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Ail other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or Illustrated impression. Las exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprim^ sont filmte an commenqant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la derniire page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, seion le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmte en commenqant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou dlllustration at an terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The ■ I ••mm^fmm ' n um i i w ■^'V'^BIW*!" \ I'OEMS. NEW YEAR. Ah me y thoughts are very sad, and sable winged woe Broods like a nightmare on my heart and h^A All day I seek Lw f. • ' ' ""^ '°"°^« ^«^' y seek their forms in vain, and in .he silent ni^ht I mourn the friends that neyer chan., now V.7 . cnang. , now hidden from my sight. Weam l.ke th. hght .„ dead „:en'. eye, before the lids be c.<»;d. » irozen to a deadly sleep :_the woods stand gaunt and bare I -ireatr;!?:;^ "^^^ "'-''• -" ^' ™-^' ^ -^. Beneath the eraeUing snow to trample on the dead. NEW YEAR. '■r Oh hark ! upon tho startled air the new year's bells ring out With clang on clang, and peal on peal, a glad triumphal shout : Hear Earth within thy silent tomb and echo back tho cry, He will not leave us in the Grave — Where is Death's victory ? And even as the bells clang out a tremor shakes the snow. Above, below, before, behind, are voices whispering low : The hills and dales and woods and streams are speaking to the sky, ; " He will not leave us in the Grave — Where is Death's victory ? They cease— those sounds of hope and faith die off from rill and plain, But Heaven's angelic choirs take up the never ending strain, " All glory, honour, praise and power to Him who dwells on high, Ho will not leave them in the Grave— Where is Death's victory ? Bing out, ring out, oh happy bells, the glorious theme again. Our ovn Redeemer lives and reigns and we shall live and reign ; He lives — though erst Earth shook with awe to hear His dying breath, And Death lies prostrate at His feet, for Love can conquer Death. L I ,-.* ^eeds there goes a hymn- E'en Thy seaweed blesses Thee, Loving ruler of the sea. When the tempest, fierce and dread, Thunders o'er our bowed down head; And the oeean lifts on high Liquid mountains to the sky, Rending in his rage and pain Weeds that ne'er shall live again, 23 24 SEAWEED". Then we look to Him above, Living in His living love, Weeds, oh master t though we h& Naught is small or great to Thee. We, the weeds, can trust— and thou Sitting there with sullen brow : Hearing bi t the moaning main I He who loves thee, grants thee pain. Country, parents, wife, are gone He can fill thy void alone He is standing by thy side. Knocks and will not be denied In His name we speak to thee,. We, the out-casts of the sea V Mi WILD FLOWERS. 25 WILD FLOWERS. Flowers of the happy spring Blooming where the wild birds sing, Raising up your fragile buds Underneath the storm scathed woods, Shining from the rugged stone % the velvet moss o'ergrown, Glancing to the sun's bright ray Where hist autumn's leaves decay, Creeping o'er the sunburnt liills, ' Gleaming by the babbling rills, ' Decked with diamonds by the rains, Listen to your lover's strains. Ere tlie snow has swooned away Little flowrets grace the day, Lifting up a blushing eye To the wooing of the sky. Ere the spring has well begun, Ere tlie sugar sap has run, Where the dead leaves first appear, There the 3Iay flower hails the year. So when lifo'8 fierce tempests blow, And our soul sinks 'neath the snow, Ere its chill hath passed away God sends hope to great our day. Violets ! blue violets I Who that sees ye e'er forgets How he toils who seeks ye, where Sweetest fragrance scents the airj V* 26 WILD FLOWERS. Looking long, and looking far When beneath his feet ye are, Glancing as the deep sea gleams Underneath the noonday beams ? Coy and shy beneath the sun, Dreading, willing to be won, Who that sees ye e'er forgets Violets, blue violets ? Buttercup ! proud buttercup ! From thy meadow-grass look up ! Haughty, love compelling Queen, Not for thee to woo, I ween : Flashing, when the sun looks down, Myriad rays from golden crown. Yet in all thy glorious pride Clinging to the children's side : Type of Him who reigns above In His all-constraining love. In His mercy sweet and mild Deigning to the weakest child. I II § Frailest of the flowers that be Fragile wood-anemone 1 Giving to the loving light Sweetest green, and sweetest white ; Hiding underneath the trees. Shrinking from the mildest breeze, Rising up to greet the morn From the tangled briar and thorn. Springing like the soul of man From life's thicket, pale and wan. He, oh wood-anemone. Cares for man, who cares for thee. WILD FLOWERS. Flowers! oh blessed, blessed flowers, Marking with your sweets the hours; Blooming 'neath the sun's glad rays, Cry aloud your Maker's praise; Hidden in your leafy bower Praise Him, earliest May-flower ; Peeping through your mossy net Praise His name, blue violet; Love-compelling buttercup, Teach thy lovers to look up ; Praise Him, frail anemone, Lord of worlds who cares for thee. 27 28 PAST AND PRESENT. PAST AND PRESENT I thirst, I pant, I die alone, Sending to the skies my moan ; Crying to the Heavens above For the want of earthly love 1 Hear me Master, ere I die, In my need and agony. Stars! oh peaceful, peaceful stars, Looking on the soul's dire wars, Calm, and still, and passionless, Gazing on my deep distress, Bear ye witness in the sky To my need and agony. Sun ! oh bright and glorious sun I Listen ere thy race be run : Cpeeding through the viewless air To our Maker shriek my prayer ! Flash it out before I die In my need and agony. Seas ! oh busy restless seas. Tossed by every gentle breeze — Tossed like me, in storm and woe- Hear me, where your waters flow ; Tell to him who rules the sea All my need and agony. PAST AND PRESENT. Earth I oh mother eapth rise up Ere I drink the flitter cup. Thou that tellest in thy courBO Tales of sin and dire remorse Hear me I for I pant and die In my need and agony. Is there not one refuge ? one ? Must I die unloved, alone ? If I have not earthly love Shall I hope for that above ? Nature I love me else T die In my need and agony. Nature ! Dearest Nature, toach What the refuge in my reach- All thy children look to Heaven ; Mother ! let thy veil be riven— None have I to love but thee, Help my need and agony. " Ev'ry rill, and ev'ry sod Speaks our great Creator, God- He hath wrought and fashioned thee, He hath wrough and fashioned me, Child and sinner ! how can I Help thy need and agony." " Yet thy mother speaks to thee, Counselling thy misery :— To my God I send a hymn- In thy sin, oh go to Him : Hill and vale and river cry " Turn dear child, and do not die."— 29 30 PAST AND PRESENT. " Cry with God's own voice, ' Repent,' Other days to thee are sent Thou, who pin'st for earthly love, What is that to His above ? He can l-'d thy for rows fly — All thy need and agony. Yes ! but what am I but man ? What was he since earth began ? Ere Adam slept his last long sleep God gave one to love and keep. Parents, wife, are not for me In my need and agony. Is man born to love alone ? Are there none to love him ? none ? I can love my mother sod ; I can love my father's God ; Who is there to care for me In my need and agony. Yet I love : from earliest birth Love must bind to Heaven and earth : Who is there that gives me back What I give but what I lack ? Who will love me, lest I die In my need and agony. SONG OP THE RIFLEMEN. 81 SONG OP THE EIFLEMEN (volunteer.) Crack of rifle and clang of sword Sound o'er England's flowery sward : Through the valley and hill kept glen Tramp of horses and hum of men Squadrons forming, but not in fear, Because of the war storm drawing near. Storms I storms I keep to the plain! Come not near England's clifi"3 again Lest ye scatter in tears— not rain. Roll among the fire scathed pines Crowning the rugged Apennines Roar of cannon and crash of war Storm though it be, let it keep afar I Our bodies are England's, our souls are God's, And our bayonets are our lightning-rods. Storms I storms I keep to the plain ! Come not near England's cliffs again, Lest yo scatter in tears— not rain. Though we have a dear ally Let him think ere he pass us by 1 We can laugh at atyrant's nod Trusting but in ou rselves and God. English hearts beat stout and true— Stormsthat come here may have cause to rue. Storms I storms ! keep to the plain ! Come not near England's cliffs again Lest ye scatter in tears— not rain. i s 82 VOICES OP THE DAY. VOICES OF THE DAY. DAWN. No voices sound along the vale, no voices on the hills, Naught save the sleepy murmurs of the ever drowsy rills ; The sea is silent at my feet ; above the cloudlets lie In sluggish folds of gruy, that mark the dreaming of the sky. Last evening as the sun went down, all nature rang again With birds upon the tree clad hills, and oxen on the plain, Till last of all the nightingale sang vesper-hymns, and then I heard the bull-frog in the marsh, the lizard in the fen. '. (1 these two sought their midnight rest 'neath tufts of grass and stone, And, as the shadows thicker closed, I kept my watch alone • Yet tho' all living things were still, o'er earth and sky and sea I knew the never sleeping night was keeping watch with me. But now it is no longer night, though all things are asleep : I see, where ocean touches Heaven, the blood of morning creep ; And there the cloudlets wake at last as maidens wake to love Till blush on blush comes burning up and warms the grey above. And higher steals the tell tale blush, and higher still, and higher, Till all the eastern sky bursts forth in blood and gold and fire And one by one the birds peep up from underneath the wing, Then leave the shadows of the trees, and flutter forth, and sino-. Yet, dearest one 1 though wanting thee, all weary seem the hours. Wake not until the morning sun woos out thy sister flowers : Sleep on, my own ; the dawn of love has long since risen for thee; Sleep on, but dream, and in thy dreams think lovingly of mc. VOICES OP THE DAY. 88 stone, DAY DREAMS. Lot mo dream for awhile, Ero she wakes up for me, Catching tho sun-beam's smile, Hearing the laughing sea ; Dream of the joy to come, Dream of a loving bride. Sitting with me at homo By my own fireside. Still my delight to come, Whatever else may betide : Watching the diamond spray Leap in the morning light ; However bright be the day My dreams are yet more bright. I have a dear one — one Who can drive away care, I pity the radiant sun. Sun, no partner may share : Sun, that is speeding alone Through the desolate air. Sweet are the songs that ring Wak'ning forests and groves ; Birds in the garden sing Over the plants that she loves ; From thy nest in the tree Little one do not start. She who has fondled thee Lives and reigns in my heart, Soon to be joined to me Never, oh nfiVAr to r—f • 1/^ 84 VOICES OP THE DAY. Soon tx) bo all my own, Leaning on but my arm, I, and I alone, To stand between her and harm — — What was the gloom o'er head Shadowing where I lie ? Was it a cloud that fled Over the happy sky, Leaving me sick with a nameless dread And a fear, I know not why ? ' LIGHT AND SHADE. Wake and rise I wake and rise I O'er the Eastern mountains' head All the clouds that veiled the skies Burn in gold, and blush in red^ Nature calls us, * Wake and rise I * Shake off sleep, make no delay ; ' Hasten 1 hasten I hasten 1 hasten ! * Cometh on the day 1' Watch and pray 1 watch and pray I Though to yonder hills the sun Brings the dawn from far away. And his race be but begun. Angels whisper * Watch and pray I * Though the morn be very bright, ' Listen t listen I listen 1 listen 1 * Comeih on the night 1' Break in song 1 break in song ! Wheresoe'er the sunbeams glance, Cool sea-winds blow fresh and strong. And the streamlets laugh and dance. VOICES OP THE DAY. Nature calls us, "Break in Bong 'With the birds on ev'ry spray, ' Hasten ! hasten I hasten I hasten I ' Cometh on the day V Calm and low, calm and low. Through the joyous hum of day, Where the cool sea-breezes blow, Where the streamlets catch the ray, Angels whisper calm and low Through the songs that haU the light, ' Listen I listen ! listen ! listen ! 'Cometh on the night I' Bask in joy I bask in joy I Light knows naught of woe or ill. Storm and darkness may annoy, Now the sky is bright and still. Nature calls us, 'Bask in joy I * Use the hours while yet ye may ' Hasten I hasten I hasten I hasten I 'Cometh on the day!' Hope, but fear I hope, but fear I Though the heavens overhead Stretch all bright and calm and clear. They are list'ning to night's tread! Angels whisper, ' Hope, but fear 1 ' When the day is at its height, 'Listen I listen I listen I listen! ' Cometh on the night !' Watch and pray I watch and pray I Say the voices of the dead. Tremble lest ye be astray From the path when life Las fled ! S6 . iMLSK i mim.,M*^- 86 VOICES OP THE D\T. Angels whisper, * Watch and pray ! Pray for God to guide ye right ' Listen 1 listen ! listen 1 listen ! ' Cometh on the night !' NIOHT. Oh, Earth ! Earth ! Earth ! Hear me, for I will speak ! Oh, cruel Heavens, stifle not my cry I Shout, mountains, from each light'ning-blasted peak. My agony ! Oh, ever-vexed, foaming sea, be still I My cries shall drown the roaring of thy wave : The mightier sorrow gives the mightier will, And I will rave. Oh, rocks ; oh, brother rocks, givn back my moan : I saw a flash come from a cloudless sky That fell on me, and blasted me to stone, That cannot die. Dead ! dead I — But who ? Is it not I am dead ? Methinks I am, and yet I think and feel — My thoughts strike fire within my aching head Like flint and st«el. Oh, cursed, cursed be my natal morn, Well ushered in with tempest and with gloom. When they cried out. Behold a child is born ! Yes — for the tomb ! I stand benumbed beneath my deadly ill, With fire that leaps and crackles in my brain ; A fire that gnaws, and gnaws, and will not kill. But feeds my pain. J VOICES OF THE DAY. I loill not stand with head and spirit bowed, Yet language fails me in my misery : Oh, for a million tongues to cry aloud Before I die. I will not lose her thus ! she shall not go ! ' She is not dead, but sleepeth. She will hear : • Look up, my own, and smile away my woe ; ' Thy love is near." Dead ! Dead ! Forever dead ! and I remain A death in life, to live in death alone — Saith noi the Preacher that all things are vain, All things are gone. I know what chaos is — I see it round : I feel the jar of elemental strife : I tread no longer on the solid ground — Oh, love ! oh, wife I Would I had died for thee I yet am I dead ; For in thy death I die a thousand times, And, being so, surround thy dying head With mournful rhymes. But never, never, never more to sinar : I sang, I dreamt, I laboured but for thee, And Heaven has broken by thy death my string Of melody. And so I pour my sorrows into verse, Like dying swan whose accents rise and swell. Oh, deathless Death I oh never-ending curse. Since Adam fell I 27 I ■( i 88 VOICES OP THE DAY. I ravo, — who would not, losing her ? But now A holier sorrow cornea upon my mind ; A grief that, while it rests upon my brow, Leaves Death behind. And thus I know her spirit speaks with mine : She could not leave me in my agony. Where is, Death, tliat boast'st Hmt all are thine, Thy victory ? MIDNIGHT. Oh, that the still and silent mountain tops Would bow themselves and hear me ! that their peaks, Storm-scathed with fire and wa(;er, would come down, And bury me beneath them I that the earth, Opening her blackest and most lonely cave, Would bring my desolation to her own, And swallow me to darkness, and a night Brighter than all my days I or that the sea. That raves for those who love an(] wish to live, Would clasp me in his icy-cold embrace. And let me toss about and moan with him ! Last night I went to see her, and a storm Of wind and rain came sweeping down the road, And tore up barns and strongly-rooted trees. But came not near me. I was fearful then . I longed to see the well-beloved face Before God took her from me : knowing not That some men bear within themselves a woe That keeps death at a distance, and is safe. And now I long for what I feared ; and yet Men have at hand a million ways to die, Kjlf nniTT nnYxrot«r1ci i-iort 4-V.>^v»^ . T «,!n "L VOICES OP THE DAY. Why, there's a grim delight in suffering, (Would all the world could feel the joy with me 1) And I can tear me from my suffering self, And stand, a curious looker-on, and watch A human heart that palpitates, and throbs, And bleeds beneath the heavy strokes of Heaven, Knowing it is my own, and laugh to see The fruitless struggles of a loving soul That had but one frail hope, and sees it fade, I say that there is laughter in the thought That hearts, that Heaven dissects while yet alive, Cannot beat quietly beneath the knife They know they cannot flee from. If I hold My hand within the fierce devouring flame, The body knows the all-constraining will. And, while the pangs go through it, gives no sign Save by the crackling of the nerves ; but now, Place but the soul upon the firo of grief, And lo, it screams and iitruggles I Puny thing I Well, let it scream, and I wil' stand and laugh.— Oh, love ! oL, light I oh, life I oh, Heaven on Earth I Would He would slay me on thy new-made grave. And let me rest a little while with thee 1 39 i II. Oh, that my whole dark soul could open out, And pour itself upon t .is living world In waves of desolation I that my night (Strange night that broods on me in clouds of fire) Could come upon the things that love the light, And clasp them as it cljiapeth me, and burn I . Oh, that I bore within myself the power. As great as is my will, to scathe and blast, That men might hate and fear me, as I hate 40 ll! VOICES OP THE DAT. The very sight of men and all they love ! Be still, oh Earth I though once indeed I heard Thy words, and communed with thee, knowing all The whispers of the flowers, the streams and woods, And all the voices of the birds, and all That came in waves and harmonies of light From yonder stars above us ; drinking in Love's food from them, and joining all their words To mine, that I might pour my whole soul forth Before her feet, and deck her with a crown. That, all unworthy of her as it was, No emperor could give her ; yet be dumb I For now am I alone, unnatural. Standing bereft beside a new-made grave : Therefore be hushed before my bitter woe. Before the sharp mysterious pang with which, Like me, thou groan'st and travaillest ;~be still. And preach thy petty comfort unto those Whose misery seeks pity — mine does not, But, like the flame-encircled scorpion. Uses its biting poison on itself, Through rage it cannot torture something else. When first my mother died I wept aloud, Thinking that there was nothing left to pierce The hearts God's wisdom lacerates ; but then All suddenly there came a black-edged note That held a scanty lock of silver hair, And told his death who nourished me ; and so I sufiered mutely, like my own grim crest. The otter, dying underneath the bites Of yelling hounds, that gives nor sound nor sign. But now— would God that I could speak my thoughts. And cry until the dead rise up to hear. That I might see her once again. Oh Earth I Cover act thou iny blood, for I am lost, '") fi Tl ') VOICES OP THE DAY. Losing in her my Heaven ; therefore Earth Add one more chapter to thy grievous tale, And cry to thy Crer*or, if perchance He deign to hear thee, wlio seems deaf to me. Oh, skies, bend down and listen to a cry That wails and shivers through your cruel calm, I speak to my Destroyer ; Him who lives. And gave me life and love, to shatter both. But be not deaf I I will not say a word To murmur at His wise omnipotence. Only to ask " Why didst Thou give me love. And takest all my food of love away To slay me with a hunger yet more fierce Than that which racks the body ? " 'Tis not much. And I am very meek and all resigned.-— Oh, love I oh, light I oh, life I oh. Heaven on Earth ! Would he would slay me on thy new-made grave, And let me rest a little while with thee ! 41 III. I sing as swans do when they float to death : Methought that men in sorrow could not sinf But now I see my error, knowing that The deepest weight of sorrow opens out Fountains within the soul, that find their vent In telling all their moanings in such words As best befit the sacredness of grief And force all men to share it. Let them share : I cannot bear such heavy pain alone. But seek for comfort, like a foolish child, Knowing there is no solace for my woe : Knowing that Job, in loss of lands, and wealth, And dearest children, had some things to love, And friends to love him ; though, indeed, their nam'^s I'! ■■^ '^ ^^^H ' H.i 1 ' i ; ■ i i t ^^H ju ^^^^B ivk, 1 i 42 YOIOES OF THE PAT, Are held by us in scorn—" Job's Comforters ! " And yet they loved him. I have neither friends, Nor lands, nor wealth, nor children, and alas Our God has rent the band that He had wrought. There are some men who fancy that they know What sorrow is ; because, when revelling In untold wealth of love, and life, and joy, God takes a little from their treasures — wife. Or child, or mother ; so they come to those Whom He hath blasted, as the lightning blasts And melted into lava, speaking thus : " We too have suffered, we can sympathize ; " But give not way to passionate distress, " Look upwards for relief, remember Job." Oh, men ! that put the fire out with oil, What was Job's sorrow unto mine I and I, Like him, will curse the day that I was torn, And use God's words to tell my utter grief, For God alone can tell it : " Let the day " Be darkness, and a shadow as of death " Brood on it : let the blackness of its night " Sit like a ghastly phantom — terrible, " And striking it with awe : let all its night " Be solitary, never hearing words " Of joy or gladness : let it be expunged " From out the list and calendar of days, ** Because it shut not up my mother's womb, " Nor hid my future sorrow from mine eyes." So would I speak and die ; and in her death, Dying would find my one last ray of joy. E'en while I cry, my heart has sought her grave; And, like a dove that flutters to her nest, Sore wounded, to her dear ones, so do I Flutter to her dear coffin, and lie down Beneath the grass that takes the dew of Heaven 1 VOICES OF THE DAT. And rains it down in pity on me. God Grant me that, if I may not die with her, I live with her again. Oh, would I were One sod that falls upon her coffin, so We never, never should be separate. In ancient times they bound the parricide Unto the body that he should have loved, And left him, living, to corruption. Would That I oould claim the same dear law, and die With her lips fastened unto mine— she dead Alas, but I alive I— for death through her Is welcome as sweet showers to thirsty lands. Oh, love ! oh, life ! oh, light I oh, Heaven on Earth ! Would He would slay me on thy new-made grave, And let me rest a little while with thee 1 IV. Pray God for that one mercy— that I die Clasping her tombstone. Is it much to ask ? I yield her unto Heaven, and am glad That Heaven takes her from me, giving me Unto that Hell on Earth that drags to Hell : Thanking Him for His curses, so that she . May live and reign for ever. So be it. Could I not give up life and soul for her, I should not love her. But I do ; I do. Oil, grant me this, that by her grave I die ;, And, dying, give her name unto the world To live for ever, though I die— I die. " God gives us things to love," they say: what then, If He resume His gifts and take away; And, having taught the silly heart to learn That love is life, and without love is death, Eend with unsparing hand each tie to life, And doom His playthings to a living tomb ? 48 44 VOICES OP TEE DAT. Let others feign to kiss the lifted rod, Wearing above their bitter hearts the face Of resignation ; I cannot do so. The greatness of my sorrow strips me bare Of all the coverings that mask our life ; And should I say I gladly give her up, I'd lie like Judas. Oh, my love ! my soul ! My only tie to Heaven or to Earth ; My darling, dearer than all things most dear ! Would ho would slay me on thy new-made grave, And let me rest a little while with thee ! a ; 1 i Be still I Perhaps she hears me in the grave. And my lamentings break her angel-sleep ; Or rather say she listens from the Heavens And cannot sing His praises as she would, Because she hears my sorrow ; for I know He lets my angels think of me, and oft When I have wept myself to sleep, He sends Their faces to my dreaming ; then I smile And bless him for His mercy, seeing them ; And when the sun peeps in and bids me wake, I press upon mine eyelids with my hands To shut him out, and keep them still with me, For angels vanish when the sunlight comes. And so I know they think of me sometimes, And come, that I may not be desolate; And I will cover up my bitter woe Lest she should see and grieve for it. My own ! I would not vex thee in a thought ! And yet How can I hide it, when her heart and mine Are one, and lie together in one grave ? My love ! my light ! my life ! my Heaven on Earth 1 Mine ycv 1 mine always ! ilow wc laugh to scorn VOICES OP THE DAY. My rival, petty tyrant that he is, That clasps thee in the grave-yard,— knowing not That hearts once joined by God, nor Death nor Hell, Nor aught save God himself, can separate ; And when he grasps thee, that he folds us both In that embrace, and presses us the more Closely together— life and heart and soul. For Love is stronger still than death, and breaks The prison of the grave, and burns and shines Above the loved one's coffin ; laughing at The gloom of dank corruption ; seeing naught But her who whilom lived and moved, and loved, And watching till the day of judgment, when E'en death shall be engulphed in victory. And love shall reign for ever. Oh, my life I Pray God in Heaven, as we do pray on Earth, That He will hasten on the glorious day, And never, never separate us more. 45 , VI. I went into the garden she had kept And tended, ere the fell destroyer came To wither all her grace (that cursed One, That steals upon his victims like a cat. And plays with them and mocks their fruitless pangs, Looking from out the bright brown eycs with fire That shows the more the two dark rings around — The rings that mark the marriage of the grave Painting the damask beauty of the cheek With colours lovelier than health can give. And gnawing at the vital founts of breath Until he slays his victim, inch by inch), And there, amid the flowers she loved, I saw Her very emblem j for a damask rose. Iff! pi; ?! i 46 VOICES OP THB DAY. Giving her fragrance to the wooing air From all her glorious blossoms, stood alone With withered leaflets — not one speck of green And bloomed amid destruction, while the worm Gnawed daily at her roots. Oh, love I oh, life ! Would I could press thee to my heart as close As I do press this blossom that I plucked From off this rose-tree ! Since thou could'st not live, Would we had died together I— side by side Mocking the cruelty of Heaven with love, Unparted, unextinguishable by The grave where thou art lonely now, my own. Yet do not sorrow ; wait a little while And I will join thee also — not as those Who dare not live and bear their agony : But there are times when grief o'ershoots the mark And, while it probes the lacerated heart, Sees suddenly that quiver of the nerve That tells that all is over. So make room, Sweet bride ; for lo 1 my rival stands by me. And reads our marriage-service. Blessed Heaven ! And did I call thee cruel ? I was mad ! There is not in thy richest mercies one Greater than this thou grantest — that I die. Oh, love ! oh, life ! oh, light ! oh. Heaven on Earth ! Soon shall I come unto thy new-made grave And rest in peace a little while with thee. vir. " Heaven gains another angel ; so rejoice." Let Heaven rejoice that gains her. We below Have none so many that we need be glad When one goes from us. She on earth was one Of Heaven's own anpffilfl. "WTiorAfriKo oVimilil dI,^ ~« II r-i' VOICES OP THE DAY. And leave a void behind her, to bo filled, Perhaps, by devils ? Wherefore was she sent, That we, in knowing all her worth, should Vnow How great our loss in losing her, and feel Our gain— of desolation ? Does a man Rejoice when flowers die ? or rainbows fade ? Or when a meteor, filling all the sky With light too lovely for the world, departs And leaves black night behind it ? Why, what fools Are all these would-be comforters— (what's this That stills my woe and speaks instead ?)— « that think " They can relieve the grief that God Himself " Waits long before He handles, leaving it " To weary out its madness ere He speaks ; " And even then He speaks in lowest tones, " Touching the sore, that shrinks from ev'ry touch, " With fingers gentler than a mother's, while " He soothes the wilful child, and shows it that " ' She is not dead, but sleepeth ' ; pointing out " The loved one's figure beckoning her love, " With eyes in which the light of Heaven shines, " To come and join her in her praise of Him." And when rebellion at the sight is still. And all the soul grows calmer, though it yearns To join her on the instant, thou who speak'st In words that lay my sorrow, say what then ? " Then when the heart will hear His word, He speaks " More plainly, saying 'Learn to suflfer first, " And so to strive with Me, that Peace and'joy " May reign at last upon my vexdd earth ' ; " And thus the child goes forth to do, and bear " All things his Father wiUeth, with the calm " Of holy sorrow nestling at his heart, " Until the end arriveth. Then our God " Clasps him in close embraces, whispering— 47 !■ 48 VOICES OP THE DAY. '• ' Oh, child I oh, ucarost child ! and didst thou think " * Thy Father wounded thee except in lovo ? ' " " While those who stand around the dying bed " Draw nearer, and behold with joyful awe «' A placid smile upon the dead man's face." Said I not well my loved one came to me ? 8he came amid my madness. Oh, my God Forgive me all my murmurs. Let me live, And live to do thy bidding. Let mo be A beacon in life's tempest. Wheresoe'er Hearts break beneath their heavy weight of woe There send me, Lord, and teach me what to say. That Thou, not I, may'st comfort. Oh, my love, Leave not the Heaven again to soothe my grief, But sing His praise who doeth all things well, Until I join thee ; looking down, at times, To see me toiling up the hiMs to thee. Hear me, Earth I seas I rocks I vales I And echo forth the summons, " Ye who mourn, Your Lord has need of you to comfort those Whom He has wounded ; therefore come with me. I see a cross that stands on Calvary, With little ones beneath it. Take them up ; Each one his brother's. Kise and let us go." Oh, love ! oh, life I oh, light 1 oh. Heaven in Heaven I Our love shall triumph through the Love of God. Wait but a little while. I come to thee. ■f FINIS. EVBNINa HYMN. 49 EVENING HYMN. Thou, whoso ncvor-sleoping eye Pierces through obscurity, And whoso noeer-onding lovo Guards thy children from above, Now I lay me down to t^-. : Bless me, and I shall bo IL-st I Watchme, Father, till I wake; Keep me for my Saviour's sake'. Father! through the now past day Oft thy child has gone astray; Yet, for Thou canst look within, See repentance for my sin • Human frailty Thou dost know— What I would not, that I do : ' Father, e'en in justice mild, Pardon me, thine erring child. So, when I mine eyelids close. Thy great love shall give repose ; Silent night shall bring no fear, ' . Since I know that Thou art nelr. Though Thy thunders, all around, Rave along the trembling ground,' I shall hear my Saviour cry— " Be not fearful, it is I." But, should pain and agony Keep awake the weary eye. And the stillness seem more still And the darkness full of ill,— -^ 60 EVENING HYMN. Through the black and solemn night, Till the happy morning light, Let thine angels from above Be with me and all I love. And, when near eternity. Sterner night shall close on me, And the hard and laboured breath Cease at the approach of death, Thou, who cam'st on earth to save, Father ! Conqueror of the Grave I In Thine arms, though friends may weep. Hush Thy little one to sleep. I TO A MISSIONARY. 51 TO A MISSIONARY. " Ministers of God-i. .uch patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in dist^es."- 2 COEINTHIANS, vi. 4 Servant of God, speed on f The gale Howls for its victim, and the wave In many a watery vale Spreads wide a yawning grave I Far off, the land looms dim ! The sea Tipped with huge clots of snow-white foam, Leaps in its maddened glee Between thee and thy home I That home, where often, wandering free, Thou, in the dark old forest glade, Beneath some rugged tree, lu laughing boyhood played. E'en yet thy memory recalls Thine aged father's honoured face— The nld, the well-known halls— Thy mother's last embrace ; The silent valley, a. d the hill " Where the last sanbeam loved to stay " ; The forest, and the rill Low murmuring on its way. Yes I on thy heart remembered all, Companions of thy woe and weal, Like shadows on the wall How noiselessly they steal I H I 52 h n \i I! < u * TO A MISSIONARY. Or thee the terrors of the land Await : the howling wilderness ; Wild Afric's torrid aand ; Thirst, famine, and distress. Oft to thy hut the lion's roar, Far off, shall swell along the gale ; Oft, too, the torrents pour Destruction on the vale. Or, where the tempest-heaten North Lies glittering 'neath the frosty sky, Perchance thou speedest forth To 'abour, and — to die. Where, rustling through the midnight still, The splendour of the Northern Light Streams o'er each ice-capped hill. The standard of the night ; And the volcano's lurid glow. From earth's deep bosom leaping high, Lends to the pure white snow The blushes of the sky. Yet, Servant of the Living God, Fear not the earth — the ocean's wrath I As erst His martyrs trod. Tread thou the holy path. In life, contempt, and toil, and woe Are thine, the spurned, forgotten name ; In death, the robes of snow, The crown of living flame. i ' I THE INVOCATION. 53 THE INVOCATION. Mighty king I resistless lord ! Sprung from Odin's royal line, Known in many a living word Sung of old by Scalds divine ! Thou who, clothed in terrors, sweepest Over hill and over plain. Hear me, wheresoe'er thou keepest Gloomy, storm-compelling reign. Where the white eternal snow Glitters 'neath the frosty sky, And the ice-bound rivers flow To the ocean silently ; Where the foot hath never trod. And the eye hath never gazed • There, ere Time was born, the god Palaces from water raised. Underneath the crystal floor Ocean, kept in icy chain, Stills his stern and angry roar Moaning like a god in pain: Yet the tie that binds his wave Ocean's self to thop. had o-iyen • Though hia wat<>rs fret and Never more shall it be riven. rave, ^^P^T^f^'f^^'-' 64 ■ II i Mil. :\ THE INVOCATION-. Growing with the growing hour, Living still when Time shall die, Lo I the mighty snow-walls tower Up to Heaven's canopy. Here for thee the Spirit-Light, Tinting all the sky with red, Ever through the frosty night Spreads its standard o'er thy head. Murmuring with a mystic sound, Known to thee and thee alcne, Souls of Vikings all around Bend before thine icy throne : They, who ever, when the storm Swept along the startled sea, Knew the god's presiding form. Hailed thine awful majesty. Fierce in life, and stern, were they, Joying in the heaps of slain. Swooping on the trembling prey Like thy tempests on the plain ; Therefore, in the hour of death. When they sought the naval pyre, Thou for them, with mighty breath, Kindledst up the purging fire. So thy whirlwinds howling loud. And the moaning of the sui^e, And the crackling mast and shroud. Were their fit and solemn dirge. Not the woman's tear-steeped eye. Not the puny wail of grief. But the fire, and sea, and sky Swelled the death-chant of the chief. I THE INVOCATION. Till the rosy ocean-wave Gulphed the fire-embrac6d bark, And its grim and sullen grave Overhead grew azure dark. Then thy tempests died away, Bearing off the soul to thee ; And the saffron orb of day Flashed across the heaving sea. But afar, where thou dost reign. In the cold and glittering North, Trooping from the hoary main Come the hero-spirits forth j And when o'er the frosty sky Oft the Northern Lights expire, Bustle then their standards high, Gleams again the funeral fire. Mighty king ! resistless lord 1 Sprung from Odin's royal line. Speak the storm-compelling word. Come in maiesty divine. Oh ! if e'er in times of old. From thine ice-encircled throne. Thou didst hear the free and bold, Now assert, dread king, thine own. Lo ! across the wide-spread path Of the still and patient sea. Fearing not, King, thy wrath. Strangers come who know not thee ! Speaking strange, mysterious things Of a new and brighter day ; Foes to all the (Esir kings. They would lead thy sons away. 55 60 THE INVOCATION. .1 lit UM i ill Dastards are they, that rejoice In their leader's death of shame ; Fools, whose weak and puny voice Fain would brand thy glorious name ; Souls that, grovelling with the soil. Hating sword and arrow true, Welcoming reproach and toil, Seek to make us cowards too. Oh, in this, the hour of need, Spread thy gloomy wings on high ; Rushing with a mighty speed. Sweep along the shrieking sky ; Summon all thy servants round, Arm them for the coming fray, Stoop upon the heaving ground Like an eagle on its prey. Then, in this thy favoured place, Far removed from mortal ken. In thy whirlwind's gri i embrace Clasp this coward race of men : Plunge them in the yawning grave Of the all-devouring sea ; There let Him they trust in save From thine awful majesty. There, beneath the sun's bright ray, Oft their fleshless bones shall glance Glittering in the flashing spray Of the Maelstrom's endless dance ; When the weary serpent-king Round the earth's foundations curled, Moves a while each massive ring That supports the heavv world. IJ^i II THE INVOCATION. Lo, it comes I • Lo, it wakes ! Dread spirit of the air; And the mighty ocean shakes As it rushes from its lair ; And the gods that dwell on high Their awful faces veil ; And the azure of the sky Grows pale. Lo, it comes ! The sullen sound, Prophet of the tempest's wrath. And the startled rocks rebound All along its unseen path ; And the sea-mew, whirling hio-h Screams aloud to the sky. Till the echoes from the bay, From the hills and valleys round Die away. ... All around, a solemn still Hangs o'er mountain, plain, and rill ; Deepened silence, as of death. Hushed each voice, and stayed each breath j And the over-burdened air Dies away, and cannot stir Feathers that the white sea-mew. Circling 'neath the sky's deep blue, Dropped on yonder storm-scathed fir. Underneath, in grim repose. Ocean waits his coming foes ; And the foam, that tipped the crest Of his waves, has died in rest. 57 P i 58 W' "i THE INVOCATION. But on high the light has fled, And the sun has hid his head : And darker yet, and darker still. Broods the dread storm o'er plain and hill ; Save where, as far as eye can see Athwart the fearful air, KoUs slow along the maddened sea The tempest's lurid glare. ... He has heard I He has sped From his palace in the North ; He has lifted up his head. He has sent his spirits forth I All behind him deso'ationl Cries of death — a bitter wail I All before him lamentation ! Heads that bow and hearts that quail. Darkling spirits rush before him 1 Fearful terrors hover o'er him ! Heaven, and earth, and sea adore him ! Mighty king, all hail ! Mingling with the crashing sky. Rising o'er the roaring surge. Raise the song of triumph high ; Raise the cowards' funeral dirge. Long across the laughing spray Of the all-devouring wave. Friends shall gaze the livelong dav, Gaze across their mocking grave. But, whene'er the cold, white snow Spreads its mantle o'er the ground, And the wintry breezes blow. And the earth grows hard around. — THE INVOCATION. Bending o'er the blazing fire, Oft, to while away the hour, To his children shall the sire Tell the god's almighty power ; Till the blushing cheek grows white, And the scarce-drawn breath is still, And the chill wind's moaning flight Seems some boding sound of ill. So thy fearful name shall fly O'er the world, from shore to shore, Till thy lightnings quit the sky. And thy thunders cease to roar. 59 1 I 60 MEDITATION. MEDITATION. " If in this lifo only we have hoDe wn o,n ««• „n . . uavuuupo, ^^0 aro of all men most miserable. "- 1 Cob., XV. 19. Oh, that some god would hurry mo along, And bear me onwards on his mighty wings ; Then, in the heaven-inspired realms of song, Touch once the strings. That I might catch their ringing echoes, when They sounded in the crystal-columned haU Of the nine sister-goddesses, and then Pour them back— all In one sweet solemn flood of melody. One parting ray of glorious lustre, ere To other scenes and other climes I fly, To linger there. Like some dim sun, that, all the day in cloud Entombed, has hid his fires beneath its night. Yet, ere his race be run, has burst his shroud In floods of light. And all the hills grow purple, and the sky Glows with the dying god; and ocean's surge Burns his vast pyre ; while yon wild searbird's cry Is but his dirge. But ah ! more like the lonely sun that speeds All dim and saddened through the murky sky, No ray of light may cheer the path that leads Me on to die. Where are they now that here before me stood. That roamed these hills and smiling vales of yore? Ah I slowly onwards, sweeps Time's grasping flood : Are they no more ? MEDITATION. What boots it then to them that life has been A weary struggle for an honoured name ? The very oak, on which their record's seen, Outlives their fame. They loved, perchance ; and yet their love has passed : They mourned ; what heart responds now to their wail ? Their loves, their woes, their hopes, are hid at last Beneath the veil. So what they toiled for, with such endless care, Time's ocean swept from off the fickle strand ; And we shall toil— poor insects, that we are And build — on sand. And yet methinks a voice within me cries— " Oh, coward spirit ! faint'st thou at the track ? " Wilt thou, when Heaven straight on before thee lies— " Wilt thou turn back ? " Not always shrouded speeds the lonely sun ; " The sadder days of life must sometime cease : " Gird up thy loins and hasten to press on ; " Then rest in peace, " Like those who went before thee. Not unknown " Are they, whate'er thy gloomy mind asserts : " They struggled, and the God who knows His own " Saw their deserts. " What though their joys and griefs have passed away, '' And those who loved them have forgot their love ? " Life's night to them was harbinger of day, " And bliss above. " Or is it naught to thy distempered mind, " With sullen thoughts and bitterness opprest, " To know, midst sorrows, that there lies behind " The coming rest ? " Or may'st thou not, amidst thy doubts and fears, " Hope still for some small happiness below ? " " Not so, sweet voice, our hopes are frozen tears, " And frail as snow. 61 ti iii P 62 MEDITATION. II' I " Wo struggle vainly in Caro's serpent coil, " Toss'd hither, thither ; yet we know not why. " Poor puppets 1 Howsoo'er wo bravely toil, " Wo toil— to die. " And though, from righteous Abel until now, " Strong men have striven to amend the earth, " Tho same stern weights of woo oppress the brow, '.' E'en from our birth." " Not so. By many a battle strengthened, man " Makes steady progress unto life and light, " Though those brave minds that struggled in the van " Fell in the fight. " ' Let there be light,' was said in times of old " Ere the fair planet shone upon the air : " He spake, who speaks not vainly, and behold " The light was there I " And still He speaks, and changes not; and still " Men struggle through the darkness unto day, " And yet shall strive till wickedness and ill " Shall pass away. " Press on, and quail not : not for thee the ease " That sleeps, reclined, 'mid purple and 'mid gold ; " Yet there await thee better things than these, " And joy untold." Weak dreamer ! through the chequered ways of life Take up thy weary burden undismayed ; Eternal Love is watching o'er the strife To cheer and aid : Eternal Love, that sees thy wayward mood, And mourns each vain repining and each sigh ; And, like a hen that calls its wandering brood With frequent cry. And beats against the prison-bars in vain. And opes its wings for those that will not hear, Heaven summons thee unheeded, and the strain Falls on the ear MEDITATION. As when one calls a dreamer, and the word, In veriest mockery and vain pretence, Falls lightly on the fancy; not unheard, But void of sense. Yet, surely, not so meaningless to thee Should Heaven's high call and invitation seem : Shake off the sleep ; let life no longer le An empty dream. Press onwards on thy rugged way. Be strong; And, 'midst thy journey, be this motto thine— 'Tis human to bewail each fancied wrong ; To bear. Divine. 68 i IJ 64 THE MUTINY. ON THE INDIAN MASSACRES. t, i THE MUTINY.— TIDINGS. If mortal man could leave his resting-place And dwell upon some mighty orb that rolls Far oiF by an eternity of miles, E'en there would be no spot that he might shun The cries of him who, fashioned by the hand And in the image of the Holy One, delights To mar his work. For, as the years roll on By fits and starts, the huge earth's flashing light Grows hid in clouds of blood ; and, in the stead Of her loud song of praise, the hum and whirl Of this our mighty planet, speeding on Her giddy revolutions, comes a cry That tingles through the realms of space, and shakes The shivering stars in passing on to God. And so in this our day, when all the lands Were resting from their common jars, and men Grew sleepily luxurious, murmuring "peace" When noi was near us ; suddenly the sky Has opened o'er our heads, and poured forth A vial, changing half the earth to blood, And filling us with darkness, and a fear More terrible than darkness ; waking us From sleep, that lay reclined on cloth of gold And fanned with perfumed breezes, till we stood Half stupefied, while underneath the feet Of those we loved best, gaping ghastlily, Hell opened wide her mouth, and swallowed them With swift destruction, flame, and seas of gore. THE MUTimr. Was it the Spirit of the Northern Light That swept along the heavens, that the air Should grow blood-red, and, starting at the hue, Writhe, serpent-like, upon itself, and groan And mutter with ita fitful voices things Half plain, half hidden, dimly fashioned, That struck like wails of goblins on the ear. And curdled all the life-stream ; until n"^n Grew deadly sick, and quailed and shrai.^ amazed, Scarce knowing why they shuddered, so confused Yet fraught with meaning was it ? Or the sea, That, roaming through ii faintly-lighted dells, Came on a heap of dead mon's skulls that grinned And gibbered at their murderer ; and so Fled to its deepest hiding-place, and there Muttered and murmured melancholy strains That maddened at their own remorseful tale Till all the hollow shells and massive rocks Sent back throughout the deadened waste a sound To strike men dumb with terror ? Or the earth That, casting up her daily sum of sin To shout it out to Him who dwells on high From all her hills and valleys, suddenly Came on a crime so fearful that her voice Broke with the cry, and she could do no more Than mutter, like an idiot, to herself? For all the air was heavy, and a dread. Fearful yet undefined, was on men's minds, As when the ghost-seer, through the solemn gloom. Notes where some corner looms, in dull relief A blacker night, and shrinks, he knows not why. And when sweet sleep should rest upon their eyes, And Silence spread her mantle round the globe M^U toSSffl nnnp 4^1>aix -fi^vT^^i l,„„_i._J t---!-, ii — -> —....!, ,.ttvii ±1. r\ji-iiauuiCU UUUS 65 E iii i i iMi ii V i rM' i vnii i i i Mtwii J 66 THE MUTINY. And seemed to hear dull noises flitting round, That ever and anon would break the shroud Of their surrounding mystery, and shriek, In ears that echoed to them, " Woe I woe I woe ! " And so, aa dragged along the weary time. Men took no pleasure in the joys of life. But, glaring on each other, whispered low — " What is it that is happening, and where ? " What is 't that will befall us ? Who can tell ? " But none could answer, till one fearful morn Rose with a wail from out the blood-stained East, And howled again to hear itself; and lo 1 As lightning cleaves the murky clouds with noise Of thunder, every dull prophetic sound Leapt into shrieking being — plain, too plain. With moans of mothers, and with cries of babes. And roaring cataracts that gurgled blood. And horrors still more horrible. But then Clashed up to Heaven an awful answering cry From all the rocks that gird fair England round, And mighty cities, where the busy din Of rumbling carts and hurried tramp of men Vexes throughout the day the swarming streets j And little villages, where ancient spires (With heads o'ergrown with ivy, and with feet Nestling 'mid all the flowery stores of earth) Ring out their happy chimes to Sabbath winds ; And huts on lonely moorlands, where the grouse Haunts the red heather (for, with one dire shock. Like to an earthquake, it convulsed the land). And men, whose heads were hoary with the snows Of wintry Time— for whom the grave had gaped. And chilled their pulses with its summonings — Stood side by side with beardless boys, and maids, Whose teens had not yet numbered all their springs, ■ VENGEANCE. gj And cried for vengeance, wearying High Heaven With ceaseless prayers and importunities, And thirst for blood that could not be appeased. For tears were dried with flame, and none could weep, Or spare one word for dear-loved memories, Or breathe one sigh for harrowing tragedies ; But " Vengeance I vengeance ! vengeance I " was the shout That answered to the voices whispering " woe ! " " VENGEANCE." Up with the Eed Cross Banner, fair Empress of the seas. The 4ag that waves so haughtily upon the fresh'ning breeze; For never yet, in sorest time of need, did England fail To hear the sufferer's cry for help, and answer to his wail. From many a stately city, and from many a fort of pride Our brethren's blood is gurgling in an ever-swelling tide • And tales come rushing o'er the sea that fiends might quail to hear, And the shrieks of maids and orphans are ringing on the ear. "Well may they dread to meet us, and seek to hide their shame Behind the fated towers that rouse the English blood to flame- That flame that burns till recompense be taken for the slain, And Delhi's walls be numbered with the cities of the plain. Why tell us of forgiveness ? Ours is no idle song, The cry of tortured children, of th' unutterable wrong. Ho, men of England I nerve your arms upon the blood-stained sod, And strike, if England ever struck, for justice and for God! Not this the time for charity for yon accursed brood ; With a mighty shout to Heaven goes up the cry of blood. Close thicker round the standards I grasp tighter yet the sword ! For man must be the worker of the vengeance of the Lord. i lit ' J I I I i^.l 68 BITHOOR. BITHOOR. Cease from thy lamentations, thou loved one of the free ; Ring out, ring out a merry peal across the heaving sea ; Shout till the heavens echo back to earth the joyful strain. For the injured have been righted, and the wrong repaired again. Ah, little did the foe dream, when they thought thy strength was done, That thy haughty scroll of victory was scarcely yet begun : Now let Bithoor bear witness, from her heaps of gory slain. That the injured have been righted, and the wrong repaired again. They said our arm had failed us, they said our heart was cold ; They thought the untamed lion, as a dog, was bought and sold ; But there comes a cry of vengeance from many a blood-stained plain,, And the injured have been righted, and the wrong repaired again. Yet so their native tiger, when they least expect him nigh. Gleams, flashing through the parting air, upon the startled eye : He might have taught the cowards that caution was in vain. That the injured would be righted, and the wrong repaired again. Ho, daughters of fair England, that glad the gazing eye ! Ho, men of merry England I raise a free-born English cry : Ho, bells of England ! wrangle out from temple and from fane, For the injured have been righted, and the wrong repaired again. Give forth the glorious standard to every wind that blows, The highest boast of freedom, the terror of its foes ; And gunners hail it proudly, with the mimic thunc . roar, Till the notes reach England's bravest sons, the victors at Cawnpore. PASTINa. 69 done, n. ilain,! n. pore. " FASTING." Hark! 'midst the songs of triumph, an under-onrrent swells, As when one hears thi'ough bridal peals the slow funereal bells ; And so for aye the lesson comes, since first we drew the breath : 'Mid fond caress, 'mid conquerors' cheer, in life remember death. Oh ! still the victors' shout, all ye to whom our England's dear, And bow the head, and bend the knee, and drop the silent tear, And keep a solemn fast-day, while there struggles to the sky A nation's agony of prayer to Him who dwells on high. Cry out, and spare not. Let the Heavens reecho to the tale, The weary tale of sin and woe— earth's everlasting wail. With weeping and with groaning, let all the wide-spread land Seek Him who holds the nations in the hollow of His hand. And, oh I in that one solemn day of mourning and of gloom, When we who live cry out for those who dreed the dreadful doom. Hear Thou, oh loving Father, who hearest every prayer, The orphan's sad sad cry of woe, the widow's wan despair; And comfort Thine afflicted, Thine by sorrow and by woe (Stern monitors that tear the heart to Heaven from things below). And teach them that in tenderest love Thy chastenings were sent. As one might bruise the flower that thence gives but a fuller scent ; And be Thou judge between us and the workers of their ill, And, as Thou wert in times of old, be God of Vengeance still ; For thou alone art holy, everlasting Lord, And in Thy name alone we dare to lift th' avenging sword. Yes I if we seek for vengeance, we seek not as the brute That treads man in his senseless rage beneath his ponderous foot : 'Tis Justice cries and hounds us on along the awful track, And we were less than men indeed to shudder and turn back. 70 THE LOST. Ill I' I il I ^i' I Oh city of a thousand crimes I Oh drunk, but not with wine I Oh gorgeous with the blood-red gold drawn from a bloody mine I How is thy once proud name accurst through all the lapse of years, By wrongs that never may be spoke, by Treason, Death, and Tears I I ' :i "THE LOST." Far in the midnight heaven the little cloudlets sleep ; Sweet peace is with the firmament, sweet calm upon the deep. How still they rest upon their thrones, those monarchs of the sky Bright emblems of the glad repose of them that dwell on high. Not so for thee, child of earth ! for thee there comes no rest ; And weary is thy saddened life, e'en from thy mother's breast. Hold up thy cup of joy ! Oh fool I ere thou canst hold it up Death hurls his whirlwinds o'er thy head and dashes down the cup. And so there comes no hope — not one— to bid thy sorrows cease. What boots it that they talk of peace ? thou know'st there is no peace. The Holy One who dwells on high alone can dry the tear : Cry, till the heavens hear thy woe, if Heaven will deign to hear. Oh, dear ones I loved and mourned too well ! what power shall fill your place ? Who shall bring back to us who weep the long-remembered face Ye live, our bleeding hearts know well, in perfect joy above We are but men, we feel but this, the loss of those we love. Oh, Father I Father I pity us, whose griefs are but begun ; Teach us, who chafe beneath Thy rod, to say " Thy will be done "; And bring us to Thee, e'en through paths that teem with bitterest woe, That we may meet with those above we ne'er shall see below. Lo ! scenes of glory greet mine eyes ; the heavens arc rolled away ; All sorrow flitteth as the night before that I laze of day. Yea Lord, we will not doubt thy truth whate'er may be in store : The earth shall perish, but thy love shall last .»or evermore. I I DELHI. 71 8, rsl e. rour voe. DELHI. Oa all tho stately city the autumn sun is bright ; A thousand ppires are g^'ttering beneath the glare of light : And many a lofty minaret, and many a haughty fane, Gives proudly back the happy rays it ne'er may see again. For lo ! there comes a murmur upon the languid breeze, As when one hoars tho droning of a mighty swarm of bees; And those who listen shudder at the sullen far-off sound, That whispers through the heavens, and that mutters o'er the ground. And ever when the wind grovs high it seems to wail and moan, Till from its depth of sadness it draws a fiercer tone ; And surges on and maddens, till at last it sweeps along With a dreadful shout of vengeance for more than mortal wrong. No more a dim confused sound as erst it came before : It rises o'er the booming of the sullen cannon roar, With blare of bugle ringing out upon the startled ear. And tramp of armies, and a shout — the good old English cheer ! Hurrah for the stout English cheer ! In many a well-fought field The good old cry has risen o'er the clang of sword and shield. Hurrah for the brave English arms that struggle in the van ! That strike so gallantly and well for justice and for man 1 Well mayst thou quail, proud city I Thy meteor race is run. E'en now thy blood-red glories pale before the rising sun ; For those that strike no woman's blow are gathering round thy walls. And spirits of the murdered ones are brooding o'er thy halls. Oh, withered be thy coward hearts, and palsied be thy bands, That dyed in hapless maidens' blood their trebly-cursed hands ! Ho, men of England ! spare the wolf that snuffs the tainted breeze ; iiut, as ye value life and soul, strike deep — spare none of these. ' hi < SsSm 72 TRIUMPH. i ' ' M Is.if I I' ' I If I f i , ; « f i r\ L i«i Hurrah I hurrah ! The vulture shall have dainty feasts, I ween ; The grass that's fed with traitor's blood shall glitter still more green. Hurrah ! the slinking wolf shall have a palace for his den, And jackals hide among the courts that held the treacherous men. Nay I leave not e'en one blade of grass in all th' accursed place, No stone to tell the fearful doom of yonder fated race ; And, should your hearts grow sickened at the slaughter of the foe, Think on fair maidens wronged and slain, and lay the cowards low : That so for aye the desert place, where once the city stood, May seem as when a fire has swept along a stately wood; And through the years strong men may quail and shudder aa they tell What fnllest vengeance England took, how quick she struck and well. "TKIUMPH." Yes ! when the gloom is deepest, and darkness over all Draws closest round the still-struck earth her dull funereal pall, Brignt rays come dancing from the East athwart the heavy night, And through the sullen clouds there pours the happy morning light, Till all the hills grow purple, and the heavens are um-oUed In many-tinted hues of blood, of azure and of gold ; An(^ Silence flies affrighted, for the breeze that glides along Grows joyous with the low of herds and gush of morning song. More fiery day has burst our gioom, a dawning still more red, And haughty shouts sweep on the breeze o'er reeking heaps of dead ; Yet echo back, oh heavens, and join the fierce exulting cry ; The meteor brand is quenched in blood, and hisses to the sky. Hurrah I Their guilty masses broke, in terror and despair. As when the levin bursts the clouds that freight the sullen air ; Like chaff, when wintry winds blow strong along the quaking plain, They fled before th' avengers, and the spectres of the slain. n. '' CAWNPORB. The vultures heard the well-known din and gathered from afar, And flapped their heavy wings and soared above the mists of war ; But now they gorge and rend the prey 'mid carnage and 'mid mire, Or sit, in ghastly glutted sleep, on minaret and spiro. Break out in shouts, happy earth, from all thy thousand hills, Where, chattering to the lazy air, leap down the merry rills ; And answer, all ye seas, and break upon the answering shore. With crested wave on crested wave, in long triumphal roar. And bellow forth, ye cannon, with your ever-swelling boom. Shake all the nations with your notes of victory and doom; For well your deep-mouthed voices spread dismay among the foe, When Heaven helped the right of man and laid the boasters low. Yes ! not to us the victory, and not to us the praise : He struck for us who showed His might in Israel's favoured days. Bow down, silver-coasted isle, in reverence and fear, For God hath spoken from on high— the Lord of Hosts is near. T3 CAWNPORE. Dark mist on the horizon, and darker still on high, Heaven's cloudy pall is lowering o'er all the saddened sky : The chill winds writhe and struggle with their sorrow as they go, And earth is wet with Nature's tears for those who lie below. For there, in yonder court-yard, gapes the very mouth of Hell- Accursed through ages yet to come— the dark and silent well ; And there the stately palm-tree rears its horrid growth above, Fat with the dashed-out brains of babes and tears of those we love. Hark to the cry, Heaven, and ope your shuddering portals wide I Oh, Earth I Earth ! yawn not to drink up the full ensanguined tide I From mountain and from valley, from river and from creek, a _i„ ,, fjiyya Oi iUKALjievi ncuuia it lUUUSUUU lOngUGS tO OpeaK. ! I N IL, 74 SCOTLAND. t'l > ill ill *| E! ■, 'iB Thank God, our clouds are breaking I List to the cannon's roar, That wakens fron> - hundred palms the echoes of Cawnpore ; Sweet voice; ia juur uon throats! sweet incense in your wrath That majKS iu storma of flame and blood the brave avengers' path 1 See I high above the battle-clouds, the lion standard blows ! Small hope, I ween, for those who dared to break its grim repose ; The bugle-call rings sharp nnd clcax upon the startled air, And English hands grasp tight the sword, and English hearts are there. Hurrah ! the dark earth quakes and reels beneath their chargers' tread ; Their squadrons rush in living light o'er heaps of traitor dead : Shout out, cannon ! bellow forth your notes of fiery glee When England's sons, in blood and mire, grasp such full victory I Now blessings on the good stout hands that struck for England's right. And blessings on the grey-haired head that planned that noble fight ; For many a glorious victory has graced our scrolls before, But none so bright as that one field of vengeance at Cawnpore. SCOTLAND. Fierce strife in all the sounding town, and round the quaking towers That hold young babes, and hoary heads, and beauty's fairest flowers ; And louder swell the shouts of foes, and higher still and higher All day the war-cloud rolls aloft, all night the pillared fire. Like those dry bones of ancient writ the few defenders stand j The fire has left the dauntless eye, its might hath left the hand : But, better than all numbers, and better than the sword, The living corpses move beneath the Spirit of the Lord. They gaze ! No helper cometh, no rescue seemeth nigh. And thicker broods the horrid smoke, and darker frowns the sky j And solemnly and fearfully upon the ear there falls TriA nnnminrr nf flio Tioairrr ornna tVta /»i.oaVi5Tic» '^^ tV>f •"'"11° SCOTLAND. 75 e. I; But lo I the combat thickens, and the battle closes round With rapid roll of musketry, and trembling of the ground ; And low and stern amid the din is borne upon the breeze A sharp shrill droning, as the voice of angry swarms of bees. Hush I 'tis a woman's sudden scream ! " Oh joy ! they come, they come I " I hear the bonny Hieland pipes, the Saxon's rolling drum I " Hold well your own, ye gallant men I A few short moments more '* Shall see your foemen scattered, as the breakers on the shore." They listen ! All around them raves the thunder of the fight, The groans and shrieks and shouts and yells, that tear the startled night : They hear the deep guns bellow, but they hear not through the trees The sharp shrill droning, as the threats of angry swarms of bees. " Ye dinna hear it, comrades ? No I no I I dinna rave : " Full weel I know the distant voice of them that come to save. " Ah ! oft in happier days I've heard and kenned the Campbells' ca', " And good McGreggors' slogan fierce, the grandest of them a'." They look ! and far to right and left the battle-clouds are broke. And ridge on ridge of dark blue steel gleams coldly through the smoke; And sharper still, and shriller yet, is borne upon the breeze The droning of the Hieland pipes, like angry swarms of bees. And as the mountain torrent, when its icy chain hath gone, Sweeps down with roar of angry wave and crash of rock and stone. They burst through struggling foes, they breast the flames of traitor guns The sturdy hearts, the good right hands, of bonnie Scotland's sons. Oh, flourish long, the good old land ! Though rugged to the view, Not England's gallant self can boast of sons more brave and true ; And long be heard where Scotland's cliffs are washed by foaming seas The droning of the Hieland pipes, like angry swarms of bees. 70 HAVELOOK. " HAVELOCK. " Oh brightly breaks the welcome day, and proudly bursts the light O'er rolling clouds of burnished gold upon the sullen night ; And, like the ocean's distant roar, the swift wind sweeps along Through bending tops of pine-trees, with its load of morning song. But not for us the joyousness that greets the happy rays; Our hearts are all untuned to join the grateful hymns of praise. Alas I oh weary, weary earth, thy children better know The voice of lamentation, and the bitter wail of woe. A thousand heroes grace our scrolls, but none more brave than he Who taught us in our direst need to grasp the victory : Now who will hear us when wo call, and help us in our pain ? The sword lies idly iu the sheath that never struck in vain. Oh ! true stout Iieart, that beat so firm when all the reeking air Waa fraught with cries of deadly wrong, of terror and despair ! Oh I strong right hand, that scattered death among the serried foe, How is our tower fallen! how is the mighty low I Ah me I thy place is vacant now, dear hope of the distressed That brought'st to anxious bosoms peace, to weary eyelids rest. No more thy well-remembered voice shall cheer thy little band ; No more on battle-field thine arm shall wield the avenging brand. Hushed be the strains of triumph ; tread noiselessly around ; The spot that holds a hero's corpse may well be holy ground. A mightier conqueror than he hath bowed the gallant head ; The flag he led to victory droops sadly o'er the dead. Not so ! unconquered in his life, unconquered e'en in death, He fought his proudest battle-field in that last parting breath. Shout cannon that he knew so well, till all the echoes rin^- " Oh grave, where is thy victory ? oh death, where is thy sting ? " r r GWALIOR. 77 Heisnotl-*'' nor sleepeth. He who set the captive free ' Join? film, wT >, rising to the skies, led bound Captivity. Nut J is the meanest, mother-laud, of all thy haughty boasts,— The ■ :i. \ led Uiine armies here reigna with the Lord of Hosts. GWALIOR. The cannon's roar had died away, the battle^jlang waa o'er ; A soldier knelt beside his friend, by blood-stained Gwalior : The cold, death-sweat was on his brow, the life was ebbing fast; In many a stricken field he'd fought— he lay upon his last. " Raise me a little, comrade : I fain would see again The good old flag wave haughtily upon the well-won plain, And see once more the friends who stood beside me on this day, And hear their shouts of victory, before I pass away. " Before I pass away 1 Ah me 1 the sorrow that will come, When tidings reach them of my death, upon my village home : The little cot, that nestled in its ivy robe of green. Shall change its happy smiles for tears, and breaking hearts, I ween. " My gray-haired mother, comrade ! I was her pride and joy : I know she's thinking now of me, and clasps in thought her boy. If e'er you should get back again go seek her out from me, And say I wait her in the land where death shall never be. " Tell her I died without a grief, for that I full well knew The words she used to read to me were holy words and true. The large old Bible of my sires— she'll find there, in her pain, A comfort for the loss of me till we shall meet again. " And bid her speak to Lucy, and tell her not to weep (She best can comfort aching hearts whose sorrow is as deep). Ah well I He orders all things well ! but had He spared my life, AiUvi I iiad got back Loma again, Luoy had boea my wife. f 78 SONG. \: ii " She must not grieve I — my pretty one ! — although I come no more ; She must not mourn my fall beneath the heights of Gwalior. The English blood is in her veins — its fire lights up her eye : Say I struck well for woman's wrongs — she'll triumph though I die. " Die I I shall live ! With all her faults, our noble England knows Full well to honour those who fall in battle with her foes. Go, tell my darling, when she weeps, to turn and find my name Where England decks her precious dead in all her ancient fame. " Ah me I A mist is on my eyes I and yet methinks I see The little homestead, ivy-clad, that nestles on the lea : My mother knits within the porch j my darling, in the flowers, Bosses the rose I planted there, and counts the lingering hours. " They smile ! They dream of my return, when I shall tread again The grand old hill I loved so well, the daisy-covered plain ; And still the hill shall tower aloft, but they shall bow the head Where yonder yew-tree bends its boughs to whisp-^r to the dead. Bo still ! The mist has cleared away — a light breaks through the air ; It teems with strange and lovely shapes, and I too should be there. I hear the shrill-drawn clarions' sound, the mustering squadrons' hum ; Comrade ! the roll is being called I Lord of all Hosts, I come ! " SONG. One thought for the soldier who lies far away, In the land he's ennobled for ages ; Though his name be not writ in our scroll of day. Rich with heroes, and martyrs, and sages. Unknown though fca be, yet for him the deep sigh Shall be breathed from the proud lips of beauty ; For he died — as an Englidhman ever would die — For his country, his God, and his duty. .i&. I SONG. 79 On the graves of his fathers the grass groweth high, And the yew o'er their tombstone is sighing ; But the palm that shoots up to the Indian sky Marks the spot where a conqu'ror is lying. His sisters shall weep in the old village home, Until death of their sorrows relieve them ; But he sleeps far away, o'er the lone ocean's foam, With the glory that never shall leave him. 80 HAGAR AND I8HMAEL. HAGAR AND ISHMAEL. 11 IS : % h h A FRAGMENT. Yes ! there are times in man's short span of years Marked out for sorrow, and bedewed with tears ; When the vexed soul, with cares untold opprest, Pants for relief, and pinee to be at rest j When, midst the troubles of life's stormy war, E'en her own God has seemed to stand afar; And those bright hopes that bore her on her path Have flagged and drooped in terror at His wrath. Yet, when the tempest thundered at its height, A sudden ray has broken on the night ; And countless years of peace, without alloy. Were naught to that short hour of maddened joy. Wide on the eye the desert's sand-»vave& glare- No shade on earth, no coolness in the air j No bird's light pinion cuts the yielding breeze, No soft winds murmur to the list'ning trees : E'en the stern eagle's sun-defying eye Would weep hot tears before yon cloudless sky. Thi; cajnel's much-enduring soul would tire ; The salamander in such heat expire. So dire a furnace nature seems to glow — Fierce flame in heaven, and fiercer flame below. Hark ! whence that wail ? It cut the panting air,- One long, loud voice of terror and despair; Such, and so mournful, as the poets feign Lost spirits utt jr in their deadly pain ; And earth grows still, and trembles at the cry The shout of more than human agony. l TEST TARGET (MT-3) V // O *.■ 1.0 Hs; I.I .25 2.5 ? «s IIIIM U 1IIIII.6 '/r V) ^J ^ #: ^> wJ'^i s>. 7 Photographic Sdences Coiporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 ^J.%. 'ife" 4o> ^//.% 90 ANCIENT EUNEEML HTiilN. ANCIENT FUNERAL HYMN. " We give thee hearty thanks for that it hath pleased thee to deUver this our brother out of the miseries of this sinful worW— Burial Service. Wake thee, brother ! wake thee now ! O'er thee brighter day is breaking : Though death's seal has stamped thy brow, Life was sleep, and death the waking : Far away has fled the night, Breaks on thee the heavenly light. Wake thee, brother \ We, bereft, Here are prey to care and sorrow ; Eat, though thou thy friends hast left, We shall join thee on the morrow j Though thou sleep'st thy last long Dear one, not for thee we weep, i Not for thee I Thy soul on high Soars, its fleshly fetters riven : Ours is earth's captivity, Thine the liberty of heaven. Brother I hear the strains we raise, Mingled hymns of joy and praise. Brother I in thy last sharp pain, When the Angel spoke in thunder, Christ, the Conqueror, again Burst death's prison-bars asunder ! Raise Ihe song of triumph high : Grave I where is thy victory ? i* u. V IS our ANCIANT FUNEREAL HYMN. Vain the seal, and vain the tomb, When they sought to stay the sleeper ; Vain the watch in midnight gloom, Vain the mourning of the weeper : Seal and tomb, and watoh and sword Fled before the living Lord. Brother I in thine upward flight Bear no parting words of sadness ; Earth shall herald thee to light With her holiest hymns of gladness ; We, bereaved though we be. Praise our loving God &r thee. n m I iHillllllPI) MM wtm 92 THE NIXIE. I THE NIXIE. " The Nixies were water-spirits that were believed to sit nightly by the rivers and lakes of Germany, mourning for the redemption that was promised to man, out denied to them." I heard a cry in the still twilight, When the aspens danced in the breath of night, And the placid sheen of the cold moonlight Came down in a silver flood ; When its brilliant hues had left the West As the sun sank down to his watery rest. And the towering height of the mountain crest Lost its last siain of bloou. Close by, the turbulent sea lay spread, Like a mighty sheet of molten lead. And the foam that had whitened his hoary head Had died in his calm repose. But mightier still, and still more nigh. With peaks that shot up to the uppermost sky. The hills loomed mightily, grand and high. Like warriors watching their foes. It came with a sad, mellifluous flow, And the sound of a wailing, deep and low, Till it maddened to shrieks of the bitterest woe, Like a spirit that wrestled with pain ; And echo woke up from her rock-nursed sleep And shouted them out from valley and steep. Till they writhed and moaned o'er the startled deep, That roared back an answering strain. But the spirit-like voice, so woe-begone, Through the dark'ning night went solemnly on. Till it wearied of earth, and fled up to the throne Of Eternal Majesty. nvers I man, THE NIXIE. Struggling, and fighting, and laden wit!) care, It laboured up through the star-lit air, Bearing aloft its agonized prayer To Hipi who dwelleth on high. " All round a happy silence reigns ; Thy love is brooding o'er the plains, Thy love upon the hills : The forests know thy calm, Lord ; Thy sleep is on the flowery sward, Thy blessing on the rills. E'en thy rebellious creature, man. Whose sins with earliest life began, Looks to the promised rest ; But we who sinned have fall'n foi re. No tears may wash our guilt away, "We never may be blest. The meanest things have hope ; but we, Though Time itself shall cease to be, May never respite know : For us no blood has e'er been shed ; For us no God has bowed his head, And trod the earth below : Thou, who liv'st enthroned on high. Take back this immortality. This heritage of woe." It died away, with a long-drawn sigh ; But the clouds rolled back from the pitying sky, And sweet from the throne of God's Majesty Came words of pardon and peace. Spirit of woe, hear the will of Heaven : Thy tears are accepted, thy past forgiven, And the chain that bound thee to earth is riven ; Cease to mourn j Spirit, cease. 98 mmmili9. wmm wmmmmm 94 I i 'i;\*v ' MORNINa HYMN. MORNING HYMN. Lo ! the solemn night has past, Day hath dawned on earth at last, And around me sounds the voice, Bidding all thy works rejoice ; Yet for me my rest has gone, Comes my battle with the sun : Master ! as I greet the light, Arm me for the ooming fight. As this mom I leave my bed Snares on every aide are spread, Evil spirits in their wrath Lie in wait around my path. In the weary contest, Lord, Guide me by thy mighty word .; Quell the foeman's haughty boasts ; Give me strength, Lord of Hosts. Lord ! through many a long past day Sin hath led my feet astray ; Now I know my feebleness, Now I dread the wilderness. When the wolves of sin are nigh, Hear the pack's accursed cry: Shepherd, let Thy power keep Me, a wand'ring, feeble dieep. Through the darkness, as I slept, Me Thy tender love hath kept j As Thou then didst ward off ill, Through the daylight keep me still ; 4 ■ '^■_^Fr-n^te*~'~-'-' >\ ^ MORNING HYMN. Though I hail the light again, Sin is worse than dying pain : Thou, who on the cross didst bleed. Help me in my utmost need. And when on a brighter day Heaven and earth shall pass away. And the light that breaks on me Shine through all eternity, — Through the blood that opens Heaven, Saviour I be my sins forgiven ; Father ! wake me from my sleep ; Shepherd I claim Thine erring sheep. 95 ^i I W I [ ll iL IIII . I L P^ i,Ml.llijI|i!lii,,ra»i^«!IJL!J»JljPP?| *■- 96 A PARODY. A PARODY. A life on the ocean wave Was never the life for me ; When the scattered waters rave, I'd rather not be on the sea. Like an eagle caged I pine, But not for the sea, but the shore j Oh, hang all the flashing brine. The storm, and the tempest's roar. Oh, a life on the ocean wave Was never the life for me ; When the scattered waters rave, I'd rather not be on the sea. You've scarce been an hour on board When you lie like a log of dead wood ; The dinner is seen and abhorred. For you wouldn't eat meat if you could. You go on the deck for fresh air, And you sit in the piercing wind ; But the "ocean-wave" follows you there. And you're drenched both before and behind. Oh, a life on the ocean wave Was never the life for me, &c. The waters rise higher and higher. The clouds are beginning to frown. And were I at home by the fire I'd say, " Let the storm come down 1 " M S^^^T^r^ V--^*^".*l«P|l!.'!p^|Ji|W' ff A PARODY. And the song of my heart should be, To such geese as had left the shore,— " How like you the heaving sea, The storm, and the tempest's roar ?" Oh, a life on the ocean wave Was never the life for me, &c. Oh, it's all very well, when on land, To sing of the sea and all that; But, when once you've left sight of the strand, You'll alter your tune, and that's flat. Young ladies, who ne'er were at sea. Of its beauties and pleasures may rave j But, if once on a vessel, like me, How they'd loathe every " ocean wave ! " Oh, a life on the ocean wave Was never the life for me ; When the scattered waters rave, I'd rather not be on the sea. 97 d. « I 98 WORK. WORK. Kver there goetli up to the heavens the same sad tale,- The eompkint of weakness, seeking relief in a womanish wail ; And hearts borne down in life's war, with troubles and griefs oppressed. Send up the querulous cry of weariness, asking for rest. Rest I there is none but in labour, for labour alone bringeth peace ; And the mind that is wearied with toil hath bidden its sorrows cease. Away with the maudlin doctrines they fain would teach in schools,- Dreams of philosophers, follies of women, ravings of fools. Work ye ! for all things work,-the greatest as well as the small ; E'en He, the Mighty One, toiled,-the Lord and Creator of all,- When through the gathered darkness of ages the mandate came I^the sun shone on boiling sea., and mountains that melted m flame. I. there no other refuge ? None : what else would we crave ? Love may be lasting, or not, and friendship be broke by the grave. Evervthin^ else bringeth sorrow,-love, hatred, or hope, or fear, Se Trul that lives only in work, neither trouble nor woe cometh near. Set veto work with a will I The anchor that drags on the sands Ie!by the cheerful song that lends strength to the sturdy hands ; Ld :! else that, when Adam fell, was first pronounced on the sod, Sturdily grappled with, yieldeth rest,-the blessing of God. ( ■"i^«^«j^^r — THE DOVE. 99 ssed. ic. flame. 1 near. inds; sod, THE DOVE. O'er a cool, limpid fount bent a beautiful dovej The blue arch of heaven was shining above, And the lark fluttered up with a carol of love. Thousands of flowers were blooming around; Dew-drops lay glittering over the ground ; And the stream trickled by with a musical sound. But the dove of this beautiful scene beheld nought; The crystalline water her shadow had caught, And only that image her soft glances sought. And a murmur stole forth from the neighbouring grove, A murmur of plainlivo, petitioning love ; But no tender response gave the beautiful dove. Like an efligy skilfully carved out of stone. Fixed, she leaned o'er the brink of the fountain alone ; And she moved not when forth from the grove came a'moan. But swiftly the brightness of summer-noon passed ; The blue arch of heaven a cloud overcast, And there came the cold-rain and the pitiless blaat. The gay landscape changed to a vision of gloom; The flowers were robbed of their sweetness and bloom ; And the rude tempest ruffled the dove's tender plume,' And she made by the fountain her sorrowful moan ; In its chilled, troubled waters her changed image shone ; And she pined there forgotten, and sighed there alone. ' Lady-love, listen ! the moral is strong : The dove's emblematic of many a one ; The moan, that deep feeling afiection has strung. 100 CHILDHOOD. CHILDHOOD. Blushes are on the snow Where the Western sun is dying, And night comes creeping above and below, And the evening breeze is sighing ; I sit by my little one's bed Watching her quiet sleep, While around on, the fire-lit wall and o'erhead The flickeriug shadows creep ; Watching the blaze thao streams From the ruddy lips of the fire, And my child that slcips while its mother dreams Of her darling babe and its sire — What in the days to come, Shall my own little one be ? The pride and the joy of her happy home, And her God's to eternity ? How sweetly the downcast lid On the sleeping eye reposes, And the bloom of her cheek, half seen, half hid, Gleams like the buds of roses. The little hand is at rest, Under the golden hair, And the snow-while coverlet over her breast Seems scarce with her breath to stir. What does my baby see, That a smile comes over her face ? Does my pretty one think of her father and me, And her little sister's grace ? CfllLDnoOD. What childish fancy pleases her now That she looka so sweet and mild, And brightens up from lip to brow, With the grave calm smile of a child ? A smile, and nothing more, Quiet and soft, and seldom scea, Stealing like summer breezes o'er. And leaving the baby face serene; A ripple upon the wave, Fading away in the joy of its birth, And leaving the water calm and grave, In a beauty not known by earth. Is she not mine , God-given ? And now, when she laughs in her dreams, I know Her angel speaks with her Father in heaven, Of her who sees Him in visions below : I gaze with awe, and with half-stayed breath, For methinks, not faintly shadowed, I trace The peace that I pray may be hers till death. And the joy that rests on an angel's face. 101 K 102 NORTHERN LIGHTS. NORTHERN LIGHTS. Oh, let me dream for awhile Under the winter sky, Dream of the light of a vanished smile, And the hope of a day gone by : Dream of a lovely face. And the grace of a lovely head. And the form that I clasped in a fond embrace - Let ni<3 dream for awhile of the dead. Dead ! can it be I am here Whispering this to my heart ? Dead ! and I have not one welcome tear To soften the inward smart ? Dead ! and I cannot pray, For I think of my love that is gone. And the hope that was withered in one short day Has blasted my heart to stone. What have I left but to dream Of my love that is laid in her rest, To live as I lived, for my life's years seem But an empty dream at the best ? Everything round is still, • And white as a new made shroud, From the snow-clad lea to the pines on the hill. And tne fleecy veil of the cloud. Here on the snow I lie Seeking a balm for care. Looking up to the blank of the sky And the blue uf the fathumleciS air. NORTHERN LIGHTS. Hark I how the chill winds wail, And shiver and moan in their flight, What a depth of woe in the sorrowful tale They tell in the ear of night. What is it that makes them sad ? Do they miss the grace of the flowers ? And sigh for the time when their breath was glad With the sweets of the summer hours. Ye do well, chill winds, to rave. For the day of your brides has fled, The earth lies heavy and cold on their grave, They are dead and she too is dead I 103 II. Swoon into sleep, oh Night, For the air is heavy and still, And the shimmering glance of the moonbeam's light Comes down with a deadly chill. Oh sink pale orb in the west, Sink down in the west till I see Her who lies oold in her last long rest Waiting alone for me. Last eve in my dreams the veil Of the frost-bound earth was gone And I saw her lying all cold and pale Like an angel fashioned in stone : The glance that could give me life Was asleep in the downcast eye, But the rose of thy lips, oh love, oh wife ! Was bright with a smile from on high. 104 NORTHERN LIGHTS. How sweet was her calm repose And the smile that told of Heaven, No passion, no tear, no fears, no woes. But the bliss of sin forgiven. I heard the flakes of the snow Fall soft though the winter air, And the foul worm crawl from his couch below, But I knew that her God was there. There, in the silent grave. Whence everything else had fled. Was the presence of Him who had died to save. Watching the sleep of the dead. There was the Lord of Hosts Guarding the rest of my sweet, And Death, with his conqueror's pride and boasts, Crouched down at her Father's feet. Let me dream thus again Seeing her under the sward : What better relief for my heavy pain, Than to know her there with her Lord ? Farewell for a time, dear love, Methinks I have much to learn For a strange light moves in the heavens above, And a voice that bids me return. IIL Over all the shrouded mountain reigns the death-like calm of sleep Hushed the murmur of the fountain, and the winds have ceased to weep, Not a moan or voice of sighing echoes through the silent night, KvA the wcst^jm moon lies dying in a flood of silver light : NORTHERN LIGHTS. 105 But where yonder stars reclining on their thrones gleam bright and clear Strange mysterious rays are shining, and a rustle strikes my ear, Comes a whisper pure and saintly, as of angels speaking low, Comes a lustre pale and faintly, gleaming o'er the sparkling sdow. Now retreating, now advancing, seeming now to faint and die. Tongues of lambent fire are glancing o'er the azure of the sky Rustling as the flags when nation meeteth nation in the fight Lo ! the wonder of creation I lo ! the solemn Northern Light I Once I heard its wondrous story, and it fell upon my soul Full of might and awful glory, like the sound where planets roll, Bearing me where Jordan poureth down his waters with a shout, And the palm tree upward soareth, and the desert opens out, Back through all the lapse of ages to the bygone days of old, Turning over Hist'ry's pages, rich with purer wealth than gold, When with travel worn and weary, torn with many an anxious pang, Slept through all the midnight dreary, he from whom a nation sprang In his dreams (as I am dreaming) there he saw a wondrous stair. Formed of waving fire and streaming through the regions of the air, Thoughts of earth and heaven blending in its flood of loving light, ' And the angel shapes, descending and ascending through the night; As he rose the morn was breaking, and its glories bathed his head— " God was with me till my waking and I knew it not," he said, " God was near me and around me, and I heard the angel's song, ' But the sleep of Earth had bound me, and its chain was very strong. But the dream has left its traces, and the ladder gleams on high When the northern meteor races o'er the sleeping of the sky, And the souls of the departed, whispering in the rustling air, Speak unto the broken-hearted comfort in their dull despair. And our God is always nigh us, nigh in every time and spot, Though His presence sweepeth by us, and we dream and know it not, Lo I my wife is in the Heaven, though her clay he 'neath the swrrd. And the sleep of earth is riven in the Bethel of the Lord. 106 THANKSGIVING. THANKSGIVING. The heavens are telling of Thy glory, Lord ! The firmament declares Thy power Most High ! From rocky crag, from flower-bestudded sward, A song of triumph rings into the sky : A song that echoes through the boundless space Where angels bow the knee and veil the face ; Methinks I hear it now — " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy, is the cry, " Lord God, art Thou." II. All round the dawn comes blushing from the sea. The great white clouds are edged with gold and red And still the flaming daylight silently Creeps on and on, and glances over head. The sun Comes from the bridal chambers of the east, (Leaving awhile the highly favoured lands Where rivers run By groves of spice trees over golden sands, Mirroring on their way The glory of the huge earth-shaking beast, And gorgeous pheasants, and the yellow gleam Of tawny tigers waiting for their prey ;) Until his beam Wakes up anew from rest The towns and cornfields of the sleeping west, And gilding all the sullen mountain brow. Proclaims Thy praise : " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy 1" cry his rays, " T,r>rrl ClnA o,.f TVimi I" ■T::^pr- THANKSGIVING. III. He sinks to rest, and over all the plains Night spreads her dusky mantle, tinged with grey, All things are still, and solemn silence reigns, Save where the moon pursues her endless way. The raving of the deep Dies in a hollow murmur, and the breeze. Wearied with playing, rocks itself to sleep Among the tresses of the trees ; But where the great round moon, in floods of light Like molten silver, surges on the night. The angels hear her song of praise, and bow With reverence as she sweeps along : " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy," is her song, " Lord God, art Thou." IV. 107 He giveth snow like wool, and sendeth forth Hoar frost like ashes; and the crystal spears Of diamond-pointed ice, from out the North, Come at his mandate, and the frozen tears Of Heaven drop down like morsels. At His word They melt away like vapour, so He bloweth with his winds, and lo ! The sparkling rills beneath the ice interred Rise from the dead, and myriad waters flow: And ever as they rush into the sea. From cataract leaping down the mountain brow And little brooks that babble through the lea Still the same melody 1 " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy, " do they cry, " Lord God, art Thou." ^o 108 THANKSGIVING, V. Deep in the bosom of the snow-clad plain To outward seeming dead, The little grain Hides in the lap of earth its buried head. No sounds disturb its quiet : not the light, Laden with life and heat, can bid it rise From out the darkness of its night Unto the loving skies : The air All chilled and frozen, passes o'er its tomb, But comes not nigh, and yet within the gloom Thou, Lord, ar' there Watching (for naught is f mall before Thine eyes, And Thine all loving care Is over all Thy works) the little seed. Until the time come when it shall be freed, And then Thou call'st it forth, and lo I the pale green blade Has, having heard Thy mandate, Lord, obeyed. And, in the sight of men. Has lifted up its tender head, and now Joins in the universal symphony, " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy, " is the cry, " Lord God, art Thou. " VI. And so Thy winds come to it, and the heavens o'erflow With untold riches on it, dropping down A wealth of fatness on the golden crown Of ripening ears that catch the summer sun, And drink in turn the dews of eve, until THANKSGIVING. The appointed time be run, And fertile hill And plain are smiling with the yellow corn ; The morn Gleams on them, as it glances on the sea That ripp'les in the sunlight, and the night Brings in upon the lea The full orb'd harvest moon in floods of light And from the rugged bough Of elms beside the corn, the robin sings Thy praise, oh God of all created things Joining the melody. " Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy," is the ciy, " Lord God, art Thou." 109 VII. The Heavens declare Thy glory, oh Most High- No speech, no language dwells among the host Of starry worlds that make in Thee their boast. Yet from the boundless sky Where myriad planets in their orbits roll, Through all the lands Their sound goes forth with power, from pole to pole. To Artie snows and torrid sands, Where, when the fiery day Dies slowly from the thirsty sod. The hungry lions roaring for their prey Seek food from thee, God. The sea Lifts up his tossing waves on high, and roars A diapason of deep melody With crash on crash upon the sounding shores That thunder back again The never-dying strain jr> ■=»*• 110 THANKSGIVING. " All Thy works praise Thee, Earth and Heaven above " From day to day, and hour to hour " Give thanks unto Thee for Thine endless love " And boundless power : " All Thy works praise Thee : good it is and right " That we should laud Thy name by day and night, " Most Powerful ! " Most Merciful ! " Most Holy Lord I that through eternity " Shall reign when we " Shall cease to be ; " Yet till the time be come when we shall die, " With loving awe before Thy throne we bow ** Thrice Holy, Holy, Holy, all things cry, " Lord God, art thou." \ \, v ■: 4 NEW TEAR. NEW YEAR. Deep night on the dreaming sky- Night, frost-struck, sleeping in deadly ohilj, No cloud, nor phantom of mist on high, And crisp snow sparkling on vale and hill : The great moon glares, as a dead man's eye Gleams in its passionless winter bound, The stars as the frost comes sweeping by Shimmer and shake in the blue profound, And the voice of silence all around Coming from near and coming from far From frozen river, and ice veiled scar, Is droning into the listening ear " Lo Death is here I " II. Death ! for the old year dies, The sad old year that brought us woe; Place for the next ! Let another arise. And let the old year go. Why should we mourn ? He brought us naught But days with trouble and sorrow fraught. And cares that fed on the heart within And sin. Let him go. III. Death ! for the old year dies I Toll, oh bells, till the time be past. Ring it out to the pitying skies. The dear old vonr is fli'ffjnn. fl>c* ^ — — „ — "'^^ ittcf. Ill 112 NEW TEAR. The dear, dear year — our year — shall we Ever have such another as he ? Grant that his days were tempest-wild His very birth with sorrow begun, The Father, because He loves the child, Chastens His son. IV. Oh dear sad year, and must we part, Sad year, in which I saw my love Mount to a happier realm above Leaving behind a broken heart Dear year, my last surviving friend, Dear with her presence, in her death Sacred till I give up the breath Leave me not. " All things have an end." *' An end, but not an end — The type Fades in its season, yet survives, In its fulfilment— so the lives That perish die when they are ripe" " Yet live by death. The old year dies And lives in its successor, so Ring out, oh bells, across the snow The dead year born to happier skies." Yes ! death is but a passing strife, And deepest night but brings the day ; Tho' all things alter and decay, All things are brought again to life. And therefore ring the marriage peal Of Life and Death, whose union Is blessed by hope, and brings a son. Another year. For weal, or woe ? Ring out, oh new year's bells, in trust Come weal, come woe, yet what care I ? He lives, who ever reigns on high, And He is merciful and just. .' BUTHANASU. 118 EUTHANASIA. 1 heard a voice that rang throughout the night When clouds were brooding sadly over-head, A voice that clavo the gloom on waves of light, And came where I was lain and shouted « Write, " How blessed are the dead." All round I heard the sobbing of the trees, The gloomy pines that darkened on the height I heard the wailing of the mournful breeze That whispered dirges in the ear of night, And, over all. With eyes that pierced the darkness I could view The tristful waterfall, (For ever moaning as it sought'the depths below) Decking its glassy sheet of blackest hue With clots of foam that gleamed Uke virgin snow, Loom like a maiden's pall. And while I wept with sorrow at the sight There came a voice that spake to me and said " Rise up and write How blessed are the Dead I " Fax off, the surging of the troubled deep Mellowed by distance feU upon my ears With sounds that rang like sobs and heart wrung tears From those who see a loved one's last long sleep • Methinks at night all nature seems to sigh And cower to earth, and speak beneath her breath Of that dread tale that tells how aU must die, And how that sleep is but the type of Death • And I^ ' I too could weep, 1 i I if a «.■ ' 114 BUTHANA8IA And pour down dust and ashes on my head, But that the voices with resistleBS might Cease not, but oome to whore I lie, and cry «' Thus saith the Spirit, ' Write— " How blessed are the dead I ' " Dead I yet we loved her, — Oh remorseless grave ; That ever tear'st our priceless gems away, If love be powerless, what avails to save Thy destined prey ? Firm friend, dear sister, loving child, pure maid, And fairer than the fairest flower ; All tLese was she, and yet they naught delayed The inevitable hour. How have we wrestled with our God, and prayed, As once the prophet prayed in days of yore, That He would listen from His throne above, And leave a little while our precious love, Ere she too should go hence and be no more. Now all is o'er — We lose the light that gladdened all our eyes. The life God gave to strengthen ours and bless, And now the Spirit comes to us and cries, " Earth has one angel less " But Heaven has one the moic." I hear the word. Blessed are those that die in Thee, oh Lord; Their works shall follow them, but they shall rest Where naught can trouble them upon Thy breaat. Well hath the Spirit said " Write, blessed, blessed, blessed, are the dead That die, oh Lord, in Thee." And we. While she was one Among us strove with The^, like him of old, -i=. 3SS, BOTH ANA ATA Israel's sweet rfngw, yearning for his son, Now she is gone, And lies within her coffin ptie and oold, The victory is won, the battle oor, We strive no more, But, bowing to the gronnd the strioken head All faint and bleeding from the desp'rate flght, We listen to the spirit saying " Write " How blessed are the dead J Oh everlasting portals of the »ky Lift up your heads, and be ye swung aside Ye gates, and be ye lifted up on high, That He, the Lord of Hosts, may enter in— The Lord of Hosts that comes with pomp and pride, And martial pageant, from his strife with Sin ; The Lord of Hosts, omnipotent to save The Lord that sets the captive free And tears from Death his victory, His triumph from the Giave. Lift up your heads ye everlasting gates. And be y- swung asunder far and wide Outside your King, the King of Glory waits. The King of Glory coming with his bride j The King that rends the iron chains asunder. That hears the crying of the tortured slave, That speaks His will to Death in tones of thunder. That says ' Give up my children' to the grave— Upon the wind, upon the wind He rides. The blood red-lightning crouches at His feet. The clouds of Heaven are round where He abides Thick clouds of darkness veil His judgment seat. The sea lies in the hollow of His hand, The deep set mountains tremble at his nod, His pinions cover sky and sea and land, 116 The Heavens declare Thy glory, (jod. 116 EUTHASANIA. But earth, more highly favoured, boasts Through anguish, death, and grief, and ill, Her Saviou' is the Lord of Hosts, Her King, the King of Glory still. What though our loved one leave us here, To mourn her loss and deck her tomb, Ours is no sadness dark and drear, Ours is no unbelieving gloom ; He, who doeth all things right, Whispers to the bowed-down head, * Rise up and write, " Blessed, oh Lord, of all things, arc thy dead." it 11 WHAT OP THE NIGHT. 117 " WHAT OF THE NIGHT." The air is heavy and still, The dark pines sleep on the snowy height, The dull wind, wrapt in a deadly chill, No longer waileth sadly and shrill Under the winter night — The great streams clang, and shiver, and cry In the throes of their heavy agony, Whirling down in mad career With voice of anger, and scream of fear, Blocks of crystal and icy spear Unto an ice-nlad sea. Yet ever amid the ceaseless dash Of great waves billowing up in light, With roar on roar, and crash on crash, A voice calls out to me, " Watchman, what of the night ?" " Watchman, what of the night ? look round," Methinks I hear in the East afar, Dim and faint, as the hm-ricane's sound Before it cometh with clash and jar, Roll of cannon and mutter of war. Squadrons arming stern and fast. To frice the storm as it sweepeth past. Whispers of men, and maids in fear Because of the Horror that draweth near What of the night, Angel ? Lo I What bringeth night but death and woe ? m 118 WHAT OP tHK NIGHT. " Watchman, what of the night? " Behold I see a land that is bought and sold, Sold to oppression, and bought with gold Wrung from the sweat of slavery To fatten a land that boasts her free; Her pei >ple walk, as those in sleep Who see a Horror upon them creep And strive and struggle, and fight in vain Against the dread that comes on amain. Pecond to none in knowledge and power, They lie like sheep in their night's dark hour. What of the night .' what can there bj But tears, and sorrow, and misery. " Look up,*0 Watchman.— What of the night ?" The clouds that were slumbering far away In misty masses and wreaths of grey. Leap to life at the coming light ; Bathed at first in the awful flood That dyes all Heaven with streaks of blood. They faint at last in the golden stream That tells of the morning's first glad beam. The night is ordered by Him above ; — " Oh I Angel, what of the night but love ? ^' l