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BY JOAQUIN MILLER. r O R O N I- O : THE CANADIAN NEWS AND PUBLISHING CO. 1871. 162737 CONTENT. .s ii ftmi l w Arizonian . . 7 With Walker in Nicaragua *3 Californian . . 5» The Last Taschastas ' ■ • • 79 Ina 93 The Talk of the Tali. Alcaj i.;- . I2g Kit Carson's Riuk . • . lOI Burns and Byron . , , 169 Myrrh 177 Even So ... . • » '85 h ARIZONIAN Beeauu the ikie» were blue, beeauee, JTA* ttm in fringee vn'd for ever. " One time in the night as the black wind shifted. And a flash of lightning stretch'd over the stream, I seem'd to see her with her brown hands lifted — Only seem'd to see, as one sees in a dream — With her eyes wide wild and her pale lips prcss'd, ARIZONIAN. >3 And the blood from her brow and the flood to her breast ; When the flood caught her hair as the flax in a wheel, And wheeling and whirling her round like a reel, Laugh'd loud her despair, then leapt long like a steed. Holding tight to her hair, folding fast to her heel, Laughing fierce, leaping far as if spurrd to its speed . . Now mind, I tell you all this did but seem — Was seen as you see fearful scenes in a dream ; For what the devil could the lightning show In a night like that, I should like to know ! " And then I slept, and sleeping I dream'd Of great green serpents with tongues of fire, And of death by drowning, and of after death — Of the day of judgment, wherein it seemd That she, the heathen, was bidden higher, Higher than I ; that I clung to her side, And clinging struggled, and struggling cried. And crying, waken'd, all weak of my breath. '• Long leaves of the sun lay over the floo*- And a chipmonk chirp'd in the open door, But above on his crag the eagle scream'd. Scream'd as he never had scream'd before. 1 rush'd to the river : the flood had gone Like a thief, with only his tracks upon The weeds and grasses and warm wet sand ; And I ran after with reacliing hand, .\nd call'd as 1 reach'd and reach'd as I ra;;. And ran till I came t'> the canons van, Where the waters lay in a bent lagoon, Hook'd and crook'd like the horned moon. '' Here in the surge where the waters met, And the warm wave lifted, and the winds did fret The wave till it foam'd with rage on the land, She lay with the wave on the warm white sand ; Her rich hair trail'd with the trailing weeds, >4 ARIZONIAN. And her small brown hands lay prone or lifted As the wave sang strophes in the broken reeds, Or i)aused in pity, and in silence sifted Sands of gold, as upon her grave. And as sure as you see yon browsing kine, And breathe the breath of your meadows fine. When 1 went to my waist in the warm white wave And stood all pale in the wave to my breast. And reach'd for her in her rest and unrest, Her hands were lifted and reach'd to mine. " Now mind, I tell you I cried, ' Come in ! Come in to the house, come out from the hollow. Come out of the storm, come up from the river !' Cried, and call'd, in that desolate din. Though I did not rush out, and in plain words give her A wordy warning of the flood to follow. Word by word, and letter by letter : For she knew it as well as I, and better ; Vox once in the desert of New Me.xico When J sought frantically far and wide For the famous spot where Apaches shot With bullets of gold their buffalo. And she followed faithfully at my side, I threw me down in the hard hot sand Utterly famish'd, and ready to die. And a speck arose in the red-hot sky — A speck no large- than a lady's hand — AVhile she at my side bent tenderly over, Shielding my face from the sun as a cover, And wetting my face, as she watch'd by my side. From a skin she had borne till the high noon-tide, (I had emptied mine in the heat of the morning) When the thunder mutter'd far over the plain Like a monster liound or a beast in pain. She sprang the instant, and gave the warning. With her brown hand pointed to the burning skies. I was too weak unto death to arise, ARIZONIAN. And I pray'd for death in my deep despair, And did curse and clutc-h in the sand in my rage, And bite in the bitter white ashen sage, 'I'hat covers the desert like a coat of hair ; But she knew the peril, and her iron will. With a heart as true as the great North Star, Did bear nie up to the palm-tipp'd hill. Where tlie fiercest beasts in a brotherhood. Beasts that had fled from the plain and far, In pertectest peace expectant stood, With their heads held high, and their limbs a-ijuiver ; And ere she barely had time to breathe The boiling waters began to seethe F""rom hill to hill in a booming river. Beating and breaking from hill to hill — Kven while yet the sun shot fire. Without the shield of a cloud above — Filling the cannon as you would fill A wine-cup, drmking in swift desire. With the brim new-kiss'd by the lips you love. " So you see she knew — knew perfectly well, As well as I could shout and tell. The mountains would send a flood to the plain. Sweeping the gorge liice a hurricane. When the fire flash'd, and the thunder fell. Therefore it is wrong, and 1 say therefore Unfair, that a mystical brown wing'd moth Or midnight bat should for evermore Fan my face with its wings of air. And follow me up, down everywhere. Flit past, pursue me. or fly before, Dimly limning in earh fair place The full fix'd eyes and the sad brown face. So forty times worse than if we were wroth. " I gather'd the gold I had hid in the earth. Hid over the door and hid under the hearth : 15 i6 ARTZONIAN. Hoarded and hid, as the world went over, For the love of a blonde by a sun-brown 'd lover ; And I said to myself, as I set my face To the east and afar from the desolate place, 'She has braided her tresses, and through her tears Look'd away to the West, for years, the years That I have wrought where the sun tans brown ; She has waked by ni,.{ht, she has watch'd by day, She has wept and wonder'd at my delay. Alone and in tears, with her head held down, Where the ships sail out, and the seas swirl in, Forgetting to knit, and refusing to spin. She shall lift her head, she shall see her lover. She shall hear his voice like a sea that rushes, She shall hold his gold in her hands of snow. And down on his breast she shall hide ler blushes, And never a care shall her true heart know, While the clods are below, or the clouds are above her.' " On the fringe of the night she stood with her pitcher At the old town-pump : and oh 1 passing fair. ' I am riper now," I said, ' but am richer,' And I lifted my hand to my beard and hair : ' I am burnt by the sun, I am browned by the sea ; I am white of my beard, and arn bald, may be ; Yet for all such things what can her heart care?' Then she moved ; and I said, ' How marvellous fair ! She look'd to the West, with her arm arch'd over ; ' Looking for me, her sun-brown'd lover." I said to myself, with a hot heart thump. And stepp'd me nearer to the storm stain'd pump, .As approaching a friend ; for t'was here of old Our troths were plighted and the tale was told. " How young she was and how fair she was I How tall as a palm, and how pearly fair. As the night came down on her glorious hair 1 Then the night grew deep and the eye grew dim. ARI/.ONIA.\. n And a sad-fated figure began to swim And float in my face, flit past, then pause, With her hands held up and her head held down, Yet face to face ; and her face was brown. Now why did slie come and confront me there, With the mould on her face and the moist in her hair, And a mystical stare in her marvellous eyes ? I had called to her twice, ' Come in ! come in ! Come out of the storm to the calm within !' Now, that is the reason that I make complain That for ever and ever her face should arise, Facing face to face with her great sad eyes. I said then to myself, and I say it again. Gainsay it you, gainsay it who will, I shall say it over and over still, And will say it ever, for I know it true, That I did all that a man could do (Some good men's doings are done in vain) To save that passionate child of the sun. With her love as deej) as the doubled nuain. And as strong and fierce as a troubled sea- - That beautifiil bronze with its soul of fire. Its tropical love and its kingly ire — That child as fix'd as a pyramid, As tall as a tula and as pure as a nun — And all there is of it the all I did, As often happens, was done in vain. So there is no bit of her blood on me. "•She is marvellous young and is wonderful fair," I said again, and my heart grew bold, And beat and beat a charge for my feet. ' Time that defaces us, places and replaces us. And trenches the faces as in furrows for tears. Has traced here nothing in all these years. 'Tis the hair of gold that 1 ve.vVI of old, The marvellous flowing flower of hair, And the peaceful eyes in their sweet surprise i8 ARI/.ONIAN. 'I'hat I have kiss'd till the head swam round, And the delicate curve of the dimpled chin, And the pouting lips and the pearls within Are the same, the same, but so young, so fair !' My heart leapt out and back at a bound, As a child that starts, then stops, then lingers. ' How wonderful young !' I lifted my fingers And fell to counting the round years over That I had dwelt where the sun goes down. Four full hands, and a finger over ! ' She does not know me, her truant lover,' I said to myself, for her brow was a-frown As I stepp'd still nearer, with my head held down. All abash'd and in blushes my l)rown face over ; ' She does not know me, her long-lost lover. For my beard's so long and my skin's so brown, That I well might pass myself for another.' So I lifted my voice and I spoke aloud : ' Annette, my darling ! Annette Macleod !' She started, she stopp'd, she turn'd, amazed. She stood all wonder with her eyes wild-wide. Then turn'd in terror down the dusk wayside. And cried as she fled, ' The man is crazed, And calls the maiden name of my mother !' " From a scene that saddens, from a ghost that wearies, From a white isle sot in a wall of seas, From the kine and clover and all of these I shall set my face for the fierce Sierras. I shall make me mates on the stormy border, I «hall beard the grizzly, shall battle again, And from mad disorder shall mould me order And a wild repose for a weary brain. " Let the world turn over, and over, and over, And toss and tumble like a beast in pain. Crack, cjuake, and tremble, and turn full over And die. and never rise up again ; ,IA'//0A7.L\: '^, 19 Let Ikt dash her peaks through the purple < mir. I,et her plash her seas in the fice of the sun — I have no one to love me nov , not one, In a world as full as a world can hold ; So 1 will get gold as I erst have done, 1 will gather a coffin top-full of gold, To take to the door of i )ea'.h, to l)uy Content, when I double my hands and die. There is nothing that is, he it beast or human, Love of maiden or the lus. of man. Curse of man or the kiss jf woman, For which I care or for v hich I can Clive a love for a love or a hate for a hate, A curse for a curse or a kiss for a kiss, Since life has neither a Dane nor a bliss. To one that is cheek I'y jowl with fote ; For I have lifted and .each'd far over To the tree of i)romise, and have pluck'd of all And ate — ate ashes, ind myrrh, and gall. Co down, go down to the fields of clover, Down with the kine in the pastures fine, And give no thought, or care, or labor For maid or man, i^ood name or neighbor ; For I have given, and what have I ? — Civen all my youtli, my years, and labor. And a love as warm as the world is cold, For a beautiful, bright, and delusive lie. Cave youth, gav.' years, gave love for gold, Civing and getting, yet what have I But an empty palm and a face forgotten, And a hope that's dead, and a heart that's rotten ? Red gold on the waters is no part bread, But sinks dull sodden like a lump of lead, And returns ro more in the face of Heaven. So the dark c'ay thickens at the hope deferr'd, And the stroig heart sickens and the soul is stirr'd Like a weary sea when his hands are lifted. Imploring peace, with his raiment drifted 30 \NI/.OXIAX. And driven afar and rent and riven. " 'I'he red ripe stars hang low overhead, Let the good and the light of soul reach up, I'luck gold as plucking a butter-cup : But 1 am as lead and my hands are red ; 'I'hcre is nothing that is that can wake one passion In soul or body, or one sense of pleasure, No fame or fortune in the world's wide measure, Or love full-bosomed or in any fashion. " The doubled sea, and the troubled heaven, Slarr'd and barr'd by the bolts of fire. In storms where stars are riven, and driven As clouds through heaven, as a dust blown higher ; 'I'he angels hurl'd to the realms infernal. Down from the walls in unholy wars, That man misnameth the falling stars : The purple robe of the proud Eternal. The Tyrian blue with its fringe of gold, Shrouding His countenance, fold on fold — All are dull and tame as a tale that is told. For the loves that hasten and the hates that linger, The nights that darken and the days that glisten, And men that lie and maidens that listen, I care not even the snap of my finger. " So the sun climbs up, and on, and over. And the days go out and the tides come in. And the pale moon rubs on the purple cover Till worn as thin and as bright as tin ; But the ways are dark and tiie days are dreary. And the dreams of youth are but dust in age, And the heart gets harden'd, and the hands grow weary Holding them up for their heritage. " And the strain'd heart-strings wear bare and brittle. And the fond hope dies when so long deferr'd ; Then the fair hope lies in the heart interr'd. AN I/O MAX. 21 So siift and cold in its coffin of lead. For you promise so great and you gain so little For you promise so great of glory and gold, And gain so little that the hands grow cold ; And for gold and glory yo\i gain instead A fon>' heart sicken'd and a fair hope tlead. " Sc I have said, and I say it over, And can prove it over and over again, That the four-footed beasts on the red-crown'd clover, The pied and homi:d beasts on the plain That lie down, rise up, and repose again, And do never take care or toil or spin. Nor buy, nor build, nor gather in gold, Though the days go out and the tides come in. Are better than we by a thousand fold ; For what is it all, in the words of fire, But a vexing of soul and a vain desire ?" WITH WALKER IN NICARAGUA. Cor'^e to my sun land/ Conte with me To the land I love ; w/wre the sun and sea Are wed forever : where ji aim and pine Are /tiled with singers ; tchere tree and vine Are voiced with prophets ! come, and you Shall sing a sony with the seas that swirl And kiss their hands to the cold white girl, To the maiden moon in her mantle of blue. WITH VVAI.KRR IN NICARAGUA. / HE was a brick : let this l)e said Above my brave dishonored dead. I ask no more, this is not much, Yet I disdain a colder touch To memory as dear as his ; For he was true as any star, And brave as Yuba's grizzlies arc. Yet gentle as a panther is, Mouthing her yoimg in her first fierce kiss Tall, courtly, grand as any king, Yet simple as a child at play. In camp and court the same alway. And never moved at anything ; A dash of sadness in his air. Born, may be, of his own care. And, may be, born of a despair 1 n early love — I never knew ; I question'd not, as many do, (3f things as sacred as this is : I only knew that he to me Was all a father, friend, could be ; 1 sought to know no more than this ( )f history of him or his. A piercing eye, a princely air, .\ presence like a chevalier, Half angel and half Lucifer ; I'air fingers, jewell'd manifokl ?s-*'4 36 WITH WALKER With great gems set in hoops of gold ; Sombre'ro black, with plume of snow That swept his long silk locks below ; A red serape with bars of gold, Heedless falling, fold on fold ; A sash of silk, where flashing swung A sword as swift as serpent's tongue, In sheath of silver chased in gold ; A face of blended pride and pain, Of mingled pleading and disdain. With shades of glory and of grief; And Spanish spurs with bells of steel That dash'd and dangl'd at the heel — The famous filibus :er chief Stood by his tent 'mid tall brown trees That top the fierce Cordilleras, With brawn arm arch'd above his brow ; ■ Stood s ;ill — he stands, a picture, now — Long gazing down the sunset seas. II. What strange strong bearded men were these He led toward the tropic seas ! Men sometime of uncommon birth, Men rich in histories untold. Who boasted not, though more than bold, Blown from the four parts of the earth. Men mighty-thew'd as Sampson was, That had been kings in any cause, A remnant of the races past ; Dark-brow'd as if in iron cast, Broad-breasted as twin gates of brass, — Men strangely brave and fiercely true, Who dared the West when giants were, Who err'd, yet bravely dared to err ; A remnant of that early few Who held no crime or curse or vice IN NICARAGUA. As dark as that of cowardice ; With blendings of the worst and best Of faults and virtues that have blest Or cursed or thrill'd the human breast. They rode, a troop of bearded men, Rode two and two out from the town, And some were blonde and some were brown And all as brave as Sioux ; but when From San Bennetto south the line That bound them in the laws of men Was passed, and peace stood mute behind And streamed a banner to the wind The world knew not, there was a sign Of awe, of silence, vear and van. Men thought who never thought before ; I heard the clang and clash of steel From sword at hand or spur at heel And iron feet, but nothing more. Some thought of Texas, some of Maine, But more of rugged Tennessee, — Of scenes in Southern, vales of wine. And scenes in Northern hills of pine As scenes they might not meet again ; And one of Avon thought, and one Thought of an isle beneath the sun, And one of Rowley, one the Rhine, And one turned sadly to the Spree, Defeat meant something more than death : The world was ready, keen to smite, As stern and still beneath its ban With iron will and bated breath, Their hands against their fellow-man, They rode — each man an Ishmaelite. But when we struck the hills of pine. These men dismounted, doffed their cares, Talked loud and laughed old love affairs, 27 55-SagaEAS5Ta'A^g^ ^^p^ 28 WITH WALKER And on the grass took meat and wine, And never gave a thought again To land or life that lay behind. Or love, or care of any kind Beyond the present cross or pain. And 1, a waif of stormy seas, A child among such men as these, Was blown along this savage surf And rested with them on the turf, And took delight below the trees. I did not question, did not care To know the right or wrong. I saw That savage freedom had a sptU, And loved it more than I can tell, And snapped my fingers at the law. I bear my burden of the shame,^ — I shun it not, and naught forget, However much I may regret : 1 claim some candor to my name, And courage cannot change or die. — Did they deserve to die ? they died. Let justice then be satisfied. And as for me, why what am I ? The standing side by side till death, The dying for some wounded friend, The faith that failed not to the end. The strong endurance till the breath And body took their ways apart, I only know. 1 kci^p my trust. Their vices 1 earth has them by heart. Their virtues ! they are with their dust. How wound we through the solid wood. With all its broad boughs hung in green, With lichen-mosses trail'd between ! How waked the spotted beasts of prey, Deep sleeping from the face of day, IN NICARAGUA. And dash'd them like a troubled flood Down some defile and denser wood I And snakes, long, lithe and beautiful As green and graceful bough'd bamboo, Did twist and twine them through and through The boughs tliat hung red-fruited full. One, monster-sized, above me hung. Close eyed me with his bright pink eyes. Then raised his folds, and sway'd and swung, And lick'd like lightning his red tongue, Then oped his wide mouth with surprise ; He writhed and curved, and raised and lower'd His folds like liftings of the tide. And sank so low I touched his side, As I rode by, with my broad sword. The trees shook hands high overhead, And bow'd and intertwined across The narrow way, while leaves and moss And luscious fruit, gold-hued and red, Through all the canopy of green. Let not one sunshaft shoot between. 39 Birds hung and swung, green-robed and red, Or droop'd in curved lines dreamily. Rainbows reversed, from tree to tree. Or sang low-hanging overhead — Sang low, as if they sang and slept, Sang faint, like some far waterfall, And took no note of us at ail, Though nuts that in the way were spread Did crush and crackle as we stept. Wild hlies, tall as maidens are, As sweet of breath, as pearly fair, As fair as faith, as pure as truth, Fell thick before our every tread. 30 WITH WALKER "' 'if' >»: .^; <^ As in a sacrifice to ruth, And all the air mth perfume fill'd More sweet than ever man distill'd. The ripen'd fruit a fragrance shed And hung in hand-reach overhead, In nest of blossoms on the shoot, The bending shoot that bore the fruit. How ran the monkeys through the leaves ! How rush'd they through, brown clad and blue, Like shuttles hurried through and through The threads a hasty weaver weaves ! How quick they cast us fruits of gold, Then loosen'd hand and all foothold. And hung limp, limber, as if dead. Hung low and listless overhead ; And all the time, with half-oped eyes Bent full on us in mute surprise — Look'd wisely too, as wise hens do That watch you with the head askew. The long days through from blossom'd trees There came the sweet song of sweet bees, With chorus-tones of cockatoo That slid his beak along the bough, And walk'd and talk'd and hung and swung, In crown of gold and coat of blue, The wisest fool that ever sung. Or had a crown, ur held a tongue. Oh when we broke the sombre wood And pierced at last the sunny plain, How wild and still with wonder stood. The proud mustangs with banner'd mane. And necks that never knew a rein, And nostrils lifted high and blown. Fierce breathing as a hurricane : IN NICARAGUA. Yet by their leader held the while In solid column, square and file, And ranks more martial than our own ! Some one above the common kind, Some one to look to, lean upon, I think is much a woman's mind ; But it was mine and I had drawn A rein beside the chief while we Rode through the forest leisurely ; When he grew kind and questioned me Of kindred, home, and home affair, Of how I came to wander there. And had my father herds and land And men in hundreds at command ? At which I silent shook my head. Then, timid, met his eyes and said, " Not so. Where sunny-foot hills run Do-vn to the North Pacific sea. And Willamette meets the sun In many angles, patiently My father tends his flocks of snow. And turns alone the mellow sod And sows some fields not over broad, And mourns my long delay in vain. Nor bids one serve-man come or go ; While mother from her wheel or churn, And may be from the milking shed. There lifts an humble weary head To watch and wish for my return Across the camas' blossomed plain." He held his bent head very low, A sudden sadness in his air ; Then turned and touched my yellow hair And took the long^locks in his hand, Toyed with them' smiled, and let them go. Then thrummed about his saddle bow As thought ran swift across his face ; 31 \ 32 WITH WALKER Then turning sudden from his place, He gave some short and quick command. They brought the best steed of the band, They swimg a bright sword at my side, He bade me mount and by him ride. And from that hour to the end I never felt the need of friend. Far in the wildest quinine wood We found a city old — so old, Its very walls were turn'd to mould, And stately trees upon them stood. No history has mention'd it, No map has given it a place ; The last dim trace of tribe and race— The world's forgetfulness is fit. It held one structure grand and moss'd. Mighty as any castle sung, And old when oldest Ind was young, With threshold Christian never cross'd ; A temple builded to the sun, Along whose sombre altar-stone Brown bleeding virgins had been strown Like leaves, when leaves are crisp and dun, In ages ere the Sphinx was born. Or Babylon had birth or morn. My chief led up the marble step- He ever led, broad blade in hand — When down the stones, with double hand Clutch'd to his blade, a savage leapt. Hot bent to barter life for life. The chieftain drove his bowie knife Full through his thick and broad breast-bone, And broke the point against the stone. The dark stone of the temple wall. I saw him loose his hold and fall IN NICARAGUA. Full length with head held down the step ; I saw run down a ruddy flood Of rushing pulsing human blood, Then from the crowd a woman crept And kiss'd the gory hands and face, And smote herself. Then one by one The dark crowd crept and did the same, Then bore the dead man from the place. Down darken'd aisles the brown priests came, So picture-like with sandall'd feet And long gray dismal grass-wove gowns, So like the pictures of old time, And stood all still and dark of frowns. At blood upon the stone and street. So we laid ready hand to sword And boldly spoke some bitter word ; But. they were stubborn still, and stood Dark frowning as a winter wood, And mutt'ring something of the crime Of blood upon the temple stone, As if the first that it had known. We turned toward the massive door With clash of steel at heel, and with Some swords all red and ready drawn. I traced the sharp edge of my sword Along the marble wall and floor For crack or crevice ; there was none. From one vast mount of marble stone The mighty temple had been cored By nut-brown children of the sun, When stars were newly bright and blithe Of song along the rim of dawn, A mighty marble monolith ! n 34 WITH WALKER III. Through marches through t^-e mazy wood, And may be through too much of blood, At last we came down to the seas. A city stood, white-wall'd, and brown With age, in nest of orange trees ; /Vnd this we won, and many a town And rancho reaching up and down, Then rested in the red-hot days Beneath the blossom'd orange trees, Made drowsy with the drum of bees. And drank in peace the south-sea breeze. Made sweet with sweeping boughs of bays. Well ! there were maidens, shy at first. And then, ere long, not over shy, Yet pure of soul and proudly chare. No love on earth has such an eye ! No land there is is bless'd or curs'd With such a limb or grace of face, Or gracious form, or genial air ! In all the bleak North-land not one Hath been so warm of soul to me As coldest soul by that warm sea. Beneath the bright hot centred sun. No lands where any ices are Approach, or ever dare compare With warm loves born beneath the sun. The one the cold white steady star, The lifted shifting sun the one. I grant you fond, I grant you fair, I grant you honor, trust and truth, And years as beautiful as youth. And many years beyond the sun. And faith as fix'd as any star ; IN NICARAGUA. But all the North-land hath not one So warm of soul as sun-maids are. I was but in my boyhood then, I count my fingers over, so, And find it years and years ago, And I am scarcely yet of men. But I was tall and lithe and fair, With rippled tide of yellow hair, And prone to mellowness of heart ; While she was tawny-red like wine, With black hair boundless as the night. As for the rest I knew my part, At least was apt, and willing quite To learn, to listen, and incline To teacher warm and wise as mine. 35 O bright, bronzed maidens of the sun I .So fairer far to look upon Than curtains of the Solomon, Or Kedar's tents, or any one, Or any thing beneath the sun ! What follow'd then ? What has been done. And said, and writ, and read, and sung ? What will be writ and read again, While love is life, and life remain ?— White maids will 'leed, and men have tongue ? What follow'd then ? But let that pass. 1 hold one picture in my heart, Hung curtain'd, and not any part Of all its dark tint ever has Been look'd upon by any one. But if, may be, one brave and strong As liftings of the bristled sea Steps forth from out the days to be And knocks heart-wise, and enters bold A rugged heart inured to wrong — 36 WITH WALKER As one would storm a strong stronghold — Strong-footed, and most passing fair Of truth, and thought beyond her years, We two will lift the crape in tears. Will turn the canvas to the sun. Will trace the features one by one or my dear dead, in still despair. Love well who "'11, love wise who can, But love, be loved, for God is love ; Love pure, like cherubim above ; Love maids, and hate not any man. Sit as sat we by orange tree, Beneath the broad bough and grape-vine Top-tangled in the tropic shine, Close face to face, close to the sea, And full of the red-centered sun. With grand sea-songs upon the soul, Ro'l'd melody on melody, Like echoes of deep organ's roll, And love, nor question any one. If God is love, is love not God ? As high priests say, let prophets sing, Without reproach or reckoning; This much I say, knees knit to sod, And low voice lifted, questioning. Let eyes lie not dark eyes, but dreams, Or drifting clouds with flashing fires, Or far delights, or fierce desires, Yet not be more than well beseems ; Let hearts be pure and strong and true, Let lips be luscious and blood-red. Let earth in gold be garmented And tented in her tent of blue, Let goodly rivers glide between Their leaning willow walls of green, IN NICARAGUA, Let all things be fill'd of the sun, And full of warm winds of tho sea, And I beneath my vine and tree Take rest, nor war with any one : , Then I will thank God with full cause, Say this is well, is as it was. Let lips be red, for (lod has said Love is like one gold-garmented, And made them so for such a time. Therefore let lips be red, therefore Let love be ripe in ruddy prime, Let hope beat high, let hearts be true, And you be wise thereat, and you Drink deep, and ask not any more. 37 Let red lips lift, proud curl'd, to kiss, And round limbs lean and raise and reach In love too passionate for speech. Too full of blessedness and bliss For anything but this and this ; Let luscious lips lean hot to kiss And swoon in love, while all the air Is redolent with balm of trees. And mellow with the song of bees. While birds sit singing everywhere — And you will have not any more Than I in boyhood, by that shore Of olives, had in years of yore. Let the unclean think things unclean ; I swear tip-toed, with lifted hands, That we were pure as sea-washed sands, That not one coarse thought came between Believe or disbelieve who will, Unto the pure all things are pure ; As for the rest, I can endure Alike their good will or their ill. 38 WITH WALKER She boasted Montezuma's blood, Was pure of soul as Tahoe's flood, And strangely fair and princely soul'd, And she was rich in blood and gold — More rich in love grown over-bold From its own consciousness of strength. How warm ! Oh, not for any cause Could I declare how warm she was, In her brown beauty and hair's length. We loved in the sufficient sun, We lived in element of fire, For love is fire and fierce desire ; Yet lived as pure as priest and nun. We lay slow rocking in the bay In birch canoe beneath the crags Thick, topp'd with palm, like sweeping flags Between us and the burning day. The red-eyed crocodile lay low Or lifted from his rich rank fern, And watch'd us and the tide by turn. And we slow cradled to and fro. And slow we cradled on till night, And told the old tale, overtold, As misers in recounting gold Each time do take a new delight. With her pure passion-given grace She drew her warm self close to me ; And, her two brown hands on my knee, And her two black eyes in my face, She then grew sad and guess'd at ill, And in the future seemed to see With woman's ken of prophecy ; Yet proffer'd her devotion still. And plaintive so, she gave a sign, A token cut of virgin gold, 'I'hat all her tribe should ever liold IN NICARAGUA. 39 Its wearer as some one divine, Nor touch him with a hostile hand. And I in turn gave her a blade, A dagger, worn as well by maid As man, in that half-lawless land : It had a massive silver hilt. Had a most keen and cunning blade, A gift by chief and comrades made For reckless blood at Rivas spilt. " Show this,' said I. " too well 'tis known. And worth an hundred lifted spears, Should ill beset your sunny years ; There is not one in Walker's band, But at the sight of this alone. Will reach a brave and ready hand. And make your right or wrong his own." IV. Love while 'tis day ; night cometh soon, Wherein no man or maiden may ; Love in the strong young prime of day ; Drink drunk with love in ripe red noon, Red noon of love and life and sun ; Walk in loves light as iii sunshine, Drink -in that sun as drinking wine, Drink swift, nor question any one ; For love changes sure as man or moon, And wane like warm full days of June. () Love, so fair, of promises. Bend here thy brow, blow here thy kiss. Bend here thy brow above the storm But once, if only this once more. Comes there no patient Christ to save, Touch and re-animate thy form Long three days dead and in the grave ? 40 WITH WALKER Spread here thy silken net of jet ; Since man is false, since maids forget, Since man must fall for his sharp sin, Be thou the pit that I fall in ; I seek no safer fall than this. Since man must die for some dark sin, Blind leading blind, let come to this. And my death-crime be one deep kiss. 1.0 I I have found another land, May I not find another love. True, trusting as a bosom'd dovf, To lay its whole heart in my hand ? But lips that leap and cling and crush. And Hmbs that twist and intertwine With passion as a passion-vine. And veins that throb and swell and rush- Be ye forbidden fruit and wine. Such passion is not fair or fit Or fashion'd tall — touch none of it. r # * 111 comes disguised in many forms : Fair winds are but a prophecy ( )f foulest winds full soon to be- — The brighter these, the blacker they ; The clearest night has darkest day. And brightest days bring blackest storms. There came reverses to our arms ; I saw the signal-light's alarms At night red-crescenting the bay. The foe pour'd down a flood next day As strong as tides when tides are high. And drove us bleeding in the sea, In such wild haste of flight that we Had hardly time to arm and fly. 'i Blown from the shore, borne far a-sea, f IN NICARAGUA. I lifted my two hands on high With wild soul plashing to the sky. And ( ricd, '" ( ) more than crowns to inc Farewell at last to love and thee !" I walk'd the deck, I kiss'd my hand l>ack to the far and fading shore. And hent a knee as to implore. Until the last dark head of land Slid down behind the dimpled sea. At last I sank in troubled sleejj, A very child, rock'd by the deep, Sad ejuestioning the fate of her Before the sa\'age conqueror. 41 The loss of comrades, power, place, A city wall'd, cool shaded ways, Cost me no care at all ; somehow I only saw her sad brown face, And- — I was younger then than now. Red flash'd the sun across the deck, Slow tlapp'd the idle sails, and slow The black ship cradled to and fro. Afar my city lay, a speck Of white against a line of blue ; Around, half lounging on the deck. Some comrades chatted two by two. I held a new-fill'd glass of wine, And with the mate talk'd as in play. Of fierce events of yesterday. To coax his light life into mine. He jerk'd the wheel, as slow he said. Low laughing with averted head, And so, half sad : " You bet they'll fight They follow'd in canim, canoe, A perfect fleet, that on tile blue Lay dancing till the mid of night. Ti WITH WALKER Would you believe ! one little cuss — (He turn'd his stout head slow sidewise, And 'neath his hat-rim took the skies) — " In petticoats did follow us The livelong night, and at the dawn Her boat lay rocking in the lee, Scarce one short pistol-shot from me." This said the mate, half mournfully, Then peck'd at us ; for he had drawn, By bright light heart and homely wit, A knot of us around the wheel. Which he stood whirling like a reel, For the still ship reck'd not of it. " And wheres she now ?' one careless said, With eyes slow lifting to the brine, Swift swept the instant fixr by mine ; The bronzed mate listed, shook his head, Spirted a stream of amber wide Across and over the ship side, Jerk'd at the wheel, and slow replied : " She had a dagger in her hand, She rose, she raised it, tried to stand, But fell, and so upset herself ; Yet still the poor brown savage elf, Each time the long light wave would toss And lift her form from out the sea, Would shake a strange bright blade at me, With rich hilt chased a cunning cross. At last she sank, but still the same She shook her dagger in the air. As if to still defy and dare, And sinking seem'd to call your name." k 1 dash'd my wine against the wall, 1 ru'h'd across the deck, and all The sea I swept and swept again, rN NICARAGUA. With lifted hand, with eye and glass. But all was idle and in vain. I saw a red-biird sea-giill pass, A petrel sweeping round and round, I heard the far white sea-surf sound, But no sign could I hear or see Of one so more than seas to me. -13 ) i I cursed the ship, the shore, the sea. The brave brown mate, the bearded men ; I had a fever then, and then Ship, shore and sea were one to me ; And weeks we on the dead waves lay, And I more truly dead than they. At last some rested on an isle ; The few strong-breasted with a smile Returning to the sunny shore, Scarce counting of the pain or cost, Scarce recking if they won or lost ; They sought but action, ask'd no more ; They counted life but us a game. With full per cent against them, and Staked all upon a single hand. And lost or won, content the same. I .levor saw my chief again, I never sought again the shore, Or saw my white-walld city more. I could not bear the more than pain At sight of blossom'd orange trees Or blended song of birds and bees, The sweeping shadows of the palm Or spicy breath of bay and lialin. .\nd, striving to forget the while. 1 wander'il through the dreary isle. Here black with juniper, and there Made white with goats in summer coats, The only things that anywhere 44 WJTir WALKER We found with life in all the land. Save birds that ran long-bill'd and brown. Long-legg'd and still as shadows are. Like dancing shadows, up and down The sea-rim on the sweltering sand. The warm sea laid his dimpled face, With every white hair smoothed in place, As if aslee]) against the land : (ireat turtles slept upon his brt-ast, As thick as eggs in any nest ; I could have touched them with my hand. # # # # I wciild some things were dead and iiid. Well dead and buried deep as liell. With recollection dead as well. And resurrection God-forbid. They irk me with their weary spell Of fascination, eye to eye. And hot mesmeric serpent hiss. Through all the dull eternal days. Let them turn by, go on their ways. Let them depart or let me die ; For life is but a beggar's lie, And as for death. I grin at it ; 1 do not care one whiff or whit Whether it be or that or this. f 1 give my hand ; the world is witlc ; Then farewell memories of yore. Between us let strife be no more : Turn as you choose to either side : Say, Fare-you-well, shake hands and say Speak loud, and say with stately grace. Hand clutching hand, face bent to face- Farewell for ever and a day. f LV A/CAR AG C.l. ( ) passion-toss'd and bleeding past. Part now, part well, part wide apart, As ever ships on ocean slid Down, down the sea, hull. sail, and mast ; And in the album of my heart Let hide the pictures of your face, With other pictures in their place. Slid over like a coflin"s lid. 45 'I'he days and grass grow long together ; 'i'hey now fell short and crisp again. And all the fair face of the main (irew dark and wrinkled at the weather. Through all the sunnner sun's decline Fell news of triumphs and defeats, Of hard advances, hot retreats — Then days and days and not a line. At last one night they came. 1 knew Ere yet the boat had touch'd the land That all was lost ; they were so few I near could count them on one hand ; Hut he the leader led no more. The proud chief still disdain'd to fly, But, like one wreck'd, clung to the shore, And struggled on, and struggling fell l''rom power to a prison-cell. And only left that cell to die. My recollection, like a ghost, (ioes from this sea to that sea-side, (ioes and returns as turns the tide, Then turns again unto the coast. 1 know not which 1 mourn the mo.st. My brother or my virgin bride, My chief or my unwcdded wife. 46 WITH WALKER The one was as the lordly sun, To joy in, bask in, and admire ; Tho peaceful moon was as the one, To love, to look to, and desire ; And both a part of my young life. Y Years after, shelter'd from the sun Beneath a Sacramento bay, A black Muchacho by me lay Along the long grass crisp and dun, His brown mule browsing by his side. And told with all a Peon's pride How he once fought, how long and well, Broad breast to breast, red hand to hand. Against a foe for his fair land, And how the fierce invader fell ; And artless told me how he died. 'i'o die with hand and brow unbound He gave his gems and jewelTd sword ; Thus at the last the warrior found Some freedom for his steel's reward. He walk'd out from the prison-wall L)ress'd like a prince for a parade, And made no note of man or maid, But gazed out calmly over all : Then look'd afar, half paused, and then Above the mottled sea of men He kiss'd his thin hand to the sun : Then smiled so proudly none had known But he was stepping to a throne, Yet took no note of any one. A nude brown beggar Peon child, Encouraged as the captive smiled, l.ook'd up, halt scared, half pitying ; He stoop'd, he caught it from the .sands. Put bright coins in its two brown hands. IN NICARAGUA. Then strode on like another king. 'F'wo deep, a musket's length, they stood, A-front, in sandals, nude, and dun As death and darkness wove in one, Their thick lips thirsting for his blood. He took their black hands one by one, And, smiling with a patient grace. Forgave them all and took his place. He bared his broad l)row to the sun, Gave one long last look to the sky. The white wing'd clouds that hurried by, The olive hills in orange hue ; A last list to the cockatoo That hung by beak from cocoa-bough Hard by, and hung and sung as though He never was to sing again. Hung all red-crown'd and robed in green, With belts of gold and blue between.- - 47 / i A bow, a touch of heart, a pall Of purple smoke, a crash, a thud, A warrior's raiment rent, and blood, A face in dust and — that was all. Success had made him more than king ; Defeat made him the vilest thing In name, contempt or hate can bring : So much the leaded dice of war Do make or mar of character. Speak ill who will of him, he died In all disgrace ; say of the dead His heart was black, his hands were red — Say this much, and be satisfied ; Ciloat over it all undenied. I only say that he to me, Whatever he to others was. Was truer far than any one 1 48 ///y// WAIKER That I have known beneath the sun, Sinner, sahit, or I'hurisce, As hoy or man, for ariy c aiisc ; 1 simply say he was my friend ^Vhen strong of hand and fair of fame : ] )ead and disgraced, 1 stand the same To him, and so shall to the end. I lay this crude wreath on his dust, Inwove with sad, sweet memories Recall'd here by these colder seas. I leave the wild bird with his trust To sing and say him nothing wrong ; 1 wake no rivalry of song. He lies low in the levell'd sand, Unsheltered from the tropic sun, And now of all he knew not one Will speak him fair in that far land. Perhaps 'twas this that made me seek, Disguised, his grave one winter-tide ; A weakness for the weaker side, A siding with the helpless weak. A palm not far held out a hand, Hard by a long green bamboo swung, And bent like some great bow unstrung. And quiver'd like a willow wand ; Beneath a broad banana's leaf, Perch'd on its fruits that crooked hang, A bird in rainbow splendor sang A low sad song of temper'd grief. No sod, no sign, no cross nor stone, But at his side a cactus green Upheld its lances long and keen ; It stood in hot red sands alone. Flat-pah n'd and fierce with lifted spears ; I IN NICARAGUA. 49 (Jne bloom of crimson crown'd its head, A drop of blood, so bright, so red. Yet redolent as roses' tears. In my left hand I held a shell, All rosy lipp'd and pearly red ; I L.id it by his lowly bed, For he did love so passing well Along these shining shores of gold, Crowding athirst into the sea, What wondrous marvels might be told 1 Enough, to know that empire here Shall burn her loftiest, brightest star ; Here art and eloquence shall reign, As o'er the wolf-rear'd realm of old ; Here learn'd and famous from afar, 1 o pay their noble court, shall come. And shall not seek or see in vain, But look on all with wonder dumb. The grand songs of the solemn sea. shell ! sing well, wild, with a will. When storms blow loud and birds be still, The wildest sea-song k;io.^ n to thee ! I said some things, with folded hands, Soft whisper'd in the dim sea-sound. And eyes held humbly to the ground. And frail knees sunken in the sands. He had done more than this fo mtj, And yet I could not well do moivj . 1 turned me down the olive shore, And set a sad face to the sea. Lvndon, 1871. CALIFORNIAN. 1 Olintings of day in the darkness, Flashings of flint and of steel, Blended in gossamer texture The ideal and the real, Limn' d like the phantom-ship shadow, Croivding up under the keel. f I' ! J CALIFORNIAN. I ST AND beside the mobile sea ; And sails are spread, and sails are fiirl'd From farthest corners of the world, And fold like white wings wearily. Steamships go up, and some go down In haste, like traders in a town, And seem to see and beckon all. Afar at sea some white shapes flee, With arms stretch'd like a ghost's to me. And cloud-like sails far blown and curl'd. Then glide down to the under-world. As if blown bare in winter blasts Of leaf and limb, tall naked masts Are rising from the restless sea, So still and desolate and tall. I seem to see them gleam and shine With clinging drops of dripping brine. Broad still brown wings flit here and there. Thin sea-blue wings wheel everywhere, And white wings whistle through the air : I hear a thousand sea gulls call. Behold the ocean on the beach Kneel lowly down as if in prayer. I hear a moan as of despair. While far at sea do toss and reach Some things so like white pleading hands. The ocean's thin and hoarv hair 54 CALIFORNIAN. Is trail'd along the silver'd sands, At every sigh and sounding moan. 'Tis not a place of mirthfulness, But meditation deep, and prayer, And kneelings on the salted sod, Where man must own his littleness And know the mightiness of God. The very birds shriek in distress And sound the ocean's monotone. Dared I but say a prophecy, As sang the holy men of old, Of rock-built cities yet to be Along these shining shores of gold. Crowding athirst into the sea, What wondrous marvels might be told ! Enough, to know that empire here Shall burn her loftiest, brighest star ; Here art and eloquence shall reign, As o'er the wolf-rear'd realm of old ; Here learn'd and famous from afar, To pay their noble court, shall come, And shall not seek or see in vain. But look on all with wonder dumb. Afar the bright Sierras lie A swaying line of snowy white, A fringe of heaven hung in sight Against the blue base of the sky. I look along each gaping gorge, I hear a thousand sounding strokes Like giants rending giant oaks, Or brawny vulcan at his forge ; I see pick-axes flash and shine And great whet's whirling in a mine. Here winds a thick and yellow thread. A moss'd and silver stream instead ; CALIFORNIAN. And trout that leap'd its rippled tide Have tum'd upon their sides and died. Lo ! when the last pick in the mine Is rusting red with idlenesss, And rot yon cabins in the mould, And wheels no more croak in distress, And tall pines reassert command, Sweet bards along this sunset shore Their mellow melodies will pour ; Will charm as charmers very wise, Will strike the harp with master hand, Will sound unto the vaulted skies The valor of these men of old — The mighty men of 'Forty-nine ; Will sweetly sing and proudly say, Long, long agone there was a day When there were giants in the land. 55 II. CuRAMBo ! what a cloud of dust Comes dashing down like driven gust ! And who rides rushing on the sight Adown yon rocky long defile, Swift as an eagle in his flight, Fierce as a winter's storm at night Blown from the bleak Sierra's height, Careering down some yawning gorge ? His face is flush'd, his eye is wild. And 'neath his courser's sounding feet (A glance could barely be more fleet) The rocks are flashing like a forge. Such reckless rider 1 — 1 tlo ween No mortal man his like has seen. And yet, but for his long serape All flowing loose, and black as crape, And long silk locks of blackest hair All streaming wildly in the breeze, 56 CALIFORNJAN. You might believe him in a chair, Or chatting at some country fair With friend or senorita rare, He rides so grandly at his ease. But now he grasps a tighter rein, A red rein wrought in golden chain, And in his tapidaros stands. Half turns and shakes two bloody hands, And shouts defiance at his foe ; Now lifts his broad hat from his brow As if to challenge fate, and now His hand drops to his saddle-bow And clutches something gleaming there As if to something more than dare, While halts the foe that follow'd fast As rushing wave or raving blast, More sudden-swift than though were prest All bridle-bands at one behest. The stray wirds lift the raven curls. Soft as a fair Castilian girl's. And press a brow so full and high Its every feature does belie The thought he is compell'd to fly ; A brow as open as the sky On which you gaze and gaze again As on a picture you have seen And often sought to see in vain, That seems to hold a tale of woe Or wonder, that you fain would know ; A brow cut deep as with a knife, With many a dubious deed in life ; A brow of blended pride and pain, And yearnings for what should have been. He grasps his gilded gory rein, And wheeling like a hurricane, ! CALTFORNrAN. Defying wood, or stone, or flood, Is dashing down the gorge again. Oh never yet has prouder steed Borne master nobler in his need ! There is a glory in his eye That seems to dare and to defy Pursuit, or time, or space, or race. His body is the type of speed. While from his nostril to his heel Are muscles as if made of steel. He is not black, nor gray, nor white, But 'neath that broad serape of night And locks of darkness streaming o'er, His sleek sides seem a fiery red — They may be red with gushing gore. What crimes have made that red hand red ? \Vhat wrongs have written that young face With lines of thought so out of place ? Where flies he ? And from whence has fled ? And what his lineage and race ? What glitters in his heavy belt. And from his furr'd catenas gleam ? What on his bosom that doth seem A diamond bright or dagger's hilt ? The iron hoofs that still resound Like thunder from the yielding ground Alone reply ; and now the plain, Quick as you breathe and gaze again, Is won, and all pursuit is vain. III. I STAND upon a stony rim, Stone-paved and pattern'd as a street ; A rock-lipp'd canon plunging south. As if it were earth's open'd mouth. Yawns deep and darkling at my feet ; 7 57 4 T 58 CAT.IFORNrAN. So deep, so distant, and so dim Its waters wind, a yellow thread, And call so faintly and so far, I turn aside my swooning head. I feel a fierce impulse to leap Adown the beetling precipice, Like some lone, lost, uncertain star ; To plunge into a place unknown, And win a world all, all my own ; Or if I might not meet that bliss. At least escape the curse of this. I gaze again. A gleaming star Shines back as from some mossy well Reflected from blue fields afar. Brown hawks are wheeling here and there, And up and down the broken wall Cling clumps of dark green chaparral, While from the rent rocks, gray and bare, Blue junipers hang in the air. Here, cedars sweep the stream, and here. Among the boulders moss'd and brown That time and storms have toppled down From towers undefiled by man. Low cabins nestle as in fear. And look no taller than a span. From low and shapeless chimneys rise Some tall straight columns of blue smoke, And weld them to the bluer skies ; While sounding down the sombre gorge I hear the steady pick-axe stroke. As if upon a flashing forge. Another scene, another sound ! — Sharp shots are fretting through the air, Red knives are flashing everywhere. And here and there the yellow flood CALIFORNIA^. 59 Is purpled with warm smoking blood. The brown hawk swoops low to the ground, And nimble chip-monks, small and still, Dart striped lines across the sill That lordly feet shall press no more. The flume lies warping in the sun, The pan sits empty by the door, The pick-axe on its bed-rock floor Lies rusting in the silent mine. There comes no single sound nor sign Of life, beside yon monks in brown That dart their dim .shapes up and down The rocks that swelter in the sun ; But dashing round yon rocky spur Where scarce a hawk would dare to whirr, Fly horsemen reckless in their flight. One wears a flowing black capote, While down the cape doth flow and float Long locks of hair as dark as night. And hands are red that erst were white. All up and dovvn the land to-day Black desolation and despair It seems have sat and settled there. With none to frighten them away. Like sentries watching by the way Black chimneys topple in the air, And seem to say, Go back, beware ! While up around the mountain's rim Are clouds of smoke, so still and grim They look as they are fasten'd there. A lonely stillness, so like death. So touches, terrifies all things. That even rooks that fiy o'erhead Are hush'd, and seem to hold their breath. To fly with muftled wings. And heavy as if made of lead. 6o CALIFORNIAN. Some skulls that crumble to the touch, Some joints of thin and chalk-like bone, A tall black chimney, all alone, 1'hat leans as if upon a crutch, Alone are left to mark or tell, Instead of cross or cryptic stone. Where fair maids loved or brave men fell. 1 look along the valley's edge, Where swings the white road like a swell Of surf, along a sea of hedge And black and brittle chaparral, And enters like an iron wedge Drove in the mountain dun and brown. As if to split the hills in twain. Two clouds of dust roll o'er the plain. And men ride up and men ride down. And hot men halt, and curse and shout, And coming coursers plunge and neigh. The clouds of dust are roll'd in one — And horses, horsemen, where are they ? Lo ! through a rift of dust and dun, Of desolation and of rout, I see some long white daggers flash, I hear the sharp hot pistols crash. And curses loud in mad despair Are blended with a plaintive prayer That struggles through the dust and air. The cloud is lifting like a veil : The frantic curse, the plaintive wail Have died away ; nor sound nor word Along the dusty plain is heard Save sounding of yon courser's feet, Who flies so fearfully and fleet, With gory girth and broken rein, Across the hot and trackless plain. J CALIfORNIAN. Behold him, as he trembling flies, Look back with red and bursting eyes To where his gory master lies. The cloud is lifting like a veil, But underneath its drifting sail I see a loose and black capote In careless heed far fly and float, So vulture-like above a steed (X perfect mould and passing speed. «i Here lies a man of giant mould, His mighty right arm, perfect bare Save but its sable coat of hair. Is clutching in its iron clasp A clump of sage, as if to hold The earth from slipping from his grasp ; While, stealing from his brow, a stain Of purple blood and gory brain Yields to the parch'd lips of the plain. Swift to resolve to dust again. Lo ! friend and foe blend here and there With dusty lips and trailing hair : Some with a cold and sullen stare. Some with their red hands claop'd in prayer. Here lies a youth, whose fair face is Still holy from a mother's kiss. With brow as white as alabaster, Save a tell-tale powder-stain Of a deed and a disaster That will never come again, With their perils and their pain. The tinkle of bells on the bended hills. The hum of bees in the orange trees. And the lowly call of the beaded rills Are heard in the land as I look again / 6a CALIFORNIAN. Over the peaceful battle-plain. Murderous man from the field has fled, Fled in fear from the face of his dead. He battled, he bled, he ruled a day — And peaceful nature resumes her sway. And the sward where yonder corses lie, When the verdant season shall come again, Shall greener grow than it grew before ; Shall again in sun-clime glory vie With the gayest green in the tropic scene. Taking its freshness back once more From them that despoil'd it yesterday. IV. The sun is red and flush'd and dry, And fretted from his weary beat Across the hot and desert sky, And swollen as from overheat, And failing too ; for see he sinks Swift as a ball of burnish'd ore : It may be fancy, but methinks He never fell so fast before. 1 hear the neighing of hot steeds, I see the marshalling of men That silent move among the trees As busily as swarming bees With step and stealthiness profound, On carpetings of spindled weeds. Without a syllable or sound Save clashing of their burnish'd arms, Clinking dull death-like alarms — Grim bearded men and brawny men That grope among the ghostly trees. Were ever silent men as these ? Was ever sombre forest deep And dark as this ? Here one might sleep ' CALIFORNIAN. While all the weary years went round, Nor wake nor weep for sun or sound. A stone's throw to the right, a rock Has rear'd his head among the stars — An island in the upper deep — And on his front a thousand scars Of thunder's crash and earthquake's shock Are seam'd as if by sabre's sweep Of gods, enraged that he should rear His front amid their realms of air. 63 What moves along his beetling brow, So small, so indistinct and far, This side yon blazing evening star, Seen through that redwood's shifting bough ? A lookout on the world below ? A watcher for the friend — or foe ? This still troop's sentry it must be. Yet seems no taller than my knee. But for the grandeur of this gloom. And for the chafing steeds' alarms, And brown men's sullen clash of arms. This were but as a living tomb. These weeds are spindled, pale and white, As if nor sunshine, life nor light Had ever reach'd this forest's heart. Above, the redwood boughs entwine As dense as copse of tangled vine — Above, so fearfully afar. It seems as 'twere a lesser sky, A sky without a moon or star, The moss'd boughs are so thick and high. At every lisp of leaf I start ! Would I could hear a cricket trill. Or that yon sentry from his hill Might shout or show some sign of life, ^4 CALIFORNIAN. The place does seem so deathly still. " Mount ye, and forward for the strife ! " Who by yon dark trunk sullen stands, With black serape and bloody hands. And coldly gives his brief commands ? They mount — away ! Quick on his heel He turns, and grasps his gleaming steel — Then sadly smiles, and stoops to kiss An upturn'd face so sweetly fair. So rich of blessedness and bliss ! I know she is not flesh and blood, But some sweet spirit of this wood ; I know it by her wealth of hair. And step on the unyielding air ; Her seamless robe of shining white. Her soul-deep eyes of darkest night : But over all and more than all That could be said or can befall, That tongue can tell or pen can trace, That wondrous witchery of face. Between the trees I see him stride To where a red steed fretting stands Impatient for his lord's commands : And she glides noiseless at his side. Lo ! not a bud, or leaf, or stem. Beneath her feet is bowed or bent ; They only nod, as if in sleep. And all their grace and freshness kee^ And now will in their beauty bloo In pink and pearl habiliment. As though fresh risen from a tomb, For fairest sun has shone on them. " The world is mantling black again ! Beneath us, o'er the sleeping plain. C. I /.//■() A' A /.'L\. Dull stft'l-gr;iy clouds slitU- u|) and down As if the still t'arth wore a trown. The west is red with sunlight slain I " (^5 (One hand toys with her waving hair, Soft lifting from her shoulders bare ; '{"he other holds the loosen'd rein, And rests upon the swelling mane 'I hat curls the curved neck o'er and o'er, Like waves that swirl along the shore. He hears the last retreating sound Of iron on volcanic stone. That echoes far from peak to i)lain, And 'neath the dense wood's sable zone He peers the dark Sierras down.) " Hut darker yet shall be the frown, And redder yet shall be the flame. And yet I would that this were not — That all, forgiven or forgot Of curses deep and awful crimes, Of blood and terror, could but seem Some troubled and unholy dream ; That even now I could awake, And waking find me once again With hand and heart without a stain, Swift gliding o'er that sunny lake. Begirt with town and castle-wall. Where first I saw the silver light — Begirt with blossoms, and the bloom Of orange, sweet with the perfume Of cactus, pomegranate and all The thousand sweets of tropic climes ; And, waking, see the mellow moon Pour'd out in gorgeous plcniluue On silver ripples of that tide ; And, waking, hear soft music pour Along that flora-formed shore And, waking, find you at my side, 8 66 CATJFORNTAN. My father's moss'd and massive halls, My brothers in their strength and pride." (His hand forsakes her raven rair, His eyes have an unearthly glare : She shrinks and shudders at his side, Then lifts to his her moisten'd eye. And only looks her sad reply. A suUenness his soul enthrals, A silence born of hate and pride ; His fierce volcanic heart so deep Is stirr'd, his teeth, despite his will. Do chatter as if in a chill ; His very dagger at his side Does shake and rattle in its sheath, As blades of brown grass in a gale Do rustle on the frosted heath : And yet he does not bend or weep.) I did not vow a girlish vow, Nor idle imprecation now Will I bestow by boasting word — Feats: of the tongue become the knave. A wailing in the land is heard For those that will not come again ; And weeping for *he rashly brave. Who sleep in many a gulch and glen, Has wet a hundred hearths with tears, And darkend them for years and years. Would I could tur; . their tears to gore. Make every hearth as coid as one Is now upon that liweet lake shore, Where my dear kindred dwelt of yore ; Where now is but an ashen heap, And mass of mossy earth and stone ; Where round an altar black wolves keep Their carnival and doleful moan ; Where horned lizards dart and climb, And mollusks slide and leave their slime. CALFFORNJAN. 67 " But tremble not. This night, my own, Shall see my fierce foe overthrown ; And ere the day-star gleams again My horse's hoofs shall spurn the dead — The still warm reeking dead of those Who brought us all our bitter woes ; While all my glad returning way Shall be as light as living day, From ranchos, campos, burning red. And then I And then \\,\ peri pearl" — (As if to charm her from her fears And drive away the starting tears, Again his small hand seeks a curl, And voice forgets its sullen ire, And eye forsakes its flashing fire) — " Away to where the orange tree Is white through all the cycled years, And love lives an eternity ; Where l)irds are never out of tune And life knows no decline of noon ; W^here winds are sweet as woman's breath, And purpled, dreamy, mellow skies Are lovely as a womans eyes, — There, we in calm and perfect bliss Of boundless faith and sweet delight Shall realize the world above. Forgetting all the wrongs of this. Forgetting all of blood and death. And all your terrors of to-night, In pure devotion and fleep love." As gently as a mother bows Her first-born sleti)ing babe above, The cherish'd cherub lips to kiss In her full bleiisedness and bliss, He bends to her with stately air, His proud head in its cloud of iiair. I do not heed the halhnv'd kiss ; 6S CALIFORNIAN. I do not hear the hurried vows Of passion, faith, unfailing love ; I do not mark the prison'd sigh, I do not meet the moisten'd eye : A low sweet melody is heard Like cooing of some Balize bird, So fine it does not touch the air. So faint it stirs not anywhere ; Faint as the falling of the dew, Low as a pure unutter'd prayer, The meeting, mingling, as it were. Of souls in paradisal bliss. i Erect again, he grasps the rein So tight, as to the seat he springs, I see his red steed plunge and poise And beat the air with iron feet, And curve his noble glossy neck. And toss on high his swelling mane. And leap — away 1 he spurns the rein. And flies so fearfully and fleet, But for the hot hoofs' ringing noise "IVould seem as if he were on wings. And she is gone ! Cxone like a breath, (jone like a white sail seen at night A moment, and then lost to sight ; Gone like a star you look upon, That glimmers to a bead, a speck, Then softly melts into the dawn. And all is still and dark as death. V. I LOOK far down a dewy vale, Where cool palms lean across a brook As crooked us a shepherd's crook. CALIFORNIAN. Red parrots call from orange trees, Where white lips kiss the idle breeze, And murmur with the hum of bees : The gray dove coos his low love-tale. With cross outstretch'd like pleading hands That mutely plead the faith of Christ, Amid the palms a low church stands : I would that man might learn from these The priceless victories of Peace, And woo her 'mid these olive trees. And win an earthly paradise. I see black clouds of troops afar Sweep like a surge that sweeps the shore. And check'ring all the green hills o'er Are battl :ments and signs of war. I hear the hoarse-voiced cannon roar : The red-mouthed orators of war Plead as they never plead before ; While outdone thunder stops his car And leans in wonderment afar. A fragment from the struggle rent Forsakes the rugged battlement, And winds it painfully and slow- Across the rent and riven lands To where a gray church open stands. As if it bore a load of woe. Curambo I 'tis a chief they bear I And by his black and flowing hair Methinks I have seen him before. A gray priest guides them through the door. They lay him bleeding on the floor. He moves, he lifts his feeble hand. And points with tried and trenched brand, 69 7° CALIFORNIAN. |i And bids them to the battle-plain. They turn —they pause : he bids again ; They turn a last time to their chief, And gaze in silence and deep pain, For silence speaks the deepest grief. They clutch their blades ; they turn — are gone And priest and chief are left alone. " So here my last day has its close, And here it ends. Here all is not. I am content. 'Tis what I sought — Revenge — and then my last repose. Oh for the rest — for the rest eternal I Oh for the deep and the dreamless sleej) ! Where never a hope lures to deceive ; Where never a heart beats but to grieve ; Nor thoughts of heaven or hells infernal Shall ever wake or dare to break The rest of an everlasting sleep ! " Is there truth in the life eternal ? Will our memories never die ? Shall we relive in realms supernal Life's resplendent and glorious lie ? Death has not one shape so frightful But defiantly I would brave it ; Earth has nothing so delightful But my soul would scorn to crave it, Could I know for sure, for certain, That the falling of the curtain And the folding of the hands Is the full and the final casting Of accounts for the everlasting ! Everlasting, and everlasting ! " Well, I have known, I know not why, Through all my dubious days of strife. That when we live our deeds we die j CALIFORNIAN. That man may in one hour live All that his life can bear or give. This I have done, and do not grieve, For I am older by a score Than many born long, long before, If sorrows be the sum of life. 71 " Ay, I am old — old as the years Could brand me with their blood and tears ; For with my fingers I can trace Griefs trenches on my hollow face. And through my thin frame I can teel The pulses of my frozen heart Beat with a dull uncertain start : And. mirror'd in my sword, to-day. Before its edge of gleaming steel Had lost its lustre in the fray, I saw around my temples stray Thin straggling locks of steely gray. " Fly, fly you, to yon snowy height. And tell to her I fail, I die ! Fly swiftly, priest, I bid you I~fly Before the falling of the night ! What ! know her not ? O priest, beware ! I warn you answer thus no more, But bend your dull ear to the floor. And hear you who she is, and where. " She is the last, last >.A a line, With blood as rich and warm as wine, And blended blood of god and king ; Last of the Montezumas" line Who dwelt up in the yellow sun. And, sorrowing for man's despair, Slid by his trailing yellow hair To earth, to rule with love and bring The blessedness of peace to us. 72 CALIFORNIAN. She is the last, last earthly one Of all the children of the sun ; A sweet perfume still lingering In essence pure, and living thus In blessedness about the spot, When rose, and bush, and bloom are not. " Beside Tezcuco's flowery shore, Where waves were washing evermore The massive columns of its wall, Stood Montezuma's mighty hall. And here the Montezumas reign'd In perfect peace and love unfeign'd, Until from underneath the sea Where all sin is, or ought to be, Came men of death and strange device, Who taught a mad and mystic faith Of crucifixion and of Christ, More hated than the plague or death. " Nay, do not swing your cross o'er me ; You cross'd you once, but do not twice. Nor dare repeat the name of Christ ; Nor start, nor think to fly, nor frown, While you the stole and surplice wear ; For I do clutch your sable gown, And you shall hear my curse, or prayer, And be my priest in my despair ; Since neither priest, nor sign, nor shrine Is left in all the land of mine. " Enough I We know, alas 1 too well, How red Christ ruled — Tonatiu fell. The black wolf in our ancient halls Unfrighten'd sleeps the live-long day. The stout roots burst the mossy walls. And in the moonlight wild dogs play Around the plazas overgrown, CALIFORNIAN. Where rude boars hold their carnivals. The moss is on our altar-stone, The mould on Montezuma's throne, And symbols in the desert strown. " And when your persecutions ceased From troop, and king, and cowled priest, That we had felt for centuries — (Ah ! know you, priest, that cross of thine Is but death's symbol, and the sign Of blood and butchery and tears ?) — And when return'd the faithful few, Beside Tezcuco's sacred shore, To build their broken shrines anew, They number'd scarce a broken score. Here dwelt my father — here she dwelt Here kept one altar burning bright, Last of the thousands that had shone Along the mountain's brows of stone, Last of a thousand stars of night. To Tonatiu Ytzaqual we bow'd — Nay, do not start, nor shape the sign Of horror at this creed of mine. Nor call again the name of Christ : You cross you once, you cross you twice — I warn you do not cross you thrice ; Nor will I brook a sign or look Of anger at her faith avow'd. I am no creedist. FaiA to me Is but a name for mystery. I only know this faith is her's : I care to know no more, to be The truest of its worshipi)ers. 73 " The Cold-men came across the plain With gory blade and brand of flame : I know not that they knew or cared What was our race, or creed, or name ; 9 74 CALIFORNIAN. I only know the Northmen dared Assault and sack, for sake of gain Of sacred vessels .wrought in gold, The temple where gods dwelt of old ; And that my father, brothers, dared Defend their shrines — and all were slain. " ' Fly with the maid,' my father cried, When first the fierce assault was made — ' A boat chafes at the causeway side,' And in the instant was obey'd. We gain'd the boat, sprang in, away We dash'd along the dimpled tide. " It must have been they thought we bore The treasure in our flight and haste, I'or in an instant from the shore An hundred crafts were making cha.se, And as their sharp prows drew apai:e I caught a carbine to my face. She, rising, dash'd it quick aside ; And, when their hands were stretch'd to clasp The boat's prow in their eager grasj). She turn'd to me and sudden cried, ' Come, come ! ' and plunged into the tide. I plunged into the dimpled wave : I had no thought but 'twas my grave ; But faith had never follower More true than I to follow her. "' C))i, on througii purple wave she cleaves, As shoots a sunbeam through the leaves. At last — what miracle was there !— Again we breathed the welcome air ; And, resting by the rising tide. The secret outlet of the lake. Safe hid by trackless fern and brake, With yellow lilies at her side, CALIFORNIAN. She told me how in ages gone Her Fathers built with sacred stone This secret way beneath the tide, That now was known to her alone. " When night came on and all was still, And stole the white moon down the hill As soft, as if she too fear'd ill, Again I sought the sacred halls And on the curving causeway stood. 1 look'd — naught but the blacken'd walls And charr'd bones of my kindred blood Was left beside the dimpled Hood. 75 " Enough 1 Mine was no temper 'd steel To-day upon the stormy field, As many trench'd heads yonder feel. And many felt, that feel no more. That fought beneath your cross and shield, And, falling, called in \-ain to Christ. You curs'd monk \ dare you cross you thrice, AVhen I have warn'd you twice before 1 To you and your damn'd faith I owe My heritage of crime and woe ; You shall not live to mock me more If there be temper in this brand. Or nerve left in this bloody hand. 1 start, I leave the stony ground. Despite of blood or mortal wound. Or darkness that has dimn'd the eye, Or senses that do dance and reel — I clutch a throat — 1 clench a steel — 1 thrust— I fail~I fall— 1 die . . ." 76 CALIFORNIAN, VI. Shk stands upon the wild wp.tch-towcr And with her own liand feeds the tianie— 'I'he beacon-hght to guide again His coming from the battle-plain. 'TLs wearing past the midnight hour, The latest that he ever came, Yet silence reigns around the tower. 'Tis hours past the midnight hour : She calls, she looks, she lists in vain For sight or sound from peak or plain. She moves along the beetling tower, She leans, she lists foilorn and lone, She stoops her ear low to the ground. In hope to catch the welcome sound Of iron on the rugged stone. In vain she peers down in the night But for one feeble Hash of light From flinty stone and feet of steel. She stands upon the fearful rim, Where even coolest head would reel, And fearless leans her form far o'er Its edge, and lifts her hands to him. And calls in words as sweetly wild As bleeding saint or sorrowing child. She looks, she lists, she leans in vain, In vain his dalliance does deplore ; She turns her to the light again, And bids the watchinan to the plain, Defying night or dubious way, To guide the flight or join the fray. The day-star dances on the snow That gleams along Sierra's crown CAL/FORN/AA. In gorgeous everlasting glow And frozen glory and renown. Yet still she feeds the beacon flame, And lists, and looks, and leans in vain. The day has dawn'd. She still is there I Yet in her sad and silent air I read the stillness of despair. Why burns the red light on the lower .So brightly at this useless hour ? But see ! The day-king hurls a dart At darkness, and his cold black heart Is pierced ; and now, conipell'd to flee, Mies bleeding to the farther .sea. And now, behold, she radiant stands, And lifts her thin white jewelled hands Unto the broad, unfolding sun, And hails him Tonatiu and King With hallow'd mien and holy prayer. Her fingers o'er some symbols run, Her knees are bowed in worshipping Her God, beheld when thine is not. In form of faith, long, long forgot. Again she lifts her brown arms bare, Far flashing in their bands of gold And precious stones, rare, rich, and old. Was ever mortal half so fair ? Was ever such a wealth of hair ? Was ever such a plaintive air ? Was ever such a sweet despair ? 77 Still humbler now her form she bends Still higher now the flame ascends : She bares her bosom to the sun. Again her jewell'd fingers run In signs and sacred form and prayer. She bows with awe and holy air 78 CALIFORNIAN. In lowly worship to tlic sun ; Then rising calls her lover's mime, And leaps into the lL'a])ing flame. 1 do not liear the faintest moan. Or sound, or syllable, or tone. The red flames stoop a nKMuent down, As if to raise her from the ground ; They whirl, they swirl, they sweep around With light'ning feet and fiery crown ; Then stand u]), tall, lip-toed, as one Would hand a soul up to the sun. 'rnr; last TAscffASTAS. 11 The hills were f/roicn, the heavens were hli/e, A woodpecker founded a pine-to/i ahell, While a partridge whistled the whole day through For a rabbit to dance in the chapparaL And a gray grOHW drumm'd, " All's well, all's well." I 1 Li_,. THE LAST TASCHAS'lAS. Part First. WRINKLlsD and brown as a a hag ot leather. A sqiuuv sits moaning long and low. Yesterday she was a wife and mother. To-day she is rocking her to and fro, A c:liildless widow, in weeds and woe. .\n Indian sits in a rocky cavern Whetting a flint in an arrow head ; His children arc moving as still as shadows 1 lis s(|uaw is moulding some balls of lead, With her round face painteil the battle-red. An Indian sits in a l.)lack-jack jungle, Where a grizzly bear has rear'd her young, Whetting a Hint on a granite boulder. And his quiver is over his brown back hung, And his face is strcak'd and his bow is strung. An Indian hangs from a cliff ((f granite, Like an eagle's nest built in the air, Looking away to the east, and watching The smoke of the cabins curling there, .\nd eagles' feathers are in his hair. In bell of wampum, in battle fashion, An Indian watches with wild desire. He is red with paint, he is black with passion, 10 TJi£ LAST TASCHASTAS. A«d grand as a god in his i^^ A= he leads and listens til, smrs are a-fire. • Sombre and sulkn and sad, the chieftain ;-«ndhi„:h?t: t-t;;*"' "'''''"«°^>™°''-n, knee Jekl-d to knee Waves that hnvn ^^ , laschastas : '-Ha:x.r:'i— :^--' " Awake and arise I n . Awake to the H/lth.^ w""?'"' ^'^^^^^^^''-^^ ' t'lashin^r afoj. .^.v,^ ., , "fa'" "and, fe aiar with a great gold band. Part Second. All together, all i„ council, * in a canon wall'd so high f hat no thing could ever reach then, ^ve some stars dropp'd from the sT; And the brown bats sweeping by .- W were gray and thin and uary Wise as brief, and brief as bold- Some were young and fierce and fierv Some were stately tall, and told '' Counselhngs like kings of old. Flamed the council-fire I righter I^ash'd black eyes like diaSbe^ds When a woman told her sorrows, THE LAST TASCHASTAS. While a warrior told his deeds, And a widow tore her weeds. Then was lit the pipe of council That their fathers smoked of old, With its stem of manzinnctta, And its bowl of quartz and gold, And traditions manifold. Lo ! from lip to lip in silence Burn'd it round the circle red, Like an evil star slow passing (Sign of battles and blood shed) Round the heavens overhead. 83 Then the silence deep was broken By the thunder rolling far. As gods muttering in anger, Or the bloody battle car Of a Christian king at war. " 'Tis the spirits of my Fathers Mutt'ring vengeance in the skies ; And the flashing of the lightning Is the anger of their eyes, Bidding us in battle rise," Cried the war-chief, now uprising, Naked all above the waist, W'iiile a belt of shells and silver Held his tamoos to its place, And the war-paint streak'd his face. Women melted from the counci.', Boys crept backward out of sight, Till alone a wall of warriors In their paint and bfittle-plighl Sat reflecting back the light. 84 THE LAST TASCIIASTAS. " O my Fathers in the storm-cloud ! " — ( Red arms tossing to the skies, While the massive walls of granite Seeni'd to shrink to half their size, And to mutter strange replies) — "Soon we come, C) angry Fathers, Down the darkness you have cross'd ; Speak for hunting-grounds there for us ; Those you left us we have lost — Gone like blossoms in a frost. " \v''arriors ! " (and his arms fell folded On his tawny swelling breast, While his voice, now low and plaintive As the waves in their unrest, Touching tenderness confess'd,) "Where is Wrotto, wise of counsel, Yesterday here in his place ? A brave lies dead down in the valley, I^ast brave of his line and race, And a Ghost sits on his face. " Where the boy the tender-hearted, With his mother yestermorn ? 1 ,0 ! a wigwam-door is darken'd, And a mother mourns forlorn, With her long locks toss'd and torn. " Once like pines around a mountain Did my braves in council stand ; Now I call you loud WV^ thunder, And you come at my commantl Faint and few, with feeble hand. " Lo ! our daughters have been gatherVl From among us by the foe, I THE LAST TASCIfASTAS. Like the lilies they once gather'd In the spring-time all aglow From the banks of living snow. " Through the land where we for ages 1 aid the bravest, dearest dead, Grinds the savage white-man's plonghsliare, Grinding sires' bones lor bread — We shall give them blood instead. " I savv white skulls in .i furrow. And around the cursed share Clung the Hesh of my own children ; And my mother's tangled hair Trail'd along the fuiTow there. " O my mother up in cloud-land !" (Long arms lifting like the spray) " Whet the flint heads in my arrows, Make my heart as hard as they. Nerve me like a bear at bay ! " Warriors ! braves ! I cry for vengeance ' And the dim ghosts of the dead Unavenged do wail and shiver In the storm-cloud overhead, And shoot arrows battle-red." 85 Then he ceased, and sat among them, With his long locks backward strown ; They as mute as men of marble, He a king upon a throne. And as still as ])olish'd stone. Hard by stood the war-chiet's daia^h*;!, Taller than the tassel'd corn, Sweeter than the kiss f)f hHirnin^, if 86 THE LAST TASCHASTAS. Sad as some sweet star of morn, Half defiant, and forlorn. Robed in skins of striped panther Lifting loosely in the air, With a face a shade of sorrow, And black eyes that said, Beware ! Nestled in a storm of hair ; With her striped robes around her, Fasten'd by an eagle's beak, Stood she by the stately chieftain. Proud and pure as Shasta's peak, As she ventur'd thus to speak : " Must the tomahawk of battle Be unburicd where it lies, O, last war-chief of Taschastas ? Must the smoke of battle rise Like a storm-cloud in the skies ? " True, some wretch has laid a brother With his swift feet to the sun. But because one bough is ])roken, Must the broad oak be undone? All tlie red-wood fell'd as one ? " True, the braves have faded, wasted Like ripe blossoms in the rain. But when we have sjvnt the arrows, Ufcft we nvang the strmg in vain, .'\iid then snap the bow in twain ? " Like a vessel in a tempest Shook the warrior, wild and grim. As he gazed out in the midnight, As 'u things that beckon'd him, And his eyes were moist and din» l< -t From cold east shore to warm west sea The red men followed the red sun, And, faint and failing fast as he. Fell, sure as his, their race was run. This ancient tribe, press'd to the wave, There fain had slept a patient slave, And died out as red embers die From flames that once leap'd hot and high ; But, rous'd to anger, half arose. Around that chief, a sudden flood, At hot and hungry cry for blood ; ILalf drowsy shook a feeble hand. Then sank back in a tame repose, And left him to his fate and foes, A stately wreck upon the strand. His was no common mould of mind, But made for action, ill or good. Cast in another land and scene. His restless, reckless will had been A curse or blessing to his kind. His eye was like the lightning's wing, His voice was like a rushing flood ; He boasted Montezuma's blood. And when a captive bound he stood His presence look'd the perfect king. ; 'Twas held at first that he should die I never knew the reason why THE LAST TASCHASTAS. A milder counsel did prevail, Save that we shrank from blood, and save That brave men do respect the brave. I^own sea sometimes there was a sail, And far at sea, they said, an isle. And he was sentenced to exile, In open boat upon the sen To go the instant on the main, And never under penalty Of death, to toucji the shore again. A troop of bearded l)uckskinn'd men ]^ore him iiard-hunicd to the wave, Placed him swift in the boat; -cwiX when Swift pushing o the bristled sea, His dau;:ht( r rush'd down suddenly, Threw him his bow, leapt from the shore Into the boat beside the brave. And sat her down and seized the oar, And ne\er question'd, made replies, Or moved her lips, or raised her eyes. His breast was like a gale of l)rass. His brow was like a gatlier'd storm ; There is no chisell'd stone that has So stately and com])lete a form. In sinew, arm, and every part, In all the ealleries of art. 89 (iray, l)iOii/,ed, and naked to the waist, He stood half halting in the prow. With quiver bare and idle bow. His daughter sat with her ,sad face Bent on the wave, with her two hands Held tightly to the dripping oar , And as she sat her dimpled knee Kent lithe as wand of willow tree, So round and full, so rich and free, That no one would have ever known 1 1 r 90 THE LAST TASCHASTAS. That it had either joint or bone. The warm sea fondled with the shore, And laid his white face on the sands. Her eyes were black, her face was brown, Her breasts were bare, and there fell down Such wealth of hair, it almost hid The two, in its rich jetty fold — Which I had sometime fain forbid, They were so richer, fuller far Than any polish'd bronzes are, And richer hued than any gold. On her brown arms and her brown hands Were hoops of gold and golden bands. Rough hammer'd from the virgin ore. So heavy they could hold no more. I wonder now, 1 wonder'd then. That men who feared not gods nor men Laid no rude hand at all on her. I think she had a dagger slid Down in her silver'd wampum belt ; It mignt have been, instead of hilt, A flashing diamond hurry-hid That I beheld — I could not know For certain, we did hasten so ; And I know now less sure than then. Deeds strangle memories of deeds, Red blossoms wither, choked with weeds, And floods drown memories of men. Some things have happen'd since— and then This happen'd years and years ago. " Go, go ! ' the captain cried, and smote With sword and boot the swaying boat, Until it quiver'd as at sea And brought the old chief to his knee. He turn'd his face, and turning, rose THE LAST TASCHASTAS. With hand raised fiercely to his foes : " Yes, we will go, last of my race. Push'd by the robbers ruthlessly Into the hollows of the sea, From this the last, last resting |)lace. Traditions of my Fathers say A feeble few reach'd for the land, And we reach'd them a welcome hand, Of old, upon another shore ; Now they are strong, we weak as they. And they have driven us before Their faces, from that sea to thi's : Then marvel not if we have sped Sometime an arrow as we fled. So keener than a serpent's kiss." He turned a time unto the sun That lay half hidden in the sea. As in his hollows rock'd asleep. All trembled and breathed heavily ; Then arch'd his arm, as you have done, For sharp masts piercing through the deep. No shore or tall ship met the eye, Or isle, or sail, or any thing, Save white sea-gulls on dripping wing, And mobile sea and molten sky. 91 " Farewell ! — push seaward, child !" he cried ; And quick the paddle-strokes replied. Like lightning from the panther-skin That bound his loins round about He snatch'd a poison'd arrow out. That like a snake lay hid within. And twanged his bow. The captain fell Prone on his face, and such a yell Of triumph from that savage rose As man may never hear again. He stood as standing on the main. *>. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) /. 'A 4 <^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 II 1.4 IM M 1.6 V] <^ ^ /^ ..ss. /: ,.>^^. ''^'^'^^ >^ o^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WFST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) 872-4503 » 92 THE LAST TASCHASTAS. The topmost main, in proud repose, And shook his clench'd fist at his foes, And called, and cursed them every one, He heeded not the shouts and shot That follow'd him, but grand and grim Stood up against the level sun ; And, standing ?o, seem'd in his ire So grander than a leaping fire. And when the sun had left the sea That laves Abrcp, and Blanco laves, And left the land to death and me, The only iVng that I could see Was, ever as *'ie light boat lay High lifted on the white-back'd waves, A head as gray and tossed as they. ti We raised the dead, and from his hands Fick'd out the shells clutch'd as he lay, And two by two bore him away, And wiped his lips of blood and sands. We bent and scoop'd a shallow home, And laid him warm-wet in his blood, Just as the lifted tide a-flood Came charging in with mouth a-foam : And as we turn'd, the sensate thing Reach'd up, lick'd out its foamy tongue, Lick'd out its tongue and tasted blood ; The white lips to the red earth clung An instant, and then loosening All hold just like a living thing, Drew back sad voiced and shuddering. All stain'd with blood, a stripM flood. V IN A. I wmmmmmmmmm Sad long of the wind in the mountains. And the sea-wave of grass on the plain, Thai breaks in hhom-foam by the fountains^ And/orests that breaketh again On the mountain^, us hreaketh a main. Bold thoughts that were strong as the grizzlies, But now weak in their prison of words ; Bright fancies thaijiash'd like the glaci<-rs. Xow dimm'd like the Imlre of binls, And butterflies hmldlcd as hem's. Slid fymphoni/, wil. call me v ise. Lamontf. But would you dare the curse of man and — »o3 Don Carlos. Dare I'd dare the curses of the sceptered kings I I'd build a pyramid of the whitest skulls. And step therefrom unto the spotted moon, And thence to stars, thence to the central suns ; Then with one grand and mighty leap would land Unhinder'd on the shores of the gods of old, And, sword in hand, unbared and unabash'd. Would stand forth in the presence of the God Of gods ; there, on the jewell'd inner-side The walls of heaven, carve with a Damascus Steel, highest up, a grand and titled name That time nor tide could touch or tarnish ever. Yea, any thing on earth, in hell or heaven, Rather than lie a nameless clod forgot. Letting stern 'i'ime in triumph forward tramp Above my tombless and neglected dust. 104 FNA. Lamonte. Seek not to crop above the heads of men 'I'o be a better mark for envy's shafts. Come to my peaceful home, i.nd leave behind 'I'hese stormy thoughts and daring aspirations. It is revenge that shows the savage heart, And earthly power's a thing comparative. Is not a i)etty chief of some lone isle, With half-a-dozen nude and starving subjects, As much a king as he the Czar of Rusk ? In yonder sweet retreat and balmy place I'll abdicate, and you be chief indeed. There you will reign and tell me of the world, Its life and lights, its sins and sickly shadows. The pheasant will reveille beat at morn, And rouse us to the battle of the day. My swarthy subjects will in circle sit, And, gazing on your kingly i)resence, deem You great indeed, and call you chief of chiefs ; And, knowing no o\\^ greater than yourself In all the leafy borders of your realm, 'Cainst what can pride or poor ambition chafe } "I'will be a kingdom without king, save you, Broader than that the cruel Cortes won, With subjects truer than he ever knew. That know no law but only Nature's law. And no religion know but that of love. There truth and beauty are, for there is Nature, Serene and simi)le. She will be our priestess, And in Iier calm and uncomplaining foce We will read well her rubric and be wise. A glass-like lake lies on this mountain-top ; You bend you o'er, and, resting on your palms, Claze down and down full fifty fathoms deep. And see the speckled mountain-trout that sport. w 4 h INA, All gold and silver-sheathed and scaled, above Rich palaces, brown, marble-built and massive, Hewn out and built or ever man had named The stars — when mighty Nimrod kept the chase. Black, quilless pines, perfect as those ashore — Proportion'd mighty, perfectly erect — Stand dark and sullen in the silent courts. You cast a pebble in, a nut in size. And watch it wind and wind a weary time, Then see it plain as if 'twas in your hand. Could you believe a flood could be so pure. So mirror-like, so strangely beautiful ? Some tall pines press up to the water's edge And droop adown their plumed and sable heads, And weep above their buried comrades still All night the dewy tears of Nature. A league across, the pines have broken rank And stand in small platoons, or stand alone r While far across the rolling sea-like meads Do dash and wheel the spotted Indian steeds. The warriors shout and gallop up and down. And lovely maids in beaded moccasons, Furs thick with red and yellow feathers fringed. As tall and straight as water tul^s are, Go forth in dusky beauty in their walk Beneath the circling shadows of the pines, Or bathe and dream along the borders of the lake. And far beyond, where pines crowd thick apd tall, And waters dwindle to a narrow wedge, The glad lake opes her pretty gushing mouth. And down a foaming cataract of silver Pours all her ceaseless song and melody — The far source of the lovely Willamette. At night, o'erspread by the rich, purple robe, >3 '05 io6 INA. The deep imperial Tynan hue that folds The invisible form of the Eternal God, You will see the sentry stars come marching forth And take their posts upon the field above, Around the great white tent where sleeps their chief ; You will hear the kakea singing in a dream The wildest, sweetest song a s>oul can drink. And when the tent is folded up, and all The golden-fringed red sentries faced about To let the pompous day-king pass along, We two Avill stand upon a sloping hill, Where white-lipped springs come leaping, laughing up, With water spouting forth in merry song Like bridled mirth from out a school-girl's throat. And look far down the benping Willamette, And in his thousand graceful curves and strokes And strange meanderings, men misunderstand, Read the unutterable name of Ge(at Don Carlos Why, truly now, this fierce and broken land. Seen through your eyes, assumes a fairer shape. Lead up, for you are nearer God than L SCENK IIJ. Ina, m black, alone by the sett. Midniyht. Ina. w EEP ? Me to weep ? How 1 laugh to think of it ! I lift my dark brow to the breath of the ocean. Soft kissing me now like the lips of my mother. And laugh low and long as I crush the brown grasses, To think I should weep ! Why, I never wept — never. Not even in punishments dealt me in childhood ! Yea, all of my wrongs and my bitterness buried INA. 107 In my brave baby heart, all alone and unfriended. And I pitied, with proud and disdainfulest pity, The weak who would weep, and I laugh'd at the folly Of those who could laugh and make merry with play-things '■ Then I tuck'd down my chin, and went under the lindens, And made me companions of grave horned cattle. No ! I will not weep now over that I desired. Desired ? Yes : I to myself dare confess it. Ah, too, to the world, should it question too closely, And bathe me and sport in a deep sea of candor. Bah ! Cowards deceive, and I know not what fear is. Men lie, who lack courage to tell truth — the cowards ! Like Lucifer dower'd with pride and wild beauty. With poverty cursed and the fiercest ambition, I stood all alone by my sweet child-mother ; When the kind dotard came and did bend him forward. Fast thrusting his beard by my boy, Don Carlos. And so I did wed him. Would you know now the reason ? I endured the cold frost for the spring-time to follow, Did wed to the one for the love of the other, And to get for him gold, gave my whole fair body. O, alone and unlike to all other things earthly Was my brave boy-lover : as an isle mid the oceans Of men, so alike as are drops of water. He did win my heart by his great defiance Of men and manners, and his thoughts unbridled. But now made a queen, aiier all my struggles, I shall seek him out and surprise and enrich h!m : And seek him with songs, as a sweet boy-poet. I did bear my burden long, loyal and faithful. Even down to the end, and did make no murmur ; But now he is dead, and I dare joy at it. And am I then the first that has joyed thus fiercely, And held Death's mantle while he did his office ? io8 INA. What now if the odds were but this wild courage, That does dare shape thought into plainest language ! Let the world be deceived : it insists upon it ; Let it bundle me round in its black woe-garments ; But I, self with self, — my free soul fearless — Am as frank as the sun, nor the toss of a copper Care I if the world call it good or evil. I am glad to-night, and in new-born freedom Forget all earth with my old companions, — The moon'and"the stars and the moon-clad ocean, I am face to face with the stars that know^ me, And gaze as I gazed in the eyes of my mother, Forgetting the city and the coarse things in it ; For there's naught but God in the shape of mortal, Save one — my wandering, wild boy-lover — That I do esteem worth a stale banana. i1 The air hangs heavy and is warm on my shoulder, And is thick with odors of balm and blossom ; The great bay sleeps with the ships on her bosom. Through^the Golden Gate to the left hand-yonder. The white sea lies in a deep sleep, snoring, The father of melody, the mother of measure. Lifting his breast to the moon, deep breathing. — Let me sing by the sea a song as he slumbers, A song to the air of the sweetest of singers. O tempest-toss'd sea of white bosoms, O breasts with demands and desires, O hearts fill'd of fevers, of fires. Reaching forth from the tangible blossoms. Reaching far for impossible things ! Beat not, O break not your warm wings On the cruel cold bars any more. Lo ! the sea, the great sea has his shore, And lies in his limit ; the moon Has her night, and the sun has his noon. \Sings. INA. 109 ll 1' What a wonderful world truly this is ! How barren of wisdom and worth ! How populous full is the earth Of the fools that taste not of its blisses ! Then despise not the glories before you, With your feet on the things that are real : Take the tangible loves that adore you, Touch the forms that are flesh and can feel. Leaves fade, and the frosts are before us ; Leaves fall, and the winter winds are ; Loves fail ! Let us cross and deplore us ; Loves die ! Lift your hands as at war. Lift your hands to the world and deny it : Lift your voice, cry aloud and deny ; Cry aloud, "Tis a lie !" and belie it With lives made a beautiful lie. Scene IV. A Wood by a rivulet on a uptir 0/ Mount Hood, overlooking the Columbia. Lamonte and Don Carlos, on their way to the camp, have met ivith other hunters, and are reposing under the shadow of the forest. Some deer are observed descending to the brook, and one of the party seizes hia rifle. Don Carlos. "■^TAY, then, my friend, don't strike them from your -^^ covert. Strike like a serpent in the grass conceal'd ? What, steal into their homes, and, when athirst And unsuspecting, they come down in couples And dip their muzzles in the mossy brink, Then shoot them doAvn without a chance to fly — The only means that God has given them, Poor unarm'd mutes, to baftle cruel man ! Ah, now I sef you had not thought of this I no INA. The hare is fleet, and quick at sight and sound, His coat is changed with color of the fields ; Yon deer turn brown when forest leaves are brown ; The dog has teeth, the cat has teeth and claws, And man has craft and art and sinewy arms : All things that live have some means of defence. . . Lucus. Ay, all — save only lovely, helpless woman. Don Carlos. Nay, woman has her tongue — arm'd to the teeth. Lucus. Thou Timon, what can 'scape your bitterness ? But for this sweet repose and peace of Nature, Upon whose breast we here recline and dream, Why, you might lift your voice and rail at her. Don Carlos. Oh, I am out of patience with your faith I What ! Nature quiet, peaceful, uncomplaining ? I've seen her fretted like a lion caged. Chafe like a peevish woman cross'd and churl'd, Tramping and foaming like a whelpless bear ; Have seen her weep till earth was wet with tears, Then turn all smiles — a jade that won her point ; Have seen her tear the hoary air of Ocean, While he, himself full half a world, would moan And roll and toss his clumsy hands all day To earth hke some great helpless babe, that lay Rude-rock'd and cradled by an unseen nurse, Then stain her snowy hem with salt-sea tears ; And when the peaceful, mellow moon came forth, To walk and meditate among the yellow IV INA. II I Blooms thai nnke blest the upper purple fields, This wroth dyspeptic sea ran after her With all his soul, as if to pour himself, All sick and helpless, in her snowy lap. Content ! Oh, she has crack'd the ribs of earth And made her shake poor trembling man far off Her back, even as a grizzly shakes the hounds ; She has upheaved her rocky spine against The flowing robes of the Eternal God. Nature is not content. Ha I I have heard her Rushing at night swift down the streaming plain, And, when the storm was thick and deep at night. Have seen her press her face in blacken'd mask Against my window-pane, and sob, and weep, And wail, until the great round tears ran down ; And then, as if in savage desperation. Seize violent hold and shake .the sash and frame Until they quailed and quaked like aspen-leaf. I did unbar the window for her once, This wild-lamenting fretful Nature ; She, like a wood-rear'd girl, rush'd reckless in And hid her trembling in a darken'd corner. Peer down there, half a league by clifi" and bough, Into the river's white complaining face, And see his gray hair trail'd in shifting sands : There comes a wail of terror and despair Up from his white and trembling lips a-foam. While he uplifts his thin white palms to pines That bend dark-brow'd and sad as o'er a tomb. No ! 'tis a pretty thought and pretty theme That nature reigns in majesty serene : But lift the skirts of Isis, and be wise. Lucus. Heartless ambition and unholy pride ! Hatred of man and strange contempt of woman ! ■ nw.pw.i ji|i I ijj J w^^r^^fH^^K^mnmm^mmmnimilU'fm 112 /NA, At war with all, and your own enemy ! While man is man, do not attempt to shine Too bright : consult your peace, beware of pride ; For malice shoots alone at shining marks. Beware of pride. I once did hear a leam'd Man say, " By pride the angels fell from heaven." Don Carlos. By pride they reach'd a place from which to fall. Lucus. And were they better, happier, having thus Ascended, then prostrate to fall so far ? Don Carlos. Yes ! Let me only win the love I woo ! Enjoy her but one brief hour, then lose all, I will be winner that one gracious hour ; And in my memory then will I possess A wall'd spring hung about with cooling palms, Where weary recollection traversing The barren desert of my life, might pause And bathe herself, and, resting, rise refreshed. There be some men with hope so full and strong, Their souls feed on the future — a green field — But mine will not go on, but backward turns As if for something lost or left behind : Goes back against my will, an endless lane, A stray sheep from the flock that ever keeps The dusty centre of the unwater'd way, And looks up weary at the fasten'd gates That lead to cooling springs and verdant banks, But closed against me when at first I pass'd. Lucus. There was one once of nature like to this INA. "3 He stood a barehead boy upon a clifT Pine-crown'd, that hung high o'er a bleak north sea His long hair stream'd and flash'd like yellow silk, His sea-blue eyes lay deep and still as lakes O'erhung by mountains arch'd in virgin snow ; And far astray, and friendless and alone, A tropic bird blown through the north frost-wind, He stood above the sea in the cold white moon, His thin face lifted to the flashing stars, And talk'd familiarly full face to face With the Eternal God in solemn night. Confronting him with free and flippant air As one confronts a merchant o'er his counter, And in his vehement blasphemy did say : " God, put aside this world — show me another ! God, this world is a cheat — hand down another I I will not buy — not have it as a gift. Put it aside and hand me down another — Another, and another, still another, Till I have tried the fairest world that hangs Upon the walls and broad dome of your shop. The finest one that Kas come from your hand ; L For I am proud of soul and regal born, And will not have a cheap and cheating world." ^ I. ^iJfr\^ Don Carlos. The noble youth ! So God gave him another ? Lucus. What, he, the poor blasphemous and crazy beggar ! So must you speak, or else the world will hiss you, Of these brave spirits God tries in His fire. Then takes unto Himself, as guards in heaven — Loves them and takes them as his own companions In their strong youth, as the old Greeks have said. Leaving their dust in tracts most desolate, 9 ' i7i^"i¥TBB 114 INA. A bear, as in old time, came from the woods And tore him there upon that storm-swept cliff - A grim and grizzled bear, like unto hunger. A tall ship sail'd adown the sea next mom, And, standing with his glass upon the prow, The captain saw a vulture on a clitf, Gorging, and pecking, stretching his long neck, Bracing his raven plumes against the wind. Fretting the tempest with hi'^^ sable feathers. ^. Don Carlos. 'Twas wrong, he should have lived and fought it out. This nursing a gushing heart of sentiment Does bring contempt on half the schemes of life. Tears are a woman's weapons, sorry things Even in her, but in man despicable. What ! lie down and be rode upon rough-shod ? No ! face and fight, and be at least respected. The lion is not a comely beast, but brave. And is therefore revered above all beasts. And, bravest of the brave, is chosen king. God and his angels fought for heaven ; Christ Did beat with thongs the craven money-changers ; The chosen Peter wore a willing sword, The stormy elements war through all the year ; Spring and bluff Winter strive for mastery ; Autumn and Winter struggle on the heath, And I have seen them wrestle in the woods Until the yellow leaves were all awhirl. And sighs and groans went up and down the hills. He sought the impossible — asked good unmix'd, Asked peace on earth where there is no peace. Here do the kernel and the chaff" all blend. And good and evil intwine. Hereafter, After the harvest, the segregation. Even the Christ, two thousand years ago. i TNA. In the far dawn while yet the world was young, Newer, and purer from the hand of God, Did find a traitor in His chosen twelve. 115 Lamonte. There's that in you th:.*: draws my soul to yours ; Your head, I fear, but n«>. your heart, is wrong. I will not answer now, but summon you To yon grand courts to give in evidence, Where sleep the monarchs of a thousand storms, For ever still in shrouds of color'd moss. While green vines twine a pretty wreath above, As crowning graves of dear and gallant dead ; The Yew, in cloak of everlasting green. Does sweep her pretty palms in winning eloquence, While scarlet berries bead her lisping boughs Like threaded tlrops of rainbow-painted dew, Or pearls upon an Indian maiden's limbs. Reposing there on couch of mossy carpet, Where darkest green is wove with yellow moss, And yellow wove with green, all undisturb'd By sight or sound save birds of sweetest song, While mighty trees above receive the red And hot darts of the sun on bearded helmets, Will come to you the higher evidence, Stronger a thousandfold and more convincing Than if produced by oath of all mankind. With me in my untraversed wilds and caves. My kingdom unexplored, you will read the book Of Nature that unclasp'd lies, while the wnds >i' i;g i ma,H4 . I ..:r INA. But men blown up from the world's four quarters, Gentle or vicious, serene or savago, Common alone in undoubted courage. Hist ! list and learn, as they tell their adventures. A grey Frenchman- endi a tale thus : 133 Alas, the sight I saw that night ! Alas, that I should tremble here ! I know 'tis not a coward fear, And yet I shiver as in fright. The blue fields blossom'd yellow bloom Of blii.idnts set in purple gloom, A silver shield slid on and on Between me and the better land. And I was glad. I kiss'd my hand To melting stars and mellow moon — I left the full feast oversoon. And sought the peerless paragon. Gay jesting at her clever art In hiding in some spot unknown, I sought her, thought her mine, my own — I had despised a baser thought. I sought her as I would be sought With boundless faith and beating heart, Fill'd full of sweet uncertainties, Among the moonlit, fruited trees. Alas, the sight I saw that night Through stripfed bars of streaming light, And boughs that whisper'd plaintively In solemn sympathy with me ! A red dead leaf was in her hair, Full half a swelling breast was bare, And mad disorder everywhere. And, gliding through a thorny brake And sliding like a slimy snake, 124 iNA. 1 saw him stooping steal away Like serpent caught in Paradise, That hid it from the face of day With guilty and unholy eyes. 1 saw a sight that night, that night, Because I could not help but see — Because the moon was bleached so white- Because the stars were yellow light — Because they blossom'd in a tree And dropp'd their blossoms on the grass- And saw because, alas, alas ! An evil spirit guided me. He was my friend. He ate my bread. He counsell'd very wise and well ; " 1 love you more than words can tell,'" He many and many a time had said. He suck'd the juices from my fruit And left for me the bitter rind. I am not crazed — it was unkind To suck the sweetness from my fruit And give me back the bitter rind, And did I curse or crush or kill ? Clo down to yonder wooden gate. Go down, go down, it groweth late ; You hesitate and hesitate — I tremble as if in a chill. It o])ened very wide that night. For two went through — but one return'd /\.nd when its rusty hinges turn'd, They creak'd as if in pain or fright. Three finger-prints are on the bar — Three finger-prints of purple gore. You scan my hand — here, scan it more, INA. And count my fingers o'er and o'er, You cannot see a sign of gore. I lost one finger in the war, And is it not an honord scar ? Don Carlos. Woman 1 and still the sad burden is woman I O most valiant, most gallant gentleman, Frighten'd fi-om home by the flirt of a petticoat ! Well, sigh to the moon and delight in delusions. And dream that she too turns a pale face to heaven. Bah ! barely your shadow goes out from her threshold Before she is turning all smiles on another. But you, yon gray trapper there, storm-stained and grizzled. And gazing still dreamily into the fire. Sure you have a tale without burden of woman. Come, call your far thoughts from the mountain or plain, In the wars with the savage, and fight them again. The Trapper. {Still gazing into the fire, and i^peaking in a low tone as if to himself.) Back, backward to-night is memory traversing, Over the desert my weary feet travell'd, Thick with the wreck of my dear heart-idols And toppled columns of my ambition, Red with the best of my hot heart's purple. 125 This then is all of the sweet life she promised ; This then is all of the fair life I painted ! Dead, ashen apples of the Dead-Sea border .' Ah yes, and worse by a thousand numbers, Since that can be lifted away as we will it. While desolate life with it dead hopes buried Clings on to the clay, though the soul despise ii. : 126 INA. Down under the hill and there under the fir-tree By the spring, and looking far out in the valley, She stands as she stood in the glorious Olden, Swinging her hat in her right hand dimpled, The other hand toys with a honey-suckle. That has tiptoed up and is trying to kiss her. Her dark hair is twiruig her neck and her temples As tendrils some beautiful Balize marble. " O eyes of lustre and love and passion I radiant face like the sea-shell tinted ! White cloud with the sunbeams tangled in it 1 " 1 cried, as I stood in the dust beneath her, And gazed on the goddess my boy-heart worshipped With a love and a passion, a part of a madners. O " Dreamer," she said, and a tinge of displeasure Swept over her face that I should disturb her, "All of the fair world is spread out before you ; Go down and possess it with love and devotion, And heart ever tender and touching as woman's, And life shall be fair as the first kiss of morning." I turn'd down the pathway, was blinded no longer : Another was coming, tall, manly, and bearded. !! \\ I built me a shrine in the innermost temple — In the innermost rim of the heart's red centre — And placed her therein, sole possessor and priestess, And carved all her words on the walls of my temple. They say that he woo'd her there under the fir-tree, That he won her one eve, when the katydids mock'd her. He may have a maiden and call her Merinda ; But mine is the one that stands there for ever Leisurely swinging her hat by the ribbons. They tell me her children reach up to my shoulder. 'Tis false. I did see her down under the fir-tree When the stars were all busy a-weaving thin laces 1 JNA 137 Made red with their gold and the moon's yellow tresses. Swinging her hat as in days of the Olden. True, that I spoke not nor ventured to touch her — Touch her ! I sooner would pluck the sweet Mary, The mother of Jesus, from arms of the priesthood, As they kneel at the altar in holy devotion ! 3fl 5(5 *|t Jp 'P And it was for this that my heart was kept tender, Fashion'd from thine, O sacristan maiden ? — That coarse men could pierce my warm heart to the purple ? That vandals could enter and burn out its freshness ? That rude men could trample it into the'ashes ? — Oh was it for this that my heart was kept open ? I look'd in a glass, not the heart of my fellow, Whose was the white soul I saw there reflected ? But trample the grape that the wine may flow freely I Beautiful priestess, be with me for ever ! You still are secure. They know not your temple, They never can find it, nor pierce it, nor touch it, Because in their hearts they know no such temple. I turned Hiy back on them, a Seminole banished, Much indeed leaving in dark desolation, But bearing one treasure alone that is dearer Than all they possess or have fiercely torn from me : A maiden that stands looking far down the valley Swinging her hat by its long, purple ribbons. Don Carlos. Worse and worse, and the burden still woman ! The crucifixion of rhyme and of reason, With the sweet Christ-truth bleeding dead between them ! Here you, young rover, or hunter, or poet. If you have wit, here's a chance to show it ; r 1 38 INA. Give us at least some rhymes that jingle, Nor jar the soul till the senses tingle. Hunter (siftje^s). Alone on this desolate border, On this ruggedest rinim'd frontier, Where the hills huddle up in disorder Like a fold in mortal fear, Where the mountains are out at the elbow In their yellow <;oats seedy and sere, Where the river runs sullen and yellow, This dismallest day of the year. I go up and down on the granite, Like an unholy ghost under bans. Christ I for the eloquent quiet ! For the final folding of hands ! What am I ? Where am I going. With these ti:rhulent winds that are blowing ? What sowing oi wind in the lands. And what shall I reap from such sowing ? 1 look at the lizard that glides Up over the mossy boulders, V.ith green epaulets on his shoulders. And regiment-stripes on his sides. My feel arc in dust to the ankles ; My heart, it is dustier still ; Will never the dust be levell'd Till the heart is laid under the hill ? I look at the sun sliding over, A cloud is swinging on hinges And is trying his glory to cover. But see ! his beams in the fringes Are tangled and fastened in falling, And a sailor above us is calling " Untangle the ravels and fringes.'" INA. In grim battle-lines up o'er us Gray, shapely ships are wheeling, Hulk, sail, and shroud revealing, A flash, a crash appalling, A hurling of red-hot spears, Hark ! terrible thunder calling In fierce infernal chorus ! Now silver sails are falling Like silver sheens before us. 129 What Nelson to fame aspires In the chartless bluer deep Where white ships toss and tack ? And what armed host appears ? Lo ! I have seen their fires In blue fields where they sleep At night, in the bivouac ; And they battle, bleed, and weep, For this rain is warm as tears. Oh ! why was I ever a dreamer? Better a brute on the plain, Or one who believes his redeemer Is greed, and gold, and gain ; Or one who can riot and rev^l. Than be pierced by unbearable pain. With poesy darling, in travail, That will not be born from the brain. O bride by the breathing ocean. With lustrous and brimming eye, Pour out the Lethean potion Till a lustrum rolleth by. Lulling a soul's commotion. Plashing against the sky — 16 130 IN A. Calming a living spectre With its two hands toss'd on high. Come to me, darling, adorning Like Aurora the desolate region ; Come with step stately as morning, Or come like the march of a legion, Or come without caution or wp-ning. Or come like the lordly tycoon. Or in majesty like to the moon, But come, and come soon, over-soon. Are the sea-winds mild and mellow Where my sun-brown'd babies are, A-weaving the silken and yellow Seam'd sunbeams over their hair ? Go on and go ^n in disorder, O cloud with the silver-red rim. While tangled up in your bright border, The glinting silk sunbeams swim. Don Carlos {ytmniiu^). Oh I why indulge ii". sich gipsy jargon. Since maids must mock, and men slay to protect them A song like to this with a savagest silence ? I fear, young man, you mistake your railing ; Why not fall the forests, plant red potatoes ? Or what of the art of raising green pumpkins. And tall topp'd corn with its silks of silver? Or may be some sheep could endure your measures On the Yamhill hills, if you must aspire, As you swing a crook, and so sweep your lyre. INA. Hunter. MI / The bird sings in the busy sprintj, The sea sings in his booming swells. And all his pink and pearly shells Sing of the sea, and ever sing. You break the shell or bear it far From ocean as the morning star, Yet stiH it sings, fast bound or free, In mellow measures, of the sea. And I shall sing and sing and sing, Sing ill or well, though men do chide, Until a hand in mine is laid To lead nnto the other side. Afar a ploughboy's .song is heard, in chorus with the building bird, My song is his — hi:j my reward. I heard a red breast on the wall, And then I heard the truants' call, And cast a storm of earth and stone. He flew, and perch'd him far and lone. Above a rushing cataract, Where never living thing had track'd — Where mate nor man nor living thing Could ever heed or hear him sing; And there he sang his song of spring, As if a world were listening. He sang because he could but sing. Sweet bird, for he was bom to sing. A million hearts have felt as much As ever prince of poets told, 1 3a INA. With souls that scorn'd a colder touch Than love refined to finest gold, Yet drove the team and tum'd the mould, And whistled songs and tragedies That would have thrill'd to rage or tears ; The beam and moo: their lance and shield, A moat, the furrow deep and broad ; And lived content through all their years In one long paradise of peace, Unheard beyond their broken sod. And shall I then be less than these ? They kept their fields', their flocks increase. And walk'd their ideal world in peace, 'I'hey would not drag it down to fit The mass of men with golden god — They could not drag man up to it. So lived and died without complain. All tuneless in their full refrain. They break in billows through the sod. A million poets God hath wrought ; , But very few have made pretence, And fewer still found utterance ; For words are shackles unto thought. And fancies fetter d down by words Droop dull and tame as prison'd birds. Lose all the bright hues of the sky. As does the claspfed butterfly. i {Ai the YouNo Huntek concludes, Do.v Carlos apart, and looking down the mountain to the dcclinini/ moon continue) : — ] Weil, he would make you a good maid-servant ; TNA. J 33 I could say, " She can come to you well recommended ;" For behold he has sung till they sleep most soundly. The thin, sullen moon, pale-faced, and crooked As a half-starved kine, a most vicious heifer, Is sliding down in all haste from heaven, To gore in the flank of yon sleeping mountain. My comrades sleep, and does sleep all Nature ; The world has a rest and a truce till to-morrow ; There is peace, and surcease of sin and of sorrow ; All things take rest but I — Hunter. %,. And I only, Your minstrel and whilom yt)ur roving young hunter. [Looseni/it/ his hair from his shoulders. I Ah me I My Don Carlos, look kindly upon me I With my hand on your arm and my dark brow lifted Up level to yours, do you not now know me ? 'Tis your own, own Ina, you loved by the ocean. In the warm-spiced winds from the far Cathay, O welcome me now after all my struggles, And years of waiting and my weary journeys. Don Carlos {^bitterly). " And he received her with his arm.s extended. And they were wedded, and lived long and liappily," At least so runneth the oft-told story. But life i"? prosy, and my soul uprises 134 INA. Against you, madam, as you stand before me With the smell of the dead man still upon you, And your dark hair wet from his death-damp forehead. You are not my Ina, for she is a memory, A marble chissell'd, in my heart's dark chamber Set up for ever, and nought can change her ; And you are a stranger, and the gulf between us Is wide as the Plains, and as deep as Pacific. No ! lips blood-stain'd and your limbs polluted Shall tempt me not from my lordly mountains. But now, good-by. In your serape folded, Hard by in the heat of the pine-knot fire, Sleep you as sound as you will be secure ; And on the morrow — now mark me, mr>dam — When to-morrow comes, why, you will turn you To the light or left as did Father Abram. Good-night, for ever and for aye, good-by ; My bitter is sweet and your truth is a lie. Ina {leltinff go his arm and stepping back). Well then I 'tis over, and 'tis well thus ended ; I am well escaped from my life's devotion. The waters of bliss are a waste of bitterness ; The day of joy I did join hands over, As a bow of promise when my years were weary, And set high up as a brazen serpent To look upon when I else had fainted In burning deserts, while you sipp'd ices And snowy sherbets, and roam'd unfetter'd. Is a deadly asp in the fruit and flowers That you in your bitterness now bring to me ; But its fangs unfasten and it glides down from me. From a Cleopatra of cold white marble. INA. I have but done what I would do over, Did I find one worthy of so much devotion ; And, standing here with my clean hands folded Above a bosom whose crime is courage, The only regret that my heart discovers Is that I should do and have dared so greatly For the love of one who deserved so little. And as for my lips' and my limbs' pollution, They are purer than any strong man's new-wedded, Stain'd without purpose in his coarse brute-passion. 135 Nay, say no more, nor attempt to approach me ; This ten-feet line lying now between us Shall never be less while the land has measure. See ! night is forgetting the east in the heavens ; The birds pipe shrill and the beasts howl answer ; The red sun reaches his arms from the ocean, And the dusk and the dawn kiss hands good-by, But not for ever, as do you and I. THE TALE OF THE TALL ALCALDE. 17 mm S/iaifmi'S that shroud the to-morrow, G/is.' T-.'w the life that's within, i :acc: o/ Miit md of sorrmo. And maybe a trace of sin, Reachings for God in the darkness. And for-— what should have been. Strains from the gall and the wormwood. Memories bitter like myrrh, A sad, brown face in a fir-wood. Blotches of hearts blood here. But never the sound of a wailing. Never the sign of a tear. i! I THE TALE OF THE TALL ALCALDE. Thou Italy of the Occident ! Land of flowers and summer climes, Of holy priests and horrid crimes ; Land of the cactus and sweet cocoa ; Richer than all the Orient In gold and glory, in want and woe, In self-denial, in days misspent. In truth, and treason, in good and guilt. In ivied ruins and altars low. In hatter'd walls and blood misspilt ; Glorious, gory Mexico ! WHERE mountains repose in their blueness, Where the sun first lands in his newness, And marshals his beams and his lances, Ere down to the vale he advances With visor erect, and rides swiftly On the terrible night in his way. And slays him, and, daring and deftly. Hews from him the beautiful day With his flashing sword of silver, — Lay nestled the town of Renalda, Far known for its famous Alcalde, The judge of the mountain mine, With a heart like the heart of woman. And humanity more than human ; And famed for its maids and silver. Rich mines and its mountain wine. And the royalest feast of the year was given. The yearly feast in commemoration Of the Holy Mary's Annunciation ; And the ears of night were rent and riven By turbulent men made stormy with wine — '-'"'TT; ; ~ ^' 13a THE TALK OF THE Wine by virgins press'd from the vine, Wine like gold from the San Diego, Wine blood-red from the Saint Bennetto, White and yellow and ruddy-red wine. And the feast was full, and the guests afire. For the shaven priest and the portly squire. The solemn judge and the smiling dandy, The duke and the don and the commandant^, All sat, and shouted or sang divine, Sailing in one great sea of wine ; And, roused, red-crested knight Chanticleer Answer'd and echo'd their song and cheer. They boasted of broil, encounter, and battle, They boasted of maidens most cleverly won. Boasted of duels most valiantly done. Of leagues of land and of herds of cattle, These men at the feast up in fair Renalda. All boasted but one, the calm Alcalde, Who sat stone-still in the wild wassail. Though hard they press'd from first of the feast, Press'd commandant*?, press'd poet and priest, To tell, as the others, his own life's tale ; And steadily still the attorney pressed, With lifted glass and his face aglow, Heedless of host and careless of guest — " A tale ! the tale of your life, so ho ! For not one man in all Mexico Can trace your history a half decade." A hand on the rude one's lips was laid : " Sacred, my son," a priest went on, " Sacred the secrets of every one. Inviolate as an altar-stone. But what in the life of one who must Have been so pure to be so just. Have lived a life that is half divine — TALL ALCALDE. What can there be, O advocate, In the life of one so desolate Of luck with matron, or love with maid, Midnight revel or escapade, To stir the wonder of men at wine ? But should the Alcalde choose, you know," (And here his voice fell soft and low As he set his wine-horn in its place, And look'd in the judge's care-worn face) — " To weave us a tale that points a moral. Out of his vivid imagination. Of lass or of love, or lovers' quarrel, Naught of his fame or name or station Shall lose in lustre by its relation.'' Softly the judge set down his horn, Kindly look'd on the priests all shorn. And gazed in the eyes of the advocate With a touch of pity, but none of hate ; Then look'd down into the brimming horn, Half defiant and half forlorn. '33 Was it a tear ? Was it a sigh ? Was it a glance of the priest's black eye ? Or was it the drunken revel-cry That smote the rock of his frozen heart And forced his pallid lips apart ? Or was it the weakness like to woman Yearning for sympathy Through the dark years, Spurning the secrecy. Burning for tears. Proving him human, — As he said to the men of the silver mine, With their eyes held up as to one divine. With his eyes held down to his untouch'd wine 134 THE TALE OF THE " It might have been where moonbeams kneel At night beside some rugged steep ; It might have been where breakers reel, Or mild waves cradle men to sleep ; It might have been in peaceful life, Or mad tumult and storm and strife, I drew my breath ; it matters not. A silver'd head, a sweetest cot, A sea of tamarack and pine, A peaceful stream, a balmy clime, A cloudless sky, a sister's smile, A mother's love, that sturdy time Has strengthened as he strengthens wine, Are mine, are with me all the while. Are hung in memory's sounding halls, Are graven on her glowing walls. But rage, nor rack, nor wrath of man, Nor prayer of priest, nor price, nor ban Can wring from me their place or name. Or why, or when, or whence I came ; Or why I left that childhood home, A child of form yet old of soul, And sought the wilds where tempests roll Round mountains white as driven foam, ** Mistaken and misunderstood, My hot magnetic heart sought round And craved of all the souls I knew But one responsive throb or touch. Or thrill that flashes through and through — Deem you that I demanded much ? — Not one congenial soul was found. I sought a deeper wild and wood, A girlish form and a childish face, A wild waif drifting from place to place. — -"- — ^-" TALL ALCALDE. 135 " Oh for the skies of rolling blue, The balmy hours when lovers woo, When the moon is doubled as in desire. The 'Teamy call of the cockatoo From the orange snow in his crest of fire, Like vespers calling the soul to bliss In the blessed love of the life above, Ere it has taken the stains of this ! " The world afar, yet at my feet, Went steadily and sternly on ; I almost fancied I could meet The crush and bustle of the street, When from the mountain I look'd down. And deep down in the canon's mouth The long-tom ran and pick-axe rang, And pack-trains coming from the south Were stringing round the mountain high In long gray lines, as wild-geese fly. While mul'teers shouted hoarse and high And dusty, dusky mul'teers sang — ' Senora with the liquid eye ! No floods can ever quench the fl^^rae, Or frozen snows my passion tame, Jouana with the coal-black eye ! O senorita, bide a bye !' " Environ'd by a mountain wall. So fierce, so terrible and tall. It never yet had been defiled By track or trail, save by the wild Free children of the wildest wood — A wood that roU'd a sullen flood, A sea that broke in snowy foam Where everlasting glaciers rest, Where stars and tempests have a home, 136 THE TALE OF THE And clouds are curl'd in mad unrest And whirl'd and swirl'd by crag and crest,- An unkiss'd virgin at my feet, Lay my pure, hallow'd, dreamy vale, Where breathed the essence of my tale — Lone dimple in the mountain's face, Lone Eden in a boundless waste — It lay so beautiful ! so sweet ! " There in the sun's decline I stood By God's form wrought in pink and pearl. My peerless, dark-eyed Indian girl ; And gazed out from a fringe of wood, With full-fed soul and feasting eyes, Upon an earthly paradise. Inclining to the south it lay, And long leagues southward roll'd away. Until the sable-feather'd iiines And tangled boughs and amorous vines Closed like besiegers on the scene, The while the stream that interwined Had barely room to flow between. It was unlike all other streams. Save those seen in sweet summer dreams ; For sleeping in its bed of snow Nor rock nor stone was ever known, But only shining, shifting sands, For ever sifted by unseen hands. It curved, it bent like Indian bow, And like an arrow darted through, Yet utter'd not a sound nor breath, Nor broke a ripple from the start ; It was as swift, as still as death. Yet was so clear, so pure, so sweet, It wound its way into your heart As through the grasses at your feet. TALL ALCALDE. " Oiu:e, through the tall untangled grass, 1 saw two l)lat k bears careless pass, And in the twilight turn to play ; 1 caught my rifle to my face, She chid me wiih a quiet grace And said, 'Not so, for us the day, The night belongs to such as they.' " And then from out the shadow'd wood The antler'd deer came stalking down In half a shot of where I stood ; Then stopp'd and stamp'd impatiently, Then shook his head and antlers high, And then his keen horns bac' wark threw Upon his shoulders broad and brown, And thrust his muzzle in the air, Snufif'd proudly ; then a blast he blew As if to say, No danger here. And then from out the sable wood His mate and two sweet dappled fawns Stole forth, and by the monarch stood, She timid, while the little ones Would start like aspens in a gale. Then he, as if to reassure The timid, trembling, and demure, Again his antlers backward threw, Again a blast defiant blew, Then led them proudly down the vale. " I watch'd the forms of darkness come Slow stealing from their sylvan home, And pierce the sunlight drooping low And weary, as if loath to go. He stain'd the lances as he bled, And, bleeding and pursued, he fled Across the vale into the wood. i8 »37 13^ ThM TALJS OP' TUM I saw the tall grass bend its head Beneath the stately martial tread Of the pursuer and pursued, " ' Behold the clouds,' Winnema said, * All purple with the blood of day ; The night has conquered in the fray. The shadows live, and light is dead.' " She turn'd to Shasta gracefully. Around whose hoar and mighty head Still roU'd a sunset sea of red, While troops of clouds a space below Were drifting wearily and slow. As seeking shelter for the night. Like weary sea-birds in their flight ; Then curved her right arm gracefully Above her brow, and bow'd her knee, And chanted in an unknown tongue Words sweeter than were ever sung. " ' And what means this ? ' I gently said. ' I spoke to God, the Yopitone, Who dwells on yonder snowy throne,' She softly said, with drooping head ; ' I bow'd to God. He heard my prayer, I felt his warm breath in my hair. He heard me my desires tell. And he is good, and all is well.' " The dappled and the dimpled skies, The timid stars, the tinted moon. All smiled as sweet as sun at noon. Her eyes were like the rabbit's eyes. Her mien, her manner, just as mild. And, though a savage war-chief's child. TALL ALCALDE. 139 She would not harm the lowliest worm. And though her beaded foot was firm, And though her airy step was true, She would not crush a drop of dew. " Her love was deeper than the sea. And stronger than the tidal rise, And clung in all its strength to me. A face like hers is never seen This side the gates of paradise. Save in some Indian-Summer scene, And then none ever sees it twice — Is seen but once, and seen no more, Seen but to tempt the sceptic soul. An 1 show a sample of the whole That Heaven has in store. " You might have pluck'd beams from the moon, Or torn the shadow from the pine When on its dial track at noon. But not have parted us an hour. She was so wholly, truly mine. And life was one unbroken dream Of purest bliss and calm delight, A flow'ry-shored, untroubled stream Of sun and song, of shade and bower, A fuU-moon'd serenading night. " Sweet melodies were in the air. And tame birds caroU'd everywhere. I listen'd to the lisping grove And cooing pink-eyed turtle-dove, And, loving with the holiest love. Believing, with a grand belief, That every thing beneath the skies Was beautiful and born to love, 140 THE TALE OE THE That man had but to love, believe, And earth would be a paradise As beautiful as that above, My goddess, Beauty, 1 adored, Devoutly, fervid, her alone ; My Priestess, Love, unceasing pour'd Pure incense on her altar-stone. " I carved my name in coarse design Once on a birch down by the way. At which she gazed, as she would say, ' What does this say ? What is this sign ?' And when I gayly said, ' Some day Some one will come and read my name. And I will live in song and fame. As he who first found this sweet vale. Entwined with many a mountain tale. And they will give the place my name,' She was most sad, and troubled much. And look'd in silence far away ; Then started trembling from my touch, And when she turn'd her fat ; again, I read unutterable pain. " At last she answer'd through her tears, ' Ah ! yes ; this, too, fulfils my fears. Yes, they will come — my race must go As fades a vernal fall of snow ; And you be known, and I forgot Like these brown leaves that rust and rot Beneath my feet ; and it is well : I do not seek to thrust my name On those who here, hereafter, dwell, Because I have before them dwell ; They too will have their tales to tell. They too will ask their time and fame. TALL ALCALDE. " ' Yes, they will .come, come even now The dim ghosts on yon mountain's brow, Gray Fathers of my tribe and race. Do beckon to us from their place, And hurl red arrows through the air At night, to bid our braves beware. A foot-print by the clear McCloud, Unlight aught ever seen before. Is seen. The crash of rifles loud Is heard along its farther shore.' 141 " What tall and tawny men were these, As sombre, silent, as the trees They moved among ! and sad some way With tempered sadness, ever they, — Yet not with sorrow born of fear. The shadow of their destinies They saw approaching year by year. And murmured not. They saw the sun Go down ; they saw the peaceful moon Move on in silence to her rest, And white streams winding to the west : And thus they knew that oversoon, Somehow, somewhere, for every one Was rest beyond the setting sun. They knew not, never dreamed, a doubt, But turned to death as to a sleep, And died with eager hands held out To reaching hands beyond the deep, — And died with choicest bow at hand, And quiver full, and arrow drawn For use, when sweet to-morrow's dawn Should wake them in the Spirit Land. " What wonder that I lingered there With Nature's children ! Could I part 142 THE TALE OF THE With those that met me heart to heart, And made me welcome, spoke me fair, Were first of all that understood My waywardness from others' ways, My worship of the true and good, And earnest love of Nature's God, Now that their dark days gathered near, And came calamity and fear ? idle men of empty days. Go court the mountains in the clouds, And clashing thunder, and the shrouds Of tempests, and eternal shocks. And fast and pray as one of old In earnestness, and ye shall hold The mysteries ; shall hold the rod That passes seas, that smites the rocks Where streams of melody and song Shall run as white streams rush and flow Down from the mountains' crests of snow. Forever, to a thirsting throng. " Between the white man and the red There lies no neutral, half-way ground. I heard afar the thunder sound That soon should burst above my head, And made my choice ; I laid my plan, , And child-like chose the weaker side ; And ever have, and ever will, While might is wrong and wrongs remains, As careless of the world as I Am careless of a cloudless sky. With wayward and romantic joy I gave my pledge like any boy, But kept my promise like a man, And lost ; yet with the lesson still Would gladly do the same again. TALL ALCALDE. I43 " ' They come ! they come ! the pale-face come !' The chieftain shouted where he stood Sharp watching at the margin wood, And gave the war-whoop's treble yell, That like a knell on fair hearts fell Far watching from their rocky home. " No nodding plumes or banners fair .Unfurl'd or fretted through the air ; No screaming fife or rolling drum Did challenge brave of soul to come : But, silent, sinew-bows were strung, And, sudden, heavy quivers hung. And, swiftly, to the battle sprung Tall painted braves with tufted hair, Like death-black banners in the air. " And long they fought, and firm and well ; And silent fought, and silent fell. Save when they gave the fearful yell Of death, defiance, or of hate. But what were feather'd flints to fate ? And what were yells to seething lead ? And what the few and feeble feet To troops that came with martial tread. And stood by wood and hill and stream As thick as people in a street. As strange as spirits in a dream ? " From pine and poplar, here and there, A cloud, a flash, a crash, a thud, A warrior's garments roU'd in blood, A yell that rent the mountain air Of fierce defiance and despair. Did tell who fell, and when and where. Then tighter drew the coils around. 144 I'HE TALE OF THE And closer grew the battle-ground, And fewer feather'd arrows fell, And fainter grew the battle yell, Until upon the hill was heard The short, sharp whistle of the bird. " The calm, that cometh after all, Look'd sweetly down at shut of day. Where friend and foe commingled lay Like leaves of forest as they fall. Afar the sombre mountains frown'd. Here tall pines wheel'd their shadows round Like long, slim fingers of a hand That sadly pointed out the dead. Like some broad shield high overhead The great white moon led on and on, As leading to the better land. You might have heard the cricket's trill. Or night-birds calling from the hill, The place was so profoundly still. " The mighty chief at last was down, The broken breast of brass and pride ! The hair all dust, the brow a-frown. And proud mute lips compress'd in hate To foes, yet all content with fate ; While, circled round him thick, the foe Had folded hands in dust, and died. His tomahawk lay at his side, All blood, beside his broken bow. One arm stretch'd out as over-bold. One hand half doubled hid in dust, And clutch'd the earth, as if to hold His hunting-grounds still in his trust. " Here tall grass bow'd its tassel'd head In dewy tears above the dead, \ TALL ALCALDE. And there ihey lay in crooked fern, That waved and wept above by turn ; And further on, by sombre trees, They lay, wild heroes of wildest deeds. In shrouds alone of weeping weeds, Bound in a never-to-be-broken peace. "Not one had falter'd, not one brave Survived the fearful struggle, save One — save I the renegade, The red man's friend, and — they held me so For this alone — the white man's foe. And I sat bound, a stone on stone. And waked and watched alone ; alone I looked on all, asleep or dead : Watched dead and living undismay'd Through gory hair with lifted head. " They bore me bound for many a day Through fen and wild, by foamy flood. From my dear mountains far away, Where an adob6 prison stood Besides a sultry, sullen town, With iron eyes and stony frown ; And in a dark and narrow cell, So hot it almost took my breath, And seem'd but an outpost of hell, They thrust me — as if I had been A monster, in a monster's den. I cried aloud, I courted death, I call'd unto a strip of sky. The only thing beyond my cell That I could see ; but no reply Came but the echo of my breath. I paced — how long I cannot tell — My reason fail'd, I knew no more, «9 »4S I 'A ' 146 TIf£ TALE OF THE And swooning fell upon the floor. Then months went on, till deep one night, When long thin bars of lunar light Lay shimmering along the floor. My senses came to me once more. " My eyes look'd full into her eyes — Into her soul so true and tried. I thought myself in paradise. And wonder'd when she too had died. And then I saw the striped light That struggled past the prison bar. And in an instant, at the sight. My sinking soul fell just as far As could a star loosed by a jar From out the setting in the ring. The purpled, semi-circled ring That seems to circle us at night. " She saw my senses had return'd, Then swift to press my pallid face — Then, as if spurn'd, she sudden turn'd Her sweet face to the prison wall ; Her bosom rose, her hot tears fell Fast, as drip moss-stones in a well, And then, as if subduing all In one strong struggle of the soul, Be what they were of vows or fears, With kisses and hot scalding tears. There in that deadly, loathsome place. She bathed my bleach'd and bloodless face. "I was so weak I could not speak Or press my pale lips to her cheek ; I only look'd my wish to share The secret of her presence there. \ A \ \ TALL ALCALDE. Then looking through her falling hair, Still sadder — so that face appears, Seen through the tears and blood of years — Than Pocahontas bathed in tears, She press'd her finger to her lips, More sweet than sweets the brown bee sips. More sad than any grief untold, More silent than the milk-white moon. She tum'd away. I heard unfold An iron door, and she was gone. " At last, one midnight, I was free ; Again I felt the liquid air Around my hot brow like a sea. Sweet as my dear Madonna's prayer, Or benedictions on the soul ; Pure air, which God gives free to all. Again I breathed without control — Pure air, that man would fain enthral ; God's air, which man hath seized and sold Unto his fellow-man for gold. " I bow'd down to the bended sky, I toss'd my two thin hands on high, I call'd unto the crooked moon, I shouted to the shining stars. With breath and rapture uncontroU'd, Like some wild school-boy loosed at noon. Or comrade coming from the wars. Hailing his companeers of old. " Short time for shouting or delay — The cock is shrill, the east is gray. Pursuit is made, I must away. They cast me on a sinewy steed, And bid me look to girth and guide — 147 148 THE TALE OF THE A caution of but little need, For I on Sacramento's plain, When mounted warriors thunder'd by And train'd their barbs to face or fly, Once sprang upon the stoutest steed That swept unmaster'd through the band, Fierce and unbridled, wild and bare As fabled wing'd steed of the air, And, clutching to his tossing mane, Swept onward like a hurricane, And, guiding him with heel and hand, Lay like a shadow to his side. And hurl'd the lance at tojimost speed Beneath the arch'd neck of my steed. And pierced the cactus targe that stood ■ An imaged foe against the wood, And heard the shouts of savage pride. I dash the iron in his side. Swift as the shooting stars I ride ; I turn, I see, to my dismay, A silent rider red as they ; I glance again — it is my bride. My love, my life, rides at my side. " By gulch and gorge and brake and all. Swift as the shining meteors fall, We fly, and never sound nor word But ringing mustang-hoofs is heard. And limbs of steel and lungs of steam Could not be stronger than theirs seem. Grandly as some joyous dream. League on league, and hour on hour, Far from keen pursuit, or power Of sheriff or bailiff, high or low, Into the bristling hills we go. 'V TALL ALCALDE. " Into the snowy-hair'd McCloud. White as the foldings of a shroud ; We dash into the dashing stream, We breast the tide, we drop the rein, We clutch the streaming, tangled mane- - And yet the rider at my side Has never look nor word replied. " Out in its foam, its rush, its roar. Breasting away to the farther shore ; Steadily, bravely, gain'd at last, Gain'd, where never a dastard foe Has dared to come, or friend to go. Pursuit is baffled and danger pass'd. " Under an oak whose wide arms were Lifting aloft, as if in prayer, Under an oak, where the shining moon Like feather'd snow in a winter noon Quiver'd, sifted, and drifted down In spars and bars on her shoulders brown : And yet she was as silent still As black stones toppled from the hill — Great basalt blocks that near us lay, Deep nestled in the grass untrod By aught save wild beasts of the wood — Great, massive, squared, and chisell'd stone. Like cotumns that had toppled down F'om temple dome or tower crown, Along some drifted, silent way Of desolate and desert town Built by the children of the sun. And I in silence sat on one. And she stood gazing far away To where her childhood forests lay, Still as the stone I sat upon. 1 49 ISO THE TALE OF THE And through the leaves the silver moon Fell sifting down in silver bars An play'd upon her raven hair. And darted through like dimpled stars That dance through ah the night's sweet noon To echoes of an unseen choir. '* I sought to catch her to my breast And charm her from her silent mood ; She shrank as if a beam, a breath. Then silently before me stood, Still, coldly, as the kiss of death. Her face was darker than a pall, Her presence was so proudly tall, I would have started from the stone Where I sat gazing up at her, As from a form to earth unknown, Had I possess'd the power to stir. " ' O touch me not, no more, no more ; 'Tis past, and my sweet dream is o'er. Impure ! Impure ! Impure !' she cried. In ■■ ords as sweetly, weirdly wild As mingling of a rippled tide. And music on the waters spill'd. ' Pollution foul is on my limbs, And poison lingers on my lips ; My red heart sickens, hot head swims, I bum unto my finger-tips. But you are free. Fly ! Fly alone. Yes, you will win another bride In some far clime where naught is known Of all that you have won or lost. Or what your life this night has cost ; Will win you name, and place, and power, And ne'er recall this face, this hour, TALL ALCALDE, Save in some secret, deep regret, Which I forgive and you '11 forget. Your destiny will lead you on Where, open'd wide to welcome you. Rich, gushing hearts and bosoms are, And snowy arms, more purely fair. And breasts — who dare say breasts more true When all this dear night's deeds are done ? " ' They said you had deserted me, Had rued you of your wood and wild. I knew, I knew it could not be, I trusted as a trusting child. I cross'd the bristled mountain high That curves its rough back to the sky, I rode the white-maned mountain flood, And track'd for weeks the trackless wood. The good God led me, as before, And brought me to your prison-door. " ' That madden'd call ! that fever'd moan ! I heard you in the midnight call My own name through the massive wall, In my sweet mountain-tongue and tone — And yet you call'd so feebly wild, I near mistook you for a child. The keeper with his clinking keys I sought, implored upon my knees That I might see you, feel your breath, Your brow, or breathe you low replies Of comfort in your lonely death. His red face shone, his redder eyes Were like the fire of the skies. And all his face was as a fire. As he said, " Yield to my desire." Again I heard your feeble moan, »5« tS2 THE TALE OF THE I cried, " And must he die alone ? " I cried unto a heart of stone. Ah ! why the hateful horrors tell ? Enough ! I crept into your cell Polluted, loathed, a wretched thing, An ashen fruit, a poison'd spring. " ' I nursed you, lured you back to life. And when you woke and called me wife And love, with pale lips rife With love and feeble loveliness, I turn'd away, I hid my face. In mad reproach and deep distress, In dust down in that loathsome place. " ' And then I vow'd a solemn vow That you should live, live and be free. And you have lived — are free ; and now Too slow yon red sun comes to see My life or death, or me again. Oh the peril and the pain I have, endured ! the dark stain That I did take on my fair soul. All, all to save you, make you free, Are more than mortal can endure : But fire makes the foulest pure. " ' Behold this finish'd funeral pyre, All ready for the form and fire. Which these, my own hands, did prepare For this last night ; then lay me there. I would not hide me from my God Beneath the cold and sullen sod. And ever from the circled sun, As if in shame for evil done. But, wrapped in fiery, shining shroud. Ascend to Him, a wreathing cloud.' TALL ALCALDE. «S3 " She paused, she turn'd, she lean'd apace Her glance and half-regretting face, As if to yield herself to me ; And then she cried, * It cannot be, For I have vow'd a solemn vow, And God help me to keep it now ! ' " I sprang with arms extended wide To catch her to my burning breast ; She caught a dagger from her side And plunged it to its silver hilt Into her hot and bursting heart, And fell into my arms and died — Died as my soul to hers was press'd, Died as I held her to my breast, Died without one word or moan. And left me with my dead — alone. " But why the dreary tale prolong ? And deem you I confess'd me wrong. That I did bend a patient knee To all the deep wrongs done to me ? That I, because the prison-mould Was on my brow, and all its chill Was in my heart as chill as night, Till soul and body both were cold, Did curb my free-born mountain will And sacrifice my sense of right ? " No ! no ! and had they come that day While I with hands and garments red Stood by her pleading, gory clay, The one lone watcher by my dead, With cross-hilt dagger in my hand, The every white lord of the land Who wore a badge or claim'd command, 20 I iJ! i 154 THE TALE OF THE And offer'd me my life and all Of titles, power, or of place, I should have spat them in the face, And spurn'd them every one. I live as God gave me to live, I see as God gave me to see. 'Tis not my nature to forgive, Or cringe and plead, and bend the knee To God or man in woe or weal, In penitence I cannot feel. " I do not question school nor creed Of Christian, Protestant, or priest ; I only know that creeds to me Are but new names for mystery. That God is good from east to east. And more I do not know nor need To know, to love my neighbour well. I take their dogmas, as they tell. Their pictures of their Godly good, In garments thick with heathen blood ; Their heaven with its harps of gold, Their horrid pictures of their hell, Take hell and heaven undenied. Yet were the two placed side by side, Placed full before me for my choice, As they are pictured, best and worst, As they are peopled, tame and bold. The canonized, and the accursed Who dared to think, and thinking speak. And speaking act, bold cheek to check, I would in transports choose the first, And enter hell with lifted voice. " I laid my dead upon the pile. And underneath the lisping oak TALL ALCALDE. I watch'd the columns of dark smoke Embrace her red lips, with a smile Of frenzied fierceness. Then there came A gleaming column of red flame, That grew a grander monument Above her nameless noble mould, Than ever bronze or marble lent To king or conqueror of old. " It seized her in its hot embrace, And leapt as if to reach the stars. Then looking up I saw a face So saintly and so sweetly fair, So sad, so pitying, and so pure, I nigh forgot the prison bars. And for one instant, one alone, I felt I could forgive, endure. " I laid a circlet of white stone. And left her ashes there alone. But after many a white moon-wane I sought that sacred ground again, And saw the circle of white stone With tall wild grasses overgrown. I did expect, I k low not why. From out her sacred dust to find Wild pinks and daisies blooming fair ; And when I did not find them there I almost deem'd her God unkind, Less careful of her dust than I. 155 " Then when the red shafts of the sun Came tipping down to where I stood, I hail'd them with a redder one, A lifted dagger red with blood. And vow'd to dedicate my breath To vengeance, for disgrace and death. f '56 THE TALE OF THE " Go read the annals of the Nortli, And records there of many a wail, Of marshalling and going forth For missing sheriffs, and for men Who fell, and none knew where or when,- Who disappear'd on mountain trail, Or in some dense and narrow vale. Go, traverse Trinity and Scott, That curve their dark backs to the sun : Go, court them all. Lo ! have they not The chronicles of my wild life ? My secrets on their lips of stone. My archives built of human bone ? Go, cross their wilds as I have done. From snowy crest to sleeping vales. And you will find on every one Enough to swell a thousand talcs. « « # » ^ " The soul cannot survive alone, And hate will die, like other things ; I felt an ebbing in my rage, I hunger'd for the sound of one. Just one familiar word, — Yearn'd but to hear my fellow speak, Or sound of woman's mellow tone. As beats the wild, imprison'd bird. That long nor kind nor mate has heard, With bleeding winM And panting beak Against its iron cage. *' I saw a low-roof'd rancho lie, Far, far below, at set of sun, ^i-_- [ TALL ALCALDE. 157 Along the foot-hills crisp and dun — A lone sweet star in lower sky ; Saw children sporting to and fro, The busy housewife come and go, And white cows come at her command, And none look'd larger than my hand. Then worn and torn, and tann'd and brown, And heedless all, I hasten'd down j A wanderer wandering long and late, I stood before the rustic gate. *' Two little girls, with brown feet bare. And tangled, tossing, yellow hair, Play'd on the green, fantastic dress'd, Around a great Newfoundland brute That lay half-resting on his breast. And with his red mouth open'd wide Would make believe that he would bite. As they assail'd him left and right. And then sprang to the other side, And fill'd with shouts the willing air. Oh sweeter far than lyre or lute To my then hot and thirsty heart. And better self so wholly mute. Were those sweet voices calling there. " Though some sweet scenes my eyes have seen, Some melody my soul has heard. No song of any maid, or bird, Or splendid wealth of tropic scene, Or scene or song of anywhere, Has my impulsive soul so stirr'd, Or touch'd and thrill'd my every part, Or fiU'd me with such sweet delight. As those young angels sporting there. :r 158 THE TALE OF THE " The dog at sight of me arose, And nobly stood, with lifted nose, Afront the children, now so still, And staring at me with a will. * Come in, come in,' the rancher cried, As here and there the house-wife hied ; 'Sit down, sit down, you travel late, What news of politics or war ? And are you tired ? Go you far ? And where you from? Be quick, my Kate, This boy is sure in need of food.' The little children close by stood, And watch'd and gazed inquiringly, Then came and climb'd upon my knee. " ' That there's my ma,' the eldest said, And laugh'd and toss'd her pretty head ; And then, half bating of her joy, ' Have you a ma, you stranger boy ?— And there hangs Carlo on the wall As large as life ; that mother drew With berry stains upon a shred Of tattered tent ; but hardly you Would know the picture his at all, For Carlo's black, and this is red." Again she laughed, and shook her head, And showered curls all out of place ; Then sudden sad, she raised her face To mine, and tenderly she said, * Have you, like us, a pretty home ? Have you, like me, a dog and toy ? Where do you live, and whither roam ? And Where's your pa, poor stranger boy ?' "It seem'd so sweetly out of place Again to meet my fellow-man, I ' I TALL ALCALDE, I gazed and gazed upon his face As something I had never seen. The melody of woman's voice Fell on my ear as falls the rain Upon the weary, waiting plain. I heard, and drank and drank again, As earth with crack'd lips drinks the rain, In green to revel and rejoice. I ate with thanks my frugal food, The first return'd for many a day. I had met kindness by the way ! I had at last encounter'd good ! " I sought my couch, but not to sleep ; New thoughts were coursing strong and deep My wild impulsive passion-heart ; I could not rest, my heart was moved. My iron will forgot its part, And I wept like a child reproved. Never was Christian more devout. Never was lowlier heart than mine. Never has pious Moslem yet, When bearded Muezzin's holy shout Has echoed afar fiom minaret, Knelt lowlier down to saint or shrine, Than knelt that penitent soul of mine. " I lay and pictured me a life Afar from cold reproach or stain, Or annals dark of blood and strife, From deadly perils or heart-pain ; And at the breaking of the morn I swung my arms from off the horn, And turned to other scenes and lands With lighten'd heart and whiten'd hands. IS9 x6o THE TALE OF THE TALL ALCALDE. " Where orange-blossoms never die, Where red fruits ripen all the year Beneath a sweet and balmy sky, Far from my language or my land, Reproach, regret, or shame or fear, I came in hope, I wander'd here — Yes, here ; and this red, bony hand That holds this glass of ruddy cheer — •" " 'Tis he ! " hissed the crafty advocate. He sprang to his feet, and hot with hate He reached his hands, and he called aloud, ** 'Tis the renegade of the red McCloud ! " Then slow the Alcalde rose and spoke. And the lightning flash'd from a cloud of hair, *' Hand me, touch me, him who dare ! " And his heavy glass on the board of oak He smote with such savage and mighty stroke, It ground to dust in his bony hand. And heavy bottles did clink and tip As if an earthquake were in the land. He tower'd up, and in his ire Seem'd taller than any church's spire. He gazed a moment — and then, the while An icy cold and defiant smile Did curve his thin and his livid lip, He turn'd on his heel, he strode through the hall Grand as a god, so grandly tall, And white and cold as a chisell'd stone. He pass'd him out the adobe door Into the night, and he pass'd alone, And never was known nor heard of. more. ' KIT CARSON'S RIDE. 21 Room I Room to turn round in, to breathe and he free. And to grcnu to be giant, to sail as at sea With the speed of the wind on a steed with his mane To the wind, without pathway or route or a rein. Room ! Loom to be frie where the white-bordered sea Blows a kiss to a brother as boundless as he ; And to east and to west, to the north and the sun, Blue skies and broivn grasses are welded as one. And the buffalo come like a cloud on the plain. Pouring on like the tide of a storm-driven main. And the lodge of the hunter to friend or to foe Offers rest ; and unquestioned you come or ymi go. My plains of America ! Seas of wild lands ! From a land in the seas in a raiment of foam, That has reached to a stranger the welcome of home, I turn to you, lean to you, lift you my hands. London, 1871. KIT CARSON'S RIDE. " "13 UN ? Now you bet you ; I rather guess so ! -L t' But he's bhnd as a badger. Whoa, Pach6, boy, whoa. No, you wouldn't believe it to look at his eyes, But he is, badger blind, and it happened this wise. " We lay in the grasses and the sun-burnt clover That spread on the ground like a great brown cover Northward and southward, and west and away To the Brazos, to where our lodges lay. One broad and unbroken sea of brown. Awaiting the curtains of night to come down To cover us over and conceal our flight . With my brown bride, won from an Indian town That lay in the rear the full ride of a night. " We lounged in the grasses — her eyes were in mine, And her hands on my knee, and her hair was as wine In its wealth and its flood, pouring on and all over Her bosom wine-red, and pressed never by one ; And her touch was as warm as the tinge of the clover Burnt brown as it reached to the kiss of the sun, And her words were as low as the lute-throated dove, And as laden with love as the heart when it beats In its hot eager answer to earliest love, Or the bee hurried home by its burthen of sweets. , " We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels. Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride ; And the heavens of blue and the harvest of brown And beautiful clover were welded as one, 164 KTT CARSON'S RTDE. To the right and the left, in the light of the sun. ' Forty full miles if a foot to ride, Forty full miles if a foot, and the devils Of red Camanches are hot on the track When once they strike it. Let the sun go down Soon, very soon,' muttered bearded old Revels As he peered at the sun, lying low on his back, Holding fast to his lasso. Then he jerked at his steed And he sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around, And then dropped, as if shot, with his ear to the ground \ Then again to his feet, and to me, to my bride. While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud. His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud. And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from a reed, — ' Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle to steed. And speed you if ever for life you would speed, And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride ! For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire, And feet of wild horses hard flying before I hear like a sea breaking high on the shore, While the buffalo come like a surge of the sea, Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire.' *' We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein. Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over again. And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheers. Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold. Cast aside the catenas red-spangled with gold, And gold-mounted Colt's, the companions of years, Cast the silken scrapes to the wind in a breath. And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horse — As bare as when born, as when new from the hand Of God — without word, or one word of command. Turned head to the Brazos in a red race with death. Turned head to the Brazos with a breath in the hair KIT CARSON'S RIDE. Blowing hot from a king leaving death in his course ; Turnt'd head to the Hrazos with a sound in the air T.ike the rush of an army, and a flash in the eye Of a red wall of fire reac hing up to the sky, Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse. " Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall, Not a kiss from my bride, not a look nor low call Of love-note or courage ; but on o'er the plain So steady and still, leaning low to the mane, With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, Rode we on, rode we tiiree, rode we nose and gray nose, Reaching long, breathing loud, as a creviced wind blows : Yet we broke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer, There was work to be done, there was death in the air, And the chance was as one to a thousand for all. .65 " Gray nose to gray nose, and each steady mustang Stretched neck and stretched nerve till the arid earth rang. And the foam from the Hank and the croup and the neck Flew around like the spray on a storm-driven deck. Twenty miles ! . . . thirty miles I ... a dim distant speck Then a long reaching line, and the Brazos in sight, And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight. I stood in my stirrup and looked to my right — But Revels was gone ; I glanced by my shoulder And saw his hor.se stagger ; I saw his head drooping Hard down on his breast, and his naked breast stooping Low down to the mane, as so swifter and bolder Ran reaching out for us the red-footed tire. To right and to left the black buffalo came, A terrible surf on a red sea of flame Rushing on in the rear, reaching high, reaching higher. And he rode neck to neck to a buffalo bull, t66 KIT CARSON'S RIDE. The monarch of millions, with shaggy mane full Of smoke and of dust, and it shook with desire Of battle, with rage and with bellowings loud A.nd unearthly, and up through its lowering cloud Came the flash of his eyes like a half-hidden fire, While his keen crooked horns, through the storm of his mane. Like black lances lifted and lifted again ; And I looked but this once, for the fire licked through. And he fell and was lost, as we rode two and two. " I looked to my left then — and nose, neck and snoulder Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs ; And up through the black blowing veil of her hair Did beam full in mine her two marvellous eyes, With a longing and love, yet a look of despair And of pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her, And flames reaching far for her glorious hair. Her sinking steed faltered, his eager ears fell To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell Did subside and recede, and the nerves fall as dead. Then she saw sturdy Pach^ still lorded his head, With a look of delight ; for nor courage nor bril)e, Nor naught but my bride, could have brought him to me. For he was her father's, and at South Santafee Had once won a whole herd, sweeping everything down In a race where the world came to run for the crown. And so when I won the true heart of my bride^ — My neighbor's and deadliest enemy's child, And child of the kingly war-chief of his tribe — She brought me this steed to the border the night She niv^t Revels and me in her perilous flight P'rom the lodge of the chief to the North Brazos side ; And said, so half guessing of ill as she smiled, As if jesting, that I, and I only, should ride The fleet-footed Pach^, so if kin should pursue I should surely escape without other ado ■■■I KIT CARSON'S RIDE. 167 Than to ride, without blood, to the North Brazos side, And await her — and wait till the next hollow moon Hunj her horn in the palms, when surely and soon And swift she would join me, and all would be well Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire, The last tiiat I saw was a look of delight That I should escape — a love — a desire — Yet never a word, not one look of appeal, Lest I should reach hand, should stay hand or stay heel One instant for her in my terrible flight. " Then the rushing of fire around me and under, And a howling of beasts and a sound as of thunder — Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over. As the passionate flame reached around them, and wove her Red hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died — Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan, As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone ... And into the Brazos ... I rode all alone — All alone, save only a horse long-limbed. And blind and bare and burnt to the skin. Then just as the terrible sea came in And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide. Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream brimmed In eddies, we struck on the opposite side. " Sell Pach4 — blind Pach^ ? Now, mister, look here, You have slept in my tent and partook of my cheer Many days, many days, on this rugged frontier. For the ways they were rough and Camanches were near ; But, you'd better pack up, sir ! That tent is too small For us two after this ! Has an old mountaineer. Do you book-men believe, got no tura-tum at aP? i68 KIT CARSON'S RIDE. Sell Pach6 ! You buy him ! A bag full of gold ! You show him ! I'ell of him the tale I have told ! Why, he bore me through fire, and is blind, and is old ! . . Now pack up your papers, and get up and spin To them cities you tell of . . . Blast you and your tin !" \\ I BURNS AND BYRON. at I! Eld Druid oaks of Ayr ! Prcccf-° Itt 12.2 I4S 2.0 IIIIIM U IIIIII.6 Vi '^# ">.' O W M '^ 7 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) 872-4503 Life ktimvs uo dead so hcaiitijiil As is the tie. Than have you bear one touch of blame. I know yours was the lighter hear*. And yours the hope of grander meed ; i8o MYRRH, lii Yet did I falter in my part ? But there is weakness in defeat, And I had felt its iron stride While your young feet were yet untried. I set my face for power and place, My soul is toned to sullenness, My heart holds not one sign or trace Of love, or trust, or tenderness. But you — your years of happiness God knows I would not make them less. And yet it were a bootless strife ; Too soon and sudden up the way I hurried in the spring of life. And wearied ere the noon of day. I did not reach — was it a crime Thnt my life knew no summer-time ? And you will come some summer eve. When wheels the white moon on her track, And hear the plaintive night-bird grieve. And heed the crickets clad in black ; Alone — not far — a little spell, And say, "Well, yes, he loved me well;" And sigh, " Well, yes, I mind me now, None were so bravely true as he ; And yet his love was tame somehow, It was so truly true to me ; I wish his patient love had less Of worship and of tenderness : " I wish it still, for thus alone There comes a keen reproach of pain, A feeling I dislike to own ; Half yearnings for his voice again, MYRRIL Half longings for his earnest gaze, To know him mine always — always." i8i I make no murmur : steady, calm, Sphinx-like I gaze on days ahead. No wooing word, no pressing palm, No sealing love with lips seal-red, No waiting for some dusk or dawn. One sacred hour ... all are gone. I go alone : no little hands To lead me from forbidden ways. No little voice in other lands Shall cheer through all the weary days; Yet these are yours, and that to me Is much indeed ... So let it be .. . ... A last look from my mountain wall I watch the red sun wed the sea Beside your home . . . the tides will fall And rise, but never more shall we Stand hand in hand and watch them flow. As we once stood . . . Christ ! this is so ! But, when the stately sea comes in With measured tread and mouth afoam, My darlings cry above the din, And ask, " Has father yet come home?" Then look into the peaceful sky. And answer, gently, " By and by." One deep spring in a desert sand. One mossed and mystic pyramid, A lonely palm on either hand, A fountain in a forest hid, 1 82 MYRRH. Arc all my life has realized Of all I cherish'd, all I prized : Of all I dream'd in early youth Of love by streams and love-lit ways, While my heart held its type of truth Through all the tropic golden days, And I the oak, and you the vine. Clung palm in palm through cloud or shine. Some time when clouds hang overhead, (What weary skies without one cloud !) You may muse on this love that's dead, Muse calm when not so young or proud, And say, "' At last it comes to me, That none were ever tnie as he." My sin was that I loved so much — But I enlisted for the war. Till we the deep-sea shore should touch, Beyond Atlanta — near or far — And truer soldier never yet Bore shining sword or bayonet. I did not blame you — do not blanic. The stormy elements of soul That I did scorn to tone or tame. Or bind down unto dull control In full fierce youth, they all are yours, With all their folly and their force. Cod keep you pure, oh, very pure, Clod give you grace to dare and do ; Ood give you courage to endure The all He may demand of you. Keep time-.'rosts from your raven hair, And your young heart without a care. MYRRH. I make no murni|^r nor complain ; Above me are the stars and blue Alluring far to grand refrain ; Before, the beautiful and true, To love or hate, to win or lose ; Lo ! I will now arise, and choose. 183 But should you sometime read a sign, A name among the princely few, In isles of song beyond the brine. Then you will think a time, and you Will turn and say, " He once w. ; mine. Was all my own ; his smiles, his tears Were mine — were mine for years and years. Blue Mountains, Oregon, 1S70. EVEN SO. 24 Sierras, and eternal iaits Of snmv that flash o'er hattletnetits Of mountains ! My land of the sun, Am I not true ? have I not done All things for thine, for thee alone, sun-land, sea-land, thou mine own ? From other lot'es and other lands, As true pet ha(>s, as strong of hands. Have I not turned to thee and thine, O sun-land oj the palm and pine. And sung thy scenes, surpassing skies. Till Europe lifted up her face And marvelled at thy matchless grace, IVith eager and inquiring e}'es ? Be my reioard some littl-r place To pitch my tent, some ttw and vine. And dream, or sing some iongs of thee ; Or days to climb to Shasta's dome Again, and be with gods at home. Salute my mountains, — clouded Hood, Saint Helens in its sea of wood, — Where sioeeps the Oregon, and where White storms are in the feathered fir. Athens, 187O. EVEN SO. SHE was not full tall, was not fairer than others, But there was in her eyes, so proud and glorious, A dream, a wonder, a dangerous witchery ; And when into yours they did look steadfastly With a longing and trust as if asking sympathy. As in talk, low-voiced, with your soul in confidence. While her rich full lips, red-pouting and luscious, Kept forth sweet-blended their mirth and sentiment:, A battery sheltered by a brown flood of tresses, That lay or lifted in the warm winds fretted About a brow of most marvellous beauty — You were less of a man than I should desire To know much of, to have been unmoved. Where pine-tops toss curly clouds to heaven And shake them far like to downs of thistle. In a rift of canon cleft so asunder That it seem'd as 'twere earth's lips half open'd Where men wrought gold from the rock-ribb'd mountain, She patient abode with her faithful mother. And brawny giants, men bro\vn'd and bearded. Did bless the brown earth as she walk'd upon it. And call her more pure than their yellow gold treasures. By the trails sometimes that wound round the mountain Above brave men toiling long at the sluices, The cheery girl passing would kind and playful Call to them all kind words of encouragement. Then awake the echoes of the frowning mountains With gushing laugh at their honest answers, 1 88 EVEN SO. And pass them on in a blaze of glory. They, blessuig her heart, wonl'l then put from them Their coarser thoughts, and, bent to the boulders, Would recall fair faces far over the water. And be, for her, the happier and better For many and many a day thereafter. In the shadows a-west of the sunset mountains, Where old-time giants had dwelt and peopled, And built up cities and castled battlements. And rear'd up pillars that pierced the heavens, A poet dwelt, of the book of Nature — An ardent lover of the pure and beautiful, Devoutest lover of the true and beautiful, Profoundest lover of the grand and beautiful — With a heart all impulse, intensest passion, AVho believed in love as in God Eternal — A dream while t'le waken'd world went over. An Indian summer of the sullen seasons ; And he sang wild songs like the wind in cedars, Was tempest-toss'd as the pines, yet ever As fix'd in truth as they in the mountains. He had heard her name as one hears of a princess, Her glory had come unto him in stories ; From afar he had look'd as entranced upon her ; He gave her name to the wind in measures. And he heard her name in the deep-voiced cedars, And afar in the winds rolling on like the billows. Her name in the name of another for ever Gave all his numbers their grandest strophes ; He enshrined her image in his heart's high temple, And saint-like held her, too sacred for mortal. He came to fall like a king of the forest Caught in the strong stormy arms of the wrestler ; EVEN so. Forgetting his songs, his crags and his mountains, And nearly his God, in his wild deep passion ; And when he had won her and turned him homeward, With the holiest pledges love gives its lover. The mountain route was as strewn with roses. Can a high love then be a thing unholy, To make us better and bless'd supremely ? The day was fix'd for the feast and nuptials ; He craz'd with impatience at the tardy hours ; He flew in the face of old Time as a tyrant He had fought the days that stood still between them, One by one, as you fight with a fjemar Had they been animate and sensate bciUgs. 189 At last tlien the hour came coldly fon^urd. When Mars was trailing his lance on the mountains He rein'd his steed and look'd down in the canon To where she dwelt, with a heart of fire ; He kiss'd his hand to the smoke slow curling. Then bowed his head in devoutest blessing. His spotted courser did plunge and fret him Beneath his gay and silk-fringed carofia. And toss his neck in a black mane banner'd ; Then all afoam, plunging iron-footed, Dash'd him adown with a wild impatience. /