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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film^s en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'Impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur (a dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols -^> signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s A des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film* A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 B, * = \ SONGS OF THE CASCADES. / SONGS OF THE CASCADES. FIRST PART. BY ERL VIKING LONDON: HORACE cox, WINDSOR HOUSE. BHKAM'S BUILDINGS, K.C. 1894. [All rifrhts reserved.^ H LONDON; PRINTED BV HORACE COX. WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM's BUILD.NGK, E.C. DKDICA T/OX, SONMET. Ui'ON ihc fingers of this sin-le h.iiul I reckon o'er your names, and write the five— Vea, grave them— on my soul, where thev shall live I hrough all the ages. In the deathless land— Ah, gone before three of your number stand : <) comrade-voices of the air and wave, N(nv bear, I pray vou, these poor rlnnies I weave I () those on Earth- to diose who harp IJeyond. <> my beloved, most constant and most true I by hearts no time or sjKice hath power to shake • I bree angels watching me from 3'onder blue Fwo others where Atlantic surges break, These rude, wild songs I dedicate to you, 1-orgive their faults, receive them for my sake. November 22, 1892. CONTENTS, Part I. — Miscellaneous. To "Vega" page i •O Temporal" 3 An Appeal Case (Lillooetj 5 A Fighter Who Fell ........ 8 Fall In! „ Seaton River 13 The Raid: a Ballad 14 Habet! 17 Individuus 10 ICgomct 20 (^uorsum .? 22 An Assignation 23 The Deaths of Tristram and Iseult 24 M. P. C. In Loving IMemory 27 Reward 20 A Flight *.".".'.'.'.' 30 A Memory ^2 Two Barrack-room Ballads- I. The Escalade 33 II. Storm at Daybreak 35 Never Again 37 Viii CONTENTS. \'cilecl 1)0 your Light fut^irc 38 Infiniti Alii Mundi 39 Delilah 40 For His Kinj"^ 42 Faces 44 A Mountain Vigil. Sonnet 47 A Tale of Blood 4S Mr. Saunders' Lament. (A secjuel to "A 'JaK- of IJlood") 56 To^Capella" (L) 59 Mr. Doolan's Lament Co A Wail from New Westminster 63 "Where Shall We Lay I lim? ■■ 65 Cast Out : a Fragmenf 6f» Crowned ! 6S To'^Capella" (IL) 69 At Lillooet, August 8th, 1892 70 Fight On ! 73 Some Friends 74 The Post Bag 76 Bellona's Darlings 77 Tramps 80 To " Hortensia ' 82 Retrorsum 83 To "Thalia" 85 To ]\Iy Harp 88 To the Honourable 89 They Hang their Harps where Roses Twint* . . 90 A Song : fwf of the Cascades 92 C().yn:.v7\s\ j^ A Milk* (iainc ... a . , - In I ornients ... Some 1 raitors . . biKill It l)c ever thus while Time iloth last ? . 102 To '^Montreal " " ^^^ " Review of Reviews," October 15, 1892 ... 107 Part III. — Sketches and Portraits. " The Silent Sisters " , , , A Portrait .... , . ... . 112 A Portrait. Sonnet .... ,,, A Sketv.il .... A Sketch Ill A Sketch ... ,,^ 1 20 The Leader of the Har ,22 An Archdeacon . . A Sketch ".'.'.'.* * ■ * ,27 On the Mill Bridge, Lillooet. Sonnet ,20 A Little Incident ^ Some Pharisees : a Fragment 122 A Sketch ^ Perdita ... '^^ 134 Part IV.— From the Syriac. (In Three P'ragments). Fragment I. . ^^ • •• 156 » I" 165 ^ CONTENTS. Part v.— SERioirs. Two Sonnets on Death y^^,^,^ ,^. To a Prodigal '\ 187 Chained to the Oar 180 A Rough Parallel. Sonnet ..... jgo Undique lyi At Last . . . 192 pa^ire 185 . . 187 . . 189 . . 190 . 191 192 CORRIGENDA. Page 36, verse 3, line 3, for " ? " put " ! " Page 57, verse 7. line 2. for " Tis true I said." read " But yet 'tis true." Page 78, verse 3, line 2, for " O " read " great." Page 104, verse 6, line 6, for " brave " read "great " Page 126, verse 3, line 5, for " may " read " shall." Page 159, line 3, /or " doth " read " shall." Page 159. line 8, for " doth send " read "hath sent " PART I. M I S C G D I; H n G O tr S SONGS OF THE CASCADES. TO - VEGA." I. No light ; unbroken hangs the gloom Overspreading all the Infinite; Strikes not one ray to guide me home, My soul-star, where art thou to-night ? II. Light breaks ; (), fairest of the fair, Queen of the mansioned realms on high, J5weet Vega, hearest thou my prayer ? ^Iv godiless, answ 'rest thou my cry ? III. So lone, so pure, so far above Surrounding stars you calmly shine, I concentrate on thee my love. Star of my heart, for ever mine. B TO "VEGA.' TV. I long to burst the bonds of Karth As, gazing on thee from afar, Throbs in my soul the dawning birth VVhicli draws that soul to thine, mv star When borne on the luminous wings Of endless h'fe I sweep through space, l.oved Vega, strike thy lyre's sweet strings And guide me to thine arms' embrace "O TEMPORA! )) I. Weary of men I crept unto \\\\ feet, Craved of thy ^^race a little spot to rest, And, smiling, lo ! thou caught'st me to thy breast. Fair Nature, refuge of the desolate : II. Thy presence fills my spirit in vast nights When from the steel-blue sky the shafts of frost Smite the sad Earth, o'er whose white face are tossed Roseate saffron waves from Northern li«dits : III. The grip of Winter tightens on the Land ; Silence o'er all, not death itself more still ; Save when the fettered lake, invincible. Thunders against th' oppressor's icy hand. But, see, across the great Cascades there come Extending fleece clouds. Spring's fleet skirmishers (), hark, the music in the pines, soft airs Scent laden, from the far Australian foam ; B 2 ••O TEMPORA!" V. And Spring sweeps in with sunburst and witli song Full on fierce Winter, smiling as she smites : Back fall the snows to the eternal heights, The border-land beyond which harps are strung. VI. I revel in thy roses, burning June, Watch thy brief star-shine cross the short divide. See the swift Day through Night's frail leaguer glide On Morning's wings of crystal, to her throne. VII. Dearest art thou, () Autumn ; o'er the plain, On mountair. lake, and river Nature's love Showers upon her darling from above Her gifts, and gives again and yet again : VIII. The tempered sunshine, th' enraj)tured night, The radiance of russet, green, and gold That deck sweet Karth ; the wondrous mists that fold Morning and evening in translucent light : IX, Thy glory waneth ; yet to me more dear The hour of thy remembrance and regrets; Beneath thy withered leaves and violets Lie buried, memories of davs that were. I AN APPEAL CASE (Lillooet, August, i(le 3ld I. "Captain,"' he said— he spoke in the Chinook—* " I want to talk with you a little while : " His eye was troubled, and his calm voice shook, Although his grave face wore its courteous smile. An Indian — 1 have known him long and well — John Bull his name, and this his tale of hell : II. '' My brother George, his girls, and his wife Last April on liridge river mined for gold : Captain, all gone— all killed— killed with a knife ; Long time I wait, my lieart is very cold ; And you do nothing, you arrest no man. Why is this. Captain ? Tell me if vou can." III. Tastest thou not, my soul, some bitterness, What time Earth's sorrow-laden, full of care, Look to me impotent, in their distress } — The jar^'on invented by the Hudson's Hay Company to facilitate intercourse with the tribes. AN APPKAL CASR. V'^cga, as I look up to ihec, my star — To mc, mere cartli worm, clod of useless clay, Who, wrath at heart, nuist send them crushed away. IV. Murder most foul. The family had ^mne ; Their tent left stand in o * IV. And tell her to the last my heart was true ; rhat ever in that heart she reigned the first, I b ough all the guilt ; tell her_0 fate accu sed- i>he never understood, she never knew : c i8 HABET! V. Can never know, mine own, until we meet Where soul is bared to soul, as face to face ; Then I will tell thee all, and for thy grace, Darling, entreat thee, kneeling at thy feet. I INDIVIDUUS. I. Darling, how can we part ? O Death draws near Kiss me, enfold me closer still, mine own • Come with me, dearest, then I shall not fear ; Love, thou wilt never let me -o alone ? II. Together, still together, side by side ; Thy throbbing pulses beat response to mine. \i this be death, 'tis rapture to have died Heart unto heart, thus, in a dream divine III. Floating away upon a silver sea, Drifting far out beyond the earthly bars U look, beneath us lie our cells of clay Around us. Love, the white, immortal stars. V. 2 EGOMET. I. Leave me to bear my load alone, I crave no sympathy, To march until the ni^dit has gone. Face set towards the rising sun In immobility. II. Alone, alone ; my hand, indeed, Pwer outstretched to aid. Heart open to a brother's need — Go, for thine own in silence bleed- Heart, on thyself be stayed. III. The friend to whom my soul was given, When flashed the morning light ; Whose love was as the love of Heaven, Failed and betrayed me ere the even Had darkened into night. EGOMEr. 21 IV. And one still clearer. O she sleeps Where western cedars wave • O'er her lone grave the sea-bird weeps, Round her the broad Atlantic sweeps^ Through coral reef and cave V. Tlien forward to the welcome end VVhate'er that end may be ; God and my own stout heart defend • Fight on, nor fear what Fate may send, At last comes victory. QUORSUM ? 1 ^ III If '! I I. Love on, love on while yet you may, Burning and brief Love's rose-strewn way. And moths have wings, and wings will stray " Did ever kiss So sweet as this Betray ? Nay, dearest, nay." II. Fight on, fight on while yet you can, Your plumed crest blazing in the van. Fight ever till the victory's won. What was His word ? " No peace ; a sword, O man, I send." Fight on. \A V I LV. AN ASSIGNATION. Not yet ; there is something still to he done • With the amethyst dawn or evening grey On December's snows, or odours of June On the shining paths of the summer sea ' Or the heaving track of the stormy moon ; I shall he ready, sweet Death, when you come, I am weary for home ; ^or my Love in the star-lighted depths on hi^^h For the peace and the rest of Eternity. THE DEATHS OF TRISTRAM AND ISEULT. I. i Miii Fallen ! He, the invincible, Fell in battle for Brittany : For Arundel Sir Tristram fell. Peerless champion of chivalry. IL " Friend of my soul, loyal and true, Bear this message, my Kursenal, Fleet as falcon never yet flew To my own Iseult of Cornwall : in. •' Tell my lov(; that her Tristram dies ; Holds dark Death for a space at bay, Craves one kiss, one glance of her eyes, Then in peace he can pass away : IV. " White as sea-mew's breast be your sail So my lady come to my prayer ; Black as the raven's if she fail. So I die in my dark despair." AND THE DBA ms OF TRISTRAM A !VB ISEULT. .>, V. Pillowed at casement Tristram lay Dim were the eyes that wistfully' Swept the waters beyond the l)ay Mourned his lost love over the' sea VI. Stricken with sorrow couched Hodain ; Trembled in sheath the mighty sword ; \Va.ledm the night a dying strain l^rom the harp his spirit adored. VII. Day dawned fair upon sea and land • Broadened o'er field and foam the' light • Spake Iseult of the snowy hand ' "Breaks a black sail out of the night " VIII, Swift sped death from the lips that lied- Vain, false lips, your desolate wail : Back came Ivursenal on that tide White as the breaker's crest his' sail IX. Beats her step on the marble stair Bidding from none Iseult doth wait : Rings her anguished cry of despair, 1 ristrani, my soul— too late— too late." 26 THE DEA THS OF TRISTRAM AND ISEULT. I 4 X. Ah, the sorrowful lives found rest ; Parting ended, surcease of pain ; There she died— from her Tristram's breast Never the fair head rose again. I r. H. P. c. Died 15TH August, 1S92. IN LOVING MEMORY. The silver cord is loosed ; no more on mountain or by river He marks the covey, casts across the tide, And with the racing pack again, O never. When Autumn's leaves have fallen, shall he ride. Smote hath Death's sword. II. Faith sheds no tear For the old friend, so faithful and so true ; She hends o"er that which yesterday was ** thee,'' Then soars her beaming eye beyond the Blue hx\i .hrills her seraph-voice, "O comfort ye, Behold him there." III. Smile on, bright Faith ; Litde thou giv'st me ; naaght thy sister flcp.^ Save blasted hopes ; we stand beside his bier She, his beloved, and I ; hands clasped, we stoop 3ver him with rent hearts, weep tear for tear, Around us, Death. \w 28 H. P. C. IV. Deathless lives on That hour, till love and memory shall fail ; And so, we buried our noble dead. Dry the vain tear and cease the bitter wail ; This, this alone, remaineth to be said, " Thy will be done." REWARD. I THREW my harp upon the floor at night, And in my visions I beheld it hung ^ High amongst harps, whose mighty masters flung Their glorious music to the reahns of hght : Then spake a sweet voice: - Mortal, thou may'st name Thine own reward ; say, shall I give thee fame, Renew thy youth, strcu- it with roses bright, Bind on thy brow this wreath with loud acclaim, And set thee on Parnassus' radiant height ?" But I laughed sadly: Nay, () grant me rest. 1 ill then, if my poor song should yieltl delight To one sad heart ; restore to clearer sight One tear-dimmed eye; relieve one soul oppressed • Enough reward, enough 1 shall be blessed. ^ A FLIGHT, O HERALDS from the Northern Pole, Borne on the blanching Northern blast, Home strikes your message to my soul At last, at last. II. And now I watch with wistful eye Your phalanx stream across the day, Spear-headed, cleaving through the sky Its purposed way : III. No skulking swerve to left or right. No coward fear, no falt'ring faith. Straight to the goal speeds on your flight, Come life, come death. IV. Southward the steadfast squadron sweeps, Gleams on its files the setting sun, Rings its wild challenge through the deeps, " Forward, fight on." i| A FLIGHT. 31 V. Down swoops a darkness palpable, Around, beyond, no light to guide; On ! your indomitable will Intensified. VI. Sudden, the shroud is rent apart. Across your path Orion swings, ' Day shoots her pearly shafts athwart Your throbi)ing wings, VII. That through new realms shall nightly pass, Vast calms where never thunder rolled ; Until beneath the Southern Cross At rest they fold ; VIII. And guided by a wondrous hand Shall find on some fair sapphire sea A haven in the Silent Land " Where thou wouldst be. i I A MEMORY. I. Down in the deeps when a heart lies wrecked There it buries itself in j)ride ; To Heaven, its tears unseen, unchecked, Bars and ice unto all beside : Friendships and loves to faggot and stake, Heart, bend over the ashes and break. 11. Over an ocean and continent, l^ackward, across the tide of years, O Heart, too late thy remorse is sent ; Vain, repentance and burning tears; For the noble friend and love that died Slain on the altar of cursed pride. \vc ed riVO B A RRACK.ro OM BALLADS, an'd w".'"' ''^-^'^^^^ '^^' ^^"-- -ho. the writer knew BALLAD I.^THE ESCALADE. I. " Give me a hundred volunteers ! " The Colonel's voice rang out • Begad you might have heard our cheers rrom Cork to Lilliput * "There's something up," says Sergeant Joyce; His face is full of fight " ■• J > We storm the Fort to-night, my boys. And in we go to-night. II. " f«" out,- our Captain says to me- We called liim " Uosie Bell ■'+ His heart was kind, his hand was free 1 lie Light fiohs loved him well • JJvide„„y the nana.or i. a studen, of Z^^Z^^^:::~'^X " f/ntjS," wi7hT&;;: ':^^^;: '^^ «"«> .he Co,„„e. -(Author's note.) elc vancy except as to the adjective. i ■ i i 34 TWO BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. With cheek so smooth and lisping voice — Himself's the girls' delight. " Forlorn hope's '' our name, my boys- Show 'em the way to-night. III. Fear .? — fear be blowed ! But I confess Old fancies round me came, I thought of Kate 1 used to kiss At the thorn by the stream ; Of home and its innocent joys, Mother, with hair so white — I sent to Heaven above, my boys, A bit of a prayer that night. IV. We mustered ere the moon had set, I watched her as she sank ; I think I see the Captain yet Inspect us, rank by rank ; No lisping now ! Stern came his voice — His face with fire alight — " The .steel ! the steel alone, my boys. And send it home to-night." V. So in we went, dead silent till There suddenly arose A rocket from the Fort, and — well It just was Hell broke loose ; TWO BARI^ACK.ROOM IULUDS. But down the ditch tlic ladders swun^ And clieering up we mount- While loud the Ca])tain's order rung My stormens ! to the front!" vr. No firing, men ! the bayonet ! "* With hearts athirst for blood We swept them from the parapet As sweeps the lightning cloud. 1 111 on the crimson sod, beneath The crimson morning li(rht We stood, in life_or lay, in death The victors in the fight. Z5 BALLAD II. -A STORM AT DAY-BREAK. From Ecclesiasticus, chapter xxiv., verse 24. '^ ^ThJT^" ""' ^''^'' '''^'''' ^^'•^"•^ '■" the Lord, 1 hat He may confirm you cleave unto Him - Where is my battle flag ? give me my sword- Soon shall your bayonets- burnish be dim • Jor the Lord Almighty is God alone,' And besides Him other Saviour there's none " ^h^i^t'^'Z^r^^^'''''^.^' ^he ranks of that ilay.) 1) 2 p 36 TWO BARRACK-ROOM BALLADS. II. Praise I Tim, Who Icacheth our lingers to li^ht, Who formed us the rapture of battle to feel ; Forwanl, men ! See, there's the first streak of light. Follow me, stormers, and give them the steel ! " For the Lord Almighty is (Jod alone. And besides Ilim other Saviour there's none." III. Never a thought but to close with the foe. Fight for us, God of Sabaolh, we pray; Up the breach, rush 'cm lads ! a/ them we go ? — His the glory who's first on the ramparts to-day; " For the Lord Alrnighty is (Jod alone, And besides Him other Saviour there's none." I. )f light, id ! none. N£:y£/^ AGAIN, day ; none' I. Never again to watch one white sail, growing Nearer and nearer o'er the crested sea • Beneath the western blaze the billows glowin.^ Down on the laughing winds he sends his wodng He comes to me. II. O days, ye days when Life's sweet morn shone o'er us Ashes the mem'ries on your dead sea shore- ^uned the radiant hoj.es that beamed before us i'pent the swift tide that on its bosom bore us Wailing, " No more." VEILED BE YOUR LIGHT. Veiled be your light, ye sorrowing stars, Moan low, O sea. Locked be yc winds within your bars ; Flow silently My blinding tears, Through all the years Till dawns Eternity. . II. But glory fills the holy night. Rolls the proud wave, From mansions of the Infinite Be}ond the grave, Thrills his sweet voice, " O Love, rejoice, No tears. I died to save. III. " I fell on the field of my fame For home and thee ; Evermore shall ye h;i)low my name, Harps of the free. Foremost 1 fell. No tears, but tell ' He died for Land and me.' " ill INFINITI ALII MUNDI. I. And hast thou gone Without a parting wo: d, or trace, to tell me Whither to send my soul in search of thine > Although thou knewest how I should bewail thee Although thou saidest that thy heart was mine,' And mine alone. II. Gone ! and O where ? Hearest thou not ? Art thou not faint with waiting l^or the entwming arms, the meeting eyes ? Thrill not thy pulses at my soul's entreatin^r Know'st thou not that the love which never dies Awa: s thee here? III. Ah, dearest Love, Thou comest not ; yet, hark ! thy voice is speaking Its music breathes around me where I stand It sighs, " My darling, haste ! my heart is breaking Until you kiss me in th' eternal Land Of stars above." '! i DELILAH. I. The mighty brain th sways the world to-day, The voice upon whose utt'rance nations wait, The eyes v/hose glance a milHon swords obey, The hand whose touch can guide the wheels of fate. II. In the dim, vast to-morrow where are they ? In that unknown, upon whose edge we dwell, Strewn thick with noble fronts and feet of clay, Seek for the great who stumbled ; there they fell. III. Gods ! what a charnel field : behold the ghouls Rending with reeking claw and gibb'ring beak The bleeding reputations, while the fools With platitudes around the victims sneak. * * * IV, O noble heart, so well beloved of all ; And in thy ruin dearer to me still, That, when high Fortune's sm'le imperial Lighted thy j)athway, heraUled thy will. DELILAH. V. 41 And she ? She cahnly watched the torturers Heaping fresh fuel on the furnace pile • ' So gazed Delilah on that work of hers When the shorn soldier fJl beneath her cruije * * vr. To fall in fight. glorious destiny • Beyond, th' echellonM squares immovable • Behmd, his squadrons charging knee to knee' At Death, confronting on the serried steel VII. Or had he fallen, first, in that wild race When o'er \Var\s death-divide the stormers strive 1 he light of battle fiaming on e: :h face- - O men, in that short span a lifetime \\^ VIII. No to hnn came such boon ; he fell, vet lived • iiroken his honour, blasted his career And of the glorious wreck alone survived The courage that had never quailed in fear Shame smote, then pitiful drew back again, Before the sad smile of that steadfast eve • Covered with genl.e hand her fatal stain, ' ' And left him in his loneliness to die. ' FOR HIS KING. I. Well he knew his hour had come, Knew it was the last " good-bye ! " Lovely looked the dear old home — Round its windows roses sigh — Hushed beneath the star-lit sky ; Stars that quivered mournfully, Stars that watched him tenderly. Riding forth to die. 11. Looked his last upon her face, Laid his last kiss lovingly On her lips, from her embrace Tore himself ; despairingly Rang her broken-hearted cry, Yet with calm and steady eye And unshaken constancy He rode out to die. It FOR HIS KING, 43 III. " We shall meet again, sweet Love, Where ixo sorrow cometh nigh ; Mine the glory far above Earthly pomp and vanity: Perish all but loyalty ! " Pealed his death-song proud and high As he passed exultingly For his King to die. ili I I! FACES. Out through the pitiless caverns of Night Wandering far, Seeketh my soul in vain its beacon-light, Its guiding star. II. Yet sometimes hover in the chill, sad mist Faces oft seen In the old days ; loved faces I have kissed In the " Hath-been." III. Faces of angels who on Earth have trod ; Some still remain ; Some stand before the great white throne of God Souls without stain. IV. Faces of friends whose hearts were knit to mine When life was young ; For whom amidst the roses and the wine INIy harp was strung. FACES. 45 Faces all seared and scarred with pangs of Hell- Once, O how fair — Furrowed with woes no Lethe can dispel Surround me here. VI. But ever, vainly, do I seek to trace In all this crowd, Seek, O how longingly, one lovely face Serene and proud. VII. Across my mem'ry floats the field's i)erfumo Breaks the calm day, Sounds Earth's reveille round the darkened Where my Love lay. room VIII. Without, the thrushes' songs to Heaven ascended Trilled the glad lark ; Within, her soul its silent, far flight wended Into the dark. Ill IX. And though I followed fast, vainly for trace Of my lost Love, Ever I seek through boundless realms of space Around, above. * 46 F^CES. X. Lo ! breaks the light, breaks song with mightier ro^I 1 hen surging sea ; At last, sweet Love, at last soul claspeth soul Eternally. i 1 ( SONNET. A MOUNTAIN VIGIL. Here, my beloved, on thy throbbing breast. Where the vast pulses of the summer night' Speak to my soul from out the Infinite, Here, in the Light of God, I lie at rest'; Great Aldebaran blazes in the East, And all the morning stars foretell the flight Of this supreme hour of prophetic sight '^ When only to exist is to be blessed. Foretaste of Heaven ! but yesterday I stood Below there in the little world of men, A part of, yet apart from, all the crowd ; And now ! not more the separation, when Death shall enfold me in his shining shroud, And in that star-shine lay me down again. J' 8 i.> J " ! I 1 t i I ' A TALE OF BLOOD. Viator : " The crime, you say, was never brought to light ? " RusTicus : " To light, but not to Justice ; or to speak Closer, the sword was bared and turned aside. Here is the place." Viator: "Almost 1 recognise The scene from your description. 1 have here The verses which you sent me : tluis they run : Reads — ' A lonely log-house by a rushing stream ; Round it the giant pines stood motionless In that calm summer morning's holy beam, Their mighty arms outstretched as though to bless; Watching the stately centuries sweep by, Borne on Time's billows to Eternity. * About their boles the forest flowers bloomed. And flashed the flood of myriad insect life ; Yet hell was there — fell murder's shadow loomed Over that house ; hideous, unequal strife ■1 1 A TALE OF HLOOD. 4«> Raised its red hand to mar that scene so fair JMuod lin-ed the sunshine, tainted the sweet air. '" RusTicus : ''Tell me, Viator, hast thou never felt Sharj) premonition of imi)endin<; doom ? • Viator : " Nay, Rusticus : and hold such idle thoui,dits Disorders of di,^:estion, or vexed brain/' Rusticus : " I have felt flash within, a subtle spark, When, midst the crowd, some face hath caught mine eye ; And a sweet warning voice hath whispered ' Mark That man, and hold him as thine enemy.' Unquestioning, I say ' A rattlesnake !— Praise be to Vega ! ' She it was who spake." V lATOR : {coutinues readimr) "'Warn them, () C1n-ist, those children, and their sire Ciainst him who, at the fall of eventide, Had^ sought their hearth, sal by the evening fire, Who now breaks fast among them, side V side ; See him! cup half raised, fork poised, listening, A human tiger crouching for his spring. E I so A TALE OF BLOOD. Ilarkening — damned fiend ! — the sifj^nal from his mate : He — so their plot was laitl, each detail planned — Leaving his den at day-dawn, should await Without, the bolder murderer's command. Their motive ? It was double. Lust of gold And malice seething in their hearts, of old.' Viator [continues) : ** * Partly from evidence 1 tell the tale, Partly from knowledge not in evidence; On some points, immaterial, the trail Is indistinct. There I draw inference* Of facts material, nothing I infer — The bloody record stands distinct and clear." Viator [loq.) : " Mv Rusticus, how cometh it vou hold Within your bosom matter undisclosed In evidence .?" Rusticus: " Nay, you misapprehend. * Knowledge,' I said, not ' secret ' ; it is shared By all around ; not put in evidence Through gross neglect, rank inexperience, The blundering of honest, brainless fools — Provincial Dogberrys ; Justices of Peace — Drunken, illiterate, marks for public scorn — * E.g., "Cup half raised, fork poised, listening." passages are inferential. Such Such A TALE OF BLOOD, 51 Placed on Commission to secure their votes, Or else in payment of the votes they p^ave. Thus prostituted is this oflice hi^h To vile political expediency. " RusTicus {loq.) : " My God ! V^iator, I consume within ! This coil required a man of brains, cool, brave, As lightning sutlden, as the sleuth-hound keen, And secret as the bowels of the grave. Christ ! between blunderers antl knavish crew, The noose was slacked, the murderers slipped through." Viator {reads on) : " ' The sire fell to a bullet from his rear — Father above ! they cut the young girl's throat! Beneath the house a cellar lav, and there They flung the corpses. The poor child had fought Hard for her feeble life, and left the trace Of nails scored deep upon one murderer's face.* Then they secured his gold, in eagles, allf — He loved the noble coin, as men well knew — * On the face of him who had slept in the house — the Scotch- man. It was inferred that she was spared for a brief space that she might disclose the repository of her murdered father's money. And I accept the inference, having no desire to send out conjecture in search of additional horrors. f The American gold coin, value twenty dollars : into these Poole converted his silver at every opportunity. E 2 f. 52 A TALE OF RLOOD. (At trial, here some bunglinji^ wo-'k befel Twixt fools and scounilrels, Christian and Jew*). And then they fired the house, the i)l()ody reek Went up to God. (), if these pines could speak !" Viator {cojitinues reading) : '* * Tinder, the dry old ; use ; above the ground Naught save charred embers presentlv remained. But when susj)icion woke, the seekers found Father's and daughter's corpses — seared, blood- stained, But unconsumed — within the cellar laid, Earth-sheltered; so the grave gave up its dead.' ' Viator (/^«/.) ; '* Here ends, my Rusticus, your manuscript. Complete, I pray, the bloody narrative." Rusticus : " Hut little more remains. One was arraigned. And tried for murder of the sire alone. f * Which of the twain } ' you ask me. He it was Who slept beneath the roof, a Scotchman he, * The Scotchman displayed some twenty dollar pieces— the coin is rare in the interior. He said that he had received them from one Budwick, a Jew of Lillooet, a money lender. Budwick stated that he had supplied him with money, but not in that coin. It would appear that he was not nailed hard and fast to this evidence at the preliminary invesliyation. At one of the trials — the second 1 think he "doubled;" under what influence it is impossible to say. t This of (-ourse was riyht ; though acijuiited of the murder of the father, he can be tried for that of the dausi'hter. A TALE OF BLOOD. 53 'Gainst him convincing proof ; hut round him drew Some Scots, and loud proclairied his innocence. ' A Scot a murderer ! Cursed he he who saith ! ' Thus thev aroused that maudUn sympathy Of which Earth's larp^e majority of fools And feehlc hack-honed drivellers ever keeps A never-failinji; stock on hand. They fling Their mischievous, weak pity forth, hroadcast. Their hahhle falls upon the duU-hrained crowd. As drops from cave-roof on the sand heneath. And saturates with falsehood all the mass. In vain the Judge condemns, the twelve wise men"*'" Acquit, release Harahhas, who goes forth At first with head downcast, and slinkinu: eve ; But when he finds the hase and mean flock round, Each jostling each in eagerness to grasp The crimson hand, late paddling in the hlood Of slaughtered innocents and fellow man, He lifts the low, flat crest and crafty gaze — Tiger all over, in the act to spring — Whines of his sorrows, losses, Gotl knows what ; Until, hv Heaven ! the assassin crawls ■ i [■ M II H * The Scotchman only was tried. The Crown servants failed to secure evidence ayainst the American siiHicient to indict him, thoutjh evidence most ample was within the irrasp of any keen and resolute man— evidence a>jfainst both beyond hope of escape. Ihe Scotchman was thrice tried, tvto juries disaj^reed, the third trial resulted in an acquittal. Ihe opmion of each of the three judtjes who presided at the trials is an open secret; indeed, the juilije who sat upon the last trial left nothini; to be inferred as to his opinion when the jury returned a verdict of " Not f^uiity." V > 54 A TALE OF BLOOD. Into the public service of the State, As a mere labourer, I grant, but still* No less the shame, since honest men are forced To suffer contact with a murderer Escaped with life, but branded as a Cain. Against his fellow scarce a proof was found, Naught but suspicion, doubled-dyed indeed, But still suspicion only ; and yet he, Haunted, perchance, more vividly by fear, ' * Understand : a Government labourer receives pay at the rate of ten shilling's and five pence daily. Out of this he " finds " himself; also work ceases for the winter months in the interior; but it is a capital billet, and much soucfht after. It is a jjrave scandal the employment of this man by the lands and works department. Of course the Chief Commissioner knows nothiner about it, or probably he does not. In one fi^aol in which the accused men were confined they were permitted free intercourse with each other, and 1 believe — but of this I am not certain — with the world at lartje. The body of the younijer child, the boy, was destroyed beyond identification. After the acquittal of the Scotchman it came into the minds of some of the men who had procured it, that they could not well sit tlown ; they had stepped into crime and must wade on, Alecto and her sisters drivincf them. They beg'an by asserting- that the deed had been done by Chilcoten Indians. Next they arrested an Indian called Hunter Jack on the suborned prattle of an Indian woman living- with a sympathetic friend of the Scotchman. A sympathetic justice of the peace issued a warrant for this poor Indian's arrest. He was taken through the country in irt)ns, was brought before this J. P., and was remanded from time to time for many weeks upon a story which should not have kept a wolf in confinement for an hour. Of course the Indian was never brought to trial. A second J. P. at last appeared on the scene, and by his interposition the unhappy Indian was discharged. — K. V. A TALE OF BLOOD. Or less sustained by nerve and circumstance, Skulks with the prowhng wolf abroad by niirht And, wolf-like, shuns by day the haunts of men." " My tale is done. ^ ^ Awake! Arise, O GoH ! Reacheth not to Thine ear the cry of blood ? Is It not time Thy right arm's vengeance fell, And smote these devils down to their own hell -" 55 h n MR. SAUNDERS' LAMENT. THE SEQUEL TO "A TALE OF BLOOD:' I. vSair could I <^^reet ! Hcch ! Tonald, mon, Dor aiffoorts maist nawtoreeouslee Have failed : Speer oot the whusky can, Ail)lins ye'll drink a drap \vi" me ? II. An' wad ye ken the bluidie slain, The lees, the pairjuree an" a' We smoored oorsels \\'\ — a' in vain — To save a murd'^rer frae the la' ? III. Na, Tonald, na, 1 wrang oorsels, Pv tarn ! we wass mair wide awake ; Sure — hoot ! ma [)oosum ])roodly swells, We did it for auld Scotland's sake. IV. When he wass taen we cursetl fu' lood, Fu' lood proclaimed his eenocence, An' swoor na Scotchman e'er drew bluid Save in his native kin's defence. th /I//?. SAUNDERS' LAMENT. V. I ask ye cood we stooltifee Oorsels, or think o' reet or wrani- When we discoovered preesentlee '" The eevidence wass ower stran^r ? VI. They tried him ance, they tried him twice, The jooree could na a' agree, An' then py tam ! they triecFhim thrice— ''An' hanged him on the gallows tree?" VII. Na, na, ma freend, it wass na sae. 'Tis true I said we leed in vain : His life we held na worth a strae Had Scotland's name been saved frae stain. VIII. It wass na saved ! Through yon blue skies Up to the throne of (iod on high A brither's bluid for vengeance cHes, Ascends the slaughtered bairnie's cry. IX. Tonald ! their bluid is on ma han' : Yea. Tonald, on the ban's of a' Wha by that murderer took their stan', An' cheated justice an' the la'. 57 1 B'l I III t 'I ; ;8 MR. SAUNDERS' LAMENT. X. O God will not us geeltless hauld, I greatly fear me, in yon day When the last troompet-blast has rawled, An' Airth an' a' shall pass awpy. TO " CAP ELLA," The south wind sighs its soul upon the rose, ^ The ocean's rippling kisses woo the shore' Star for its star with passion throbs and glow's, O ! as my heart for thine. Love, evermore. ' Rent is the rose, the raging wind raves on ; Trembles the shore beneath the lashing 'wave • No star in all the storm-swept Heaven's crown And thou, () Love, art lying in the grave. m Sj ft \\--\ i* : III ■l iff III MR. DOOLAN'S LAMENT. At IJUooet, British Columbia, on ^rd May, 1S92, the Rev. Eufrene Chirousc, Roman Catholic priest, was tried before the Hon. Clement Francis Cornwall, County Court Judfje, for havinjT caused a younij" Indian ifirl to be strapped to her chemise and publicly -/.^'., in presence of the tribe — flojrtred with a raw hide whip ; he was convicted and sentenced to be imprisoned for one year. A point was reserved — a mere piece of 'professional by-play ; it was never arfjued. The Minister of Justice at Ottawa and the provincial Attorney-General were both Roman Catholics, and a pardon was secured. It would be interestinu" to know what repre- sentations were made to His P'xcellency the Governor-General. The Catholic vote is a iiieat power in Canada ; and, after all — // roas only nn Indian girl. I. Tare an' ages thin, Corny ! what's this that yez tell ? Be Saint Pathrick 'tis tirrible news ! Had thim Lillooet boys no rishpict onto Hell Whin they shut up good Father Chi rouse ? II. Tis mesilf would have loiked to have been in the Coort, He'd an iligant laryer ye say } Oi'd have given MacPh— lips me harty suppoort Av he'd wanted a foighter that day. Si MR, DOULAN'S LAMENT. 6i III. An' for batin- a .^url they throiccl that good praist !- iJid yez iver hear tell of the loike ' Shure it's proud ..V/ have been, not vexed in the laist, Av he d shtruck us, now wouldnt we,, .Moike ? IV Obsarve tins, me trinds, it dont matther a shtraw It his R,v nnce was wrong or was roight, i^ the)- poonish our praisthood for brakin" the law ^hure It s plain that 'tis done out of shj)oite ' ^^^^^^^::^^;^:^j^^:::::: "^^^^ «- ---^ to I. What tuk place at Weshtminsther Oi'll shortly ralate— 1 IS a roisin" young town be the sav— Shure MacP. is a laryer that cudnt be bate, He relased the good father to-day. II. Judge Walk-m tuk beal, sors, an" thin thev tuk lunch— Shure the Judge is a broth iv a boy— Whin Oi seen his Riv-rince injying his punch, 'J'he tears, Moike, kein into me o\c. \h ■A '! i • i ! 1 * r -1 1 62 MR, DOOLAN'S LAMEXT. III. " Take a glass, Mishter Doolan— or moight Oi say ' Pat ? '— b ) An' rapoort av Oi brewed it all roight;' Thin Oi tipped him the wink, " Trusi your lardship for that;' ' * Oi anshered him moighty purloite. IV. MacPh— lips, good luck to him, "s troying to prove I'he chiefs in ould toimes in thim lands. Used to flog, so his Riv'rince, in marcy and luv, Was intoitled to lay on his hands. Bad cess to thim hiritics, M— rt— y and all ; But be aisy, me boys, and liowld on, For thim voile parsecuthers 'ill crow moighty shmall Before D— vie and honest Sir John. A WA/L FROM NEW WESTMINSTER. BEING THE SEQUEL TO MR. DOOLAN'S LAMENT. I. Friends ! my heart is bowed with care By that father named Chi— ouse ; He shall wear a shirt of hair, Also pea,, within his shoes! n. Flogged a girl ?— flog a dozen ! 'Tisn't fhiU I'm vexed about ; If he flogged his aunt or cousin Deem not it would put me out III. Should we find that all our preachin- Cannot keep our flocks from sin "" There's another plan of teaching— We must whip religion in : IV. But we need not do it rashly, Neither with a trumpet sound • Neither— mark you this especi'ly- VVhen a bad J.P.'s around : ' iii ■I ■ il ^H A WAIL FROM NEW WKSTMINsrER. V. Chrousc, by nut ohscrvinir ilijs Slin euKTge M I 72 AT LILLOOET. X. From out the Eastern mountain's citadel And sail across a sea of thousand isles;* Blue sea — white isles ! .li^lory unsj)cakable My dull brain thrills : XI. Deep peace around : the distant river's roar Unlieard, as if had ceased its ceaseless strife ; I drank a drauglit divine in that sweet liour Of larjrer life. XII. O thought soared upward ; the soul winged its flight Into new realms beyond the night and day ; Sunk in the ocean of the Infinite All stains of clay : XIII. This stamm'ring tongue brake forth in noble song, A harp immortal in my hand I grasped, Loved lips, long lost, to mine enraptured clung, Arms round me clasped. XIV And tlien the \ision passed. O not in vain We soar above our Karlh, a little space, And catch a ray no night can veil again, No time efface. * Sth August, 1892 : Mars at his best, midway in the gap ; moon at the full ; she takes about two hours to cross from jaw to jaw, and then disappears behind the western. -li FIGHT ON/ I. The harp that sleeps forgot among The ruined halls that heard it last Again shall wake and breathe a song Divine, as in the glorious Past. Last night the eagle burst his chain, To-day he soars against the sun ; O coward, criest thou '' in vain " ; My brother, up ! fight on, fight on. II, In dust the dauntless heart may lie- Defiant, ever, to Despair ; The Hand that smote, from yon blue sky Is stretched and lifts the load of care. O, welcome at the Mercy seat Earth's outcasts stand, the vict'ry won; Let cravens crouch beneath defeat. But, brother, evermore fight on. I < SOME FRIENDS. T I. O I DO love ye : oft beneath your shade Catch, from your rugged strength, strength in my sorrow. Calm from your calm, what time L am afraid ; Learn how to face to-day, nor fear to-morrow. II. Steadfast — as England's men-at-arms of eld Breasted the battle's shock — immovable Ye stand, when o'er the mountain and the feld The hurricane rides forth to work its will. 1 I III. The tempest crashes round your noble heads, That sway, defiant, as it rushes past ; Fierce swing your mighty arms though some shreds Be shivered here and there before the blast. IV. Nor less I love ye in the summer eve When your long shadows lie athwart the hill, And vour low voices for Earth's sorrows grieve With me, the while they whisper " Peace, be still." SOME FRIENDS. 75 V. Great sentinels, what wondrous deeds ye see Ye mark the generations pass away ; Their dust lies thick around your feet, to ye A hundred years are but as yesterday. my ' I THE POST-BAG: A MEMORY. r. From IkMtie ! Joyously I break the seal, And then -the bursting hearts, the tears of blood ; The shattered lamp— the fallen star— life's road Darkened for ever. Woe uns})eakable. II. O last embrace. () then we rent apart. Upon his shivered shield this legend shone : " To man the crest unbowed ; to God alone Be bared the stricken soul, the broken heart." III. How shall we slake the thirst that never dies The longing to behold him once again— To tell him that despite of every stain Earth holds no other like him in our eves? BELLONA'S DARLINGS. xl; I MARVEL much how man of woman born, A man that is a man, can bear the weight Of rank and stars and crosses, won and worn* In courts and palaces, uncrushed bv scorn, Self-scorn, loathing, shame, yea, even self-hate. II. I've seen some men who ne'er had faced a sword,t Flbut those who'd drunk of battle to their fill ; * St. James* darlinfrs. I. t I saw one of these fellows turn away With (rather carefully concealed) disdain When an old war-dog- of the camps, one day In Presence most august, was heard to say A small cuss-word, the outcome of champagne. 11. That it wa- n it the thing, I quite admit, But surtlj' it vi'ould have been nicer far Had the stiiT ivt/,n said, "Come, old chappie, let Me take you *o ny den ; there we shall get A cooling cup to drink, and a cigar." ■.%. ^, v>: .0.>. ^'^^ ^< IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I ti^ 128 It) 25 2.2 1^ I4£ 1110 1.8 1.25 1.4 1 A .4 6" ► V] ^ /a ^% ->. '■> *;, ^^ 'W Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 873-4503 78 BELLONA'S DARLINGS. I've seen them flaunt theik feathered heads abroad, With eagles* who in crimson fields had soared, And plumed their bloody crests in rires of hell. III. little reck 1 of the rank or star, I love, indeed, to see them well bestowed, And well they sit on ye, O Lights of War, Whose " Stormers to the front! " hath rung afar, As o'er the death-divide the way you showed. IV. Free be my harp ^3 censure or to praise, I crave no gifts or favours, fear no frown, 1 sing because it fires my blood to raise A song of fighters, and of battle days. Of Wol— lev's. Rob— t's, Evl— n W— ds' renown. V. O, sometimes from these snowy summits calm,t Whose bosoms blush beneath the eyes of dawn, MI. Th' offender bore a dozen noble scars. To me he seemed, btside the popinjay, A pod, a veritable son of Mars — My dear old chap, all over are your wars, And now you muster in Eternal Day. * Eagles: Whether colonel or private — Sir Vere de Vere or T, Atkins, t " A deuced deal too calm, said Warrington." BEU.ONA'S DARfJXGS. Mine ear hath heard within the whispered psalm Breatlied ])v the solemn pines, our oriflamme Of hattle rustle. Once 1 dreamed that one 79 VI. Of those great soldiers spake: "To you this chance — For Albion hares her sword, the hour hath come — Ikneath my flag again to lift your lance, Again to hear the mad'ning ' Line, advance ! ' And with the cheering bayonets charge home." TRAMPS. I. O HAPPY morn, O Spring-time sweet When we fared fortij together ; The flowers bloomed beneath our feet, Beyond, the purple heather; O both were young and she was fair And nothing either knew of care. At noon a little cloud arose, We climbed the mountain trail ; Blacker the heaven above us grows, My heart began to fail ; And now we carried burdens sore. O Christ, how nobly her's she bore. III. Though bending underneath her own, She said, with love divine, " O sweetheart, lay thy burden down, I'll carry it with mine ; " And then upon my breast she fell. And there we kissed the last farewell. TRAMPS, 8i IV. Onward, alone ; the evening' sun On me its glory shed ; And now the mountain crest was won But — she was lying dead : Worthless the prize, heart crushed, I went Unheeding, down the long descent, V. Into the night ; then sunrise beamed O'er all the vale and sea, A sea of stars that throbbed and gleamed, And there, awaiting me. There with white arms outstretched you stand. Love, on the shore of that fair Land. I o TO " HORTENSIA, >> I. " Like sister and like brother "'—were we, dear? Knowest thou aught of a diviner love As pure and passionless, that draws us near, In nightly vigils, to the stars above ? II. Ah well, the past is past but not the thirst Again to hear thy voice, to see thy face; Though in my heart you may not be the first No other stands before thee in that place. RETRORSUM, I. " While memory is still half passionate Not merely contemplative," thus spake one In whose clear gaze the heart's vast caverns shone 1 111 no recess was left inviolate. II. No paltry prying in those eyes ; they shed Pure love and grief for frail humanity; Their lightning scorn for the Pharisee' Their boundless pity for the broken reed III. Her fingers played upon th' immortal chords That string the soul, with sympathv divine • Her music bent our proud hearts at (iod's shrine Or hred our spirits like the clash of swords IV. O Lethe and Mnemosyne ye meet : *^ Half passionate, not all contemplative ' " Severed, in leaf-strewn Autumn shades we live Amidst the withered violets, and yet G 2 r H RETRORSUM. V. Know'sl thou not moments, darling, when thy soul Saith to the cahn, sad Present, " Stand aside, The dead Past conielh in, awhile to bide." Then, Passion's surges o'er diy mem'ry roll ? ll TO THALIA. I. Child of the Gods, adored of Art, Fair daughter of Mnemosyne, 1 breathed my soul and bared my lieart To thee, and prayed thee to impart The flame of minstrelsy ; II. Till, kindled by thy torch divine I'fot all unworthy rose my song- Sweet Thalia, the glory thine !— Knded, I laid it on thy shrine Where erst my harp was strung. III. Thy voice rang clear and cold, " My grace O song dost thou indeed intreat ? Few are ye now who seek my face ; Whose Art, unstainel by sordid trace. Finds welcome at my feet : 86 TO TUAJ.IA, IV. " Pander to earthy appetite Wise generation of to-day ! Thou who wouKI'sl climb wlierc i^otls invite Must seek the laurel on my hei^dil. Not gold amongst the clay." V. Sadness and scorn were in thy frown, Beneath their sting the truth I felt ; Gain first — Art last — the levelling-down ; Unheeded now the laurel crown Save when its leaves are gilt. VI. O not for lust of praise or gold Go forth my song — to death or life ; Shame lieth in the napkin's fold The laurel for the fighter hold Drunk with the joy of strife.* VII. Though never wreath on thee be flung Still strike, my harp ; not uncontent So — grant the gods! — thou smite some wrong, Or raise a soul with anguish wrung Arresting its descent. * Gaudia certaminis. — Sallust. |i t ! TO THAU A. 87 ;c viii. What thoii^'h the trumpet-blast of Fame For thee my son^ may never swell ; Enough, sweet goddess, that I came And kissed thy feet and felt thy flame, And knew and loved thee well. ng, i TO MY HARP. I. Harp of my soul ! A son^r to her ! A song thai shall be hers alone, Unhreathed before to mortal ear— A memory when I have gone. As slumber's kiss on weary brain So softly breathes the melody, Soars to the stars its proud refrain, •' To thee, sweet Vega, only thee ! " II. No wreath, my harp, thy brows entwine, But when thy song is hushed and o'er, Perchance such guerdon may be thine As never harp has won before. What if— when holy Night is nigh, And only sister angels hear She breathe upon thy chords a sigh. Let fall on thee, () harp, a tear.? ' TO THE HONOURABLE f. Some whisper stirred the littk world, and I, WitJi half-amused scor received its frown hrom two of those poor, crawling things wlio lie hver in wail lo catch the voice of town, And by its praise or censure liine tlieir own. II. 1 he cause I never knew-'twas naught to me ; Vou, -— -, must have known ? At those sweet * two The slight collapsed, and, flung from memory, I he whole had long since passed away, but you Have chamed it there for ever, friend most true. III. You holding at that day the chief command, 1 hus on the instant, stamped the reptile out : Vou took me to your house, you " held mvhand "- All as - of course --no reference to aught Beneath, and so it passed. Have 1 forgot => By heaven ! No. Not while the blue skies bend Above us. No, not until memory end. I THEY HANG THEIR HARPS. I. They hang their harps where roses twine Above the beds of mignonette ; i'hey catch within their lays divine An odour of the violet, A ripple of the rivulet. II. But on my soul their music falls As Evening's breath on battle-plain ; Softly it whispers, sweetly calls — No answer ? — O in vain, in vain ! It wakes them not, the silent slain. III. Then one came by whose harp was strung Beneath the furnace-blasts of Life ; His song, like sledge on anvil, rung Of rugged ways where sin was rife, And souls lay stricken in the strife. THEY HANG THEIR HARPS. IV. The wind had rent his robe apart, And bared his bosom to my view. Christ ! I beheld his bleeding heart ! Around it smouldering ashes glow As smoulder fires of hell below. V. And yet he smiled ; and still his song Sent forth— triumphant and serene- Its proud refrain, " Be strong, be strong." O scant the grace such bard or strain'' From Beauty's hand or lips would gain. VI. Like noble wine it stirred my blood ; ^ I heard his challenge from afar—' For he had passed along the road, Up through the shadows of Night's bar, Towards the risen Morning Star. 91 i "A SONG' NOT OF THE CASCADES.'* I. To-night. O my harp, wake a song that shall reign When the dust of the centuries lies on my breast • That shall peal o'er the gallant, at glorious rest Where vulture and wolf are at work on the slain II. In vain I invoke thee : then sing what thou wilt : Of the friendships forgotten, the loves that lie dead — Or a song of the cups, when the vineyard hath bled — Or field, the fair " image of war, without guilt." III. Thai toucheth thee, harp !— I am back in the days When old William brought in the hot water at eight— O the smoke room last night ! ( ) repentance too late ! — And said, " Sir, it's time to get up if you please." iii >i -A SONG: NOT OF THE CASCADSS." 93 IV. riie bell rang - T.I just struKslcl into ,nv l,oot.s- Wl.en I c>ucre<1 the mo,„ she was theri in her place Around me the perfume of violets floats. V. It seems like a vision of paradise lost • What! sweet Memory ?_playing w'ild work with me As I swung her to saddle-O exquisite thrill r- Flammg sword and barred portal, I Aav^ hun blest. "^Gafe Sel'hTbr"" ''-^ S— drew it blank; Gaffer G.les hobbles up to the Master and cries, Dra^^hey turmuts, m' lard, ye may durn m' old ' Not hour gorn, a zeed vo.x a crassin' t' bank." VIJ. We slipped to the corner, my darling and I- She was riding " The Kitten," a thoroughbred bay- '^"ti;"''"' "■'"'' '■'-'•-'••-vhfp.s And hounds-'twas the dog-pack-are scoring to cry ! I I 1 94 "A SONG: NOT OF THE CASCADES," VIII. Just eight of us in it, we came to the brook, What a bumper ! — " You mustn't attempt it ! " I cried ; But you steadied " The Kitten " a bit in her stride, And the sapphire eyes had a dangerous look. IX. The huntsman, Tom Hilary, held a short lead ; A scramble and over, with nothing to spare ; And then you sat back on the game little mare, " Now, my Kitty ! '' you murmured, and gave her her head : X. No thought of 1 ofusal — a resolute shake — Then the rush of the rocket ! — and over she went ; A view halloo ahead — a most ravishing scent — Again we are sailing along with the pack. XI. Who-whoop ! the stout fox is a draggle of fur : Ah, my darling, your radiant face ! — and your blush At the marquis's praise as he gave you the brush : And O, //len — the return beneath Evening's star. # ♦ * # The wine cup is empty, the lamp hath burned low, My harp's music dies down to a desolate wail ; But go ! powerless Fate ; for a heart cannot fail That died and was buried in days long ago. led; ie, her PART II. t; POIfl/piCAEf, eiTc. jsh f A LITTLE GAME. I. From hei-hts serene I walcli the -anie My brothers play l)elo\v : A statesman, beg-ared of his fame, Stakes all upon a throw. The Celt *' sic vos non Tolm " sneers— As j>e/ with bated breath- Peaceful the smile and garb he wears, And sharp the knife beneath. u. His hungry glances, greedily Gloat ever on the stake ; Whate'er the other players' be, This player is awake. Empty of purse, his credit gone. His honour bought and sold. In every mart where he is known— " Who, then, provides the gold } " H i 98 li i A LITTLE GAME. iiii t .! I ! The fools and knaves — behold them — these That round the Irish stand, And fawning, bow the feeble knees, And grasp each blood-stained hand. Go, I repeat, in Israel's strain Of anguish and of wrath — Behold them ; these are Englishmen — O tell it not in Gath. IV. The Celt, in broadcloth or unkempt. Reeking of blood and crime, Than these is less beneath contempt, They crawl, he fain would climb. Leader, Celt, Saxon, fool and knave, Links in the traitor chain Forged upon many a bloody grave, Stamped with the brand of Cain. Albion, to days long vanished For parallel I go : Dark eyes — a noble soldier's head On Beauty's bosom, low — A s'lver tongue — the honeyed words — The mighty sleeper's trust — The Philistines — the shears — the cords- The honour in the dust A LITTLE GAME. 99 VI. Gods ! the great England of the past Drivels in lethargy ; She, who defied Napoleon, massed Across the narrow sea ; Her sons gird sword within her gate- Up, England, up before Thy guarding angels wail " Too late " And Hell rings out ** Red war." H ^ ''IN TORMENTS." SONNET. Nor hearts nor garments will thcv rend, I trow Not such the rending that they contemj)late. Who rendeth coat or heart immaculate ? When hearts on sleeves of broadcloth bravely show Ungenerous 'twere to penetrate below ; Though through red rai)ineonce they marched elate To the dismemberment of our fair State, Great G stone's huiul hath washed them white as snow. Aye ; but what waters can wash white that hand, Where is the water that shall cool his tongue In that dread day when o'er his native land The fires that he hath kindled shall be flung ; While ye who bow your necks at his command Will, eyes unveiled, curse him to whom ye clung. SOME TRAITORS. SONNET. From the caves where the sea-wrack wreathes a sliroud Kouiul the blanching l,ones of vour darhng dead 111 sea-mew s scream as she swings overhead— bwingeth white against livid tliunder-cloud • Trom waters where footsteps unknown have trod- His from Whose hand the destrover liath sped- Ere guns are unlimbered and bayonets red Warning, C) Albion, hell is abroad By Heaven ! not in stress of battle day, No, not on Albuera's bloody height,' Nor even when at Chillianwallah lay Gough's host, loins girt to die at morning light Stood, as stand now, fame, hono-ir, all— at bay Before the traitors, Celt and Gladstonite. SHALL IT HE EVER THUS. I. Shall it be ever thus while Time doth last, Will men look hack across the centuries To our own time when it shall be " the Past " With mournful retrospection, sayinj;, " 'I'hese, These were the days; they brim with histories Of statesmen, warriors, churchmen, bards who cast A deathless fame around their images; When loyalty was no vain pomp of words And Englanu's throne was girt with hearts and swords?" II. Perchance — I know not ; this 1 know, that I With such a retros))ection meditate On the great days of the past century When with one pulse the whole of England beat, When faction hid and all were for the State, And her ranks closed, to conquer or to die ; F^ach man, from king to hind, with fire elate ; *' For Crown and Country ! " rang her battle cry, And prouder rang as danger drew more nigh. HI. " To rend or not the Empire in two " Is now the burning question of the hour ; SHALL IT HE EVER THUS. lo.^ On this side sUimi the* noble and the true, On that the mob led by a statesman hoar; He, by his own lieart's hist ; for evermore His voice saith " Peace," the while his liand dotli strew Broadcast the fire of fratricidal war. Holding in leash a blood-stained Irish pack. Eyes strained, fangs whetted, raging for th' attack. IV. Once, pointing at that pack he spake : " 1 say Marching through rai)ine to their piirposeil end— Kn„dand*s dismemberment— ''ley force their wav." Lo ! now he fawns on them, grasps hand, " My friend, I prithee at the next election lend Your most sweet voice to me ; trust me, vou may, T' requite the boon I ask you to extend Ere long— that is— rely on this— I pray, In measurable distance dawns the day." His foot is dipped in blood of friend and foe And his dogs' tongues are reddened by the same ; Rash war his pathway lights with lurid glow, Followed by Honour sunk, surrender, shame ; O this the Transvaal battle-fields proclaim, Where the rude Boer upturneth with his plough Our soldiers' graves, whereon the light of Fame Had shone ; but nmv, O unavenged, now Dishonoured, his the hand that dealt the blow. I04 SHALL IT BE EVER THUS. VI. The same false hand that cast away Transvaal Failed noble Gordon in his sorest need ; Withheld till time had passed beyond avail, Outstretched then, a wavering, wind-rocked reed Shifting, as vacillating will decreed : Well might brave Wol y's gallant spirit fail As waned the priceless hours that could have freed ; Too late — all lost, and Gordon dauntlessly Bared his great heart and calmly stood, to die. VII. So, when the Present seeks the mighty Past And, wreathed with glory, our Victoria's reign Into the lap of History shall be cast, On its fair face, for ever, shall the stain Of this man's deeds indelibly remain ; And future times shall cry, " Behold, what waste Of god-like speech, wide knowledge, soaring brain : All prostituted ; pander to self-lust He laid his Country's honour in the dust. [In Canada, politics g"et into one's soup and poison your claret. How is it at home ? VVould a publisher and his " reader " — they being of the Gladstonirn persuasion — look at a MS. which con- tained the above sort of thing" with judicial impartizi'tv ? If it be so tell me, that in my nightly orisons to Veefa I may efive thanks. -E. v.] d; I : aret. they con- it be nks. TO 'MONTREAL. n ,'2'r.?' '•"''.'^ ™<^ "'■ ""= ■^fo-Sest in the ch Canada to th ain which binds -^naaato the mother country/'-'^Montrea P' ^ V "^^ (weekly edition), Sept. ,5, Aj2. "^'^^' ^^^^' *" ^^^^^ I. Montreal Discourseth • A noble link ! And thou would'st d.. e to break it Bloated official ! General of postmaster. ' Utterly reckless of the dire disasters ""t^y'T' M "^t ''"^ """^' -ause.-Damnation ! ^ay do not let the word arouse displeasure • I merely would imply that separation ' ' Would doubtless follow s.ch a serious measure. III. WNE Answereth : " r*"' T"T"' ""'''" ^°" ^*^; if ^ -nistake not Cood Montreal," that just as is the strain Which us most feeble link will bear, yet break not So .s the strength of even the strongest chain To6 TO *' Montreal:' IV. If your five cent link be so very brittle* It seems unnecessary to explain That a one cent link represents, O Montreal,* About the strength of your Canadian chain. O chain of Freedom forged by Loyalty, On thee the nations gaze with eyes intent, Round thee rings Albion's challenge proud and high, Montreal holds thee only worth a cent ! * By taking- a very small liberty with brittle, and really none at all with Mon-treal (" Mon-tree-all " is ridiculous), the kind reader will find that they rhyme very nicely. — Author's Note. ;h, at ier ''REVIEW OF REVIEWS/' October i „ 1892. I. Words worse than vain; and then the specious pleading, The wild, half-c-azy scrawl from Limpopo ; 1 n American intrusive interceding— My worthy Mr. S d, you ought to know That merely to advance such pleas at all Is forging chains about the criminal. II. Should we give such considerations weight Yea but a hair's weight, in fair Justice' scale, Down falls the noblest fabric of the State The Law of England. O, if faith once fail In that firm rock our England's dav is done Fallen her glorious star and set her sun. MI. Gird up your loins, my friend. Invertebrate I do not deem thee, S d, nor yet a reed i3y the wind shaken ; therefore I entreat That you will understand we are agreed On the main point— the criminal's release • The criminal or convict, which you please.' io8 "REVIEW OF reviews:' ii ! IV. Like you, I was not present, but I read The full report with care, and with a mind (I blush, but truth is truth) of which 'tis said By friends that 'tis somewhat judicial. Kind, Too kind by far is this their estimate (! ! !) — Now, to be serious. Briefly let me state — V. Weighed in the balance, all the prayers and tears, The hapless woman's woe, her suffering, The dead man's vice or virtue, aye, or her's, Are naught to me, all these aside I fling. Naught reck I of her guilt or innocence. The verdict was against the evidence. !i ■ ! ! PART III. SljfBTCHES AND Poi^TI^aiTS. ^^^^mmmmmmmmmm " THE SILENT SISTERS. it Duty stands mute, no bond of kindred blood Binds them to me, and yet their love, most dear, 1 heir joyance in my joy, in woe their tear. These on my soul they shed though nought they owed II. H^rt, for their grace what guerdon has thou given ? 1 hyself alone ! O worthless offering : Yet scorn it not Loves, what have we to fling But our rent hearts before the throne of Heaven. A PORTRAIT. Deep is the debt, my harp, I owe her house, For I have eaten of the bread divine It casts upon the waters ; yet it knows Naught that its hand doth. O, my harp, be thine- Thine, as a right — to tell it that there flows From one cold heart a lasting memory ; Nor deem the wave less deep that floweth silently. I. And so I loved the daughter for its sake. Yea, loved the little maiden for her own ; When first I met thee childhood's placid lake Before thy wistful eyes unruffled shone ; I saw thee in the budding girlhood hours. With inner charms beyond thy years indued, Then the fair bud, transplanted to fresh bowers. Bloomed into noblest, fairest womanhood. li* O here, a rose may bloom through all the years, Ah there, a violet hath drooped and died ; Sweet dews to some, to others burning tears, Star of my orisons, be thou her guide. A PORTRAIT. Agair we met— O not the child I loved :— Reigning above her sisters, lone, apart, A woman, seraph-voiced, fa^^e soul-lit, moved, As reigns fair Vega, goddess of my heart. 113 A PORTRAIT. SONNET. 'Tis not alone her noble loveliness ; — Mere satellites all other women show Beside her, in her calm meridian glow, Not fairer Aphrodite of the seas. Round her a charm that half conveys caress Hovers, and in the star-shine of her brow Celestial light beams upon earth below— O long-lost darling of the Pleiades. Shine on, fair star, no fairer ever shone, O touch my harp with fire divine, and raise My soul to breathe the songs that once thine own Sang with the Morning Stars in other days ; Where Aldebaran, blazing on his throne, Woos thy sweet sisters and the Hyades. A SKETCH. n He brings us breezes from the seas, He bears the proudest rank of all ; Above the ducal strawberries I hold an Knglish Admiral. II. He leaves the seas, he seeks the snows. Where unto ear attuned, () (}od. Walks Thy still voice : Columbia knows His rifle's crack on heights untrod III. By man before ; in solitudes Where the freed soul escapes its clay. And far above the brawling crowds Hears breathings of Eternity. IV. O constant hand, O noble heart, Brimful of manly sympathy ; Would that it lay in my poor Art To tell how much 1 honour thee ; — I 2 ii6 A SKETCH. V. And wake thereby thy discontent ? Fear not — I know thee — here I cease. Across this Western Continent, Across the far Atlantic waves, VI. Greeting. If London revel saps, The Seaton River still sweeps on ; The rams are out on Shoo-a-laps, The stags are fat on Ty-ak-son. A SKETCH. T. Time was when I could lake my i)en And draw an average sketch Of those amongst my fellow-men Who'd salient points to catch : " Women ? " you ask ; ah, not so sure — Sweet darlings ! You elude All efforts to describe vou -vou're Adorably indued. II. But now my hand has lost the trick, This dull brain gives no glow, And feebly burns a rushlight wick Where wax-lights long ago Blazed (?)— Well, at least a tallow •' mould " Gave tolerable light. You press ? Come little pet, don't scold, I'll try my hand to-night. III. Hard is my task. I must not dare To praise as I would praise ; What, shall I laud yon steadfast star — Gild great Arcturus' rays } \ t 'U ii8 A SKETCH. Harder the task to curb the tongue, The truth in chains to crush, To hush the song that should be sung Lest men should call it- -'* gush. IV. In days when Douglas ruled the land — With B e by his side — One man was known as his right hand, Foremost to quell the tide Of lawlessness ; and well '' Th » Three " In council, camp, and court. Swayed Justice' sceptre sternly Through good and ill report. Just as he charged a five-foot wall On lush November day, When echoed far th' entrancing call, '* Hark for'ard, gone away ! " When heads were up and sterns were down. And thrusters *' ride "' and shirkers stream. He took — upon the bay or brown — His fences as they came ; VI. So with his work ; no falt'ring glance To left hand or to right, Stern duty sat upon his lance, Honour, his beacon light ; n, A SKETCH. nrj Far from the world his mark he made In lone lands wide apart ; The " gallery " to whom he " played," God, and his own great heart. VII. His record ? Go, " Circumspice " : On the lone mountain side. In court, in camp, by torrent free. By Georgia's icy tide ; Tis writ on drear desert, fair valley, On eternal Cascadian snows, It rings in sweet Morning's reveille, It is whispered in Evening's repose. VIII. His record ? Go, learn of the humble, Vou can mark if //ley measure their praise ; The crushed hearts, the footsteps that stumble. Ask of /hem whose the hand that shall raise. Ask frientls— can you count them ? — who love him, Ask the souls that in bitterness sigh ; Go — ask the Recorders above him. Read his record on Earth and on High. A SKETCH. fl ; T. Sklf-contained, silent, calm, and nobly proud, Scanning with half-indifferent eye the crowd ; Serenely seated on high Honour's throne He goes his way, and his own way alone. II. " Public opinion,'' terror of weak men. He passes by, not with defiant mien, But without anxious glance towards her face And all unheeding of her blame or praise. HI. Icily courteous to "the general,"* Yet steadfast, true, constant, and firm of will, If, once, he stamp you with his friendship's seal He clasi)s you to his " soul with hooks of steel." IV. And then, in friendly converse, shall you know The hidden excellence in depths below, And marvel much why, with " consummate art," He should so strive to veil his noble heart. *" Caviare to the jfeneral.**— Shakkspeare. A SKETCH. 121 V. River or stubble — tennis — cricket-ground — Over the claret (/eader of the l^ar. VI. " (iood comrade when the cup goes round, Keen sportsman in the field ; More serious depths I may not sound, Though no])ly they would yield. When to the challenge of Relief Rings his 'Excelsior!' Calmly he shall unfold his brief At Heaven's immortal Bar." AN ARCHDEACON: A SKETCH. AT NEW WESTMINSTER. " Archidiaconal functions to perform, Such is the duty of an archdeacon," In humorous speech and wary, replied one Whose pen once held us captive with its charm. i; I. O well those duties thou interpretest, Strong Man of God, the kindest and the best Of all thy brethren, or if this should wrong The memory of one departed long. Your pardon, if I throw my words less wide, And set you with that brother side by side. 11. Friend of the friendless ! Even as thy church door Lies open daily to the rich and poor, So thy large heart its portals free doth fling To every outcast soul in suffering. Wide as thy Master's sweeps thy sympathy. Tender and true as His thy pitying eye. 126 AN ARCHDEACON: A SKETCH. III. Forgive, if I who knew thee in old days, Though all unworthy dare to sing thy praise. Not mine the fulsome plaudits of the crowd, Not mine with ill-bred flattery to obtrude ; Not all a man doth feel his tongue may tell. Enough ! Archdeacon, ever fare thee well. A SKETCH. I. Of giant height, crowned by a head of snow, Massive of limb — a modern Achilles ; Commanding intellect throned on his brow. Caustic of tongue, headstrong and stern his will is ; Viewing with thin-veiled scorn the world and men, And stirring up a wasp's nest now and then. II. This is his Court ; mark him as there he sits, Calm, yet impatient of undue delay Or dreary babble ; courteous, as befits A gentleman ; but should Wrong bar the way 'Gainst even-handed Justice, you shall find He's not particular how he speaks his mind. III. Yet vainly might you seek herein to trace Petulant irritation, which doth tell Of want of balance, of attempt to " brace " A system that is given to " lunch " too well. Or rank excess that dims the quick perception And lands it in the swamp of self-deception. 128 A SKETCH. IV. Not overmuch doth this Judge love the sound Of his own voice ; seldom, yea, never tries To thrust on prisoner, jury. Court all round. That cheap commodity called "good advice," But ends the case, lays on the chastening rod. And leaves the rest to conscience and to God. V. Graved on our hearts till Gratitude and Truth Shall die, be this man's service in the day When his strong hand guided our stormy youth, Made law, enforced it, and swept clear the way Of foul disorder, till the pure, white feet Of Justice marched along with tranquil beat. VI. Not for me is it to unclose the lid Of the man's privacy, his inward worth ; Of his large charity, most keen to hide From left hand what it is that right hand doth. Vwa^ / When others go their seats we fill — Empty, his place remaineth empty still. I ■ . iip y. - J t u ^ii 1, ly ON THE MILL BRIDGE, LILLOOET. February ii, 1892. SONNET. " Thirteenth of January. Fishing here." (Post-card from S— n K— rr, Ajaccio.) While you are buried deep in frost and snoiv. Though not expressed, "between the lines "is clear. But the first breathings of young Spring appear, And I, too, take my rod in hand, although The chance of sport is small, as well I know, And once again behold this scene so dear ; Stand on the rustic bridge that spans the tide Tranced by the rushing water's rhythmic flow. Here I watched Jupiter in al! his pride Rise nightly, just five fleeting moons ago. Father above ! the loved ones who have died ! The hearts, then high and radiant, broken now ! K A LITTLE INCIDENT I. Saunt'ring alone, unheeded, through the crowd, I marked two fluttering, fair Ephemerae; One gently born, her great forefathers rode With York, upon St. Alban's bloody day. II. The other charmer was of loftier grade — The chance of wealth — God knoweth what, not I ; How born, heaven also knows ; she never made Kind greeting, passed her sister haughtily. III. Not unamused I : still more, when she Said (with sweet nose upturned) to one she met, " Respectable ? — O mosi — but, really — You know — she moves in quik a different set ." A LITTLE INCIDENT. The proudest peak of yon serene Cascades, riiat link us to the Majesty on Hi^^h His lower brother with kind shelter aids, (^wns him his equal in the Father's eye. '3' ■ K 2 I ;•■ SOME PHARISEES: A E RAG ME NT. I. "■ Amongst the ninety-nine just ones are we ; Most pure, beyond all need of penitence ; And scarcely fair to us it seems to be That angels should rejoice with love intense Over that man at whom we cast our stones, Taking small heed of up, the perfect ones. II. " Rejoicing over him /-if they but knew Things we could tell them — knew the hideousness His soul is steeped in — they would (juickly i ue Their much misplaced rejoicing, a:}d express, With us, a proper horror of this man Standing far off." So stood a publican. '.NT. ousness ue rtss, A SKETCH. Kcclesiasticus, chapter iv., verse 9. I. Man, when thou sittest in the Ji.dgment Seat, Be merciful ; but let no weal.ness taint Justice. Let not thy steadfast heart be faint W!ien before thee oppressed and tyrant meet. II. Smite the oppressor, be he ne'er so high ; Deliver him that suffereth the wrong. Away with maudlin sympathy— be strong ! So— anijwer to Ihy Judge most fearlessly. < i J i PERDITA. What ! not one guardian angel hovering there When she strayed forth that wild October eve, Gently to chide, " My darling, do not leave Your sheltering home, I will stay with you, dear." She wandered on, so far and yet so near, Her falt'ring feet crossed the familiar brook. Back came her mother, casting wistful look. Calling, naught doubting, harbouring no fear. Christ ! silence. Then arose, "My child, my child !" Dumb skies, inscrutable, no answer yield. Hearts break ; Earth heeds not ; passed the winter drear. And thousand-throated Spring all reckless smiled Upon a riven tree, a golden tress. The little bones, the fragment of a dress.* i * The dear child had wandered from the house in search of her mother, had become entanjrled in the meshes of a fallen fir-tree, with a surrounding" of briars, and had there, ale >, perished. To have entered into details of the abortive search, or to prolong", in any way, the heart-rending tale, mig"ht g"ive pain to relatives. I earnestly hope th it this little tribute of deep sympathy may not sadden or offend. — K. V. PART IV. Bi^om THG SYr^mc IK THREF FRAGMENTS. I w i: FROM THE SYR /AC. Part I. Benhadad {solus) : ** By Rimmon, it is hard ! but yesterday Betrothed ; to-day, Urania is widowed, Naam?n a leper— ye gods, 'tis hard. And then the raid we planned on Israel, Who is to lead it? Osman is the man, After my Naaman, the only man. Gods ! What a hornets' nest it will arouse. They murmur now about the ' Osman gang.' But if indeed my Queen prevail with me— * If ! ' When my Love and * if ' confederate Not doubtful the result, her will is mine - Then must our Syrian standard hang unfurled And I, Benhadad, as a suppliant For Naaman's sake to Israel must go. The Captain of my G sard. Ho, Osman, ho." I^n/er Osman : " My lord the King .? " Benhadad : " This message to the Queen : We do entreat her gracious Majesty 138 FROM THE SYRIAC. That she, the Princess, and the lady Ruth Meet us at sunset in her palace hall, There to inquire somewhat more perfectly Touching the matter that she hath disclosed. Su r.mon the High Priest Armon to attend ; Secret the Council, beside these shall none Enter our presence save thyself alone." Exit Ben HAD AD. OsMAN (solus) : " Death crouching lurks in every air we breathe, Each hour we face it, but not living death : No more to hear the trumpet sound. No more to feel his charger bound Responsive to his sway ; Knee to knee where steel and shield are clashing ; Down upon th' opposing squadrons dashing In battle-day, To shout his battle-cry, ' Follow me. Charge ! ' Never again the rapture of the tight ; To see the foeman's shattered ranks enlarge — Pursuit, relentless, to the gates of night ; Would I could die, so might my chief be freed — Yet hold — impostor, sham, poor hypocrite. So glib of speech — but if it came to deed ? How then ? — O Ruth, my darling, yet not mine This life of which 1 babble, it is thine." FROM THE SYRIAC. 139 A Guard Room in the Queen's Palace. Prince Cyras {solus) : "By the gods ! I am weary. Since Armon espied the spot on Naaman at the betrothal yesterday, a man dares not to speak above his breath; the Queen will have no music, the Chamberlain no dice; my slave Cor's grief would not allow him to burnish my cuirass, and obliged him to get drunk ; Torqua is so sorry, that she must have pearl ear- rings to console her; I myself am no whit behind any in sorrow— wherefore I need distractions and for want of these am (listra\ight." Enter Osman. " Osman ! my well-beloved, is 't thou ? The gods have heard my cry." OSMAN : " My dear Prince, had I but guessed you were praying I had not entered." Cyras : " What good geni hath borne ynu to this accursed Guard?" Osman : " Cyras, still thou delightest to dress thy speech m garb of discontent. I indeed know the spirit that lieth beneath, but this trick of tongue doth work thee injury, yea, and with some so high that I i i aHMBW 140 FROM THE SYRIAC, I II may not name them ; at fitting season more of this, but now instant the time. I wait the Chamberlain, and would pass through to the gardens." Cyras : " Ho, sentinel ! the Captain of the Guard — A moment, dear my lord ; a whisper saith The King hath planned a ra.d on Israel, Thine the command, in room of Naaman ; If it be so, Osman, remember me." OSMAN : " Cyras, I will ; and that a raid was planned Is true indeed — this for thy secret ear — Beyond, believe me, all is idle talk. And now farewell." Cyras : " Deep thanks, my lord ; farewell ; And hold me in thy thoughts if aught should chance Wherein might ope gate of escape for me From this routine which crushes down my soul : Be thou to me the dawn of a career Which mine own sword shall carve to fuller day," The Queen's Gardetis. Urania and Ruth. Princess Urania: At sunset, so Benhadad doth command, a FROM THE SYRIAC, 14, We stand before his Majesty the King ; His purpose to inquire more certainly Touching that healer of Samaria, Of whom the (,)ueen, at thy persistency, Hath made report." Ruth : *' Now may my father's God Direct the issue." Urania : '* Dearest Ruth, I go ; My soul is sick with sorrow and despair; Nay, follow not; breathe thou the morning air." Exit. Efiter OsMAx. OsMAN {aside)'. "Ye (iods, I thank thee I Now my hour hath come, Up, heart! loose, tongue I or evermore be dumb."' Ruth : "Good morrow, my Lord Osman." OsMAN : " O, at last- Fairest, one word ; nay, do not turn away ; Ruth, hear me ; thou hast seen — surely thou hast ? The love, mine eye, but never yet my tongue, Hath dared to speak; yea, once I thought, per- chance — rill 14^ FROM THE SYRIAC. O, say not that I erred- thy glance in mine Rested one fleeting moment ere it fell. " 1 ask not answer now, scant is the time And all unmeet th' occasion, to lay bare My heart to thee, beloved ; yet, a hope ? — A little hope ? Ruth, darling, may I hope ? O, love, that rose ? — this ring, my mother's, take; Sweetest, thy hand ; O wear it — Ah ! the Queen ! " E flier Qu kkn. Queen : '' My lord of Osman and the Lady Ruth. Roses and rings ! blushes, as roses red ; A pretty bauble ; girl, your hand ; nay, dear, The Queen is witness that it binds you not ! Give him his rose. And now. Lord Osman, go." Exii Osman. Joy at his heart, silence upon his lips, Instant obedience to his Queen's command The warrior paid. Then she, to Ruth who stood Rose-red 'twixt bliss and anger spake in mirth : "■ The blood of Judah's kings breaks spear with Love." So to their noontide rest departed they. As passed the Queen and Ruth to their siesta In words of wisdom thus the Queen addressed her : ake; sen!' go. ;man. tood Lh: ar with sd her : FROM THE SYR /AC. " How seldom, dear, in this queer world we see One of us mated quite desirably ; Or gold, or lust, or a malignant witch Hath often the arrangement of a match. "A child-wife yields the dotard doubtful joy; Not more hath ancient lass in husband-boy; ' This for an ornamental partner begs, Brains she despiseth ; but delights in legs. " JJehold her married ; married to an author All brains, no legs; and he might be her father As far as looks go ! O we must agree rhat marriage is. at best, a lottery. " But you have drawn a prize, my little pet ; Now don't pretend you've not decided yet,' I shall console him, if you should refuse,' I'm half in love with him myself, you goose." Naaman sits by a casement high, E)es u])raised to the pitiless sky ; So Chaldea's monarch gaziuL*- Watched the mural writing blazing; And such a look in later day, As fell the sceptre from his sway, Mightier monarch cast ; When, on his flank, he saw the flash Of Prussia's guns, and knew their crash Spoke plain that all was lost ; 143 144 FROM THE SYRIAC. When Albion, victor in the fight, Yet reeling in her pride, Swooped downward from her bloody height In the last hour of fading light, And hoj)e and honour died. () there, within his grasp, hung Fame's reward : To fall amidst the Kagles of the (iuard ! Earth hath no halm to heal the agony That tears his heart, v, \o knew not when to die. A leper! he, so young; upon his head Scarce had three decades sat ; such a career ! Now buried, numbered as amongst the dead. Well might his great heart sicken with despair. He watched his squadrons from the casement there. The warriors he never more should lead ; He turned his gaze, the j)lume he used to wear — In battle-day the star of every eye — Now from the chamber wall drooped listlessly. Beside the mighty sword around whose hilt The sapphire's azure lightnings leaped and blazed ; O, he recalled the day when he had knelt Before his King, after the carnage ceased^ When Israel had fled, and to their feast The vultures swooped ; the King unclasped his belt, Girt the sword on him, raised him, and embraced Him blood and dust bedecked ; while thus he spake, " My Prince and brother, wear it for my sake." FROM THE SYR I AC. 145 rht I: lie. ,ir. here, Iv zed ; belt, :ed I spake, And she, Urania, his betrothed, his bride ? All else he might, percliance, have borne ; but !iere Centred the storm, the whirlpool of that tide Of desolation, beneath which lay bare His stricken soul. (), never by her side — Heart unto heart, lip pressed to lip, her hair Veiling her glory ; hour intensified By passion, and the spell of holy night. And all the rapture of the infinite, O, never should that hour supreme be his — Despair beheld her opening and swooped down ; Then his great soul leaped into his sad eyes. And steadfast as the light of battle shone ; Flashed, in the glory of the setting sun. Upon the man a hundred memories From history's page, of mighty dead who won Through fires of hell their way to victory ; — Nor less his fame who knoweth how to die. " In the Queen's hall at setting of the sun.'" Such was the King's command ; not oft he brooked. Save when high purposes of State compelled, The dull observance of the tinsel show Upheld by custom, by the merchants' greed, And by the clamour of the vulgar crowd. Born in the purple, bred in tented field, His earlier years spent in the noble chase; f I H' I: '■■i v. '. :! (Ml 146 FROM THE SVRIAC. Alone, no wccv^on save his hunting sword, He slew the desert lion in his lair, Rolled the wild boar in death beneath his spear, And on his lonely bed the white stars shone. Still was his lip unfrinc^cd when he led The Syrian squadrons on the battle day. And when his father <"c-ll, his sword cleft through The slayer, from helm to the saddle-bow. No lance like his in tourney or in fight Save Naaman's, the Captain of his Host. Then thus the King to Ruth his speech addressed With courtesy of host to honoured guest ; Inseparable frientls, beside him there, Calm vigil kept the mighty boar-hound " War " : " Thy memory recalls the battle day Of Ramoth (jilead, where Jehoshaphat, Thy uncle, leagued with the base Ahab, fought Against me, and I swept them from my path As the sirocco drives the desert sand— Ahab I slew, but spared Jehoshaphat. "By Rimmon ! Judah was a noble foe : He, naught suspecting, fell an easy prey To crafty Ahab, promised him his aid And well redeemed his word ! for his reward Ahab set tr?,p : he to escape disguised, Great Judah, warring royally, to die, iar, U°^«^ '-' feels his sinking soul Slide deeper down the brutalizing hell Ut base association T.„ .. , It was their hour ; Trystmg and parting kiss together blent. Passion and parting tears together strove, In that r''' "'"^ '""'"''"'-' ^' 'he dawn of day, In that pure morn of first and deathless love. Urania entering, saw ; then taking Ruth In her embrace, a farewell hand she held 1 o Osman, and the token for her lord • Spake noble words of kindness, and of care For Ruth until the hour of his return So parted they. niacin., fr„ , """ '™"P<=''' rang '• To horse ! " J^etore the King, whose falcon eye surveyed The squadrons formed below. ■f'o King lehoram M , " ^'"'^ '*^"^'' S've ving jeiioram. Now mark wel my words Vou know the country so 1 need not say Keep your men well in hand upon the way. 'S,'? ■B I :H: 154 FROM THE SVRIAC. Who's that upon the flea-bitten gray mare ? By Rimmon, 'tis that young viveur, I swear — Prince Cyras. Have you put him on your staff ? I thought he'd nothing much in him but chaff. Oh, if you answer for him all is right, The youngster's game enough. The other night I had been supping with the Queen, and some Freak seized her to make Cyras see me home ; Half-way a drunken fellow with a razor Came at us. Cyras caught him such a facer ! I'm a hard hitter when my blood is up, But, faith, I laughed to see that fellow drop — Better I myself could scarce have done it ; The jaw it was, the upper-cut — you con it? — He dropped the rascal just as dead as meat — His style's peculiarly correct and neat. "Don't trust those Jewish fellows overmuch, Not that I think they'll try on any trick ; But mind, if anyone attempts to touch Foreign affairs, or other points that prick, Avoid the subject, or, if speak you must. Just give him in the eyes a little dust. Possibly I may meet you over there, Her Majesty requires change of air : My liver's out of sorts — I want a run. And I am anxious about Naaman : Then, we could sound Jehoram, loo : he might Join in a raid upon the Kdomiie, FROM THE SVRIAC. Our men are fairly spoiling for a fight : By taking Saturday s express wed get 1 here just with you-but nothing's settled yet." frankly as comrade to comrade his palm Kang on the soldiers gauntlet ; Osman bent l^ow on his knee a moment, at the next He sprang to saddle, one last look he cast And caught a waving hand from casement' hi^h As marched his squadrons to Samaria's shore '55 J FRAGMENT THE SECOND, Scene. — The Royal Palace at Ramah. Jehoram and Elisha. King : If I have rightly understood, you aim Your censure at the Monarch, not the man ? Elisha : At both, O King; but I am not thy judge ; Of thine own sins judge thou thyself, not I ; Yet learn that both in heaven and on earth Dwelleth much pardon for the sins of youth : Lack of experience, foul example set, Parental folly, weakness, negligence, The stern, unchanging Statute which provides " Upon your heads your fathers' sins recoil," Plead for the young before both God and man Not so for him of years and vice mature Who drags a sister or a brother down ; Who feeds, not quells, the raging beast within. And sinks poor outcast women ileeper still ; For him hell yawns wide open, scarce shall he In all the ages of Eternity Be purged and cleansed from his iniquity. f FROM THE SYR I AC. Enter Prince Azab. AzAB : Good morning, sir; I fear Im rather late. ' KiXG : Welcome, my Prince ; Klisha waits to add His welcome unto mine. Azab : Your blessing, father. Elisha : Peace be to him, () Prince, that seeketh peace. Azab : By Baal— h'm, excuse the slip I pray. The camps are rude ; 1 only meant to say That blessing, father, little profits me— And, faith, it's just as well, your Majesty: I heard a rumour from a spy to-day About a Syrian force upon the way ; O let it come ! my charger neighs in stall And my good sword hangs rusting in its sheath ; Inglorious peace makes women of us all, And luxury drags nations down to death. King : Prince, I perceive that somewhat doth thy speech Offend the holy father. 157 I ■in i ■I i i ^i ! IS« rh'OAf THE SYR I AC. AzAH : ( )ncc again Excuse me, pray, if I have ^^iven you pain ; By Haal well — that is, I mean to say, That I remember as t'were yesterday When we met .Moah at Kir-Haraseth, How you stood by us gad, t'was hfe or death. In front was Moab forming to attack. And our whole force lay gasping on its back ; Horses and men, each blessed one was down. For my part I thought every hope had gone. And just a choice of death by drought or sword, When on a sudden, father, at your word — So the report went — all the plain was filled vVith water — O Ashtaroth, how we swilled ! Then came fierce Moab on, charged home, and struck Till all our centre reeled beneath the shock Vnd well nigh broke ; but Judah, on our right, O it is grand to see great Judah fight) X quarter-circle wheeled his foremost rank And smote the enemy full upon the flank. Rolling him up in rout ; and then the sack ! The spoil I took paid Moses off. Alack ! As deep I stand within his books to-day, The rascal actually draws my pay ! In fact, my prospects are a perfect wreck; Yet still, my father, here's a litde cheque : Accept it, I beseech you. \ /^AV>.I/ THE SYR I AC, I5g struck Ki.isiiA : 'I'hanks mv sun ; Vet O, for ever, Azab j)raise His luunc If health, food, clothin- God dotli g,,iiu ihce still • i overty, beneath which the coward whines, The brave man faceth with a trancjuil heart : I hen, sitting at her feet, from her clear lips rx\irns to discern between the false and true ; He marks the daily mercies Heaven doth send Which passed unheeded in his hour of wealth • Rivets to memory each kindly word, Each hand-grasj), let the hand be coarse or line • And when his teacher saith, with partin- smile, ' " Farewell, I leave thee, yet forget me not," And Fortune enters with full hands outstretched () then with gratitude too full for speech His soul embraceth every faithful friend ; The cold neglect and slights of yesterday Remembrance flings from her with scorn to-day ; He stands again within the world of men Breast-chamber swept and garnished anew. Exit Elisha. Azab ; 'Fore God, it grieves me if my idle talk Hath angered him. King : Let it not trouble thee ; Even unto me, the King, most haughtily He carrieih himself ; I scarce can brook N Tt)0 FROM THE SYRIA C. At times his insolence. I tell thee, Prince, That on that glorious day of which thou spak'st, When in that thirsty desert all our host — Judah and lulom widi us — gasping lay With Moah's forces forming for th* attack, Humbling myself, I begged this man for aid, And thus he answeretl me : " As the Lord lives, But for Jehoshaphat of Judah's sake I would not look toward thee nor see thy face." Enough of him. Abimelech, some wine. Kilter Abimelech ivith ivine. Abim : This wine the Prince hath sent your Majesty. AzAB : Ten decades since my grandsme laid it down ; I'rom Tyre it came, and 1 have l)een so bold To bring from my estate in Jknjamin Some twenty dozen or so — a trilling gift — ■ Which I beseech your Highness to accept. KiN(; : A royal gift, indeed I Ten decades old ! The purple wine of Tyre ! Abimelech, Take heed, take heed; draw gently off the oil :"* * Cyrus Reddintr on Wines : Before the a.iife of corks a little oil was poured into the necU of the flask, which was then secured. FROM THE SYR J AC. Ha! the aroma doth already fill The chamber. Prince, I dnnk to your good health AzAB : I thank your gracious Majesty, and drink Most heartily to thine. King: ... , Thanks, noble Prince. Bnng you from Benjamin and Judah aught Ot secret import? (iodsl What wine it is ' How clean, how silky on the palate, and 1 he after-taste how exquisite ! Speak, Prince. AzAB : But little, sir. Amongst the vulgar crowd borne discontent doth lie, mainly the work Of the base agitator, who doth find, Or hopes to find, large profit to himself ^ rom the inflamed passions of the mob. King: I marvel much Jehoram doth not sweep ' ihese base, disloyal sc(>iwidrels from his path. AzAB : If I may freely speak — King: Speak freely, Prince. M lf)I fl . ft'' a 162 FROM THE SVR/AC. Si*. AzAB : '' Suprvma lex rci^r/s uo/tni/as," * so Rings the grand watch-word of great Rome, and tlius It was witli us in the remembered davs Of Solomon and David aye, until The fatal hour when Reholxjam spake Thoughts which were ill to hold in thought, hut which To breathe was madness. Loud ?.nd scornfully I le lliundered at the people ; " With mere whips My faUier j)unished you, but I, his son, I, Rehoboam, will with scorpions Chastise ve, break your stiff necks ; go. begone I Then came revolt, secession ; Judah stood P'irm for the Crown. " Loyalty lirst of all ! " Kvcr his battle cry; and though I say Some discontent })revails, not heaven and earth Judah 's allegiance to his King can shake. Jehoram bids these agitators " Go ! Reptiles beneath my serious notice ye." His men of war laugh at the men of words- Words that, like scum upon the seething pot. Float, disappear, nor leave a trace behind. 'Tis here, at home, my King, that danger lies. * The student of chronolosfy is invited not to rely too closely on this work. ^1! FROM THE SYR I AC, 163 K IXC Proceed, Prince Azal), sliow me if vou How, in this matter, we on diff can erent ground And in more dangerous pliglit tlian Judah stand AzAH : Jehoram thus, discipHne's iron hand Holds Judali in its gmsp : hut, tliough it gall, (ilory and honour, and the reverence paid Kven to the very name of " soldier," make The yoke sit easily ; while here with us The soldier's coat is oft a mark for scorn. Branded by it, the wearer is der.ied Admission where the merchant enters free ; The pale shopkeeper who, with greedy hand. Across the counter grasps the i>ettv coin, Catches this client by an under-price, And from the next doubly recoups his loss- Flouts at the soldier, holds himself apart As one su})erior. \\'a, the State itself Deludes him in the matter of his j)ay. Thus upon every side contemned, beset. What wonder if the pride of loyalty That under nobler ausi>ices had made The man a prop and bulwark of the throne Should find no place within his sunken heart? What wonder if the dawn of self-respect Extinguished dies ere it can break to dav ? The iron discipline is his indeed, But Where's the antidote thni should have freed M 2 164 FROM THE SYRIAC. 11 Far distant be the day when we shall need To quell revolt at home by armed force ; Yet, to thy secret ear alone, () King, I here do whisper — such a thing may be. The blatant agitator howls above, The viler anarchist crawls underneath ; Danger in both, they fling their sparks abroad. The mine is open ; on the west one tribe Reeks with disloyalty and hate of thee. Lastly, and worst of all, the King's right hand. That once had grasped the whole, smoothed here, smote there, Retaineth but the shadow of its might. King : Azab, I thank thee. Matter for deep thought Thy words have given ; well thou hast disclosed The evil ; at a more convenient time Impart the remedy. My Prince, farewell. Exit Azab. King {sohis)\ A loyal servant and a friend most true ; Gliding deep thought and intellect profound Beneath a careless mien and flippant tongue ; Even now, before Elisha he appeared A mere viveur, a soldier of the camp. Although he love> the prophet, hoP'i.VK^ him. Alone with me. tl>e instant that 1 to»died Affairs of State, aside the mask %it> thrown, And lo ! the statesman and ^isc counsellor. n FRAGMENT THE THIRD. Advance Guard of Syria. Prixck Cyras : Trumpeters, sound the halt ; these are the wells. Off-saddle and encamp ; under the shade Of yonder giant palm trees pitch the tents Of Xaaman and Osman ; let videttes Be posted on the south and western ridge. Belshazzar. see to it : sec all prepared. The first faint flush of Morning's beam doth glow Upon the citys domes and minarets, I must to Israel herald our advance And bear Benhadads letter u» their King. My standard-bearer ami one trumpeter Attend me. Bklsm.\/z,\r : PriiKe, to hear is lo obo\ . Cor (serrxfn/) : Goest thou thuN, Cyras .^ Shame wore it to me should'st thouappvwr all iravel-siauKxl amongst their women ; yea. the wits will mock, saving, " Kaugh ! he smelleth ot stable hath he no valet? Is 1 66 FROM THE SVRIAC. there no soap in Syria ? " Dist^Tace me not, my master; yonder have I laid fair water; I Vvould trim thy beard somewhat. WiU thou wear thy blue enamelletl mail or the gold inlaid ? Cyras : Peace, honest fool ; begone and lend thine aid To my dear lord of Osman's varletry. Look to his comfort as it were mine own. Apt art thou, haste, long ere the climbing sun Attains, his force will sound the w^elcome halt. IlxH Cyras. Cor : He is a worthy youth and 1 will obev ; but hark ye, fellow, see that thou hast my horse and a sumpter mule or t\vo ready to follow our Prince. H'm, methinks the blue enamel to-day, and for evening the rose silk doublet antl white hose. 1 myself will wear— by Ashlarolh, I know not what. We shall see. They say the Jewish girls are passing fair. 77ie Palae in Samaria. yehorani' s Court. Enter Prince Azah ivith Cyras. Princk A/ab : Herald from Syria, ni\- lord llie King. |: FROM THE SVRIAC. CvKAs ; Greeting from Syria to Israel. Thk King : Welcome from Israel to Syria ! Declare, O Knight, thine errand, name, and rank. How fares it with thy master, great Henhadad } 16: Cyras : Cyras my name, () King, princely my rank, Chief of the Staff to Osman of tiie Guard. By whose command I stand before th\ throne. He, with the Captain of Henhadad's Host, Prince Xaaman, awaits your royal grace. What further it importeth thee to know This letter doth impart. The Kin(; : Our thanks, O Prince. Azab, we charge thee straightway to provide Afeet welcome for our guest ; reposed, refreshed. He shall return for further audience. Exit A/AB and Cyras, Jehoram reiids Hexhadad's le/fer : To our well-heloveil brother Israel, greeting. My general Xaaman, has a bad attack Gf lepros}', which lays him on his back. Now I am most averse to false })retences, l6.S FROM THE SYR I AC fill ■ I , I know we've had our little tlifFerences ; Perhaps you don't feel over well disposed Towards Naaman, and may be quite opposed To let him take advantage of your waters, Or even admit him into camp or (juarters. Brother, I hope for belter things than these. For two years, say, let's swear to keep the peace : I've been a good deal in the wrong, I own — Bury the axe, and let bygones be gone. Jehoram : Fair words — too fair. What was 't old David said ? " Vainly in sight of birils the net you spread." And vet — I know not — writes he in good faith, Or doth a hostile purpose lurk beneath } Abimelech, what ho ! Abimelech. Enter Abimelech. Knowest thou if Elisha hath returned .' Abim. : Not yet, O King. (}ehazi stands without ; Ere set of sun his master doth return. a : King : With whom I would have instant speech ; command That to Klisha's ear he shall convey My words. Abimelech, see to it. Away. FROM THE SVRIAC. \(M) i ce lid and A Street. AzAB a7id Cykas. AzAB : Brother in arms, in peace my nol^le friend, In war a foe as noble, let us bend Our steps— 'tis close on luncheon— to mv place. My wife must give us half an hour's grace— You'd like a bath ? and after lunch I'll show you The village ; lots of fellows want to know you. It's rather slow work in the palace here. Although the cook is good and wine is fair. CvKAs : IMy lord, I take your gracious courtesy, And shall with much impatience wait the day When your camel or your dromedar\- Shall drop you at Damascus. By the way, I've only got the clothes I stand in here Until my fellow — AzAB : Well, old chappie, wear My things, you know— we're just about a size. Here is mv crib. Cyras : By Jove ! a paradise. Azab: O, so so— now, what will \ou take to drink }— And then a bath— a cock-tail }~ 170 FROM THE SYR r AC. if I: X I. w (-YRAS : Thanks, I tliink That will be just about the very thing. AzAB : What shall it be ? Champagne ? Here, Isaac, bring Two champagne cock-tails cpiickly, and some ice. Enter Isaac with cnck-fails. Your health, old man. Cyras : Thanks ; yours, l^y gad, that's nice. The Gate of the City, Gf:HAZi and Cor. Gkhazi {aside) : One of the Syrian lords, a streak of luck I This is a pretty good thing I have struck. {aloud) : Give place there all. Knter, my gracious lord. Cor (aside) : Confound the Jew — eh ? — h'm, uj)on my word He's serious — {aloud) — Thanks, rascal; here, take this. Our Syrian dollars pass with \ou, I guess. FROM THE SVKIAC. 171 ic, bring ice. ike this, Okhazi : My gracious lord. I wish we saw more of them. T, . . ,. , iasufe)'. 1 his one IS hght, consume it ! CoK : Since you love them I've got anotlier here, if you will show me Where 1 can come across my master— (.av/,/<.)— Blow me ! I've given myself away now— (,7^//,/j-_Hark ye, few, I was about to ask you if you knew The swell hotel here, the most swagger shop For grub— (V^f/./^^)— that's where the Prince will have put up. (iEHAZi {aside) : His master, eh ? but still that other dollar I really should be stupid not to collar. [(ilnu(i)\ My lord, I think you'll find the " Cider Cellars " As good as any, all the high-toned fellars Put up there ; and your lordship, I may mention That it was your ambassador's intention I heard him say so— at that house to stop ii our Prince Azab had not put him up ; Yonder his palace stands, on that hill there, Au'.' now I must be moving, I declare It's close on noon. ^ ^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I l;i 12.8 !?* 140 2.5 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 ^= ^^ ., 6" ► V] <^ /J -^^ 0^ <$>; c? A > ./ / /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 4v •SJ ^\ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) 872-4503 6^ ^^^ ^A^ ■^^ s "W 172 FROM THE SVRIAC. COK. Ha ! thanks, my worthy Jew, Here's t'other dollar that I promised you. Azab's Palace. AzAB, Princess, Cyras, a/ hincheoti. Princess : Azab, dear ; I hear the telephone ring. He listeth the inshument. Azab : Hello ! your Majesty ? Yes— yes, my King. Leah, I must be off without delay. Look after Cyras while 1 am away. Princess : Now don't forget that dinner is at eight. Azab : All right, love, blame the King if I am late. Exit Azab. Princess to Cyras : Come to the veranda, it's much cooler. Enter Miss Rachel. Rachel ! returned ! Is not this your school hour } Rachel: O dear mamma, I've done with Signor Sharp, FROM THE SYR I AC. He says that I am perfect on the harp ; Is luncheon over ?— why, it's only ' one -— She perceives Cyras. Forgive me, pray ; I thought you were alone. Princess : My daughter, Prince ; Rachel, from Damascus, Prince Cyras ; and your Aunt Ruth writes to ask us To make his visit nice ; we must tliscover Something to do, although the seasons over ; But— Prince excuse us— love, you must be starving, Come to your lunch ; I know you hate the carving.' Prince, you won't mind ? I'll [50 with you, my pet. Prince, take this chair, and smoke your cigarette. Exit Princess ami Rachel. Cyras seizes a guitar and sings : I. Not Venus in the western skies Beams with the brightness of those eyes ; Than lonely Vega fairer far. Or burning Taurus' missing star. ir. O ankle most divinelv fair, O rose-leaf — mortals call it '' ear ' — O teeth of pearl, O lips of bliss, To see thee is to die to kiss ! ^73 >74 I' ROM THE SYR I AC. V I III. A kiss I the wanton winds in vain May seek those portals to ])rofane, To touch tliy hand, to catch thy glance, For death itself were recompense. I'hittr OsM.w. OSMAN : Cvras, vou seem to make yourself at home. C'ykas : (), (Jsman, my dear fellow, you have come : I gave the Princess ViMV fKunre's letter, Miss Ruth most kindly told her she had hetter Put us both up ; Prince Azab had already Invited me to come here, " Because," said he, "Although the King may be a little jealous, I know how deuced slow youll find the palace ; The cook is fairly good, the wine first-rate. But then the company is what I hate ; There's one oUl Judge, a most aggressive fellow, He wants to talk, or, 1 might say, to bellow, All dinner time — you can't get in a word — The greatest bore — he's really too absurd."' I came, and now I feel inclined to strangle, heart beats so. — (Jsman, I've seen an ans My igel OSMAN Is the man mad .-* Fc r heaven's sake, be calm ! The Princess comes. Your humble servant, ma'am. FROM THE SYR I AC ^75 Princess : Lord Osman, I presume ? OSMAN : My Princess, yes. Vkisckss: Most welcome. This indeed is liaj)})iness. If only our heloved \iinh were here ! Well, we must try to show how very near For her sweet sake, my lord, you are to us. And now sit down and tell us all the news. This is my dau