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Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le CBs: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". IVIaps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diegrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc.. peuvent dtre filmAs A des taux de reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grend pour fttre reproduit en un seul clichA. ii est film6 A partir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A drolte, et de heut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 "k I-RANKINCHNSB AM) MYKK[1, SELECTIONS FROM THE POEMS OF THE LArs MRS. WILLIAM LAVVSON, (.M.J. K. IJ SELECTED AND EDITED BY HARRY PIERS AND CONSTANCE FAIRBANKS. " I lay before your feet My gold, and frankincense, and myrrh, gifts that are bitter-sweet. Their bitterness is all mine own, from memory's leaves distilled, With the full sweetness of the draught your cup of life he filled !" M. J. K. L. HALIFAX, N. S. : CVIORTOIM & OO. 1893. L? f S »-^i.'i' fjer, ISI.'J. Her mother was a Nova S.oiian, a granddiiuj:hter of Dr. Jonathan i'rcscott, of MassaclnisetLs, wh(» came to Nova Scotia and settled there witli otiiur New Kn;4land LoyaliMts. Through him the family clainii) relatiou»lii|) with tlie his- torian I'rescott. From a very early age, Mary Katzmann «howed unusual intelligence and signs of that love for literature which always characterized her She could read ut the age of three, and from that time devoured eagerly the limited number of books which were at her flispnsal in Maroon Hall. Scott's 'J'alcs of a Grandfather and C/utDihi'ru'K Journal were her especijl favourites. Owing to the remoteness of the country district in which she lived, educational advantages M'ere few ; and, save for the help given l)y her own family she was almost entirely self-taught. Her (juiokuess of per- ception and wonderful memory no doubt compensated to a great extent for the lack of other advantaj,'es. As she advanced in years, she published short poems from time to time, and afterwards became a iii,'ular conti ilmtor to various periodicals and newpapers, including the Culonht, the J'cconl, and the ihiardiaii. For two years she edited the Piorinriid Maiiazim , one of the earliest of its kind published in Halifax. For tiiis she wrote "' Talcs of our VI UICMiKAl'IIK.'AL SKKTC'II. Village, "—sketches of the early history of lUrtinouth and Preston interwoven with local tnulitions. She invariably signed all she wrote with her initials, M. J. K., and by this sonbriquet became well known to all her friends. She was married in 1809 to William Lawson, Esq , of Halifax, in which town she was then living. After her marriage, her time was largely given to work among the poor, and to social and benevolent schemes, particularly those connected with the Church of England, of which she was a devoted member. She preserved to the end of her life that love for literary work which she had early dis- played, and any event of interest in the community was sure to call forth sympathetic lines which were now signed with the initials M. J. K. L. In 1887, she obtained the Akins Historical Prize of King's Collejje, Windsor, for her Hihiory of thi' ToH'iixhipH oj Dartmouth, PreHtov, antl Lawrencelown, which shall come from the press immediately. She died at Ha ifax, on Sunday, '23rd March, 1800, after several week« of painful illness, leaving one child, a daughter. Slie was a nu)8t valuable friend, ready always with sympathy and practical haip in time of trouble, and grudg- ing neither time nor strength when needed. The following remarko, madt^, after her death, at a meeting of the Churuh- womans' Missionary Association in Halifax, well express the loving appreciation of her many friends : — " She was so (|uick to please, si courageous to execute, so full of expodient.s, and so undaunted in ditfioulties, that we all naturally looked to her for guidance when our way seetnud dark and our plans threatened with failure ; and we never looked in vain. While full health was r member of the church has lost an open handed friend, many a sick member will miss a loving comforter, and many a f^ood work be deprived of powerful support." INDEX. Abel ••*«■• All Saints, 1874... *'^ " " I8HI. ..','.. ■■.■*■■;*' "^' Anthony Trollope '''^ •' Atliintic," The. . . ...,......'..'.' ^"^ Centenary of Burns *^ Christmas Memories.... " Church Bells ^^ Dying Words of Lord Nelson ...... .'.,'.'.'.'. '. 1 Epithalamium Kve of the Annunciation ,.„ Face in the Cathedral. ,00 Father Damien From the German ^ Gordon '''^ 1 O"* " He that is slow to anger." ' ' Hebrews IV. 9 ^ " Hungarian," The ' . '.* *_ '"^ In Memory of Bishop Binney ,^! In Memory of Mrs. J. J. R .' James A. Garfield / Lahave River ^''^ Legend of St. Ogg ~^ Legend of St. Rupert ... . ^^^ Maiden's Complaint ^If Margaret Floyer ' " Mayflowers ' "^ Midnight, Dec. 3Ist, 1882. , ,ff Mute ^26 X- . 82 Aannie ... o., Nannie's Last Sleep * 17 I ■■■ Till ISDKX. PAOi Now Year, The *^ I'almiatry f" PaHsage Ovor, The '•' ' Qrili ^ ill iieou, llie Rainbow, The '° Ria«r ami the Lake ''^ «. ... 3U Sailing Separated Septeinher '2r)th, 1870 '^f 177« and IHOO •'*'; Sir John Iiig'.ia '^ Snow ' Some Day Song of the Morning Soug of the Night '] The Two Oraves ^'j'' The Two Muses ^' '^ To L. N. B. B ^"•' ''0 Valley of tl.e ( Jaspereiuix - Water in the Wilderness. . .. ''"^ Welcome to the Prince of Wales ^^ mmmmmmm I FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. SOXG OF THE MOHXIKG, I come on pinions of gol.len light To break the bars of the gloomy night; I rouse from slumber the sons of eaHh,' And wake the blaze on each household heartli ; I oall to action, and work, an.l strife, To busy toil, and to rush of life ; Strange mingling of sorrow aiul joy arc borne To the hearts of men l)y the voice of ^lorn. The factory child and the seamstress pale, Their weary hearts at my coming quail ; ' ^Vith aching eyelids they greet the light Which breaks the sleep of the quiet night. The restless si)irit is glad to see ^e^y strength for its tireless quest in me ; The gay and the glad to j-leasure wake. As the golden rays of the Morning brelk. -r FRAXKINCENSID AND MYRUII. The weary sufferer turns to greet With joy the glance of my rosy feet ; While the sons of labour sigh to see The renewal of daily toil in me. A different tale I hear to each Of the myriad toilers I come to teach ; And none may (juestion and none may scorn The gifts that lie in the clasp of Morn. I come to Nature with quickening glance, And fill with beauty her broad expanse ; The flower opens its dewy breast, As the kiss of my sunshine stoops to rest. Old Ocean lifts its hoary waves And my light laughs down to its cool, dark caves ; W^hile ancient forest and lonely stream, Wake up and rejoice in each glorious beam. I come, and Earth's great pulses thrill With a mighty force and an iron will ; Its ceaseless noise and restless strife, Strange echoes bear from the rush of life. The smoke that curls from each cottage home, The merry voices when children come. The workman's din, and the martial horn, With clash and clatter, salute the Morn. SOXG OF MGIIT, 3 I come as a token of liolicr thing.s My message is sent l.y tiie KingVf Kings ; I b'ealc up tlK, cuivnu-nt. „n.i .Jeath of x\ight, An.l waken tlie sleej.ing to life and light. And thus shall the S,,irit rend the gbom And hreak the rest of the lonely touib, Till each silent sleeper to heaven is borne, lu the light of the Resurrection Morn. 1850. •<■ — so2;g of sight. I come from the depths in my ebon robe. ^^'inding its folds round the silent globe • I^nnging cool dews to the drooj.ing flower Giving to-Xature a resting hour. I come with slumber, and calm, and peace Tod folds its hands as the echoes cease ; 1 hoJd the restless in gentle thrall,— But I come not with blessing and peace to all. The idle, the vain, and the evil see A veil for their craft and their sins in me ; Beneath my silence, and mantle grey, The ruffian seeks his lawless prey. ^-^11! FRANKIXCEXSE AND MYKRH. The fierce debauch, and the guilty deed, Find in my shadow the cloak they need ; And many a wild and unhalloweil rite Makes darker still the solemn Night. To the sufferer laid on a bed of pain, I come with a phantom and mocking train ; Scaring away from the eyes that weep, The gentle seal of the touch of sleej). The heart recoils from the ghost-like tread Of moving shadows and shapes of dread, Till the weary soul and the tired sight Long for the Morning's golden light. I come with conscience, remorse and fear, Till the false heart quails at the record there ; I open the book of the darkened past. Where memory rules an empire vast ; And the humblest spirit strives to still The voices that ri.se at my judgment will, Till it cowers condemned in its lonely fright From the secrets unveiled by the searcher Night, I come with holier things than these, — As a priest I hallow life's mysteries ; I come with repentance, and praise, and prayer, Sweet voices that thrill through the listening air. SONO OP NIGHT. I come with beauty, and calm, and rest, To tired pilgrims a holy guest ; With dreams of love, ar.d hopes loveliest things, Tor the young hearts slumbering beneath my wings. All Nature has temples and altars fair, And I am the i)riestess who ministers there ; My lamps are the holy stars above, Pure vestals of beauty, and praise, and love. My vigil hymn is the low-voiced breeze, As it sighs through the leaves of the watching trees ; And the prayer that is asking for help and light, Is Iieard in the hush of the holy Night. I849. Nisht, ''He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." — Proverbs. The conqueror bears upon his shield Red trophies from a well-fought field ; And trumpet peals, and crowns of fame, The hero's victory proclaim. Skilled in the art of war, his sword Has reaped in battle great reward ; {.J ~^ .^.t^mMmmmm ~ FRANKINCEN'SE AND MYRRH. Before his banner, foo8 have bowed, As flowers before a tempest cloiul ; And yet, though glory binds his brow, And thousands bend in homage now, A mightier conqueror still than he Moves calmly on in rivalry. What wins the Avarrior by his toil 1 A vanquished city's shining spoil, Strongholds which long the foe withstood, Ruined by lire and stained with blood. Might, and not right, may win the day ; The panoply of war's array May gleam upon a breast of sin, Weakness autl weariness witiiin. The rival con(|Ufror who shares The brightest trophy glory bears, Is he who firmly can control Tiie passion of the hunian soul. I I f i I I I The city's strongest walls may yield To warriors on a battle iield ; Tactics and skill may overthrow The wiliest snare of wilv foe ; IJut he who rules his stormy heart. When passion claims a stormier part. CHUFlCrr DELI.S. 'Who snfely curbs its treacherous M-ill, Is greater tliaii the warrior still. ]!esi(le such conquest, all the fame Circled arouud the warrior's name, ^Felts like the coMer luie away From reddening clouds at break of day. CnUnCII BELLS. 1S49. The bells, tlie b.dls, the old churcli bells, A sacred and melodious sound. To sea and land their summons tells That earth to-day is hallowed ground. They fall upon the listening ear. Like tidings from a world above, As earth and heaven alike can hear, The dia])ason of tht-ir love. They mingle sweetness with the air, They give to holiest feelings birth ; They sound, and thou.'^ands come to i)rayer, From stately hall, and cottage hearth. n 8 FKANKINCKNSB AXD MYRRH. A holy influence fills their peal, Touching the wanderer far abroad ; Ho hears, he enters in to kneel, And offers homage unto God. The prodigal, whose straying feet Have wandered from their Father's fold. Hears in their language, pure and sweet, A message from the days of old ; And memory mingling with the bell, Recalls to him his early years ; He hears, and melted by the spell. His contrite heart returns in tears. ill! I A link between the earth and heaven, The music of the church bells here. By heaven anointed, blessed and given, To bring the fainting pilgrims near ; To make within the answering breast The melody of prayer and praise. And whisper of that glorious rest Where God's own people anthems raise. And hard indeed the erring heart, Which will not thrill and yield to these. As telling of the better part. They chime out heaven's own mysteries. THE SNOW. 9 Dear sound to lead us back to God ! The eye grows dim, the spirit swells : Up from His footstool, earth's green sod. Love answers back the dear church bells. 1850. -« ♦ ■ THE SNOW. \\'^ It comes, the fair unsullied snow, In flakes of feathery guise, Until the sleeping earth below In bridal raiment lies. From out the soft clouds, fresh and fair, In mazy chase they stream ; Like fleecy messengers of air, The shining snow-flakes seem. Each forest tree is fringed with light, The branches droop below. Rough mound and rugged slopes are white In fleecy robes of snow. It comes ! and earth is hushed to rest ; The muffled raiment given. Is wrapped around her frozen breast, From out the storm-clouds driven, — 1 1^ 10 FRANK I.VCEX.SK AND MYRIUI. Soft ns the bird's soft breast of down, "NVhicli cleaves the summer air; White as thfi whitt'U"SS resting on The robes tlie sainted wear ! lienoath the sturry vault of night, A glory seems to fall, Of ambient and eternal light, Upon this ermine pall. And far from stain, and free from soil, So purely seems to glow. The perfect robe, unwrought by toil. Of winter's soft white snow ! 1S50. THE liATNBOW. Fair bow ! whose soft tints on the southern sky linger, In loveliness traced by the Deity's finger I On the blue scroll of heaven a bfiautiful token Of a promise, remaining for ages unbroken. Still speaking of love, Avhieh change cannot alt-T, Of care and protection, whicli never can falter, Of Him who is heard in the thunder's fierce hour. Yet who whispers to man in tlie lowliest flower. nil 1 . ii THE HAINBOW. 11 Like n bird tliat brink's hope on its beautiful jiiiiious, From enrtli's fairest, niul brightest, and furthest dominions, Is the rainbow to us. In its radiance is given A pledge, and a promise, a message from heaven. "When Time was an infant, this crescent of glory Beheld the young earth rise and heard itft glad story ; And it shines to us now, like a scroll from past a^cs God's message of love on its exquisite pages, When the tempest is roused, and the waters have risen ; When the floods lift their heads and leap out from their prison ; The Creator is still to His children inclininrr And we rest in His love while the rainbow is shining. 1S50. 12 FIIANKINCRNSE AND MTRRn. DYING WORDS OF LORD NELSON. " I thank God I have done my duty !" Loud roared the mighty cfinnon, The furious notes of war, Amid the dashing breakers Of the bay of Trafalgar ; "Where Britain's gallant sailors, For liritain's glory fought, And the red-cross banner floated O'er dreadful carnage wrought. Home went each winged death shot. To many a foe man's heart, Till a host of noble warriors Had fought life's latest part ; But there came a sweeping broadside Which shook the gallant dock, And the flower of Britain's sailors Lay dying 'mid the wreck. That shot called forth the life-blood, As it rent the trembling air, Of the hero of the battle, The master spirit there ; DYING W()HD8 OF LOIII) XEI.HON. 13 And Nelsoii'H voice wns silent, As they l)()ro Iuh form nway From the sctsne of fourful combat Wliicli marked tliat j^lorions day. Rest for the warrior spirit, Cahn for the victor's breast ; He is sleeping on his laurels, By his grateful country 1)le.sf.('d. Such visions jjassed around him, As his fainting voice was heard, Contrasting strangely with the tones Which gave the rallying word. li ,ji With e])bing strength he murmured : " Thank God tliat I have done My duty," — with these dying words, Down went liis glorious sun. And a silent calm was sleejjing On the hero's pallid face. While the death-frauglit guns were booming Above his resting place. Leave, leave that life unquestioned, The sphere beside the hearth, Where man puts off the hero 'Mid humbler things of earth. i\ \ 1 U FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. This life hath other duties Tliiin those of lance and sword, And may we not judge the spirit By the conqueror's dying word ? November, 1S52. NANNIE. So sleep at last hath found thee, My little blue-eyed girl, And softly does the summer wind Stir each fair golden curl. Tears are still trembling on thy cheek, The tears of baby grief, Yet smiles play round thy rosy mouth- Thy trouble hath relief ! Sleep on, thy sleep of innocence, gentle baby girl ! For life to thee is still a land Whose walls are gold and pearl ; And dreams, if e'er they visit thee, Can never be so fair As what thy heart will picture life Before thy day of care. ;iii- '52. NANNIE. How calm thy blue- veined infant brow, How pure thy liappy smile, As tlioiigh an angel's touch had left Bright impress for awhile. Oh ! temi)le of the Holy Light "Which God to earth has given, Keep pure the chambers of thy soul, And keep them fresh for heaven ! 15 I A little waywaid, laughing child, "When waking seeniest thou ; But here aglee}), a holiness Looks upward from thy brow : And such a solemn feeling steals Forth through the silent room, I cannot analyse its depths Of beauty and of gloom. fit t! There is no i)rojihesy of life Upon thy little face. Only a winning tenderness Of innocence and grace. Sleep on, thou precious little lamb Of home's most tender fold, The hopes of life seem bound in thee, Though scarcely three years old. m 16 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRII. blossom, fold thine aii-el Aviiigs, And keep them near thy heart; Amid life's care, and pain, and sin, Be thine the better part. Thou art a bud, a gem, a bird, O blossom, shine, and sina, But keep thine early innocence As life's sole precious thing ! Sleep on thy soft and balmy sleep. Thy little cares are still. And quiet beauty Ijathes thy form Like sunshine on a rill. Rich in three year's exj.erience. With love and kindness laden, Hath earth aught fairer than thyself. Dear little blue-eyed Maiden ? September, 1S5S. I p>iL naxnib's last sleep. 17 ^'ANXIIPS LAST SLEEP. Ijeneath the fever's wasting grasp, IJrojithing her life a-.vay, Unconscious of love's fondest clasp, Our little darling lav. She with whose life our own seemed blent, The sunshine of her home, The rainbow arch, that o'er us bent, Of promise and of bloom. Yet there she lay— a dying child ; Dim were the deep blue eves Where thought and gladness blending smiled, 80 child-like, yet so wise. I-ike marble was the earnest brow Where fell her cuils of light, Oh, God ! we almost marvel now That we could bear such siuht. m • H ■ ( ■ . Three little days, and she had been So full of health and life, A song-bird in earth's desert scene, A charm to soothe its strife. 2 m n 18 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. And now we watclu'd lier dying there, That flower of lovely bloom ; God would not hear the heart's wild prayer, But called our cherub home. Beneath delirium's fevered trance She knew not those who wept, Xor recognized one loving glance That Avatched her as she slept. The little heart with love so warm, N'er thrilled to kiss nor word ; "We only held the breathing form, A harp with broken cord. Long had she lain in silence there. Deaf to each word of ours ; And death stole softly through the air As dew on twilight Howers ; When one she loved the best bent down, And whispered words of love. Whose very tenderness of tone Might win her from above. The little voice found utterance then. Though not to answer him ; For things too bright for mortal ken Met then her vision dim. liu Nannie's last sleep. *' Open the door !" broke from her lijjs, Three times distinct and clear ; Ah ! oven then, through death's eclipse, The gates of heaven wore near. 19 Her last earth words ! And full of tliought That sentence soomed to be ; The angels gave the boon she sought, Quick immortality ! For soon the gates of light unclosed, To that bright little one, A glory on her face reposed, And we were left alone. ' ?■! Oh ! what a world of hope went up With that bright angel child ; The promise of life's bitter cup, That half its care beguiled : Lent for a span so sweet and briof^ We know not why or how ; 'Tis ours to faint and fail with grief— We have no darling now. April, 1S.55. >i m [i 20 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. THE VALLEY OF THE GASPEREAUX. The spring's embroidered kirtle hung gracefully round eiirtli, Stained with the rainbow blossom of "lad rc^ioiciiifi- birth ; The green trees shook tlieir tassels, in feathery beauty hung, And music filled the forest by a tliousaud voices sung. The bladed grass lookeil upward from the rich and fallow soil, And Sabbath beauty mantled the liomes of ha])py toil; While the sun from heaven's blue arches cast a wonderous golden glow, On the glad and fruitful valley of the lovely Gasi)ereaux ! Fair slept that i)loasant valley, a sweet Arcadian scene, As the lazy river wandered the sleeping banks between; The blue flags cast a shadow of azure on its breast, And sedge-grass choked the mill-wheel now motionless in rest. The M'iM-rose shed ito perfume upon the balmy air, the graceful Linnsea trembled in fragile beauty here : ■•*»flWs*:^li^aK iWms^Xia!Ji^\z-^-^:-3:R-Xi.-^;^ THE VALLEY OF THE GASPEUEAUX. 21 AVhily tho ^'reen and graceful willows bent lovingly ami low, Like a band of trusty warders o'er the winding Gasi)ereaux. Far iu tho hazy di.>;.s soft and low, Which wriii's the pleasant valley of the shining (iaspereaux ! July, ISoS. LINES OX THE CEXTEXAKY OF BUItXS. Where purple hill-tops bask in light, and flowery vales are fair, "Where gnldon liroom and heatli-bells deck *' the honnie hank>i of Ayr," I'ar in the old jioctic ]iast, where misty nujmories lie, Beneath tha fro.^ted rime of eld, a century gonn 1»y, Wlien sliining winter mantled earth in vesture snowy white, And midnight stars together sang their songs of living light, Through the dim cloisters of the sky that held the coming morn, A band of fairy voices sang "A jwot child is horn." Softly the elMn music fell in mellowetl cadence there, And woke the drowsy eclioes rountl a inj'iage home of Avr.— ^ii!;l fi m 1 1 'jf 24 PKANKINCKXSB AND MTRRII. Where the three sha>lowy sisters spun strange web and woof of strife For him who slept within tlie hush of awful new-horn life. They tlun-,' the jwct mantlo round — tliat stranpjo mysterious garb, That hides amid its foKls of light the arrow and the barb. They touched the wakening s[iirit then with fancy's radiant wand, And planted in immortal soil rare seeds from fairy- land. Thus waving magic circles round the cradle where he lay, In token of his heritage, the music died away. Years dropped into the lap of Time, the child became a man. Winning his rich inheritance despite the iron ban Of empty rank and shining gold. Superior to them all, The subtle brain, and poet heart, o'erleapt the potent wall. He proved there is no lineal claim, no birthright autocrat, " The rank is but the guinea stamp — a man's a man for a' that ;" LINES OX THE CENTENARY OP nURNS. 25 "P.y l)iinks of Doon," in barley rigs, "by l)ra('8 of iJallochniyle," He (Iroj.pod the sliinin^' links of song about his native isle. "Where tlie " wee mountain daisy " bloomed in white and crimson vest, Or by the wild romantic Loch wliere timid fowl had rest, He held the glass to nature's face from folly's mask to free us, Potent as " giftie's power to see ourselves as others see us." He was the champion of his kind— brave man and gt'ntler woman — Yet claimed indulgence on the plea " to step aside is human." Nature the free, the lieautiful, his ].arent and his guide, In moulding this, her Avoishijiper, "no prentice hand she tried" Alike in days of "smiling sj ring," or when "the hay ■\vas mown," In '• chill ^'ovember's surly blast," or "winter's angry zone," He shrined all things in nature's realm with " thoughts and words that burn." Learning from one the world-wide truth, that "man was made to mourn ;" A 26 PUANKIXCBN8E AND MYRRH. iii But oftonor gathered from the flowers, the stremn, the field, the grove, This better universal truth, man's watehwonl, "God is Love." Ho sang old Seotia's horo sons, who roused tln'm for the fray, With " .Scots whft hae wi Wallace Med "—a martial roundelay. Yet strung his harf) to tender tune, with touch so soft and airy, When singing "bonnio Jean of Ayr," or g^intle " Highland ^lary." To gay and grave, to peer and hind, his verse was for the masses, But never fell so sweet and clear as when he ,l ; • ! • 6, 1 i i-^li |;B i i! t "I, ^ if: 32 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. No longer curls the smoke-wreath from birchen tent at eve, No more the dark-browe'l niaiilens their mossy net- work weave Within thy pine-tree's shadow, river of the west ! No longer doth the Micmac beside thy waters rest, For tyrant voices drove him from the soil he sought to save, From the hunting ground of kintlred beside the blue LaHave. And stranger tones hnve fallen where meet thy drooping trees, And foreign songs have lingered at evening on the breeze. Thy wav(S have caught tlie cadence, and seen the merry glance. Of peasant sons and daughters, from vine-clad La Ilelle France. And lieard their ringing laughter, a sweet melodious din, Seen boddice, cap and kirtle, and beaded moccasin. Eut the old regime is over, for time and con(iuest gave Acadia's soil to England, with thee, thou bright LaHave. MAYFLOWEIiS. 33 And tlu:s thou roUest ever, hrigl.t. peerless, uncon- trJoJod, — The poact.f,,! ,, ■. (>re ours, And nature's hh:>f- ), ' i;ed their dyes, Xear such fresh human fiowers. Fast flew each tireless foot>Loj sv!' re Brown hillocks girt th(! tie(!s, And young heads tossed their sunny hair In gladness to the ijreeze, And little hands with eager grasp, Out from their glossy leaves. The flowers plucked with triumph clasp, As reapers with the sheaves. tiny cups of sea-shell hue. So delicately rare. Your rose-light beauty ever new By silvery whiteness fair. Oh ! what are you, and what are we, That thus our fate should sever, That our worn hearts should faded be While you are fresh as ever "i -MAYFLOWERS. 35 lie, me. Wiiy spcnk yv with such thrilling to To quicken memory thus, Of sunny hours fdrcver gone To weary things like us? AVliy must we cliange with sin an.l ti Fade, falter and despair, WJiile you are in your vernal prime, Forever pure and fair? AVe know, because this earth of ours, With nature, kindred owns; Which every year scn The infant moon is sleeping like a silver thread on high, A fairy crescent hanging upon the -western sky. So delicately beautiful all things in sky and air, The spirit Hoats in rapture as we fondly linger there ; 1: \ I ; I 1 \ nil '■I 40 FIlANKINrENHK AM) MYUIIIL Till the night haa closed around us, — our Ixiniuo is liy tluj shore, And tiie land receives her cliildren to her ([uiet hreast once more. Yet lingering' eyes look backward as if fain thoy still ■\vouhl 1)0 Where the stars cast golden glances on the blue and restless sea. SeptPtnher 1st, ISoO. • » FOR THE NEW YEAR, Under the draw-bridge, over the sea, Flowing from time to eternity, Two freighted barques have in passing met, Their colours glistening, their sails all set. One slowly moves with a solemn sound, The mournful sweep of the outward bound ; The other cuts through the silver foam, Joyously seeking its mortal home. We see the crews as they onward glide, . Alike three hundred and sixty-five : Strange mysteries lie in the hands of each, Of mortal action and mortal speech. ..o Fori TIIK NKW YKAIl. 41 The rocord of ,„u., sad M.-rnory holds, Ilnpo for the (.tlicr flio scroll nnfoMs ; Pii^as whose rc^'istcr Tim,, must scan, Heirlooms, iiml issues of life f(,r man. Only a i»assaf,'c of iiiissinj,' years, Under the draw-bridge the ocean hears ; Only the fall of a sand of time ; Only a New Year's herald chime. Xothing startling and notliing strange In Time's immediate and usual chaiK'e • Nothing— yet stay, can we idle hero Between the parting and coming year? One has the graves of our household dead, The prayers we offered, the tears we shed ; Our fierce temi)tations and overthrow, As we weakly yielded ti> wily foe ; The bitter sorrow, the galling pain Of toil and trial alike in vain ; Our wasted jiowers, our davs of sin Soiling the raiment we sought to win. The other— Oil God I we are trembling here, Watching Thy gift of the coming year : Humble and helpless we waiting stand Before the door of this j)romised land. m i ! * ■ I i I i w 42 FRANKINCENSE AND MYKIIH. lift the latch of the opening year And walk besiilp, us in blessing there. So shall WQ find us over the sea, Under the draw-hridg", at home with Thee. 1S60. ABEL. '• The Xoble Army of Martyrs praise Tliee !' He walked adown the fragrant iiold — The flowers w^re young, like him, — He Avatehed the trees tlieir fruitage yield From every burdened limb. But Eden's voices filled his ear. And Eden's land was strangely dear, Although its liglit was dim. Faith opened to his longing eyes A belter, holier Paradise ; AVhose every street like jasniir glows. Set round with many a gem ; While gates of jiearl tliat land enclose, — The new JerU'^alem ! ADEL. 43 Where angels and arclianovls dwell, Seeing the King invisible, Whose glorious diadem Reflects on earth the changeless love Wliich fills and brightens heaven abov( This land of jToniisc Abel saw; His prophet lij)s were dumb ; For type, and testament, and law, Were shadows yet to come. Man fallen from his glorious height Into sin's curse and deaths when the droacl Evan.e] «^-ii «o„nd fron. shore To shore, '^';;^^-th the shriveiied client. The «ea .shallhe no n I I ,( IfFT I' I -fi' 62 FUAXKINCENSK AND MYIIUII. While over him, her princely son, ]5e still this Av^\h thrown— A hlcssiiiL,' for his mother's siike, A welcome fur his own ! Then lift the rod-cros.s h.innor up Ueneath our forest trees, Ami IhKit its honoureil folds in i)ride Out on the freshening breeze ! With loud ncclaim, ami glad huzzas, Our loyal joy evince ; With Freedom's voice of homage leal, Salute your youthful prince I Of kingly race, in kingly guise, Most graciously he comes, Forever hy this royal deed, To lill our hearts and homes With hope, with love, Avith prayers for him That (lod may guard his throne — A blessing for his mother's sake, A welcomo for his own ! July, ISCO. W. ,tii IhO and ISfiO. 53 1776 AND 1800. ^ViiEs Encrlan,], arro^nnt and poiul, ruled vvith a stillborn hand The vast possessions of hor crown on cis-Atlantic strand, The young, fair dauditor of the pride, est, in independent Chafed at tlio parent rule imposed, and nnposetl, and cast the yoke government wore trampled aside ; Till England's king and down in hate. And those who honoured both were held disloyal the State. to Where the old Church of Trinity looks upward to the sky, He ^vho dispensed Go.l's holy things maintained his loyalty ; * And in the grand old liturgy which England's martyrs gave, He day^ by .lay besought his God the good King George to save. V l^^^ ?*''"' ^"^"'' ^'"*'"' "^ Trinity Churci,, New ^ ork, and afterwards Bisliop of Nova Scotia. .; I ,« i 1 ill ." 64 FIIANKINCKNHB AND MYKRH. A righteoua prayer ; but ileniocmts no longer paid such vow, — Men called them ro])els in that day, we term them patriots now. To awe the pastor's heart, and thus his loyal prayer restrain, The sa'-rcd aisles of Trinity rang with an armed train. Bold as a lion, true as steel, before e.ich glistening gun, Still for his sovereign lord ho prayed, as God's anointed one. But none can, single-handed, long the piiblic voice defy ; If might was riglit, the right prevailed, and he was forced to fly. Up from that ancient church, has gone full many an earnest prayer. But never since for crowned head has one ascended there. Years have gone by, since bold and free, Columbia stood alone. And stars-and-stripes ran up where once the famed red-cross shone ; The olden wrongs and ancient feuds the dim expanse still spanned, Nor would the sullen child forgive the stern old Motherland ; 177B AND ISfW). 55 Until witliitj this year of grace from innny n city f.'iir, As with ono voice the Union ruso to welcome liritain's heir, — A bannered glory streamed around, pealed out the herald gun, And from a nation's heart went up " God Mess Victoria's son !" He came a fair and royal prince, in boyhood's winning guise. Youth's innocence upon his brow, truth in his Saxon eyes ; And as he fiassed, an honoured guest, together and apart They blessed him for his mother's sake, with generous, reverent heart. Not one remembered then the wrong his grandsire's misrule shed, His peerless mother's spotless life absolved the royal dead ; And as the pageant passed along, all through the brilliant scene. The joyous bells of Trinity* rang out " God save the C^tieen !" * ^ ^ the Prince of Wales passed through Broadway, the bells I Trinity Church playeil "Ood Save the Queen." On the following Sunday, when the Prince attended divine 'SI 66 FltAXKINCENSE AND MYRRH. ' ^B HI" I ub y>' So when within that honoured church, amid its hallowed things, The licir of England hunihly knelt before the King of Kings ; Then as the echoes died away of swelling hymn and prayer. Of lioly word and sjoken trutli, upon the listening air,— Once more from those encircling walls that held the brave and free, A prayer ascended up to God for t^ngland's Majesty. People and priest together knelt, and prayed that Heaven might smile On Britain's Queen, on Uritain',; heir, and Britain's Mother Isle. No armed train, no stern decree, forbade the prayer to rise ; In those few suppliant Avoub went up a Nation's sacrifice. Dear to the Empire of the West, henceforth shall ever l)e Victoria and Victoria's son, despite their royalty. service, in that cliurch, tlie officiating Uishop in concluding his sermon prayed for the Queen of England, her family, and dominioa. 177G AM) ISGO. 67 God's blessing on each noble land, the pillars of the earth. '■pvise, in language, and in Kindred in glorious enterin birth ; Long, long may "Hail Columbia!" sound from England's valleys green. And long may great America reply, " God save the Queen !" Dtcanhpr lOlh, ISGO. 9 [from the GERMAN'.] " What do I hear without the gate, Lp ironi the ])ri(]ge resounding? Within my ]ialace I await, The song iis wails surroundinfr " The king commands. With buoyant spring, The page obeys the mandate : '' Wn\^ The grey-haired minstixd hither." " God save you, no! le gentlemta ! God bless you, lovely ladies ! With what bii-iit stars for singer's ken This bright, full heaven arrayed is ! Who knows their nan.u>s ? The sweet, the tender, Fair palace full of stately splendour ; Eyes close yourselves in wonder !" ? f li' 58 PRANKINCENHE AM) MYRRH. Softly tlie minstrel closeil his eyes, And struck a sweet, full measure ; The knights with kindling glance arise, The fair ones blush with pleasure. The King, enrapturetl with the strain, Commanded that a golden chain Be given to the player. " The golden chain give not to me ; Its shining links deliver To those brave knights whose chivalry The foemen's lances shiver. Or to thy Chancellor of State ; But do not let the golden weight Be laid on me as burden. '• I sing as sings the tuneful bird That in the brandies liveth ; The song, which from my soul is heard, Its own rich guerdon giveth. Yet if one favour may be mine. Give me a draught of precious wine In flashing golden goblet. " I pledge you in this cup of l)li.ss, draught so sweet and pleasant ; Hail, favoured house ! where wine like this Is held a simple present. CHRISTMAS MEMORIES. If ye fare well, then think of me, And thank your God as gratefully As I this draught acknowledge." 59 1860. CHRISTMAS MEMORIES. I iif- Little child alone at play On this happy Christmas day, Looking up with Mondering eyes At each fresh and fair surprise, Curious toy, and sweetmeat store. Puzzling game, and pictured hire, Dreams by night, and hopes by day, In their beautiful array, — Here are gathered in thy hantl, Gifts like wealth of fairy-land. As I watch thee, bygone years Rise before me, dim with tears ; Through the shadowy mint I see Brighter eyes than thine may he, Looking up with laughing pleasure At the new-found Christmas treasure ; In II i' i ; t:v. (1(1 60 FI{ANKINCEN'SE AND MYRRn. Still I sec the f,'olden hair (iloHiiiiiig in the suiisliine fair, Rose-lit cheeks of changeful hue Li,t,'hting up sweet eyes of blue, Ringing laughter, sunny smiles, Joyous accents, winning wiles. Little feet, whose eclioes start Every fibre of my heart. Low in (lust that golden head Lies among the silent dead ; Little heart and feet are still In the churchyard's chambers chill. Autumn's rain and winter's snow. Spring's young verilure, summer's glow, We have wept and suffered here, Desolate for many a year ; Stricken ones, with tendrils broken, Mute, for God alone has spoken : Little thing in life's great part — Loss how large in home and heart. God be thanked, that through His name Wlio to-day as Saviour came. We our little one behold Standing by the sea of gold ; THE QL'BKN. AVlicre such sliiniiig nngcls soe Tlieir Fatlier'.s face continually, "VVe must toil and suffer still Work- ing out our Master 8 wil Ours the sin, the j.ain, tlie loss Hers the crown without the cr OSS. To that little hand conmiitted. Sweetl y sounding harp is fitted. E .'en now to us is giv en. Down the starry sldji.,' of heaven "Whi.spers from the golden key Touched hy faith and ineniory, Strains of ho],e tlu! .soul to .>tir We at last may go to her 01 1S61. ; !, THE (^UEEN. SiiB stood I)efore her people, And l)ent her young, fair head Tl H.' golden crown was lifted Anointing incense shed. She seemed so young and fi; To hold tiie guiding helm, And sway the ancient scej.trf Of Britain's mighty realm : lune i 62 i FRANKINCENSE AND MYRKII. 80 lofty, yet so lonely, A gcntlo, timifl girl ; Tliougli round her stood as vanguard Proinl knight and bcltL^ earl ! As promise of her glory Shone through her gracious mien ; More jtrayed, " God bless the maiden !" Than " God exalt the Queen !" She knelt before her people, ]jeside the altar rail, Pure in her early womanhood, Beneath her bridal veil. Her voice rang clear and steadfast Throughout God's house th.at day. As she gave her loyal promise To honour and obey. Not now as England's sovereign, Queen of the wise and brave; A trusting woman only, Her wifely homage gave. And as they saw her kneeling, Her husband by her side. While thousands cried, " God save the Queen T More prayed, " God bless the bride !" THE QUEEN. 63 She dwelt among her people, And joy Avent througli the land, To see her royal children Hold fast their mother's hand : Daughters and sons of beauty, Fair children of the Isles, A happy home their birthright, Pure life, and parent smiles. They saw her girt with blessings, As (jueens are seldom blessed ; Her noble, loving husband At once her strength and rest. They knew her bless'd and honoured. In that dear household scene, A happy wife and mother, A great and glorious Queen. With health and wealth replenished, God gave her long to live ; His hand for many a lustre Was opened oft to give. She saw her kingdom jirosper In arras, in peace, at home, Within her distant colonies, And where the white waves foam. f * \ 1 64 FUAN'KIXCENSE A.N'D MTllHII. The tiiuiu[)li of the sovereign Wlids;*' fume the spirit stir?, Tlie lilcssiiiL^s of the WdiiiiHi. In (loul)!(^ share were hers. Her |M?opU! saw sucli j^lorv As lCn,L,'lan(l ne'er liad seen : Ami mon.' as l)oasl, than huinhle prayer, Crieil dutj " Cun] save the ^j'uien !"' Slie weeps among lier peojilw, Her stalF is broken now : The lover of her girlhooi], The Imsbantl of lier vow, Is lying cold ami silent In a van'teil chamber (iini : Victoria sits a wiihnv I)iseonsolate fur him. lier peo[)Ie weep arduml her In grief which love retlei'ms : For dearer in her sorrnw Their royal lady seems. Like her they sil in s:'.ckcIotlj, Like her they kneel and pray, And hnnd)ly own that lie who gave. Can also take awav. 8IU JOHN IXOMS. From hearthstone, home, an.l altir, Wliore aii<,'t.'ls dowinvanl lean, A Nation's 1)lee(]ing heart implores " God's comfort for our Queen !" Janvary 14th, 1S63. 65 SIR JOHN INGLIS. DIED AT IIAMUUUG, SEPTEMBER 27TII, 1S(;2. From India's hills of purple liver the wild seas lengthening miles, To England's household shrine ; As echoes of the funeral drums, 'Struck by Fame's mighty hand, A long low wail of sorrow comes To Nova 8cotia's land, For him, our hero lying low Where sweeps the German sea, lie.'ide whose calm eternal How, Hot tears drop silently, 1-1 Ml: • i ■ Il^ 06 PRANKINCEN8B ANU MTRRH. ■i r Where green turf wraps tlio soldier's bed In life's full noon-day sun, — Tears for the great and silent dead Whose battle day is done. Low sweeps the wild and mournful wail, Where stately pine trees stand, And yellow leaves chant autumn's tale, Adown his boyhood's land ; Here, where his free, exulting youth Passed like a summer's day, — Here, where in sight of manhood's ruth He put those dreams away ; We see him first in soldier guise The stripling of the fold. Sunning himself in beauty's eyes As knight in days of old. Anon — the call to battle comes ; Long leagues beyond the sea Rolls up the sound of martial drums From Afghan's tented lea. Among the brave, he bore him well, His maiden spurs were won. Where his full crown of glory fell, Beneath an Indian sun. SIR JOEN INGLI8. 67 What lips are dumb, what hearts are calm, When Lucknow's name is heard 1 Where victor's crown and martyr's palm Blent, while the trumpets stirred. Strange, savage hordes, around, beneath ; Within— life's worst despair : Through seige and famine, fear and death, He stood a hero there ; Strengthening the fainting and the weak, Rousing the brave and strong. With dauntless heart, but pallid cheek. As rescue tarried lon^ The free, brave spirit, nurtured here, Upon our Mayflower sod, The first to strike, the last to fear, Firm in its trust in God ; Came forth the victor in the strife That made earth's pulses quail, Giving to Glory's volumed life, Immortal Lucknow's tale. He came, but not as conquerors great The cup with crested brim ; He bore the burden and the heat, The rest was not for him. ; I . ( ^ If' ll-lr iVf ti. 1 I 68 PRANKINCEXSE AND MYRnU. Tho suffering soul shrank from tlio strain, As bow too hiirslily bout ; Sunset met noonday on life's plain, And left a silent tent, lioside his post obedient found, lie did his Master's will, But when the morning watch came round, The guard slept on tiio hill. The snow-white banner in his hand Tho cress upon his breast. Far from his boyhood's happy lanJ, Our hero went to rest. The good tight fought, the battle won. He laid his weapons down, Passed from the shadow to the sun, To wear the victor's crown. HI IS MEMORY OF MILS. J. j. r. AV MEMOIiY OF MlL besMe her silent tent ; Little chil Iren weei)ing wait In her home so desolate ; I 1 IN MEMOHY OF MRS. J. J. K. Crushed before Love's brokcMi ties, Hearts yield bleeding sacrifice. Here sad thoughts of sorrow stir All our memory of her. Hands that wrought her Master's will, Now the golden harp-strings thrill ; Feet turned homeward evermore, Stand upon the jasper floor ; Eyes so often laised in prayer, See the King in beauty tliere ; Lips that told His praises l*»ng, Sing the firsthorn's triumph .song; While tl.at pale and saint-like brow Weais a crown of glorv now. 71 Cnuilied on sorrow's cross, Ours th ^ agony and loss ; Hearts that plead " Thy will be done," Seeking strength fvom God's dear Son. Her's the, early gathering in From a worlil of death and sin, To the Master's promised bind Where the white-robed conquerors stand ; Cafe beside the crystal river, With our Lord s redeemed for ever. iilf l&: V'' r 72 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRIUI. THE MAIDEN H COMPLAINT. [paraphrased from the CERMAX of SCHILLER.] Through the oak forest, The wild wind is crusliiiig ; Over the dark sky, The storm clouds are rushing : Sits on the green bank tlie maiden alone, Watching the river where fierce waves are dashing Into foam clusters, the swift current lashing. Sad is the echo, l)ut sadder lier moan, As out in the dark night alone she is lying. Eyes heavy with weeping, heart weary with sighing. Out in the darkness, Alone })y the river, Sighs the bruised spirit, Kestless forever : " Dead lies my heart in a desolate form ; SaJ world, how weary and lonely I find thee, AVithered and wasted the hopes that entwined thee. Holiest, shelter Thy cliild from the storm ; Call her back from the earth, all its bliss she hath tasted ; She hath lived, slie hath loved, and the treasure is wasted." TUB maiden's complaint. 73 Soft tlirough tlie shadows, Sweet niiswor descended, As wlien tlie storm-cloud And sunslnno liave blended,— " Sorrow no longer, in vain thy tears fall ; Say what shall comfort thy desolate sj.irit ? ' Shr. who loves much, shall the blessing inherit; The Helper will hearken and answer thy ('all ; Heaven garners up hoj,e for the desolate-hearted ; ' TIh'i; wh I ... i console, if love has departed? " Stay not the current, Though idly it fall, Tears cannot vveaken Fond memory's thrall ; It may bo the dead will not wake at their touch. Though the loved one afar in the cold grave is sleeping, Sdent to passion and deaf to thy weeping, The heart that hath loved and lamei'ited so much For the true love departed, the crushed life left lonely. Finds balm for its angui.sh in memory only." April, 1S6S. ■ i ' Ml ^ 1 74 FRANKINCENSE AND MYRRH. " There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God." HehreiOH, iv. 9. In the beginning, God's creative hand Touched the void earth, and brooding darkness stirred ; Light, like His smile, the shapeless fabric spanned, And sea and sky were parted at His word. To rule the day, above the severing bars He set the Sun — great source of life and light, And hung the new-born fii-niament wit'i stars, Around the (jueenly Moon, to guard the night. Then giant trees looked up in glorious green, And stately rivers wandered to the sea ; Sweet flowers awoke, all wet with dewy sheen, Where stream and fountain fell melodiously ; Beautv sat crowned in Ni^ture's solitude, And God pronounced His fair creation good. Where the bright waters sparkled in the breeze, Life in exuberance, rejoicing came ; Birds of rich plumage glittered in the trees, And insects gleamed like shafts of coloured flame. HEBREWS, IV, 9, 75 Where cattle wandered on a thousand hills, Green waved the grass, and sunny meadows rolled ; Fair as the pastures and the crystal rills Saints in the city of our God behold : For earth lay then unstained by sin or age, And Time unclasped a i)ure, unwritten i>age. Five days had morning touched the joyous earth, Five days had evening sang its holy psalm ; But only angels watched the radient birth, And only sweet winds stirred the rosy culm. But now within the green Earth's glorious nave, Made in God's image, visioned from above, Creation's crown the great Creator gave, Man in his strength and woman in her love — The noblest seal on Nature's heritage ; Where all was fair tliese stood the fairest still. God closed the book upon the unwritten page. His six days work had wrought His sovereign will. And Sabbath rest sloped down His golden way. Who ceased from labour on the seventh day. This fair Creation stained its sinless crown — With man's lost innocence the eitrth was cursed, When from His throne tiie Son of God looked down, He of the manv crowns, the Last, tlie First ; 76 FRANKINCEXSE AND MfllRH. Doatli liko u wasting l)liglit liad entorod in— Where love once dwelt, rebi>llioii reigned supreme. God's wnith was kindlefHE AND MYRRH. Its grieved love is often turned aside, AVhere wrath prevails and bitterness is found. Yet ever watching, waiting to abide AVith lowly hearts where humble i)rayers abound, A sliining light where leads the narrow way, A star of promise in our darkest day. iff li ' S. The time will coTue when hope shall fade in siglit, When we shall stand as conquerors from the strife ; At last within the golden streets of light, When death is swallowed up in endless life : Then shall the Spirit cease to strive, and rest With CJod in glory, Avith the Laml) in love, While we, the wanderers, gathered home and blest, The King in beauty shall behold above. Creation's rest was broken by man's sin, Redemption's rest has suffered by our shame, But wlien the kingdom we have entered in, The Spirit's smile, the Saviour's homo to claim, This glorious Sabbath waits on God's behest, Christ's perfect love in our eternal rest. April, 1863. 'iilK TWO MUSES. 79 THE TWO MUSES. [kKOM the GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK.] tell nic, soe I not in ilcstiny A noble combat in the future rise, AV'hen lirituin's muse with Geniuiiiy'.s sh.ill vie To win the crown of fuir, immortal prize ? 1 saw the race-course, and my glance was lost Where each proud goal was bounded from the sight, Oak-groves o'ersliadowed one on Britain's coast, Palm trees the other girt in evening's light. With pride the queenly muse from Albion came, Still crowned with glowing laurels erewhilc won In the hot conflict with Maeonian flame. And where Rome's capitol flashed back the sun. They saw the young asjiiring champion stand. All flushed with eagerness the prize to wear ; Her crimson cheek the breath of glory fanned. And touched with light her waves of golden hair. 80 FRANKTN'CENSE AND MYnnil. Keen for tlic race, in her rebellious breast The Hwift breath panted as slie forward ])eiit. How flaslied her eyes with vehement unrest, As air, by trumpet bhist, tlie lierald rent. ! Prepared for combat, ])roud, with valiant glance. Uprose tiic (jerman champion Thuiskone, And like some knight of chivalrous romance, Took up the gauntlet with ilefiant tone. " Ay, by my beard, ere thou in oak grovo played, I stood alone, nor ever heard of thee ; Porgive, proud muse, inniiortally arrayed, That here to-day thou first art known to me. *' So stand we by the goal to win the crown : In the proud silence of thy glance I read The fiery soul ambitious of renown. The courage calm to dare a glorious deed. " Yet weigh not these with me — I who now stand The (irst time now companioned with thee, Have I not swept the course with kingly hand, And plucked the crown from old Thermopylae V TIIK TWO MUSES. 81 So spake tlio storii old muse in conscious pride ; Yet as the herald sounded nearer, turned And gazed with glance of love intensified On his young rival, till each flushed clieek burned. And tender thoughts, of admiration born, Broke from each lip, kindred in thought and soul : *' I love thee Britain in thy blushing morn," " I love theo Teutona " — the twain were whole. Then said the elder, " Lo, before thee lies An immortality ; stretch forth and grasp The palm of glory as the eternal prize, And I will strive with thee the crown to clasp. " I tremble lest thy daring foot should win First the high goal, so long my glorious dream. But go, and if thou first shouldst enter in, Breath on my tresses as they loosely stream." The herald blew — they closed with eager speed. I saw the race-ground smoke — a clouded floor ; On past the old oak groves their courses lead. Dark rose the billowy dust — I saw no more. June, ISGo. 6 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I iti IIM IIIIM m III 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 6" ► V] <^ /2 'm ■> '^ 7 ^. "m /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 « ,-\ V N> e half life's day was dot)e, God called her to inherit The Kingdom of His Son ; There with the saints forever. The crowned and the strong, Beside the crystal river, 8he sings the first-born's song. Ptbruary, ISG4. H SEPARATED. They stood within the window, The light fell on her hair, Touching with sunset beauty a face that once was fair ; Kow saint-like in its i.atience, As lifted ui) to him. Her sweet lips i)aled and trembled, h grew dim. He watched the dove-like ey es Upon that gentle fi sunlight dying. [ice. With glances cold and careless, thou courteous grace. ve iled by n II- 84 FRANKtNOBNSB AND MYRUH. His was the pride of manhood, The vintage of life prime ; Hers was the harvest beauty, silvered by pain and time. Once they liad stood together In spring-time's tonder gloom, When hope brought crimson blossoms and soft lips touched their bloom ; Then passionate in pleading, His voice her heart had stirred With many a loving promise, and many a tender word. Xow, like the sun whose glory Has touched the lofiy trees. And left the lowly flower to shallow and to breeze, — So had his love passed over. His hand had reached the gate Of promise, while she stood without to suffer and to wait. It was the old, old story, Since Eden's early day When woman's doom resounded adown her exile way. Her own desire was patient Through years of i)ain and doubt ; Her love was true and faithful, but his had faded out. Through years of expectation One hope upheld her heart, She served a patient Rachael, to earn a Leah's part. SEPAIUTED. 85 ^'^ow Mitli that quick, true instinct Whicfi only love can know, She saw her dream was ended, and calndy told him so. God help her in her anguish, Forgive her if she erred, Stilling Ixer heart's fierce beating by hope's delusive word ; Clinging as only woman Clings to her early faith, All change and chance denying by trust as life in death. She watched his beat face closely, As thus she gave him up. Pressing life's purple cluster to poison in life's cup. She watched as watcli the drowning The green slopes on the shore, She watched as watched the dying, eyes they shall see no more ; Then witli the heart's true j.rescience. Learned more through love than grief, She saw his face lose shadow in sunshine of relief. question. Sh That look his heart 1 lid 1 wre e sought not word nor answer, but read her sentence tl ere. Only a sudden si liver. Ash And on her face the sunsh: rinking from his sidt ne in gray, cold shadow died. hi I \ m* '.- •? 86 FUANKIN'CEN'.SB AND MTRHH. She IiusIumI hi.s low remonstrance, Antl crushing b;u;k her jxiin, Held out the hand tliat never shouhl rest in his again, Nor smooth with soft caresses His i|Hi 88 PRANKIXCBNSB AND MTIIUH. DarkiiesM above, nn,g With death, for life ! Bravo .,,,.„ f„rg,.t.i„g danger, weak «,uls to madness driven, Lives dying out in prayer, hearts breaking unforgiven. Boats bearing w«ary, worn-out n.en in safety to the land, While wave and billow drifted ont the dead upon the strand .' Oh God ! the ghastly spectacle upon that cruel shore. Whose every rock an.I sea-worn crag a lifeless body bore ! "^ Eyes in their glassy sightlessness, lips parted half in jirayer, On some the smile of quiet peace, on others such clesj)air ! Whitening beneath the cold, blue sky, the form of Jierfect grace. The loveliness death could not steal from gentle woman's face ; ; t l#i 90 kuankixcknsf: an'd myuuii. it ■I f . ?. t Tho roundo.l limbs of cliiMliODi], tlic dimpliMl ami nnd cheek, Tho little lips still smiling, half parted as to spuak. Sweet darlings of a mother's love, as innocent as fair, — Strong men grow sick and faint at heart to see those children there ! Brave forms in stony silence were 8leei)ing by their side — Tho sailor and the exile, the husband and the bride, The mother and the baby, whose lips clung to her breast, The weary men, the happy boys, all hushed in awful rest ; Gray liairs and golden tresses were floating in the sun ; For all and each of sex and age, the day of life was done ! And hearts at homo may break and die, and tears like rain-drops fall, But never shall their pleading cry, to life tho lost recall : Give back the silent to the dust, the faithful and tho dear ; Where Faith submits. Love must rebel, or mutely sorrow hero. God, assoil the souls of those whose ears are cold and dull ; To breaking hearts beyond the sea, God, be pitiful ! April 7, 1S13. KriTIIALAMlL-M. 91 EI'ITIIALAMIUM. OCTODER Sth, 1S73. Bridegroom and lirido ! thoii^r], fift^ y.-ar. Have iliiDiiiod tlio roses' j,rlow, And touched the suiuiy hlooin of lif,, "^Vith rifts of winter snow : The loving links that hound in one, Seem stronger tlian of old, For Love and Faith have walked with Time, And turned tliem all to gold. Though russet Autumn draped the hills, Yours was tlio 8j)ring of HA., Wlien from the altar's shade you rose, True husband, loving wife. The light that blessed those bri.Ial hours, Burns on more radiantly As time rings in with golden bells Youryear of jubilee] And looking back through Memory's glass, Upon tlje winding way. Whose sunny spots and stubble ground Have ended in to-day,— f •t FRAXKINCEVHE AND MYRllH. The shiulowH melt in lairplo mist, The years tlieir fullness lend, As rosy dawn and ^i)lden evo In rainbow beauty blend. Your life has passed in quiet ways, Bestowed by God's own love, Ilia flowers of light around your path, His holy cross above. The priest and husband going forth To break the breaut, while he spoke, the mess.'ii^cr Was saying, " Come up liigj,,.,.." Kev. Dean liullock fr 98 FKANKINCKNHK AM) MYRKII. To-iliiy — -within that Paradise His hoart so lon^'ed to sci; — Ho views liis Lonl with loviii}^ cyos, From loJi.^ an:;le— for the rest is sweet, liut he has entered in, Safe with tlie ^doriou.s multitude Within that liappy phice, Whos»* rob(!s are washed in Christ's own blood, And who behold I lis fare. Saviour, wlio in one mystic tie Hast knit, Thine own alvcX, (rive us Thy j^raee to live thei'el)y And reai'h what we expect ; That when we cross the silent land, If sorrowinj:;; oiies there be, In Paradise where All Saints stand. Our faces they may see. 2s'ovemher Itt, 1S74> TflK HIDER AM) the r,AKE. 99 THE EIDER AX I) THE LAKE [I'HOM TH|.; GKKMAN OK sen W AH ] TfJE hcrsoiimii riMcs tlin-ii-h the valley bri.'l.t, On whose snow-flakes -littor the ^nn-hearu's li.rj.t. Swiftly lie sj)oe(ls o'er the frozen i To-day he must reach the distant sea The liglit boat sweopini^r across the ti(h; ^Must land 1 inn er(> night on the other siilo. o II rugged way, over stone and tl Htrn, % his gallant steed he is swiftly ])orne. Over tl ic mountains and valley land Tl »o snow lies Hmooth like the si lining sani Swift as he flies o'er the \vl Vanish hehind lite course do\vn. liim village and to wn. F !ir as the eye o'er the way can "L ince. Noh (>u.-e a {•pertrs in the vast expanse. Shrill screams the snow-goose as ..n he flies 'ver the plain as the daylight d les Flutters the water-fowl high Xo other sound does the still in air, ness bear m 100 FUANKIXCKXSE AND MTRHII. No traveller's form can liis eye discern, The rightful course from his lead to learn. Still over the velvet snow speeds he ; Where roars the water ? Where shines the sea ? Now comes the evening, so early here, And flashes of distant lights appear ; Trees rise from the mist on either side, And circling trees gird tiie j^rosjiect wide. Over the ground with its stone and thorn, The horse again by the spur is borne. From the village sheep-fold the watch-dog bays, As the traveller rides through the gathering haze ; Till the horseman slackens /lis eager rein, And light streams forth from a casonient jiane. " Welcome, fair maiden, to weary sight ; Where lies the lake I mu.-t cross to-nigjit ?" Then up looked the maiden with wonilering eye : " The lake and the boat behind tlieelie : " Were its waves not bound by a cliain of frost, Methinks tliou hadst just o'er its bosom crossed." The stranger uttered with wild exclaim : U / V t" O'er the plain behind me hither I canu) !' THE RIDKR AND THE LAKE. 101 "With arm uplifted, tlius aiisworod slie : ** O God ! thou hast ridih-u across tho sea ; •' O'er the dark abyss, the hottoniloss floor, Kapped thy nia.l horse-hoofs on that icy door : " Then, as under thee roared the hike. Did not its liard rind in thunder break ? " AVhy wert tliou not prey for the famished brood Of the liungry pike in the coUl, deep flood !" Out from the villap;c, with eager ear. Childhood and youth came forth to hear. Answered each, as the tidings ran, " Call thyself happy, fortunate man ! " They bade him in where the board was spread With plenteous supper of fish and bread. But the rider had not on his good steed stirred Since first on his ear fell the startling word. Behind him yet grinned that fearful sea, And his heart stood still in its agony ; There his eye saw the ghastly gorge alone. And his spirit died at the hollow tone. As the crushing thunder still haunted his ear With the bdlows' gurgle, he saidc, in fear, Dead from his horse by the cottage door. And found a grave on the dry, still shore. 102 rilANKINCKNSi; AN1> MVRKH. t^ErrKMUKn x^.r/v/, isn;. ^Iy Sister ! Sinco as littlo j,Mrls we played Under tho jioplars round our early homo, lTj)on your birthday, festival \ve made By loviujr words and j^ifts-. To-day I eonie, ^ly ureaths all wet with love's most bitter rain, The cypress and the asphodel of pain. T staiul beside thy (juiet j^n-ave to-day, Where llowrrs are giowiii|; and where grass is green. On leaden wheels the months have j)assed away Since rolled deaths bridgeless sea our lives between. Last biithday ^eems so far, and yet so near The golden autumn of the byegone year. AVlien you were with us, on your gentle face We s.iw no shadow deeper than tif old. Moving so c.dndy in your wonted place. Your sweet and patient eyes no story told Of the sad doom so j^resent to your ken — Of the dark cross your heart was wearing then I SKi'TiDMHiou I'.vni, i>rr.. 103 Your check ^^rvw p;il< r, ;iii'I voiir strn Irss stroii" : *\\'c could iidt Ht'c, our eves were lioldtui still ; The shadows drci.cMcd, and the iii;,dit i^tcw Iou^', You knew tli(! wheels wore broken at tlic mill, "While we, () (mm! ! had neither dread nor duuht. And yet your sands df life were runidii'^ out ! ■eu. een. It cuuo at last — Miore hitt-r, (••lud fruit Tlio tiee of Inuiian knowleilijo never ^'ave. Our hearts were paralyzed, our lips were nuite. To see you h isteuiuc,' to your open ;^'rav(! ! We knu'.v it could not, s) v/e dir'^ not pr;iy, " Lord, from our li[)s let this cuj) pass away ! " And day hy day wn watched you failinj^ here- in pain your 8r)irit brave no more could hide, With ne'er a murmur, rar.dy e'en a tear, You were so sweetened and so sanctified ; Like the dear Lord wlio hore our jtain and loss. Made perfect throu^di the sutrering of the cnws. Thniugh Lenten sliachiws, uj) to Htster dawn, The softer sides were wet with April sh'>w(!rs ; Sprine's rosy fingers touched the forest lawn ; \Vo laid upon your bed the sweet IMayilower.^. The kiss of summer on the g'e(ui eartii lyinij, All full of life — you, you alone v.-ere dying! 104 FUANKINCKNHB AND MYUKII. Pi A 1 You thouj;ht to last till iiutmnn came again, Perhaps to see this birthday with »is all ; To watch the shadows on the golden grain, — Then, like the leaves, to wither ami to fall. Hope, sad as vain ! with May's last soft good-night. To us who watched and wept, went out your light ! In such sweet peace, so full of love and faith, So rested after all tlie toil and strife, We could not call your blessed slumber death : To us it seemed an entering into life. We almost heard the Master's welcome sweet, As you laid down your burden at His feet. And through those quiet days that came and went. While we still watched beside your pure, still form, And field, and woodland were with light besprent ; We, broken by the beating of the storm. With all the weight of life-long loss oppressed, Could only feel the fulness of your rest. We laid you here. The sky was glad with light, The birds were singing where the young flowers grew; Upon your coflin, blossoms pure and white — Your patient soul as sweet and stainless too I Under the sod we left you lying low, You who had loved the glorious spring-time so I THR TWO (JliAVKS. 105 " Hard to have Ini.l lur IImmv in spring," wo sui.l, " .So liard to dio when all around was fair !" Spake not a voice, that blessed are the dead, Who, dying in the Lord, are with him where Eternal .spring in ehangeless glory lies Around the dewy slopes of I^'iradise ! Our summer time is gone— the autumn near, Once more the hectic hues the green leaves steep ; I know not where you hold the feast this year,— What was your birthday, by your grave 1 keep, Still groping blindly for the light to fall ; You in the Presence Chamber knowing all ! THE TWO GRAVES. Where the churchyard's foliage waves, Side by side two grass-grown graves. This, the resting j.lace of one Bying when life's day was done ; That, for her, a little rose. Blighted ere the morning's close. He on sunset closed his eyes, She but saw the sun arise. H 106 FUAN'IvINCKNHK AND MVUIUI. iJroken bv tlii' clmtiu'oful striff, Woary witli the nmn-h of life, Al tho curf(!\v'.s suniinnniiii,' knoll, Hh, the vctcriiii soldier, fell ; When the luidnirrht watch rnmc round, Laid his kunjisack on the <^rniind, ][uinlily crossed ins haiidH in rest. Folded on a silent breast. Slif aiiionfij till; flowers at play, Lovely as ilie now-born day, Knowing not of grief or care, Innocent as an;:els arc ; (iirt with love and boiiseljold blessing. All life's riehest gifts possessing ; Heaven exhaled the perfume dear Of our dew^\io c:inie, she lived, she died. alone From youtli, through womiuuiood, t Ifer stoiT hlls a turned-down peg AVhile none have seen, and none Her secret of a century. o age. ill see — ''■■ "'"■■ 112 FRANKIXCENHK AND MYRIIII. What had slic done ? wliy did slie conic ? We (jnostion, and the ycar.-i are dumb. AVhate'er the shame, whate'er the sin, Her punishment should pardon win. Here in the sliaduw of this wood, She knew life's loneliest solitude ; Here where the tasseled jiine trees wave, Time lias lieen tender to her grave. The cold grey stone, in letters deep. Her name and Ijirthplace plainly kee(» ; The moss-grown brick ;ind morticed wall. Hold faithful watch and ward through all. Leave her in peace — luu- sung, nor said, Ee word of doul)t to vex the dead ; The Judge with whom the verdict lies. Has balanced sin by sacriKce. Anijuit loth, 1S79. JAMES A. OAHFIELD. 113 JAML'S J. (iAKFIELD. Keep silence a.s tl„. om-taii. falls ! At last The tra.^^c".],y i. ,.ver,-],.t hi.n r..st ! The watch, tho .tru.^gle and the strain is i,a,st; The (iniet grave revives its tirclcruost Wra,),,od iii the purple of a NatioM's (ears- ^n uncrowned king, a Saul an.on. his peer. ! ^Ve who liave heard tiie story of his life, Its patient j.rogress, an.l its steady aim' Hi« strength in sultering, and his ^ahu in strife, The self-denial, greater than the fame, In faith a1)iding through eclipse of light,' In brave, strong p„rpose, steadfast for th'e right,- We who have watched hin. as he took the hel,„ Guiding the ship upon a stormy sea, The grave, wise ruler of a mighty realm' Whose gathered millions, as the waves, are free - U e, deep in wonder, saw the web unfoM, As his deft fingers turned the threads to' gold. His feet had climl)ed tl In life's I iiir zenitli, when tl le topmost stair. He stood le assassin came. Dyeing ids traitor hands witii hero blood The world looked And Christendom sent n in darkness antl in shame. (( Let not Iiis blood nj) to heaven a cry, 8 on us in judgment lie !" m m