he and I Could venture yet tlie hit^hest to he won. Coi'.ld let the very thoufjht of failure die, And weave into our live<. from ravell'd ways, That cord of t^Mjld wc talk'd ahout in the far-off col- lege days. XIV. For Julien was a gentleman all through ; He stak'd me then, when I haliarc ntnl share alike. — And in a iiiotitii at Ldnc-oiuf liar 'twas rank'd the richest strike. XV. One day T left him workinq; on the claim, I had to huy siij)pli( „ down at the I?ar. When passint,' hv the » V « j«fc»v< - I6 IX AMBER LANDS XVII. For P.eulali ^tinv; a l)alla(l to mc then. Of pcrilou- tunc, -o ])nt to velvet rime, 'Twa-^ sure the kind tliat sirens in old time Sanf^ from tiic weedy rocks to sailor-men; And all the while her eyes >hone splendidly At somethinj^ far too fine for us to see ; Ihit oh! at endinij: of the hallad, when Those eves sank do\'. n to rt-t alone on me, Full well for one such j^lance of hers I knew Fd tip niv hat to her command for all that a mz may do. XVIII. And so cnamor'd on the instant cjrown. I s])ran,s: to meet her when the sont:; was done; She met me wondrou> kind ; then one hy one The otliers drew a-iile, while we. alone, Crush'd from the mi->nunts, in our eagerness, A wine of many year-^, as one would press Sudden the ripen'd |c;rape-. .\li ! we had known. In some strange way tliat I'm too oUl to guess, A dream of life hetween, 1 know not how, That link'd her alien soul to mine with a dream oi lasting vow ! XIX. You know how goes the custom of the Camp ; How swif; the wooing where the pace is set To live all in tiic hour— and then forget! . t ««v.«% IN AMBRR LANDS 17 a man ne; own. less, am out- l- et Tl'e initlnic^ht moon -lion'j pale, like an onyx lamp Ilunc^ in the amhiT tuilij^ht of the >ky. When we wont fnrth tdi^ether, she and T. And open'd yellow wine, who>e yellow stamp \\»m lii.iih aiJiiroval from the ra-cal> dry Who pledg'd us o'er and o'er, npon the chance To waste in regions barharous that vintage Oi old I'rance. XX. The fir-t ones of tlic North still tell of it: That was tlie tii^^ht the Lucky Swede made bold To liiii for r.eulah all her weii^ht in j:!;old ; And when, from mere caprice, my side she quit, And challenged him to make the offer cjood. With iron ])ans and a heam ami a chunk of wood A rouLjh-ainl-ready balance soon was fit. And the Swede brought uj) his gold where Beulah stood. And 'gainst her weight upon the other scale He piled his buckskin sacks, while I — saw red, but watch'd the sale. XXI. In all my life T never felt so broke; T'ut when the balance quiver'd cvenlv. She threw a kin the tojimost wave> of revelry The soul of lue was lifted cool and clean; Silent T felt the >urge of what had heen : Careless I weigh'd the evil yet to he : — Then Beulah's arms closed warm and v.hite be- tween. And I let go of all in her embrace. And for a time escaped from Time and the latitudes of Space. xxiir. And the la^t was a sen^e of sound — a trcmulo, So vagrant, sweet ami Inw. 'twas like the thin. Continual twinkling tune of a mandolin To mellow-tone.' guitars in Mexico. Where kners seek the i)laza by the sea ; And the foaming breakers phosphorescently Come rolling in bcneatli the moon as tbo' The influence of her yellow witchery IN AMBER LANDS 19 Into the purple darkness off the Main Had sunken, sunken, drunken down hke limitless champagne. XXIV. Slowly I woke. TIic last of t!ic stars had fled : Only beside me I'crlah murmur'd "Stay!" And ki-^'d nic. sleepy-eyed. lUit early day Chills all of that somehow; 1 tnrned instead, Thiiikinn;' to ka e her dreamin;,', I confess; Yet even in ti;. gray light her loveliness, .And certain drowsy dulcet wonl- -lie said, riiarni'd my I'.eart to lier- in a Inst caress — Chained if xcu like, and clinch'd with a parting smile — Yes — but what have you found in the round of the world so well worth while? XXV. Far up a valley, wliere the summe •-nil> Long ages thro' the L^lacial-drilt have roll'd, I work'd in gravel studded thick with gold For days and days on the double-shift that kills. Yet oft, to hear the echoes ring ami stir That vacant valley like a dulcimer, I flung her name aga'n>t the naked hills. .And crimson 'd all the air with thoughts of her; While 'mong the fair returning stars I'd see Pale i.'-anton.s of her chill, sweet face receding end- lessly, ^' **'***»it»»M*ttt**tH*%*taftm*»^**t — ; ■K ^^. 20 IN AMDER LANDS XXVI. Till I could stand the pull of it no more ; T, who as a fool knew every phase Of woman'- li.nhtcr love, and love's lij^ht ways, Had felt no passion like to this before. As the lost drunkard's lont^^intr at its worst, And keen as the craving of the opium-curst. Was the elcmentrd lust tliat overbore My very body till it gasp'd athirst, As one in some fierce desert 'lying dreams Of snowy peaks and valleys green with unavailing streams. xxvir. And Julien, good old Julien, knowing all, Pretended not to know, but said he guess'a That T had overwork 'd myself, and best Lay off a spell in town. Then I let fall My useless tools, and wash'd and got in trim For the long ten miles ahead. The trail was slim, And crawl'd at times 'gainst some sheer granite wall. Or lost itself 'mong boulders huge and grim; But dreaming of her T pick'd a buoyant way, Descending easy to the Bar at ending of the day. XXVIII. That region was abandon'd years ago. And T onrsnme Bar is to the wild again, Yet still it haimts me as I saw it then : — i IB- - :5r.' «4;^v-r .-«TiTPivr^rf;->f -11.-7I' •p"'! •-•^, _ y^ • rriM^ L\ AMBER LANDS ai Far up in the banncrM West a crimson glow. And a silver crescent on its e(lp;e aslant. With jewcIlM \'enus sinkintj jubilant Thro' (ipa! -paces of the vault below; Then qoblin rocks and waterfalls and ^cant Green tamarac around the white marquee Where Beulah lodq'd — and there was ending of the trail for me. 1^ XXIX. Kudintj of the trail — for she was there! '^.I['h-Iike 1 >aw her fissure thro' the haze de nt the t\\ilii,du and the camp-fire blaze; And the pincy odors passing thro' the air So pure I took for random kisses blown From her red mouth to mine, while yet unk-nown My whereal out: ; then wholly unaware I itcle upon her standing there alone. And sudden the was mine without appeal, And lip to lip .vithin my arms made all my fancies real. XXX. Shall I forjict the words sju- said to me? Xa\-. I bclicv'd tlieiu — I believe them yet! She told me how she dream'd that we had met Where dreams are true ; and then how endlessly, I-ike some lost dove, she roamed this evil world Seeking for me : how now her winjrs were furl'd, And I should bide with her. till I should see 22 IX AMBER LANDS This whitest secret in her soul impcarlM : And lier '•ont^s were all for me. I heard her say, — For me, for mc and only me, forever and a day ! XXXI. Then pass' , the last good hours I ever knew; I lit my pipe, sat on a log. and look'd At her and her neat hands that neatly cook'd A supptr hot and homely— just for two; And out in Cod'- clean air. he-idc the fire. Where comrade ways but strcn^thcnM Love's d( sire. We ma on. '"Speech. .Mac. -pCLcli '" They cried, a? up the aisle they rush'd to reach Where Beulah .-toed, confused. "It's IiLllfire Mac!" I \^•hi^pcr'd her, "and he's drunk and wants to preach I" "W'h.'it I why, -ure — whoever he is — come, dear. That ht- nic off tor a while, you know; come on — conic on in here! youns XXXIV. aid: ir. nce-hall And laughinc: --oftly she drew me aside Into a rouc'i alcove, her drcssin.c: room, Curtain'd from the stage, and half in gloom. When at a sound hir eves 'gan ^tarin^ wide. And she clutch'd my arm. Twas iu*t the pious drone. But a fear.-ome something in the undertone Of the ruin'd Cnlvini-t. whose sr-nl c-iiied Damnation tonpHiig from the great White Throne I''pon t!-e w(K'f;il habiters of Farth, That somehow check 'd the crowd that night, and still'd its shallow mirth. I il .*«*MIM4> 24 IN' ami5i:r i.axds XNXV. And Bculali, ninrc than all like one cnthrnllM. Smotlicr'fl a moan, and diiinhly nicMioniiij^ I"or nic to follow, croj)t into t!ic win^j Close lip to hiiii. Hcardcd. j^ray and l)aM. \\ itii eyes Mink .t,'l«'aininL.' under l>eofIin- diaj,', And face rousli-chiHl'd likr a si^ranit" cra^. Tie tower'd above us all; hut s ncfer seen before: Ha. ta Mac an Diaoul !— ta Eei.-hra-Mor I For wlien she moved .he made ta mountains quake, And all ta water.s of ta oceans roll In frij^htnet waves from Pole to frozen Pole; While efcrmore her starving,' bodyM ache So bitterly ta pain she couldna thole, r-iit twiMit round and round, till ^he wa. eurl'd In endless coils of blastit flesh about ta blastit World. XXXVII. "For in those dav^ she wass ta only thin?; There wass no man nor w oman left at all ; IX a.mi;i:r lands as No fish to swim, no hi a-t to run or crawl, No hirrl nnr Iinttfilly \i -iircad it- winpf; Around ta W'orM licr-ilf was> all aloin'. For all that cfrr lived to her had cjrown ; And Winter, tiiat would m •'' riiiore he Sprinj^, Xow plowert silent oft r efery zon. : Then liftit she her head into ta -ky To spit ta last great hla-phcniy into God'= face — and die. XXWllI. "Dut oh' ta silence of ta endle-s Sky — And oil! ta liIackiKs- if fa en-lle-s Xi^^du I Where all ta siar- can nefer make it li^ht — Where in ta empt\, like a Defd's eye, Ta eerie Sun. i^rown sinall and smooth and cold, Stared down upon Ikt doom ordain'd of old I And she torment — and she cor.ldna tell tor why — With a,';onies in every qrakinc; fold. Where only flowit i)oi.-on streams for hlood : And still she liissM and spit and cur^t — and itill there wass no God ! XXXIX. "P>ut at ta last she felt ta power to make Ta j^reat escape, and tliii h all In r hurt; Ta Spirit moved her. and lur hocp- i^irt Its straininq; coil- imtil ta Worl 1 -lu' l.'rake To splinter'd rocks that ground and cra-h'd and roar'd. While all ta inner fires reek'd nn and nonr'd m I mtsttmummm 26 IN AMBRR LANDS In fury routifl ta universal Snake — Omsiunint; in ta vengeance of ta Lord!" \Vc noMT iKard tin- iiicaiiiii^ of his «lrcain, For sudden thro' the ])uilthng ran^' a wild hysteric scream. XL. And Beulah sprincrinc; frenzied to the stage, And the oUl mnn haltinc^ face to face w'th her, Too swift an 1 tran'ro for any tlu\atrc Follnw'd a -rcne \vhnonnK. suhUnic. UntramnKlM day: when GikI lore-athcred u~! Mv ■•rinan fti!!~c'ro\vn ^trnn^'c!;- perilous I All in a memoir, r.iarr'd 'vith .-carlct crime, And loet before '."nine eye? increthilou> ! Mv wntii.-m vtill— tlio' [ i^o hahiilini,'. dazed At thought of luT an.l her fathir damn'd. aihl a Hell of thill};- ;;>'ne crazed! XI. III. How since th;it hour a-aiii and yet n'^MU I've |)lav"d ih: fi'"l \\'''~h D.atl' ! ' ',., let hitn take What -hapc he i !'■ a c. I'll ■.v:<'t v.idc awake. And k?cr a date ^ ith hin— no nvitter when! >dad I tell • oil — mad. I've lar.ehcd to hear In Winicrtimc the mad gray-wolvej draw near And circle rniind me. all unarm'd — and tlun. Snai)j)in^' thnr teeth, ^-linlc back and IkuvI with fear: Cod Knows of what! Sn qiu er it seeni'd. alnm-t I think thev saw he-ide me there old Helltire's drunken ghost ! f> WAX. Lonesome Bar! To(j far— too far and old The hollow sound of it now comes to me O QUlCKCn lul6 biCK near*, iiiai ;.:a.^;:jr *iitiiit>m «•»«.«».«. ^^l 28 IN AMr.i:R LA A us Goc<; UircliiriK on tn ivcrIa>-tinK coM! I'ill up my .ula-- ! What i;anio havr I to play I'.ut drink into {\n< drt-ar, indilTncnt (Ia\ SfitiiL- liritf (Iclirintn. wherein to liold A jjliantuni floatin;,' ^'oldenly away lUyopfl tlu' /cnitli of niy --on! a- iiriglit Aiiiora v/ith her dreanihght haunts the hopeless Arctic night ! IN AMBER rANDS IN ERRANTRY. Because I'm drunken with unknown nectars. From ways made over-strait I turn; in sooth My heart is only half inclin'd to truth Of learned scrolls and saintly calendars: Bald Science misses, and Religion mars What I have found, tho' bluntlcring and uncouth, For I was wronged with V\ onder in my youth, Aad dazed with visions of forbidden Stars. I was a minstrel boy in errantry Roving the mossy ways of old Romance In chase of Beauty, whose elusive glance Thro' hapless ventures lured me brokenly: But now of her I've had such great joyance That this dour World shall never sober Jic. IT •«M«*«M«t- 30 IN AMBER LANDS THE VAMPIRE. Pakt I. I. Like as a dream it came to me In tlic lap>e of a lonely year ; In the shade of night I saw the shade Of a shrouded maid appear; And drawing nigh it leaned o'er me, And whisper'd in my car : II. "Cold— colu ' I come from the ghastly cold ! Where the dead are ever dying Alone in the ghastly cold I" in. And then, a^ if an agony Constrain'd that grr^some haze. Its words come forth in hollow sighs, The while its eyes did blaze Pale lightnings to mv own, now fix'd In i,,,i.^i-,.— -1:-. ■'f iiiic .iiii; IX AMBKR LAXDS 31 IV. "I ain a starvclint; out of Hell. A wrailli f it lit my <>\\n anew, Thi- thinL,' i- true 1 trl! ; And t'u' iicatinLT of ili\ heart it was That !uo-'d nie out of Hell. "For out of ti;e -leep I cannot sleep Thy -onl ua- r.ms'd au'ain ; And thy hody wa^ wrnui;ht to the same fair mould .As when of (il lain Within the (.lu>t awa\ from mc — The hody that I had >lain. VII. "O hlack the nii^ht that swallowM me When out of the World I fell! Out of the Worhl. and deep eiitomb'd, I fouml me do^ni'd to d\v!;!l \\'here Time i- still and Horror stares On each — immovable. I >«arM<'MM 32 IX AM r.F.R LANDS \ III. 'Told— cold! Alone in the i^l;a>tly cold ! Where the dead are ever dvint^ Alone in the c^ha>tly cold ! IX. "Nay. li'-ten! T heard like far-nfT -nunds Swav down thro' the lees of crime; And ijohlen was their echoins:;-. They seeni'd to rint.,^ a chime Or words I said — of love I felt — Long since — in the other time. "And cchointj they took a shape. And circled round and round As air\. elemental elve--. Then joined them-elves and wound In wrcathintx ether over mo, And with a crystal sound XI. "The circle touch'd complete and flash'd And vanish'd suddenly: And Time heoran attain — I foimd Myself unhound and free — Free of the ■-ilent Horror there That stared and -tared at me. IN AMIiKR LANDS 33 XII. "Anfl I was in the outer night, And I 'ioufjht and found thee here; I saw thy t>ody from afar As a hving star appear, And fain to drink and sUmibcr in Its crimson atmosphere — " XIII. No other word came auchhle, The siiade '.^an witheringf, As to my cold and sliuddering' side Jt vainly tried to clinc;; Then drifted slow away from me, A wastint^, wistful thing. XIV. Until in tlie ec-i? light at last I saw it fadf' and seem To sink as it were thro' an ancient grave, And sinking it gave a scream ; And I awoke and tried to think 'Twas but a passing dream. XV. Cold— cold ! And are the dead so cold? And are they ever dying Alone in the ghastlv cold? 34 IN AMBEf^ LAXDS Part II. That dream came not aj^ain to me, Xor .'iny dream at all ; Dut \\i II I knew, as the- days went past, TIuTf Ii(.Id 1110 fa-t in thrall A s()incthinluin mc then; I felt accurst, and kept apart, And souj^ht them n. <{ ag-ain. in. riut n how chill the World did i,rrow ! Aiul the .'^un. as a thint^ unreal. Did -ilare and .^[lare thro' the vacant day, Ani), for I wa- dumb. 35 And yet were times all faintly tinged With a j^limmeriui^f ecstasy; Moments that lintier'd in their flight, Trailing a light to me Elusive and wan as the phosphor foam That floats on the midnight sea. VI. And out of my stricken lx)dy then My soul would -ecm to creep, And over a sheer unfathom'd brink Of silence ^iuk asleep, r.eyond the shadow and -ound of dreams, And deeper than Earth is deep. VII. Yet ever from those slumber spells. That seem'd like years. I'd start Sudden awake, bewilder'd by A presence nigh my heart, As if a ^oul had ^^tirr'd in me T«".* ~<^ — - - * i: 36 IX AMBKR LANDS \iii. And so three scasoii> j)a^>'(l away, And tlu- early Summer came; And '•till that weird fantasy Kn^hrniided me the same; But now it ^eem'd as luminous Witli some alchemic flame. IX. At length in a garden wide and old, A garden all my own. One afternoon I lav at ca-e Under the trees alone. While tlie fragrant day fell off in the West Lik(> •> Titan rose o'erhlown. X. And lying there T drcam'd once more, And it seemed that a -earlet hird Fl?w out of my heart with a joyons cry, To the tojjmost >~kv. and I heard Iler song come echoing down to me. Yearning word on word : XI. "Slow — slow ! O moments — f) ages slow! But love shall ho my own again — Be it moments or ages slow !" ^SltSHlHtiEMii H IN AMBER LANDS 37 Part III. I. I wakcnM in the t\vi!ig[lit wit'. A fever at ni\ brain ; All iny veins were runninc: fire With hHn»< desire and pain Of somethinj^ that three reasons long Within my heart had Iain. II. So cruel that first I heeded not A faint, allurinj^ tune. Trilling round me everywhere In the jeweird air of June, As far and wide o'er tlie darkling sky The crystal stars were strewn. m. Till over the rim of the World uprose The slow round Moon, And a voice from the inner garden came That hreath'd my name, and soon Floated full out on the waving air Trolling a golden croon : 38 I\ AMI5KR LANDS IV. "Low — low ! The Moiiii lies low ! O I.o\(.'I ni\ I <)\i'— conic I'lve nic Wliilc the M-.un lies low!" V. T(i the inner parden fa-t T i^pcM I i!i I came to tiie inninvt tree; () the jxace nf a thM^^an(l years I'd tjivc Aj^ain to live ami -ee The iiallitl maid of tlii' white, while arms Who there awaited ine ! VI. But I have not the word- to tell The marvel of that try>t: Yet 'twas no jiliantom I did woo — A virt^in true I ki-^'d. With lips full red. and eyc^ abloom With peerless amethyst, VII. And l>r,dy lined and shapen to The last of love"< delij^ht ; I heard her whisjier: "I am thine. And thon art mine. to-nii;ht !" And she \(h)>'<\ the sjher zone tliat bound Her garments blue and while. 'if • - V«i**»i« J^lt'ftt^-^^'^'-^'-^'TJfeHffl^H^^'^^^i L\ AMDLR LAXDS 39 VIII. "Low— low ! The Moon lies low ! And inv Iilence Low my name ! n II. "With that sound there comes to me A feeling lit with memory Of regions lost and times o'erlaid, And love forgot. ; ^1 III. "Take me, O dream-laden bride ! To the rapture oi thy side, In this bower of unrevealing Velvet gloom. 1 1 40 IN ami:i:k lands IV. "Lnnp, my l)caiitifiil. \'\v waited I'vr tlii> rhariiud niu'lit — tlii^ fated Hour that \i(Ms tlicc iij) to inc i'"rom vcar> unkiiuwn. "Now sliall l)C iinvcil'd to me All thy niai(kn --Miimctry. Seen hkc naked moonlit marble, I'urc and pale. VI. "Till no more tlion can' burns and sears: But 1 it was who let her pass Tu the peace of a thousand years UL Slow- slow! O moments — (J ages slow I hul love shall be my own again — Be It moments or a^es slow t fTH'i ifky^i «-k*^-« JX A.MIll.R LANDS 43 THH Riiv.Mi;()i- I \((ji |.:s \ ai.hkau. 1. ('no Auf,ni.t aftiriiM, ,11 I ..iw, SonifulKTi- I'aik (ii < tttawa, Anx.ii^' t!ie oldist hill,. A Noiini; ami nv>A alluring' -'jnaw, T()j4i,'M in a liuck-kiii petticoat. With hiick-kiii triii^^c ainl friiU: CataiiK lint claw, ucro at \wr tiir.iat. l"i\t on a cat^jnt ^trint^ W'itli copprr J)faiU and colorM (juills. — <• die uav the on ilio>t' hills I hro" the j^ohku An.t;uvt da\vti>: I-"or the re-t-thc -tuili^ht j^lcam'd < )n hna-ts and arm- and ley, tliat -cem'd Mouldid hrounlv out of hrcinzc: SIiapil\-, -Iindcr. ddionairc. I'roni Ik'I coils of hlni -black hair To li.T dainty moccasins: And I nut lior, for inv sins, Sonu'whcrc hack of Ottawa, Amon^ the oldest liills. II. I.onp: aj2fo in the earlies A Frenchman lived in France; Gaunt he was like an eagle. 44 IV AMi R LANDS M With an evil ca;^' i,'lancc : One tyc wa> Mack and one was blue, And the Mack (mic look'd strai^lit into you, While the l)lue one Icer'd askance, Movt >int'nlly in Paris. But it \va> wi-er not to try To hiiider him or harass, Bi:t quietly to pass him by. In the -infnl >lreet> of Paris; I'or h'.^ anil was ^tronf^, and his sword was long, And when he made sword-i)lays, 'Twas hard to Icjok him in the eye. Because he look'd two ways; The black one look'd straight into you. And the blue one where he'd pink you through, And that wa> a trick entirely new To people then in Paris. () he had small fears of the musketeers (V the macaroons of Paris! And he had his timr, and he made most free. And he lived in j:;reat ribalderie, in the sinful streets of Paris; But at last those evil eyes in his head On whom they fell, or x) 'tis said. Brought ^ueh annoy and harass. That when Kin:^ Louis heard of it, He order'd him from Paris: Yes; not for tlu' evil life h" led. Nor the way. that he walk'd unfit. But for those two evil e\es in his head, They press'd him out of Paris. IN AMBER LANDS 45 III. Twas long ago in the earlier, And he thought to take a cliance For fortune in the fur trade, So he sail'd away from Irance. In a crooked ship, with a crooked deck. That sprang a leak and went to wreck Five hundred miles from our Quebec, At the mouth of our Saint La\vrence, How then he fared I do not know, 'Twas long ago. but this is so. That up the river, paddhng slow. Half starv'd, at le ipth he reach'd Quebec, And told his talc of dismal wreck.— His name was Jacques X'albeau. Now in those days in our Quebec Nigh all the folk were pious. And when they saw his one black eye. With the blue one on the bias. They cro-^s'd themselves, and wishM the rogue Had drown'd 'tween there and Paris. Yet money is made in the fur trade, When others bunt the fur. And some thought be>t that they should test This lank advcnti'.rer ; And so they oflFer'd to subscribe Enough to outfit and equip Jacques \'albeau for a Imntinn- trip With some of the Huro^ tribe. Ij 46 IX .\.Mlii:R LANDS Thus tlid he j^n, thi~ Jacciucs \ alboau, And for many day-, lir studied tlu- ways And tilt wurdh el llic llurun tribe. I fM^ i, d.i IV. Yes; money is made in tlie fur trade W'lien otiicrs Iniiit the fur, lint brandy to ihr Inchans If \()u want thr lu'-t nf fur, And c'verytliini; el-c they have to show; 'Tis a law ymi know, ami Jacques X'albeau Was it^ di>coverer. So for man\ rhiy- he oun,i; >-;invai,'esse. Left with tile Lady Priuros To learn to sew, and cook nice food, And tell her iiead-. and to confess, And otherwise he j:;:ood. But Jacques \alheau, that Jaccjues \'albeau. He signall'd her so well In forest ways she understood, That just at vesper hell Of that same eveninjr long ago She slipt away into the wood: — O wicked Jacques \albeau ! 47 V. So Jacques took to the wilderness, The first coureur-de-bois. And with him went that Indian girl, Whose convent name was Lottila — With the accent on the aw. I have heard !ier other name, but now I will not try to tell it, Because I can't, and 'cause there are !*« w> -i.- i . 48 IX AMl'.F.R LANDS :'yi:s^\^- I! No letters that will spell it. Rut oh. 'twas the j^'kkI. ^o(h\ time they had Thro' the wood^ in the summer weather! IIuntiufT aii.l fi-IiiiiL,^ ami trading in furs, Ami tluy were >o rich together, Until one night as they lay asleep. Where the moss \va> gnnving thick auu deep, T.ain'-t the trunk of a fallen tree. The lrn(|uc)i- Indians silently Regan to creep and creep In a closing circle where they lay. Till scarce they were more than three yards away. Then a Iwig did snap with a warning crack; Up sprang that valiant rover. Jaci|ues. All in an instant wide awake. And three of those Irofiuoi> heads did hreak P.efore tliey had him down. Alack! They tied his liands hehind his back And fixt him to a stake; And his bottles of Jamaica rum They diank till they were drunk. And while the squaws began tn plunk With rattly sticks on the big tum-tum (That's a sort of Indian drum). The braves did time and music make With yells and grunts and squawks. And danced around him at that stake, \\ ith ]xiinti d cheek and horr"ble head. And pine-kiU't t irchcs burning red. And ugly tomahawk-; And told him how his scalp the\ 'd take. [n . IN AMBER LAXDS And otherwise keep him awake Until the bIe>H^I day >IioiiId break, Then cut him into blocks. And finally his body bake. When sure that it no more could ache, And eat his licart when he wa^ dead. ' Of these details, perhaps. I've said Too mucli— the subject .shocks. 49 VI. But so it is, and so it is. And one can never ' II ; For on \'albeau the flesli did sizz, And he bej^Mn to yell. When the Devil, niovinq; mic^Iitily Somewhere down in Hell. Did cause a terriiile earth()uake. And all of ("anaixtcen ^ixtv-threc. And it's all set out in iii-torv.) But Jacques \'albeau >tood swarthily. And desperate at the stake, And called the Devil to his aid. Whi'e all the Indians, dismav'd. Took to their naked knees and pray'd. And the j^round kept Iuavin<4 hcavilv. Yes. all took to tluir knees and pray'd, But Lottila, the little squaw. -i! 11 I II so TX AMr.F.R LANDS Who, with no thcnislit luit her lover's hfe, Cut thro" his thon-> with a ^calpinji^ knife, While the un.nnd kept heavinjj heavily. And then wa> that threat harj^ain made As Jacfnu- \'all)cau stood swarthily; He call'd the Devil to his aid. And the Devil, movinjr inif:;htily Somewhere down in Mell, Roar'd re])ly. so I am told. That Jao(|iK'S \alheavi, the overhold, And I.otlila a^ well. If they would do his will alway. Should laui;h at Time and never jT;row old, And none sh(.uld lunder them or check, Whether at work or whetlur at play, Free to come and free to ^o Thro' all the Province of Quebec And the borders of Ontario — Down to the Juilt^ment Day ! VII. I' i I! I Then Jacques \'albcau and Lottila, So the Iro(|Uois declare (And I have cause to think 'tis true), While others crouch'd all in despair, ]''o11owM a hall of tire that ran Down to the river iicar St. Anne, Till it -t('i,t by a bi_t^ canoe; And 1 <>ttil,\ six- fainted there. And fell in that big canoe. -'J»W41( IX AMBER LANDS And Jacqiic>. half ilcad. ho fell there, too. Then it ru^e of it -elf in tlie spectral air, An.l far out of MjL,'iit it tiew. ]\o\\ lonij it ua> tliey lu'ver knew. It may have l)een days, I,ut Jacques came to. And found tluy wen «ti'! in the- hi.<,r cano.'. Iloverinp over a l;in(Nr;i]if fair. Late in the aftrrno'.n. And it tloatfd aiinle-s, here and there, lUit Jac(|t:es \'al!.raii had readv wit. And he >at and con-iderM the matter a bit. Till with a paddle >a^,L:'d outwardly ; It sccni'd r-onie inon>trou> ancient thinp^ Croucliin'jf wearilw lUit on its siininiit they did lij^ht. And make their camp there for the nifjht; In later hanty crew. They >aw him I)a^■^ in that canoe. Piercins>; the clouds with awful speed, — Let that be a les.-on to you ! VIII. ii li It f I So thus that Aui;u>t afternoon, Ainoni^ tlujse haiuited hill>. I met that young hedevill'd >qua\v. The luring, li^>ome l.ottila. Minding her whi>key stills. And truly I was glad I met her. Yet I am shy. and xiiiietimes nervous. And I wonder'd what excuse would serve us To know each other hetter; Rut lifting my hat to the brown young maid, She sniil'.d straight at me, unafraid, And jire-ently began To siHiik' witli pretty words that ran Thro' EnL;lidi. l-'rencb pud Indian. — It was a l(i\^ly jargon: Put she ^aid nn Nvord of Jacques X'albcait, Who with the Devil, long ago. Made such a -pKndid bargain; So bow was Kiiov,- IX A.\ir.l£R LANDS Now it's sometinus sweet to he iiuli>creet, As for mc I am never wi^e; So we sat Us down mi the warm, dry sod, 'Mid lirown f^ra^s and -nMcn rod. W'atcliini; tlie liiitn tlii>. And ^hc talkd .ind i.iH.d. a i h. Id lur liaiid. And ulitn I cunid nnt midfr lanil 1 lookM down diep into Ikt eye>. Perhap- the tiniii^' -i)ijnd:^ -ill"-, Hut t'link of tlic i!i:turL that -he made, Array'd hke a ti,^'erdil;. : Her body hrr.vn an ! quivering In that rcvfahni,' jKtticoat. With catamount-claws at her fine throat Fixt on a cati^^ut .-trinj:^; And the cojiper bead- and cnlor'd quills, Ju.it that and her dainty moccar-ins, — O ^hc was the dreamliest thing! And I met her, for my sins, Somewhere back of Ottawa, Among the oldest hills. 53 ii IX. The sun was slipping do»vn the sky, Close to the crrecn horizon. When sudden T saw the fairicst .-iglit That ever I set mv eves on : A yellow canoe, with three of a crew, .Almost too fat tn follow. Straight out of the sky to the hilltop nigh, i 54 I\ AMI'-KR l.ANUS i ■f ii Came ^ki:ninin^' .-iloii},' like a swallow, And then to tin- calin. rij^'lit Iji'Iow. It '-lid with a nioti-m easy and slow, And a man Mcjit r.iit— alriadv \ blue i>nc UrrM a^kanre ; Tlu- fr'iiit <;ir~c and lil.uk. Like tl'.o tail nf a Imr^c that i~ ilcckf. Yet he ha'i a ver\ enL:ai,Mrit;; vimlc. And I liked the way t! at he talk'd. He uas vtrai'dit a- an arrow uIkii iir walk'd, And. after a little while. I thoue'U him a hand-ome man — almost. And really f|i'itc a (Klicihtful ho>t. He intrndnced the otlnr two Who rode with him in the biq^ canoe. ' 'ne was a fat little c. nnitry i^irl, With carrot) h.iir in a towsellM curl, Her dolly eye^ had tear- at the rim. And her face was pale a- milk that is skim, And she was a -ad little girl. The other giu'-t was a -hantyman, Half drunk by the looks of him; Rut the fhantvmati ^^ a- an Irishman, And that i- cno-.tgh for hiin. Thfrt Lotti^a and the countrv j-ir! 1\ AMiiLK LANDS 55 Left us and • .tit h> tlit- upper Caljin above the ulii^kcy still, To set tlie tabic lor supper, While we -at down in the red sunlight, And listened to Jacques; X'albeai A.s he told pr()diL,Mnu> stories Of two hundred years ago, Ht all the old coureurs-dc-bois Dea it \\a^ until I found \Vf Vvcre tin more r.pon the s^round. Xow I at tin)i^ ;im vxtrcmcK lu rvnus, As I i-aid before, and whtn I found How that hewitcli'd c.moc (hd -wi-rvc us [']) and away from tlu- ^ohd s^'rouml. With tlie hill- a-sinkiiiL: all aromnl. And we once more in the cop|,rr t^lim Of the Stin wc jo-t -omcwhilv hoforc, (>h, then, ind' rd. I thout,'Iit -mall lijamc To the friL;ht(n"(l j^drl with tlie touscll'd curl, .And dolly eyi- with tear- ;>t tic rim. .\nd f.'icc all |;alr a-^ mi'.k that is skim — I'll Ix't that iir.' "V u wa- the '^amc! Tint the ^Iiantymnn was toa drunk, I think. To know where we were — it's a beastly shame The way those Iri-h drink. i: XI. Xo\v remember aviation l~)itftT- (luite from naviLration, For ;d\\a\s iti the water (">f the ri\er that von ride in. Or be it -mnoth or ripply. A canoe is vcrv tintjjv. t V i 1 f I IX AMHKR L.WUS And steadily you kneel. P.iit thriiiitjh the air you j,'lide in A tashifin that yun feel It's a mefhiun to confidr in, And yoti needn't keep a keel. — That much I ^a\v at a plancc. And tho' Tin not Mift'iciently wise To make it clear. \t)ii cant capsize So lonj? as you properly balance, r)r ri^e hy kvitatioii. Now, tliat\ why aviation Differs quite from nnvipfation, And 1 had hcj^nm to fit.! easy ap:ain, And ready to take a chance. When all of a -tuMen it >-tartifl to rain KijLjht over our head-, and there was a growl C)f thunder far down in t!ie We-t. Then the Sun went out, atid the wind 'c:an howl, And a storm came boundinc; alonpr on the crest Of the massy clouds, i^^rown -niphurous. And there v.;!.- the blue zic^-zac: and flash Of lightnintj, follow'd by in-tant crash Of the thimder ncnrinc; w^. With that X'alluau bej:::an to sine;', Wiiile Lottila di'l sway ami swing Her brown arms jierilous; Cai fnhii'ou fiihircttr. Cull falurnii doudc! I did the same but trcmblinplv. And the Indian girl did grin w it!i glee 57 m ;8 IX AMlii:R LANDS With her fact in her hand^ and her heacl on my knee, r.ut the >li,nitMii in -till lav drunk, So how i-nul(l I put her away? It was all -^11 iliaractcristic ! Cai fiihirni! t.-Jurcttc, Cai fahirnu dondc! Xow. it'.s all very fine to ^incr that way When everythint;^ eUe i- rii^ht. Piut we sailed straiidit into a loaded cUuid, So \ i'l:;i;i(m-, nnarohi-t'o It lian;;M like Idii- of (!\ ■.iiuile : — I'l'V ;i tiniv 1 w.i- Ii!;nil wilh tlir awfrl li'^Iit, Ami (Kaf with the awful r^ar : I felt we v.ere hlnwn clean mU of si.Ljlit, An I then I filt we had -nnk 'I'll the h(ittr)mlc-.> pit fur evermore; Fhit the 'hantymin -till !a\ dnni'-. It niake? me shiver to think of it now, Put after a hit I rallied somehow. \ allieaii was la'i' Iiin^: at the l;o\v, \n I lie hent far hack to ->pcak : "!!i>l;'i. nionsienr ; enninient ca va ''"* i"i kee|) my face with I.ottila. I nianat^ed ju>t to vfanimer : "lUilI;. . X'alheau — c'cst maj^nifiqiie ! I'lr.t i^o where the clouds are calmer!" XII. \'.'e wore '.:p in a con!, tweet air. Under a wonderful =k->-. \'elvety dark and richly sown IN AMLiHR LAXDS With woHflcrfnl star> trom zone to zone, And all of thcin >toni' raw. l"i>r niv In art \\a all tw I.uttila. f'.iit I ki: cd !l!L' Mtlur ,c;irl. N(n\- it'.- a urli. hla-t tliat Tridi pup! He woke and cauf^ht u- in the act. Jii-t at the moment our lip'- had smackt, :\ni\ he went for ive. hcll-hcnt ; I < t out from hi^ tic^ly throat a yell, Ti.ld Lottila jubt what he saw\ And — before I had time to explain, r>r arptic. aq^ain't the fact — '(hat fact <(> apparently plain — They hnth made at me ■^o sava{;e I fell Without a ch.inee to prepare! ■^"•l ' t\Il. and I fell, and I fill -my Lord! It'- the awfule-t fcil to fall .uerhoard hrom a canoe a\\a\ up in the air: It's really too swift to describe or tell, KXs-i I ' 3r*<« t c i. «fcr4 ««-rHi&n w^vtk-w^jaiAxwnarKKiiM IN AMBER LANDS 6i But first yon feci you're (lut oi it. And then you tVvI a tliunip. And after that you're fjciicrally A mo-t unl()vcl\ lump. But in my ca-c 'twas different. My body was cau.i,dit by a wind current, And it drove me --idcuays on. With a muffled whack, 'j^ainst a bit,^ haystack, And r tumbled it over and lay on my back I'nconscious till the dawn, And so flat. Hat. flat. That wlien F arose in miscr\-. A lone: time after that. 'Twa- hard to remember where I was at. And I vin-l,',] hic,Mibriously. With mv body m) -tiff and my head so sore, It couldn't have hurt me any more If I'd been out all nig^it on a sj)rec — Gee! XIV. But now. O fat and bulbous friend, Bibulatc and let me end This tale ere I bej,nn to Tell other things irrelevant Of venturintrs extravairant And m\stery and -in. too: For I've had my time in every clime The Lord has led me into : — Altho' I'd rather not recall Some places that I've been tor — ' t!! :i11 m 62 IX AMr.i:R LANDS I5ut ^'iw 111C Aiiq^n-t. after all, If I he free t'> rnam and loll Ainon^f tliii-c tiL:cr-li!y liill> Hack of ( )ttav,a. I am ready to ri-k whatever hefal To meet once more that little ^(juaw, The lurin;^:, li-'-omc Lottila. Mindiiii^ lier whi-key still-: To listen a^ain to her |)ntt\ ])atoi-.. And hold her hand and hear her ^ins:^ AnumL,^ tho^e tiL;er-liIv hilN. I'nr she was the dreaniliest thini;! (lai tohi It'll l\ilv.i\-tt:, — I think I hear hrr vet. Out there, in hir hnckskin petticoat. With catamount claws at her line tliroat, Fixt on a cati^ut striuii : And the copjier he.ids aiid color'd quills. And ectaiU aye whence he had fled 'Jo loom in dread niei:;ue A stealthy Horror, tliat e'en now Crept after him apace. V. And loiiK he fared with lahor'd steps, .\ud many moaning siglis, Till sudden changed the scene for him- He jiauscd in grim surmise, And g.ized, with feeble hand upHft Unto his Meared eyes. VI. For on that plain, whose barrennesi X(j future may redeem, Now willi emotion manifold His eyes hehold a stream Of solemn waters rolling with Liibruken thon gleam. Behind the haunted desert lay, P.»»frir{> ^ mvsterv. — \\ l.al hazard there of better plight. ...JStUfcu tkJM^Attfsa IN AMBER LANDS What dark respite may be. Not knowing yet he ventures on. Round glancing fearfully. viir. Yet when he reach'd the reedy shore To brave the rivcrV brink, Dcsi)air almost like peace he felt The while he knelt to drink, Thinking in those deep waters there How easeful he might sink. 65 IX. But as he bent to take the draught He spied a ncaring light; And down the river slowly drew A lone canoe in sight, Wan as a crescent newly born Upon the verge of Night. 5H X. At that his eyes were steadfast set Upon its glimmering rim; Above the current visible The dainty shell did swim, Until it gleam'd upon the tide na lair aorcasi ot him. i 66 IX AMBER LANDS XI. Tlicn forth the old man strctch'd his arms, With nnittcr'd prayer and hoarse; As if that vessel frail cmild hear, It 'p;an to veer, perforce Ohedient to his one aiijjeal, And shoreward hent its course. M XII. A moment more upon that shore And he has parted thence; lie feels the soothin*; waters roll, Relievinjj soul and senopiing of some pale, delicious Afterflower of vouth. i ■-. !<»,!, IN aaii:i:r lands 67 XV. And now he's 'ware of warbling sounds, Faint cchoinj^ and bliirr'd ; And now of one more clear and strong; A wondrous song lie Iieard ; It secm'd the happy dreaming of Some lone entranced bird. XVI. A slow and golden slumber song, Whose languid numbers gloze, — A witchery of syllables In woven spells to close Sad eyes to lung forgetfulness, And marble-like repose. XVII. At length the bird's sweet arias In fluted notes subside; He thinks how near its covert he Would peacefully abide ; Then once again his eyes unclose Upon the river's tide. M XVIII. Around him fell a warm twilight, The waters now were blue ; Far-off appear'd on either hand iv terraced >tiaiiu ui view, 68 IN AMBER LANDS H I t Upleadincj to such gardens as No mortal ever knew. XIX. And while he gazed that wan canoe L'ncrringly did steer, As 'twere a thing of destiny, And presently drew near A gentle shore outjetting to A mottled marble pier. XX. And mooring there he stept ashore, Still joyously intent On seeking for that singing-bird. And garden-ward he went, Strolling thro' the solitudes In fearless wonderment. 'i» XXI. 'Mid spaces smooth and wide between Where grow gigantic trees, Whose branches ever quiver in The faint continual breeze, And tangle up the placid sky With shifting traceries. XXII. Yet many steps he had not gone Ere strewn upon the ground, (ir CTlf>aminrr ft-pirvi .•«-«....-,_ -iim IN AMllLK LANDS 69 Or near to him, he found Abandon'd bodies bciuliful In charmed sUimber bound. xxni. Comely youths and maidens in Sechidcd dells al'.ne. Or else in ca^y j^roup> roclin'd. With arms cntwin'd — ail prone Like fallen statues carven out From jiallid Parian stone. XXIV. And some were e'en more fair to see And shone translucent white ; They secni'd as waninpf to .1 sheen Of pure serene starli>j;ht ; And even as he gazed one slowly Faded from his sight. x.w. Awhile he marvell'd tranquilly, And then his eyes did stray To where an ancient man appear'd. With flowing beard and gray. Who musingly toward him bent His solitary way. xxvi. But as he came his footsteps scarce The silences bestirr'd ; He seem'd so rapt with reverent awe, f if '1 1.1 a. r: s ^1" i IN' AMIJER LANDS He neither -aw or heard Frir holy th<»iij,'lit>. that compass'd him,- JIc j)a^s'(l without a word. xxvir. And pravely thro' the mighty glades I'pon his way he kept, That ancient lone soninaiiilnihst, Who nothing wist except The reveries hegniling him Where all the others slept. xxvin. Then had he mind to follow on The F.IdcT for a guide, h're yet the forestry hetween Should weave a screen to hide His all-iiiilieediiig Drtiid form Which on ahead did glide.. XXIX. And long thro' aisled vistas that Bewildering intervene He follow'd on till he espied A vast hillside all green, With sloping lawns and fountains deckt, And high whereon is seen XXX. A wondrous gleaming palace built r\( -1-1 I , 1 if I\ AMl'.i:f< LANDS With many a niche and window set And minaret far tlown 'liovc golden domes «)iit j^ra^sy marge ( )iH' [ircrii --s maid duth lie, l ncoiiiiianidn'd a-^ a --tar, Hit htantics far outvie All (.tlicrs in tlu.-c j^'ardui-- seen, He will not [la--- lu>r hy. xx.w. Ikr face, half jjilli.w'd on Iier arm, I- to his dwii nptrrn'il So t(n thi^ ! And h.df -he u.ikrn-, in hi, arms ^\"!liIe he doth -w.M.i, fup hliss. X\N\ II. There hath he fallen hy her side, All onier life i. s[,cnt. ^■'^ " that pair eneireler] sleep '*■ ^1 .-^ Ml diip content: ■ IoIIl: 1m p;i in utter v.iniihment TO ai^e. !,.„•: iM ,,;,^. a^^.yy 4 1 f»t IX AMDER LANDS 73 OCTOBER. When I was a little fellow, lonp apo. The '^easnn of all ^easons seemed to me The Sumiiier's afterjj;l()\v and fantasy — Tlie red Oct()l)er of ( )ntario: Ti) raiiihle unre'-traiird where majjles grow Thick-^et with butternut and hickory, And be the while companion'd airily By ehin tliiiii^'s a child alone may know! And how with mnj;;s of cider, sweet and nullow. And block and haiiinier for the gather'd store Of t(>oth>onu' nut<. we'd lie arouncl before The fire at ni;^dit^. and hear the old folks tell o* Red Indians an fouj^ht, and -^W^cd cities seen, And met adventure in a lliou^and wavs, That oft he tcld to me. in homely plira^e, Uajdiazard. like his carele-s heart, hut clean: It seem'd to can- the pains that rack'd him keen To he the hero of my childish Jilay-. And when tluy put the uU\ man in his ^'^ve, 1 mind I stood beside — hut did not see: For thro' a hiur of tears there came to me A vision as of -unli,t,dit. and a hrave Awaken "d soul outsailinj; cheerily — Uplift upon a wondrous azure wave. ^trf*j'-nJ^;i,m wCM'^.. .-.•"- i Vrt - u.-"- - - - ■ :';."- '3-'--i :" - --?-^■ r-.". '-':_i(.. IN AMBER LAXDS 75 COQUITLAM. How oft I'd steal away, in hot Julv, At early dawn, thro" dell and over hill. To hear at last Coquitlain's piirrinp^ rdl! — To whip the riffles with some paudv fly. And tempt the leaping tnmt, alert and shy! Munehing: a bit of chocolate to still My hunpcr. as the day j^tcw lonj;. until The sun was shining low upon the sky. Then, proudly, with the fish that I had cauglit, Go trutlginj::: home for man} a weary mile, Full certain of a mother's welcome smile. And that she'd choose the best that T had got, And :)id me tell her all about it, while 'Twas cook'd up for my supper smoking hot. r ! w 7C^ IX AMDKR LANDS THAT OTHER ONE. iff II I. T ti<;efl to f:^n to Sunday school \N'hcn I was a little boy; I said my catechism pat Ahoiit t!ic wrath to come— and that And Iu)l\ kinds of jny ; For my pntty teacher told mc sure H 1 didn't learn it well God some day woul.l stick me down In a red-hot hole in Hell. u. I n-^ed to think if Cod were dead How j^dad the World would he! How all the solemn an;:je!s. up Where ^-old counts less than a buttercup Heside the Jaspar Sea. Would quit their endless psalm-singincr And chuck their harps away !— And never a lonesome cherub would cry Upon God's funeral day! III. I feh there was some Other One, Who'd waich ant. after all. And e'en as a hahy infidel This poarl of f.nith I won, And still I rest content therewith God is that Other One. ik S^M £ s ^, i4«ft.^tt. r^ r 1. IN AMBER LANDS 79 HARD TIMES XO MORE. The desert trail hath ended in A ^^ardcn way at last : The burden uf the imn years Of uatvlcrintj i■^ past : Dear Heart! the very children cry, Good-by, Hard Tinie>, gf>od-by ! Hard Times come aci^ain no more! Hard Times come a^^ain no more! O iiappy children of the Kinjj! Hear them sin^\ sini;, ^inj,' — Hard Times come a^ain no more! How little in the Wilderness The great rtlicf i- giie-^'d ! Where seek the weary midtitude Continually for rot ! And dream not how it ijrawetli nigh — Good-by, Hard Times, go<3d-l)v ! Hard Times come again no more ! Hard Times come again no more ! O hapf)y children of the King! Hear them ^ing, >ing, -ing. Hard Times come again no more! 11 8o IN' A.MIII.R LAXDS =*'.*.? ^;.-xi V: :*-'-■- :i The tilings tliat -c'cnrd a- shadows once Alone art- ri-.il Iuti' : The j,'Iorii- of i])v I'runii^cd Land Sliine (itit before lis, dear! And we sliail inter, you and I, — Good-l»y, Hard Tinier, guud-by! Hard Tiling come af,'ain no more! Hard Tiiius conu- ai,'ain no more! () liapjiy eliiidren of the Kin;^'! Hear them -inl,^ sinj,'. ^luir. Hard Times conic again no more! ii ISIjlIii It Ji!l2i*^;i • --T- V ^1 IX AMI5RR LAXDS 8i MOTHER. I. There's a v.. in- t:;at I have heard Al(.n<,r thr Way of I.ifo, A voice that -.luiileth only When my voiil i- worn uiili >trife, W'lun I fal! in lUtrr weakness ( )n tin- -toii\ cii-IIf^s -tiTp, Some one c< the Motlicr of n- all riiat croi.iuth tu mr then, ."^ootliinL,-^ iiK' witli vi-iotis And dn-ams hiyoiid m\ ken. With a Mii)^ I ,lo „<.t midiTstand, Whose words I cannot keci), Only the hurden of her song — "Sleep, child, slotp!" ttT. O Mother— holy Mother! (^ Mother of m\ souI ! Shtnili! (lav di partinL,-- leave me Afar otY from inv L;oaI. u< t I 1!» i :i^ 83 IN' am(u;k i..\xr)s Ia-I Ilk' I'.ill .1-. a wrakliii^ hack I II tli\ l-')-Mii), ilini aii'l iki'i) ! Afiil ii\r iii\ faiiiui- ulii^pcr only "SltTp. child— sleep!" rCI|II^ci^Ur>iUt*Ii>:L itflMialLX^afi Tm^..mm^ -:m^^.s^.=^^ .^|^•VTV|'^ IN AMCLR LANDS ^6 THE d[u:a.m of thk i)i:r:p. "We wake aiiil find ()iir>.clvt.-> rm a ^tair ; there are stairs below ii- uliicli wc -cmi to lia\f a^cciidi-d ; there are stairs u],"\v u-. many .i .lU', whicli {^o up- ward and out of >ii;hi. " — limcrson. Lo, the Deep hatli (IrcatuM a dream Of omen .sil)\lhiu' ! An endk-s tlow of endless dust Wherein unniitnlRr'd ,i;ods arc thrust, Who wrilhv uneven. II. And Mind and dumb tlioy or the'ein And find nor rc-t nor ea^e ; From stupor rous'd by (|uciu-h!css hist For that — they know not what — that dust Can ne'er appea>e. in. And writhing so, they wreak tlie (hist To shapes of f1or and faun. That rise and fall and ri'-o anew, Cniniblinij, aye, as the j;ods reel tliroU!:jh, I'ntil — anon — » ;■ * J _i;^X.v^.^*X. MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANS > .d ISO TEST CHAPT No 2 1.0 I.I 1.25 i~ illlM t m t m )- |40 1.4 1= 2.2 2£ 1.8 1.6 ^^. 'fiS tuil Mot =,!r,c! — ^™ ''ocheste^ Ne* orh '4609 uSA '..^S ""6i 482 - 0300 - c^onc ^S: "6; 288 - 5989 - Fa. i' 84 IX AMBER LANDS rv. A few see tliro' tlit- murky reek What '.pirall'tl pathway looms In Tiiaii reacho. coil on coil ; — But the wise gods know 'tis bitter with toil And link'd with tombs ! Yet the air grows clear as they climb, and keen With perfume of numl)erless flowers; With pas-ion of pleasure and poison of pain, And tang of things ta.ted again and again Thro' the endless hours. ■i m VI. But ever they feel one soimdiess urge Ominous under all, As wrought from the primal uncontent Of some abysmal banishment Bevond recall. VII. Nor purple bowers of idleness, Nor all the feasts of Time, Can free the gods of their grim unrest, Nor lure them from the awful quest Whereon thev climb. IN AMBER LANDS 85 VIII. The ages pa^^s. and they find no end, And vain it all doth ?eem : Yet :-ti!l they toil fcr a topnio-t tair Whereon to wake — somehow — somewhere- Beyond the dream. h l\ 1 If fl sr, IX AMBER LANDS fi It THE SEER. If I have seen the Gods— the primal Three Who play a game that hath no goal in view- W he riiakf. (Ic^tmy, and cvcriiKirc renew Within the ]r,i:.l)lc Space all things that Ik^— Why shonld 1 halt and labor ^ohcrlv. Or care to have men find my vision true? Enough, (kar Heart, if 1 impart to vou The vast a-Mirance that it gives to me! Their muddy hrain^ would make it all a lie, Tlio' with mort golden words I told it o'er; So much Tvc seen that I must see yet more \MuIe Time still gives occasion. Then to die, Let loose, and on my single way explore The unimagin'd orbits of the Skv ! IN AMBER LANDS 87 THE BUTTERFLY. Summertime, and a \v3?tcd -hroud. and the sunlight glancinc: throi ch And the -tir rf 3. rreepinc^ thing withal; Thinking- to crawl, — It flew. II. As if a yellow pan^-y from it- .tern hud loos'd and flown. 1.']) it fli;tter'd, scarce aware, Thro' crystal air Unknown. in. To find the narrow world that was now blossom'd endless wide: And, sailing on its saflron wings, Soon wondrous things It spied. IV. Around were honied feasts all set in the hearts of a thousand flowers ; And merry mates to while away In wanton play The hours. If 88 IX A.Mi;i LAXDS v. With them it flriitc To the curving heights Of t ree; VI. t Or lone amirl the pink (klicin„. p,.tal> of a ruse Anon 'twoiil.l Iin,-ir Mjninolcnt 111 tlx- rajit coutrnl Which knows \n. Xo cn.l to leaves, no en.l to nuwu-., and th.c sweet gra:> rndcr all : Then re\(_I a"ain v. itii it; ;;iry clan Till ni'dit hegan To fall. ' VIII. 'Tuould cling in careless .lumLcr then to the nearest scented lirakc. Or as the dusky hours wore on Perchance annu 'Twould wake IX. With star-enamor-d kin.nien to explore a mvstic noon. \\ ingui- a far. entranced flight In. li c |.-,M li,,|it Of the Moon. i*l^tM t JcU 1 lt«*-l'H M a uii : ti£-.:. .111^. > jrt IN A.\li;i£R LANDS 89 X. To settle at Icnsrtli awcario.; in some lily-chalice pale; Nor uakfii till fiill-hrca-ttd Morn Ro?e breathing warm And hale. XI. So passed for it the ca-y hours ; but Summer waned at last, And its Hower-body fell away As a hu>k one dav Offcast. xn. Yet surely a^ before it knew a joyous wakening, So on some new and far-away Exultant day In Spring XIII. Another form shall build ittelf from out the formless Deep; For outer life befitting well The thing that fell A.>lccj). XIV, For in the loom of things to be the meanest life hath place To mark the way that it >hall go, — By patterns slow To trace n m 3' i cbg *e«^'.o- ,ir 90 IX AMBER LANDS i -<■' i XV. Its long ascent tliro' Dust and Death to God's infinity; And evermore the seed unseen Of wlint Iiatli been Shall be. f?f lIB ' ilWtii*ia4«i»^ii / iLHf3TW i L\ A.MBEK LANDS yi NIRVANA. Dow n the ages comci a sound grown dark W'ith unrcmcmbcr'd meaning. Many heard Fall from tlic lip? of One illumM a word Who-^c (liiuhtful go-ptl -ccniM to (|in.'nch all -park Of separate love and joy. wit!i promise stark. If from tluir patient heart-, -till I'.tideterr'd They rooted all desire — the boon eonferr'd Should be to pass from Lif^- without a mark. Old devotees, dream on! Oil -cholars, nod Over the meanm:: of the Indian .'a"c! But I, awakening in a later age, Choose not the deserts whore Hi- saints have trod, Nor cleave to ancient rites or holy page; Singing on my careless way to God. ^)2 IX A.MLER LANDS ILLUMINED. f (•. { m^fi i« * 1^ 1 woke in the Lanl of Night. Witli a fircam of Da> at my heart; It'" ^'oldcii omiino vaiii-hM, Hut its c'larni unnld nnt depart: Like nni.-ic still rcir.ainiii^-. I!iit it- iiicaiiinL;- — no man can -av In tho Lau.l of \i-l,t wlur,. tiny know not Of Day, nc^r llic thiny^ uf Day. H. I dwelt in the chii'f^.st city Of all the Land of Night ; Wlicre the fires bnrn ever brighter That r/ivo the n<*np]o I'crht ; Where the sky abovcf is darkcn'd, And never a Star is seen. And they think it but children's fancy That ever a Star hath been. III. I^iit out from that city early I fled by a doubtful way; And falterin- oft and lonely I sought my dream of Day; f»r«|»ic%s BrnrnrsTTTJi >.-;j ►(T ■ --jStg- --^i^i IS AMCKR LANDS Till F canu- at la-l t.> a M.>riii.uii That rii-i- fxiifiliiii; liiui'i. And 1 tlionijlit I -asv uii it> -uiiimil A glint a> <'f (lawn truni the ~k\. IV. 'Twas midway on that Mountain That I found an altar--tono, Deep-cut with runc< fortrotteii. And symbols little known ; And scarce could I read the meaning Of the let,an carveii there. But I lay me out ti.'ahnj; down the mountain-side U'er the luwly ways uf men. XI. The Star was p^nnc. but it hroupht To hpht in it> crimson t^low The lovely tliin{;js forj^ottcn I drcam'd of lonjjj aijo ; And gladly then I had j^ivcn My life to all below ; Yet I rose not up from that altar-stone, I would not leave it so. I:' 'if Sir; it!! f XII. And at last was a .cfoldcn Star ; But I scarce know how nor where; For it melted all nrotuid me. And the other Star- were tlicre ; And "ill in one bli-sf^il moment ■ '/^ I^' A>rnnR i.axds The \\}rht of Day lia.l como ;— Then I rcci'd away from that altar-stonc, ( >Iii, and bhnil, and dinnlj. xrrr. I dwell acfain in the city, I seek no more for Ii,<,dit; But I go on a mission of > tf -ri-_ :._ -^ , ^ . ' J _^ fe^i 98 IN AMBER LANDS .3^-y EDGAR ALLAN POE. I A star-eyed captive, in a lonely tower, Look'd o'er a lake outspread in sullen gloom, Illumin'd with infrequent lily bloom. There wayward Zephyrs sounded hour by hour Upon a harp whose pure Eolian power Beguil'd him, as he paced his haunted room, To song's ne'er heard before — voicing a doom That from the very Heavens seemed to lour. 'Ml He sang the songs of Death till Death, his theme, Engulf'd him in that Night of Mystery Wherein so often he had peer'd to see The trail of vanish'd Love — the Elysian gleam L^pleading to a starry destiny — Twipkling from the very gates of Dream. > X »J ^M^ « » » ^K.^^C,,i«^^r^v:\-rC"^;J, *Rf3'^^-3fc -m-^§' IN AMBER LANDS 99 IDLEWILD. I. Once in the land of the Maple, In the niithiiost \immin time, The nicllow. \vanin<;. yellow, Indian Minimer time, With tile maid Estelle I stray'd Tu i;atiicr leaves in a lonely glade Afar in the forest of Idlewild — Forgotten Idlewild. if II. And we linger'd there, for we sought 'l"he choicest of the leaves ; 'Twas hard to clioose, and we could not Decide on the lovelier leaves; But all that dying Indian day. While it waned and waned awav, How they floated round tts. glinting In the amber li,i,dit, and tinting All the aislo of Idlewild ! All the aisles and liidden places W'here the forest interlaces O'er the paths in Idlewild! I low they vanidi'd. strangely hinting Of the silent other spaces lit lu loo IN A.MI!I:R laxds More remote in Idlcwild ! Fell nr vani-liM. ever liinting Of the -eeret that eflfaees All the joy of Idlewikl ! in. Till the Gates of the West were opcn'd — Oh ! tlie Gates of the West are wide ! And the aniher li^ht sank down and flow'd Away in a w ine-red tide : — Away thro' the forest of Idlcwild In a wine-red, weird tide. IV. But the leaves drank deep till they drain'd The wiiie-lis:lit out of the West ;— The last of the wine, till it stain'd Their hearts with the hues of the West,- With the hectic hues of the West. nl Ah, now in the land of the Maple, In the midmost Autumn time, '1 he mellow, waninj^. yellow, Indian summer time. Disconsolate I roam Afar within the aisled, Olden, silent, i^olden Forc^t of Idlcwild, — Forest of lonely memories only,— Silent and golden-aisled. rW^'mmm^'mM' IN AMP.l'R LANDS lOI VI. But I find therein no >olacc save At a spot made Imly with tears; At a siiot wliere the ancient l)ranchcs wave O'er the pale-^t dead that ever they pave To that forest made h^ly with tears. Anfl the hour- pa>s there unlieeded hy As I dream o'er the remnant leaves tliat lie Strewn from the (hm receding years Deep on lier grave. VII. O, Estclle. beloved ! Maid of my heart's one dream! Thy vision thro' far Elysian X'ista*^ T sec in my dream ; — \'istas that loom thro' the nltimatc West, Wherein thy soul hath sank to rest ; — O richer than life in a dream sublime. Beyond the tremor and touch of Time! m Hii iiil 102 IX a.mbi:r lands ] i! THE ji;\vi:l that ca.me. I. Once an artlcs- mai c:ay. with la(He> (hp;ht In -ilk attire, wire there ; Iiut alien fine anet 1 licanl ^ui'ft niiisic rinp^, And I ^a\v a wliitc yacht sailinfj, Aiifl I licard a fair crew siiifr; llravchcart^ ! Sweethearts ! \Vc sail the Wanton Yacht ; Ami an\ where and everywhere That's far away and faint and fair Is the goal of the Wanton \'acht ; Yo ho! For the goal of the Wanton Yacht ! I II. And long T stay'd to hear Their songs that came to me Ont of tlie deepening twilight, Ovci he purple sea : P.ravehearts ! Sweethearts ! We sail the Wanton Yacht, Free as the wave and the careless breeze. With only our hearts. Sweethearts, to please, On the deck of the Wanton Yacht, Yo ho! For the deck of the Wanton Yacht ! WHiiiilfiigU IN AMDLK LANDS 107 111. Till the hhic of the Summer ni.cht Circw in inv -iRht, As 1 ^aiiL' 1)V tile ~<.a al'iiir: Hravchcart^ I SuiTthcart^ ! Sail iiti in the Wanton >'aclit ! And unnid that I \v«rf with yon this ni^ht ! — With \ I null and I've an I tlir Iikkc delight C)f life vn tlu' Wantdii N'acht— v.. ho! I'or life on the Wanton Yacht! io8 IN AMULK LANDS FAREWELL. '1 I. I will not seek tlicc for mine own, I would nnt mar thy fato ; I will iidt Iirtatlu- (inc vain regret That we liavc met too late. 11. I will not venture now to hope Thy path may interwine I'y >-weet, nnseen and ^•ecret ways In happier days with mine. 11: ■' III. But. Lady, I would have thee know This once ere we do j)art Since first I met thee thou hast been An idol in my heart, IV. Before whose solitary shrine, \\ lun Xij:;ht o'ercometh me. My ^oiil yit keeps one crim^-on jijleam To dream and dream of thee. 'L- '..a4«i^ t:TfjtM»Mj»fifMjit-aMi IN .\mi;i:r land:; 109 V. To drtain what now tlinu mayNt not hear, W'liat now 1 may not tell; — Ah, I.aiiy mine, tlm-e drtam-^ arc |)a>>t With tlii> — my ia^-t farewell! no i\ AMCKR LAXiJ»S THE ARDOR ARABESOUE. 'Twas in an arbor arabesque Wlu-rc laii.L;liiij,r \ iiK> did -crccn From watchful eyes. I met tbee fir>t. O wan and w ilcllinL,^ pa.-sion-cur-t J rcne I H. Thy kinsmen kept thee from the World, Cold as a elui^icT'd maid, DcstinM f(jr -old and hi-h de-^rec, And dctm'd their iron will bv thcc Obey'.]. i III. A flower to l)loom in statclv halls. Ancestral and alone. They thought thee all too chill and pure To break the seal of love's allure Unknown. IV. Ah. witching one I I pled-c thee still For the ruddy wanton tide 1^1 IN AMBER LANDS III That flush'd the virgin veins in thee With young desire that would not be Denied ! That wclcom'd me in the wandering days When once. h\ starry cliance. I fiumd thtH- in that Xurthern wold Reading an ( )rient rhyme uf old Romance ! VI. Ohiivifuis to all el'^e 1>eside, Thine eyes were dreaming o'er A quaintly i>ictur'd open Ix^ok Of tales once told to Lalla Rookh Before VII. Her minstrel lover left her side, In humhle gui'-e grown dear, To claim her where hi:^ palace tower'd W^ithin the vale of rose-embower'd Kashmir. VIII. But what to me that day were all The songs of minstrelsy? — 112 IX AMI'.ER LANDS Of mai(K wlio sii;li"(l and knijcjhts who dared In ancient ilay.-^? — I (jnly cared To sec \i ! IX, Thy silken hammock swinp^-ing low, In crimson tannics \vroujT;lit ; — Thy hody ciirvinj^f light and free Within its yielding; tracery ; — Mcthuu^ht No houri-liannt(.'d howcr uphuilt I'.y dreaming' Saracene E'er greater ho.uity did enshrine, Or loveline-> surpassing thine, Irene ! XI. Long 'neath the vine-clad arch I stay'd Of that sweet solitude; Scarce breathing. — so T found thee fair, I would not then retreat, nor dare Intrude. U XII. Whcio sle]it thy haughty kinsman then, The while T watch'd unseen. rsSBOaS^^SB IN AMCER l-AXDS The tang of tlnj^c love talcs inspire Tliy uillinij lifitiy as with fire, Irene? xni. No rumor of the World was there; I'lit round u- ^eeni'd to tloat A low Eolian und-.rtone From gloom of royal gardens blown Remote. XIV. And when at last T venturM in. What words I found to say I know udt now — 1 only know Thine eyes grew --oft, thy v(jice sank low, That (lav. "3 XV. Yet how for me thy Inc did swift As some wild rose unfold Under the Sun of Sumniertime, — Ah, this may not in idle rhyme Be told ! XVI. But there were days — sweet stolen days Ere dawn'd the wretched morn 114 IX AMCER LAXDS h That saw tliat arlxir (Ic^olate, And tlicc- con>i<,'n'(l to j^ihlcd fate, — Forlorn. XVII. That l)ani-h'(i nif to roam. Irene. rpon this harri'ii shore; Thou haNt thy i,'oI(l and his^h degrec- I go my way arid hear of thee No more. xvrii. Klf Yet still in memor\ thou art mine, — .^till OIK' Aiid^iniinicr nij^ht For me is ,c^Iimineriiiy^ in the past With tile passion of its last Delight. XIX. When the elfin zcpliyrs follow'd thee, And their halmy breath du\ steep All the dusk and sultry air That waver'd softly round us there With sleep. XX. For on that night— that only night— When thou wast mine, Irene! rT^i»^LS-^^zj -js^gj^r IN AMBER LANDS When thou did'st lavish all thy cliarms On mc, and tremble in my arms, And lean XXI. Back in glad abandon to My passionate embrace, Love leapt to tlame that all thy tears Could not tl.cn quench,— nor after years Efface. XXII. Out of the arbor arabesque. In the deep Midsummer night, I saw thee pass, and it scem'd the gleam Of a falling star,— and it seem'd a dream In flight. XXIII. O wan Irene, so far from me! I know not where thou art ; But I love thee, and I'll love thee till Death's final hand shall touch and still My heart! XXIV. Nay, through the night of the afterdeath, And the ghastly vast ravine, 'Gainst all obstructions of the dead I'll win some way to thee, dream-led, Irene ! 115 . 'i ii6 IN AMUER LAiXDS -**a* i f;l ;ccm\l e\ory .-tain Of care .in^I p.iin ciTaociI : A noddin-- urc-.'ith oi pupi'; dowers Upon my Lruw \va^ placed. And long I look'd in -ilcncc o'er The : ilvtry c\i)aii^o ; Anon V. i'.h iv.u w'- ^ift employ I (Vu\ my joy enhance : No -iren e'er had -weeter Vijicc To c,dvc it utterance. VI. But that — ah, that wouhl not suffice — The more I ban-:: the more Mcthon dn the sand- alluringly Did lieckon me explore WTiat .s])lendid city lay heyond — What foam-besprent seashore ! VII. Then up I rose and r-oueht the West, Wherein the Sun ilcclinM : And I'ght and merril\ I Hew. While ever blew bchiuil. Outspreading wide my yellow hair, A perfume-laden wind. ii8 IN AMCER LANDS 'U VIII. On ani! f ii and ever on, Witli uliitc. niitirinc; feet; An'! ever ^aiid- interni'nable Ne'er flc'l gazelle so il^ct To find what faery thin.c^ mipht be Where sky and desert meet. IX. How many a -ore and stricken heart Mi,L;ht tht-u have envied inr That -(Mithin.L;. virj^in (k-crt land I — Si) li nely and -i> free I Sechdsii'n -weet ciMninini.^led all With ^unlit liberty. X. And soon with scarce a motion of My own I smikd to find How all un.-triving I did tly : — Then reckless I resipn'd My Ixidy as a bnrden blitlie Unto the eager wind. 11 XI. And on ami on and ever on I held my --tcady way ; And felt the jiassion of that flight No distance might allay ; Not e'en the stars' sweet benison At ending of the day. 1\ AM DICK LANDS 119 XII. But witli amaze I >a\v at la>t How huge tlic Sun did ihine ; And thi5 a!--"! I marvcll'd o'er — It did no more decline. But red and ceri'' lincrer'd on The far horizon Une. xm. Yet on and on and ever on The -ilvcr ^ai^K I --i)urn"d. Til! in tlie neariiiL; \\\>tern >ky Mv t:ha.-tlv eye di-ceni'd What aw fid tlanu- were writhing where The lecniiir.: Sun h:id burn'd. XIV. And from those flames there rear'd aloft Envcnom'd tmcke and fume; Riven by many a fiery streak The pitchy reek chd loom Prodij^ious thro' the night that lour'd Above that Fit of Doom. if XV. Then went the sands to ashe> gray That smouldcr'd 'neath my feet; The wind, a tempest horrible, Now baffled all retreat ; And soon upon my twitching face T /_U 1 ,__: U-^ — o I20 IX A.ML'.Ek LANDS I XVI. The wrcnth of -carlet poj^py flowers Fell withering and ricad : The scars upon my burnincj brow WVrc ^rnrKt now in^^tead ; ^My girdle to a ■^crpent tiirn'd. With fang'd and furv head. xvir. And all my hair, now a'-Iicn-"-; And ni< in-ircai . ovt rt^rovn, iii ray, That ri'ri.I in the rck'n^ nidit Wit!i drear afTrij-ht had 0.r>\yn, Around nic in all ^tran-rhnry shapes Of pi-tilcncc was blown. Till xvirr. 'I c-anic the end where seems no end.— •My hn.ly ^way'd and whirlV! Frantic ..n the lurid cdq-c Whcr.' rioll doih hedge the World;— Then doun the ^rarlet Pit of noom. Shrieking to Ck^d, was hurl'd ! fttn?lHAt tUtflTItttl.gUl riB'TU miitii u t unM m^iu i% I tui IX AMP.FR LANDS 121 ON BEACON HILL, British Columbia. I. Pronr on a t;rn.-v knoll whrrc run--- the sea In from llic North r.uifir. cKop and blue, \\'h(Kf ti i(.-ri[it uaUrs many a century Tut partid fnr the painted war canoe. Till Inan de Fuca aiid hi- >uartliy crew S i'l'd on a tre.i-^ure emi c to rer;ion> cold, Iille I (Ircani'd a -umtiK r cvenint: throiir;h, Watcliiii;:: the rnddy W'e-tem Snn cnfo'd The -nowy-pcak'd 01nnpian^ in transient gold. II m II. Our air hath yet some tanp; of Spanish days. Some glow of storic> fading from t!ie past Of pioneer'^, and wrcckt and c\irious strays From distant lan•!^ along this coast up-cast. Since brave \'anconvcr, from his eager ma.'-t. Beheld tlie inland . f hi- la-tiuf; fame, Anant shore, made fast To rai-c our tlag in (inTge'- royal name. While group'd around his brawny tars gave loud ac- Cloim mmrtarmw^rmimMt \22 IS AM III. R I. ANUS ,\ S. III. Ac-o-^ llic rncky harlior mouth >till fall Echfi.- t' till . f Mu'L.'land '.- ca y croun, And t;iiul\ \'A-^W- I'rnin the barrack.-^ call A challcnqc iv t'lc carclc-- liitlo tnwn That lici hkc a [.rclt maid in tattcr'd gown 'Mid tanojlcd p^ardin^. tcmptincr one to halt W lu'tr j;ii,-iru(l nak~. witi! i\ v riwrcjrown, ArT all acrnid will) !;it oiu- (.-harmiiiu; fault — • «ln n^\ ui^li tlic liid.Uu mm- nf INnuimalt. And iiniu-li.daut lay I tliat aftiruMdn, Tilt' air a -(.lut "i wild white clcviT Ijorc. And I muld li'ar flu iniuiiU and ilir tunc Of tnnihhncr \\av(s rdopf^ t'lc j>i hblrd shore; Such gipsy joys to mc wore ever more Than chase of gold or fame ; but yet withal J felt the first fine tremor o'er and o'er Of -,,nie va-t traffic witlioiit inlorval Tc iraver-e mkhi tlu-e wateruav- imiierial. \i Where now some tngbcjat leave- a Mnoky trail To pencil on the air a coiling hint Ailiwart the li-htlmuse. or the infreipient iH»jinv«r»Mr.iiiii»aritnr40Hiinii!»iii l.\ AMr.i:R LANDS «-M To lar^rly fctd llic cit'U«k Full-frciglitcil witli the ;. irM c prairie Ljranaric^. VI. And niu.-inp: tlni^ upon that gentle mound, Far tluwn the r^ach of \vaur^ t.) the ri-ht I -aw an I'nijirc=;- hiicr inward hotind, Speidiii.^ tlirii' the Xarrnu-, turn and white, And ever\ ninnieii! L;ro.\ni^t>n in\ ^i'^lit, I. ike s'liKtiiinL,' eUar uni'iIihnL; in a tlreain; Her ver\ ni(ili"n \\a- a clean deii^lit. Tliat W'lr tile -ai'jihire -ea tu curl and eream Smoothh (--y ^ilk -tow'd solidly With matted r;re ar.d t^^n- ot fra.L,'ranr t"a; Or cNc. her (juainter earc:o fain to >can. Wee China to>-< in -ilver filiprec. And cnnnini: iviirie> ni old Jajian. Pack'd with iri-wuveii nii;s from Lpahan. VM!. All hail tn her! the white forerunner sent From out the lavi-h \\'e>t to rouse the old 124 IX AMDER I.AXDS Till all it^ >tc!irl habitants bo tcld Of quick new mo.lo of life, and manifold Sv.ft cn:,:,nc. of e.xchanc,e. and how b- ih--e To run their ti:ncs within a f^ncr mould And trum the rut of Chiuc.c ccnturi's ' To reach for wider joy., and .ooihcr luxuries IX. Oh!sureiti.. ncmalltliin.qtobesaid IluitunUrn^ the KaM and V.^.t have met • And uv.r rul mu-e -hall va lu- p.rfcctcd Around th..W,,rM, and „.r, !,!,],„. hall v.t ^luchvant;..,e,.Vru^y.-ni^.rnvaK<..,' Uhethcr it wave imm Wind-,.--, i^in^"'- ;- Oronthefarlh.Mvcr,c:eoff.:n,n,re.et' ' Dove Jearlcss towns, whose hcart.trin.s all the S!.-,1I thrill to every chord from their old Mother-isle. We feci the centre now, where'er we stand -^nd touch communitv in cvcrvthin- S^c, Science, uith her patient, .ubije hand Hath snar-d the Globe as m a w.-zard's ring,' \"d -rt all riem.nt- a-quiverin- ^ I .. .,nr de.r. W,,,, ,„,,,„, ,;,^^, ,,^,„ \\I>. .u, ,,,,^.,,,^^,.,,,,, _^.^^^__.^ ^^^^^^__^^ __ SuKdl .,H.nW to .„e.O>:U th.s 1 know, ^^-- '.-- ar. n.ore the scattered World as one must :x J\ AMl;i:R LANDS 125 XI. Then clo>cr hlcnd for cinj)irc — that i< ()0\vcr : N'l) tiling of wnrili (_'cr came of fcchlcnos. And iniinii i-~ tiic j^tniiH of the hour, riif virtues that by ma-ter craft and stress W'roULjht IniLXely on primeval palaces. And "stoni-li'd l'..uy]it and yreat r)al)ylon With monuments of admirable exce». Seem once a,t:;ain from out ( )blivion drawn To li^dlten o'er the Larlh in uncxami»lccl dawn. XH. We front the threshold of a pliant age. I'oremo-t still, but others follow fast; We may not trust o'ennuch tiie written pacj'C, Xor measure a ith the measures of the past. 1m ir all our million^, and our regions va^t. And arniM array, in lioa-tful numbers toM. To kee|) the trea-ure^ that our -ire- amass'd Hath need of -tate-men lion-like to hold. And still forestall the chanijint; times, alert and bold. Mir. The impulse of the strui^t^linc: centuries Strikes upward now in onr united race, Not for a Roman trium])h. but to case The intercourse of nations, and to place The social fabric on a liapjiier base ; The very en;;inry of war abhorr'd, ij6 IX AMP.KR LANDS So scinn ri^ nny. i- l.cnJnl to ora-e Till' -tain an.l Mi.ii.iy rava.m' "I" tin- -^word ; The vari(iui-!i'.l now arc ;ill to i.(|ual right rostoiM. T'.nt cry coiiteniiit iipnn that -ickl\ crL-t-d i hal would not lin- a ^hol to ^avc it^ own, W hoM' piety ])or\xT^(.' (Knii only feed The hope of leaner nati>)n-., Ixdder thrown. To tread the ])ath that ue have hewn alone: "Twa- not f(jr theni w i- found that path x) hard — 'Twa^ not for them the i'larth -o thi'k \\a- ■-own With r.ritish dead! \ay. rallier let n- ^iiard The barest ruck that flic> our Hag at all hazard. XV. And e'en for sake of rich and plenteous peace. Let mastery in amis he lionor'd still! So ntily -hall tlie fear " foemen cea-c. Lor this i- naked truth, say what thev will. Th;!t when i people lose the jKuvcr to kill Thev count for nau,c:ht annMic: the sons of men; X'tr tonque, nor pen, nor art. nc^r workmen's skill Can save their iiomes from alien ravish then, Or lift their fallen capitols to place attain. XVI. Then j^ive ns rifle- — rifles everywhere — Readv rifle-. ti[)l with hayonets ! And men of iron Kj lead, who little care IX AMHF.R LAXDS 127 For parlor tactic- or for M.cial st-t-^ : Rc^ or woddvii martinets. P)Ut clcar-cyed stalwarts o'er the ranks, who know How l)e^t to train a naval ;^un or trap a f(je. XVII. And the' the burden and the fret of life Still wear upon ti- with unecpial weii^ht, We'll ne'er ,i,n\e wa\ to fratricidal strife. We are a jK-ople -troUL,' to tolerate. Till forni'd opininn traminilly abate The ja.tlfl'il abu-es of an earlier a;.je, Rather than, imjialient. ennilate Those hajile--. nation- thai in sudden rage Of revoluliun wreck their ancient heritage. XVTII. Our Saxon temper, that '.gainst Church and Crown. And tyrant Ca-tles of the feudal plan. Made steady way until it wore them down, And straiten'd all their maxims till they ran Current for the ri^ht of every man Freely to chanj;e hi- state an-! circumstance. Is virile vet unbrokenly to span WlKit i^'.ilf alua-l, what luiforc-een mi-chance. Would tb.reat the front oi our magnificent advance. '?tl i.'8 i.\ a.mi;l:j^ laxd.-^ ii i( i XIX. And \vf have tho-o ulu; c dreams of betterment Outrun their tl.etin.tr ,la_v ; who^e hearts idea! Meat e\erin()re a,L,'ain>t discouratjenient. In hii,di endeavor xvA to cease till all Tile bar- to ojiportunity shall fall Within the I'ninn of the British bred; Nor re-t content until the :.iutual .Machinery of State be perfected, So that no lea.-t of all our brethren go unfed. 11 ^ ll if XX. I never saw f'ritannia carved in stone, Or figured out in jjn.nze, but loyally I've thougm what nierit shall be all her own In that great IlrotherhofHl that's yet to be— The diamond i'.nipire of iuiturity — Wlio-e e(|nal citizens all thron'd elate, And treading each a M)vran destiny, Shall count it yet their pride and best estate lo steadily for coninionwealtli co-operate. xxr. Who'd lx> the bard of that triumphant time.? W ho hath the pen of promise, and the skill, lo tell its period- in exultant rhvme? For I am but a dreamer on a hill, And prone withal fart;i';t;c Iio/.rs to till With fanoic. running wild of thought, or gloat IX AMl'.l.K LANDS 129 F.cric (3n the ri i..Lr Moon, until r.otinic- 1 luar lior .lim liannnnic note— Boding oi forlii>l e-ay a -oni; i>t Beyond the ran,t;e of my poor art You rank'd ( Myiupian-, that loom A^ain-t the azure ujiper air. are .c^rcat O'er tlii- Matc > all rrate low hill. To them youns^r Mornmg throw His g :o Iden fir-t large-e— there, lingering late, Ro o"er, their work i.> tlunc, Their nKincir\ wf l)!ess. And pas> llu wurd t'nuu ^ire to son To niatch their hariline->: From shore tu -Iiore fir tliee we'll stand, O Canada, fore\er hand in hand! I II. We build npon fonmlations broad and sure, Wc stablish fast our place with indu>trv: God f^rant onr work may still endure, Ai'.d aid us miiL;htilv To keep Dur !iomes and altars pure Ai,'ainst the enemy I I'Vom shore to shore for thee we'll stand, (J Canada, forever hand in hand ! II III. (^h. not for threat, nor j,niile, nor deeds of dread. Nor de-tiny made j^lorious with i^oUl, Vc In stony isolation "gainst tli'j skies, Ilalh whclniM all in scnmdlcss overthrow; And almost nuw the white and cni-ted mass Hath choked the s^lacier's t,dia^tly hlue crevasse That cleaves to everlasting; cold below : The wintry day declines ; and down the Pass, Wh-Tc Time hath fallen, desolate, aslcej), To mark the flight of Arctic hours gigantic shadows creep. 11 II. lUit sec I U])On that ])erilous meagre trail, Tiicre winding upward to a dazzling crest, A miner inward hound on Fortune's quest! And tho' the sunlight's slanting weak and j)ale, Tho' in the livid clouds a tempest lours. And far above him yet the Summit towers, He sees therein no sight to make him quail ; — 'Ciainst any steep he'd pit his stubborn powers ; He goes, as dauntless men have gone of old. To play with Death in a land unknown for a stake of love and '^oW. IX AMIU-R LANDS 133 III. mca.lv l.c-s tml-.l for hour> : at la-t he makes A uiuin. ..i^ I-au^o to slntt his licavy pack The tui^tcl suai.^ chafe M,re upnn h,. back, An ahhir with thm \v Yft tip the i'a T lie taki KIl .Tiinii' nil lie .L,'ne liitt tlake-: Mirvey, Willi ha-teiiin'-r -tri'le, (UK- (lUKl Tor he nui-t he <>v ;v the Suiuiuit bv niuht— he will leep uii iIk' other si'le. IV. l,ct other- Down live He'll pion.vr hi- w la" ; he'll ' n with the fir-t of the rush ! r^ iMari-.i- r.i to (le-erts l)leak. av t ) the r fr 7C11 ( chest creek — artli— he'll cni^h He'll d-A i'.iiil tliaw t.ie . 11; hoar.le.lt:ea.:rc.ut-an,l he'll call hi- claim ••The 1 ittle Annu!" l^.r him that simple name U.'lns up a 'Ircam of ho„K- re-unim:4 tlu-h With -tore of vdluw;;olt llu- -'.\. And tr"in it- lui'' nlrctaiit uarnin;^ ilraws: Till' -tiirni i- nii;li — he little dreams lunv nigli- W'luii cur-iiij,' lii- labor ln^t iu' turns to ^'o Down again fur shelter to the cabin far below. I VI. Save your curses, man I ^ on walk o'crbold ! You t;o tof^) -low and sullen ddwn that path! You may live and brave the cuniini; wrath In tho-e tunuiltuous clouds almve you roU'd! Save your cur>e-., man I — fur now you"!! need Every breath your body lia> for sjieed ; E'en now the air i^ struck with deathlier cold; E'en now the foremo-t furiou- winds are freed; L(jok ! — liMik above you there at la>t, And see the lleaveii> whirling downward, vague and w hite ami vast ! VII. So — lie knows ! — too late, alas, lie knows His fierce i)ur>ucrs. and with desperate leap Goes i)lunging madly down the uncertain steep — Down for his life ! Frantic now, lie throws His dragging pack away — his senses swim With swift descent — the storm's o'ertaking him — The drift in stinging clouds around him hlows To make him gasp and choke — his eyes grow dim — n IN AMI'.l-.K I ANDS 135 Tnto h;- \»i> li(iiu> tlu- I'M Ik- fi'o !> • — lUlt 'InV. 11 AV>\ a--in.L:. -vun- to lii-- at liini and n-acli l.onK tlirnttlin.i: tin-ci- out: -iL;lu i- k''>"^". For In- I'M- -et- '"ily \\''>'^'' '''''■'^'- ^'^'^ >i-"''i-^'^"li Of \rctic wind- -wift k'ai)in-; from tlic -ky Down like the -oul- of fanii.-liM uohc— "O!,. Annie, las- ! — p)od-hy ! IX. ••1-or now km j'layM ri.^lit out— im freezing fa-t— rin on the -pot where I'll i'ore\cr he. Ju-l when 1 th.ni-ht my chance had comc— }j;ood-hy I (■.(uid-hvl' my hie i- over now and pa^t ! And it"- Iku'i no u-e. tho' I've tried everywhere To do the l-e-l 1 o.ull. an.', do it -quare. Cod'- kept hi- sinid-c aunin-t mc to the last. \nd I've ^tood it now -o Ion-. 1 hardly care! 1 (t llini fhii h me up. ri-ht her.', if He like-, and hurl Whafs left of mc to Hell l-P.ut you !-0 Annie— my orjihan i^irl!" 'til ii y> IX AM ill; R I.WDS X. W'liitt", uliitc, \vliit(--;il! 'rMnii.l 'tj. wliitc I'.liti'l whit.' .-iii'l . ..M : -!Mii,,;ii,l i. hiirIM Ills I.i-t .-ipjcil ■-■liii-t tlii, nldiilc, W,u!(I: X. tin more! I'.(iil\' .iii'I -'.III rail iii.:kr n. > I'liit'i r ti-lit. l!rui!i!(rM in tl'f Mi//:ii,!" in,i,|,i nin- mar; Hilt Iit\ f.uiiii^r ii— lie". -!:m i:„.^ ri'M.j tlurc— Dcfyiii-^ l!iavur> utiiioq wrath in rLa.v.n-rackM de- spair? Y ■ ' t xr. "r.low. tlun, .lainii v.-n-Mnu ! \nu\x- taken all! ^..11— uiiativir Thin;,. \,,n are that hears— Vt'ii've ii(\rr ..nee lel i;p (,n nie f.-r year-! Y<.irve stript Pie -tark an.l lare a- a \voM,len .loll! An.I there's n.t a ra- of eonif.jrt left! You've hlowil Kvery j..y and every Impc I've known Ron-hlv from my life! And when I fall. You'll hov.l ahove nie. d\iii- lu-re alone! Pile on— pile on. with >onr hlaMed. stranj^ling snow ! on can talc un more hit my life now! Blow, then! damn you — blow !" t!| XII. White, white, wliite,- nnceasinjr white! See! Ik totter-, fielding to his doom— IN ,\Mi:i:iv lANi'S U7 The Miow luitl. r.-.i.U iii.-uKln^ ^hna.-l atvl '"1): lluluhat .^tliat- Tlirr. l.roak. a ^u-l-lon l.^ht That -tailK^ Iniu t- la~t (Ului-u^ era- ;— rinnadul atliwaii \hv awful ^1m' -■ lUhuM a trea^unl.Mlr. r.no.vcn.l l.n^lit In transient -'' ') '■' 1' - ''.^ '"'>>' ^'*-'^' (,n a towering' i'^''l^ t''^" MUi.ct cl-.u-U unroll .1 And l.cV ^:as,.,n^_ at Uu- cruel ^i.kn.lor-"C..l.l- j,a)lasMn- >turm : •'Home at,'ain. Annie— homo a-ain! (.ud- l.ut'ii-^ re^tful-aftcT that ratthn^ tram! It's -ill ~o -tin and ^unnv here— and ^o warm. HoWNva^.t 1 cameso ^oon:- I can't explam- Onlv I know Im home ; and oh ! it >cem. frcx;.l to he true ' DoeMiH it. la»? And it . finer Too R(X)< than all uiy drcam> ! XIV. "You've Rrown .o pretty ^ince I've been away— So tall an.l prettv-1 alnv^^t ^eem to ^ee Your mother Miiilini; there attain at me. lust like she loo.k'd upon her w.-ddin- .. I lie war I went awav aiio early, Annicr Surciv it's not niylit yet r XV. ''Oil! ucll-no matter! Whatever time it be I m «,ne nt the hicky n,Ks. IV,. ,na.!e mv pile ' And I'm t^oin- m take it ea^y U>r a uhijc. No more udik or worrv now for me • IVek.t. ,>f o.Id-a. yellow a> v.mr em).- And I 11 ,lrc.. yn„ thie a,i;ain like the other ^irh And t^et y.ui everylhini,r ,,,1, want-vou'Il see' ' A nncr hk-e mother had-an.i a eoilar of pearl." •- And n, ,,uv-ni In,, t!ie oIt here : — I feel so tired. I think I" Kiss m-, Annie!— th(.ro—L;o()(l iii-ht, my la>s !" God rest the -ouls of the dead who he un the Heights of the Chilcoot Tass! :sc: I fel l! 140 IN AMiiER LANDS CACTUS. I've wandered over Western plains where naught Of in.ivin- lifo will choose it.-elf a home. Save creaiur,- r,f -rote<.|ue nr hateful breed, Rattlesnakes .md hairy tarantulns. And red-,-o,-l< lizanls, wiih their kindred hu.^e, The ,t,dIa-rnonsters. wlv.-e envenoni'd breath Shr-.v.K the erawlin^t,^ centipede, thev sav, And curls in death the silent scorpion K'er he can stinp. yet passes o'.t indiarmM ilie horne.l toads that <]umhcr niid the ^ands There ghnnnerin- hot beneatli the rainless skies. And yet up,on tli.^se plains so desolate Xo spear of t;ra-s lor anv .eaM)n comes AM.ere ecn the arid sa,t,^e-l,ru>h venture's not Jlu.se plants uncouth Tve s,-,„ that elearlv 'how Aor stem nor leaf, but structured all in one, i erennial qrow in rnoted shapes perverse As ever Dante dreamed ur Dorc drew. .^''Hie tall as palms rear cloven pinnacles Pr-udly through the t..rrid atmosphere- And some like minuV reptiles sprearl and sprawl 'Me,r pr.ckly arms alon^ the parched -round ."■>';-'l"at and roiuid. and .leckt with hoary hair. Dwell herm.t-like among the sunset rocks iiaiiyTfjT IX AMBRR LANDS 141 Or lean above tlic canon's beetling verge. Where down — sheer down a thousand feet below — Tlie twilight green is Ikckt with pallid foam I'lung from the rapid Rio as it rolls Between abysmal walls outrageously. And thus in regions drv and damnable They hold the juice of life, well armed about With myriad thorns like bayonets at the charge, Lest any luckless beast upon these wilds From them should seek precarious sustenance. And some do keep within themselves a cool .*^weet reservoir of waters, gathered up In tho'-e brief seasons when relenting skies Resolve at last the roaring thunder clouds In sudden, unrestrained relief to rain. But for them all there comes a time of bloom, When their distorted bodies wake and thrill. And feel within themselves a revelling Of splendid passion culminate at la^-t In wealth of gorgeous blossoms. Xonchalant They dance and tlirt witli every passing breeze, And riot 'mid the spiny bayonets Like odalisques. Irxf.riant to fill With Orient odor and lii^h criri:ival Those waste and unaccu^toin'd s«jlitudes. i •■' i mn Some lift a scarlet .L;lory to the sun, While all day long tluir gol'm "^tamens swell With vtlvet pollen, driftintj i)'er their mate Until her last desire be satisfied. ^' 142 IX AMIiER LANDS I I U i S..I11C. virjiin-Iikc, await the veiled Iiours Of ..no l,,n- cliM.m c-vc. when pure and pale Witli perfect rai)ture they at len-tli unfold Their loveliness beneath the Southern stars, An involved? Cod know.! Hut >urely Character, whose vim Will hold thro "every shape that bodie. it In striving up the >iony tracts of Time. Let that be a. it will ! lu.t I have known Some fellows of my own so jrifted with A like persistent faith they would extract From circumstance to wither other hearts A very elixir of faith and liope. And so I call to mind an old-time friend: A .granite Presbyterian he was Of thorny doctrine and contracted creed. Whose soul a^ in a desert pitiless Dwelt far remover' from pleasant wavs of men Desp,,rM f,,r dcc^U that he had never done And tear-d all thinos beneath the bras.y .kies I'ored.vini'd unto inevitable Hell. It W!tt!irilLi.ti.llYtMM i\ .\mi;i:r i.axds 143 Vet there were times — wc tie'cr couM tell fur why — When (."it hi^ dour old face would fall a ^dint Of sunny Innm r ami of transient peace, As if his straiten'd soul, in very -tress Of its own native sweetne--, had put forth Some fair (juaint (lower to l>l(joni inconj^ruous Upon the harren hraiielus of hi> faith. E'en such a time it seeuiM to me when once In San Francisco, years a^o. I stroll'il With him along the water front and saw A drunken sailor on a sudden halt Before a wounded cur that yelpinj:; lay Upon the road. Xo joasser-hy took heed, But, muttei.iif( word- of maudlin sympathy, The sailor -ttJopM mt-teadily and caught The mongrel creature in lii> arms. At once It stopt its crie.s, and, in brute gratitude, 'Can licU the fellow's foolish bearded face, While he, flinging a cu'-toinary cur>e or two Upon the jeering urchins (jf the street, Stagger'd from our sight with his new charge: A homeless, worthless jiair, whetlur they sought The refuge day-^. life ojjenM fair until Dealli ri'I-iiM him of the friends he needed most, And f:iitlile-s miardians kft him penniless. Vet early for liini>elf an envied place Above the shrewd competing throng he gain'd On one great cii\'s mart, where sweeps the tide And tr.'iffic of lur richest merchandise. And if he dream'd of riches then his dreams Were foiimled well. lUit other things he dream'd, For in his blood was more than bargaining, And he had --oul t(K) great to hold himself I'emirious on the road to mean success. The days went by. And so it was that in 'i'liat rosy-vision'd time — the June of youth — When all things beckon'd him, he thought he found One wonian"> face more fair than all his dreams — One woman's heart beyond the price of gold. Ak'.-I W'lun to another's arms she went, Lovek-> 'mid all ll.Mt(»««««»fe««J4*i * * *** »« IX AMIIRR I.AXDS 145 Went (K'ukl}- out. ami frnm the \va--t(.' nf years Hi- iiriiii.i -'^ fiirtvcr |)a--"(l, I.ikv a- .1 in'>ii](,'nary l)ri;^lit mirai;c i'ictiir'd (jii ail cnilK'-- wiMcniv-^. And tlio' he went nniuuntt^l tlirouc;!! all laruls, ( Jrajiplinfj^ with c j)cvviT-t' de-tin;,. i'verywhiT'^ the \va\ tn liiin \va- IiarrM. And c\ ;r^ ■.'.'•ore he t'dtnd a Iiarder lot: It seeni'd a- i'ate a -in;;'e vengeance wrcak'd On hitn fur fnllit-- of a -eore of hve-. Yet when he eaine anionL;-t n> in llie \Vc--t. Ahh.o" liis -h.a";_;y hair wa- •-treaUt with i^ray, lie -pokf hke -o;ne fr^-h-hearted. jihicky boy, Ready for new ad\eTi;rre an\ where. A -nrlv. th.wartel. hopcle-- -et we were. Strandet>fm*nma».r*tt**ii ■ 146 IX AMP.KR LANDS I yi ;ii And tluTc w.T- tio hitUr frlluw in tlic \Vc>t! Till- fivcT 'tw.'i- that look him off at la^t, And in tlic sliit'liiiL,' >and-- 'vr hinird liini. W'c roU'd a hoiildiT there to mark his pjravc. And on it >cia\\rd hi- nanif ami when he (hed, But made no !-ho\v of ser\ice o\er hini. For there wa^ nu man of n^ could -a\ a word. Yet when the re-t had i^Diie I hn^^irM still, And sat upon tliat old. --triatcil stone To stare in stolid moi •' aiiain^t the We^t, Wherein the ruddy : n had -nnken low :— Sat hroodin^ on the tauLjle of onr lives, That seem -o ;,^nnc awry and ohjcctle-s. Till out of the wreck of unrelated thinjTS One of the inumenl-- came that come to me DriftinjT loose from Time, and wonderful With alien frac^rance and F.lv-ian airs. While ahsently T mutter'd words of him. Witless for all I know — hut no one knows: "His drowsy spirit dreams of me," I said, "Amonj::; the outer L;lades of Paradise!" And I arose, yet ere i went away. Upisn that irrave, I'or lack (jf 1;(.'tter tliini^, I planted cactus for a covering. r ti IN AMBER LANDS 147 TO WALT WHITMAN. I. Hello there, Walt ! Out of sight on tlie old Highway I hear your song: I hear the words that you have said for me: I, a sayer of word>. :-iiig out hello to you: And you are not so very far ahead but you will hear my words also. II. Words, Walt, words! Your words, anybody's words, and the words of the rolling Worlds! But under all the one Word never utter'd. III. O Comrade mine ! Accepting all, eager for all, taking no denial! Love shines in you. through you, from you. Splendid as the Sun ! IV. eagle-eyed ! O Titan-heart ! 1 look with vou to the heights of old philosophies : AjassaBtfaa w. 148 IX AMl'.I'R I.AXDS I^okinp: above and beyond tbcin, shoutinfj ahoy To \voni!cr>< weaving out of Wonder endless in the still Kterne. Hut nin^tly, Walt, I watch you saunter down with huge rejoicing tread Tramping America : Mixing with crowded Manahatta: Swinging an axe in the Oregoti forests: Bellowing songs to the Sea [ill VI. For all your rant and brag alwut your States — who cares ? But the coming f)f the lilacs, And the call of mating birds, And the smell of June, with its berries, And the feel of the harvest air, And supple-bodied youth, and clean red blood, and the ripe white quiver of the grown girl's breast, And all the ea>y common joys of Life to be had for the a-king. The beautiful, bountiful How of things in every land — simple, copious, nnrestrain'd forever. The >ky and the stars and the winds of God, and the lovely faces behind the masque of Death, — For chanting these my hat goes off to you, Olil >taKvart out of days primeval, Earth-born and generous! IX AMBER LANDS 149 vix, Down South : And the tide i> coining in: I watcli you fishing fmni tlic cdgo of the old dock: And a nicr^cr --itting by mi t in the sunshine: I hstcn to yonr lazy chat ; Carelchs there, happy, 5inckinc^' a corncob pipe; Dlowin^j bkic inccn.-e into the round blue sky: Calling It all di\ine. VIII. but the Ocean play'd great tunes for you in octaves run t deep For your tin-e.r'd contcmporics to hear ! IX. 1 tell you, Walt. This World lie.- .-iik for want of men like you: Mure vlorious vagabonds and clean barbarians: T'lonarchs of Life in the making: Who find the tracks of God on all sides round. And understanding not at all yet laugh content. Confident as any babe that sees itself Mirror'd in its mother's eyes. X. Here's to you. Walt ! To you and all gooil tramp-- of Adam following! Free, fresh, savage ! Afoot on the open Road! Taking the trail of the great Companions. . t » » »•♦»• >.««•>• ttH itr4'- '5*^ IN AMiillR LANDS 11 XI. Comracics. ever comrades ! What other words to say ! Comrades, evt r comrades, On the old Highway ! 1^1 _: il i*i-i-i IN A.MBEK LANDS 151 LONK \V(M.\' LAMKNT. Drink if you will to happy ilay-. And th!ii'-^> t'> he— '.'It -iv, ^^■hert* arc the f I''v... - [ ni.l to know? Where are nv. friend? to-dav? Wow ! Hear mo liow 1 ! For Shad .-md IVte ;ind Cicor^o a:iil Jack Who t(X)V the I'.ri'.r fiail and loft no track; Oh! never a one of them all corner back, Ami the uin'.*.r-time i- here! Wow ! Hear me howl I For Olive and June and winte Ircnv-. And the Mexican Kiii aiu! littlj Corinne ; Daughters of i>i\ who have not been .-con This manv and ninny a year! I'm a lone old wolf, and fvc io-t my pack, And the winter-time is liere : Wow ! Hear me howl ! ir. Many are gay and many are fair, And some still mme at my call : But I've gone lame, and can run no more, So what's the use of it all "' 152 IX AMBER LANDS ti' « Wow ! 1 icar inc iiowl ! For Shall and I 'etc and (icor<,fc and Jack Who took the lonj,' trail and left no track: Oh ! never a one of theni all conies back, And the winter-time is here! Wow ! Hear me howl ! For Olive and June and white Irene, And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne : Daughterb of joy who have not been e-een This many and many a year ! I'm a lone old wolf and I've lost my pack, And the witilcT-timc i> here ; Wow ! Hear me howl ! III. I drcam'd last night I ran with them L'ncler a gold-red sky, Where the mountains rose from the green prairie^ And I woke and wisht to die. Pi Wow ! Hear me howl ! For Shad and Pete and George and Jack Who took the long trail and left no track : Oh ! never a one of them all comes back, And the winter-time is here! Wow! Hear me howl ! For Olive and June and white Irene, And the Mexican Kid and little Corinne: Daughters of joy who have not been seen This many and many a year ! i -**TOifflH' m'^:^ f^l IX AMDER LAXDS I'm a lone oM wolf and I'w ln~t my pack, And the w inter-liir.c i> here! Wow ! Hear me howl ! IV. Drink if you will, and drink on me! I5ut thi^ i^ the toa>t I i;ive : Live hard with your pack nnd live yourselves out- Then a;k no more to live. ^53 II W'ow' ! Hear me howl ! Fur Shad and Pete and (ieorp^e and Jack Who took the lon.i; trail and left no track: Oh! never a one of them all comes back, And the winter-liniv i> here! W'uw ! Hear ni- howl ! For Olive and June a. white Irene. And t!ie >dexican Kid and little C' '■inne: Daughters of joy who have not been seen This many and many a year ! I'm a lone old wolf and I've lost my pack, And the winter-time is here! Wow ! Hear me howl ! 154 IN AMDKR LANDS j CHINATOWN CHANT. If c I. I go down to Dupont Street See m\ very jjood friend : I have something good to cat With my \cry good friend : Feel dambliic and want -omo fun, Play fantan with Wun Fat Ilun, He think nic jii--t Numl)cr One, He my very gootl friend. Yim poi — I no care! Yim pr)i — voii no care. Sometime good time alia time maybe! Wc no care — yim poi ! I! II. Hello, how do, come in, sit down! You tr.y very good friend! Yon come best place in Chinatown, You my very good friend ! Too nnich ci ild and rain in street, ^'ou look -ick, nic stand \(iu treat, Fix lip something good to eat For my very good friend. '^^tff h^ ' f Ti ■ IN AMP.KR LANDS Yim poi — I no care ! Yim poi — you no care, Sometime good time alia time maybe! Wc no care — yim poi ! 155 III. S'pose you like some extra-dry, You my \-cry good friend : S'pose you like some mo-goo-gai, You my very good friend ! Fine chop-suey, guy->ce-ming, Bamboo->-tick in chicken-wing. Mushroom •^tew with everything For my very good friend. Yim poi — 1 no care ! Yim poi — you no care, Sometime good time alia time maybe! We no care — yim poi! IV. Plenty eat and plenty drink For iriy \ ery good friend ! You stay here all night T think, You my very good friend ! I lock fast hig outside door, Have best time ynu harl before, Sing-song girlie come some more For my very good friend. I' ! • t«***Mt-««*t*»*l«4 1 ; is6 IX AMDER LAXDS Yini i)(;i — 1 no care ! Yitn poi — yon no care, Sometime good time alia timo maybe! \Vc no care — yim poi ! Sing-song girlie dance for you, Sing, my very good friend ! No more ncv vov. uA d,iir.Lli'.e, bmj d l.-io):d! Too much flrink and v^n ;rnrh fun Just enuuph tn't you? Our ^co' 's paid, and we've nionev tjalore. Enough .0 la.'-t ii> a moiitli (jr more. And never a thing to do! You're hungry you say ? Well I am too, But stroll thi> way for half a mile, Sure the sun i> good this afternoon, Good for a pasty-faced gosMion, Like you. d'ye hear, Moriarty! Aye. 'tis a blessed afternoon For you. you prison-faced gossoon! I'm talking too loud? (io on — go on! I know what I'm dijing I tell you! There's none in this town that we're frighten'd to meet And I'm not the sort that wcndd sell you. But you're hungry you say — you want to cat? Well, I'm at home on Easy Street, And I'll show you a tavern to your taste — To your taste, d'ye hear, Moriarty ! ******* Aw, take your time, boy, wliat's the haste? There, where you ^ee that ugly baste Ayont the Barbecue, .•.♦J» ».-«4»j»«tti«»».'«J«i i5« l.\ AMDEK LANDS if If* in ui ill Where the lettering i^ half erased, "I'was ,t:;ol(l wIkti it was new. Make (Hit that name there if yon can With vonr cock-eye: Tlw Black -und-T an: That's it: 'tis ke])t l)y a Mexican. Anil that's where we dine, Moriarty! It has a loni:: dceiJ-raftcrM room In tlio .Mi-si(jn -tyle : 'tis a man's rouni. And sure you'll like th.is Mexican. A fellinv to follow a lii,du amour, A picaroon and a trou1)adour. Much (jf your stirt. Moriarty! * + :i^ t- * » ♦ Hey. .Miguel! Come hear me tell This lnin,i;Ty friend of mine How tlii< jilace of Nours is for epicures Who like a shady place to dine! See this lone: dcep-rafter'd room, Half aliqht and half in ^looni. And Minder a cactus red in hloom, Just to your taste, Moriarty! Somehow it puts me in mind of Yvette : >'ou rememher — little Yvette ? Will \o\\ ever forp:et that ni^ht when she trackt us Into the old ."^avoy. and cried I'or u- to take her I'ast aj?ain, And we hadn't the price — and then — and then — All rlfrlit. Mii-uel. hv the window here: That horrible rope — it tr,rn> me (|ueer To think of it \et — jjour little Yvette- She a!wa\s was fond of a cactus! IX AMP.I-R LANDS ^'l•'i, iK'cr. M(iri;irt\, Ixi-rl Tlun f)r(kr uliativir uni \\\-\\ — a (Ii>li f >f cliowikr. iicrliaji- a -nU- ; Hut (if thiiii^^s come far and thiiii^s come iv.'ar 1 fancy ati cmiun (iiiK'k'tte With liaccin i ii the -iilc I Or what il'yc -a\- fn a -leak Crc(-)Ie W'itli a ■^Ul■ct jvitatn friiil; V 111 hkc tln-r ihiiii;> (l(jiic Spaiii.^li, And it i-ii't a I"rida\ yet : New rai-ins tlun and a pint o\ port To finidi on: tiicy -ay ''i- j^ood To iron the lilood (jf a broken sjjort, And, they keep it h.ere in the wood. Oh I very well, you know your cue! Yes. that will he all. .Miu;uel. thank you, r.iit see that 'ti> hot and Si)ani>li ! And now while 1 roll me a ci^^arette Tune up that old i^n-.itar And -iuL,^ while we wait. Moriartv! Siufj new o TX AMP.RR LAXDS Iji >**irti^2^ Mnriarty! — '^cc — they're s\viTiq;iii<4 like halters fii-t over onr licad-; a'- they chiiih! And after — and after— and after — Chri-t ! hea: tliat devilidi hui-^diter — Tliat devihsh j^urt^le and lan,i,diter! And there! — ee there how each rafter Is red — drii)])in<,'- red all the time! Xo, no, Mij^iul — I'm will, man — I'm well! My nerves that'- all — 'ti- ])a--ini; — tin- moonlit wheat ()f Ilarve^t-fieI(^ l),,\v fair— Imw lily-sweet I 1 saw thee staml aii,e theatre Must be in regions where no thing's astir. '\ tii. Quaint and low. like some remote bassoon, Across the marsh there came a mumed croon, And all alone one melancholy frog, Squat on the htitt '■•{ a sunken cedar !.\c^. Solemnly did serenade the .Mo,,n:— In tone so Ku and quaint— like tlie duaint bass oon. tMHit^tole Tn drowsy (■;i'icnce frtun the upper air ;^ () Love of mine! in Lden unaware Some an_t,'el slept to let our spirits stroll, While o'er us sang that goUlon oriole. And far above the starlit skic^ nnrollM A spell of silence, and of things untold, That seal'd our lips; the warm rii)e wheat, caress'd By Zejjhyrs scented from the sultry West, Went rijipling likr a sea of pallid gold, — Under those starlit skies, so wide unroll'd. ;ii VI. But when T loos'd thy locks of yellow hair To curl and shimmer in the cooling air. Past coy denial, an unkno 1 of oid ! Vet once to have had thee mine— once i > have felt In thy caresses all my hein^ melt To passion's last felicity,— I hohl Worth every i)ang these scrpeiu years unfold. IX. And oft I loose the gates ■ f Memory To seek amid the tine erta-n scenery, O Love of mine! some vision of thee, pale Within the silence <>{ a mooidit vale Where none may follow, awd where none may see, — Beyond the darkling gates of Memory. I am thy lover still, O Love of mine! My heart shall never lose the fire of thine; And tho' I hide in loneliness and pain. 'My soul shall hold her peace, and not complain. Trusting somehow, somewhere, these arms shall tw ine Round thy sweet self again, O Love of miie! m 164 IX AMni'R LANDS FEY. L'p from a sc.i tliat ua*; Celtic. On a midsuiiiiiur iiiijlit (>f old. A fairy ro-c in llir tiin roHM To a craj^ that wa^ cr and ylory Got from the shf)ek of -pears; Ah! the ^'.iit <'f that jewill'd claymore That hi' father's father liad — 'Twill lie liandle\ da\'. As tlicy tlinii-Iit. on tin- ramparts, drunken: J lo was lev — lie w a> fcv ! m I ii i> ' VII. And the thrall of a lordly amhition, And the combat for lands and j.;ol(l, And titles anrl trinket- of honor. And thint;s that arc l)out,dit and sold. Oh! thereafter he held them so lightly! lUit aye a- he went on his wav. Of a -ong lie would he sinpjing: He was fc} — he was fey! \iir. The clu"eftain of all mo-t s;cntle, Most ready with loyal -word. I'.ut not in the \ear- did he prosper, And he fail'd of the World's reward; Hi- kini,"- rr-ve hi- land- to a stranger, And his lady wa- faillile-s. they say; And he died in a hatlle. forgotten — Wcll-a-dav — well-a-da\ ! IX. Come- -ninething akin to a feeling That no language of men can define, Xo lo one in a million revealing It.- meaning hy ,-ymbol or sign, IN AMP.EK LANDS 167 But told of in Sagas a -Iden Legends of longing a. ; veir — A sound in a silence too g )lden For many to hear. X. Moments remote, imimagin'd. That conu and go in a breath. Thro' the liglit of long days uneventful, In tlu' ])allor of immiiu'iit dca'.h ; In the fire of some red revolution, Perchance in the tapers' shine On >ome extravagant altar, — Some say in wine. XI. No matter, if only— if only That sc.iind from the silence it brings; That ray from t!ic occult reunion Found in the finish of things; Unfitted thereafter, exalted, I'ncaring, they pa.^s among men. And the World, a- they knew it, is never The same ngain. XII. Once, in the dull way of mortals, As I lay in a stujior. I I'llt. As I fancied, the palpable portal? Of darkne>s commiuLle and uielt AAi«t>*M**M*4ltj H**4«tt», 168 i\ a.mi;i:r lands Away into ^"iniTjlLnt crardcns, Iliflflon fdfc'vor from (la\ : All! fn.m tlRiii I lUAtT would waken, CoiiM I ^tav — ccjiild 1 stav ! in NMII. Could T dream within arbors Lethean. Where the poppies that noil in the night Have yielded at laes enehantini^ly wiiite; Where Morphia lies, and her lore is Reveal'd. and her >eerels are told In fra.^'ments of fathomless stories Forgotten of old ! XIV. O souls made tit for the losing Of all that the World implies. Vet who tread not the pathway of heroes. Nor of vaints tliat agonize. What vi-ion i< this tiiat you treasure Like eiiildreii. until vou are crav'' Elu>ive. alluring forever. — You are fey — you are fey! IX A.MDEK LANDS 169 IN AMBER LANDS. Fkacmknts. In a Iuniinoii>; vallc\ once I awoke Ti) tlic sound of anihcr lutr^: And I ate of the l)rcapacc and cycle> immense They measure with intricate instruments. Hut I mind how more it jilea^ur'd me In the drowsy p[rass for lu)ur> and hours Tf) lie with the faintly con-ciou- flowers, I"ar uji on the --lope of the \alley; Or run with the younj^^'r Romany folk, So handsome and sturdy they he, At play in a forest of mai)le and oak, A-rompintj healthily — A-rompinyf unkempt and all at their case, And kindly under the kindly trees Doiiii^ whatever and ever they please Con^istent with courtesy. «*« Oh in vouth I sail'd unusual seas. And -idl I recall me lands like these, Where they do whatever they please, dear Lord, Whatever and ever they please ! 11. Roaming- T met the identic maid Whom i''>re-t-folk and hunters call The Chaielaine of Ronzival, IN a.M[;i:r lands 171 Twa'^ under a cliff in tlic cvru^ladc WIkto tlic icy watcrv hnh' Ic fnrth ; In \(lvft ;,'rccn was -lie arravM After the fa«.liion of the Xor'h: ycntic maiI There is a roum in Ivnizival Rich with hnnizo. .111. 1 panell'd all In oak 5,'niwii dull with time. Ahoiit the lancet windows t! re Mas'sc'j of i\y climh : And •^ome few ro-. -. ir oh fa'', ^\'avc in the N'ortlurn summer air! The Sun wa^ -inkuiL;- thro' the pines, \\')i!e I u,is -ue-i of r'le Chatelaine; Kuddih iti l-intin- line- Ihrii" each lanei t window-pane it lit the panell'd inner wall ( )f that room in Iv mzival. With it- hronze and (piaint desi^^Mis And -tilted ihini,'- armorial: O j^entle maid, for thv heart's ease, \'enture with nie far o\er the seas! ff At tahlo hy a window--eat 'I 1k' Identic maid -at 1(mic,' with mc. And di\ ly of her coiirte-\- She hade me drink and eat; Out vi a hammer'd silver dish 172 IX A.MiUlK LAXUS She clu)-c nic cakes and c(tnitU> fine, l-'ioiii a twi trM llamm draj^oni^h She puurd iiic amhcT wine. O j^^cntlr maiil. nnr _c[nmc i- playM, The (lra<,^rnuilcs founded on The amorous sonjj^ of Solomon, Or I'aynim mysteries; I'ut the learned Moulah whom I bribed (iave nie no meaning of these: Only, observing the courtesies, To me he ^how 1. while the fire in it glow'd, A manner of 'akin!;:^ my case ; From the worry of life, with its folly and strife, A marvellon-i p^ood surcease. And the year- have come, and the years have flown, r.ut the hookah still hath power; And many a -cintilating hour I win in the midst of miseries, Smoking aright in the manner unknown, Observing the courtesies. For then — rih the soul of me understands My ways lead into the Amber Lands, A vagabond here, if you please — among these — But a rover by right in tlie Amber Lands. I have my chanted hookah still. But now. when its fragrant Ixiwl T fill. And its dreamful >moke I draw and blow. ■ IfimilllHWWMWlMnn— wiMM— iMi^ >74 IX AMBER LAiNDS Watcliint,' it go — slow — sc Round ami round the carbuncle glow — Oh ! then I remember things like these, How in youth I sail'd unusual seas, And J would a-roving go. I have my chanted hookah still, But the core of the world has not been seen. And lands unknown yet lie between The roots of Ygdrasil. And what of that garden Ilespcridcs, Forgotten this long, long while? And the palmy cliffs of Hy-Brasil And good Saint Brendan's Isle? And they tell in Arabian histories Of venturings to ravish me. And delectable zones of heathenry Down under the Lost Indies ! But I — I would know of their verity, And to what each tale alludes, So I will again to the solitudes, And the winds I will be loving, And leave these weary latitudes And for the love of God go roving: For oh the soul of me understands My ways lead into the Amber Lands, — A vagabond here, if you please — among these—' But a rover by right in the Amber Lands. h '^i IN AMni:R LANDS 175 VOLAN'A. Tlicre's a by-road the --aint^ fear. And tlio wizard- >cik in vain; Ayont the day 'ti> (|uito near. Yet the way of it t> too queer For nie to make it plain : But we fuid our track by the Zodiac, Then a body parts in twain, And we be Hft in a mode to tlie mere Mass a niadne>s vain, A dream or delusion vain. Yohiitit flfjV a:-ic ir:-k! YuUnia 'i.ckaua vorf II. But what and oh ! what may the mass know Of the things that are done of us? On the round hill wliere we jjo To bide our time in the pale glow For Yolana marvellous? And visions evoke by sweet smoke And breathing- tremulous? Nay. the sound of words may not show The things that are done of us — Remotely done of us! YoLina avic t/rrV a'ic! Yolana xckana vor! 176 1\ AMI'.KR LANDS fl III. A pjold the dry time when the winds bode Tliro' the treetops. and the tree toad Answers eerily ; The dwarf came with the >wart name A-whi»]H'rinir in ni\ ear; And I nodded aiiil took the hy-road Thro' tlie niu;iit o!iM-ureIy dear As a smoky-topa/ i> clear. i'ulaiui (iric 0; ii' iiiit'! Yolaiui :'i'l:iiiui vorj IV. Where the lone pine tree tiin,e;s A rai:;:ed shadow down We lifjht the fire, and the dwarf sinews To keep away the had thinj^s That !.,diniiner about and frown. As we mix the w ine and make the sign They made in the sunken town: — Then oh! a glory of light wings Bearing Yolana down ! Volana (n'ic avic avid Yolana vckana vor! But what and oh ! what may the mass know ()f the tilings tliat are done of us? On the rouml hill where we go j.\ ami!i:r lands 1/7 To slumhor in t!u' p.iU' i^Iow C)f ))l;init< pcndiihni^ ' And Dut of the ski('> niatfrialize ^'olana inarvclloii- "^ Nay, the soiiml thai m\' ilonc (jf us — Reinotily (Unw <>i n^ I Yulana a: I:- ^l:■i^• ux-ic! YoUntit zckaini yorf \ I. Oh! the tuinkhnfT stones of faery When Vohina conies ! All set in tlu' greenest jewelry, While the niap:ie siiK.ke ^'oc^ hluely I'roin the hnrninL; iiiaj^ic ijiinis! And we troll tlie chants in a tjhost-dance To the monotone of druni>. Till we lapse for »heer enchantery When ^'olana conies! Yulana a:ic r. jTfeer ^^ ihester, Ne* fork 14609 ^^ '•^^ "'6* 482 - G300 - Phone =^ '-6' 288 - 5989 - t^::- 'l^Sfm^^^::^^0'M. 1/8 IN AMBER LANDS UNDERGROUND. t I. On a queer, queer journey I heard tlie (jucercst sound, — 'Twas the Devil with a banjo Tn a cavern underfjround. Where tlic merry, merry skeletons Were waltzini:; roimd and round, While the clicking of their bones kept time. 11. Thro' a low. iron door. With a huge iron bar, A door perchance some careless Imp had left ajar. I crept behind a column cut All out of Iceland spar, And the carven angles twinkled frostily. in. I was frighten'd of the Devil, And I wouldn't look at him, Dut I watch'd a thousand goblins l-'roni nook and crannv dim rjt-V; E^SE Hi ■nr.iirtn»*»t«t»»»M»«»a'r«*«n»>m»»««>»mT*vM*«»' 1\ IX AMi]i:R LAXDS 179 A-fjlowcrinj::^ on tlie "-kek'tons, And every <:;ol)lin grim And ugly as an old gargoyle. 1^ t IV. And bogles playM on fiddles To lulp the lianjo (jut. For 't\va> ncAliiiig hut tiie music Kept alive that erazy rout; But the hig green toad> could Only hop about To the rumbling of the ba>s bassoon. Behind the Iceland column I watch'd them on the sly, Above them arch'd the cavern With it-- roof miles high. All ribbM with blue rock-crystal, shining Bluer than the ^ky. And studded with enormous stalactites. VI. But the lovely floor below. With its level crystalline Splendid -urface spreading Radiantly .^reen ! — A> if a lone. iini)earl'~d lake Of waters subttrrenc Had frozen to a llawle— emerald! ♦>>.«**«■»*> »»« <«.»• « *»t Mi'»*fn i U *iiiilt n** l*»** i mi » ft*r^tik i8o IN AMBER LANDS ll vii. And '^v At lost and lovely inia-cry IJcncatli inc far and near. — Silent there and white furcserniure. VIII. But from the sunken beauty Of that white imat^ery Lissome shadows litosen'd, Flaniedikc and fitfully, That lorniM anon to spheres serene And mounted airily, And broke in golden bubbles thro' the floor. IX. There, bubble-like, they vanish'd Amid the wdiirling crew. Yet left a radiance trailing Slowly out of view, That sometimes o'er the skeletons Such carnal glamour threw. It flatter'd them to human shape again. X. How long 1 watcird 1 know not ; The wcinl hours went on. Lost hours that bring the midnight i »♦»•••♦-••••»•*«»•- Mt«tM*«U*«ariTt*tiV»f«ty-".;^ IN AMBER LANDS i8i No nearer to the dawn. When MKMcn!y I felt a clutch, And ',\iftly I \\n- drawn From out bi-hind that carvcn block of spar. xr. My 5oul!— a rk.le'on'— A rattiincr httle thinc^. Twined it -elf a'^'-^nt m- A? cl >c a^ it could clinc:! And in its arm- with horror I Perforce 'ean circling, Compeird by that fantastic orchestra. XTI. Onward s7cr)t the waUr.crs To the wicked tunc;, tlicy play'd, And focn wc were amongst them, And my rattlin7 partner sway'd When'cr the c^olden bubbles broke, And trailing lights array'd Elusively around its naked bones. XIII. A minute or an hour, — Or maybe half a night, — No matter, for at last I wa- over all my fright. And the music rippled through me till I shivered with delight. Fascinated like the fat green toads. l82 IX A.Ml'.KK LANDS ill, lii XIV. And by :in thro' a mist Of -omcthin.cf pink and warm. That quivcr"d and -rcw firm from top to toe. XV. Ihi^dit copiKT-colorM hair SiMin rMi-.nd licr head did eiirl. Ilcr ni(.r.r,i -tcw -wect \rit!i tint-! ( )f coral and of pearl. And >-he looked < n me witii eye-^ that sccnVd Of lanibciit chrys' 'beryl. Wiiile her body fair as alabaster shone. m XVT. A witch she was so lovely, To all el^c T was blind. And the Devil and the Goblins And the Rout wc left behind, In our wild waltz whirling on The cool sweet wind Of the lone lorn caverns underground. I I XVII. Like ro?p-lcavcs strewn V\>(u a crv-tal tide. T ;i_-p f]-itctir>_firi\vn blown. Ttk* i^yS^iiHi- iu i i- a*^*' 'M«MM4t:*M*t*tM<«Ma«S' ' IN AMBER LANDS By Zephvr^ far and wide, Wc swept in aimless ecstasy, Silent side by side, Careening thro' those caverns underground. 183 XVIII. A minute or an hour, — Or ma;-bc half a night,— No way have I 10 measure The madness of that flight. For the looscn'd zone of witchery Made drunk with >hcer hall mix with mine apain. XXV. A moment all her beauty Was li;.'htcn'd as '.vith fire. Her f::ir •.clv.plr.ou: body V.'itli it; traiiin;;. loc^c atlirc, And her cye-^ to mine did ,t;low as in A sunset of de>ire. — Then prone -lie fell upon the ch.apel floor. xx\i. And the white flesh wasted from her As she wa- fiillinj; dead. Her very bones had crumbled, Ere one farewell T .'aid, — From sight of that dire sorcery In wild dismay I fled, Seeking madly for the low iron door. XXVII. Behind the Iceland column 1 found it -till ajar.— Tliro' jjalleries of darkness I travell'd >^wift and far, iUntil I reach'd the upper-world And saw the morning star PalitK" o'er a meadow by the sea. .♦*»♦»*•«»«»»»»»«*»♦♦«»«♦*»«»•-»*•'»•»•*»•:*»«"*■!'*" ■^'H-*'^viv'?:fJ&: 186 IN AMBER LANDS i ^1 JILL. Doctor, I want to be out of this : There ir^ no play nor profit here; 'Ti- all -0 drill) r(.1orM and queer; For thinj^s outworn or tliinj,^^ I wish Life now i> -talc, now feverish,— 1 cannot sleep. ir. A burden on my hoart if lain Of thin, delirious desi-es; I feel the Ha-h of eeri- fires In the cloudy opal of my brain; I wish I knew some medicine To cure it all. ifl ni. There was a ^irl name«1 Jill 1 inet \acation time at Juniper: And 1 was like a boy with her Thnt never cared for woman yet ; I mind hn^v in the red sunset She cail'd to me. wn.w.....«.««»u«^rt^tw»Hi>r>»iwart«mH>»*w«»f««4«u»namtmMU>t».;» L\ A.Ml^KR LANDS 187 IV. Amonfi: the hill- I heard her MnR, Anil in .ylad nmod I went to her; I thou^:;ht tlic emerald glimmer Of her -lant eyc> a magic thing; Some oddnc^^ in her raimenting, Some faj^hion old. Just a touch on a simple gown Of till' -ilk <'t >oinc i)a~t tlynasty. And >-!ic wore a cellar of lace ([uaintlv At her tan throat: her hair wa- down; Her lithe young arms were hare and hrown ; 1 \vor-hip"d her. VI. Oh, she was a wholesome hoyden, Jill ; The savor of her lips to me Was sweet as a late wild strawberry Found large and red on a sunburnt hill ; And I yielded to her pretty will And wavwardness. VI!. Give me the fine cool touch of her! I've had my fill of sweet> and sours With merry lovers of late hours, But little now my pulses stir For banqueting or theatre, Or rich carouse. •I 88 IN AMBER LANDS VIM. To l)c tin- ni.itc of Midi a hi^s Wore- In tier than tlu- Ik t of these; I'nfailint; a- the field (Iai-ie.->. Aiul clean and con-tant a.> the grass; Such plca-^urc a- a plowman has Give me for mine! IX. Who will may wine and women prize; rd follow yru up any Idll I'of in-l a 1 :nl of wat'T. I'll. And till riuht to look in ^" t -lant eyes Till lite <;ri\v >troiiL: and >ane and wise h"or nie atrain. H A burden on my heart is lain Of thin. d'..-lirious desires; I feel the fla>h of eerie fires In the cloudy opal of my brain ; I wibh I knew some medicine To cure it all. xr. Oh. if I could hoar her sing A'- 'mono the hills at Juniper I think thi- pestilent fever Woidd pa>^ like vap«ir scattering Before a breeze, or else someihing Be fine as that! ••***«•«*«•« MM j'nhiirriiii^^ IN AMUKK LANDS i8«; Ml. For oven jii>t to tlimk nf lu-r Is {^r.itifnl to nil- ;i- the priitic ( 'ilnr\ I if tlif iii'iniiiii.; lime ; A iiifiiitirv III l.i\i-iiil«T Of yjuUi tuot-lw(i-c III a wide >ummer Sill' i-. t dull >ickncss, And I would .xlccp, XIV. Yes, I would sleep with a sleep supreme Till all that frets me uow were i,'onc : And I would wake in a youni,'^ fashion To healthy jo\> of I'iH and -tream, And no dame or maiil of all I'd deem To equal Jill. XV. For hand.somc she is in the hill-country : Set in her sunbrown'd face slant-wise, Doctor, she has ,t,'reen j^lurious eyes; Oh, ii I were only free. If I could rise of liod"> mercy And go to her! wmmmmm .t..»..«»»»»^««»««tt«t»« » » ««nnw ««tm?f*4ff*»«*» « < *> * '* ***^*'*-' I' * it 190 IN AMI'.KR LANDS 1^! X\ I. But a burden on my heart is lain Of tliin, (k'Iiri(in> df-ircs; I feel the flasli of eerie fires In the cloudy opal of my brain; I wish I kntw M^nie medicine Tj cure it all. ■^"TIr^ ■j^i.titi--*m»m)nr»t- ■IteaAM vMrna- ::, IN AMBER LANDS 191 BROKEN DAYS. I mind no more, nor care to understand, Those dull brutalities too long endured ; I only thought of work as I came forth Most fitted to my convalescent hand ; Of old ambitions haply I am cured. This city budded nobly in the North Affords me refuge from an outworn land. n. Somcwhiie I drifted without any plans. And found no place until this ni;^ht work came For words mispelt and letters gone askew In the rigmarole the glum proof-reader scans, I've now good lodging of a .simple dame In a cottage rustic where all else is new On a quiet street of decent artizans. HI. I wonder what she was at seventeen, This landlady of mine so wither d now With three score round of years. Her cheeriness O'ercomes her poverty and widow'd mien ; She treasures little things, and tells me how She keeps the fashion of her Sabbath dress, — Her velvet bonnet and silk grenadine. . fc.4*»»»>>w w»*>«»i» «CT»»««*y**t « »*4 «t*it | l|t>»llW* t nit iUt!HfW i lW Wf »t»fWH>1H.« Kcr. I 192 IN ami:i:k lands •f IV. Ilcr cottairc lias a wliolcsonic atmo'^pliere Of j^oMdi thyme an- too secular witlidrawn, A place 10 meiliUite. or in au'^tere Clean solitude \o -Uep aneek relief as in my evil day When evil things con>pir\i to baiter tne Pfc^.p "-Jk*-************"^*'" ">*• iMiiiMt IX AMLER LANDS Until with -trc^i nnd nnL;ui-h ovcrwrnuc^ht i tliiiiK -I vu- r;inii :iri nf my brain .^avc way; 1m ir in ilio triivT i.f (!ii- ]iaU' apathy The pa?t appear.? a dream— the future naught. \ III. In a grimy nffice "f the iKiily Blinl: A reailer\ de-k i~ it aj^rt i'"i nir. And thtvf at niidit 1 wurlc fi.m ei^jht till four The waL'f i> fair, with liltle need l»> think; In automatic way unerrin.yly, rho' l)iU a nnviee, I correct and score The acrid .galley- rank with printer's ink. IX. A cozv creamc rie they call the Star At one o'clock I vi-it hungrily. For roll- and coffee and a 1k)w1 of .^oup; The place i•^ -potle-s kept, and ii(.)pular With -oher Hi.i;ht-hawk- dinin, there with a favor'd i^roup— Good fellows all as printers always are, X. 'Tis well ni^h dawn before T find my bed Where everything,' i-^ clean prepared for me. A monoplane of dreams with wins^s unfurl'd I fancy it, the pillow 'neath my head, As smoothly up -ome vast acclivity In spreadinsjf spiral ways I leave the World; Of it and all things over-wearied. 193 ■ « « «irti«i «* «W* i »« palelv hhie. And under no compulsion yet to ri>e. And with no mordant tlKjuglit to intervene, I doze an,! dream alternatclv till two. xit. And day l)y day thus unconccrnM I live. Forgetting former things that did me wrong; Thankful for this safe obscurity. And glad for the ad.le.l comfort' 1 can -ive One poor old woman who has lived too long; Of late I find her growing motherly, And in her harmless way inquisitive. xiir. sShe wonders much at me and at my ways; I am to her a man of mvstery, Because I breakfast in ihe afternoon I3ut pleaH.l .he always is to have me praise Her toast and marmalade and good black tea • And the porridge bowl, and her last silver spoon. Worn thm uith usage since \-ictorian days And xrv. in tliat hour of other times she talks- Once tins cottage wa. the Man>e. she says' And the city reach'd not here to bar at all' mni IN AAir.KR LAXDS The Minister from hi^ Ion- cvcniiij,' walks; It vexes Irt In >ee hrick terraces i\o\v crouiiin.ir Vain^t the very orarden wall Where still his sunflower-^ j;ro\v, and hollvhocks. 195 xv. Ycstermorn with plaintive roundelav Came to our street the hnrdy-tjurdy man; The wheeling melody of his machine Gave color to my dreaminj; as ] lav, Remote as some Tihetan caravan. Or marvel once of Marco Polo seen Down jaded avenues of old Cathay. XVI. The rudest music heard thro' sleep is fine Beyond the reach of art or instruments ; With tuncfulest hii^di mastic I have crost Over the violet edije of lands divine. And lifting many jewcl'd trophies thence I wake with joy — but waking they are lost Along the dim dream-tangled horder line. XVII. A wind-swept common far from streets and towers I found to-day with thistles overrun ; The year is on the turn, the summer yields, The waning season all the air endowers With the deeper gold of our September snn. Reluctant yet to leave the long-loved fields, Now mauve and blue with elvish autumn flowers. i nilLliiiSfi 196 IN AMBER LANDS XV HI. For inc what remnant fate remains in store? Wliat (lull or useless cndincj will be mine? I count these days dctacli'd. this work unplaced, 1 know the best of mc has p:one before, And ail that youth once promis'd I resign; But lone on that allegiant floral waste I bared my head to Beauty evermore. XIX. And ^till -^hc comes to me, tho' I be old, Livinj^ in cover'd ways and namelcssly; And still her fields of amaranth await, And glorious across the manifold Dim valley> of the dead exalt I see Her azure gardens gleaming, and the great Marble towers of morning tipt with gold. tttm miiim Mnnir; HHiWr^ l.\ AMCER LANDS 197 CONTENT. But God stay?— tho' all el?e fail and fall ! He scciTi> .-omotimes a Playfellow of mine Who winks at nic and laiigli.^ — sometimes a fine Red Flame to ^Icriou^^ly destriiy: a Call To bring j^rcen World- ajijain : imnicmoral A M(H)d that \vakes in me: an Anodyne To soothe mc unto Death: a Sound divine: A dim enamour'd Silence under all. Amid the jar of things, and in wrong ways, I hurt mvsclf continually, and yet Withal I stand, and with fixt eyes forget The bitter iin fulfilment of my days. And feel my way to Him, content to let All else between my fingers slip — God btays! i*i »4.«#«««Mft* since VL-terday ! Tlic World hath nmkcn rr.vnd tnc. old and gray. To .omKl r,t cndk" htanr ■ "t wot- :— Dear God. U 1 could knnv.-co.ld .nly know Bevond the creed, and f.cbk- prayers they .ay That r mi'dil find \vm y.t in .ome sure way- How I would laugh again.t this Tomb below ! I've Inst the meaning of the words he said To ease niv h.art hefon: he pa^^'d from me: 1 walk the" ruin-d Earth in agony, \nd crv unto the Waste uncomforted : \croW the Mack.^n'd Skic. I start to see His name writ tlamingly— but he is dead! ^attUiii .wt n i nw M Mi i M>Hin i i » n ii iti i i t Mn »i rt»n » f tim*M>»i»MM4imn« ; LN AMBER LANDS 199 THE LAST SONG. Lone, Heart, lone! And the Gates are barr'd above! O Heart with my Heart alone ! Love ! II. Cease, Heart, cease! For the last red embers c^lcam! O Heart from thy sorrow cease ! Dicam ! III. Still. Heart, =till! God s night i? round us deep! O Heart to my Heart lie still '. Sleep ' ■t^H* '• •»*» •t«t»t««»«7ff«lt7tttT mniii .*■<■ f 200 IN AMiiEK LANDS NOTES. Ml U5NES0ME BAR. ■•Triple RoUlen ycnr-."— (Third stanza, fifth line.) — The Klntidikf i!iiMrii>h'. the yrcati'^t in lii-^tory. took place from 1S07 lo i<;()fj, diinni,' whicli ptriiul the Canadian North yielded :\'<\n ":w iu.iidrcil tndlioii dnilars ni placer yold. "On a 1 IV.'" -( Sixth staii/a. fir— .\ phrase originat- ir.i: peril, q- wtli ilic -cakrs of liehrini; St a, with whom it in, ml an a'l' ■\ ii'cc, ir. lieu of wa^'ii, of a certain percentage I'i the \-ilue of seal-^kins secured by the hunters. In mining I ,-irlance, to "work a claim on a lay" meant to have an agreed peri-eiita!_'e rf the clenn-tip or output. "I ni.ish'd aloncr." — (Ninth stanza, fifth line.'i — Mush— im -li or — c'lmipt^on of Frcnrh-Camdian "marchons," — the traveling' wor.'l fir men and dogs throughout the Canadian Nc-Ttli ai'ertnr< in mininp regions of the Far West carried with tl'eni a !i:m:! I'f ?oi;r-dntieh, in lieu of >Ta«t, for making camp- hre.ul. .iiid were duhhed "snurdotiplv." In the Yukon, how- c, ir. t' c t. rni was generally applied to tho«e who had 'ptnt 11 ctitiT winter in that region dnrinj; the first years of the >; ild-rn'-h. "Mac an Diaoul— BeishtaMor."— (Tlirty-?ivth ^tan^a. third line. )— Gaelic, meaning "The offspring of Satan — the Great Beast." "the d.\mo2EL of rooM." "Tlie peace of a thousand years." "The Abbot gr.ve mc inurh i;-!strrc;i'-n in m.'.lters cf re- ligion. One dav, in a d'.-^.^ur^c on ft'nc'.ameiiial virtue, which I found difticult. he •'■uchcd at sciiic lenfrih on the nature and j^t>WM!^*MMInk*>tt( IX .\Mr.i:R LANDS 201 rondiffon.^ of n.ll A,„i l rrnKm!..r. u, dccnhtn^ tho,c rs uito the 1 aradiso of the We,-,t as natural'y as a b.ittcrtly ri-cs from the chrysrdis. I!ut luvini; atiainid thi^ Mat,., .-,n,l feehng su- preme relief from nrrnt pnjn and horror, they are prone to rinnin inactive, hecnu- KtlmrKie, and are >n. n .aeio.nie bv the delicicii- atmosphere of the pl.ice. .\iid i\vj> they he pe.icefiiny I'ltoxicite.! for a tlims.-md \rar>;. 'Ilien the'r lives end. I!Mt the root e -euro of tli.'Mi all, I v\,is told, i^ drawn upon a^Miii hy miluence-, ever seekiiiL- occ.iMon for iinarnation. And so. Ill l.iniliM, ,i\v.iit;ng tlie birth coiulit'oiu i| bv their divers natures, thev and all m.innpr of planrtirv life 'rrmiin ni s,,sp,.„-^., ]]\i^^. (,, ,i,p clojuN in the skv. ulrcirawait nppor- I'lnity for re;iirn to f^artli in endless drops (,f rain."— 77i^ Teaching of Tao. F.nv. Fey: literally "On the wnj," •'Dcitli-boind." A Saxon word denoting a Celtic mood. One who not only realizes him- ^elt on the ine\ liable \\;;y. but throuKli some ii'iuisital experi- ence m some instant if iinie. has u.-,U, red !o an alii n, in- explicable K.xistence that leaves hini bewildeie"!. to,.Iishty inditf( rmt. madly imperM>naI. to the concerns of Ln",-. ^\^[^ the Highlander the fnll meaning of the term is not expressed in either of the foilowinR passaj;e>. but it Inrks heiwdn them: "'Ihc Scotch peasants have a word th;'.t mitjht be .ippli'-d to every existence. In their lei;cnds tiny tjive i-".-y' t > llie fr.iine f)f mind { :dl help and advice, is forced by some irresistible impulse toward some inevitable c.it.istroplie. It is thus th.it James I— the James of Catherine Doiigl.is — nas 'fey' when hi- went, notwifhstatuliuR the terribb' omens of earth, heavi n and bell, to spend the Christmas holidays in the gloomy castle of Perth, where his assassin, the traitor Robert Graeme, lay in wa't for h\rr\"—\faHri-c Mnrtcrliiu-k. **A rnerni3.ifnckiii cra/y. aiul fi'in tlirrrrfor- \var