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TORONTO : HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY. 1876. 72577 Entered according to the Act of the Par- <*?f 1* of Canada, In the year one thousand v^^l * S^*? ^?^ seventy-six. by Hunter, K03E & Co., in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. PRINTBD AND BOUND B7 HUNTBR, R08.B AND CO., TORONTO. 1 i ^dkalion* To the memory of those who watohed m.y infanoy, whose love gladden ad my ohild- hood, whose prayers strengthened m.y better pzorjjuses, whose holy example I would emulate, and the preoious memories of whom I would not relinquish for aught terrestrial — to the memory of my sainted (Parents the following pages are inscribed. If, J.. W, d^%d PREFACE. ,Tis now eighteen years since I became acquainted with Miss Wilkins. I had ah-eady seen a small volume of her poems, with many of which poems I was favourably impressed. When I met her, therefore, I was solicitous to know somewhat of her history and circum- stances. I found that she was the daughter of a deceased minister, that her mother was in infirm health, and that the care of two younger members of the family devolved largely upon herself. I also found that, to eke out a precarious subsistence for mother, self and family, she was teaching a small private school, and giving lessons in music. From that time to the present I have felt a deep interest in what she has attempted and achieved. With that sympathy which is always found in company with goodness, she has sought and found many spheres of use- ful Christian labour, viz., visiting the sick, seeking out "the neglected and the forgotten," conducting Bible Classes in o«r gaol, and ministering, by her counsels and VI PREFACE. her prayers, to the encouragement and comfort of many. In the midst of necessary toil, and her unostentatious and unrecorded works of benevolence, she has continued to court the Sacred Nine. Her effusions are, to a great extent, lyrical, and many of them of a very high charac- ter. There is a delicacy, a beauty, a tenderness, together with a rich hue of thought, pervading almos*^^ all she has written. Her martial strains are whole-souled, and ring out the brave unconquerable spirit with unusual force. "The Soldier of Auvergne," "The Death of Captain Headley Vicars," and many others of this class, have sel- dom been surpassed. Her " Tears," when shed, almost invariably find responsive drops in other's eyes. As a poet she is natural, hearty and pure, not straining after effect. She nevertheless accomplishes what many more showy than she cannot attain to. I speak thus touching such of her poetry as has already appeared in print ; and I can speak equally definite as to such MSS. as I have examined. I sincerely hope that Miss Wilkins, in this her effort to collect into one volume such pieces as, from their intrinsic merit, ought to live, will be met by a generous public with the patronage she so truly deserves. WM. STEPHENSON. " WESLEY CHURCH" PARSONAGE, HAMILTON, Nov., 1875. CONTENTS. The Forest Stream A True Story On laying the corner stone of the Masonic Hall, Hamil- ton, July Ist, 1873 Twin Daughters Panthea Legend of Strasbourg Cathe- dral Wings Marching Song of the Xli'ltii Battalion The Prairie Flower Death of Gaudentis The Cross on the Carpet...!.. A Mournful Journey Lines The burden of Dumah.. !!.!!.. Evelyn's lover at her death- Silent Worship .... In the com fielda The Prince of Wales at the Tomb of Washington Vincennes A three-fold prayer First funeral in Middle Park Colorado My birthday "" The Healer ;;; A Story of the Past The Evening Message To Minnie PAGE 9 11 16 19 21 25 28 81 32 34 37 39 41 43 45 48 50 53 56 60 63 65 68 70 73 75 Rockbay 77 The Soldier of Auvergne .,* 79 A late Visitor gi Recollections ]. 93 Flowers for Prince Albert's Coffin 35 The Officer's farewell SS Love's Requital. ' 91 King Edwin and the Thane. . 94 On the death of Rev, Dr. E. Neville ' 97 The Magdalene .......*. 99 The Emigrant Bird ..." IQO (.Christmas Sonnet * 104 Nina in the dungeon of Rienzi ... iqq A Soldier's Story ,.,..........'..' 108 On a Picture m The old Fisherman .......... II4 On the death of Edward Mason, Esq ng The Palais Cardinal 120 On the Mountain Top 124 Alfreda to Seller 127 The Prayer of David .".'.'..".'.' 130 The clouded Star 132 Coronation of Godfrey de Bouillon 133 Hope ..........!! 136 Prayer for the Absent.....!! 138 Our Father's Grave 140 Beautiful Lilly !!!! 142 The Ruins of Copan !! 144 I viU (;<>NTK^ TS. PAOK ToBaby Bickle 147 Our Hector's ChriHtmaa greet- ing 149 (m the burial of a Member of the Order of Odd-fellows 152 The Queen's Prayer 155 "I sometimes think it were best" ... l'>8 Answer to "I sometimes tliink it were best "' 1 59 Reciuiescat 163 Coleraine 1G6 On the arrival of the "Eto- wah" 170 The Catacombs of Rome .... 173 Midniyht 175 Isabella of Valois 177 Only HO tired 180 Frozen to death 183 Ten thousand men to the Front 186 O'erwearied 188 In Memoriam 190 Aleine 193 Wanderintj 196 Twice Asleep 198 PAGE Funerrl of Captain Malcolm- son 201 Rahab 204 An Apostrophe over the grave of Brant 208 A Ilemeinbrance 212 On the Desjardin's Catas- trophe 216 Death of Captain Headley Vicars 218 "Far better" 221 Death of King Henry II ... 223 iJnder the Snow 228 Festival of St. John the Baptist 2^30 Festival of St. Join the Evangelist 23ii The battle of Ridgeway 236 The bridegroom's re verie 239 Passeth away 242 Employment in Heaven 245 Lake Ontario at sunset 248 Queen Victoria at the nup- tials of her Son 250 The Pilgrim's Song of Confi- dence 254 Hi 4 Wayside r lowers. THE FOREST STREAM. HERE flows a stream in the forest shade, Rippling its course through the mossy glade ; Onward h flows to the rushing lake, Over the pebbles, through fen and brak ; The maple bends o'er its surface mild, Like a parent fondling a loving child, And the shady leaves of the mountain ash Into the face of its mirror dash. All day long, ^.hrough the burning hours, It sprinkles spray on the fainting flowers— When the fiery ma exhales the mist From leaves which the dewdrop softly kissed ; It laves the roots of the rocking pines. It sings a song to the climbing vines, And the young buds curl themselves to sleep, Rocked by the music so clear and deep. 10 WAYSrnE FLOWERS. And onward still does the water pass, O'er the bloodless veins of the tangled grass : The quivering lilies feel its touch, And the wild rose leaf has a richer blush ; And al) the long and noiseless night The stars peer down from their azure height, Keeping their watch with the stream that flows, Blessing and loving wherever it goes. I wonder if we, as our path we take, On to the waves of Eternity's lake — I wonder if we shed as bright a gleam Around our path a-^ hat forest stream. Heart of Pride ! c. ae down to the river, Look in the depths where the lilies quiver ; Passion, Ambition, your fury lave In the founts of that Hoftly murmuring wave ! God of the flowers, the trees, the brooks. Teach us Life's lesson from Nature's books ! So may we pass through Immanuel's ground. In love's sweet service for ever found. Angels of Purity ! near us stay. Angels of Charity ! light our way, While through the forest of Life we roam, Steadily, patiently, journeying home. A TRUE STORY. 11 A TRUE STORY. " Ye who believe that human hearts are human ; That even in savage bosoms there are longings For the good they comprehend not ; That feeble hands and helpless, Groping blindly in the darkness, Touch God's right hand in that darkness, And are lifted up and strengthened : List to this simple story." — Longfellow. IN THE STORM. ' HEY tell me I am going soon. I know it ; all night long I pant for breath, and cough and cry, and think of all my wrong : And dark wild things before me dance ; I can see an open grave, And I'm sinking— falling lower, and no one near to save. I had a happy childhood, and a pure and quiet home, Where the flowers had a dwelling, and singing birds would come ; And kneeling at my mother's knee, I knew no pain nor fear, And now— God help me— she's in heaven, and / am dy- ing here. in Yes, yes, for such as you there's hope, there's mercy i the heaven. But we, in our dark haunts of shame, no hope to us is given. 12 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. m Oh, often on a Sabbath morn, in the lovely summer time, In my home of sin, I've listened to th' Ascension church bells' chime. And I've longed so earnestly to go those sacred walls within. And yet I dared not venture there in all my life of sin. Must I say the Ten Commandments 1 for they burn like words of fire, , That every time I think of them flame fiercer, hotter, higher. Say, can I call the lost years back, the long dark years of crime 1 Must I sufier on for ever, for the ills I've done in time 1 Oh, talk, or read, or pray ; give me some help, if aid May come to one who, without hope, is walking in the shade. Oh yes, there hangs a dreadful cloud about my aching head. And perhaps before the morning light I may be with the dead. I want one draught of water, cool, from my father's mossy well, And one more look at the old farm house where I was used to dwell. Oace, c^.ce again before you go, tell me of her who came / nd washed with tears the feet of Him who bore for her the shame ; I've heard such blessed woi-ds before, in the days of holier life, A TRUE STORY. 13 Before the light was smothered up with sin, uiid pain, and strife. Yes, I'll try and think of Him who said, ' Thy sins are all forgiven ! ' Many, but all forgiven — alas ! for me there is no heaven. I will try to think of Christ to-night as He hung upon the tree. And for your sake I will try to think that He hung there for me. AFTER THE TEMPEST. Only a few short weeks ago, and I am here, oh strange, That o'er my dark and dying soul has come so blest a change, For it is over now, dear friend, all the darkness and the dread. Last night, 'twas after midnight, as I lay upon my bed, I was thinking of the garden, and poor Mary weeping there. Talking to the Lord of Life, saying, " They've laid Him where ? " And then it seemed His blessed voice spoke to me, called my name, And 1, like Mary, said " Rabboni," and to me He came. Here are dresses rich and costly, and sparkling jewels rare ; Shall I whisper whose hand placed those gems, one even- ing, in my hair ? 14 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Ah ! we are sinners, lady, but we're sinned against as well ; Men keep their rank in social life, while we with outcasts dwell. Bend down, I want to whisper low a name within your ear, I love him yet, God pardon me, let no one this name hear ; I want you to remember it, that when I'm in the grave, If ever this should haunt his soul, you'll tell him I for- gave. Tell my father God will bless him for that letter which he sent, And his erring girl will go the way that her loving mother went. Will you send these curls for me to my little sisters fair, And this trinket to my brother with his dying sister's prayer 1 Oh, I've thought of what you told me, that heaven is quite as nigh This dying bed, as the dear old home where I so wished to die. I am very faint to-day, but if I never see you more You'll know me when you've landed upon the summer shore. The hours are long that I lie here, often alone all night, But gloriously last eve there rose the full moon calm and bright, And one clear ray streamed down, so pure, directly on my face, A TRUE STORY. 16 It seemed the path that I shall go, to meet the Lord of grace. Oh ! sing to me, once more, about the " Rock of Ages " sweet, "Nothing in my hand," that's me, I lie at Jesus' feet. " When I soar " — the moonbeam path — the angels know tl road. Good-bye, we'll meet again some day, before the throne of God. ' 16 WAYSIDE FLOWERS ON LAYING THE CORNER STONE OF THE MASONIC HALL, HAMILTON, JULY 1st, 1873. IGHTY Architect, to Thee Humbly now we make our plea ; Sun and star and boundless space Cannot veil Thy radiant face ; Thine undimmed, All-seeing Eye, Can their every work descry, Who would now, with ancient rite. Build to honour, truth and might. As the walls progressive rise Midway 'twixt the earth and skies, Save from harm, and wound, and fear, All whose handicraft is here : Give the builders skill to hew Every stone and timber true — Let our building, firm and fair. Grow by level, plumb and square. When within the walls complete Moves the tread of Masons' feet, Send Thy Spirit here to brood, Polish every ashlar rude ; Here may plans of love be brought, Here may deeds of love be wrought — Give us, ere our labours cease. Visions of Thy Lodge of Peace. MASONIC HALL, HAMILTON. 17 When the weary traveller turns Where the fire of friendship burns, Wheresoe'er his home may be — Southern sky or northern sea — Fainting with his journey o'er Life's strange tesselated floor, Here, by love's sweet influenoe blest, Give our weary brother rest. When, O Father, pure and good, One of our loved brotherhood, In some dark and trying hour, Yieldeth to temptation's power — When he mourns here, sin's sad blot, (For who lives and sinneth not 1) Draw the poison from his soul — Make our sin-sick brother whole. Holy Father, when we meet Here, to march with mournful feet. Where a sleeping brother lies. With pale hands and fast-closed eyes ; When our future hopes are seen. In the fadeless evergreen, Stand with us beside the bier. Blest Unseen, yet ever near. Give the pilgrims holy light. Guide them through the darkest night ; Give Thy soldiers power to keep Watch and ward until they sleep ; f~ 18 nil Hi WAYSIDE FLO WEBS. Give Thy craftsmen skill to build Arch and tower with beauty filled, And in each emergency, Turn their eyes alone to Thee. And at length when Time's scythe falls Upoii us who rear these walls, May we, through Death's vale of strife, Find the road to endless life ; Here, so learn each mystic sign Here, so work each rule of Thine, That the Angel Wardens may Pass us to Eternal Day. TWIN DAUGHTERS. 19 TWIN DAUGHTERS. A mother's idyl. WENTY-TWO years this very day, My Alice and Rose were born ; Twelve years ago one started away, The other went yestermorn. I'm all alone in my room to-night, Yet it seems but one hour ago That I kissed good night to two pretty babes, In their slumber warm and low. Rose, my darling ! her father's pride, She went with the summer leaves ; But she seems mine still ; I can hear her voice In the breezes about the eaves. One went out from her mother's arms. Amid sob and wailing low ; The other with music of bridal glee And flowers around her brow. One has only the cemetery damp, And dying mosses above ; The other is queen of a stately home, And a manly heart of love. Very grim was the stalwart form Who came for my precious Rose, 20 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. But ho opened the gates of the garden blest, Where the bud of Paradise grows. Alice has gone with her lover true, The light of his home and hall ; So my dear dead child with the golden curls Is nearest to me after all. Some day, Alice, our household pride, Will fold her delicate hands, And as day declines she'll look out afar, To her fair young sister's lands. Yes, Alice will wait the coming of Rose, At the setting of life's sun, But Rose, in God's garden, will never miss The love her sister has won. ^&=u PANTHEA. 21 O^-r PANTHEA. NDED at last the battle, And the mighty victor King Turned to his officers and said, " My friend and brother bring ;" Then, leaping on his war steed, He searched and searched in vain, Till, on the banks of Pactolus, King Cyrus drew his rein. Then solemnly and fearfully He held his softest breath ; He, who had seen his thousands die, Looked tearfully on death ; For the beautiful Panthea sat Upon the river's brim. And in her lap a dead man lay. While thus she spake to him : " Are these the loving, glowing lips that oft to mine were pressed ? Are these still limbs the giant arms that bound me to his breast ? Are these bright eyes for ever closed, that voice for ever still? Do I see the soldiers make his grave upon that sunnv hill? ^ Oh ! Prince ; my Prince, my husband, loved j that these poor hands of mine * ■ p WA YSIDE FLOWERS. m 11 Should have bound this golden helmet around these brows of thine ; That these very fingers trimmed this robe as for a con- queror meet — A conqueror's robe ? a victor's dress 1 my lover's wind- ing sheet. And yet, oh yet, it may be that, far away from here. Where the mighty Oromas-des reigns in his undarken'd sphere, The good like mine, the brave, who fall upon their bur- nished shields May live with him for ever in his Elysian fields. Oh ! strange and unknown God of light — the God of day and love — Receive the soul of this clay corpse into Thine halls above ; Oh ! not for all his goodness, no j nor yet for all his sin ; But, of Thine own immortal love, let this poor wanderer in. »» And the mighty Cyrus left his steed, And, with uncovered brow. Beside the dead he bent the knee — What was his victory now 1 And precious spice, and glittering gems, He laid beside the dead j The lady kissed his royal hand, And, amid tears, she said : "Thanks, generous Cyrus; at this hour, let me plead with thy truth ; Forgive thy friend Araspes for that fiery love of youth ; m PANTHEA. ts Recall thy banished friend ; in him there dwells no cause for shame ; He quelled the passion of his soul, and I was not to blame. Oh ! by the gods that gave this day thy foemen to the breeze, And by this sacred dust that lies so calmly on my knees, Oh, set Araspes' friendship back, as a seal upon thine arm. For never yet, by word or deed, sought he to work me harm. " Heaven send us, mighty Cyrus, that in some far-oflf land We may, beside a river pure, together loving stand ; For in far Babylon I've heard good Belteshazzar speak Of one he called Re-deemer, and a shelter to the weak, For they on whom the fire stayed not, had Him in that bright flame. And Belteshazzar taught my dead to love that mystic name. If this be true, oh noble King, may we in that land dwell ; Kind friend, beloved of my Prince, till we meet there, farewell. " Leave me, my friends, once more alone, only a little while — You've made his grave on yonder hill, where the sweet flowers smile — Look at the odorous burial gifts his royal friend has brought, 24 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. And the glittering ornaments, and rare, his noble vassals wrought. But wrap me in the self-same robe in which the Prince sleeps still, And lay my body in hi^ grave, upon the grassy hill : There's room for two to slumber there — two that in life were one, And it may be two may worship there, on the bosom of the Sun." Then turned away the soldiers. And the lady's faithful nurse ; Their falling tears, their moaning sighs, Told of earth's bitter cuise. Then back they came — the mourner Was sleeping — so they gave The faithful wife, the warrior Prince, One winding-sheet —one grave. •«*ij. LEGEND OF STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL. 25 LEGEND OF STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL. ^UT on the quiet midnight air, Thj thrilling summons swells, As on the eve of loved St. John, Peal out the solemn bells ; A city unawakened lies Beneath the mournful sound, Down street and avenue and lane, A silence reigns profound. But up from vault and mouldering crypt Arise a silent band, Once the true builders of that pile, The guardians of their land ; And silently each takes his pkce ; Masters, well robed, are there — Craftsmen, Apprentices, and each With gavel, compass, square. Then the old Masons meet again, Where once their work was known, Where in sweet music petrified. Stands each well-chiselled stone : With silent presages of lovo Each doth his brother cheer : Time-honoured salutations pass Among Companions dear. WAYSIDE FLOWERS. \ i Then on the weird procession moves, Tlirough the dim lighted nave, Adown the long and columned aisles, Where mystic banners wave. Over the gleaming marble floor, Past the old Knights that keep Their watch and ward with cross and sword, The shadowy Masons sweep. But near the spire, one female form Floats, white-robed, pale and cold. Mallet and chisel, damp with age, Her slender fingers hold. Loved daughter of the Master, she Aided each heavy task ; Beside her father, morn and eve, No respite did she ask. •Bread for the hungry Craftsmen, she Duly prepared and wrought. And words of Faith, and Hope, and Love She to the workmen brought. Thirsting, she cooled their parching lips ; Wearied, she heard their sighs ; Fevered, she fanned their throbbing brows ; Dying, she closed their eyes. Ghost-like and pale, the once strong men Glide over each known spot. And from the memories of the past, Awaken scenes forgot. t LEGEND OF STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL. 27 No mortal being hath caught the sound, Or grasped the palsied hand, Of they who thus fraternally Sweep round each column grand. Thrice round the olden building, then They take their mystic way ; " Happy to meet," they converse hold. Till the first dawn of day. Then down in each sepulchral bed, The Masons take their rest, Till next St. John's loud midnight bell, Stirs through each phantom breast. This is the legend ; but far down A solemn lesson lies For all ^ho would their work should stand Before the Master's eyes : A voice from Heaven strews words of hope Round grave, and vault, and sea, " From labours freed, their works remain ; They did it unto me." 28 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. WINGS. " Then I said, Oh, for wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest." —David. N a lonely rock I lay with dark billows all around me, And the furious tide came dashing up from ocean waves that bound me ; Nearer and nearer drew the storm, and on my cheeks and lips Came the dashing of the salt sea waves ; the sun was in eclipse, Yet, lifting up my eyelids, far away above the shrouds I saw the golden turrets gleam among the ink-black clouds ; " Then I said. Oh, for wings ! " I wiled away the summer morn in the far-oflf forest shade ; There were sweet wild roses in the bush, green moss upon the glade ; The uirds chirped in their happy nests, the brook went purling by, The pine trees met the zephyr's kiss, beneath the cloud- less sky, When all too late, I learnt that poisonous flowers lave Their death-charged roots in the same stieam where purest lilies wave ; Helpless and prone upon the grass my swollen limbs I laid, WINGS. 29 While bird and brook and whispering wind sweet har- mony still made ; " Then I said, Oh, for wings ! " I tarried in a city — here at least I'll find my kin — Here are stately mansions whose wide gates will kindly let me in ; Here are poor and sin-degraded ones whom I can raise to light ; Yes, here I'll find a calm repose, bright day and peaceful night ; But, ah, the dismal wailing voice of misery and woe, The pains, the sins, the broken hearts the sons of Adam know. So, with the wearisome refrain, my very soul was bowed, My heart was filled, like David's, with the scorning of the proud ; " Then I said. Oh, for wings ! " Then I stood within my dwelling — here at least I am secure From the scornful looks of all the proud, from the wail- ings of the poor ; I'll cherish pretty flowers, and I'll feed my gentle doves, I'll make my fence of human strength and feed on hu- man loves ; But, while I spoke, the winter frost nipped up my cher- ished flowers. And I heard the cooing of my doves in very far-off* bowers ; Ah ! they had wings, but I had none, and midnight dark drew on — 30 WA YSTDE FLOWERS. And voice, and step, and folding arms, and sweet love's were kiss (( gone; Then I said, Oh, for wings So broken-hearted as I lay, in the gloom of that dark night, I heard a voice whose tone I knew, and my soul grew all alight ; " Why ask for wings 1 It is for me you suffer — work and wait Only a little while, and you shall pass the mystic gate ; Weave out such robes as angels wear, love is the warp and woof; Work on ; I'll surely come for you beneath this very roof : Only, for me be ready ; that at whatever hour I come you be all prepared for the never-fading bower ; — I promise you the wings." So I try to wait in patience now — I shall have the wings, I know; And covered with fine gold they'll be — the King has told me so ; And though at times upon the rock I still endure the storm, And 'mong the fairest flowers I see the serpent's form, And sometimes, in the cold clear draught, the poison stains the cup ; And often, in the lonely hours, sweet voices say "Come up ;" I tr}"- to weave my daily task until 'tis said to me, " Rise quickly, for the Master comes : He's waiting now for thee, And He has brought you wings." MARCHING SONQ OF THE 13th BATTALION. 31 MARCHING SONG OF THE XHIth BATTALION. ARCH bole ly on, march side by side, stand or fall. With patriot zeal, no room for coward fears ; Together march, we're loyal-hearted all- Hurrah ! hurrah ! Canadian Volunteers. With steady aim and loyal heart, each is there To guard our homes, and shield the loved of years ; And they who doubt may prove it when they dare- Hurrah ! hurrah ! Canadian Volunteers. M a2 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. (Written on receiving the Indian name of " Kejej-a-you," or Prairie Flower.") Y brethren of the forest wild, Why have ye loved the stranger's child ? Why do the hands that bend the bow, Now wreathe, the pale-faced orphan's brow, In your own dense and trackless woods. Beside the gushing torrent floods ? Is there no dark herb nestling there, Whose name the one ye love may bear ? Take back the loveliest of your bower. And call me not the "Prairie Flower." A thousand lovely tints all blend, Where its pure offerings ascend ; The warmest sun, the sweetest dews. Hover to nurse its brilliant hues. The young winds leave their hiding cave. This delicate flower's stems to wave ; Yet smiles it in the dreariest hour. Then call me not the " Prairie Flower." The stranger, worn with changeless scene , Starts to behold its leaf of green ; And stoops to clasp it to his breast, The fairest blossom of the West. Hope's bright rays to his heart are given ; He gains a bolder trust in Heaven ; L. THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. 33 His soul hath won a priceless dower, Then call me not the " Prairie Flower." The Indian driven from his way, Far in the Western wild to stray, Beholds the pale face near his home, Where only should the red man roam. Nought is the same 'neath those strange skies, Save his own flower's smiling eyes ; That beam unchanged by sun or shower. Then call me not the " Prairie Flower." Sons of the ancient Mohawk, wait Till we have passed Death's dreary gate ; Until the tesselated floor By weary pilgrims is passed o'er ; Until we bow before that shrine Where bends thy father. Chief, and mine ; There call'd to life by Christ's own power. Deathless shall rise your " Prairie Flower." When our Solomon shall stand, Giurious among his chosen band. And speak of all the forest trees. That bloomed 'mid Earth's ungenial breeze, There may my Indian brothers wait, Lebanon's cedars tall and straight ; And 'neath your shade in some sweet bower, May you behold your " Prairie Flower." T S4 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. DEATH OF GAUDENTIS. The following inscription was found in the Catacombs by Mr. Fer- ret, upon the tomb of the Architect of the Coliseum : — ** Thus thou keepest thy promise, O Vespasian ! the rewarding with death him, the crown of thy glory in Rome. Do rejoice, O Gauden- tis; the cruel tyrant promised much, but Christ gave thee all, Who prepared thee such a mansion." — Professor J. De Launay'a Lectures on the Catacombs. [5^ EFORE Vespasian's regal throne, Skilful Gaudentis stood ; " Build me," the haughty monarch cried, " A theatre for blood. I know thou'rt skilled in masons' work, Thine is the power to frame Rome's Coliseum, vast and wide, An honour to thy name. " Over seven acres spread thy work, And by the gods of Rome, Thou shalt hereafter by my side Have thy resplendent home. A citizen of Roman rights, Silver and golden store. These shall be thine ; let Christian blood But stain the marble floor." So rose the Amphitheatre, Tower and arch and tier : There dawned a day when martyrs stood. Within that ring of fear. DEATH OF ftAUDENTlS. 35 But strong their quenchless trust in God, And strong their human love, Their eyes of faith, undimmed, were fixed On temples far above. And thousands gazed in brutal joy To watch the Christians die, But one beside Vespasian leaned, With a strange light in his eye. What thoughts welled up within his breast, As on that group he gazed — What gleams of holy light from heaven Upon his dark soul blazed ! Had he by password gained access To the dark catacomb, And learnt the hope of Christ's beloved, Beyond the rack, the tomb ? The proud Vespasian o'er him bends — " My priceless architect, To-day I will announce to all Thy privilege elect ; A free-made citizen of Rome " — Calmly Gaudentis rose, And folding o'er his breast, his arms. Turned to the Saviour's foes ; And in a strength not all his own. With Life and Death in view, The fearless architect exclaimed, " I am a Christian too ! " 36 IVAYSlD/i; FLOWERS. Only a few brief moments passed, And brave Gaudentis lay, Within the amphitheatre, A lifeless mass of clay. Vespasian promised him the rights Of proud Imperial Kome, But Christ with martyrs crowned him Kini, Beneath Heaven's cloudless dome THE CJtOHS ON THE CARPET. 87 THE CROSS ON THE CARPET. ^PPRESSED with the weight of life's cares which ^ around me were pressing, And trying to feel out the right path for my feet in the darkness, With a heart very sad, and a head wildly throbbing and aching, I sat down on the footstool and rested my head in my hands ; The room was all darkened, and something within the still chamber Seemed to the dark misty cloud which lay on my heart to re-echo ; Suddenly, as a fresh thought of sorrow arose on my vision, I raised up my head, and as I sat facing the window. There lay in its silvery beauty a brilliant cross on the carpet, Made by the light shining in through two chinks in the shutters. Which had gracefully swayed to return the salute of the south wind. It was but a gleam of a sunbeam's life-giving glances, At which thousands of eyes might have looked and seen nothing j Nothing but light streaming in through two chinks in the shatters ; But I thought of the mount where the sandalled foot- steps of Moses 38 WAYSIDE FL0WER3. Halted, to see the bright fire flame suddenly up in the branches : And I thought/ of the pillar of light which heralded Israel, Forty long years, day and night, through the wilderness ; And I thought of the sign of our Christian militant war- fare, And I asked myself w^ I fit to wear the Company's armour ; And that silvery cross that lay there beaming so still on the carpet, Seem?d like the delicate fringe on the wing of Hope's angel, Or the flashing of Faith's trusty sword thrown back in the distance ; So I learnt a sweet lesson from that brilliant cross on the carpet, And no more that day found room in my heart for mis- trusting. toam ttip for joy. "—Pilgrim's Progrkss. E have been down to the river ; We all must track ; Of the company of pilgrims, One came not back. The waters were dark and troubled, The storm winds blew. But safely, 'mid shoal and tempest, Our loved passed through. We have been down to the river, And the chilling dash Of the dark drops cling to us yet. With their murky splash ; But the victor knew no trembling — Only flashes of light, From the golden gates reflecting On garments white ; Only the earnest glance of faith, To see if the cross Glittered upon th.^ brows she loved,— All else was dross. Only the burning kiss of love, That the dying give, — The life-long idol of our hearts Began to live. 40 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. We have been down to the river ; When we thought all o'er, The sails weie backed, the ship returned Almost to shore ; And Skill and Love were in waiting, To steady the bark. But from well-wrougnt hands it bounded 'Mid breakers dark. It only returned to tell us Of the city fair. Of the deathless flowers that circle Our lost ones there. It only returned till whirlwind And storm swept past. So with sail full spread to enter In port at last. We have been down to the river, — May God aid us now ; Orphans we stand where the cold earth Hides lip and brow. There came a flashing of glory From the golden sands ; And she passed, our gentle mother, " Father, into Thy hands." LINES. 41 LINES. Respectfully dedicated to the St. George'. Society of Hannlt I HERE stood a gathered band, Beneath a hallowed dome, A band of brother aliens. Far from their native home. They sang the solemn chaunt, They knelt 'fore God to pray, And thus with meet solemnity Ushered their festal day. My brothers, in that church. Swept by no floods of thought, Rushing with force through memory's fields With tender visions fraught : Saw ye no olden spot, On "Morrie England's" shore. Some grassy lawn, some foot worn aisle, Your feet may press no more ? Sons of St. George, lament— Ah ! you are far away, From pealing bells, from daisied fields, Where you were wont to stray ; A rolling ocean sweeps Betwixt your home and you. 42 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Bow low the head, and drop a tear For the old world, in the new. Sons of St. George, look up ! What sounds went passing by, Your native songs are on the air, Your colours kiss the sky ; Have you not taught these woods. And this young city's ways. Our blessed Anglo-Saxon words, Of love, and prayer and praise 1 Have you not taught the West, What Charity imparts 1 Did ye not o'er the Atlantic bring Your generous English Leans ; And bore you not as well O'er river, rock and gorge The holy cross of victory, The banner of St. George 1 Ye sons of England's soil Be watchful in your way • The dragon lurks among us yet. Still greedy of its prey ; Your eyes, with loyal pride. Turn to the blood-red Cross, Oh, turn your eyes of Faith to that. To which all else is dross. THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. 43 Sons of St. George, still guide The stranger and oppressed ; Still ease the widow's mournful lot And give the orphan rest. Strong in a heaven-sent strength, Trample each dragon down, And guard our English travellers. Our Bible, and our Crown. THE BURDEN OF DUMAH. ^f J t *^' '''^^*' Watchman ? " " Clouds in the West Roll, where the moon set Jong hours ago • There are strange mutterings of thunder abroad ' Sighs from the pines, from the sea, tones of woe'- bhudder not pilgrim, for, out of the dark Groweth the blushing and life-giving mom ; Out of the thunder and lightning and rain, tairest creations of Nature are born March in the company, slowly progressing; Keep white your garments, the cross on each breast • Strangers may brand you as 'wanderers ' and ' ghosts ' They see you not plainly, there's clouds in the West " 44 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Cold in the "What of the night, Watchman?" North,— Chilly the winds o'er the toiling ones blow Thousands of strong arms are steadily rearing Jerusalem's walls in the valley below. When, through the darkness, a ray lights the scene — Lamplight and starlight strange sights oft reveal, — Soldiers with trestle boards close by their side, Masons at work under arches of steel. Toil on, brother Craftsmen, build up in the dark, Light from the sun will ere long glimmer forth. Foes will succumb, and your works shall remain, — But to-night, just to-night, it is cold in the North." "What of the night. Watchman?" "Dark in the South, — The birds are all hushed in each still lonely nest, The flowers, thy flowers, are all damp with the dew, Unheeding thy love, on their mother's cold breast ; Weep not, fair questioner, morn shall arise, — Songs robed in tropical plumage shall wake ; The flowers, thy flowers, are safe and at peace, i Till Light in the East o'er the mountains shall break ; Thy flowers are living, — thou seest them not Call hope to thine eyes and smiles to thy mouth. Thy beloved at morn to this garden will come, — But now it is midnight, all dark in the South." " What of the night, Watchman 1 " " Light in the East, But only reflected are these early rays ; EVELY^\H LOVER AT HER DEATHIiED. 45 Be watchful, for dim and uncertain as yet Are forms which shall shine for the Ancient of Days ; Only as trees walking look living men, Things that are grim in the desolate night, Soon shall their beautiful garments put on, While you are working steady for God and the right. Pilgrim, there's rest for thy wearisome pains, Mason and Templar, your toils shall have ceased. Mourner, thy love Immortality wins, Work, Watch and Pray, there is Light in the East." EVELYN'S LOVER AT HER DEATH-BED. " I claim you stiU, delayed it may be, Through climes I shall travel not'a few ; Much to learn and much to forget Ere the time comes for my taking you ; So hush— I give you this leaf to keep, I shut it inside this sweet cold hand, That is our secret, now go to sleep, You'll wake, and remember, and undt^i-stand. " Evelyn Hope. E could not believe that she lay there dead ; That the thought had vanished from that fair brow : I' i 46 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. She had ever met him with many smiles, And ever with gentle words till now. So many years he had watched in vain For one so guileless, so pure and true ; And now in the dawn of his heart's first love, She had glided away like the morning dew. ! i \' " Twice her age," he had often thought. When his fingers twined in her curls of gold. How in the future a widow's weeds, May band them down with its mournful fold. " Twice her age," 'tis no difference now. She will have sorrow and tears no more ; " Twice her age," but that is no matter. Where reck'ning by days and years is o'er. He knew she would waken ; the deathless ray Of immortal life cheered his breaking heart. He knew she'd remember ; for memory's might Lay safe in the hold of her deathless part ; And at her waking would understand Why she left him who was all her own : Ah ! clouds that are dense and ways all dark, Glow in the light of the jasper throne. He felt that life was within him still, That his road branched far from that quiet spot, That many changes awaited him ; Her work was finished, but his was not. EVELYN'S LOVER AT HER DEATHBED. 47 Trouble may drench him with fearful storms, Temptation wild may that strong heart stir, On and on through Life's wilderness, Ere the time comes for his taking her. And so he left her, and turned away With a steady step and a tearless eye ; B!it the ice lay heavily on his heart, And the sun was quenched in his manhood's sky. Ah ! little we know of the cares and woes. The gnawing worm and the secret blight. That hold their revels in human breasts, Deeply hidden from mortal sight. Healer of hearts that are broken and worn, Gather Thy sheep from all dreary ways. Where they have scattered and driven been. Throughout the cloudy and dismal days. ' Fold us, oh fold us, beloved, ere long, Safe in the precincts of that bright land Where others beside sweet Evelyn Hope, Shall " wake, and remember, and understand." 48 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. • SILENT WORSHIP. (On witnessing tho Deaf and Dumb at I'rayer.) IIS Sabbath eve, the hour of prayer, A waiting congregation bow ; They hear no music in the air. They wait no calm responses low, Repressed is every smile and sigh, No words their burning thoughts convey ; The bended knee, the anxious eye, They hear not, speak not, yet they pray. From the dark chambers of each soul. Through the bright eyes strong reason looks- No sound of solemn organ's roll. No hallowed words from well-worn books : Solemn Te Deum, glorious hymn, Kyrie Eleison, humble prayer, To them are mystic shadows dim, But angels listen — God is there. Oh, ear, that boasts thy magic power. Oh, tongue, that prides thyself in speech. Draw near unto this silent prayer, Learn what these worshippers can teach. Needs our Great Teacher ear or tongue, That He may understand our prayer 1 — He who hung speechless stars on high, And makes the silent flowers His care. SILENT Worship. V.) Has He not mystic telegraphs, Reaching from earth to heaven above ? May not these silent builders find, In His calm temple, rest and love ? And each mysterious untold sign, Like Jacob's ladder based on earth, Shall with unutter'd glories shine. And bring down beings of heavenly birth. Oh ! blessed work of charity, To pour into these minds of night The glory of the perfect day. The blessings of the Holy Light ; Oh" ! sweet reward, to stand at last With these around, no longer dumb. And hear amid the Archangel's blast, The Master's welcome, " Faithful, come !" 50 WAYSIDE FLOWEltH. IN THE CORN FIELDS. JTl remember one of the bygone days, Alii Passed in Ohio's sunny fields, And a kind old farmer instructing me In all the blessings the Far West yields ; For, just from England, I never had seen The " seven-acre lot " of green Indian corn, Or the trailing vine of the melon tribe. Covered with dew in the summer mori Seized with a new, strange impulse to write, With a pin I inscribed on the yielding rind Scraps from Hemans, and Thomson, and White, Sweet texts and hymns that arose to my mind. But all to no purpose ; no trace remained. And, wondering, I said to my friend, " How's this ? I can't read one word of all I have written ; There's ' The Lord's Prayer,' and a hymn on this." " Well, never mind, birdie," the old man said, " You must come here again a few weeks hence." Enigmatical comfort it was to me. For the future seemed of slight consequence. Ah ! but the summer flew happily by ; Say, why do such hours come back no more ? Again I was nearing the seven-acre lot, And the old man was counting his honest store. IN THE CORN FIELDS. 61 " I've the very rarest pumpkins and squash, Ready for all Agricultural Shows ; All through the country no melons like mine, Market and fair have no fruit like those." Changed was the scene 'mong the loaded corn, Golden fruit lay scattered around, Each bearing some mystic and strange device. As it lay 'mid its leaves on the thirsty ground. There on a giant pumpkin, flashed out A charge to ae warrior's fearless band ; And there was the promise, " God is love," Seemmgly carved by an elfin hand. Some chanted in chorus, "Thy works praise Thee," And one large melon, all star-like bright, Led the forlorn hope of smaller hosts, Bearing their standard, " Dare to do right." But oh ! how I felt when I saw my work. All o'er the field 'neath that autumn sun ; Tears came welling up fast to my eyes, As I uttered in horror *' What have I done ? " But the workmen smiled, and the old man drew Me gently away from the sun's fierce tide, And under the shadowy maple trees, Seated, he drew me close to his side. " My birdie," said he, " this sweet lesson learn — " And a tear was gathering in his eye — " Warm life is yet in its spring with you. And you've much to do for the Lord on high ; 52 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. And many a word and many a deed May pass unnoticed by human sight, But carve through life as you carved last spring, And in God's great harvest 'twill all read right." Many a year has swept by since then, But often I've checked some word or deed. When I've stopped for a moment to ask myself, " In * God's great harvest ' how will this read "? " Oh ! toiler at work in Life's busy fields. Faithfully learn this lesson in time, That our avery word, and thought, and deed. Shall flash in Eternity's wondrous clime. Often we seem to have toiled in vain, " All night and caught nothing," our weary cry, " Going forth weeping " and scattering seed Under the rays of a burning sky ; But we're Christ's dear children ; we are not slaves ; He giveth us aid if we seek aright ; Let us work with sweet faith, and hope, an«l love. And in " God's great harvest 'twill all read right. THE PRINCE OF WALES AT WASHINGTON'S TOMB. 53 THE PRINCE OF WALES AT THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON, SOUND of music on the air, Not the triumphant sounds That scarce have hushed their martial breath On lake and tented grounds. Who marshals our Prince with tones Like Ocean's moaning surge ? Why moves the proud procession on To that low mournful di-^e 1 Skies for the Prince wore summer dress, Flowers were blooming there ; The warm winds of that Southern clime Lifted his clustering hair. On to the sarcophagus borne. On to the shadows led, And Albert Edward treads with awe The precincts of the dead. Humbly and reverently he stands Amid the sacred gloom ; The young, the high-born Prince of Walca Looked mournful o'er the tomb. What thoughts passed through the gushing heart Of that proud Empire's sou, fr M WAYSIDE FLOWERS. As with uncovered brows he graced The tomb of Washington ? Came o'er his soul a weight of thought That bowed his spirit down ? Seemed they light things in that calm hour, The sceptre and the crown ? Prayed he not then that when the earth Should take him to her trust, A nation's heart should beat for him. As for that honoured dust % And silently the freeborn stood, Watching the honour done The guardian spirit of their shores, By Queen Victoria's son. Silent, but tears were gushing then From eyes unused to weep, As the proudest of two Christian realms Bowed 'fore that peaceful sleep. Pass on, pass on ; the stricken heart Must once again rebound, To festive calls and glowing love, And music's merry sound ; But who will dare to tell the ^irce Of that cementing chain. Forged round the tomb of Washington, To arch the rolling main ? THE PRINCE OF WALES AT WASHINGTON'S TOMB. 55 Illustrious dust ! thy country's strength Is gathered round thy grave, And a watchword is thy glorious name Whene'er their banners wave. Illustrious Prince ! more honoured now, For thou hast taught our lands To bury every jealous feud Deep in the wave-washed sands. And thou hast proved before the world, As only Christians prove, That the Bible has given forth to thee Its holiest password, " Love." O worthy Patriot, that did bear To death, thy mighty trust ; worthy ^ Yinoe, that dared to pay Just homage to such dust. .^^iSr 56 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. VINCENNES. ING to me, Jamie, sing once more," the victor Henry, said, " Sing Bernard's strange, mysterious hymn beside my dying bed. I've fought and conquered now, my friends ; how slowly comes my breath ; Remember you what I foretold when they played * The Dance of Death •? ' Oh, tell me, Bedford, what boots now proud Agincourt's rich gains ? The crown, the ring, the sceptre, pour they life into my veins 1 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! it was my father's cry, King Edward's, holy Louis' — how far from it am I ? " Oh, Jamie, Scotland's captive king, leave me not now, kind heart ; Tell me — I'm dying, Jamie -how have I borne my part ? Forgive me, * Lion of the North,' for we are brothers still, And I'm going there, Jamie, dear, where none speak word of ill. There's neither Scot or English there, nor son of restless France ; The swords are all palms there, Jamie ; they draw no dirk nor lance. VINCENNES. 67 But we — what are we doing here, sin's fearful tide to stem ] Oil, 'Jesu Christe,* take me home to Thy Jerusalem. " The straight way, ah ! the straight way to that better land, and good, It does not lie 'mid gleaming swords and pools of kindred blood. My subjects dear, and comrades true, 'tis a wondrous thing to stand On that strange patch of ground, 'twixt the known and unknown land — To lie, as I am lying now, with the past all full in view, And only one small gleam of light toward the land I'm going to, I might have lived a holier life, kept nearer to the cross — Oh ! ' Agnus Dei,' of Thy love save me from utter loss. " Bedford ! my babe, my little son, whose face I have not seen, Oh, it seems hard that I must go and leave my child and queen ; Look to it, John ; teach England's heir what a Christian knight should know. In the straight way toward Jerusalem set his infant steps to go. Jamie, when you go back again, as in God's time you will, To the lands of bonnie Scotland, king of each vale and hill, D 68 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. You'll not draw sword against my boy, when I am in the dust — You cannot pledge for Scotland, but you'll keep ov/r troth and trust. " Boy, are you there ? * young Malcolm Stuart ? ' and at the name up rose The prince of bonnie Scotland, Gleniskie's pale white rose; * Take warning, boy ; of all the ways, the straight road is the best ; There is a true Jerusalem where victor knights find rest.' " A flood of tears he could not check rolled down the pale Scot's face, And tearfully and solemnly he answered, "By God's grace, Be it through cloister or through camp, I have the tide to stem, I'll meet you, loved King Henry, in far JerusalenL" *' Poor Catherine ! " and at that name the listeners' hearts beat high, And scorn untold curled many a lip, and flashed from many an eye ; For well they knew the selfish being w^ho shared their monarch's throne, And the love that noble king had given to a woman's heart of stone. Why came she not to soothe his pain with gentle word and touch ) VINCBNNES. 69 Why o'er his brow, now growing cold, poured not affec- tion's gush ? He who rejoiced when o'er her head the English banner waved — Oh, God ! whose mercy murderers ask, are selfish women saved ? " Only two hours more to live, the life for which I've striven ; Has each forgiven me all my wrongs, as I hope to be for- given ? One more sweet kiss of peace, Jamie, ah, our love is blest ; Malcolm, goodbye ; the straight path, boy, to the land of peace and rest. God bless you, Bedford— now repeat the Penitential Psalms ; I am not meet to stand with those who claim the victor's palms. I trust in Him who bowed for me His sacred thorn crowned head ; Into Thy hands, God ! "—and King Henry was dead. ...r 60 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. A THREE-FOLD PRAYER. I. "Christian saw a man come up to the one that sat there to write, saying : ' Set down my name, Sir.' "—Pilgrim's PROOREaa. fLOOK, and a wonderful army- Is passing before my gaze — Martyrs, Apostles, Confessors, All bright in the golden blaze ; Some through the cross are victorious, And have laid their armour down ; Some are still deep in the conflict, Struggling for palm and crown. Set down my name as a soldier ; Put the Red Cross on my shield ; Heavenly Adjutant, teach me How I shall war in the field. Into Thy militant regiment, Cross-bearing Leader, receive me, Unto Thy conquoring army, Crown-wearing Captain, receive me. Always and ever Thy soldier. Whether on earth or in heaven ; A THREE FOLD PEA YER. 61 mte, For if I attain to that country, Let it to me be given To win and to work for Thee, Through the mediatorial age, Till thou hast won to Thyself The whole of Thine heritage. II. " Then came to him a hand with some of the leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took and was healed therewith."— Pil- aBiM's Progress. Sick, and wearied, and faint. Lying like one half dead, Strange, weird forms are around me, Wildly throbbeth my head -, I've been in the tempest before. In the blasting, blinding sleet, Yet ever the ground was firm. The Rock was under my feet. But now I can serve no more ; Upheaving seems sand and sward j Holy, loving Physician, Come Thou into my ward ; Thou boldest the death of suffering, And the antidote of strife, Oh ! Hand with the print of nail, Give leaves from the Tree of Life, 62 WA YSIDE FLOWERSA Touch me and I shall be healed, Pour life along every vein, And make me strong for Thyself, So that through mist and rain I can discover the wounded Left after the robbers' strife. And give, through Thy blessed fingers, Leaves from the Tree of Life. III. " My beloved is gone to feed in His garden and to gather lilies. Song op Solomon. Oh ! Heavenly gleaner of flowers. As Thou goest, look upon me ! I am not a sacred palm-branch, I am not a cedar tree, I am not a snowy lily, I am not a blushing rose, But I see in Thy earthly garden That many a brown herb grows. Plant me wherever Thou wilt. So I can hear Thy blest feet When Thou comest to gather lilies, Or nuts, and pomegranates sweet : So I can feel Thy breathing Through leaf, and fibre, and root. And share Thy benedictions, When Thou eatest pleasant fruit. FIRST FUNERAL IN MIDDLE PARK, COLORADO. 63 Fill me with healing power, So that e'en poisonous worms, Feeding on me shall look higher, And develope lovelier forms ; Make me of use as I wither Under autumnal skies. Then, as soon as Thou ploaseth, Transplant me to Paradise. FIRST FUNERAL IN MIDDLE PARK. COLORADO. "It was a fearful thing—a young man stricken with death after a sickness of a few hours. The burial services were conducted by our clerical friend, and the cori>8e wrapped in blankets (for there was no wood for a coffin), and, followed by a few faithful friends, was driven to its last resting-place."— Dcnt-er Times. ^ REAK up the sod, but not for the grain That shall wave in gold 'neath autumn's sun — Break up the sod on the desolate plain, A pilgrim is coming — life's journey is done. No warrior passes with arms reversed. No banners are waving half-mast high, No casket is borne in the sombre hearse. For one who came but to fade and die. 64 WA ymVE FLU WEHS. So soon to sleep, in the blanket's fold, That strange, calm rest that awakes no more, With the fair young face and unwhlLened locks, Meeting the blue of Heaven's star-gilt floor. So young to die in this wilderness place. Where is the home of his boyhood's hours ; And the old churchyard in the green hill-side White with the monuments, bright with vhe flowers % But the holy words of a Christian faith Hallow the air, as that mournful train Lay the lone traveller down to rest. In the virgin soil of that Western plain. His lot to fill the first white man's grave ; Murmurinj. ivinds mourn over the dust ; But we hear not the rustle of angel wings, That hold o'er the relics good ward and trust. No matter ; though waving plumes drooped not, And uncoffined the limbs, all stiff and cold. For the holiest corpse Death shall ever claim Lay wrapped alone in the linen's fold. Leave him, kind hearts, 'tis all you can do j Plant the sods carefully over his breast: Desolate graves are in Heaven's full view. May angels protect him I God give him rest ! MY BIRTHDAY. es MY BIRTHDAY. " How long shall thy journey be ? " ^11, notch in the rock of time, Oh, milestone by life's wayside, Why come I to thee with memories fraught, The records of sun and tide ? My birthday, oh, childhood's hours. Why come ye no more with glee 1 My birthday, what scenes at thy name awake, How long shall my journey be ? I am not weary of living. Though the Spring has swept far past, And the Summer glory has long been sheathed. And the Autumn day goes fast. I know it will soon be night, And darkness will take the sky, But I am not afraid of the darkness. For at midnight comes the cry. I am not weary of living. For precious blossoms of love Hang round me in drooping clusters, Tinted from Heaven above; And there's work enough to do In the fields and forests free, 66 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Yet the tired gleaner sometimes asks, " How long shall the journey be 1 " Looking back, I mark the shades Of many a farewell scene, And 'mid the landscape gleam dark spots Whereon the frost has been ; But there's many a green oasis, Where the Lord of Glory passed. And breathed in the fainting pilgrim's ear, " Ail will be right at last." Not only the milestone white Meets the traveller as he goes, Oft by the wayside a sad sign tells Of agony ard woes. Guide posts they stand, that pilgrims May go the way He went, Who hung for them on that mystic sign Of pain and conquest blent. On looking forward, I see The Pun gilds each mystic guide. Till one stands close by a cold dark stream. But I see none the oiher side. I know that no crosses there Will oppress my darlings free, The crown and the love is reserved for them- " How long shall my journey be? " MY BIRTHDAY. m Of that land we've much to learn, For the soldiers onward march, Under close sealed orders, until they reach The shade of the Golden Arch. But if earthly love has been Like stars in the sky to me. What shall the dawn of the rising day In that home of rapture be 1 Give patience, oh heavenly King, Until the last milestone's come. For I reckon, upon life's dial plate. That I must be half way home. Into those hands, O Christ, That were pierced and nailed for me, I yield my all — need I ask in fear, " How long shall my journey be f " ■^^. ■^. "^ 68 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. THE HEALER. " As many as touched Him were made whole." OT to Him, Rizpah ; I cannot go to Him, So pure, so good and holy : I need no more reproaches on me thrown, For all my deeds unholy. "Not to Him, Rizpah ; for what knoweth He Of all these racking pains 1 And can He sacrifice for deeds of sin, Ihe soul's far deeper stains ? " He would but tell me that upon thee I never more may look — He'd hurl me from Him as I hurl this stone Down in the rushing brook. " He would but ask me why I keep thee here, Rizpah, my dark-eyed dove ; He knows not that a sinner such as I Can learn fair things to love. " He'd point to this dark mark upon my wrist, That burns like Cain's strange brand ; *Tis where the Romua fetter galled the flesh Of this all-conquering hand. THE HEALER. 69 "Has midnight aught to do with noonday sun ? Or winter with the spring ? And have I aught to do with Him you call Judea's rightful king ? " Not to Him, Rizpah ; though thy lover lies Dying with fever's blight : No, let the lamp of life burn dimly down Into the darkest night." "Asaph, thou wilt worship Him, Ere the evening groweth dim : Not a common Healer, He, As thy gladdened eyes shall see ; Soon beneath the sunset sky, Jesus will pass calmly by. " I have heard Him, and no scorn On His holy lips was borne, Only told me all the sin, Told me how to enter in Through the wide and unbarred gates, Where the God of mercy waits. "By the well of Sychar, He Sat and drank and talked with me, Quenched the fires of Jewish strife With the streams of deathless life. Look upon me, Asaph ; I, Loving Him, shall never die. 70 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. "What to Him are strifes of tongues ? Healer of all human wrongs ; What to Him are rights of lands, Foul disease, or felon brands ? Trust Him— He can read thy soul ; Touch Him— He will make thee whole. " Hark ! He comes ; unto Him turn, And thy new-made soul shall learn, Out of midnight groweth morn, Out of winter spring is born. And from Him to such as we, Cometh immortality." I •11 ll i A STORY OF THE PAST. E] AIR mourner, whence that troubled sigh ? ^1^ Clouds gather round thy little bark ; Yet courage ! One above thee rules. He is thy light through all the dark. Sit down beside me, I will tell A tale of sorrowing times long fled— A story not of earth's gay flowers, A tale of watching by the dead. I A STORY OF THE PAST. n I loved. I was St. Aubyn's choice, But envy wove a deep-laid snare — St. Aubyn chose another love, And sought a country far and fair. A warrior by me prayed, and knelt, The bugle called him from my side, With muttered oath upon his lips That none but I should be his bride. And time rolled on ; the strife was o'er, The warrior's bark was on the tide, And the victorious ship of war Brought home St. Aubyn and his bride. How many hours I wept and prayed In agony, that I might die Unseen, unheard by all save One, Who keeps the record-rolls on high. How often in this changeful life, The evil dreaded never comes ; He did return one summer night With arms reversed, and muffled drums. The storm had risen on the deep. The minute-gun had vainly pealed ; The ship had struck upon a rock, And Death a hundred victims sealed. They bore the lifeless officer From the engulphing waves of strife, And following, in the strangers' arms They brought St. Aubyn's haughty wife. 72 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. t r We watched that night beside the dead, St. Aubyn by his jewelled bride, And I gazed wildly on that form, With sword and helmet by his side. And midnight wearily stole on. Heavy clouds o'er the young moon swept We looked out upon life, and prayed ; We looked upon the dead, and wept. That God can work while man looks on, That Truth will triumph o'er our dread — A lesson sometimes hard to learn, We learnt, while watching by the dead. 'Twas not a scene that lovers choose ; Did any say that we had loved 1 The dead were by us, yet we knew That we were living and beloved. Truth's talisman was on each heart. Oh ! was there sin in what we said. The troubles told, the truths confessed. That night we watched beside the dead ? Ah ! three-score years have passed since then ; St. Aubyn in his grave lies low, And I, the idol of his heart. Am calmly waiting till I go. My eyes are dim ; from memory's page Full many a thrilling scene has fled, But pure, undimmed, shines forth the night, That night we watched beside the dead. THE EVENING MESSAGE. 73 THE EVENING MESSAGE. " Leontius Patricius, Bishop of Cyprus, waa one day unreason- ably angry with John, the Patriarch of Alexandria. At even the lat- ter sent a servant with this message : ' Brother, the sun has set.' Reconciliation followed. " — The Craftainan. ^VER earth the eve's dark mantle ih coming slowly on ; Foot of labourer, sound of hammer, With the bright day are gone. Soon the first pale star of evening Shall with its friend have met ; My friend, the day is dying slowly — Brother, the sun has set." (( Held I not the lamp of warning Amid the tempest's wrath ? Sought I not, in love fraternal. To guide thee in thy path ? Ah ! companion, for thee yearning, Mine eyes with tears are wet ; I am weary for thee watching — " Brother, the sun has set." If I have erred unconsciously, Forgive me, oh forgive ! By the Lodge where we assemble, The life we're sworn to live ; ^^ 74 "^ : \ WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Where the tyler guards the portal, Have we not often met % We are bound by bonds mysterious — " Brother, the sun has set." By the God who dwells above us, Draw out the rankling thorn ; By the Christ who came to love us, Arise in peace next morn ! Let not darkness stamp its signet On our spirits yet ; Light within our soul prevaileth — "Brother, the sun has set." Soon the solemn hour is coming, When shield and sword must fall, And we, dying in the battle. Must meet the Lord of all. Let us live that o'er our memory Falls no dark regret ; Let us live as Christ's dear children — " Brother, the sun has set." And in years long yet to number. It may be, some stray soul Shall hear of this our charity, And he may senr* a scroll To some companion grown estranged, That scroll with Love's tears wet ; And the mysterious words shall be— "Brother, the sun has set." i TO MINNIE. 7« \ .■- TO MINNIE. E have been friends for many years, Though changes we have seen ; A stream unfettered by the frost, Our friendship's course has been. And time has kindly dealt with thee ; Lightly o'er thee it floats ; Thy voice is full of melody, Like a bird's happy notes. When first I knew thee, Minnie dear, Childhood was on thy brow ; Fond parents round us kept love's guard- Where are those parents now % We've laid them each in quiet rest. Low in the mould'ring sod, Knowing their sainted spirits dv/ell Before the throne of God. And now I see thee, Minnie fair, Sheltered in love's strong arms A heart that yearns to keep thee safe From the world's wild alarms. And love has set its signet blest Upon thy gentle soul ; Pray God the union may remain Long ere Death's billows roll ; 76 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. And clust'ring round thy fireside Are plants and blooming flowers— Thy sons to grow to brave, true men. Oh ! in the coming hours, May He who knows each human woe, Guide them through every strife, And bring them, more than coiu^uerors, To Him, the Light and Life. And <^hose fair girls — must their young feet licad life's rough desert path / " Make idols, and then find them 'lay," Must they meet storm-clouas' wrath ? God bless them ! woman's lot is theirs : May One of woman born Aid them in every drearv hour, Shield them from snare and thorn ! May life pass happily with thee ! May it be thine to view Thy darlings all thy heart would wish. Loved, loving, good and true ! And when thy pilgrimage is d me, May it be thine to greet Each loved one in that land of rest. Where severed households meet ! ROCKBA Y rt ROCKBAY, THE RBSIDENCE OP P. CAROLL, ESQUIRE. OT Upon a Southern plain, Nor 'mid rayi Lie bowers of Spain ; Where Ontario's waters rise, Underneath Canadian skies — Where the Indian's arrow sped, There thou rear'at thy lofty head ; Where the Indian's cabin lay, There thou risest, sweet Rockbay. Through the f< rest arch of green Are thy towerincr pillars seen ; Sunbeams glitter on the leaves, Rustling round thy turret eaves, With the waters at thy feet . Rippling into numbers sweet ; 'Mid their glad and joyous spray, There thou smilest, calm Rockbay. Sweet sounds from thee float afar — Music, song, and light guitar, Dashings of the bf .atman's oar. Breezes whisp'ring on the shore, Leaves that rustle through the night ; While amid the moon's soft light. Glittering in the star-beam's ray, There thou sleepest, calm Rockbay. 78 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. ;i Foliage of a the isand shades Quivers on thy mossy glades — Flowers of soft hues are seen Gleaming through thy vistas green Roses, flakes of crimson snow, Strew the verdant moss below j Water lilies lift their heads From their deep and sinuous beds. And yet, thou hast dearer things Than the rose or birdling's wings — Precious things that must abide When thy youngest flower hast died ; Underneath thy shadows fair, Human forms are dwelling there — Noble hearts that kindly beat In their calm Rockbay retreat. Dove of Peace ! unfold thy wings — Shelter from all harsher things ; Spell of beauty ! hover still Over forest, bay and hill ; Spirit of undying Love ! Breathe thy incense from above, Till the dawn of deathless day Is exchanged for sweet Rockbay. THE SOLDIER OF AUVERGNE. f» THE SOLDIER OF AUVERGNE. ;WAS midnight, and the soldier took His lone and quiet march ; The moon's bright rays fell gloriously Upon the forest arch — And through that forest's dreary gloom, Full twenty leagues away, The army of the enemy Waited the dawn of day. The watcher listened, for he heard The wild wolfs dismal howl : A crashing of the underbrush Betrayed his wary prowl ; Yet where the branches thickest weave. The soldier took his way ; He started— for a band of foes Had seized him for their prey. He was a captive— one strong hand Upon his lips did lie, While in hoarse whispers rung their words, "Betray us, and you die." Warm love was nestling in his heart. Warm life was in his veins ; One dream of love, of life, of home. One dream of captive chains. 80 W4 YSIDK FLOWERS. 'Twas but a moment, and he thought Of those who slept around, Safe and secure, while he kept watch Upon the sentry ground. . ; 'Twas but a moment, and a flush Passed o'er his cheek and brow ; His voice rang on the midnight air, " Auvergne ! Auvergne ! the foe ! " The swords that in the moonlight shone Upon his bosom rushed, And froiii the dauntless soldier's heart Life's streai/ilets quickly gushed. Yet ere his beaming eye was closed, Ho saw his brethren's lance, Trampling down bush and brake, he heard The cavalry of France. He folt strong arms around him placed ; He saw their princely train ; A nation's thanks were in his ears — He had not died in vain. They laid him, while the host pursued The fast retreating foe, Beneath that glorious flag for which He laid himself so low. ! may it be that when, if e'er, So dire a fate we claim, A LATE VISITOR. 81 And through our country loud resounds War's fearful, shuddering name — Then may our hearths and households yield, Then may our foemen learn, FTe have such hearts as sleep beneath The banner of Auvergne. A LATE VISITOR. NE night of late, when the wild storm was ragin^ 4^ The city bells liad tolhu their last night chime^ I, reading by the glow of ooal and light of lamp, Heard, 'mid the voices of that stormy time, . A low, faint knocking. I looked not for a '' raven lightly tapping," But at my door there stood a living child ; An " Arab Knight " looked straight into my eyes, But muttered only through the tempest wild, ** I am 50 hungry." > And when he left, with brightened eyes, and hope Glowing anew through his young, half-starved frame, 'Twas then I asked myself what should I learn From that weird child uttering one faint claim, "I am so hungry." . "^ 82 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Oh ! Saviour, v^earing in our Father's house Eternal glory on a human brow, Let me unto Thee come, like that poor child. For Thou wilt hear the knocking faint and low, And " I am hungry." All in the coldness of a wicked world, All in the darkness of a heart of sin, I've been all day where crime and death are found- I know there'r plenty Thy full house within — "I am so hungry." Thou'lt hear me, for " my '^ither was a Syrian Ready to perish" at Thy mercy's door ; Thou who didst 1)^'!S3 the father, bless the child, Guide me to him, across life's chequered floor, " I am so hungry." Thou hast blest Wisdom for the skilless hand, Thou hast strong arms for the unsheltered form. And purity to give for stains of sin, And love, warm love, for the unpi tying storm >. " I am so hungry." Oh, Heavenly Fatheyj! I must often come, And take Tliy blessing and go forth again A pilgrim on the weary march of life, Pleading amid the winter storm and rain That I am hungry. j -.'■^r'. '-i RECOLLECTIONS. 83 Oh, let no fear, no barriers intervene ! Between my starving soul and Thy full board ; But more than all, prepare me for the feast, The marriage supper of Thy Son, my Lord, Where none are hungry. RECOLLECTIONS ON THE ANNIVERSARY OP LEAVING ENGLAND. I HE years roll on, the years roll on ; Back, Memory ! call up an eve long fled, When on the ship that was " outward bound," Sad sighs were heaved and sad tears were shed ; As, bounding high o'er the swelling waves, The good ship's throngers turned to see One lingering gleam of old England's shores, Of her daisied fields and her streamlets free. The years roll on, the years roll on, But fond recollections each tone recalls. Of loving parents whose words, 'mid tears, ' Were trustingly spoken in wooden walls ; How, gathering closely their little ones. They whispered of Him who rules the wave, "fl : ! Si Hi 84 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. And the sweet " Fear not " of the Nazarene, That lights life's ocean, gilds life's dark grave. The years roll on, and the forms we love Are borne away by a stronger than we, And Time writes lines of sorrow and care On brow and spirit once bright and free ; And he lays with the flowers of summers past, The hopes and ambitions that soared high ; But he cannot reach to deface or rust The coins that are current beyond the sky. The years roll on — the morning and night, Starlight and sunshine, summer and cold, And hearts that were young on that deck that eve Are very wearied and growing old ; While some, in their calm Canadian graves, Have reached the river — the other side. And the anchor chain of undying love, From the crystal sea, reaches earth's rough tide. The years roll on, while decay and change They bring, in their steadily noiseless gloom ; But the precious links of Hope, Faith and Love Are uninjured and safe, in the soul's fresh bloom. The years roll by, but with all they claim. They fail to stamp with Time's sure decay The title deeds that poor, weak hands hold, To the ** City of God," which lies far away. FLOV ERS FOR PRINCE ALBERTS COFFIN. 85 The years roll on, the years roll on ; Well robed in Love, we will try to wait, For the weary feet and the fainting heart Are '' merchants' goods " at the Golden Gate ; We are sailing still, and a stormy sea Betwixt us lies and " Immanuel's Ground ; " But every billow leaves one the less, And " The Covenant transport" is " homeward bound." FLOWERS FO"l PRINCE ALBERT'S COFFIN HEY placed them on his coffin, 'Mid the sombre velvet's gloss. The pure camelia's snowy leaves. Sweet violets and green moss ; Upon the quiet limbs, The glowing martial dress ; Upon the pulseless, loving heart, The glittering crowns they press. Innocent children wove Emblems of faith and hope, To mingle with the airs of death, Down in the vault's dim slope. 86 ' WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Flowers his hands had trained, For his fair girls to wave, Now lie, like him, shut out from light. Asking, alone, a grave. Any proud king may sleep With guards to watch his rest. With martial glory, starry crown. Above his quiet breast ; Velvet and silver gilt v"' a false hf^art may lie. With arms reversed, and muffled drums, And banners half-mast high. But 'tis left for England's Prince To bear upon his bier Signs of the resurrection morn, Dewed by affection's tear. Yes, woman's deathless love Gives life to that dark scene ; They're fading on Prince Albert's bier, Wreathed by his widowed Queen. And was this all they twined 1 Answer, ye British hearts, That ever in the hour of need Have nobly borne your parts ! With tendril, leaf and flower, Those gentle fingers wove Their glorious nation's sympathies, Their nation's quenchless love. k FLOWERS FOR PRINCE ALBERTS COFFIN. 87 You love the form that stands At your mighty kingdom's head— You love the youthful Royal band, You've loved the Royal dead ; Deeper and sadder ties Ask you to guard, to pray — From the widow and the fatherless, You will not turn away. Heraldic emblems, mould ! Tarnish, ye silver plates ! Decay, come down on velvet pile I Rust on the iron gates ! We've hopes to spring to life When these sweet buds are brown ; We shall behold, in glory set, Prince Albert's starry crown. Rise from the dust, sad hearts ; Over your head floats high. The Holy Lion of Palestine, Still pointing to the sky ; From whence the Conqueror comes, Death at His chariot wheels, For Judah's Lion hath prevailed. To loose the binding seaU, I i 88 waysijje flowers. THE OFFICER'S FAREWELL. " A gallant officer, having pledged his aifectionto his earliest and only love, left Scotland for the scenes of war. By a well-concerted plan he received newH of the death of his affianced bride, and previous to his return home he was induced to marry the sister of his com- manding officer. On his return home he discovered the plot to ruin his happiness ; he sought one interview with the idol of his heart, and soon after his return to India fell in battle. " — Records op the Fallen. [HE moonbeam fell upon the glen and 'neath the trysting tree — There were bright eyes flashing fire — there were teardrops falling free ; At length, as the young moon rose up, the solemn silence broke, And, like music on the quiet air, the gentle maiden spoke : " Thou art come to say a long farewell — a cloud is on thy brow — There was hope within our last adieu that is not in it now ', But, oh ! may blessings round thee pour ; peace nestle at thy side ; Hush ! breathe no words of tenderness — you have another bride. " 'Tis hard to feel an iron hand keeping th-a fond heart down — Hard for the lion to crouch still, for a title and a crown — 11, THE OFFICERS FAREWELL. 88 arliest and l-concerted id previous I his com- ilot to ruin I heart, and IE Fallen. leath the lere were in silence sn spoke : is on thy not in it nestle at e another •nd heart crown — M But, Alick, bear up manfully, and leave to heaven the rest; The Ked Cross flutters round thy head — let it nestle on thy breast. The storm has beat around my head ; I bowed before the blast, And a calm and holy quietude h; settled there at last ; Though I know another jewelled hand is clasped between these twain, And another head is pillowed here, where mine so oft has lain. " Deal gently with your titled bride — her spirit cannot soar To heights your eagle pinions beat; the sound of ocean's roar. The music of the young fresh winds among the groves of pine, Hath to her ear no melody, e'en as it hath to thine ; There's a dreamy languor in her eyes of pure and gentle hue, But there gleams no light of depths of love behind the veil of blue ; But oh ! dear Alick, for the sake of the one now by your side. Avenge not wrongs she could not aid, upon your youth- ful bride. " Our paths are varied now, Alick — we will not meet again — 90 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. The noble yhip unfurls \n'r sails to waft you o'er the main ; ' I'll stay beneath yon cottage roof — you'll dare the siroc blast — Our paths are varied now, Alick, but they end in one at last. • • There's mercy in the kn* 'wledge that rich blessings for us wait — ■■'. - ;. ■*'■; That broken hearts are current coins at the eternal gate ; Oh ! let us linger patiently, battling the hosts of sin, Knowing that One we both adore will gladly let us in. " But let us make one promise more, beneath this rising moon, That whichsoe'er is earliest called to that unclouded no6n, When its kindred bark shall anchor fast upon the golden sand, Shall be the first to greet it home into the spirit land. Your arm has still its iron grasp — there's a fire in your eye— And your soldiers do not look on you as one that's like to die ; But I should not wonder, Alick, if you're first to slum- ber low. For cannon-blast and sabre-point are heedless where they *• Hark, Alick ! for the bugle's roll is on the evening air, And hearts of Scotland's richest blood are waiting for you there ; It I LOVE'S REQUITAL. n Breathe peace aiKJ pardon for your foes ; farewell ! no more we'll meet, Until the evei lastintr hills our tearful eyes shall greet." And midnight came s it ha«l come a thousand times be- fore, Anl the shadows of the trysting tree wore lit with splendour o'er ; And brightly in the morning ligb*^ the grass slione green and new, Though broken hearts had pressed it, and tear-drops were its dew. LOVE'S REQUITAL. •* Sympathy is lacking from the guilty, such as we, even where angels minister. It is a holy thing to thirst fov love's requital. "- TuppEB's Philosophy. WHO knows his brother's woe ? Who shall go down to the heart's hidden depths, And slake the fevered souls with streams of love ; Who quench the fierce volcanic fires that burn, Hidden from human eyes, but One above Their thirst can know ? 4.^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT.3) fe '^o /. •^%'''^. ^-A y. 1.0 I.I HA B2.8 ■ 30 ^^" U lii 2.5 2.2 us U LS i2.0 6" L2S i u 116 Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) S72-4503 ■^v ■^^ yd *^ ^ ^ %' 1 ^ is V m- !" nl 92 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. What mortal but hath known, The pang of parting with some fondly loved, Their kiss and clasp and sweet words ever gone ; We telegraph in vain, no answer comes, We thirst for love's requital from the dead — The fount is stone. Blessed are they who bear Through this dark wilderness the flags of Love. I bless Thee, my God, that around me The blessed banner hath been always flung. Though some who hold the cords are safe with Thee Till I come there. The living, loved and sweet, Are they not with me, near, and dear, and true ? Does not sweet Friendship head a trusty band, Friends who have stood by me in stormy hours. Hospitable doors opened by generous hands For my poor feet ? I bless Thee, that the love Of innocent children hath been always mine ; They've been like flowers in the path I trace. And sweetly solemn is the thought that some Have looked their last of earth upon my face, Then gone above. Oh ! Saviour, in the hour When Thy parched lips were murmuiing " I thirst," LOVE'S REQUITAL. 93 It was not only for the fountain's flow- That Thou didst crave ; for oh ! didst not Thou bear All the deep thirst for Love Thy loved can know, While sin has power ? Oh ! Father, if the sun Finds me some morning on the earth alone, Unloved by any human liviiig being, Loving no mortal woman, man, or child, Let me die then, God the All-Seeins,— Call my work done. Send me upon the wave, And «mid shipwreck I will seek for life, Amid the waste of waters I will find a dove. Amid malignant airs I'll breathe anew ; But when I cease to be loved and to love. Give me my grave. Why should these doubts enthral ? For Thou hast loved me ; so i may lean back On Thy immutability, by strong arms nurs'd ; I'll take my cross, go singing on my way. Knowing that I shall never die of thirst For love's requital. ^^^m^mmmmmm mmmmmmm 94 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. KING EDWIN AND THE THANE. r I (< << A TALK OP THE OLDEN TIME. HEY met upon the Yorkshire hills, r). King Edwin of the North, His chiefs, his nobles, serfs and thanes, From Tyne, and Esk, and Forth ; Ah, not to fight ray warriors," Spake out the fair-haired king ; Put down the sharpened battle-axe, Loosen the crossbow's string. " A stranger from the sunny south, . With a cross upon his breast, Is come to tell us of his God, And of strange countries blest ; My trusty followers, shall we hear The words he hath to say 1 Speak out, for I have summoned him To wait on us to-day." The pagan priests looked frowningly, And loudly answered, " No," And through the king's upheaving breast. Wild thoughts swayed to and fro, When suddenly amongst the host, A chief rose on the plain ; " Now, hush ye all," spake out the king, ** And list my trusty thane." KING EDWIN AND THE THANU. 95 " Oh king, most wise and well-beloved, we are not here in vain, It may be that the hand is near, to loose the galling chain Remember you, oh king ! how oft, when winter's blast blew high, And heavy storms and darkness swept across the evening sky; When we were feasting merrily within thy banquet hall, And the fires were flashing brightly upon the oaken wall ; A little fluttering bird flew in, and basking in the light, Hovered above thy princely head, then vanished in the night ] We know not whence the flutterer came, we know not whence it went, Now pause, oh king ! have we not those out into dark- ness sent ? The iron arms that with our own waved battle-axe and sword. The crimson lips that smiled on us around the hearth and board ; The grey hairs that, with pibroch strain, we chieftains have laid low, The cherub Prince who left our king but one short month ago. Where are they gone ? Edwin the good, our noble leader brave, 'Tis said this dark-eyed stranger knows of One who died to save ; Of One who opened gates of gold, for victors brave and f»ir, 96 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Who owns a country far and blest, and takes our lost ones there. Edwin the good, at thy command, beside the dusty way, The sparkling fountains have sprung up to give their cooling spray To weary foot-worn traveller, to steed with flank of foam, Edwin the beautiful ! unlock the founts of life and home." And the king arose in majesty, Beckoning the stranger on. And hour after hour passed by, The light of day was gone ; But king and people bowed them low. Before the Name unpriced. Then rose to cast their altars down. And live and die for Christ. ON THE DEATH OF REV. DR. E. NEVILLE. 97 0^1 THE DEATH OF REV. DR. E. NEVILLE. The writer of the foUowing Unes, wHle desiring to accede to the wishes of the friends of the depari;ed Kev. E. NeviUe, cannot but feel her inability to add lustre to that which is ah-eady bright, " What can he do that cometh after the King ? " The authoress has therefore laid before the public the nature of the last conversation she was per- mitted to hold with the departed servant of Christ. YING, my child, I'm dying, > I shall be home ere long ; Tears and darkness and mortal pain, But soon the victor's sonir • And I've something, frier d, to tell you, But slowly comes my breath, And the tide is surging round my heart — The drowning tide of Death. " We can number it in years, Since we stood side by side, And one you loved was crossing then This same dark rolling tide. The storm that drenched her saintly form Is damp upon my brow ; But her feet were firm upon the Rock, Where mine are standing now. " When I'm sleeping still, my child It may be they will say, f. -j^i-^Hk-iii^ '.ttH^i^'ii:^ 98 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. ' Oh ! speak of our friend and brother, That slumbers with the clay.' And now I charge you, dear, dear friend, That, when my spirit's fled, You will give the world this message. As a message from the dead : " That I told you, when I stood Viewing the glorious sheen Of the Golden City of our God, With the river bright between. That I know of no other trust Than the One Great Name unpriced ; I throw myself, a sinner saved. Into the arms of Christ. " Oh ! it's little I have done. As my pilgrimage I've trod ; I've been but a poor weak soldier In the service of my God. Yes, the Cross is on my standard, child ; A conqueror you say ; Ah ! we shall be something more than that At no far distant day. " Thank God for all His mercies — For the converse we have had Of the bright and new Jerusalem, And the things which make us glad ; THE MAGDALENE. 99 And not the least of His blessings vast Are the faithful hearts and true, That will watch beside my bed of pain Till I've passed the river through. " I'm only go'ng home first, To rest for a little there ; I shall see the friends that you have lost, For the City lies four square. At twelve wide gates the Wardens bright ■ Are watching night and day. Good-bye, my child, we'll meet no more Till we are e'en as they." THE MAGDALENE. " Whoso Cometh unto Me hath life." E goes to Olivet to watch to-night. Alone, and weary and dejected. Oh ! dare I follow up the path He goes, What if I be rejected ? If I should be rejected ! I who have brought The Captains of the Eagles kneeling I who have felt the haughty Herod's arm Around me fondly stealing. 100 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. If I should be rejected ! I who have danced Among these marble halls and fountains — I who have walked with tetrarch and with priest, These olive groves and mountains : I who have gazed on stern and passionate men, Nor felt one rushing pulse beat higher, Feel when I look on Him, as if I gazed On the sun's mid-day fire. He looks upon me with those searching eyes, As if He were my elder brother ; Yet wins me to His gentle sermons sweet, As if He were my mother. He says that He must suffer ; who are His foes ] I've walked 'mid pestilence unharmed, And from the beautiful brows of those I love, I have the fever charmed. When that dark-bearded Roman officer, Like a caged eagle, lay in prison, One word from me at day dawn he went forth, Like the free sun just risen. But this poor Nazarene — it seems I can do nought For Him, but weep and hear Him tellinp Of purity, and peace, and deathless love, In His own Father's dwelling. ii THE MAODALENE. 101 I've heard debates of Scribe and Pharisee, And dared to answer them with scorning ; I've talked with Roman Guardsmen by the hour, Of Israel's victor morning. But this man, if He only whispered " Mary," I could say nothing but " Rabboni ; " Oh ! dare I follow up the path He treads. So lonely, rough, and stony. He goes to Olivet to watch to-night, Alone, and weary, and dejected ; I'll follow Him, and say, "Jesus, have mercy,"— What if I be rejected ? 102 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. THE EMIGRANT BIRD. HY art thou leaving us, Beautiful one 1 Why, like a captive, Haste to be gone 1 Thou hast known no chain ; But thy feathered wing Hath ever been free As the breath of spring." " I am one that is bound for the southern sea ; Over the waters my home must oe ; I've a lay prepared for another land, And a song to sing on the golden sand. I'm away to the rush of Marmora's founts ; I've a home on the steep of Plamina's mounts ; I go to be saved from the blasting air, I shall rest secure in the branches there ; When the cold winds of winter are chill and lone. If you love me well, you'll be glad I'm gone." " But knowest thou not There are waves and foam, Thou wilt have to brave Ere thou seest thy home 1 I taught thee to fly In the sunbeam's track : THE EMIGRANT BIRD. io;i I have loved thee well — Songster, come back. " " Lady, I dread not the curling deep, A love that is strong'.>r than thine doth keep ; A hand that is firmer tlian thine doth mark My path,7ay wide 'mid the waters dark ; And shall guide me safe where the mountain flowerS; Their incense breathe from the leafy bowers ; I go, to come back when tha star-flower waves. When the grass is green on your household graves ; When the bursting fountains rush to the shore- In yon lovely grove we'll meet once more. " If ye have loved ores who sigh like me. To burst life's rough uimin, to soar and be free ; If their hearts have been chilled by the breakers dread, And the hopes they've cherished are crushed and dead,- Hinder them not, the t .mpest is high ; Call them not back, they've a fairer sky ; Like me, they will brave each billowy crest- Like me, they'll inherit a lovelier rest — Like me, they go to escape the blast — Like me, they'll come back to your heart at last." ^r^&>- 104 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. CHRISTMAS SONNET. I HE glory floated off, the beautiful, the grand, Again the waves of Heaven's blue curtain slept, Again Judea's stars peeped from its folds' bright band, When the pinions of the heaven-decked host had swept Back into Heaven. ¥/hat breathings had been heard 'Mid the moon's brightness, on the rock at rest. No mortal ear e'er listened to those words With which the circlers of the Throno had blest The mountain watchers. They told a Son was given ; They marked his couch ; — shepherds ^ ard Angels say The Child slept not 'mid shades of vt. 3t riven ; Not in a terraced mansion, lit with ruby's ray ; No crimson pall of Egypt's art was spread, But the rude manger was his cradle bed. NINA IN THE DUNGEON OF RIENZI. 105 NINA IN THE DUNGEON OF RIENZI. TRAMPLING in the prison halls, Of guardsmen on the floor ; The page is hurried to the cell ; They close the captive's door. Back flew the mantle from the breast, The nodding plumes fell low — The dark plumes that so well concealed That woman's throbbing brow. The prisoner gazed in wondering doubt Upon his midnight guest; What did the glancing of those eyes Stir in the captive's breast \ The lips that in the judgment hall Seemed turned to molten stone, Burst in one paean of fervency— " Nina ! my loved, my own." « Rienzi ! is it thus we meet, within a dungeon lone ? Have they dared to cage Rome's eagle down unto a pri- son stone? ^ Look up, beloved ; a word of hope thy Nina brings to thee ; To-morrow's sun will soon arise— Rienzi will be free ' Oh, Cola^ thou art deadly pale, thy puke is fierce and wild, o 106 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Thy brow is deeply furrowed, and thy sunny smile exiled ; But in thine eye's bright glance I read thy country's cause is thine, And by the folding of these arms I know thou still art mine. " Thou ask'st by what chance I came to Avignon's tall towers, Chance I my Rienzi ; could i stay in Prague's enticing bowers ? Did I not tell thee, day and night my steps should mark thy track, And I have vowed to give to Rome her angel guardian back. Nay, more, the gallant Count of Albornez is here ; Ah ! start not so, thou warrior, thou hast no cause to fear ; Gaze on, Rienzi, steadily, into thy Nina's eyes. There is no shadow of a cloud upon their summer skies. "Thou sayest true, this sensual Count, when yielding woman's woes, Or woman's beauty, just redress, takes payment as it goes ; But, Cola, could I come to thee, and meet thy dark eyes' flame; Did I not know that death to thee were dearer far than shame. Yes, Cola, he as knelt to me, his hand in mine hath lain, And his lip; have breathed soft words of love — yes, breathed them all in vain ; NINA IN THE DUNGEON OF RIENZI. 107 And one of these dark curls, Cola, is the young Count's captured guest, They say 'tis cased in richest gold, and worn upon his breast. "Thou canst not guess his magic power; it is alon« through him, That I have won this boon for thee, to leave this dungeon dim; I5ut oh! he little dreams that Rienzi's love is here — Pride and ambition sway the heart of that triumphant peer. A hundred stately matrons wait his footsteps in their halls, And seek to win his courtly smile to grace their banquet walls. And a hundred of the loveliest girls of Italy's high-born Are scheming how to snare the heart whose love I proudly scorn. " But oh ! Rienzi, dearest one, the time is flitting by, And I must leave thee once again for the free wind and the sky ; No, no, not now, those words of love, breathe not of thanks to me, Rome needs thy glorious intellect — her Tribune shall be free. But when we meet, as meet we must, within our palace home. 108 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. When the Cavaliers have marshall'd thee with the gonfa- lons of Kome, When this heavy tempest has swept by, then, dearest, let me know If aught that I have done for thee has eased thy weight of woe." Steps of the coming sentinel, The tolling of a bell, A warm embrace, n. falling tear, A hurried, fond farewell ; And out into the cold night winds. The velvet mantle swept — Alas ! for the sad heart it wrapped, The sadder one it left. A SOLDIER'S STORY. OU ask of my comrade, lady ; It is a story often told. Of the heated in the battle Growing suddenly cold. He was as fine a soldier As in any ranks you'd meet — So wise, so good, so fearless, Here is his carte de visite. L A SOLDIER'S STORY. 109 " Yes, his hair fell in just those waves j See how his red lips smile ; Ah! we bivouacked together, We wandered many a mile. Yes, 'twas a rifle's fire Laid Harry within the tent ; It was hnrd to catch his accents, As over his form I bent. " I spoke of his home, hig loved, That were far off — many miles ; I whispered of promotion, And his pale lips wreathed with smiles." " I'm sure of promction, Charley, And you'll be promoted, too, Faithful comrade be ready — Meet me at the Grand Review. " When the Great Commander comes. With blood-red banners o'erhead. There'll be men and officers plenty Reported missing and dead. Don't be faint-hearted, Charley, Though the road lies up the hill — Though you hav'nt yet tried the armour, And don't yet know your drill. ** I know you'll enlist yet, Charley ; The sword will flash on your side , I i 110 'W* WAYSIDE FLOWERS. You'll bind the cross on your breast, And on to victory ride. The Captain is waiting, Charley, In shade of Golgotha's hill, And the Heavenly Adjutant, Charley, Will see that you're taught your drill. " Only a little endurance Like that you've shown in the strife ; And, Charley, there waits your coming Promotion and endless life. Only a few more watchings, 'Mid the darkness and the damp — Only a few more pacings Round and about the camp. " And well I know, dear comrade. When the last rdveilU is blown. There'll be men and oflSicers plenty, To file round the jasper throne Only," " 'Twas all I heard, lady ; On this arm lay a curly head ; And the officer on guard, Reported my Harry dead. I ! " Many long years have vanished Since we fired o'er Harry's bier ; And I'm hearing the ' sunset' call. Which he died too young to hear. ON A PICTURE. HI But I've found the Captain, lady, Who is loving my Harry still ; And from the Heavenly Adjutant, Slowly, I'm learning my drill. " I'm only struggling now, lady. With the tempest and the strife, Till the bugler in black armour Blows the ' lights out' call of life. And when in the morning wakening, I hear the last trumpet blown, I'll fall into rank with Harry, And file round the jasper throne." ON A PICTURE. <2^ jT lies before me, pillar, wall. The portrait of that ancient hall ; I see the moon and stars on high. The rays of that All-seeing Eye, The figures of those glorious three — Faith, Hope, and Heaven-born Charity j The tesselated floor, the Square, The Bible, Compass, each is there. 112 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. I know that once there proudly stood A love-united brotherhood — That there were kindred hopes and fears, Softened by kindred love and tears — That generous heart, and trusty hand, Waited the Master's high command, Where, amid jewels richly set, The Lodge of " Perfect Friendship " met. I do not know if in those walls, The tone of love still gently falls, Or if beneath the Holy Arch A band of weary pilgrims march. Or beaming lamps give out their light Upon each installation night, While men, amid their blazonry, Work out the rules of Masonry. I know that of that elder band. Some have attained the better land, And changed the glories of that shore For pilgrim garb and chequered floor ; That for the rough, uneven stone, They see the glowing jasper throne ; And for the Templar's battling strife, They rest beneath the " Tree of Life." Oh I " Perfect Friendshp," art thou found On any spot of earthly ground ? ON A PICTURE. 113 Tell me, ye devotees of Love, If earth below is Heaven above ? Though heavenly flowers round ye twine, As ye are bending 'fore that shrine, Ye breathe upon it a» ye bow, Ye crush the flowers as ye go. Hope on ! the deathless day shall spring. And builders hail their loving King ; How man} a Judas shall be sent Forth ia the captive's banishment ; How many a gem unnoticed here, Shall glitter in that starry sphere, Where, round the Lamb and Elders' seat. The Lodge of " Perfect Friendship " meet ? «*J-vl 114 WA YS/DE FLOWERS. THE OLD FISHERMAN. ALONG SHORE. ES, Miss, I thank ye a thousand times, It is a good book, no doubt ; But there's lots o' things too hard for me- I cannot make 'em all out. But I wasn't always the man you see : When little Bessie was here I wasn't the swearing, reckless old salt — I've a cough. Miss, it wasn't a tear. " One night — never mind, I can't tell it now — But out there, under the rock, The cruel sea holds the whitest lamb That ever ran in a flock ; She wished me to go to church, and I went ; 'Twas to find her Captain, you see ; But oh ! dear lady, the church so fine, Was no place for the likes o' me. <( I found the man who could give his gold Had never a sinful complaint. But the poor who gave only in coppers Was counted but half a saint. And I'm grown rather hard o' hearing Since ' The Pride o' the Bay ' went down, And they who sit up near the preacher Must wear broadcloth and satin gown. THE OLD FISHERMAN. lift " One night I went to a cushioned pew, The church looked so pretty and bright, Says I, * For certain, the Lord of Heaven May be here this very night.' But the man spoke gruff, * This ain't your seat ! Go 'way back,' says he to me ; * Beg pardon,' said I, ♦ I thought you sailed With the Lord of Galilee.' " I was never a scholar ; but Bessie, Says she, just before she died, * Father, the Captain '11 call for you, If it's late at eventide.' And somehow, of late, it seems, lady, Since you've been talking to me, I hear a voice in the midnight watch A-calling over the sea. " But I don't quite understand the call ; It may be a pirate, you know, Coaxing of me to go sailing with him To the dark cold rocks below. You say there was One who said, when called, * Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.' If I knew 'twas her Captain calling for me, I'd say ' Master, the old boat neareth.' " For I never go back upon danger, Miss, In wreck, or battle, or strife, 116 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. And I'd go through breakers, or swords, or surf, To land on the shore of life. So you're going away, Miss, alack for us ! Will ye sometimes pray for me 1 Pray God, I may see you before I drift Away on the unknown sea." DKIFTINO OUT. "Yes, I'm sailing away, my lady; Oh, give me that little hand, It opened the door that showed the light Of the far and blessed land ; And that's the country I'm bound for. Miss ; The nets, the ropes, the seine, Are all rolled up, and these withered hands Will coil them nev^er again. " Have I found Him yet ? Ah, that I have, And to think that all the while, 'Twas Him a-calling over the sea Calling so many a mile ; And I thought how could He step aboard Such a hulk of a heart as mine ; But He whispers, * I died on the cross for you ; Says I, ' Jesus, Master, I'm Thine.' " So I'm drifting away, away, Miss ; Oh ! but I'm weak and old, THK OLD FTSHER}fAN. iir And the waters I'm sailing on now, Miss, Are very dark and cold. But the Captain is somewhere aboard, I know, Though I can't see His precious face ; He told me He never would give me up ; I can trust His love and grace. " God bless this hand for the rope it threw To the old tar, just going down ; He'll not forget it upon the shore. When he's a-wearing the crown ; And Bessie and I'll look out one day, To watch till you touch the strand. Oh ! it is dark ; Father calls me away ; Blest Captain, is this the land 1 " 118 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD MASON, ESQ. t ' i ! DEDICATED WITH CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY TO THE CHOIR OP THE CEN- TENARY CHURCH, HAMILTON. ANG your harps upon the willows, Israel's Temple singers sweet ; You are weeping o'er the stillness Of accustomed welcome feet ; Minor strains are in your mucic, Earth to earth and dust to dust ; Cold and gloomy is the chamber Where they've laid your precious trust. From the solemn organ's pealing Have the skilful fingers gone ; With you he no more is numbered — Hushed the swelling anthem's tone. Joyful Alleluias, echoing As from Eden's far-off shore, Soft refrain and hymns of sorrow At his beckoning come no more. » Music's glorious power shall vibrate, But not at hia thrilling touch ; Harmony's sweet numbers echo. Not for him their founts shall gush ; Other hands and chords shall waken — His are under dark mould hid ; ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD MAHON, ESQ. 119 Other lips the sweet choir marshal His are 'neath the coffin lid ! Hang your harps upon the willows ; Generous heart and kindly tone, Friendship's dear reciprocations Have with your lov'd leader gone. Will you watch for his soon coming ? All too quiet is that brow : Will you wait his cheerful greeting 1 You would weep to see him now. Hang your harps upon the willows ; Hark ! amid the soft refrain Heard you not a known voice whisper, "This your brother lives again ? " Murmur not ; the tone you're missing Wakes where Death hath never trod. Far above your earthly temple — In the Paradise of God. Music, at whose feeblest whisper Our earth-bound souls would faint- Songs of love we dare not dream of, Greet the coming of the saint I Take your harps down from the willows, Israel's singers, sweet and clear ; Christ hath over all prevailed, " Therefore will we never fear." pr 120 WA YSIDE FLO WERS. God, our Father, hear our pleading ; May life's last and broken strain Melt into the glorious cadence, " Worthy is the Lamb once slain ! " So that, 'neath the deathless branches, And beside the river fair, All the singers in their numbers And the players shall meet there. THE PALAIS CARDINAL. very still the shadows lie, and even the birds are mute, There comes no sound of winding horn, loud trump or mellow flute. Outside the Palace darkness grows, the moss is damp with dew ; Inside a man lies dying now, terrible Richelieu. Yonder upon his bed of State is propped the suflFering frame, With agony in every nerve ; circled by pomp and fame ; No scalding tear is shed for him, no fond lips kiss adieu. Oh ! dying Cardinal, what comes in the land you are go- ing to % TUE PALAIS CARDINAL. 121 What wilt thou have to answer back for all thy pride and scorn, Trampling beneath thy mighty feet proud Gallic's highest bom ? Who soon shall meet thee face to face in those dark hours of gloom — What murdered man shall greet thee there to hear thine awful doom ? Chivalrous Montmorenci ! speak — speak, thou dying priest, Poetic, loving Chalais, banished from Court and feast. Ah ! Richelieu, another form moves on to meet thee now — What of the beautiful Cinq Mars, with fair and classic brow ? Seest thou that scaffold raised on high for the victim of thy sin 1 Well didst thou bait the gilded snaro and lure the fair boy in j Hear'st thou his last words to his priest, " I should have borne in mind The Psalm, ' Put not your trust in princes,' but the Court lights made me blind ; Dear Father Malavetti, I'm young to die ; cut off those golden curls, And send them to my mother and my sisters, poor young girls; n 122 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. riease tell them I am innocent of the crimes for which I die, And God, I trust, who pardons sins, will take my soul on high." Who, holy, pious Cardinal, tried each seductive art To win the love and blight the bloom of Aiine's trusting heart ; Who, failing love's return, sought long to brand with shame and pain, The Queen of France, and send her back a trampled flower to Spain 'i Do you remember, wily priest, the day Queen Anne stood In the council-room of Val de Grace, prisoner of Royal blood 'i Ah ! ah ! for once your pale cheeks flushed at a woman's truthful eyes. As the " letters bound with purple" betrayed your sad surprise. Oh ! keeper of men's consciences, comes to that ear of thine Sounds of a holy maiden's voice from the cells of Saint Antoine ? Back from that living tomb strange thoughts around thy soul have met. Of the soft dq-rk eyes and coral lips of Louise de La Fayette, •^ THE PALAIS CARDINAL. 123 I thought to lead him up to heaven-tho tomb shall hide my lace. Is there «« other way, my lord ? At noon m„st set my sun ? If earthly love be mch a sin, I go-God's will be done." Son of the Church, how dar'st thou scorch the flow.rs mat trod has sown, '^"'' notour"'""'"''' """'■ ^''"^"'"^^ thoucouldst What saidst thou of the priest who strove the gentle girl to shield ? o 6 * "For such devotion as Caussim's, Camda is a (ield " ^"'"sprU "''°'''"' "'™"^'' ''''"'" """ Cardinal may '^"'^ St"!'' ^"'"'' ""' ^''"'' '" «'"''' "'•' ''^^We king Richju, how hast filled the charge !-go, learn this very Oh ! hypocrite, wilt thou not turn e'en at this last, last ""'"poll"""'^'" ''"«"'"•'' «^'«i' -^ ~ foes of Dying with emblems „n thy lips, the tokens of His death Who w.th a love unparalleled gave up for us H^ breat.' 124 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Son of the Church, rend, rend thy garb of scarlet, white and gold, And wrap thy body and thy soul in the blackest sack- cloth's fold ; Death, Death, the mystic conqueror, hath won thee for his prize, And the sons of France with strange relief gaze on those close-sealed eyes. ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP. ISaJv^Z hence come these pilgrims toiling on ? "^^ryr Up, upward still they go, Till half a league at length they reach. Above the ocean's flow. Upon the granite rock they group, Around their altar stand. As with the signs of Masonry, They clasp each other's hand. Above, the blue, unfettered sky ; Two thousand feet below, The city with its human hearts, Chequered with joy and woe. ON THE! MOUNTAIN TOP. 125 Above, the glorious light of day, The graceful cloudlets roll, And the glories of that other Light Lit up each Mas m's soul. Out to the rustling summer wind, A snow-white flag they throw, ' And the peasant heard the brethren cheer In the valley far below. The glittering spires flashed and danced l^ike lightning in the blast, , While rolling as a silver flood. The rushing tide swept past. What gained you by that bold ascent, Men of the Mystic Craft ? You learnt that the Grand Architect Needs not our beam or shaft. That borderings of « pure lily work " V» reathe where man never trod • Beauty and strength dwell in His house, Ihe Universe of God. Was your Inner Guard that boulder vast, Cradled by thunder shock ? I>id you set a Tyler at the door Of that unyielding rock ? Missed you the wonted garniture. As in that Lodge-room fair Three hundred to your Order' true. Bowed solemnly in prayer ? ^1 126 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Hi What gained yoii by that bold ascent, To the eagle's native clime ? Carved in the everlasting hills, Traced you the hand of time 1 You looked above in wondering awe, At Nature's treasures rare ; You looked below with warmer pulse, For hearts you love beat there. Did not your spirit soar on high, Toward the pure sky above ? Did ye not drink a deeper draught. From springs of deathless love ? Did Faith, and Hope, and Charity, Speak of their height and breadth, Swept by no thoughts that bore you past The floods of time and death ? The sun sinks in the glowing West, As down the mountain slope The festive bands now take their way, With words of cheer and hope. Each bore a scrap of granite rough, A relic of the day When Nevada sent three hundred sons On her mountain top to pray. I! ALfREDA TO SEILER. 127 ALFREDA TO SEILER, ON THE MORNING OP THEIR SEPARATION. 'WAS the daughter of a British prince within her island home, 'Twas the leader of a thousand men from old Im- . perial Rome, And very mournful were the tones blent with the heavin? main, As the willow branches bent their heads to hear the sad refrain : "Love me let^a; my memory hovers Like a shadow in thy way, And it intercepts the sunbeams Which should gild thy dreary day. Oh ! from Albion's rocky islet, Take bright visions of the past ; Bear the cross of suffering meekly, And it will grow light at last. "Love me less ; a spell yet lingers In the glances of thine eyes. Hovers in those clasping fingers, Whispers in those heaving sighs ; i i i 128 wa yside flowers. Hush, thy love must be another's ; Rise, thy hand and heart are free ; No, it never was a brother's Tenderness thou had'st for me. " Time will pass and bring thee hither, Over yonder rolling main, Andjwithin this olden castle. Dearest, we may meet again ; In that hour I will not shun thee, Each accustomed path we'll trace ; If another's heart can claim thee, Love me less — give hers the place. " 'Twas thy dying parent's blessing, Sealed by pledged and fatal vow, And that promise still remain eth Solemnly, unbroken now. From thy brow drive back the spectres, From thy heart dispel the mist : Rise, there's work in life's stern battle- Never from thy post be missed. " Goodbye, darling ; up the mountain Lies the country fair and bright, We are under marching orders, For a city out of sight ; ALFRED A TO HEILER. 120 Love me less ; life's shadow falleth Softly o'er the dial plate, And 'twill not be many stages, Till we reach the golden gate. " Love me less, till at death's quiver Falls the darkest, latest sin ; Wait till o'er the raging river, Our tossed boats glide safely in— Till each quivering bark is anchored In the soundings of that shore, Then, amid uncloudevi hours, Heart's fond idol, love me more." And so they said farewell— that girl within her island home. And the leader of a thousand men from old Imperial Rome ; Ah I there are broken hearts on earth 'neath placid bosoms worn, There are sweet affections lying hid till the resurrection morn. -••tfi 1.10 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. THE PRAYER OF DAVID. *' Oh ! spare me, that I may recover strength." fT was night upon Jerusalem ; Through the palace of the king There came no sound of armed men, No songs the minstrels sing ; The incense lamps burnt faintly, And the moon's soft light was laid Upon the tesselated floor, As the suffering monarch prayed. " Spare me ; the earth is lovely, For all green things are smiling, and the rose Sends up its fragrance through my lattice bars ; The streamlet from the distant mountain flows, Making sweet musi'^ i^o the twinkling stars. As night is cofiing. " Oh ! spare me ; I have suffered — This form that never sank in weakness down. For lion, bear, or Philistine, can now Scarce turn its weary eyes to sword or crown, Or raise its fingers to its throbbing brow ; Pity my weakness. THE /'HA YER OF DA VID. 131 " Oh ! spare me ; men of battle Wait for my voice upon the blood-stained field ; And I have been so strong for Israel's right, It cannot be that I have now to yield Helmet and spear ; no, I have yet to fight For Thee, Jehovah. " Oh ! spare me, I am wanting In the assembly of the choral host ; Asaph has stayed the rapt chords of his lyre, And Ahiezer's army halts on Jordan's coast ; Nathan the prophet weeps ; Hiram of Tyre Waiteth my coming. " Oh ! spare me ; my sweet children Traverse the marble halls with noiseless feet ; I once again must twine the golden hair Of lovely Absalom, and hear the sweet Full tones of loved Bathsheba's heir, My thoughtful Solomon. " Oh I spare mej; gentle voices That have a charm for me, so calm and low, Have whispered to me loving words to-day ; And I have felt soft lips upon my brow, That scared the fever's burning glow away, Calming my spirit. 132 WA YSIDE FLOWERS, " Oh ! spare me. Well I know That in thy presence dwells unbroken peace, And 1 shall rest by thy right hand at length ; And yet I ask life's pulse may not yet cease. Oh ! spare me fcht\t I may recover strength Ere the grave claims me." THE CLOUDED STAR. WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF THIRTEEN. Pale evening star, Peeping forth from thy dark cloud-covered Canopy, like sparkling gem in the deep darkened Mine. Now thy bright form is hid : now it Bursteth forth like primrose blossom in the Early spring. Thou dost light the weary traveller Ere yet the Queen of Night hath risen on Her dreary path. Who hath nerved thee to fret the Broad deep firmament for ages, while those who Gaze upon uxy light are soon encircled in the night Of death 1 Who lit thy lamp on high ? He who feeds The raven's nest ; who giveth garments to the lilies, Petals to the flowers, down to the butterfly, wisdom Unto kings, and favour to rebellious man. CORONATION OF GODFREY DE BOUILLON. 133 CORONATION OF GODFREY DE BOUILLON. ,HE conquering army slowly march Beneath the castle's lofty arch ; Thousands of trusty knights passed on, Whose swords the Holy Land had won ; Some with the yet unhealed scar Left by the Turkish scimitar ; Each with the sharpened lance at rest- Each with a cross upon his breast. They with the music's thrilling strain, Here crossed the brook, the field, the plain, And chaunted forth their leader's fame- Godfrey de Bouillon's magic name. Now with the crown and signet ring, They come to hail their victor king. And wreath with bay and sparkling gem The monarch of Jerusalem. Forth stepped their leader, and a shout That thrilled his very soul rang out ; Then as on high he raised his hand. Silence fell o'er the martial band— A pause in bugle, trump and song, A stillness o'er the mighty throng, * 134 WAYSIDE FLO WEES. A single voice the silence broke — Godfrey de Bouillon gently spoke : "Oh! knights, companions, dauntless hearts. That by my side have stood, And won the Holy Sepukhre, 'Mid seas of fire and blood — Here hail me as your brother, friend.; To your encampment bring Me as your loved, true, trusty friend, But crown me not your King. '^ Friends and companions, we have met Upon the tented ground ; Honour and love and charity Have in your camp been found ; We've drank at Sychar's ancient well, We've camped on Zion's hil! ; Look, knights, the lion keeps his paw Upon the Crescent still. " But oh, dear knights, forget not, we Are followers of One Who for mir sakes bowed down to death, As He the victory won. Honoured am I, His hosts to lead To Cflivet's dark shade— m CORONATION OF GODFREY DE BOUILLON. 135 To suffer where He suiFered pain, To pray where He has prayed. " Friends and companions, not to me Shall be this homage gi\ en ; I dare not here be crowned a King, ^ Where wept the King of Heaven. Shall steel and iron weld for Him, And gold for me entwine ? Shall the Thorn Acacia wreath His brows, And the soft laurels mine ? " Adown these streets He wearily, Mocked by the soldiers, went ; 'Mongst yonder trees in midnight hours In agony He bent ; Upon that Mount He wept in grief. By that dark murmuring spring Walked the cross-bearing Nazarene Oh, crown me not its King. " Sir knights, within these city gates, Solomon's temple rose, And strength and beauty still kept guard Despite their many foes ; The Crescent we must keep in check But crowns may not entwine 136 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. n ' ! i • : a Around our brow, till Christ comes back To holy Palestine. " Oh, by the life which He laid down, His agony and pain, May we be ready to go forth In His triumphant train. Back to your altars, Christians, knights, There, kneeling, humbly pray Godfrey de Bouillon may be found Meet for his crown that day." HOPE. "Death draws us nearer; it will not belong, dear sister. Last evening, after the stormy day, in the holy moonlight, she was with me ; she is mine for ever." — Lost and Won. TERRIBLE tempest rode high this morn, And the waters roared to the sea-gull's screech. But now they're asleep in the arms of night. Seaweed and shell has the pebble-strewn beach, And I have you. A skiff was tossing outside the bar ; A ship nigh wrecked with the breaker's spray ; HOPE. Yet both are at peace and all safe this eve. The ship haa her harbour, the boat her bay And I have you. A lamb had wandered so far to-day Lost its way on the darkening wold • Fearful and trembling, by rain drops cMled ; But It dreams sweet dreams in its own safe fold. While I have you. The stars march out to maintain their right Uf a royal road in the azure sky ■ The moon has her path in the fleecy clouds That kiss her "good night " as they pass her by, And I have you. The shimmering leaves hold their concert sweet. Led by the breeze from the soft south-west • And the glow,vorm has banks of moss and dew • The rose has her bower, the bird its nest, ' And I have you. Is it only in mem'ry thou comest, love ? Only in fancy beside me thou art 1 And yet so real, so loving and fond, I surely can feel the beat of thy heart ; Ves, I have you. 138 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Oh ! for the life that shall never be done, Oh ! for the light that shall darken never ! Soon will the signal to meet be given, And on our love is inscribed "For ever;" Yes, I have you. PRAYER FOR THE ABSENT. C*0' VENING'S gloom is round me now — Evening's breeze is whisp'ring low- Gentle, murmuring voices wake From the ripples of the lake ; Maker of the land and sea, Hear my humble evening plea ; Father ! hear me as I pray — One I love is far away. Guide the bark that bears him on — Guide him till the goal is won — Up the mountain's towering height, 'Mid the misty damps of night, In the city's swelling throng, With the wood-dove's sweetest song, PRA YER FOR THE ABSENT. By the river's lonely marge, O'er him give thy angels charge. In his hours of gladsome mirth Round some old and welcome hearth- In the halls of keen debate, 'Mid the pomp and pride of state, Cheer his spirit with love's beams, Lighten up his midnight dreams ; In his wand'rings, free and wild Father, keep him like a child. ' From the pestilential blight. From the sunbeams' scorching light From temptation's mighty power ' In some lone, unguarded hour, From the dangers that we know From the dark, undreamt-of foe' From the death-splash of the wave Saviour, hear, and help, and save. ' Hear him, as he bends the knee, oraving richest gifts for me ; As the hours of darkness roll Doth our farewell haunt his soul- Banish pain from that high brow' Heal his spirit, anguished now, Safely mark his chequered track. Safely, Father, bring him back 140 I' WA YSIDE FLO WEES. OUR FATHER'S GRAVE. LEEP in peace, for dreary years — Love has drenched thy grave with tears; Resting in a tomb alone, In a land almost unknown, Thev who once broad lands could trace Only claim a burying place; Abraham-like, 'mid sons of Heth — Deeds of land are sealed with death ; Willow branches o'er thee wave, Father, in thy quiet grave. Far away on England's shore, Where the tides of Severn roar. Towards the firmament's blue woof Grows a consecrated roof ; Holy walls our Father built, With the light of morn are gilt, ' And his Son's name, carved on high, Meets the traveller passing by, Though the father and the son Their earth-wearied race have run. Never to the Holy Rock, Truer shepherd led his flock ; Scoffers hushed the impious word When his pleading voice was heard ; OUR FATHERS GRAVE. 141 And the midnight robber stayed From his deeds of blood, and prayed ; And they say his name is now Breathed with tears and blessings low ; For they wept, who could not save One who fills a pastor's grave. Widows dried the falling tear When they heard his footstep near ; Orphans in his pathway bent For his blessing as he went ; For his lamp shed holy light, Heaven-born love and honour bright, Strove to rule, with earnest prayer, Every action by the square ; Holy deeds their incense wave Round a well-tried Mason's grave. Clouds were near the setting sun, When the ship its race had run / Ah ! affection, wild and free, Might have been idolatry, And, in unforgiving woe, Said, " I will not let thee go j" Had not love's attentive ear Caught the storm-cloud mutt'ring near- Heard, with thunder in its train, "Sounds of an abundant rain." 143 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Father ! thou in light dost dwell — They for whom thy last tears fell, Still the widow'*s grief must share, Still the orphan's lot must bear ; But One, who appointed thee, Counsellor and friend to be, Thine own best beloved will keep Till, like thee, we fall asleep — Thine will guard through every blast Till we meet with thee at last. BEAUTIFUL LILLY. ^ EAUTIFUL Lilly wandered in glee, With her noble lover close by her side, And they looked on the blue of the tossing sea, And the boats on the tide. Beautiful Lilly, raise not your eyes To that winning smile and that radiant glance : Look out to the West — for the tempest sweeps. And the lightnings dance ! Beautiful Lilly, in your pure soul Sweet visions are rising of years to come ; BEAUTIFUL LILLY, 143 Of earthly skies, where no storm clouds roll O'er a peaceful home. Beautiful Lilly, down in his heart He dreams not of altar or ring of gold : Gather your mantle up—why do you start ? Does the wind blow cold 1 Beautiful Lilly, you'll never bear The name of the man on whose arm you lean ; Beautiful Lilly, you'll never wear The orange flower, I ween. Beautiful Lilly, 'tis better far That thy dark eyes shadow to hear his name. Than to bear to thy grave the branded scar Of a maiden's shame. "Died of consumption,"— a common death For the budding flowers of earth to die ; And all that's left is the earth scooped, out', And then heaped up on high. You sleep on the bank of the marshy pool ; All we can gleam from the prairie wide, Is, " she who was teaching the village school Grew paler and died." ^>s*r^ 144 WA YSJDE FLOWERS. Sleep in thy far away home, dear girl, — For no one knows, so no one can tell, Of love that lies, like a hidden pearl, In the heart's deep well. 'Tis only hidden, — some glorious day The angels will gather each scattered gem ; You'll give them your jewel, out of the clay, For their diadem. THE RUINS OF COPAN. HAT do ye there, ye ruins vast ? What mighty spirits brood Among those interlacing boughs, In that far solitude ? Have ye no tongues, ye polished shafts ? Speak, speak, ye sculptured stone — Who answered back ? — the river's tide, The wind's low mournful tone. Temple, why there ? A mighty skill Has unto thee been given ; Why is that pillar crumbling low ? Why is that altar riven ? THE RUINS OF cor AN. Plummet and lino have told how true Thy architecture stands ; Hammer and chisel worked for thee, Held in a master's hands. 14ft Is there no storied urn to tell Who holds the stolen key, That shall unlock the wondrous tale Of this wild mnsonry ? The traveller st. ads in solemn maze, And asks with anxious breath If thou hast no known history Of life, and love, and death; No stories of the knights who crossed Their swords before thy face ; No record of the bride who knelt There in her blushing grace ; No carved names of the first crowned kings ; No stain of teardrops shed, Where priests within thy massive pile Sang masses for the dead 1 * Did Mizeriam's sons in worship bend Where yonder idol smiles ; Or the dark-eyed sons of old Castile Tread proudly down thy aisles 1 --r^ 146 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Banner and lance, have they not flashed ? And heads of chxstering hair, Have they not bowed in that lone porch And lisped their childhood's prayer ? Far in the glowing Eastern lands Each footstep tells its tale. Of warrior strife, of woman's love, Of flushing brows grown pale. Round Greece, and Koine, and Egypt's shore Genius and Art entwine. And a world has turned in ecstacy Toward Holy Palestine. i\ iihi, i 'ii But thou, a fugitive, a child. Lost to thy household band, A lone bird wandered from its nest, Into a foreign land. But hope, fair ruins, hast thou nought More precious than this heap, Where strength and beauty, though in tears, Still their lone watching keep % Cheer up, sweet stranger, all unknown. Surely within thy shade, The dust which God himself protects, Among thy stones is laid ; TO BABY BICKLE. 147 And on the resurrection morn, Deathless redeemed man Shall rise to immortality, 'Mid ruins of Copan. TO BABY BICKLE. NGELS guard thee, genlle flower. From the thorns of life's rough way, Guide thy feet by fount and bower, Shield from trouble's drenching spray, Keep thee from the storms of care, Keep thee from the tempter's snare. Mother, to thy care is given. This immortal soul to train For her mansion in the heaven, Pray, though love's tears fall like rain, Christ, Himself of woman born, Will not thy soul pleading scorn. And remember that sometimes. From the gardens of the skies, 148 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Down unto these lower climes, Comes the Lord of Paradise ; And while walking plucks the rose, Gathers lilies as He goes. » Infant pilgrim, while we ask, Joy's soft arms may thee enfold ; Yet on each there lies a task Who would reach the gates of gold ; Ere we lay the burden down First the cross and then the crown. Baby, woman's lot is yours, To watch, to love, mid calm or blast. Who shall keep while life endures ? Who shall guide thee home at last ? He who Himself was undefiled, He can keep thee, precious child. OUR RECTORS CHRISTMAS GREETING. 149 OUR RECTOR'S CHRISTMAS GREETING. WRITTEN ON HEARING THE PASTORAL LETTER OP THE BEV. J. G. GED- DE8, TO HIS PARISHIONERS. VOICE came o'er the waters, A message o'er the seas, Sweet as the breath of Spring's first flowers, Refreshing as the breeze ; A message not of hurry Charging our fearless hosts, To arm and hasten forth to guard Our free Canadi n coasts. A voice came o'er the waters, " My people," so it said, And those words embraced a motley group. The life-worn hoary head. Girls with their waving tresses, Children with merry feet, Our noble British garrison. The poor upon the street. Men in the pride of manhood. Upon whose infant brow rf h' 1 160 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. That hand had signed the mystic cross, Whose voice was speaking now. " My people," and our spirits Took in the words of cheer, Read in those hallowed walls the first Bright Sabbath of the year. " My people, as the holy time Of Christmas feast and church-bell chime Draws nearar, more and more I feel Sweet memory's chains around me steal ; I miss you all, each well-known face, I long to fill th' accustomed place ; I feel, though mercies round me pour, A stranger on a stranger shore. "My pe9ple, two and thirty years. We've mingled hopes and joys and tears ; And as those sacred hours come round, We've trod together holy ground. We've gone unto the manger bed By angel choirs gently led, 'Mid festive hours we've sought the gem Cradled in ancient Bethlehem. " My people, I shall with you be, In prayer, in hymn and litany ; OUR RECTORS CHRISTMAS GREETING. 151 And as you kneel around the board In memory of our Blessed Lord, And take the hallowed bread and wine, My spirit shall with yours entwine ; We'll meet, though seas between us roll, In the communion of the soul. " Remember me to all, but speak Kind words for me unto the weak ; Go to the couch of grief and pain And give my message o'er again ; And tell the poor within each cot, That by me they are not forgot ; Tell one and all to pray for me, A wanderer from you o'er the sea. " My people, through the coming year, May God's rich blessing give you cheer ; May His blest presence with you be A shield, a guard, a canopy ; And like the pillar, lead your way, Unto the land of endless day ; 'Till at our Glorious Leader's feet, The shepherd and his flock shall meet." A voice came o'er the waters ; What shall we answer back, 1 162 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. That telegraph of sympathy Across the sea-gull's track ? That prayers his steps have followed By way-side, sea and strand, That warm hearts wait to greet him, Home to his native land ! ON THE BURIAL OF A MEMBER OF THE ORDER OF ODD-FELLOWS. 'HERE gathered a throng of the bold, the brave ; They stood around a Brother's open grave ; Such were the words their leader said, As they sadly bent o'er the sleeping dead : " Brother 1 round thy home, thy hearth, Desolation spreads its dearth ; When the evening birds rejoice, They thou lov'st will miss thy voice ; Wife, and sisters, bright eyed sons. They, the lone, and weeping ones ; They, the loving, and the fair, Brother, they will miss thee there ! ^^^ BURIAL OF AN ODD-FELLOW. " Brother ! when yon manly throng Raise the hymn and swell the song ; When they strike each full-toned string, To the lay they're wont to sing ; Will they miss one swelling tone ? Will they think of one that's gone ? In the hallowed house of prayer, Brother, they will miss thee there, "Brother I we have laid this night Thee beneath the mountain's height ; We have stood beside thy grave. We have wept, who could not sive. Shall the world mark us with scorn ? Brother, it is thee we have borne. Shall the stranger mock the tear ? Brother, we have touched thy bier. "By the vows that passed the night Of thy new inaugural rite ; ^y our own, our hallowed sign, By the love that still is thine ; ' By the heart and by the hand, Of our own beloved band ; By the tears which bright eyes shower, Brother, we are hore this hour. 153 164 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Shall we wait thy coming feet, When our noble Lodge shall meet ; Shall we stay to hear them fall ; Shall we wait our Brother's call 1 No ! for thou art far away, From the world, and with the clay ; And may we who ''till remain, Stand prepared for Death's last pain, " When the sun and moon are fled, And the graves shall yield their dead ; When the mystic spell is broken. Of the secret softly spoken ; When the chariots fill the air. Brother, may -we meet thee there I When the earth's firm walls are riven, Brother, may we meet in Heaven ! " And the voice was hushed on the zeph3n"'s breath, That band stole away from the vault of Death ; For the clods fell heavily on his breast, And they left their Brother to take his rest. :-*^ ^r- T \\ \[ THE QUEENS PRAYER. 155 THE QUEEN'S PRAYER. I HE king had girt his armour on, His good sword at his side . His milk-white charger champs the bit, And foams in battle pride But good Queen Anne calmly sought The altar's peaceful shade, And low before her country's God Her warrior's cause she laid. No papal crucifix was there— Her slender fingers lay Upon the pages Wickliff"e brought, Her fair form knelt to pray ; Yet, as the Abbey bell pealed forth The fervid noontide hour, The maidens saw their Queen arise To seek the Warder's tower. The Warder from his tower replied, " Ladye, ah ! far away, I hear the foemen's slogan cry, * Down with the king to-day ! ' And faint and dying on the breeze, In smothered whispers low, ' God and St. George ! ' my brethren cry, In accents that I know. 166 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. " The foemen's chieftains ride and slay — England's are few and worn ; The foemen's banners kiss the sky — England's are soiled and torn." Day wore away, but still the queen Was kneeling all alone, Her long, dark curls fell heedlessly Upon the altar stone. " Yet once again," my Warder brave ; " Ladye, the foemen run ; The banners of our lord, the king, Wave in the setting sun ; * God and St. George ! ' from rock to rock, The coming conquerors cry ; * God aftd St. George ! ' the founts and hills In echoes wild, reply." J The army neared the castle gates, The minstrels' strains begun, And as the Warder closed them in, Told what the Queen had done. They sat them down around the board. The king, the chief, the serf, They merrily filled the festal bowl To the victory of the turf. THE QUEEN'S PRAYER. 157 They breathed their <' good Queen Anne's " praise ; Her name was pledged in wine, The princess of old Luxen]»urgh, That knelt before her shrine. King Richard's brow grew flushed with pride, The haughty Leicester frown'd, To think that Wickliffe's tenets vile Had such an answer found. What won the battle on that day 1 Asked many a stately knight, When gazing on his casque and shield, And blood-stained armour bright. What won the battle on that day ? A union strong and rare — The King of England's mighty arms, The Queen of England's prayer. r 168 WAYl^IDE FLOWERS. "I SOMETIMES THINK IT WERE BEST." I. fJ^yTELL, how shall I help to right the things that are going wrong 1 And what can I do to hurry the promised time of peace 1 The day of work is short and the night of sleep is long ; And whether to pray or preach, or whether to sing a song, To sow in my neighbour's field, or to seek the golden fleece, Or to sit with my hands in my lap, and wish that sin would cease. II. I think, sometimes, it were best just to let the Lord alone ; I think some people forget He was here before they came. It's a little for His glory, and a good deal more for their own. That they peddle their petty schemes, and bleat and bab- ble and groan. I sometimes think it were best, and I were less to blame. Should I sit with my hands in my lap — in my face a crimson shame. — The Old Cabinet ; Scribner^s/or April. ANSWER TO "/ SOMETIMES THINK IT WERE BEST." 169 ANSWER TO " I SOMETIMES THINK IT WERE BEST." ^^J Y pilgrim brother in life's rough way, oh where have you wandered to ? Does the cloud that is veiling the noon-day sun seem an eclipse to you ? You want to help to right a few of the many things that are wrong ; You say that the day of work is short, and the night of rest is long ; You don't know whether to pray, or preach, or look for a golden fleece, Or sit all day with your hands in your lap, praying that sin may cease ; ' It is better to sail ahead, looking out for the bars of sand. For anchoring out in mid-ocean will never bring us to land. I do not doubt, my friend, that if Jesus were here again, Unnoticed, going to His daily task upon Nazareth's foot- worn plain, Or we saw Him returning at eve to that holy abode of rest, A wearied, careworn, loving man, on a living mother's breast, It is likely many a Christian lip would curl in defiant scorn : wmamm^timmf^ 160 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. " Is this your Prince of King David's line — a man in a stable born ? " For many a one who feels prepared the " King in His beauty " to crown, Would pass the " Son of Mary" by with a supercilious frown. I know, my brother, it is a truth, and a mournful one it is, That many invest for their own estates under the seal of His, x\nd they keep the uppermost rooms and the chief seats at the feast, For they of whom the Master said, let him that is first be least ; And they do forget, as you justly say. One was here be- fore they came. But the music of silver and gold is more than the music of His name, And the foot of pride is echoing still over the temple floor. Forgetting the Lord has His corner still, watching the treasury's store- But rise, dear friend, out of the mist that is setting about your way — It is His voice, not a dying man's, that is calling you " work to-day." f !i I U \\ J, ANSWEM TO -/ SOMETIMES THINK IT WERE BEST:^ 161 You need not think that it is best, or that you would be less to blame, To sit ail day with your hands in your lap, your face ii> a crimson shame : When the King comes into His vineyard grounds, the judgment will be for you. Not for the man who lives next door, or sits in a neigh- bouring pew. Beware of the tempter's syren voice, nor break up the clods of earth. To hide from the interest that Heaven secures your talent of sacred birth. You fc y you think sometimes it were best to leave the Lord alone. Because men work for His glory a bit, but a good deal more for their own ; But, friend, if the gleaner beside you keeps talking of all he has done, Shall you go home without any sheaves at the setting of the sun ? If one at the fountain will make a splash and scatter about the spray, Will you break your pitcher in deep disgust, and then go thirsty away 1 Because within the walls of the church some are building tents of sand, Shall you go out and make one the less in the true Rock- building band ? iiUJUJiimMjijyaij i LUiattJ-ujiayu.,aa^^ 162 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. " The poor you have always with you," a legacy left by the King : Go and bind up the broken hearts, make the captive bird to sing — Go watch by the beds of the dying, when the lamp of life burns low — Let the trembling, fainting ones lean on you, as down the dark valley they go. There was One who received the sinners ; lead the lost dove back to its nest. Toil till the workmen put up their tools, as the sun lies low in the west ; Arouse thee, my pilgrim brother, there is something for you to do, For be sure, before His triumphant return, the Lord has a need of you. REQUIESCAT. 163 REQUIESCAT. ON THE DEATH OP RICHARD H. MURTON, ESQ. ^^ ROM the couch of mortal sickness, ji^ From the bed of pain, A mother in her sorrow Weeps her sad refrain ; An'! far across the breakers, And the sea-gull's track, Soothing strains are answering That mother back. " Far o'er the wide blue ocean, Underneath sunny skies, Far from his home and country M^ darling lies." " Yes, but loving hands have press'd Sods upon that manly breast, Holy words around his bier. Solemn rite and heartfelt tear. We have given the earthly sod, Precious dust to keep for God— Buried as he fain would be. With the rites of Masonry — Kequiescat." 164 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. " Ah ! but there stood no brother, Around that dying bed ; No sister, no gentle mother, Pillowed that head." " No, but faithful hearts and true. Watched the pilgrim's journey through. Gathered round the dying bed. Pillowed the poor throbbing head. Cooled the burning lip and brow, Listened to each whisper low, Hea^i the splash of Death's cold wave, Wept who found they could not save — Requiescat." " Oh ! but the weary longing For one more loved embrace, Oh ! for one look of perfect peace From that sweet face." " Mother, hast thou not him given To our Father in the heaven ? Doth He fling such jewels back On Destruction's midnight track ? Did'st thou not show thy child's feet Where to find the mercy seat ? So that out of darkest night He would reach the road to Light ? — Requiescat." REQUIESCAT. 165 " Far o'er the wide blue ocean, Still kind friends watch o'er him, Soon, oh Father in the heavens, To me restore him." " O'er the precious lonely grave, Stone shall rise and green branch wave; And though mighty waters rise, 'Twixt his tomb and native skies. One who could not love him less Than with mother's tenderness, Thy beloved dust will keep. Till the morning call from sleep — Requiescat." 166 WA YSIDE FLO WERH. COLERAINE. I WAS the evening ere the battle of famous Water- loo, And two warriors, side by side, looked on the water blue ; The youngest spake, " I summoned you from our com- rades' merry jest — There's a heavy weight lies here, brother, a trouble in my breast ; And I've much to say to you Irhat must be said to-night, For God has told me I shall fall to-morrow at the fight ; And I know that you will ever be the soother of each pain — Are we not both from Erin, and both from dear Coleraine ? " Nay, start not, Bryan ; look not sad ; I am not dying now, The breezes yet play freely round my warm and flushing brow; And my soul is strong and vigorous to bear the soldier's part, And the streams of life gush easily throughout my beat- ing heart ; And I'm a Christian, brother, and not afraid of death, But there are loving ones who'll weep over my dying breath, COLERAINE. 167 Though they will not see me fall among yon princely train, For they are all in Ireland— in distant, fair Coleraine. " I've a gentle wife, dear Bryan, you may remember her, When we three in happy childhood so oft together were ; When you return in honour convey these to her hand- Say they are letters come from one in a far and happy land; There's a lock of hair, a portrait, they are tokens sad and true, And she will weep o'er those with tear-drops not a few ; But tell her also how I died— tell her that every vein Thrilled to the last for Ellen, young Ellen of Coleraine. " I've an infant, Bryan, not a boy— I should not fear for him, For his would be bright honour's path till wearying life grew dim, And the world would call him brave in his daring, bold career ; 'Tis for a gentle daughter, dear brother, that I fear. With her mother's winning loveliness, her father's spirit free, 1 God in mercy guide her bark safe o'er life's rolling sea. ! Bryan, she may deeply love one of the warrior train, And be left as I have left one— one in far-off Coleraine. 168 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. " Oh 1 Bryan, we are brethren by a strong and mystic tie ; Say will you keep and nourish these till you lie down and die? You have often sighed o'er faithless ones ; you know the heai t will take A blemish from the blight of Love, and bear it till it break ; But now you'll have another charge, a young and joyous thing. Oh ! friend, dear friend, no scalding tear thus from your eye should spring, You may see me never morej for among the crowded slain You'll scarce remember Dermot, poor Dermot of Cole- raine. »> He had finished — in the morning the sounding trumpet pealed, And these true ones fought like brave men on battle's gory field ; And many hours rolled swiftly by ere pressing foes gave way Before Britannia's banners and her troops of mighty sway; But it ended at the last, and the noble, young and brave, The coward and the loving, lay in one fearful grave ; And Bryan with one bleeding wound traversed the cover'd plain To search for gallant Dermot, brave Dermot of Coleraine. COLERAINE. 169 He searched among the Uving till hope's bright star had fled, And a tear was on his cheek when he turned among the dead ; But his sad task was not fruitless ; he found his friend at length, The young and stately warrior struck down in manly strength ; And Bryan wept o'er him, who lay a corpse upon the eartii, Far from his gentle kindred and the clime that gave him birth ; He started-not in loneliness lay the soldier on the plain, i^or Ellen was with Dermot, fair Ellen of Coleraine. Ah 1 she had journeyed wearily to gain the scene of strife, And she reached it to behold the soldier's ebbing life • And the arrows of Death met her as she knelt upon the sod, And their faithful souls together reached the city of their God j And Bryan looked upon them, as they slept together there, Life's streams gushed aJl around them, the gallant and the fair ; And the watcher moved the mantle and saw life among the slain, 'Twas Dermot's infant daughter, good Dermot of Cole- raine. fl 170 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. They were buried with the honours which crown a soldier's tomb, And tear-drops not a few fell for their early doom ; And many an aged warrior sighed and turned away his face, As Bryan bore the daughter to her parents* resting place. And days rolled by ; a ship of war bore the victorious home, And a fair girl with a warrior together crossed the foam ; They reached their niu j land in peace, from the battle and the main ; But two were left in Waterloo, two wand rersfr* m Cole- raine. ON THE AREIVAL OF THE "ETOWAH." VER the waves, over the waves — Over Ontario's breast I On she moves to her destined port, To this land of the West! From the rocks of the olden clime she comes. From the light of our cherished early homes ; First from their forests of masts she springs. Like a young bird pluming her anowy wings : ON THE ARMIVAL'OF TI/F " FTOWAIT." 171 A peaceful link to our fatherland, Onward she steers for this new young strand ; ■First European at anchor lay, On the loyal heart of Burlington Bay. Over the waves, over the waves, Rides our fairy guest ; Welcome the bark of our native shore To this land of the West. Over the ocean's treacherous tomb, Over the mermaid's groves of bloom. Coming out of the British Ark, Like the dove who skimmed o'er the billows dark • The shoals, and the storms and quicksands past, ' Lalmiy she rests amongst us at last ; Furling her snow sails, the creature lies, Cradled under Canadian skies. Over the waves, over the waves, Cheer for the bark at rest; Sweet peace and prosperity she brings To this land of the West. We know that in KSolomon's reiga of old. The merchantmen came from their lands of gold • Commerce and trade spread their mighty wings, ' Beanng rich stores of all precious things • And the snow sail flashed, and the white oar beat, Iheir wealth to plant at Solomon's feet ; ffi 172 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. And the ships of Tyro and Tarshish lay As " Etowah " lies in our sparkling bay. Over the waves, over the waves, Cheer for the stranger blest, Commerce revives at her smiling face, In this land of the West. No skulking craft to spy out our ports, Entice our sailors, or mould our forts ; Her trim-built hulk has not learned to make The serpent's trail in her sparkling wake ; No " Kearsage " and " Alabama " strife Where " Etowah " moves like a thing of life ; No trembling slaves crouch beneath the fold Of false colours stowed in the secret hold. Over the waves, over the waves, Bearing o'er ocean's breast The dear old Flag that we love so well In this land of the West. What shall she say when she proudly turns Where the Sun in his early glory burns ? Let her bear words of a goodly land. Of the loyal heart and the brother's hand ; Home she shall carry the precious ore, The woods and the fruits of this prosperous shore ; So bearing back, from her mast to her keel. The olive leaf of a country's weal. THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. 173 Over the waves, over the waves, God speed her to her rest. Prosper her course till we meet once more In this land of the West. THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. "Mile after mile of graves, but not one word or sign of the gloomi- ness of death."— Professor DeLannay. ILE after mile of graves. League after league of tombs, But not one sign of spectre Death, Waving his shadowy plumes. Hope, beautiful and bright, Spanning the arch above ; Faith, gentle overcoming Faith, And Love, God's best gift. Love. For early Christians left Their darlings to their rest, As mothers leave their little ones When the sun is in the West. No mourning robes of black. No crape upon the doors, For the victorious palm-bearers Who tread the golden floors. 'if 174 11 ' WAYSIDE FLOWERS, Arrayed in garments white, No mournful dirges pealing, Waving green branches in their hands. Around the tomb they're kneeling. This was their marching song : *' We're not by Death's arms holden ; " And this their glorious funeral hymn : "Jerusalem the golden." Beautiful girls sleep there, Waiting the Bridegroom's call ; Each lamp is burning brilliantly, While the night shadows fall. And baby martyrs passed Straight to the great " I Am," While sturdier soldiers carved o'er each, " Victor, God's little lamb." Mile after mile of graves. League after league of tombs. The cross upon each conqueror's breast Lights up the catacombs. "'Tis in this sign we conquered," Sounds on their blood-stained track ; " 'Tis in this sign we'll conquer," We gladly answer back. MIDNIGHT. 175 MIDNIGHT. /Jj^jf IPNIGHT ! strange and solemn hour- ; Folded in each household flower ; Not a sound is near me now Save the breeze's cadence low, And the patter of the rain Tapping on my window pane, And tie dripping of the eaves Falling upon withered leaves. Yet the sentry keeps his tramp ' Eound and round the soldier ca^np ; Merry dancers move their feet To the music's measured beat ; Sailoi's, far away at sea, List the waves' wild melody. And round many a downy bed Loved ones weep their newly dead. Why doest thou forsake me, Sleep ? Closer to my pillow creep ; Thou hast sweet forgetfulness Of sorrow, pain and fretfulness ; Oh ! so very like thou art (Save the beating of thy heart And the coming of thy breath). So like thy twin-brother. Death. , .5 < ft '! I 176 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. Like thy brother — will he come, Robed like thee, to take me home Thou art fitful in thy clasp ; He will come with iron grasp ; Thou art gentle, soothing, mild — I have known thee fram a child ; He will come but once to me — Ah 1 when will that meeting be 1 God of midnight ! waft this hour Angels from thy star-gemmed tower ; While the clouds ir. sorrow weep, Give to Thy beloved sleep -, Night by '^ight, liiy wardens send, Till we 'mid th^ir numbers bldid, Where, on thy sweet, summer shore, Darkness '^ometh nevermore. I I ISABELLA OF VALOI&. 177 ISABELLA OF VALOIS. "King Henry and his son, Prince Henrv of Mfmm»„fi, * • ^ u eve^ means in their power to shake theconrney r; 'uL^e^ to the memory of her affianced husband, KingEichard but ix' va n " -Lives op England's Queens, s^^cnaru, butui vam. V® HE flung her mantle from her breast, ^■f Her tresses from her brow ; A child, yet girt with woman's strength, She looks on Henry now ] And the gallant Prince of Monmouth, Whose love the lady scorn'd, Stood gazing on her noble brow With jewels unadorn'd. Knights brought their bannerets to wave When the vessel should depart, But bitter thoughts and poignant grief Filled many an English heart ; And she, fair girl, had quelled the storm That o'er her spirit broke ; It was no hour for tears ; a voice Upon the soft air spoke : " I am leaving, king, for ever, The shores of England's isle ; Blessed be God that I am free From all your sin and wile ; J ^w IB 11 ml i $ 178 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. One hour, and the kinder surf My father's ship shall buoy — Another morn, and France shall greet The heiress of Valois. " Keep, keep those gaudy trinkets, Nor deeper stain thy soul With falsehood, perfidy and crime, For the value of the whole ; I should have worn those jewels With pleasure and with pride. But Richard sleeps in Westminster With An-ne by his side. '' To rob one of her treasures, Silver and land and gold — To heap foul scorn upon a king Who in his grave lies cold — To make the bowers of Havering A prison for a dove, Is the way the Prince of Monmouth Sues for a lady's love. " Farewell, proud King of Lancaster, I've not forgot the day, When, as a slave, you carried me From my husband's side awaj^ ; My husband — yes, in heart — thotjgh «<>ut; Saw bridal train or ring ; it § ISABELLA OF VALOIS. Nor waiting crowd came forth to crown The child-bride of their king. " Farewell, base King of Albion I Onerulethyetonhigh, And the stately towers of Pontefract Are pointing to the sky. Yes, cast thine eyes upon the ground- Again thy story tell, That ' Richard was by far too old To love sweet Isabel.' " Look, courtiers, on your monarch now- Knights of the swo.d and lance— Your hero dare not meet my gaze, Poor Isabel of France ; Ah ! tell it at the tournament. When pride his lip will curl, That this Henry of good England Has quailed before a girl. " I will not tell you. Englishmen, How long I sought with care To tread the path your An-ne trod,— Of love, forgiveness, prayer. Farewell, ye gen'rous Englishmen ; Beside my father's bod. The memory of your dawning love Shall ease my throbbing head." j'^fi 180 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. She turned her face towards the sea, Her feet upon the bark j The soul of that young maiden Queen With sorrow's cloud was dark. The mystery of that time must float O'er the living and the dead, Till the Judge His books hath open'd, And another book is read. If' 'If ONLY SO TIRED. > HAT is the matter with Minnie ? I do not think she is ill, But she will not run and play, She longs to be lone and still ; Doctor, what ails the darling ? — I think she is growing tall; , , ^ She has no disease I am certain ; She's only tired, that's all. " She is not like her angel mother ; You remember how pale and weak She was, but Minnie's like me ; Look at the flush on her cheek ; t i ONLY so TIRED. 181 But her little steps come feebly, Through garden, bower and hall ; If I ask her what's the matter, She's only tired, that's all. " I think that she needs a change, Shall I take her to the sea ?— The winter has been so long, 'Twould refresh bol h her and me ; Young creatures long for the spring, And the apple blossoms' fall, Minnie longs to sleep in the grass. She's only tired, that's all." — " My fi-iend, do you see that wreath Of pure and unsullied snow 1 It covered a larger space Only one hour ago ; Peep through the green-house door, At tliat rosebud sweet and mild, Tell me what ails wreath and bud, I'll tell you what ails your child." " Doctor, I know that the sun Is drawing the snow-wreath up, I see there's a gnawing worm In the rose's crimson cup ; But Minnie sings her to sleep In my arms till the robins call, ^ 182 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. She wakes me with softest kisses, She's only tired, that's all," " Ah ! rock her gently to sleep, Swans sometimes sing a song, Give her warm kisses and plenty, You'll miss the soft lips ere long ; Yes, hug her closely, don't grieve. You and I must meet such strife. If we win our crowns, my brother, After the battle of life. "The worm \h all of the earth That lies in your rosebud's cup ; 'Tis the Sun of liighteousness, friend. That's drawing your snow-wreath up ; You'll call her asleep and cold, When you see the coffin and pall, ' But Minnie '11 be wide awake. And never be tired, that's all." H».ii^ fBOZEN TO DBATU. FROZEN TO DEATH. the beU« 0t\lf\^ZZ-iZtZ '""°"' °"' ''"""°«'"« ^-'- " ;R0ZEN to death, in the pitiless air, , Pearls of ice twine in the raven hair A mother is sleeping in death's embrace, To the moon s pure light gleams the dead boy's face • The holy stars have a halo shed, ' Oil the brows of the lovely unbu'ried dead Who IS It unclaimed, and unknown by all ? Only last winter, the belle of the ball. She is no mendicant, bearing for years The lone lot of poverty, hunger and tears • No wnnkles are carved in that marble brow Which death and dishonour are claiming now • She was lovely and loving, gentle and vain, ' Pleased with the glitter of flattery's chain • Known as the star of the radiant hall, Only last winter the belle of the ball. ' They are meeting to-night in the festive room • The lamps are all lighted, the flowers all bloom • 1 here s a strain of rich song in the heated air : ' lake up the sleeper and ca.Ty her there. ll J 184 WAYSTDE FLOWERS. Who would not shrink from the passionless guest, Who would not start from that visionless rest ; Yet is one there like her, the fairest of all, Surely this winter she's belle of the ball. One is among them whose cheek may wan At the sight of that lonely forsaken one : His lips have breathed vows he would not keep. His hand mixed the poison that caused this sleep ; ]jet him gaze on his victim ; show every guest, His ring on her finger, his child on her breast ; Dishonour veils him with its dreary pall ; Not her who ^ast winter was belle of the ball. i Oh ! of all the arms that were gently wound Kound that slender waist, could not one be found To drag her back from the fatal snare. That they knew too well was stiil lurking there ; Tiiere were fathers and mothers, yet none would speak, The words that may burn on the maiden's cheek ; Yet like beacon-fires may have stayed the fall Of her who last winter was belle of the ball. Mothers have passed her and left her to die, With her helpless child, 'neath the winter sky ; And others have seen her, and turned their eyes, With the Pharibees' comfort, up to the skies. FROZEN TO DEA TIT. 185 Who met her la«t year in tl, ■ mazy dance ; Now that A sleeps 'neath th.t snowy pall Somebody else can be belle of the ball. ' i;'rozen to death, let her sleep on th, re ?!*'' tl"* '<=« falls the unbound hair • ' What have pure drapery, jewels of gold To do with a form that is cursed and cold J What has rich music and sparkling wine To do ^th the victim at tyranny's shrine ? What doth the dance with this .lod of ice 1 Man with his brother, or virtue «th vice. What have they? God knoweth, how here below Ihe wheat and the tares will together prow • A^d with Him who pitied a sinful land, ' We leave the crushed flower within His hand It may yet be found, when this dream life's o'er Transplanted in love to that better shore ; With a solace given to her wounded breast, I have not condemned thee, take thy rest » tl: 4i (MAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // :/. t/. fA 1.0 I.I 11.25 ■^ 1^ 122 as. §M lb lit I8M ^IJ4 Hiotographic Sciences Corpoiation 23 WIST MAW STteST WMSTER.N.Y. 14530 (716) 872-4503 ," ^ What would our firo* ' ^"r first greeting be ? mil 204 Wayside flowers. RAHAB. 'HEY were standing beside her, those officers, in their disguise, Come at their General's command to spy out the country. Asaph, the captain of thousands, stern lines in his fore- head Told he had borne the command when men's hearts were failing ; And led the forlorn hope in many a fearful encounter, Heber was younger, but not a less valorous soldier ; And now from the roof of the dwelling noiselessly com- ing, They stood by a window that looked toward the river of Jordan, Across the far country, where camped lay the Israelite army; And in a low whisper, lest any should hear, spoke Rahab : " Deal kindly with me. All this good land of vine and olive trees, These mountains rising up to meet the moon. These corn fields waving with their harvest load. This sod with villages and hamlets strewn, Shall all become your prey, In no far distant day ; Your military bands shall pour victorious songs. Airis, rra^t t'^^^^^^^^ The rose. I have t^H l?" "f -'"' P-^ious bloc. • For you will conauerln T '"''' """^ '^''^> Where'er your banner waves Th. . • !"'""*" ^" '■"emen's graves • ' ThehonofthetribeofJudahlrprevaU." Perhaps there is one wj „T' ^"^'-- Coming to thee in ZZ, I ' ""y^ "'''f With Lo^ZZtu:"T'' '""'^> F™- Ws dark be::ded"i' SlT'.?""^'' This our oath an'^'btSi.^'^^'^^*' Oalm.yto'„tS:;;]^;'^-'iared. And sheltered voZh ^^' "ymidons, Hadglitt.l'j::*7J'."'-f"ktryi;,hou„; , Of -a™ andVasirr;!? r:r J-nic you this hea'r'trL:;^ ''»-'' strange meet.ng and the oath youVe sworn. 206 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. But tell me, warrior, how wilt thou keep thine ? How will your armies know I am a friend, no foe ? Can I be safe amid your conquering tribes ? " " Our lives for thine. If any of our men Harm thee or thine, we'll answer for the host. Yes, this land will be ours ; and when we come With thund'ring armies upon Jordan's coast, Bind this long thread of scarlet to this frame, 'Twill be the token of a favoured name — The men will know it." " Soldiers, my father ! Grey hairs are gathering on his temple now ; He may not risk the wild crowd's trampling feet. My gentle mother ! years are on her brow. You have had mothers, soldiers ; I entreat "^ For her, and for my fair Young sisters sleeping there, And for an only brother's life I dare to ask." " All shall be thine, for we will deal with thee Kindly and truly, as thou hast with us. Fear not, the oaths that once we swear, we keep, And thou wilt keep this symbol safely, thus. Now fare thee well ; our meeting next may be Amid the clash of swords ; through battle's sea This ark rides safely." come ' ^^^^ h«»r> how she would be- Princess of Moah qu That through itn'tZZn' 'f ""' '"> '"''-. Should give Hisre/brdIoLtT"T •'--'J-t^ Nor could she know that 1. ^ "'S'^y salvation • Should be carved :„toi par 'T." '"""^ ™-<"^:; and martyrs. '^ " '"* P^Phets, apostles, :Lis«' 208 WA YSIDb FLOWERS. ; AN APOSTKOPHE OVER THE GRAVE OF BRANT. SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY SIR A. N. MACNAB, P. O. MASTER OP THE FRATERNITY OF FREEMASONS. jN to the burial, brethren, Follow your master's call, And to the mausoleum Gather ye one and all ; Gird on your emblems, brethren, Emblems of truth and might — Might that will fail us never, And truth that knows no night. On to the burial, brethren, ' A Mason resteth there, But not your loudest footsteps The lifeless form shall stir ; On with the brave dead, brethren, Calmly the ashes rest ; But the spirit is with us, brethren, And with the holy blest. On with the brave dead, brethren, Peace ! let no sound be heard ; Pause ! minute gun and sounding bell, Let our farewell be heard. AN APimmoPHE OVER THF an.^. ' — ^ __. Jl ___^ *• ''^' ^JiANT. m* Brother, our Indian Ti,.^*i ~~~ heart's throb "ol "" """^urs. nor mark our ''" Khrtor "^ ""^'^"^ -". ^- we know our with ours trod """ *''''■' ^hen thy feet Ere y^eUhyti„.e..;rn spirit pass-d to the presence Of its ^"''pS^Kr •"•'"- '-«-hen the trun,pet ^"'f?„S ''"'^^^"^'''^'«^--- who feiUn fear. '^":oit::;.jre''"^"^''-^'"-^-.toheara b: ^r ::r:te'i r^"' 'r ^ '^-^-•^ ^- > hostile crowd ' ""' ""^ '"^""S" "-■/» Lo! we ve met shJoud ''''"" '"-''''^' ^™"'-. ""' thou art in thy ^"';oXber'^^"'''-'''P--h Met that "" rtrtr "«'• ^^"^^ •^-''-'^ "- its thrilHn, '"'^tXS.r'^'^-""''^"-'^^ ''--hose voice 210 WA YSIDK FLOWERS, % f. Reached to the high Eternal One, and circled round the throne, When humtin eyes beheld thee not, as in earnest accents mild, Thou wert pleading for thy kindred of the unshorn forest wild. And, Brother, Brother, what wert thou in the wondrous history That wraps thee from the world at large in solemn mystery ? Let us who spanned the arch with thee, who at one altar bent. Who saw the holy light from far to our dark pathway lent, — Let us repeat thy generous deeds, tell of thy truth and love, Till we greet thee blest, and perfect, in a better land above. A change has come upon thy land since we spake to- gether. Chief, And tall domes rise and firm walls stand where waved the maple leaf 1 And the waters of the bay, Chief, where shot thine own canoe, Are torn with splashing iron wheels and bear rich trea- sures through ; But the hearts of those who love thee, oh ! have they like- wise changed, And^o^ne „„,t say thia requiem o'er thy noble .on „,.., But farewell, Indian Brother, we must bid thee one adieu loThr^^r ''-' '- - '° ^- - --0 ""itorriiM "'"' ''■'''■ ^'''«^' *- "•« '«" ^"'votrdir "' ""^ ^^'"^ -« ""•'^ "-en. fa. ^"'bt;:: txr """ '"^-^ '^ " '-«■• '^''"'- ^^ -^ A meek yet mighty influence that passes not as bi.a'h ■ The s^s may fa.l, the moon may die. the sun beveSed But Btmjemains as o'er thee now, Brother, the chain of Back, back, the crowd retires. Hushed is the minute gun, ' And the dead remain in silence, The father and the son ; ' ' But Canada will chronicle,' Among her deeds of right, The acta of justice done this 'day. Beneath the sun's pure light ; ' 212 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Aiid when her loyal spirits faint, Some traitor's plea to grant, Then send her sons to kneel beside The burial place of Brant. A REMEMBRANCE. Tt|)T NDER the shade of an apple tree, j^l^ Whose blossoms fell, making summer snow, A group of girls, light-hearted and free, Gathered one sunny day, long ago. Shimmering sun on the waving leaves. Shimmering sun on the tossing curls. As whiling the summer afternoon, They talked of their lovers — like other girls. One heard the murmur of rustling breeze. And caught in its whisper an earnest tone ; One, in the cataract's passionate roll;, Heard warm love told to her '^lone ; And one saw a youth with raven hair. Proudly treading his country's halls ; A RBMEMJiRANCE. One saw the light ofblue truthful eyes Beaming on her 'neath their cottage walls; One heard the rush of the wild blue sea And a mariner's voice borne many a mile • O«.o saw a martial train sweep by And the dearest sight was their' leader's smile. Under the shade of the apple tree Blossoms will fall, making summ'er snow ; But they whose hearts beat high with glee Are changed and missing, since long ago.' Oh I could we gather this afternoon Called fron, the mansion, the cot, the sea, Called from the prison house of the dead. Ice-cold lips for the coral glow ; What a change in a hw brief years • Gray hair stealing 'mid braid and curl Soft cheeks furrowed by floods of te'ars. One grows old in a southern home, 'Mid blushing roses and cooing doves • One hears the holy words of truth Down the aisles, from the lips she loves 214 WAYSIDE FLO WEBS. And one — hush ! softly her lot be named, Dark clouds oft tihadow a brilliant star, The wandering thoughts of the maniac fail To hide the God, loving near and far. And one, the loveliesi of our band — Draw a veil over the dismal scene ; We all are mortal, we all have sinned. And Christ turned not from the Magdalene. Well, what is the end "t That it matters not, If we steadily carry God's lamp of love, Up hill or down hill, 'twill all be right. When we reach the summer of life above. ^ » They fought and conquered, but the voice That led them bravely on, The tone that cheered their lion-hearts, For evermore was gone ; Yet as his life-blood flowed apace. He saw the victory won, And once more shouted as he fell, " Comrades, the foemen run " — " This way, 97th ! " He died, as many have gone down Who bear the warrior's crest. With a treasured name upon his lips. And a locket on his breast. Oh ! would ye learn how brave men fight, Go where the bravest lie. And would ye learn how fond hearts love, And how true Christians die — " This way, 97th ! " Ye who beside him fought and won. Still may ye hear the sound That from the watch, the camp, the war, Hath gone to holier ground ! The voice that failed on Russia's plain Awoke to sweeter song ; FAR BETTER. 221 And still he whispers by your side, While beckoning on your throng— " This way, 97th ! " Oh I ye throughout our lands who gird The sword upon your side. And stand prepared in danger's hour To rush in battle's tide, Scorn not to seek the light he sought. Scorn not the path he trod, Through woes to victory on earth, Then glory with his God. ' , " FAR BETTER." is far better." |t]AR better !" oh, how sweet 1^ The glance of morn, When thousand dewdrops lie On bush and thorn ; But oh ! to ope the eyes upon that shore Where storm and darkness cometh nevermore, Is far, « far better .' " inii 222 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Luscious are fruits that grow In sin-cursed mould ; Bright gleaTTifi the purple vine, The orange gold ; But oh ! to cool our parching lips with fruit That grows around the Tree of Life's best root Is far, " far better ! )} Soft are the winds that make The lilies quiver In their fair summer home, Down by the river ; But ah ! to feel new life within us fanned By the warm breezes of Emmanuel's land, Is far, " far better ! " Warm is the cheerful glow Of friendship's fire, But arms that fondly clasp May fail or tire ; Then, oh ! to close the weary eyes and rest Upon one loving and unchanging breast, Is far, "far better!" There's music in the splash Of helm and oar — There's music in the waves Kissing the shore — But oh ! to hear the harmony whose tone Hath never whispered " changed " or " lost " or " gone," Is far, " far better ! " DEATH OF KJNd HENRY //. Earth has its homes of love, Its hearts' devotion It has its graves and tears, Wars and commotion ; Tlien to start forth and cross the dreary sea ; Oh ! to " depart and with our Christ to be,"' Is far " far better ! " 223 DEATH OF KING HENRY II. ,N the shores of sunny France, the evening winds were sighing ; In the Cathedral of Chilon, Plantagenet wa* dying ; And England's beauteous Queen and England's Princes' fair. Do they watch the fainting monarch ? alas, they were not there. A sou but not an heir to the " Island of the Sea" Now clasped the sufferer to his breast and heard his dy- ing plea. ''Oh, is this death that stays my pulse and" dims my glazing eye ? Not yet, I wait to lift again my banners to the sky ; 224 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. I, who have woke the fainting heart from the torpor of dismay, Whose name has been a password — must I, too, pass away ^ Oh I Geoffrey ! son of her who loved thy monarch in his youth, The fair and gentle Rosamond, who trusted to my truth, I meet again the form 1 loved, I see your mother now. With her long bright wavy tresses across her classic brow. "Again returns the fearful time, when strong arms bear me back, When I was left among the dead, upon the battle track, When with her little trembling hand, and look of calm despair. She unclasped the iron helmet and put back the flowing hair. And unlaced the heavy corslet from the quiet blood- stained breast. Where in past hours of weariness her throbbing head would rest; I meet again the farewell glance of that too loving eye ; And must it be her son and mine, who waits to see me die? ",Wa8 it for this I planted thorns in holy Louis' breast ? And robbed him of the choicest flower that decked his regal crest ? DEATH OF KINa HENRY [J. 226 'Twas sin, although his soul woke not, his very heart was cold, To the glorious songs of Provence and the burring lays of old. He never could love Ellenore as 1 dul loep and wild ; I know thou shudderest at the name, I wonder not my child ; Was it for this I led her troops o'er sea, through rocky gorge, And blended with our English flag the banners of St. George ? " Dark be the sunshine of that morn, a blight be on the hour In which the royal castellan entered my warrior tower, And from the mail-clad army turned and murmured unto me, " King Henry of Plantagenet, a son is born to thee." My firstborn ! how he turned av/ay with heart of burn- ing strife. Yet sought forgiveness from my hand in that last hour of life ; And he, my lovely second born, my generous nation's pride — Why did he die with flag in hand, and the sword upon his side? 226 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. " Why do my children dead,thu8 stamp dishonour on their clay, And the living ones arraign themselves against me in the fray'/ Ah ! it is true, that as we plant, so we shall also reap, And evil deeds, like winged birds, come home at night to sleep. It may be that my rebel son may yet lament for me, When he looks upon the fast closed eyes he never more may see. And Coeur de Lion's tears may fall o'er dreams of child- hood joy — Oh ! might my spirit by him stand and bless the reckless boy. " Here, take this ring, my loving child, thou hast thy mo- ther's glance. That I should die upon thy breast, a fugitive in France ! Remember I have said forgiven, to those who sought my life. And EUenore of Aquitaine, my lovely erring wife — Thousands have envied me, my son, envied a broken heart — Envied the countless thorns and woes that round a sceptre start. Yet odours will be round me flung, minstrels will sweet- ly sing, DEATH OF KING HENRY II. 227 And they'll bury me in Fontevraud, wiih the burial of king." a There came a pause, a burst of tears, the cowled monks nearer trod, And Henry of Plantagenet had passed before his God ; And through the bright stained panes of glass the moon looked gently down Upon the royal brow grown pale, that yielded up its crown; And the sleeping dust, the voiceless lips could speak a loud Amen, To the yainless trust of riches, and the broken hearts of men. Yet odours rich were round him flung, minstrels did sweetly sing. And they buried him in Fontevraud, with the burial of a king. 228 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. UNDER THE SNOW. Suggested by the receipt of some early Spring Violets, gathered in their full beauty from under the snow. OT with the hot-house air around them, Wove these leaves their purple woof- Damp and darkness closely bound them, Snow and ice tici^ ^ lyroof; Yet they grew, well nursed for duty. When tempests blow. Smiling in their maiden beauty, Under the snow. Yes, their velvet cheeks were pressing Close against the sunny fold. That with its congealed caressing, Sheltered them from fierc cold ; Like some friend, whose kn / *Hiection Banisheth woe. From the hearts which seek protection Under the snow. We have looked on nature blighted. Sighed for summer days swept past. Like the mariner benighted By the storm and tempest blast ; n UNDER THE SNOW. Passing onward, little knowing That as we go, Prisoners of sweet hope are growing Under the snow. Ah ! how oft our woes we number Wrongly judging in this world, Friendship seems in gloom to slumber, Truth's bright banner closely furl'd,' Till some sunbeam's calm revealing, Sheddeth its glow. On true hearts their love concealing, Under the snow. Are we not like summer flowers ? Youth and childhood pass away ; Leaves are falling from the bowers '; Care and toil make up the day. Hea\y rains and frost-winds teach us Trouble to know. Courage ; God's warm breath can reach us Under the snow. Mourner, hast thou laid no treasures, With the mould upon each breast ? While the rough wind takes its pleasures, They are in a dreamless rest ; 229 230 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Cease those swoU'ii eyes from weeping, Buried so low, God will keep His darling sleeping Under the snow. Farewell Spring's first violet, Thy sweet work of love is o'er ; In the angels' alphabet, Thou hast spoken of that shore Where the quenchless sun burns stronger, Life in its glow ; Flowers bloom, but bloom no longer, Under the snow. FESTIVAL OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST. '• The fire shall ever be burning ; it shall never go out."— Bible. THOUSANDS of hearts to day Will interchange the grasp of Friendship's hand, Will round Love's altar celebrate their vows, The Altar whose bright fire ne'er burns out, The Altar at whose shrine the weary bows, And rises nerved for strife, FESTIVAL OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST 231 In the fierce war of Life. Strong for the battle. Love's fire ne'er goes out ; Change and transition round its altar pa'^s • They breathe upon its gold, its brightness dim But vanish as the breath-stain from the glass Or dew drops from the rose leafs delicate rim ; Noontide and day and night, Burns on the holy light. It goes out, never. " It never shall go out : " Time has rejoiced at his spoliations made O'er classic temple and the sculptured fane. The lip of beauty and the arm of strength— Ah ! he can triumph o'er his thousands slain ; One shrine he dare not drench ; One flame he cannot quench ; It goes out, never. " It never shall go out :" 'Twas shadowed in Creation's glorious light It flashed in the bright cherub's flaming sword It glowed in the red bush on Horeb's mount ' It gleamed m stately column on the horde Of pilgrims hastening on. From dreary Egypt gone ; It goes out, never. 232 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. " It never shall go out : " Its rays came down in sweet acknowledgment Of builders' work, when Hiram, King of Tyre, s2mon, and the widow's son, and thousands more, In the new temple felt the hallowed fire- To-day such friends have met. Such fire gleams o'er them yet, It goes out, never. For they are building on ; Level and square and chisel yet are found, Sened and bright for use, while f-^\^^^^ Changed from rough ashler to the polished shaft, Rises unheard to God and to St. John. No sound of hammer falls. While through the world's wide halls The house is building. Saint John the Baptist, if In thy bright home of glory, thou dos see The hosts that breathe to-day thy cherished name, What will thy message to each votary be 1 One thou hast sent before 1 oh, yes, the same : « There cometh very nigh. One mightier than I, Preferred before me." Saviour we humbly bow, Trembling because Thou art that One, Alone ; Trasting because Thou art our Brother Friend • In faith we ask for that biest fire of We ' Upon our hearts' rude altar to descend ' Till from Heaven's blazonry And faultless masonry, We pass out, never. mnVAL OF ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. ^ELOVEDStJohn, ^ou brightest star among the chosen twelve . Aj.d We briS.::;rg,rdr ™ '"«-' With Him in toil and care. With him in song and prayer. Holy St. John. Favoured St. John, Well may'st thou know the " voice l,k» „, That spake with thee in PatmoTw/i"?' "'"'" And showed thee lands beyond the line of ^aves Where trees of verdure smile- Thou who didst take thy rest' o 234 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Upon thy Saviour's breast, Favoured St. John. Thy name, St. John, Hath been a password unto warrior bands ; Victors have breathed it on their homeward march. And brave knights stricken down in foreign lands Have looked to heaven's blue arch, And told thy name to death, Murmuring with dying breath, God and St. John. Mystic St. John, The Templar and the pilgrim are at rest ; And Knights of Malta sleep in plain and sea, With their red crosses mouldering on their breast ; Yet far in Galilee, Through holy Palestine, Is carved on many a shrine- God and St. John. Loving St. John, Shall we forget thee, now thy name floats not Upon our banners in the day of strife 1 No, thy sweet voice shall cheer our lonely lot. The star-beam of our life, Our light 'mid cloud and mist, Holy Evangelist, J,oving St. John. FESTIVAL OF ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST 235 God of St. John, Look on us in Thy mercy while we kneel Lone pilgrims from afar, pleading with Thee • Winds from the chilly north around us steal, ' Tempest is on life's sea ; Pour through the sky above, Light from the Source of Love, God of St. John. God of St. John, Keep from us if it pleaseth Thee the fire Of Peter and St. Matthew's ready pen • The cloven tongue j the heaven-attuned lyre • Savior- of sinful man, ' Let loA to us be given, To win us up to heaven- Home of St. John. 23(i WAYSIDE FLOWERS. THE BATTLE OF RIDGEWAY. .^ And God said, 'Have not I commanded theer only be strong and of a good courage. ' "-Bible . God to lus soldiers spake Upon Jordan's coast, The true in heart, the strong in faith, An undaunted host. So God to His soldiers spake Along Erie's land, The true in heart, the strong in faith, An undaunted band. Then came the arming in haste, And the farewell borne From the loving hearts all suffering there On that bright June morn. On, on, through the weary march With a fearless tread ; They went, though they knew before them lay The path of the dead. When suddenly came the foe. The skulking wolf-hound ; From thence the path of the Volunteer Became holy ground j THE RATTLE OF RlDQEWAY. 237 Bravely they struck the blow ; Out their fires burst, To tell the Fenian horde our word Is "Union Jack first." No veteran soldiers there, Nor warriors of merit ; All the glory was left for our Brave boys to inherit. Never before had they seen Their comrades lying Stricken down in their manhood's pride, The dead and the dying. Never had stood in the storm, When war was raging , Nor felt the bullets like haii In battle's raging ; Yet calmly and steadily on Poured their deadly fire,— Oh! brave -Queen's Own," Oh ! gallant " 13th," Shall your fame expire ? There was help almost at hand,— Artillery crashing ; Regiments of soldiers, armed to the teeth, To combat dashing. WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Almost at hand ; oh, the thrills Of hope and despair, That swayed those heroes' loyal hearts, In that hour of care. Whoever erred, we know That those Christian knights Went with an army of heaven-sent prayers To those deadly fights ; Given in our churches' walls To the Lord ^ Hosts, Given up our h ' best sacrifice To the foe-trod coasts. And God has taught the world, In the Ridgeway battle. That not alone by the ball and sword And artillery's rattle, Can He save j but by the might Of His own strong power. That nerved the "Queen's Own " and the gallant "13th" To the victory hour ! wmsmi THE BRlDEaROOM\H ItEVERIE. 1 239 THE BRIDEGROOM'S REVERIE. I 'M very sad to-night, Ellie; , The memory of the past Is muttering through my aching heart Like murmurs of tlie blast. I'm thinking of the years, Ellie, The happy years long fled , But tears are on my cheek, and thou Art with the quiet dead. I'm threescore years to-day, Ellie, And there tarries at my side A beautiful and gentle form— A seventeen summers' bride— Her golden curls float listlessly Around her neck of snow, And the tones of that impassioned voice Are musical and low. But I turn from that fair child, Ellie, To the graveyard's silent gloom. And would freely barter life and love For the silence of thy tomb ; I miss the hand that, beacon-like, Pointed to upper skies ; ^0 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. I miss the soul which earnestly Looked forth in thy dark eyes. There are courtly guests at home, EUie ; The lamps shine in the halls, And the sounds of mirth and melody Ring round my stately walls ; And men have praised to-night, EUie, The music's joyous thrill, The rich parterre, the sculptor's art, The painter's cunning skill. But the sweetest sounds to me are winds That through these willows wave, And the choicest garden I possess Are the flowers on thy grave ; And the softest couch I seek, EUie, Is thy green and grassy bed. And my choicest piece of sculptured art Is the marble at thy head. They filled the festal cup, EUie, And o'er the flashing wine They praised the lovely girl I won To deck the marriage shrine ; WUl God forgive me— o'er that child No smile of love I shed, THE BRILEGROOM\^ REVERIE. 241 For I drank in solemn silence To the memory of the dead. When 1 brought my child-bride home, Ellie, The home that once was ours, She praised the decorated rooms, The birds, the founts, the flowers ; But one sweet portrait from our walls Had vanished by that night, And she told me, with a fond caress, She hid i*, from my sight. Ah ! did the poor child think, Ellie, That you and I could part ? Ah ! 'lis a sinful thing to give The hand without ihe heart. Good-bye ! meet me in dreams, Ellie- Nerve me to bear my lot, Till I meet thee in that land, Ellie, Whose dwellers '< marry not." '-^' m ^ i ii ^42 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. PASSETH AWAY. ** The fashion of this world passeth away." WAY ! tall trees bend down And flowers die, Rocks from the mountain fall, Stars from the sky ; Footsteps are hushed that trod the mazy dance, Eyes that were bright with beauty's sparkling glance, Are closed to-day ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." Who wears the envied crown Of deathless power ? Hark ! they are crashing down, Temple and tower ; A tarnish on the soldier's glittering sheath, A mould upon the snowy bridal wreath. Signs of decay ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." let we dress dust with gold. Oh, foolish gilders, — And build on heaving sand, Oh, reckless builders ; I*ASSETH AWAY. 243 And meteors dance before us, and we try To catch the starbeam, then exhausted lie And lose the day ; ' Owning, « the fashion of this world Passeth away." What's this world's friendship like ? A poisoned token. The flattery of vain lips ; A goblet broken ; What IS there to repay the heart's fond dream ? i^loweth there nowhere an untainted stream ? Is all decay ? For oh, « the fashion of this world Passeth away." Oh ! source of every good, Father above. We bless Thee for Thy gift, Undying love ; A tree, that heavy tempest cannot drench : A flame, that « many waters cannot quench,'' 'Tis heaven's own ray ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." Music's sweet sounds are thine. Thou better land ; Here, love and music need A guiding hand. 244 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. The bee within the sweetest flower -"ill pain, And the crushed fruit, although so sweet, will stain. Father, we pray ; For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." Up to Thy dwelling-place. Redeemer, take us ; Where Thy soft tones of love. From sleep shall wake us. Spotless to walk among Thy heavenly gardens ; Sinless to dwell beside Thy angel wardens. "Why this delay 'i For oh, " the fashion of this world Passeth away." 1 i i i « EMPLOYMENT IN HEAVEN. 245 EMPLOYMENT IN HEAVEN. wh^awS youi:^ '^" "^ ^'^^«^^-' -P^^^-t in Wen, LITTLE while to rest, A soft refreshing sleep, And wake to meet dear 'loving eyes. That never more shall weep ; To see the sunny smile That set in life's eclipse ; To feel their glowing hands in mine, Their breath upon my lips. A little while to twine Fresh roses, thornless flowers • To walk without one trembling fear Among the shady bowers. A little while to viev/ My mansion built above ; A little while to learn the joy Of never-ending love. A little while to walk The city saints hare trod, To bow, a being lost, redeemed, Before the Throne of God; To try the faultless tones, My harp's melodious strain, 246 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. Joining the chorus of the blest, " Worthy the Lamb once slain." A little while, and then — // / may, take my crown. And harp, and at my Saviour's feet Lay them in safety down ; Then, by the Warder taught, At the ever open gate, The passwords back to that bright land Where broken households wait. Leaving those jasper walls, Seek regions of Despair, Down to the haunts of Sin and Death, Again to enter there ; To whisper to the sad Soft words of hope and love ; To point the fainting, falling one, To rest and light above. To stand unseen beside The newly-covered bier ; To calm the little orphan's heart, To dry the widow's tear ; To check the rising oath. On lips that ought to pray j To check th' upraised avenger's arm, And teach " a better way," EMPLOYMENT /A HEAVEN. 247 To go where the dear Lord Went ere His task was done • To "spirits bound in prison fast,"' Preaching of victory won ; ' To lead, «// may lead, Through mists and shadows dim One poor strayed soul of human form' Back to the light and Him. This I would choose my task, Till Sin and Death are dead • Until the mediatorial work Is fully finish-ed. Then for th' eternal years, No winter ever chills • I have no choice, be that whate'er My loving Saviour wills. 248 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. LAKE ONTARIO AT SUNSET. ^j HOU art rolling on, Ontario, [y^. Leaving the pebbly beach ; The fisher's sail just marks thy waves Far as the eye can reach ; Night veils thy distant waves — Sunset is going away — O, let us watch with thee to-night ; Leave thee ere dawn of lay. Hast thou no song to sing Of olden Indian times 1 Of Chieftains in their birch canoes That listened to thy chimes 1 Hast thou no tales of blood That mingled in thy flow 1 No memories of the hallowed past Within thy caverns low 1 Ah ! the white man doth claim * The land once free as thou ; They've bought and sold on either side — The woods before them bow ; They may come down and gaze Into ft y waters cold ; Thou'lt waft their treasures — give them graves- Thou art not bought for gold. LAKE ONTARIO AT SUNSET. Thou hast laved the burning bark ^ Down m thy treasured hold : Ihe sailor sleeps within thy arms^ The child with locks of gold Earth has her signs of death Her graves, her marble stone Her crosses by the lone way-side ; ' Thou hast how many? None! Thou art gentle in thy smiles, Like a conqueror at play • The sportive children venture far Into thy rolling spray. Thou'rt fearful in thy pride f To join thy numbers sweet JNiagara above thee rolls— St. Lawrence at thy feet. We love to see thee thus, ... ?P^fli°g with sunbeams bright- So like the loving and the loved Meeting at morn and night : We love to see thy waves ^ise as they're rising now. To feel thy billows at our feet. Thy baptism on our brow. We leave thee, heaving lake, To thy moonlight and thy'sky, 260 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. The flute's soft note, the splash of oars, Ere another day goes by. 0, for those deathless waves, 0, for that country won, Where the weary rest, where " moonlight's po'ver, Music and love, are one." QUEEN VICTORIA AT THE NUPTIALS OF HER SON. " Who called thee strong as Death, O, Love, Mightier thou wast and art." — Hemans. JkJ HERE was pomp and regal beauty. The glittering of gems, The flashing of the jewelled crowns, The light of diadems ; Collars of gold and gleaming swords Shone amid robes of state, Where all that head and hands devise On Albert Edward wait. There were Denmark's royal princes, And fair and gentle ones. There were England's martial veterans, And England's stalwart sons ; QVEEN VICTORIA AT THE NUVTIALU OF HElt SON. m And loyally and proudly Beat hearts amid the scene ; But oh ! through all the pageantry, Where was our English Queen ? The hand that wields the sceptre, The form that fills the throne, Why stays she from the gorgeous throng, A woman, and alone ? Why flits the smile so sad and sweet, As with a w«^ight oppressed ? Why is the heart so strongly schooled Within that widowed breast ? She fears not that the traitor Lurks in her loving host ; She knows that strength anil faitljfulness Guard well her rock-bound coast, She glances on her first-born son, She hears their plighted vows ; Where by him Alexandra, Child of the sea kings, bows. What thought the Queen Victoria, A silent watcher there ; When the flower of British chivalry Paid homage to her heir 1 When all this earth calls beautiful Passed by with joyous tread, 252 WAYSIDE FLOWERS. 'Mid the gathering of her loving ones, Her thoughts were on her dead. Why, 'mid the burst of anthems, When the thrilling music rolls, Fell tears from those fair princesses ? What stirs their gentle souls ] Is it not enough for them — The beauty of those flowers. The joyous thrill of melody. The homage of those hours ? Yes, yes ; but what wore jewels. What the array that swept Around them as the memory woke Of him who calmly slept 1 They heeded not the g;izing crowd, In that blest hour of pride, When the music woke anew to life, For Albert Edward's bride. They thought, those weeping daughters, Of the pulseless hand that penned The festive strains that gloriously To vaulted roofs ascend. They thought that moment of the thorns Strewn in life's wilderness — Their widowed mother stood alone, And they were fatherless. Knights of the glowing orders, Soldiers who watchful wait • True patriots and star-gemmed peers, Ihat nobly prop the State ; Tell us if in the time to come, Of England's hopes and fears, You will deem her glory sullied ■By woman's loving tears ? Angels to earth which minister, Melius, with vow and prayer, earned ye not the casket back Of tear-drops gathered there ? JJid ye not find a fadeless flower Who called the strong as Death, O Love, Mightier thou wast and art " ^^ mmm 264 WA YSIDE FLOWERS. THE PILGRIM'S SONG OF CONFIDENCE. " I \\rill tnist and not be afraid." — Bible. Y path is in the wilderness, My way is in the desert wild, And dreary wastes and loneliness Mingle with rocks, in terror piled ; Yet One has promised He will guide To lands whose treasures have no rust ; I have upon His strength relied — Can He sustain me 1 "I will trust ! " My path is through the waters cold, And billows rise on every side ; I hear the noise where breakers rolled — I feel their overpowering tide ; A hr.nd is on the flowing mane Of ocean's charger — halt it must — One holds the breakers' bridle-rein, And can He curb them ? " I will trust ! " The noontide sun is high in heaven, Its rays are bending o'er my brow ; No streamiet 'mid this sand is given — No green oasis near me now ; Nearer it comes — the siroc storm — Scorching and burning is its dust ; Yet I saw One in human form — The Good Physician—" I will trust ! " THE PILGRIWS SONG OF CONFIDENCE. The evening cometh ; I would rest, And in forgetfulness repose, But rain-drops stream un.. , my breast, Forbidding my wo i e>. . to close ; Yet 'mid the tempect's iio.jow moan The lightning's glare, the whirlwind gust, I surely heard a soft, lo y tone— I know its whisper—" I will trust ! " As on my weary way I passed, A bright star lit my midnight sky • I prized its beauty— but a blast With heavy clouds went sweeping by— A voice came murmuring from above, 'Mourner, yield not to sad mistrust • Again shall gleam that star cf love, ' Fond and for ever/' "I will trust! " Oh I can it be there waits on high A mansion now prepared for me? And can I bear each weary sigh Until those golden gates I see ? Can He who loves preserve from harm Ke-animate my mould'ring dust Fold me within His shelt'ring arm's, Happy for eve- ? " I will trust I " 256 THE END, m ■^