LEGENDS SONNETS BY FRANCES L. MACE BOSTON CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY Corner Bookstore 1883 Copyright, by CUPPLES, UPHAM AND COMPANY, 1883. ( , I ( III ' I I ' < I < 1 I C I ' . > ( < It,,, , ' ( I < 1 11 C C C I C < I , I I . I 1 l ",','. ' , t I < ( I 1 I . . I .,.<<.< I I ' , . ELECTROTYPED. BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 4 PEARL STREET. CONTENTS. LEGENDS. ISRAFIL HESPEKUS. A LEGEND OF THE DAWN . THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL . THE GARDEN OF IREM . ST. GREGORY'S GUEST A STORM FANTASY . THE TREE TUBA. THE CENTURY PLANT A TUSCAN LEGEND THE HELIOTROPE . THE FIRST AT THE FEAST TEARS OF Isis . VIDAR THE SILENT PLYMOUTH ROCK . NOROMBEGA .... KlNEO .... THE BOWDOIN OAK 1 15 18 29 32 36 40 44 46 48 51 53 55 57 58 60 63 67 72 M: r IV CONTENTS. LYRICS. EASTER MORNING ........ 79 URANIA .......... 83 ONLY WAITING ......... 87 ARCADIA .......... 89 * i BUDDHIST VISION ........ GREENWOOD GREETINGS ...... 99 TEEE FIRST ROBIN ........ 103 VIOLETS .... ... 105 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY ...... 106 PEARLS OF PRICE . . ...... 108 THE SIGNAL ......... Ill DREAMLAND CITY ........ 113 RECOMPENSE . . . . . . . .117 SONG PHANTOMS ........ 118 UP THE RIVER ......... 121 HAIL AND FAREWELL . ..... 123 A SEASIDE PICTURE ........ 125 LOTUS-EATING ......... 129 SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE .... 131 BLACK-CAP MOUNTAIN ....... 134: RIVERSIDE ......... 137 To BEETHOVEN ....... .141 FROM ROME ......... 143 OBERAMMERGAU ......... 146 WHAT CHEER ? ....... 146 A VIGIL . ........ 149 INDIAN SUMMER . .... 152 CENTENNIAL HYMN ....... 154 WINTER OUR GUEST ....... 156 IMMORTELLES ......... 160 CONSOLATION , 162 CONTEXTS V S X X E T S ORIENT TO OCCIDENT . ^ 167 OCCIDENT TO ORIENT 168 THE SEVEN DAYS 169 LONGFELLOW 175 VICTORIA 176 To THE RAINBOW .177 THE MAGIC FLUTE 178 MIDNIGHT 179 DAYBREAK .... 180 FRIENDSHIP 181 THE FLOWER PAINTER 182 EBB AND FLOW .... . . 184 HAPPINESS 185 SOUNDS FROM HOME 186 FAR AND XEAR 187 FOREST AVORSHIP 188 ISOLATION 189 ALTAR FLOWERS 190 STAR SOLITUDE 191 ST. CECILIA 192 LEGENDS. ' LEGENDS. I S R A F I L. ISRAFIL ! Stay thy sickle on vale and hill. Come from the woods whose gorgeous leaves Pale and wither beneath thy tread : Come from binding among thy sheaves Dearer blossoms of beauty dead, Of grandeur and of worth Wrested away from earth. Bend thy sorrowful eyes on me, Angel of death ! and while nature breathes One hour from thy sad dominion free, Tell me the mystery of thy woe, The legend I only have heard in dreams. Over my heart shall flow ' < ( , I , ICC , ' ' , < ' ' . < , , , 2 LEGENDS. In fuller measures the solemn strain, Up from depths of tears and pain Rising to patience, rising again To a paean of triumph. Hush ! be still ! Whence this odor of amaranth wreaths? Whence these faint and starlike beams Shed from feet which make no sound ? A touch of fire Is on my lyre, And its strings with a sudden, rapturous, bound Thrill beneath the angel fingers. O O Thou art come thou art gone ! Yet in all my being lingers A breath celestial, a voiceless tone, I shall not utter my song alone, Israfil ! On Paradise A softer hue of glory lies, The hush of evening, for the night Comes slowly o'er young Eden's skies, Reluctant to conceal from sight One blossom's radiant dyes. A thousand birds amid the shade, To sleep their shining plumage fold, ISRAF1L. 3 A thousand flowers that cannot fade Perfume afresh their leaves of o-old, O Far off, rising stars illume ' O The gentle, yet half fearful gloom Which folds in deeper shade yon myrtle bower. There lost in slumbers pure and deep, Wrapt in the stillness of the hour, Unconscious yet of tempter's power, The first-born, guiltless mortals sleep. Lo ! down the airy waste Four shining angels haste : O O Their eager wings make music as they come, Flashing alone: the nicfht, O O O ' All redolent of light, O 7 As if the splendors of their upper home Reflected still illumed their earthward flight. On, swiftly on, past star by star, Leaving a path of glory far Behind their luminous wings, at last O 7 The measureless expanse is past, And at their feet in beauty lies The new-made, earthly Paradise. As when from envious shadow breaks Sweet Hesperus and walks the aisles Of heaven's blue temple, nature smiles And added grace and beauty takes, LEGENDS. So Eden, conscious in its dreams Of a diviner atmosphere, Breathes richer fragrance far and near, And in the angelic presence beams. A moment stay their steps to view Scenes to angel vision new, Roses burdened with the dew By the tender night distilled, Birds whose last good-night is trilled Sleeping on the tremulous bough, Fountains white in moonlight glow : But a moment, for the night Deepens, and without the gate Evil spirits hide and wait. Each bright angel seeks his post, Armed, and mightier than a host Of the envious, guileful band That in outer darkness stand. Northward, southward, westward go One by one the heavenly guard, Clothed about with garments white That diffuse a silvery glow, Bearing each a sword of li^ht O O With celestial jewels starred. Last with lingering steps that seem Loth to seek the nightly stand ISRAF1L. On the utmost eastern hill, Youngest of the angel band, Lovelier than a poet's dream, Comes the angel Israfil ! Now quicker in his noiseless tread, His silvery wings expanding spread, Half floats he in the air with deep delight As scenes of new enchantment meet his sight. His eyes of liquid azure, touched with fire, More beautiful than can be sung or told, Shine 'neath the aureole of his locks of gold, With a soft restlessness, a fond desire. Adoring beauty with a love Too passionate for one of angel birth, Even at this hour he pants to rove Amid the green bowers of the fragrant earth ; To hear once more the nightingale's refrain, To touch the humid, sleeping rose again, But most of all to see The latest miracle of Deity, The revelation, unto angels new, Of loveliness they scarcely yet conceive As real, substantial, true, The first of human womanhood, The breathing form, the spirit pure and good, The garden's royal flower, the new created Eve. 6 LEGENDS. O Israfil ! Bid thy impulsive soul be still, Until the morning wait ! o Leave not the haunted o;ate o Where even now, by evil sense aware Of thy untried and hasty mood, The serpent King with envious hate Whispers, to tempt thy angelhood, Of her the wonderfully fair, Whom but to look upon would be A rapture and an ecstasy. O Israfil, Keep well thy watch upon the starlit hill, Until the morning wait ! O Then when the summons from on hicfh O Recalls thy comrades to the sky, She shall come forth, and with sweet converse greet The parting and the coming angel host. Stay thy impetuous feet ; One moment now absented from thy post, And all is lost. The serpent watches well : thou shalt return too late ! An hour is past, All Eden sleeps in motionless repose. ISRAF1L. 7 Around, above, he casts his restless eyes And sighs to think how long the night will last. The moon rides slowly, slowlv down the skies. . 7 *- Surely far off have vanished Eden's foes. No evil spirit can be lurking near, No sound, no breath meets his attentive ear. So long the night, so deep the silence grows, May he not wander at his wayward will If not too distant from the sentinel hill? Only a few light steps will bring him near The bower of which the angels oft have told. There in the moonlight clear O A moment tarrying, he may behold, And seeing may believe That only he has learned how beautiful is Eve. As now with wilful steps he seeks The bower where she is slumbering, The dew brushed by his rapid wing From hanging boughs, falls on his cheeks. His feet are trampling in their haste The straying rose, a wildwood vine Whose flowers the mossy pathway graced. He starts, when in the bright moonshine A bird, awakened, trills a note, Then sleeps, the song still rippling from his throat. 8 LEGENDS. But soon he trembles, listens, doubts no more : All else forgotten he is bending o'er CD O The violet bed, amid whose blest perfume Earth's fairest being sleeps, unconscious of her * doom. She sleeps she dreams For now a smile hovers with tender grace About her lips. The beauty of her face A breathing wonder to the ansjel seems. O O Her dark eyelashes rest Motionless on the warm flush of her cheek, Her lips part softly, as if she would speak But had in dreamland lost the word she fain would seek! One hand is lightly clasped about a rose Which fully open blows, Too blest to share its sister flowers' repose. And veiling her white breast Falls wave on wave of lustrous golden hair. ^j Like one enchanted in the moonlight glow, The ans;el lingers still and murmurs low, O O 7 " Daughter of earth, how fair ! ' Israfil ! Israfil ! The cry rings through the startled night. The angels speed in sudden fright 1SRAFIL. 9 Toward the unprotected gate. On wings of fear flies Israfil Alas ! he flies too late. His brother angels flashing by Already with pure sense perceive An evil lurking nio;h. o o A change comes o'er the moonlit sky : The wind begins to sigh and grieve ; The garden feels a sudden chill, The breath of coming fate. " Where hast thou strayed, O Israfil ? The serpent's taint is on the air. The son of darkness, once as fair And frail as thou, is come ! " He hides his face in his despair And stands before them, dumb. All night the angels to and fro Seek for the messenger of woe. O He, subtle, silent, still eludes Their search. In densest solitudes Evades the lustre that is shed From their celestial tread. At morn, recalled, they seek the skies, But Israfil with drooping wings No longer heavenward can arise, To earth unwilling clings. o o 10 LEGENDS. Through all that fateful day, hour after hour, With deepest sorrow thrilled, He stands invisible, apart, Sees evil warring with the human heart, And Eden's doom fulfilled. When in the evening cool the Lord appears, Sees the forbidden tree with broken bloom, The garden desolate and lost in gloom, The mortals hiding from his searching gaze, Israfil, speechless, hears Their fate pronounced, sees their repentant tears And death's dread shadow hanging o'er their days. And now on him the rays Of the Eternal Vision fall, the word Of his own doom is heard. "Since death by thee is come unto the earth, Be thou its messenger. Thy name shall be A terror unto all of human birth ; The shadow of the grave forever follow thee." In Eden it was early dawn. How changed since in the even-time The angel saw it in its prime. The erring mortals now were gone : He stood within their empty bower alone. ISRAFIL. 11 Above his head A little bird was warbling cheerily. The music mocked his speechless misery. He raised his hand, unconscious of his power, And grasped the bough which held the dainty nest, And the branch shrivelled in his hand ; with breast Panting in sudden pain, the bird fell dead. Aghast, he seized a flower, The rose which Eve's fair hand at night had pressed ; Beneath his touch it withered ; bud and leaf Dropped dry and scentless. In a bitter grief He murmured "This is death ! And this henceforth shall be mv destiny, * * * To slay but not to die. To blight all things of mortal breath, ^-> d? / All earthly loveliness to sere, All that yon beings hold most dear Must perish when my steps draw near. Nor can I shun my fearful power, Or spare from them one dreaded hour. Onward I go through all the years, Unheeding human prayers and tears. Let mortals seek through toil and fears Some transient gleams of love and joy, I follow after to destroy." 12 LEGENDS. "Israfil!" The anel looked and bowed his face o Before a brow whose sweet, majestic grace Had shone upon him oft in happier morn, From the Eternal hill Whose dazzling height reveals the Father'? throne. Immanuel the First Born Stood smiling on him in the early dawn. Israfil, behold ! " The Son takes in his hand the withered rose, Its petals seem like magic to unfold. A new, celestial bloom, A heavenly perfume Through the awakened blossom breathes and glows. The Savior smiling lays it on His breast. He takes the dead bird from its broken nest, It flutters, plumes its wings, Then rapturously sings And soars away toward the beaming Heaven. Then spake He " Israfil, The Father to the Son a boon hath given. Go forth, but I am with thee. Do His will Who laid this doom upon thee, and be still. Thou dost destroy, but thus can I restore. Angel of death arise, and hope once more ! ISEAFIL. 13 From Abel's blood spilt on the altar stone To Calvary's cross which I must bear alone, Thou shalt be terrible to human kind And hope but dimly light the troubled mind. But from that grave which yields to me its portal, Faith shall come forth, the Comforter immortal, And thou, new-crowned, shalt be Seen by believing eyes linked hand in hand with Me!" Thus spake Iramanuel, and ascending passed Again unto His Father's house, to keep Unbroken watch while time and sorrow last, Of His beloved who in death shall sleep. And Israfil arose, serene and calm, And with one last look upon Eden's bower, Went forth into the morning's fragrant balm, o o * To wield forevermore his melancholy power. Israfil ! Let thy sickle return to the harvest that gleams White and wan on valley and hill, For my lyre is still. The sons: that I heard in the land of dreams O Is sung, and its magic shall haunt me no more. Ever yet to the unseen shore 14 LEGENDS. Bear earth's harvest, the loved and lost. Often thy shadow my door has crossed. I have seen thy icy fingers laid On lips that I loved and was not afraid. Following close on thy chill and gloom, Reaching up from the darkened tomb Was the very odor of heavenly bloom Shed from His garments who followed thee, And took my idols to keep for me. Israfil ! Come again at the Master's will. At thy cross and pang my flesh may shrink, But thy bitter cup I will dare to drink, And follow thee down to the river's brink. Through the breathless tide ~ I will clino; to the hand of the Crucified. O And when I awake on the further shore I shall see thee no more Sad and shrouded in garments dim, But the angel of peace, and brother of Him Who crowned thee and blessed thee on Cal- ' vary's Hill, Israfil ! HESPERUS. AWAKE, O beautiful Hesperus ! Awake ! for the day is done, And the royal purple curtains are drawn Round the couch of the sleeping sun. There is a hush on the blooming earth, A hush on the beating sea, And silence, too, in the courts of Heaven, For the stars all wait for thee, Hesperus ! All things beautiful wait for thee. Tis the hour for fancy's fairy reign, When the glowing brain is fraught With visions of beauty and bliss and love That leave no room for thought. With the light of warm and glorious dreams This narrow chamber is bright, And I need but thee to sing with me, O sweetest poet of night ! Hesperus, Open thy volume of golden light. 15 16 LEGENDS. There may I read of the youth of old Who clambered the mountain height, O ' And talked with stars in the midnight hours O Till he faded from human sight. CD Till his brow grew bright with wonderful light, And away from the world's rude jars, He was lost in the beams of his radiant dreams And himself was the fairest of stars. Hesperus ! The best beloved of all the stars ! There may I read this legend rare And its beautiful meaning learn, While my soul new kindled to hopes divine With a holy fire shall burn. O never should human heart despair Of the presence of God on high, never should human faith grow dim, While the stars are in the sky ! Hesperus, Thy voice is the voice of eternity. Thou art smiling down on me, Hesperus ! With that smile upon my heart 1 know that kindred to me and mine In those measureless heights thou art. HESPERUS. 17 When thy spirit blossomed into a star In the mystical days of old, The love and the hope it bore on high, The legend hath never told. Hesperus, Thy sweetest story hath never been told. O to be like thee, Hesperus ! To climb the heights of truth, O * And there to drink of celestial airs, To glow with immortal youth ; There wrapt in the light which is born in skies Where the blessed angels are, To hear earth's harmonies only rise, Floating sweetly up from afar. Hesperus ! How can my spirit be made a star ? A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. FROM a bed of velvet the Tourmaline Its crystal splendors of red and green, Toned and mellowed by milk-white bars, Flashed in the sunset. The prisoned rays Glittering, shimmering under my gaze, Now soft as the rainbow's melting haze, ^j / Now fierce and fine as the light of stars, Held me, thrilled me with magic glance! All the fairest and wildest flights Of fancy, winged in Arabian Nights, Circling slow in bewildering dance Seemed to float o'er the jewel rare. Till half afraid, lest a look profane The spell-bound spirit imprisoned there, I turned away, but all in vain The mystery breathed from the page again. For there I read of pure and priceless ores Stored as by some malignant, fateful plan, In desert isles, on solitary shores, Beyond the reach and far from haunts of man. 18 A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 19 Of wrath of winds and waters, storm and fire To baffle and to thwart the world's desire For precious stones; and though with new delight Age after age some treasure brings to sight, Brilliants unnumbered sleep in endless night. In secret still the jealous elements nurse The crystal blossoms of the universe. I closed the book. I lifted from its bed Of tawny velvet the enchanted stone. Again its fiery glance upon me shone, All sense of present, actual being fled. Backward, far backward in the dawn of time Floated my vision; in creation's prime, When Genii roamed in daring strength abroad, But living souls were hidden still with God. Can this be morning, this light which breaks In utter silence o'er land and sea ? No bower in the forest, no tent on the lea, No sail on the rivers, no oar on the lakes, Nor voice, nor motion of grief or glee ? Even the sunlight, a languid ray, Lingers and dreams at the door of day. But hark ! what tone, what elfin strain Wakens the landscape to life again ? 20 LEGENDS. " Come Genii of the deep ! Come, giant forms of the earth and sky ! Ye who toil without rest or sleep, Whose lips never smile and whose eyes never weep, But whose hands are mighty to gather and reap The beautiful harvest of diadems. Come, for the end of your toil is nigh. The days primeval are told ; The veins of the earth are full of old ; O ? The ocean's sparkling floor Lights up the waters with glittering ore, Over vast spaces like shadows creep, And come to the island of gems." A voice like music wafted from afar, Faint and aerial and unreal as are The utterances of all the soulless things Which of mysterious birth Move to and fro upon the living earth, Sent forth this wild and melancholy call. It floated out upon the winds, and all The breezy spirits spread their fragrant wings And bore it up and down the sea and land. It pierced the depths, and drowsy ocean stirred And sounded it again, till it was heard In deepest cave, on farthest icy strand. A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 21 Then to the island of flame Luminous far over tropic seas, Summoned by heralds of billow and breeze, Unnumbered Genii came. Gem of the ocean the island lay, Veiled with a mist of rainbow spray ; Nor leaf, nor verdure adorned the side Of the sloping cliffs, but far and wide Crystal masses of white and green, Beds of amethyst, paths of spar Spangled with diamonds brighter far Than noonday's radiant sunbeams are ; Terrace of rubies, like scarlet flowers, Sapphire violets, emerald bowers, Crimson and olive tourmaline, With banks of topaz whose azure gleams Were blent with pearl wreaths of silver sheen. Hither swiftly and silently came Spirits of billow and vapor and flame, Subject all to the beautiful queen Eola of golden beams ! She solitary on her brilliant throne, A seat of gold with vivid gems inwrought Beheld them as they gathered one by one. Each to her feet some sparkling jewel brought, Which with new lustre in her presence shone. 22 LEGENDS. Giants were they in form, and dark and grave, Their features neither hope nor sorrow wore ; In time's first hours to them the Maker gave Such endless life as earthly elements have, With strength and will to work the precious ore. Arrayed before the sovereign, as in turn Her shining glance on each one chanced to burn, The shadow brings, dusky, dark and stern Gave forth prismatic lights of various hue, Till like their own rich handiwork they grew. " Ye to whom power is given Over the secrets of land and sea, Mingling the life-giving beams of heaven With the dark vapors, the deathly mould That earth's abysses and caverns hold, Into the night of memory reach ! Borrow of winds and waters speech, And tell once more The work ye have wrought with the shining ore." Then one who spake for many, bowed him low Before her throne. " Eola ! thou dost know We were of Chaos and of Darkness born. Without thee we were helpless, blind and weak. But when the first Day grew to glowing morn. Daughter of Light ! thv glance had power to speak ~ */ ~ A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 23 Our torpor into life. By thee sent forth, Armed with thy beams, we wandered south and north And to remotest wilds of east and west, The purest treasure of the earth our quest. Where'er thy spear on desert rock or land Revealed a grain of unpolluted sand, Lustrous and clear, we bore it to the strand Of mighty ocean, and the salt sea wave Planted in priceless beds the seed we gave. Flames wrought beneath the ocean, central fires O Upturned the depths, and laid on every shore Perfected miracles of precious ore. Now we rejoice in thy fulfilled desires." Then hastilv bending down, v <37 ' One laid at her feet a crown From whose central jewel seemed to unfurl Petals of opal with frosts of pearl, And sprays like dew-drops on yellow sheaves. " The light of thy love, O queen ! We have wrought into brilliants of purple and green, Into blossoms that never shall lose their sheen, Nor their glowing, beautiful dyes. Each glance of thy sunny eyes Some happy spirit delighted weaves 24 LEGENDS. Into deathless beauty. Let thy command Speed on our labors. From every land Let us bring the spoil, till the final day The reign of the human shall end our sway."- As some fair tree white with perfected bloom Waves slowly to and fro, and slowly fall The snowflake petals, till the verdure all Is strewn with drifts of prodigal perfume, So now Eola, sun-born spirit, shook Her waving tresses with a mournful smile, And falling beams illumined all the isle. " That day has come, O genii ! ye may look Even now upon the new created one For whom all days their wonder work have done. My spirits, do ye not remember well When from the vast, blue dome above, there fell A Voice which shook the firmament, and ye Heard the Invisible utter His decree " Let us make man ! ' the angels heard and sung Paeans with which the whirling planets rung, But in the deepest shade Ye hid yourselves, sore troubled and afraid. O Genii ! know that unto the last day Of the creation only, we have sway. The world is ripe for man; we phantoms must away ! " A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. l Then sounds and sighings of woe Through all the island were heard, And the waves of the listening ocean stirred And beat on the fringing coral reef With a sullen, angry flow, And an undertone of grief. "Ah! we remember, queen! We too have the omens seen Of creation's ultimate change. It was not for us that the waters rolled And left the isles and continents free. It was not for us that verdure and tree, Foliage gorgeous and manifold. With flowers like jewels of red and gold, Robed the valleys and wreathed the hills ; Not ours the shadow of oak and palm, And fruits that ripen with breath of balm ; Not ours the music the wild bird trills Nor the strength of the forest. But say, O queen, What later signal thine eyes have seen." Slowly she spoke the shining lustre shed In fainter sparkles from her beaming head. "I saw, O children of the fire and flood, A garden which your feet have never trod. 26 LEGENDS. Vast, beautiful and rich with foliage rare, Earth has no vale so spacious nor so fair. And in the midst one walked, of lesser height Than we, but firm, compact, and fair to sight. He spoke his voice rang out distinct and clear; The beasts with mild obedience drew near, And the birds hushed their delicate notes to hear. I glided closer and by him unseen Watched his superior step, his fearless mien, Until with brow uplifted to the sky He said aloud ' Our Father ! ' from on hisrh O The Voice that called the days to life replied, And I fled trembling from the garden's side. Alas ! in fearful haste I dropped a gem, The brighest star from out my diadem, Low at his feet it lies, Mocked by the fairer bloom of Paradise. " But not for the new born race Are the treasures that ve have won / My children of fire and sun ! Still in some secret space, Some hidden grotto of earth or cave, In mountain granite or black sea wave We will find a resting-place. O 1 A LEGEND OF THE DAWN. 27 To your utmost depths ye sons of fire ! Ye foam-tressed waves roll wilder, higher, Snow spirits, winds, your plumes outspread, Daughters of sunlight o'er wide earth flee And wherever a mortal foot may tread, Gather in haste and bring to me. We will bury our jewels in mountain and main, And the mighty, hereafter, shall seek them in vain." Silent and swift the genii now began To hide the riches they had wrought, from man. Into great rifts of mountain rock they poured The gold a thousand centuries had stored, With gleaming sands the river beds were sown. O O Masses of crystal, violet, rose, and white, Tinting the waters far with colored light, Into the secret ocean depths were thrown. Hard was their toil, nor did Eola shun To give them aid, though daughter of the sun. O * O O At sunset all was ended. Gathered there Upon the island desolate and bare, Dim, wavering forms already fain to flee O tf The presence of unknown humanity, They looked upon their queen. She took her crown, Of its lost gem despoiled, and cast it down 28 LEGENDS. Into the waters. From her shoulders fell The mantle of the sunbeams. "Now, farewell, Sweet light of day ! " she uttered " We will keep Eternal watch within the unsounded deep. Woe to the hand that for the prize may dare In toil and pain to search. The rock shall be Of adamantine strength : the trusty sea Unwilling yield one golden grain, and care And ill unmeasured be the victor's share." Fading, fading away, Lost in the dying day, The Genii vanished from sea and shore. Loudly lamented the winds ; the sun Sunk among vapors ashy and dun, The rain-clouds sobbed as the niMit bejmn. O O ' The island trembled and quaked with woe. There were sounds of feet going to and fro On the ocean's echoing floor, But moaning tempest, nor midnight rain, Nor morning sunlight could call a^ain O O *-- The Genii forth. With charm and sign They had touched each gem of their boundless store, The door was sealed of each golden mine, The pathway darkened forevermore. THE BIRTH OF THE ROSE. LONG ago a lovely wood nymph, Flora's fairest child, Roamed Arcadia's velvet meadows, Silent, shy, and wild, Until Death, enamored, met her In her beauty's glow, Touched her with his lip of marble, Kissed her cheek to snow. Flora found her 'mid the blossoms Beautiful and still. " Help ! ' she cried, " ye happy dwellers On the purple hill ! " Wrest from Death the fairest being o Ever missed from earth ; Let the flower of nymphs inherit A celestial birth." See the shining ones descending ! <~> o All Arcadia gleams. 29 30 LEGENDS. First Apollo warms her forehead With electric beams : Bacchus bathes her lips with nectar Worthy of the god : Her w r hite feet Vertumnus covers With a fragrant sod. Lo ! the radiant transformation ! One by one unclose Tendrils, leaves, and snowy petals Of the perfect Rose ! All the nymph's remembered graces Hover round the flower, Sweetness, tenderness, and passion Still her beauty's dower. Soon the praise of the Immortals To a richer flush Warms the rose her colors brighten To Aurora's blush ; Then the nightingale in rapture Warbles sweet and long Till a hue of love's vermilion Answers to his song. THE BIRTH OF THE HOSE. 31 " Bloom forever nymph enchanted ! ' The Olympians cry " Kindred both to earth and heaven, Thou shalt never die ! r Down through centuries of blossom, <3 t Ages of delight, Still the royal rose of summer Opens on our sight. And the half-bewildered fancy Through the fragrant bowers Searches for the haunting mystery Of this flower of flowers. 'T is the nymph so deftly hidden In a leafy shrine, In her golden heart still throbbing Memories divine. Ever silent, ever seeing, Every heart she knows, All thy love, thy hope, thy longing Whisper to the Rose ! BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. IN the far north, when the midsummer night Is but the sunset wedded to the light Of a new morning, upon cliff and hill Burns the bale-fire to Baldur : as its flame Salutes the sleepless sun, the Norsemen still Utter that sacred name, And year by year the wonder-myth is told Of Baldur, joy of men and gods in days of old ! On royal Asgard's height No god like Baldur beamed upon the sight. Others were mighty, he was pure as light. Pleasant his voice as rivulets, his eyes Sun bright and radiant as midsummer skies, And his long yellow locks gave forth perfumes When the wind-giant shook with glee his eagle plumes. All living things adored him. Singing birds Their joyance caught from listening to his words, 32 BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 33 Flames, floods, winds, lightnings, in accordant breath Vowed that to him should come no stroke of death. The ores and rocks, the mosses, vines, and trees, The strong, tumultuous seas Gave glad response, and it was sung and said By all the beams above, the shades below, The snow-white feet of Baldur ne'er should tread The path of wail and woe Down to the ice-walled dwelling of the dead. One thing alone was dumb, the creeping mistletoe ! Thus in no fear of death, the gods at play Made him their target, Avhile the midnight sun Smiled o'er the wide, pale moors with mellow ray, Half evening and half day, And Baldur lightly caught and tossed away Sword, lance, or arrow, till with victories won His brow grew dazzling, and the farthest fields Of Ass-ard were illumined, and the shields O ' Upon Valhalla with his image shone. Then stepped the blind old god Hoder upon the arrow-sprinkled sod ; 34 LEGENDS. He too would share the merriment. Ah! woe! To Baldur's heart sped straight the fated mistletoe ! Beautiful as a marble god he lay, When life had ebbed away, Or like a rose tree in its prime cut down With all its flowery crown. Time never knew a more despairing cry Than smote the startled sky. It reached the utmost depths of death and night, And Hela, goddess terrible to sight, Trembled upon her throne, And gazed on the white ghost she dared not call her own. But swift a messenger had followed him, And at the portals grim Knocked loud. " What ransom, Hela, shall be given By heroes of the earth and gods of Heaven, To win beloved Baldur back to life ? Already discord mutters sounds of strife And clouds of vengeance gather. Speak and take The wealth of land and ocean for his sake ! r BALDUR THE BEAUTIFUL. 35 And as Valhalla's message borne above The mists of Nifflehem, on wings of love, Readied Hela's seat, with sudden pity moved, She spoke "If Baldur was so greatly loved, Bid all the world to weep ; the heart-wrung moan Of every living thing may melt Death's heart of stone." The wide world heard and with a rain of tears Gave answer, but in all the countless years Baldur returns not, and no later skies Have smiled upon his vanished Paradise. Though the soft falling dews bring new-born o o o day "With fresh, alluring ray, The winter frosts dissolve in penitent grief And open bud and leaf, Baldur the Beautiful takes not his place Fairest of human as of godlike race, Earth has not tears enough to bring again O O O Lost innocence, pure peace, Heaven's primal THE GARDEN OF IREM. WHEEE burns beneath Arabia's dazzling sky The desert waste of Aden, leafless, bare, A stately garden on the Elysian air Its beauty shed, entrancing every eye. An oasis of green, Brilliant with flowers and silvery waters' sheen. The fig and olive yielded fragrant shade, The vine with royal purple decked the wall ; Sweet was the music of the fountain's fall, Whose dancing drops among the roses played, And all the balmy night The bulbul trilled his tremulous A palace in the midst arose, whose towers The sunshine mocked with gilded opulence, Its inner court reflected rays intense, Inlaid with gems that sparkled 'mid the flowers. Through glistening wires of gold, Birds rainbow-hued their plaintive numbers told. 36 THE GARDEN OF IREM. 37 The doors were ever open, and the sound Of ceaseless mirth made day most musical, Never was heard the trumpet's warning call, For feast and pageant led the year around. Till Irem's happy name The symbol of terrestrial bliss became. Then suddenly while yet the warbling lute Vibrated to the dancer's jewelled feet, The Simoom of the desert, fierce and fleet, Swept by, and Irem was forever mute ! A blinding sea of sand Hid the delight of all the mourning land. O O Long ages passed ; and men had ceased to heed The story, till Colabah sought one day A camel which had wandered far away Beyond Al Ahkaf's dreary plain to feed ; And as the hour grew late He found himself within a palace gate. High, gilded towers within a garden rare, A blooming waste from whence all life had flown, For vacant windows in the sunlight shone And fruit, unpluck'd, with sweets oppress'd the air. 'Mid creamy blossoms hung Cages of twisted gold that empty swung. 38 LEGENDS. A moment with strange rapture he perceived The blaze of beauty, then the deathly calm Smote him with sudden sense of nameless harm. Backward he turned ; yet fain to be believed, He grasped with hasty hand A few, bright pebbles from the sparkling sand. Then swiftly fleeing, to his comrades bore The tale of Irem's splendor lost and found ; Nor could they scoff, when, from his robe unbound, He showed his treasure of mysterious ore. For lo ! the sunset kissed Rare stones of topaz, agate, amethyst ! Vainly at morning's break they searched the plain For its hid treasure. The unanswering sands Kept well the secret of their Genii's hands, ISTor yielded Irem to the world again. But with serenest flame Still glowed the gems and told Colabah's fame. Ah ! thus the Bard whom inspiration leads Into the realm of visionary thought. In hidden paths, by bowers divinely wrought, THE GARDEN OF I HEM. 39 Upon enchanted fruits his fancy feeds. Till suddenly he spies Unreal splendors deck his Paradise, Then fleeing, half in rapture, half in fright, He seeks the world of daily life once more : / The charm is lost, the bloom, the brilliance o'er. Yet happy if he gathered in his flight, To shine through many days, One priceless gem of beauty, love or praise. ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. AT St. Andrew's Convent gate Gregory, monk of pious fame, Day by day at vesper bell Heard a beggar call his name. oo" And from prayer or chanted hymn By unwearied patience led, Still w T ith helpful word and gift He the stranger comforted. All he gave : the relic last, Dearest of his meagre store, Not till then he pitying plead " Importune me, friend, no more ! ' Years passed on ; the lowly monk Sat upon the pontiff's throne, The tiara, with the heart Of all Rome, was now his own. Yet in high as low estate Gave he richly from his store, 40 ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 41 Twelve poor men each eventide Supped within his palace door. And as once he sat with them, Earnest each one's need to know, He perceived a stranger guest All the others placed below. To his steward beckoned he " One unbidden friend is here Go, salute him ! bid him take Freely of our evening cheer." Down the room the servant passed ; " Only twelve are here to night." " Count again ! behold he sits d? Where the sunshine lingers bright ; O O * " See his yellow, flowing hair Blending with the sunset flame ! Pale his brow, serene his gaze I would know from whence he came." Once again with troubled haste Up and down the steward glides ; " Twelve good pilgrims sup with thee, And no alien 'mid them hides." 42 LEGENDS. " It is well," the Father said, But his heart within him shook 5 He perceived that in their midst One unseen the feast partook ! On the room a silence fell, Silence as of heavenly grace Ah ! how burned the sunset gold On each pilgrim's bended face, And upon the threshold poised, Mindful of the unwonted spell, Lo ! a silver plumaged dove Trilled a mellow canticle ! One by one the guests withdrew, Then the stranger coming near Silent paused the pontiff's lips Trembling asked " What dost thou here ? " " Gregory ! at St. Andrew's gate Oft to me thy alms were given, Fear not now thy soul's desire In my name to ask of Heaven ! " As he spoke celestial rays Soft around his forehead flowed, ST. GREGORY'S GUEST. 43 And his form from earth upraised In a violet nimbus glowed. Slow the shining vision passed All his soul in thanks outpoured, Blessed Gregory cried aloud, " I have entertained the Lord ! " A STORM FANTASY. THE lonely wind a Banshee of despair Wails through the wintry night, And the affrighted Moon, no longer fair, Veils her wan face from sight. She knows the signals of that voice and why With his keen moan he desolates the sky. The sad, sad Rain comes sobbing at his call, She smites the earth with tears " There is no rest," she sighs " no rest in all The ever-dying years. In cloudland hid I would forever stay, Why call me thence to weep my life away ? ' Thus as the ages pass ; and who may know Or dare to tell again The legend of these spectres and their woe, The grieving Wind and Rain ? O O Lovers perchance in some primeval world, For darkest treachery into darkness hurled ! 44 A STORM FANTASY. 45 Still mocked by hope and haunted by regret They seek the earth again, Yearning to meet each other they forget Their wish is always vain. For he has but a voice of wordless woe, She has but tears that blind her as they flow. O lost, lost spirits of the storm and night ! Listening to you I know There is a depth to which no ray of light From Heaven's expanse can flow. Come, Ans^el of the morning, come ao-ain ! * d? CJ ' ^j Speak "Peace be still! "unto the Wind and Rain. TUBA. 'T is written on the flowery page Of Islam's visionary sage, That Tuba tree of happiness, Whose fruit shall all believers bless, Hath roots whose fibres strong and deep Beneath the world's foundations sleep, Yet never wind of earth shall blow The odors from one spicy bough. Far up beyond the walls of time The star-bespangled branches climb, Up through the musky gardens where Eternal sunshine gilds the air, And winged Houris flutter by To low, delicious melody. There over every palace door The boughs of Tuba fragrance pour 46 TUBA. 47 And sweet bells hung amid the flowers ~ Ring in and out the joyous hours. Has not the orient sage declared A truth which every soul has shared ? We pluck the green leaves of delight The branches reach beyond our sight ; The germ of happiness is ours, But airs diviner hide the flowers. Here disappointment, gaunt and gray, Salutes us daily on our way, The truest love knows direst loss, The surest triumph bears a cross, And yet the soul may smile on fate And with most loyal patience wait, Believing that on heights unknown V I ^J She yet will come unto her own Where Islam's tree, transfigured, gleams With fairer fruit than Islam dreams ! IN days of old, In solitude and silence grew the hour When God and Nature first beheld unfold The solitary flower. Purple as night Its petals opened in the forest gloom, And the winds pausing in their seaward flight Inhaled the strange perfume. The hoary oak Felt in its branches a responsive thrill, The eagle from his lonely eyrie spoke, And all again was still. n. Unwritten ages rolled Into the past, and as each century's bell Struck the full hour, the blossom would unfold, With none its tale to tell. 48 TEE CENTURY PLANT. 49 At last the silence ceased, The desert wilderness a voice had found. Strange wanderers from the overflowing East Sought here a hunting ground. The shadow-haunted glades Echoed the savage song the warrior cry And wild, barbaric worship filled the shades With awful mystery. Life warm and new Through the dull fibres of the tree was shed; The swelling buds revealed a living hue Tinge of the morning red. in. Not unblest The thousand years of silence and of night ; Unto the hidden gardens of the West God said " Let there be light ! " And behold ! It blooms again, the latest flower of Time ! In the dark ages who could have foretold The glory of its prime ? 50 LEGENDS. Palmiest days Of Grecian grandeur or of Roman pride Saw not their century bloom in such a blaze Of fame, full-orbed, world-wide. Heaven, bend low ! From the last, lingering gloom our land release ! Let the perfection of the ages blow White as the plume of Peace ! A TUSCAN LEGEND. good St. Ambrose paused at close of day Before a Tuscan noble's open door, With welcome words the host his entrance urged And spread before him of his choicest store. Within, the palace shone with gems of art, Bronze, marble, gold, in forms antique and rare, Refreshing fountains tossed a snowy spray, And sumptuous roses sweetened all the air. The fasting saint with thanks the food partook, And with his fellow-pilgrims silent shared, Then, still reclining at the table, sought Of his kind host if well or ill he fared. Glowed with a haughty joy the Tuscan's brow, "All things are well with me," his proud reply 'My wealth provides for each luxurious want, Nor knows ambition one unanswered sigh. 51 52 LEGENDS. "My slaves, obedient, watch my lightest look; My children, beautiful, enhance my joy ; Pain, mourning, in this palace are unknown, My state is happiness without alloy." What said the saint ? Up from that lordly board He rose in haste, his visnge pale with fear, And to the startled pilgrims cried aloud, " Flee from this place ! the Lord abides not here." Outspoken saint ! Thy words may well convey Terror and comfort to the end of time ; Woe, to the soul sufficient to itself, But to the stricken, prophecy sublime. Grief is the shadow of the Lord's approach, Darkness, the pathway of the Bethlehem star, Let him exult whom sacred sorrow leads To reach for God, and find He is not far! THE HELIOTROPE. SOMEWHERE 't is told that in an Eastern land, Clasped in the dull palm of a mummy's hand A few lii^ht seeds were found : with wondering o eyes And words of awe was lifted up the prize. And much they marvelled what could be so dear Of herb or flower as to be treasured here, What sacred vow had made the dying keep So close this token for his last long sleep. None ever knew, but in the fresh, warm earth The cherished seeds sprang to a second birth, And eloquent once more with love and hope Burst into bloom the purple heliotrope. Embalmed, perhaps, with sorrow's fiery tears, Out of the silence of a thousand years It answered back the passion of the past With the pure breath of perfect peace at last. 53 54 LEGENDS. O pulseless heart ! as ages pass, sleep well ! The purple flower thy secret will not tell, But only to our eager quest reply, " Love, hidden in the grave, can never die." THE FIRST AT THE FEAST. ST. MARTIX once, an honored guest, Sat at the royal board ; With his own hand a cup of wine The gracious sovereign poured, And bade, with smiles, the favored priest Drink first, as greatest at the feast. The father took the sparkling cup, With priceless gems it blazed, And down the gleaming banquet hall In thoughtful silence gazed. How shone the place with splendors rare ! Was he indeed the greatest there ? What to the King of Kings availed This pomp of earthly state ? What unto Him were crown and throne And soldiers at the gate ? The flowers, the lights, the lustrous gold, The music that voluptuous rolled? 55 56 LEGENDS. Would Heaven's high Sovereign deem him great. O O O ' Because a fleeting hour He sunned himself in royal smiles And shared imperial power ? Ah ! nobler far the humblest there Who meekly served in trust and prayer. "Not unto me ! " he spoke at last And beckoned with his hand To a poor priest who waiting stood To hear his least command. " By worldly glory undefiled, Drink thou, our Master's worthier child ! ' The priest obeyed ; the monarch heard A voice beyond his own ; Nobles and warriors bowed in awe Of a superior throne. And in the hush St. Martin's face Seemed to illumine all the place ! TEARS OF ISIS. WHEN Isis, by true mother love oppressed, Held wounded Horus to her goddess breast, Each tear that touched the sympathetic earth To some rich, aromatic herb gave birth. Such healing sprang from her celestial pain, Mortals no longer seek relief in vain, For oft as spring awakes the slumbering years, In wood and meadow blossom Isis' tears. O Goddess of the starry lotus bloom ! Thou didst foreshadow many a lonely doom ; Thy sorrow by divinest alchemy Could comfort others, who could comfort thee? 57 VIDAR THE SILENT. WHEN the last bird flutters southward As the sunlight fainter glows, And into the dim November A pensive stillness flows, When the mountain summits wrap them In robes of brown and gold, I think of the Norsemen's Vidar, The silent god of old. He dwells in the boundless forests, In pathless wilds unknown, He loves the breeze-rocked prairies, And the mountains are his own. In the bloom of songful summer He shuns the haunts of men, But he comes with the days of darkness To look on the world again. By the bleak and desolate sea-shore The waves their tumult cease, The rivulets know his footfall And tremble into peace. 58 VIDAR THE SILENT. 59 The wind steals into the forest, The tall trees watchful stand, And the stars hang mute and pensive As he roams the leafless land. No voice nor speech has Vidar, And his features no man knows, But he lays his hand on the heart-strings And wonderful music flows ; As if the reverberations Of a long and sorrowful past Were slowly ascending and blending With the peace that shall come at last. Thus Vidar the Silent passes Over the world's wide space, Giving to all who greet him One beautiful hour of grace. Then welcome the tuneless branches ! Welcome the darkened days ! There shall be light on the shadows And in the stillness, praise. SONG OF PLYMOUTH ROCK. A THOUSAND years I kept My watch by the slumbering sea, A thousand omens read Of the day that was coming to me. 'T was uttered by wind and wave And whispered by cloud and star, " The soul of Freedom sleeps until The c Mayflower ' sails from far." The tide came surging up From the depths of ocean's caves, And ever a promise brought Of the bark that would cross the waves , The tide went rolling down O In surf and swell and foam, And ever I dreamed it ran to bid The " Mayflower " welcome home ! It fell with the falling snow, The word of fate at last, 60 OF PL Y MOUTH ROCK. 61 And the hailing bell of freedom rang In the stormy, wintry blast. " O sea ! " I said " be kind ! Be faithful sky and star ! With priceless freight to all the land The " Mayflower " rides afar. She was moored within the bay, Pale blossom of the sea And the boats went to and fro Until all were brought to me. O I had waited long For the touch of those pilgrim feet : The wintry air grew redolent With incense strange and sweet, For the gate of heaven swung wide And angels thronged the air, As that Pilgrim band their voices raised O In fervent praise and prayer. They were feeble, faint and few, That little sea-tossed flock, But never en earth will the echo die, Of that prayer upon the Rock. 62 LEGENDS. The wanderers passed on To watch and toil and die, And the " Mayflower " homeward sailed And was lost in the morning sky ; But wide over all the land, Free as the sunlight's ray, Grow the fearless faith, the fervent zeal Which came to shore that day. Now evermore I watch By the side of the sounding sea, Muse and ponder and dream Of the glory that came to me. For Freedom crossed the deep To a heritage unknown ; The " Mayflower " was her ark of hope, The Rock her altar-stone. NOROMBEGA. MIDSUMMER'S crimson moon Above the hills like some night-opening rose Uplifted, pours its beauty down the vale Where broad Penobscot flows. The night is all in bloom With subtle sweetness from the skies distilled, The vesper wind in whispers steals along, By the soft silence thrilled. Of old the fairy world Held royal revel on midsummer's eve, Once more along the moonbeams they may come The twinkling dance to weave ; Or by the moonlight spell Entranced, and listening with attentive ear, The drowsy whispers of the ripening leaves And harvests, I may hear. Now on the field of night No longer blooms one solitary rose! 63 64 LEGENDS. With countless groups of silver-petalled stars The infinite garden glows, And the transfigured moon, Grown paler, clearer, like a lily white, Immaculate in beauty, hangs above The starry wreath of night. A splendid glamour drowns All sound in silence; even the lapping wave Just trembles to the shore, with stilly touch The lonely rock to lave. And I remember now, That this is haunted ground. In ages past Here stood the storied Norombecja's walls O Magnificent and vast. The streets were ivory-paved, The stately walls were built of golden ore, Its domes outshone the sunset, and full boughs O Hesperian fruitage bore. And up this winding flood Has wandered many a sea-tossed, daring bark, While ea^er eyes have scanned the ruined shore, O * ~C? Or pierced the wild wood dark ; NOROMBEGA. 65 But watched in vain : afar They saw the spires gleam golden on the sky, The distant drum-beat heard, or bugle note, Wound wildly, fitfully, Banners of strange device Beckoned from distant heights, yet as the stream Narrowed among the hills, the city fled, A mystery, or a dream. In the deep forest hid Like the enchanted princess of romance, Wooing an endless search, yet still secure In her unbroken trance. city of the Past ! No mirage of the wilderness wert thou ! Though yet unfreed from the mysterious spell, 1 deem thee slumbering now. Perhaps invisible feet White-sandalled pass amid the moonbeams pale, Yon shadow-wave may be some lordly barge Drifting with phantom sail. The legend was not all A myth, it was a prophecy as well : 66 LEGENDS. In Norombega's cloud-wrapt palaces The living yet shall dwell. Fed by its hundred lakes Here shall the river run o'er golden sands, These hills in burnished tower and temple shine Beneath the builder's hands ! Where tarries still the hour When the true knight shall the enchantment O break, Unveil the peerless city of the east, The charmed princess wake ? Till then, O River, tell To none but dreaming bards the Future's boon ! Till then guard thou the mystery of the vale, Midsummer midnight moon ! KINEO. THE LEGEND OF MOOSSHEAD LAKE. How beautiful the morning breaks Upon the King of mountain lakes ! The forests, far as eye can reach, Stretch green and still from either beach, And leagues away the water's gleam Resplendent in the sunrise beam ; Yet feathery vapors, circling slow Wreathe the dark brow of Kineo. The hermit Mount in sullen scorn Repels the rosy touch of morn, As some remorseful, lonely heart, From human pleasure set apart, Shrinks even from the tender touch Of pity, lest it yield too much, So speechless still to friend or foe, Frowns the black cliff of Kineo. Yet, as the whispering ripples break From the still surface of the lake On the repellent rocks, they seem To murmur low, as in a dream, 67 68 LEGENDS. The mountain's name, and day by day The listening breezes bear away A memory of the long ago., A sad, wild tale of Kineo. How many moons can no man say O'er heaven's blue sea have sailed away, Since Kineo and his fleet canoe First vanished from his kindred's view. Hunter and warrior, lithe and keen, No brave on all the lake was seen Whose wigwani could such trophies show, As the green roof of Kineo. But wrathful, jealous, quick to strife, He lived a passion-darkened life ; Even Maquaso, his mother, fled His baneful lodge in mortal dread. Then gathering round the midnight fire, The old men spake with threatenings dire " Out from our councils he must go, The demon-haunted Kineo ! " In sullen and remorseful mood He gave himself to solitude. Up the wild rocks by night he bore Of all he prized a stealthy'store, KINEO. 69 Flint, arrows, knife and birch. Who knows But some dark lock or dead wild rose, The phantom of an untold woe, Shared the lone haunt of Kineo ? The mountain was his own ; than he None other dared its mystery. None sought to meet the savage glare Of the wild hunter in his lair : But when far up the mountain side Each night a lurid flame they spied, The watchful red men muttered low, " There hides our brother Kineo." Years passed. Among the storm-swept pines From moon to moon he read the signs Of blossom and decay. He knew The eagle that familiar flew About his path. The fearless bird His melancholy accents heard, But glen or shore no more might know The swift, still step of Kineo, Save once. His tribe in deadly fray Had battled all the lowering day, And many a brave Penobscot's blood Was mingling in the lake's pure flood, 70 LEGENDS. When like a spectre, through the gloom, With gleaming knife and eagle plume, And glance that burned with lurid glow, Strode the bold form of Kineo ! A hush like death and then a cry, Fierce and exultant, pierced the sky I They rallied round that fiery plume And smote the foe with hopeless doom. But when the grateful warriors fain Would seek his well-known face again, Their gifts and homage to bestow, Gone, like a mist, was Kineo. They saw him not, but from that hour They bowed before his wizard power ; His watch-fire grew to be a shrine Half terrible and half divine. None ever knew when death drew nigh, When into darker mystery Of cloud above or deep below Stole the sad ghost of Kineo. But when his camp-fire burned no more, The solitary mountain bore His name; and when at times the sky Grew dark, a long, despairing sigh K1NEO. 71 Down the dark precipices rolled And tempest terrible foretold. The fishers feared the wind, the snow, The lightning, less than Kineo. Now beautiful the morning skies Look on this forest paradise; Fresh voices, loud and joyous, wake The echoes of the grand old lake : But underneath that frowning height The shadow and the spell of night Come back : the oars fall still and slow, The waves sigh, Peace to Jfineof THE BOWDOIN OAK. Planted in 1802 by George Thorndike, a member of the first class of Bowdoin. He died at the age of twenty-one, the only one of that class remembered by the students of Bowdoin to-day. Oration of T. 7?. Simon ton. YE breezy boughs of Bowdoin's oak, Sing low your summer rune ! In murmuring, rhythmic tones respond To every breath of June ; And memories of the joyous youth, Through all your songs repeat, Who plucked the acorn from the twig Blown lightly to his feet, And gayly to his fellows cried : "My destiny behold ! This seed shall keep my memory green In ages yet untold. " I trust it to the sheltering sod, I hail the promised tree ! Sing, unborn oak, through long decades, And ever sing of me ! ' THE BOW DO IN OAK. 1 By cloud and sunbeam nourished well, The tender sapling grew, Less stalwart than the rose which drank From the same cup of dew ; But royal blood was in its veins, Of true Hellenic line, And sunward reached its longing arms With impulses divine. The rushing river as it passed Caught whispers from the tree, And each returning tide brought back The answer of the sea. Till to the listening groves a voice, New and harmonious, spoke, And from a throne of foliage looked The spirit of the oak ! Then birds of happiest omen built High in its denser shade, And grand responses to the storms The sounding branches made. Beneath its bower the bard beloved His budding chaplet wore, o 74 LEGENDS. The wizard kin<? of romance dreamed ^ His wild, enchanting lore ; And scholars, musing in its shade, Here heard their country's cry Their lips gave back " O sweet it is For native land to die! ' With hearts that burned they cast aside These peaceful, oaken bays ; The hero's blood-red path they trod Be theirs the hero's praise. Oh, though Dodona's voice is hushed, A new, intenser flame Stirs the proud oak to whisper still Some dear illustrious name ! And what of him whose happy mood Foretold this sylvan birth ? In boyhood's prime he sank to rest ; His work was done on earth. Brief was his race, and light his task For immortality, His only tribute to the years The planting of a tree. THE BOWDOIN OAK. 75 Sing low, green oak, thy summer rune, Sing valor, love and truth, Thyself a fair, embodied thought, A living dream of youth. LYRICS. 77 LTEIOS. EASTER MORNING. i. OSTEKA ! spirit of springtime, Awake from thy slumbers deep ! Arise ! and with hands that are glowing, Put off the white garments of sleep ! Make thyself fair, O goddess ! In new and resplendent array, For the footsteps of Him who has risen Shall be heard in the dawn of day. Flushes the trailing arbutus Low under the forest leaves, A sign that the drowsy goddess The breath of her Lord perceives. 79 80 LYRICS. While He suffered, her pulse beat numbly ; While He slept, she was still with pain ; But now He awakes 'He has risen Her beauty shall bloom again. O hark ! in the budding woodlands, Now far, now near, is heard The first prelusive w r arble Of rivulet and of bird. O listen! the Jubilate From every bough is poured, And earth in the smile of the springtime Arises to greet her Lord ! ii. Radiant goddess Aurora ! Open the chambers of dawn ; Let the Hours like a garland of graces Encircle the chariot of morn. Thou dost herald no longer Apollo, The god of the sunbeam and lyre ; The pride of his empire is ended, And pale is his armor of fire. From a loftier height than Olympus Light flows, from the Temple above, EASTER MORNING. 81 And the mists of old legends are scattered 37 In the dawn of the Kingj-dom of Love. O Come forth from the cloudland of fable, For day in full splendor make room, For a triumph that lost not its glory As it paused in the sepulchre's gloom. She comes ! the bright goddess of morning, In crimson and purple array, Far down on the hill-tops she tosses The first golden lilies of day. O'er the mountains her sandals are glowing, O'er the valleys she speeds on the wing, Till earth is all rosy and radiant For the feet of the new-risen King. in. Open the gates of the Temple ; Spread brandies of palm and of bay; Let not the spirits of Nature Alone deck the Conqueror's way. While Spring from her death-sleep arises, And joyous His presence awaits, While Morning's smile lights up the Heavens, Open the Beautiful Gates ! 82 LYRICS. He is here ! the lonsj watches are over, o The stone from the grave rolled away ; " We shall sleep," was the sigh of the midnight.' " We shall rise," is the song of to-day. O Music ! no longer lamenting, On pinions of tremulous flame Go soaring to meet the Beloved, O * And swell the new song of His fame ! The altar is snowy with blossoms, The font is a vase of perfume, On pillar and chancel are twining Fresh garlands of eloquent bloom. Christ is risen ! with glad lips we utter ; And far up the infinite height Archangels the paaan re-echo, And crown Him with lilies of Light ! URANIA. FROM what superior star Gazing, entranced, afar, Didst them first look on earth when earth was young ? Thou whom the singers of all days have sung, Spirit of Song ! by many names adored, Whose deep, sweet speech, the music of the soul, Our human utterance cannot yet control, Upon whose dazzling shrine are ceaseless offer- ings poured. When first thy sun-shod feet Pressed the new verdure, sweet With timid violet and virgin rose, When first thy rainbow plumage passing by, The shepherd bards discerned, ah ! rapturously They sought thy inspiration to disclose. With burning heart and glances raised above, Speech overflowed in song, and all their theme was love. 83 84 LYRICS. Nor didst thou linger long In vales of pastoral song. Judea's harp thy fervid fingers strung. The groves of palm, the sacred rivers heard, The cedars upon Lebanon were stirred When David's lips immortal measures sung. And smoke of costliest odors rose to heaven With chorus and response by Hebrew voices given. On Orpheus' glowing lyre Was laid thy touch of fire ; By thy own lips, on Sappho's brow was pressed The mystic kiss which woke her soul's unrest. Unveiled by thee in thy most radiant mood The palaces that on Olympus stood, From whose charmed portals came at thy decree The gods of earth and heaven, the nymphs of air and sea. Then was the age of gold, When bards heroic told Heroic legends of primeval days. Then had the singer his full meed of praise, For thou didst touch the laurel with thy wand, And prince and warrior with exultant hand URANIA. 85 Wove the bright bays around the minstrel's name. Their valor was his theme ; his song their surest fame. Yet not by these was seen The splendor of thy mien, The full, unclouded glory of thy face ; These caught but glimpses of the light divine, And counting thee among the " sacred nine," Groped in the darkness for thy dwelling-place. Milton alone o'er elder bards prevailed, Upon the starry heights he saw thy brow unveiled. Dearer through ages grown, Thou wilt not leave alone The world thy presence has made half divine. Still countless votaries bow before thy shrine ; The Norseman's ringing ballad, the soft chime Of Spanish lute to silver-sandalled rhyme, The hymn of freedom by the sunset sea, Or Persia's passion-lays, all sacred are to thee. Some a v e content to reach The still, inaudible speech Of winds and woods and waters' rhythmic flow ; These know thee best in Nature's whispers low, 86 LTEICS. And with the hem of thy rich garment pressed To tuneful lips, they are supremely blest. Others have caught a more transcendent gleam, And greet thee on the heights of prophecy and dream. Stay, thou resplendent one ! Not yet thy task is done, Not yet the perfect song of ages sung ! A rose unblown it sleeps upon thy breast, Waiting to make some later Eden blest. Still be the halo of thy beauty flung Over dark days, dark years, until afar Above the new song's birth, thou smilest like a a star ! ONLY WAITING. ONLY waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown, Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day's last beam is flown ; Till the night of earth is faded From this heart once full of day, Till the dawn of Heaven is breaking Through the twilight soft and gray. Only waiting till the reapers Have the last sheaf gathered home, For the summer-time hath faded And the autumn winds are come. Quickly, reapers, gather quickly The last ripe hours of my heart For the bloom of life is withered, And I hasten to depart. Only waiting till the angels Open wide the mystic gate, At whose feet I long have lingered, Weary, poor, and desolate. 87 88 LYRICS. Even now I hear their footsteps And their voices far away : If they call me I am waiting, Only waiting to obey. Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown, o o / Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day's last beam is flown ; Then from out the folded darkness Holy, deathless stars shall rise, By whose light my soul will gladly Wing her passage to the skies. ARCADIA. WE heard it first on an April morn, If rung by fairies I cannot tell, But earth was smiling o'er flowers new-born, And birds home coming to wood and dell With jubilant music saluted the dawn, When far in the distance we heard a sweet bell, A flute-like echo, a dulcet strain, That pierced our hearts with a tender pain, The bell-call of Arcadia. " Where can we find it ? " we asked the wise Who musing sat in the willow shade. They, looking on us with wistful eyes, Answer vague to our question made : "Nor east nor west that fair land lies, A seal of magic is on it laid ; But love and longing the spell unbind, And he who follows at last may find The hidden land, Arcadia. 89 90 LYRICS. "Down evergreen mountains in sparkling sheen A hundred rivulets seek the sea; Flocks, snow-white, feed in the pastures green, And under the boughs of the dark fir-tree To shepherd minstrels of joyous mien The wood-god Pan pipes cheerily. Always summer days, blithe and long. Always melody, bloom, and song, In the fair land of Arcadia." We could not linger. With hearts that beat Wild with lono-ino; and fond desire, o o We followed the call of the bell so sweet. " Soon," we said, " will that sylvan lyre With witching welcome our senses Greet. C.7 Ere sunset brightens yon purple spire We shall rest among roses our weary feet." Was it fancy ? The dear home violets' eyes Seemed brimming with tears of sad surprise But away to rare Arcadia ! Many a morning's ruddy tide Flooded the midnight's desolate bar, Many a sunset splendor died, - Yet Hope rekindled the evening star, And still o'er desert or mountain side We heard the silvery chime afar, AECADIA. 91 Calling " Hither, O pilgrim feet, Here your rest shall be full and sweet In green groves of Arcadia." At times the kiss of a sudden breeze With tropic odors our senses stirred, Breath of scarlet pomegranite trees And lotus blossoms. We surely heard The low, soft rhythm of summer seas, The brooding note of the Halcyon bird. Onward we pressed : so near, at last, One more brief shadow of woodland past, And then our blest Arcadia ! But after the woodland, the black ravine, And further, a long, lone mountain height, There, as we clambered with saddened mien, In the fading Autumn's sunset light For the leaves were russet that once were green Pilgrims numberless met our sight, Snow-white locks on the evening wind, O And mournfully, steadfastly looking behind They sighed, " Farewell, Arcadia ! ' We too looked back, and a wonderful ? Lay on the landscape our feet had passed ; 92 LYRICS. Clearer the morning and softer than night, O'er all the road was the glamor cast. And there, revealed to our yearning sight, The beautiful valley lay at last. Far back where the April violets grew, There smiled, amid crystals of deathless dew, Our first and last Arcadia ! A BUDDHIST VISION. I. Ix his night-watch beneath the Banian tree Buddha, the blessed, saw the years unsealed, And change on change of wondrous destiny In his own life revealed ; Saw the long path of darkness and of pain, From tiger crouching in his jungle lair, To priest grown wan with fasting and with prayer Nirvana's peace to gain.. If for one hour his vision we might share, O ' His moonlight faith accepting, stand aside From the strong sunshine of to-day, and dare Down the dark past to glide, By what fantastic labyrinths of space, Through what ripe moments of unconscious doom, What endless links of motion, music, bloom, Our lineage we niiqlit trace! O O 93 94 LYEICS. II. My eyes were opened. Down the years unknown, In a dim forest I beheld afar A fragile plant amid whose leaves had grown One blossom, like a star. Nurtured in gloom, in speechless solitude It watched the hour which brought a sunbeam near, Thus opening, fading, many a hopeless vear, Till strange unrest imbued Its feeble pulse. Unheard of all its kind Its first, last sigh was breathed. And lo ! no more A blossom, but a lightly wandering wind It roamed the woodland o'er ! Out where the sunshine gilded all the land It tossed the long plumes of the ripening wheat, Or seaward ran, the joyous waves to meet, And played along the strand, How long I know not. Fn a greenwood nook o c? It found a rivulet dancing in the sun, A BUDDHIST VISION. It lingered, dallied, whispered with the brook Till wave and wind were one. O then what joy in melody new-born ! What dimpled, prattling infancy of song, In summer twilights beautiful and long, And in the rosy dawn ! Until green branches waving free and strong Mingled above the stream in choral high ; The brook was hushed, it heard a nobler song And nearer to the sky. So when the summer burned along the lea, And fiery drought crept down the withered glen, The spirit of the brook went forth again Into a laurel tree. Now was it conscious of a larger life, Wide outlook, vigorous growth, the w r elcome change Of freshening foliage. Every pulse was rife With strivins new and strane. Exultant in its beauty, ardent beams Swelled the rich buds and burst the creamy flowers, 96 LYRICS. Yet as it rocked the birds in tuneful hours It heard, as if in dreams, A note its solemn measure had not learned, A tone all other melodies above Of wind, or wave or boughs that skyward turned, It w r as the note of love ! Stricken at last the tree gave forth its breath, Far in a tropic nest a bird! ing stirred. O nightingale ! no passing wing of death Thy waking rapture heard. Cradled in roses, upon roses fed, Sweeter, diviner grew thy honeyed strain, The tender, haunting, passionate refrain Of many summers fled. Unto a state of royalty was risen The spirit which forever had desired A height untried, and like a soul in prison Still panted and aspired. There came a sun-winged seraph. Stooping low He whispered, " Singer, yet another change Must come. Thy song, to reach sublimest range, Must human sorrow know." A BUDDHIST VISION. 97 And thus it came to pass one starry dawn The nightingale would never waken more ; But in the northland by a stormy shore A poet-child was born, With many gifts and riches for his dower, The deep desire for beauty and for light Which rent the pale soul of the forest flower, And the intense delight In freedom which the roving wind had known, Such rapture as had thrilled the brook, the tree, With love beyond the bulbul's minstrelsy, And sorrow's mightier tone. in. Return, O Vision ! Shed one other ray If from Nirvana or the holier Heaven ! The years fall fast, the Poet must away : What new song shall be given ? The veil is dropt. Gautama's blissful shade Is vanished and the brief illusion fled. I only know that every life must fade, And silent are the dead. 98 LYRICS. But if from many and from fair estates Comes the true accent to the Poet's lips, Rich heritage beyond this last eclipse The high-born Singer waits. GREENWOOD GREETINGS. THE morning of the year Flushes again these northern glades. Awake, O slumbering branches ! Once again the cheer And comradeship of other summers take On your mute faces. Answer me again, And tell your winter's dream of ecstasy or pain. Then first the maples stirred, Their drooping blossoms trembling with delight, And said " The nio-ht is over ! we have heard O The brook rejoicing in the breaking light The rapture of the rain Over the lost arbutus, found again; The sod grows velvet green beneath our feet ; Homeward the robins fly, and life again is sweet ! ' The pine tree flung Its tassels to the wind and proudly sung, "I dreamed of lands where over leagues of ice O The skaters joyous flew. Of northern lights 99 100 LYRICS. Flaming along the skies in strange device, Of reindeer speeding through the glimmering nights. The forest trembled with old Odin's signs O Of stormy pain, but all undaunted sung the pines ! ' : The elm returned " Of summer was my dream the long night through. O * Of sunset-fires where myriad roses burned, Giving their beauty back in morning dew. Of interlacing boughs O O Festooned in arches meet for lover's vows, And of the golden robin's nest that clung Near to my heart, which throbbed whene'er the birdlins sun." . O Rough-hooded fir, O ' Why dost thou beckon to the juniper With signs of joy ? Slow waved her rustling fan As she replied: "I heard in my long dream The mellow pipe, far blown, of jocund Pan Invisible by wood and valley stream. He is not dead, the god of dell and grove, But with him, joyous still, the nymphs and satyrs rove ! ' GREENWOOD GREETINGS. 101 The poplar trees Their odorous buds all quivering in the breeze, Sighed "Heavy was our sleep and dark with gloom The dreaded vision of the night. Of yore The fated poplar grew unto its doom And powerless fell. Shaped from its shuddering wood The Cross was fashioned. Now and evermore That woe returns. The stain of holy blood Our slumber haunts alway, And every waking leaf still trembles with dismay." The willow's plume Swept the warm sod with downy tufts of bloom. " O willow ! thou dost ever earthward gaze And sighs are all thy language." And the tree Whispered "I feel again the flowery days Of a new year, but spring the fair, the free, Cannot bring back the beautiful to me. There is sound of tear-drops in the rain, Of mourning in the air. The lost come not again." , ' 102 LYXICS. Ah ! then the cedars bent Their glossy crowns and spake with deep content : " We have not slept nor dreamed the livelong night ! In our dark mantles wrapped we watched for lii>'ht. O We are the faithful. In our spicy boughs The breath of Lebanon forever flows. Summer or winter, life or death may be, Hope gathers garlands green from off the cedar tree 1 " O kindred of the wood, Lift up your heads ! for now the sunrise beams Scatter the mist of darkness and of dreams : The world is made anew and it is good ! A thousand voices herald summer's day, Let us drink deep from life's fresh fountains while we may. THE FIRST ROBIN. WELCOME again, from the land of the summer, Bird in the maple with jubilant song ! Nodding and singing thy rapturous greeting, Where hast thou stayed from our garden so long ? Often the little ones looked from the window, When the soft snowflakes fell fleecy and dumb, Saying, "See, mother! the white bees are swarming ; When will they go and the red robins come ? ' : Rocked on the bough of the silver-leafed maple, Hast thou one sigh for the orange and palm ? Could the magnolia's sweet-scented blossoms O Waft o'er thy sleep a more exquisite balm ? Bird of the North ! thou hast winged thy way homeward, Led by a love that was constant and strong, On the same bou^h that in other davs rocked V thee, Build a new nest, but, oh ! sing the old song 103 104 LYRICS. Herald art thou of the pageant approaching, The floral procession of Summer our queen ! Let the winds barken, and hasten the sunbeams To spread for her chariot a carpet of green. Bid the trees hang out their banners of welcome, Red and white banners of beautiful bloom ; Sing, happy bird, till thy comrades advancing Shall rout the last spectre of winter and gloom. VIOLETS. I KNOW a spot where woods are green, And all the dim, delicious June A brook flows fast the boughs between And trills an eager, joyous tune. In clear unbroken melody The brook sings and the birds reply : " The violets the violets ! " Upon the water's velvet edge The purple blossoms breathe delight, Close nestled to the grassy sedge As sweet as dawn, as dark as nis;ht. ' O O brook and branches, far away, My heart keeps time with you to-day ! " The violets the violets ! " I sometimes dream that when at last My life is done with fading things, Again will blossom forth the past To which my memory fondest clings. That some fair star has kept for me, Fresh blooming still by brook and tree, " The violets the violets ! " 105 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY. IN elder days, beside the tawny Nile Where royally embalmed the Pharaohs slept, Year after year with pomp of flags and flowers A beautiful and sacred feast was kept. Feast of the valley : when the living bore Tribute of fruits and incense to the dead, Marching in gay procession, richly robed, By the proud voice of drum and trumpet led. And nothing doubted they that souls beloved, Sailing the blue skies in Osiris' car, Perceived in slumberous calm the fragrant <nfts, O O And heard the music, as in dreams, afar. Thus in the garb of triumph we would keep Memorial Day, the New World's feast of flowers ; What shadow can the silent valley hold, Since glorified by such a faith as ours ! 106 THE FEAST OF THE VALLEY. 107 With banners beautiful and sonms that tell O The pride and promise of sweet Freedom's home, Where sleep the sons who loved her unto death, With garlands and with trophies we will come. Fair was the grave beneath the Orient palms, While Heaven was dumb and yet unsealed the tomb, For us the heavy stone is rolled away, The valley shows a light beyond the gloom. And from their white encampments on the hills Beyond our vision, the beloved reply " Here Freedom smiles in a diviner air, And, oh, 'tis sweet for native land to die ! " PEARLS OF PRICE. LIFE, I fain would ask of thee Gifts that shall abide with me ! When the tinsel and the dross Fall away in utter loss When my spirit trembling stands Just within the border lands, All that I have called my own Fading in that light unknown, Let me not with desolate heart See familiar joys depart. Thou art rich, O Life, and I For thy choicest guerdon sigh. Give me things that cannot die! Now while days are long and sweet In midsummer, while my feet Falter not amid the bloom, And no warning sisms of doom CJ d? In the earth or sky foretell Swift departure, long farewell, Let me turn with strength divine From this bright, bewildering wine, 108 PEARLS OF PRICE. 100 Life's illusion, and perceive What at nightfall I must leave. Though it be through dearth and dole I would follow to the goal Treasure deathless as the soul. Wide and loving brotherhood With the gifted and the good, Fellowship and joy intense In glad nature's opulence; Heart of calm and steadfast cheer, Friendship deepening year by year, Love that does not fear to wait For its answer at Heaven's gate, Faith, a beacon full in sight, Cloud by day and flame by night, These are riches, treasure, power, Which outlive the fatal hour ; Buds of time which Heaven will flower. Surely down the sunset road Comes the messenger of God, Withering in his glance of fire Every fleeting, vain desire. At his touch will melt away Fairest idols made of clay, 110 LYRICS. * And in hopeless dust fall down Robe and wreath and rosy crown. Life, I will not let thee go Till thy utmost boon I know ! Let my soul's one triumph be, Ere we part, to win from thee Jewels for eternity ! THE SIGNAL. FEOM yonder dormer window For many a year has shone A lamp whose nightly message Was borne to me alone ; For there a saintly lady Watched for my answering light, And to my little ones and me Wafted her sweet " Good-night." How often when the evening ^j Shut down on days of care, When heart and brain were heavy With burdens hard to bear, That beam of tranquil brightness Her holier calm expressed, And to my troubled spirit spoke Of patience and of rest. To-night I sit in sadness To sing my cradle hymn, The window is all darkened, The house is bleak and dim ; 111 112 LYRICS. Across the fields of moonlight No glittering ray is shed, The lamp is out, the chamber dark, The saintly lady dead. But just above the gable With splendid beam afar, And with unwonted beauty Hangs low the evening star ! Is that to be my signal As years again go by ? Am I to lift my eyes and read Love's language in the sky ? I take the happy omen, The lovelio-ht from afar; ^ ' The watcher is exalted, The lamp is now a star! Still shall I read the message In golden letters clear Still to my little ones and me The signal is " good cheer ! r A DREAMLAND CITY. SOMETIMES the guarded gates Of the unseen on outward hinges roll, O 7 And in deep dreams of night the troubled soul In bright, brief vision sees the glory of its goal. * Some angel, watchful, kind, Stoops for the moment from his kindred band, Reaches, through veil of sleep, a pitying hand, And leads the Dreamer forth into a fairer land. Such boon to me was given, Thus to my sorrow came a sweet release ; Sleep's magic touches gave to pain surcease; And forth my spirit passed into transcendent peace. A city beautiful Shone on my vision. Palaces of white And gleaming marble, in a noonday light Glittered along wide streets with pearly pave- ments bright. 113 114 LYRICS. Amaranth and asphodel Above each pillared door their blossoms hung ; From every mansion mystic music rung, For Poesie was here the only voice and tongue. High in the city's midst Arose a Temple, as the sunset bright; Of flame-like splendor, dazzling to the sight, Arch, column, altar glowed with an interior light. " This is the shrine of song," A voice beside me uttered. " This her home, Her chosen dwelling. Hither none may come But her beloved, her own. Fame's worshippers are dumb " Forth from her temple flows Perpetual inspiration. Glorious themes Break on the vision in ecstatic srleams. \^ Embodied here the bard beholds his rarest dreams. " Hither the minstrels throng O The masters wearing laurels centuries old, A DREAMLAND CITY. 115 Bards who the harp-strings smote with fingers bold, And they whose softer lays with faltering lips were told. "Nor they alone whose brows On earth the victor's sparkling wreath have worn, These, too whom Fate of every bliss hath shorn, Save of the matchless boon that they were singers born." Even as he spoke there rolled From out that inner shrine a tide of song. Each outer voice the anthem bore along ; The angel at my side responded full and strong. " This is, indeed, my home ! ' I cried. " Here every grief I may forget ; Here even for me are peace and rapture met." My guide, in tender voice replied, " Not yet." The dream was at an end. Yet in its light I walked through many days, Seeing no darkness in them, for my gaze Illumined once, still burned with the celestial rays. 116 LYRICS. Now singing as I go, Little I heed although the path is long ; Light from above hath made my spirit strong, It is enough to be the humblest child of Song. And I will be content To love her for herself ; with homage sweet To sing unheard, unanswered at her feet, Till in some other life I make my song complete. RECOMPENSE. GRIEVE not, beloved, that in such narrow space Your hopes must still their sparkling plumage hide, Brooding unseen : while others sing and soar, That you alone go in and out no more. Write on the threshold of this prison place Eternity is wide! Sigli not that years unanswering pass away, And life seems all a mockery and a wrong : The morning and the evening swiftly blend ; Soon as the sorrow and the silence end, A thousand years shall be as yesterday Eternity is long! SONG PHANTOMS. THEY are flitting all about us, Fairy forms and faces fair, Glancing wings of white and silver, Spirits not of earth nor air. Phantoms of the songs unsung, Of unuttered minstrelsy, In the noon and in the night Still they call to thee and me, "Follow! follow! " And the song thine own shall be ! " In the rosy morning sunlight Now behold ! thy float and gleam, Yet shalt thou perceive them nearer In the twilight's dusk and dream. Softer than all spoken words Then their elfin voices ring, Sweeter than all chanted hymns As they vanish, still they sing "Follow! follow! Catch the song upon the wing !'' 118 SONG PHANTOMS. 119 Not a brooklet down the valley All unhaunted rambles on, With its limpid wave are blended Sacred drops from Helicon. And the mountains as they burn In the sunset's fiery gold, Shine with the mysterious light That Parnassus wore of old. "Follow! follow! And the Muses' shrine behold." Happy nymph and hapless Echo Haunt the wood with ceaseless tone, Other flowers than famed Narcissus Veil a beauty not their own. Sighing from the forest bough Smiling o'er the rainbow bar, Beckoning from the white sea-foam Whispering from the vesper star " Follow ! follow ! Bring the spoils of song from far ! '" Oft o'ercome by their enchantment We arise and hasten on, Follow far through vale and highland Till the witching sprite is won. Ah ! at touch of mortal hand 120 LYRICS. See the rainbow plumage fade ! That we sought with rapture sweet Fails us when our quest is stayed. ' Far we follow, And we only reach the shade. Yet with tireless, glad devotion We go on with eager feet, For the path is ever starward, And the wayside bloom is sweet. Though we gain but broken not Of the hidden minstrelsy, Yet we breathe diviner air, Heavenly heights beyond we see. We will follow ! Ours at last the song shall be ! UP THE RIVER. THE barge at sunset left the shore With clanging band and banner flying, Far out at sea we gazed once more, The dim, blue line of sky descrying; Then as we floated up the bay, We idly watched the sparkling ray Which on the brightening waters lay, A golden sky, a golden river. How eerie-like the summer night Descends to greet the kindred deep ! Her garments shed a magic light As o'er the rippling wave they sweep. The golden hour of sunset past, The clouds of amber fading fast, o / Grown softer, darker, see at last A violet sky, a violet river ! As mists of evening gather dark, Diana shows her silver bow, And now each swift or anchored bark Is mirrored iu the deep below. 121 122 LYRICS. We know not in their ghostly mien Those dim, white sails that skyward lean; Real and unreal they hang between A shadowy sky and shadowy river. The wind is down, the tide runs low, The barge creeps up the current slowly, The banks more steep and craggy grow, Or darken into woodlands lowly; And surely yonder peerless star Shows where the gates of dreamland are ! The pathway brightens near and far In sparkling sky and sparkling river. And now what lights are those that gleam From yonder heights with beckoning ray? Has Norembega's wizard beam Shone forth to mock our homeward wr.y ? O no ! the lights burn true and fair, The " welcome home " awaits us there Play out, gay band, your sweetest air ! Good night to starry sky and river ! HAIL AND FAREWELL, i. BLOOM, rosy hours, from amber dawn unfold- ing To noon's imperial splendor, to twilight's violet gloom, All the lost sweetness of forgotten summers O Lives once again in your intense perfume. Sing, joyous birds ! to dreaming sky and river, Unto the waiting winds a soul melodious give ; Till every heart and voice awakes inspired to echo Your highest note of rapture "how sweet it is to live ! ' n. Fade, summer day! unbind thy glowing gar- land, Look from the gate of sunset and smile on earth once more ; 123 124 LYRICS. Fade and farewell ; so tranquil be thy slumber, The angel stars shall hasten forth thy beauty to adore. Ebb, rapid tide ! the dying day reflecting, Flow fast, ye golden billows, your ocean heaven is nio;h, O * Melt cloud and wave, in grander deeps dis- solving, And tell to the departing soul " how blest it is to die ! " A SEASIDE PICTURE. A BROAD, bright bay whose tossing waves So sparkle in the sunlight's glare, They seem the stolen gems to wear Of all the nymphs in ocean's caves ; The foreground rich in woodland shore Of odorous cedar, moss grown pine, With boughs of lighter green that twine o o o And bower the velvet pathways o'er. The distance an enchanting range Of island mountains, height on height, Where mists of morn and glooms of niojht O O Have wrought a coloring rich and strange, A vanishing and mystic hue Of blended green and violet dyes, And over all such sapphire skies As Titian's pencil never knew. Such is the picture I behold, And still in every changing light 125 126 LTEICS. Some hidden beauty steals in sight,- A cloud, a shade, a glint of gold. You ask upon what gallery's wall Is this midsummer radiance hung? Its name was never said nor suns; o * A cottage window frames it all ! ISIS. Low at her feet I watch and dream, She will not lift her veil ; I dimly see a brow sublime And features grand and pale, And feel a mighty heart replies To all my rapture, or my sighs. She is so near her breathing falls On my attentive ear, She is so far the twilight stars O Shine through her mantle clear ; As silent as the grave may be, And yet the soul of melody! The lotus trembling on her brow Exhales divine perfume, The mystic splendor of her smile Pervades my narrow gloom. The dearth of solitary hours She answers with a thousand flowers. 127 128 LYKICS. Oppressed with haunting, hindering cares My heart rebels at fate. She stoops to me, and lo ! I share Her own imperial state. I glide without my prison bars And walk with her the path of stars ! Forever sorrowful in death, Forever glad in birth, Her face the glory of the skies, Her steps the bloom of earth As Nature's self, tho fallen, the free, O Isis, I interpret thee ! LOTUS-EATING. THESE perfect days were never meant For toil of hand or brain, But for such measureless content As heeds no loss nor gain ; Close held to Nature's flowery breast In deep midsummer rest. Within this woodland shade I feel The life of wind and tree ; Soft odors, tremulous boughs reveal Untutored ecstasy ; The wild bird's drowsy warble seems My own voice heard in dreams ! And yonder azure mountain brow Against the opal sky, The river's cool, melodious flow, The pine-tree's pensive sigh, Each utters forth mv inmost mood / Of blissful solitude. 129 130 LYRICS. That ever daring deeds were done, Or fiery flags unfurled, Is like a tale of glory won In some primeval world, Where under skies of angry hue Not yet the lotus grew ! O world, to-day in vain you hold The glittering branch of palm ; The lotus hath a flower of gold, A fruit of heavenly balm, And underneath the greenwood tree Are flower and fruit for me. A SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE. FROM the gray rocks that walled the beach We watched the sinking sun, Till as the last cloud curtain rolled Across his drooping crown of gold, We said " The day is done." The gateway of the West was closed, The King was seen no more; And in the pensive even-glow We strayed with tranquil step and slow Along the grassy shore. But as we gazed, the Eastern sky Was lighted up anew : Long bars of gleaming, crystal green Across the heavens a dazzling sheen Of sudden splendor threw. The waves along the wide-stretched bay Awoke as if from sleep, 131 132 L TRIGS. And trembling in a strange delight, Repelled the coming gloom of night And drank the radiance deep.* Then purple banners richly wrought With many a golden sign, Waved glorious o'er the heavenly plain, And all the billows shone a^ain O With blazonry divine. And ever as a brighter hue Illumed the sky and flood, The mountains on the further shore, A darker, dreamier aspect wore, And with us watching stood. Still flushed the deepening tints, and now A lurid lustre came, And as with sacrificial fire The orient burned with splendors dire, The sea with tossing flame ! And once again a wondrous change For over all the skies Swift fading as the night came down, Were leagues of roses, brightly blown, Of pure, celestial dyes ! SUNSET AT SEAL POINT COTTAGE. 133 Fast as they bloomed in heaven they she Their petals on the sea ! Till in a rosy wave of light They vanished from our raptured sight, A twilight mystery. Homeward beneath the whispering trees We walked and spoke no word ; For we had seen with living eyes, On sunset sea and sunset skies, The glory of the Lord. BLACK-CAP MOUNTAIN. BY winding paths, through woods of pine Deep fringed with fragrant fern and vine, Old mosses gray beneath our feet, Wild, forest odors strong and sweet, Brief spaces where a golden rain Of sunshine sifts, and here again Intenser glooms of cliff and tree Whence some lone bird calls plaintively, Thus on we move, as in a dream, Nor know which pleasure is supreme, Till on the mountain's opening height All senses lose themselves in sight ! Fair, fair the picture we behold ! A long, dim range of mountains rolled 134 ^LACK-CAP MOUNTAIN 135 Against the soft October sky, Seem wrapped in contemplation hign . Far-reaching forests stretch below, Resplendent with autumnal glow Of fiery colors, and amid These leagues of shade, bright waters hid, Clear, lucid lakes that sparkling rest Like pearls on Nature's drowsy ' >reast. We almost hear the ripples break On Chimo's lily-spangled lake, While far off, like a cloud at rest, We know Katahdin's kingly crest. The giant shadows bending low With soft, slow footfall come and go, Their cool, gray garments trailing wide Along each billowy mountain side. No hint of dust or toil to mar The living picture shows so far ; 136 LYRICS. Though long we gaze, the vision grows In perfect beauty and repose. O when from some sublimer height These earthly scenes are full in sight, May all our past transfigured lie So far, so fair, in memory's eye, The beauty and the bliss alone Still visible, and still our own. RIVERSIDE. IN the house which is my own, Though no living eye can read The invisible title deed Which makes it mine alone, In the room where my heart and I In still communion sit, Though as in and out we flit None heed us passing by, I look from the windows three, And pictures manifold Of the new and of the old With tireless gaze I see. The river, near and deep, With such endless music flows That into my thought it grows, And I hear it in my sleep. The trees that o'er it bend, Though rugged, old, and gray, 137 138 LYRICS. I have talked with day by day, With each as with a friend. And yonder far-off range Of hills have said to me In each change of destiny, " Behold ! we never change." I have lifted up mine eyes And drank their deep repose ; I have shared the calm which flows Both from the earth and skies. From this window I have seen Sunsets of pomp untold, Islands of rose uprolled From lakes of luminous sheen. And after the sunset, far In the blue halls of the sky I have seen the young moon lie In her cradle rocked by a star. Again and oft again From yonder window wide, I have seen her like a bride Walk heaven's resplendent plain- RIVERSIDE. 139 Then the river in its dream Was changed to a bridge of light, And plume and banner white Passed over its brilliant beam. All this may strangers see ; Yet other sights remain, Which shall be sought in vain, For they only come to me. The Indian's evening blaze Beneath yon broad armed pine, For me alone shall shine Out of remembered days. The true friend's signal light From the home across the way. Shall burn to life's last day, Steadfast and strong and bright. And if I look no more At these pictures far and near, Within are scenes as dear, And I view them o'er and o'er. For my shadow-sister stands In the door, and her sweet, dead eyes 140 LYRICS. Are filled with a sad surprise As she touches me with her hands. " Here I was wont to come," She sighs ; " in the nights so still I have wandered here at will : Oh, is not this thy home ? " And phantom children glide Across the fireside glow; Their pale lips murmur low, "Here we were born, and died." Nearer the voices come, The faces grow more fair ; The loved and lost are there, For to them it is my home. O phantoms pass not by ! O river and moaning trees, My answer is on the breeze, In the gloaming " Here am I ! " None knows as I have known The house by the river side, Nor years nor space divide The spirit from its own. TO BEETHOVEN. I HEAR the voice of thy great, pensive soul, In the deep shadow of this summer night, While far sea waves accordant anthems roll From their unfathomed fountains of delight. I hear thy voice and all my heart is still ; Hushed in the presence of thy gift divine, I dream that notes from God's eternal hill, From harps that in His awful presence shine, Have floated from on hio-h O To sing with Night her vesper hymn of glory, But while I listen, lo ! it passes by And leaves me musing o'er thy mournful story. Thou wast a High Priest of the human heart ! Holy of Holies was unveiled to thee, Which thou didst enter in and reverently Make all its mysteries of thy theme a part. All longings for the infinite good unknown, And tears for broken idols left behind, All hopes for buds of beauty yet unblown, And deeper yearnings still in shadow shrined, 141 142 LYRICS. All the unspoken pain Or gladness that within the spirit slumbers, All that the Poet strives to reach in vain, 'T was thine to utter forth in perfect numbers. Master of all the spirit's richest deeps ! Of human nature's grandest, holiest part, Blessed wast thou in uttering what the heart From all the world in sacred stillness keeps! O blessed is the soul where Genius lives ! All suffering is a veiled joy to him ; To his rich life all earthly anguish gives A midnight glory, beautiful and dim. Out from that midnight calm O Thy gifted spirit's voice serenely flowing, Breathes o'er the world's heart like a golden psalm, Sweeter and sadder still forever growing. FROM ROME. HERE lies a spray of maiden-hair, Tossed over ocean's wintry foam, A fairy fern, so light, so fair, It grew, for me, in Rome ! Day after day with sinking heart I saw my summer treasures go, The last bright leaves in flame depart, The dead earth draped in snow. While all unseen, unknow r n to me, Italia's airs of balmy blue This leaflet ripened tenderly, And hid from heedless view. No step but thine, Beloved, near The fated loveliness might stray, No eyes to me less true and dear, Perceive the emerald spray. And yesterday, while fierce and fast Midwinter raged along the land, 143 144 LYRICS. Safe borne across the waves, at last It lay within my hand. O fairy token ! I can see The ruin old and rich in fame, Where late my friend remembered me, And softly spoke my name. The sculptured fountain's snowy fall, The rustle of the olive leaves, The stained and broken marble, all My quickened sight perceives. And more, far more, O friend of mine, This dear Italian floweret brings, It is a promise and a sign Even of immortal things. Thus all unseen, while earthly skies Grow dark, and earthly summers flee, In Heaven's own clime some glad surprise Unfolds for thee and me. OBERAMMERGAU. THE hamlet is in shadow, yet the light Clings to the cross on yonder summit hoary, And wide along the hillside seems to fall A benediction and a vesper glory. Surely some radiant Presence hovering there, With shining arms uplifted, calls to prayer ! And unseen choristers glide to and fro, Under the lindens, when the sun is low. Flame, mountain cross, in the departing day ! Glow in the sunrise with a rosy splendor ! An altar-fire to which the hills bow down, And the hushed valleys meek devotion render. The world grows cold with unbelief, but here The Christ of Calvary is ever near, And beautiful with a perpetual youth Blooms simple Faith around immortal Truth. 145 WHAT CHEER? THE daylight is dying ; how weary and wan It sinks to its sleep on the sea's purple breast ! As its last robe of beauty is folded away, One funeral star rises out of the west. What cheer, prophet star, that with sweet, human eye Beamest down on this sad world so pityingly ? Thou dost read all the mysteries of silence and night, And each shadow is changed in thy magical light. O hear ! Did an angel answer, or was it the star That wafted a voice through the silence afar? " Good cheer, doubting spirit ! the red rose of dawn On the breast of the desolate midnight is born ; Good cheer ! " To the muffled music of wind and of rrJn The dreary November is passing away. 140 WHAT CHEEK? 147 There is gloom on the forest, the hill, and the plain, And wild ocean foams like a lion at bay. Weary year, dying year, let it haste to the tomb, All its beauty is vanished, its strength and its bloom : Who would keep the pale spectre a guest at his hearth ? But what cheer for the heart as it fades from the earth ? O hear ! With its utterance low conies that voice from on high, Giving back to my sighing its blessed reply " Good cheer ! a new life, a new year shall arise And fill with its glory the earth and the skies ! Good cheer ! r Answer once more, O thou beautiful star ! Chase the last doubt from my spirit away, I too, like the year, must be gathered to dust, My youth in its brightness shall fade like the day. Must my beautiful visions lie down with me ? Must my hopes in the grave bear me company? And all that I yearned for of glory and bloom, Go out, like a lamp, in the chill of the tomb ? 148 LYRICS. O hear ! Whether angel answered, or only a star, Of joy and of promise the tidings are ! " For thy feet there are paths which no mortal hath trod, For thy hope there is room in the gardens of God ! Good cheer ! " A VIGIL. ALL-SOULS' DAY ! Where have I heard or read An old-time legend, sad and sweet, That to-night return the remembered dead And walk among us with shadowy feet? The watcher heedeth no sight nor sound, But till dawn is breaking they throng around. Beloved ! thou hast been gone from me A year and a day. I will watch to-night. My door shall be left ajar for thee ; I will brighten my fire and trim my light, And musing softly on other days, Vigil I '11 keep by the midnight blaze. Are there untold joys in those realms above, With whose meaning mortals may vainly cope ? Blooms there a sweeter rose than love? Sings there a happier bird than hope? Was the waking all that thy dream foretold Of palm and palace and gates of gold ? 149 150 LYRICS. Thou didst love me truly, I doubt it not. To part was bitter though silent pain ; In that far-off realm am I yet forgot? Is mourning empty and memory vain ? Hark ! was that a whisper, so soft, so near ? It is but the sighing wind I hear. How fair to me was thy fading face, Touched with a tender and tranquil glow Heaven had lent thee its promised grace A coming rapture was on thy brow. Thy smile ah ! what shines so within the door ? Only the moonlight just touching the floor. We were happy, love, in those summer days, The days of sunshine so bright, so long, Pleasant our walks by the flowery ways, Sweet the communing by word and song. Listen ! O melody come once again ! All silent. I must have been dreaming, then. I hear the wash of the troubled tide As it breaks on the cold, unheeding shore, The elm trees grieve by the river side, And the murmuring pines reply "no more." Low in the east lianas the star of dawn. O Has the angel visitant corne and gone? A VIGIL. 151 Surely one moment she stooped to see The light on my hearth, and her glance was kind. Such presence veiled from our sight must be; The dead are not faithless, though we are blind. In the light of the same undying love We watch below, and they watch above. INDIAN SUMMER. WHEN the hunter's moon is waning, And hangs like a crimson bow, And the frosty fields of morning Are white with a phantom snow ; Who then is the beautiful spirit, That wanders, smiles, and grieves Along the desolate hill-sides, And over the drifted leaves ? She has strayed from the far-off dwelling Of forgotten Indian braves, And stolen wistfully earthward Over the path of graves ; She has left the cloudy gateway Of the hunting-grounds ajar, To follow the trail of the summer Toward the morning star. There 's a rustle of soft, slow footsteps, The toss of a purple plume, And the glimmer of golden arrows Athwart the hazy gloom. 152 INDIAN SUMMER. 153 'Tis the smoke of the happy wigwams That reddens our wintry sky, The scent of unfading forests That is dreamily floating by. O shadow sister of summer! Astray from the world of dreams, Thou wraith of the bloom departed, Thou echo of springtide streams, Thou moonlight and starlight vision Of a day that will come no more, Would that our love might win thee To dwell on this stormy shore ! But the roaming Indian goddess Stays not for our tender sighs ; She has heard the call of her hunters Beyond the sunset skies ! By her beaming arrows stricken The last leaves fluttering fall, With a sigh and a smile she has vanished, And darkness is over all. BANGOR CENTENNIAL HYMN. 1760-1869. GOD of our days ! Thy guiding power Sustained the lonely pioneer Who first, amid the forest shades, His evening camp-fire kindled here. To thee a welcome sacrifice, Its smoke ascended to the skies. God of the years ! As summers fled, Within the wild, new homes were reared, New gardens bloomed, new altars flamed, And songs of praise the Sabbaths cheered, Until the fair, young city stood Gem of the eastern solitude. God of the centuries ! To-day A hundred years their tale have told, And lingering in their solemn shade We listen to the days of old. To us how vast the centuries flight, ^7 ' To Thee as watches in the night. 154 BANGOR CENTENNIAL HYMN. 155 God of eternity ! Thy hand To nobler hills has beckoned on The fathers, who by many toils For us this pleasant dwelling won. With them hereafter may we raise Celestial cities to Thy praise ! WINTER OUR GUEST. HE is come, the guest unbidden, Guest unwelcome, sure to tarry. While we lingered in the doorway, Saying farewells fond and tender To the dark-browed Indian summer, Sunburned, beautiful enchantress, While we watched her slow departure With regretful, pensive feeling, Lo ! a chariot rolling swiftly Brought a traveller to our door ! Stern old Winter ! See he enters As if sure of right unquestioned, Heeding not our gloomy faces, Our half-uttered salutations ; On the threshold waits a moment, Doffs and shakes his cloak of ermino, And the air is filled with downy Flakes that fall in feathery flight. Once within, with steady footsteps To the very shrine and altar 156 WINTER OUR GUEST. 157 Of our household he advances. Underneath his shaggy forehead, Grim and stern with many a wrinkle, Gleam his eyes so cold and steely. Closer dins: the little children O To our side, and look with timid Glances on the strange intruder, Shrinking from his icy hand. Sometimes when the windows darken With the clouds of snow descending, When the wind escaped from prison, Holds a revel with the snow-wraith, Then the frown of some old viking Darkens on his rugged features. And as nearer, wilder, louder Rolls the battle wave of tempest, Fierce and fiercer grows his visage, And in undertones he mutters Of the storms of all the ages, As he holds unseen communion With the spirits of the air. But he is not always sullen, Brooding over thoughts revengeful ; When the early sunlight glitters On the snow-fields, heavy laden 158 LYKICS. With a magic, midnight harvest When the trees which bare and ghastly Bent before the evening tempest, In the morning stand transfigured Into lovely flowering almonds, Every branch a mass of blossom White as down and pure as crystal, Then the aged brow is softened, And the voice prophetic utte:'3 Promise of a fruitful burden To the glistening fields and boughs. And a<xain when bells are chiming o o In the moonlight and the starlight Of the saintly Christmas even, When the lights in every window Show sweet faces bright with pleasure, - All the brightness is reflected In his eves, and fearless finders / O Twine his hoary locks with holly. Then beneath the lighted fir-tree, Brilliant with a fairy fruitage, Sits he like a king, dispensing Royal gifts with royal smiles. Long he tarries, but he listens When the days are growing longer, WINTER OUR GUEST. 159 Listens till he hears the laughter, Rippling in the sunny distance, Of the winsome April maiden. As we spring up in our gladness Echoing back her sonsj of welcome, O O * He will gaze into our faces As if fain awhile to linger. <j But as nearer comes the dancing, Mirthful, musical young goddess, With the scent of early violets Shed from her sun-lighted tresses, He will totter to the threshold, Looking, lingering, O so wistful ! Till with late, repentant kindness, As he sadly is departing, We will touch his cold, wan fingers, Saying softly " Friend, farewell ! " IMMORTELLES. HERE bloom no flowers. The river glides O Beneath the shade of sombre pines, The bank is rich with purpling vines That lean to watch the changing tides. But garden beds and walks for me Have lost their olden witchery, Since, trusting they would spring again Beneath the sunshine and the rain, I planted deep my Immortelles. And that was long ago. They sleep Unmindful of caressing dews, Of all the kindred blossom hues That round their place of slumber creep. The west-wind sighs amid the leaves, The wild-bird answering, sweetly grieves, They hear nor heed ; alike unstirred By tenderest voice of wind or bird, They sleep, my spotless Immortelles. At times when down the darkened sky Rushes the storm on angry wing, 160 IMMORTELLES. 161 When all the leaves are shuddering And the torn blossoms sob and sigh, I think of them, in earth's fond breast Held in such still and perfect rest, And I am comforted to know O'er them no blighting wind can blow, No ruin reach my Immortelles ! The days are long, but calm and strong Will Love's own presence on them wait. And fear no league with Death nor Fate. Sure is the joy though tarrying long. Each year new promise seems to bring, New signals of eternal spring. Perhaps ere Summer fades my eyes Will see my flowers of Paradise Will look upon my Immortelles. The hour will come ; a twilight gloom, With flowers upon the pillow laid By hands that tremble, half-afraid Of the strange stillness in my room. O friends, fear not ! My eyes will be No longer hoi den. I shall see In all their passion of perfume, In all their brilliancy of bloom, My own, my deathless Immortelles. CONSOLATION. NATURE is not pitiless ! When upon some sudden woe Mornings glitter, sunsets glow As in glad unconsciousness, When upon our dead delight Sweet winds play and roses bloom, And we seem to have no room For our sorrow, and no right Then, ah ! then could we but know From what wealth of bliss eternal Nature's joyance, fresh and vernal, Overflows upon our woe, From what opulence of light She shines down upon our grief, Till in glimpses comes relief As the star-beams to the night, From all doubting we should cease, Knowing that our faltering glance c^ ^ 162 CONSOLATION. 163 Faints and falls in the expanse Of a universe of peace. Mother Nature, fair and grand, Mocks us not, but round us throwing Her warm arms, with love o'erflowing Bids us wait and understand. Then we see that air and sky Throb with beauteous, boundless life, Winds and woods and waves are rife With unfailing melody. Every discord of to-day, Ocean's moan or tempest's jar, Ere it can the chorus mar, Drowned in music dies away. And we dimly feel and know Something deep within keeps time To the wonderful glad rhyme Of the ages as they flow. Something mightier than pain, Heaven's own echo in the heart, Bids us rise and take our part In the song of life again. 164 LYRICS. Therefore Nature, loving Sage, Smiles the brighter when we weep, Knowing that we can but keep Our eternal heritage. SONNETS. 165 SONNETS. ORIENT TO OCCIDENT. MINE is the elder right, the ancient throne, The purple of the centuries is mine ! The birthplace of the race, its earliest shrine Was to my ever blooming gardens known. Upon my dewy sunrise slopes has grown The tree of Knowledge, of whose fruit divine Have feasted bard and sage, a noble line, The fountains of all history are my own. My fields are white with harvests of brave deeds And rich with blood of heroes, and the air Is sweet with songs of victory heard afar ; Mine are the elder gods, the cradle creeds Of the wild north, the fervent south, and fair On my horizon rose the Bethlehem Star. 167 OCCIDENT TO ORIENT. WEAK thy proud honors still, imperial East, Thou warrior of the ages ! but for me A new day dawns, a fairer history Than ever graced the scroll of seer or priest ; For Liberty from ancient thrall released Calls to the nations over land and sea, To the oppressed who should be strong and free, To sit with her at a perpetual feast. My poets sing no more of battling foes, But in this true Valhalla of the West Shall god-like wisdom, arts divine, increase ; And here the star that on Judea rose, Shall light the long-sought gardens of the Blest, The home of nations and the throne of Peace. 168 THE SEVEN DAYS. I. DAY OF THE MOON. DIANA, sister of the sun, thy ray Governs these opening hours. The world is wide; We know not what new evil may betide This six days' journey ; by what unknown way We come at last unto the royal day Of prophecy and promise. O preside, Propitious, and our doubting footsteps guide Onward and sunward. Long in shadows gray We have but slumbered ; hidden from our view Knowledge and wisdom in unfruitful night. But if upon the dawn's unfolding blue Thy hand to-day our destiny must write, Once more our outer, inner life renew With Heaven's first utterance, "Let there be light." 169 170 SONNETS. II. DAY OF THE WAR-GOD. FEAR not, O soul, to-day ! the kingly Mars Leads on the hours, a brave and warlike train, Fire in his glance and splendor in his reign, From the first glitter through the sunrise bars Till his red banner flames amono- the stars. C-> Thou, too, go forth, and fully armed maintain Duty and right : the hero is not slain, Though pierced and wounded in a hundred wars. For daring deeds are deathless. He alone Is victor, who stays not for any doom Foreshadowed ; utters neither sigh nor moan, Death-stricken, but right onward, his fair plume Scorched in the battle-flame, through smoke 7 C3 and gloom Strikes for the right, nor counts his life his own. III. DAY OF ODIN. The mighty Odin rides abroad, and earth Trembles and echoes back his ghostly sigh, More deep than thought, more sad than memory. The very birds sing low in timid mirth, THE SEVEN DAYS. 171 For in the forest sudden gusts have birth, And harsh against the pale appealing sky Ascends his ravens' melancholy cry. Peace be with Odin ! Of his ancient worth Many and grand the tales we will repeat, For sacred memories to these hours belong. O But yesterday with reckless speed our feet Dared the bold height. With spirit no less strong To-day step softly. After battle's heat Warriors and wars are only themes for song. IV. DAY OF THOR. White-robed, white-crowned, and borne by steeds snow-white, The Thunderer rolls along the echoing skies. No hour is this to dream of past emprise, Or with old runes the memory to delight. The mountain tops with prophet beams are bright, The eagle soars aloft with jubilant cries Thou, too, unto the hills lift up thine eyes, To some new throne these sacred signs invite. Learn thy own strength ; and if some secret sense Of power untried pervades thy low estate, 172 SONNETS. Bend thy soul's purest, best intelligence To seek the mastery of time and fate. Courage and deathless hope and toil intense Are the crown-jewels of the truly great. V. DAY OF LOVE AND PLEASURE. In the world garden, walled with living green, The foam-born goddess of delight to-day Plucks glorious blossoms for her own array. Poppies and myrtle in her wreath are seen, And roses, bending o'er her brow serene, Blush to perceive she is more fair than they. Sweet grasses at her feet their odors lay, And doves, low warbling, hover o'er their queen. In this brief life shall ever toil and care Hold fast our wishes? Earth's bewildering bowers, Her streams melodious and her woodlands fair, Are palaces for gods. The world is ours ! Beauty and love our birthright, we will share The sunshine and the singing and the flowers. THE SEVEN DAYS. 173 VI. DAT OF SATTJKN. Though bright with jewels, and with garlands dressed, The bloom decays, the world is growing old. Lost are the days when peaceful Saturn told The arts to men, and cheered their toil or rest With eloquence divine. The Olympian guest Took with him in his flight the age of gold. Westward through myriad centuries has rolled The ceaseless pilgrimage, the hopeless quest For the true Fatherland. Through weary years What if some rainbow glory spans the gloom, Some strong, sweet utterance the wayside cheers, Or gladness opens like a rose in bloom? Step after step the fatal moment nears, Earth for new graves is ever making room. VII. DAY OF THE SUN. Thou glorious Sun ! illumining the blue Highway of Heaven ! to thy triumphant rays The earth her shadow yields, the hill-tops blaze, Up lifts the mist, up floats the morning dew. 174 SONNETS. Old things Lre passed away, the world is new ! Labor is changed to rest, and rest to praise ! Past are the weary heights, the stormy days,- The eternal future breaks upon our view. Last eve we lingered, uttering our farewe 1 But lo! One met us in the early light Of this divinest morn. The tale He tells Transfigures life and opens Heaven to sight. Bring altar flowers ! lilies and asphodels ! Sing jubilates ! There is no more night. LONGFELLOW. WHITHER, beloved spirit, art them fled ? Couldst thou not linger with thine own, at least Till the glad singing at thy birthday feast Had died away ? Still fresh upon thy head Tli3 perfume of love's latest wreath is shed. Thy new year's daybreak reddens in the east, The warm air throbs with music not yet ceased Why stand the minstrels hushed around thy bed ? Falls thy own whisper from the fields divine "There is no death !" The an^el Israfil, O Flashing swift splendor on our startled gaze, But crowned and led thee home. No word nor sign We need to know thou art a poet still, And sweeter for thy songs are heaven's high- ways. 175 VICTORIA. THE sovereign lady of dominions grand, Flower of a chivalrous and noble age, Hers is to-day a matchless heritage. The sceptre held within her gentle hand Shines with unsullied beam ; a starry band Of bards and sages write her history's page, While boundless love and loyalty presage Joy to her banners upon sea and land. But we, in this free land across the sea, Find in her fair and gracious womanhood A higher royalty. No more alone Can England claim her ; she has risen to be Queen among women. Simply great and good, In the world's heart Victoria has her throne. 176 TO THE RAINBOW. IRIS, bringing balm for summer's tears, So lightly stepping down thy bridge of rose, I know not why my spirit drinks repose Soon as thy footfall the horizon nears. Spell-bound I watch the crimson shaded piers, As arch by arch the blooming pathway grows, And where the warmest tint of color shows, 1 trace thy trailing garment. Sighs and fears Are vanished ; in a long and ardent gaze Thy steps I follow down the heavenly slope. Iris ! be mine thy message ! Let thy rays Write out how I with destiny may cope. Ah ! spanned with light would be all coming days, Could I but read thy oracle of hope. 177 THE MAGIC FLUTE. A FLUTE upon the water ! and I lean At the broad window in the moonlight clear, O ' That low, wild, rippling melody to hear. A white batteau with dripping oar is seen Skimming the moonbeam path of silver sheen, And now a shadow into shadows drear It vanishes, yet to my longing ear The melody floats back, a sound serene Endowed by night with sweetness not its own. O happy player ! drifting down the tide, Half of thy music's charm thou hast not known ; With me alone its magic shall abide For fairy lips with thine the strain have blown, And love's lost whisper in the echo sighed ! 178 MIDNIGHT. AT midnight I behold, far past her prime, The pallid moon slow rising in the sky, A queen discrowned, her pomp and pride past by, Pacing a joyless palace ; yet sublime In desolation, mindful of the time When reigned full-orbed her loveliness on high, And planets paled before her majesty. Now dumb and dread the hour ; not even a chime Of elfin music. Flower and leaf and bough Dream in the marble moonlight. Cold and bright O The river sleeps, its tide at flood, and slow Soft clouds like phantoms, gliding into sight Linger beneath the stars' funereal glow. The day is dead thou art its spectre, Night ! 179 DAYBREAK. WHEX out of heaven steals the first ray of dawn And wanders, lost, in labyrinths of night, The wakeful robin notes with quickened sight The half-affrio-hted herald of the morn. C-J Softly he trills to cheer the beam forlorn, And others hear the signal, until bright Approach the bolder ranks of orient light, And night is of its shadowy terror shorn. Withdraw, O Hesper ! silver-mantled priest! And quench with haste thy taper's dying ray: For now with sudden hush the birds have ceased, Rich banners float o'er the horizon gray, And past his fire-plumed escort, in the east Rides the anointed King, Imperial Day ! 180 FRIENDSHIP. IT matters not if no more face to face I look on thee, my friend. Though sweet indeed To clasp thy hand in mine, there is no need ; Our perfect friendship knows no time nor place. Heart reaches heart across unmeasured space, Soul touches soul from ruder contact freed ; Ours is one hope, one life-work and one creed, One destiny the flying moments trace. The shadow of thy grief cannot depart Till it is fallen on me : thv new delight W 1 V? Flashes swift radiance over land and sea. Such friendship is an Eden for the heart, In which it arrows to blossom without blight, G ^j 7 Gives itself wholly and is wholly free. 181 THE FLOWER PAINTER. I. SHE learned the dearest haunts in vale and wild Of summer's fairy nurslings. In her eyes The opening buds beheld with glad surprise Such loving recognition, that they smiled Ecstatic welcome. Nature pleased and mild Guided her hand to seek the precious dyes Kept hidden since the loss of Paradise, And with pure sense and spirit undefiled She shared the secret with eacli flower that grew. Beneath her touch the treasures manifold Of fading summers lived in beauty new. The rose with Mowing blush its storv told, o o */ Violet and heart' s-ease breathed in blue and gold, And spotless lilies sparkled with the dew. ii. And then her hand grew weary ; full and deep The cup of life and love, and beauty's ray Crowned her young brow as on her bridal day. Not hers the doom to linger and to weep, Nor feel the winds of stormy anguish sweep. 182 THE FLOWER PAINTER. 183 Within her eyes strange, wistful shadows lay ; The pencil from her light grasp dropped away, And while the flowers slept, she too fell asleep. "But summer days are come; will she return Whose step a thousand blossoms yearn to greet ? r O questioning flowers ! she has gone hence to learn If in that land your own life is complete ; If heavenward borne on wings of odor sweet Ye, too, in hues of deathless beauty burn. EBB AND FLOW. MY river ! Thou art like the poet's soul, Where tides of song perpetual ebb and flow. Like thine the current of his life runs low At times, his visions suffer loss and dole, And sunken griefs break through the waters shoal. Then while despair is tossing to and fro His stranded hope, a breath begins to blow From the great sea ! With rising swell and roll The waves of inspiration lift and float His being into broad and full expanse. Now rocks his fancy like an airy boat On wreathed billows ; his impassioned glance Little of cloud or reef or wreck will note, On the high tide of song in blissful trance. 184 HAPPINESS. \ LONG time I looked in every passing face In search of happiness, the signal light Of an interior flame, the blossom-bright Midsummer of the soul, but found no trace Till yesterday in a most lonely place, One on whose heart had fallen woful blight, Said to me " In the heaviness of night I can remember Joy's supremest grace ! ' O Fortunate ! Once to have felt the glow Of full delight ; to bear within the breast d* * Even the ashes of life's perfect bloom. Earth gives no more ; the happiness we know Is veiled when with us, in the vanished guest We first perceive an angel's fleeting plume. 185 SOUNDS FROM HOME. WHY, when sweet sounds are borne upon the air, Doth such a homesick longing, not all pain, A gladness greater than we can sustain, Enthrall the sense, until we seem to share Joys of some higher realm, we know not where? Doth then the spirit for a moment gain Ascendency o'er powers that long have lain Dormant beneath a load of earthly care, And recognize the sounds and sisrhs of home? O O O Melody ! the subtle power is thine The inmost deeps of memory to reach, The heights supreme of hope, till we are come Near the soul's fatherland : we touch the line Beyond which music is the only speech. 186 FAR AND NEAR. THIS little picture from across the sea Shows me a foreign city's stately square, A sculptured column piercing the blue air Within its midst, and fountains dashing free On either side, while many a bowery tree Shades the wide pathways from the summer's glare. Princes of art and sons; have wandered there O In years gone by ; yet is it more to me That in yon olden palace, looking down Upon the winged marbles, dwells to-day The beautiful companion of my youth, Who, roving through the fair, historic town, Thinks of me still, and wafts from far away The blest aroma of a warm heart's truth. 187 FOREST WORSHIP. WE stood beneath the shadow of the wood In Nature's own Cathedral. High in air Hemlock and pine tree met in arches fair, And at our feet, as if they understood The forest's Sabbath's hushed, expectant mood, The waves flowed back, till in the mid-day glare & . The gray rocks stood like monks with foreheads bare. Suddenly from the inner solitude A choir of sparrows in long, sweet refrain Intoned a litany. There was no room For priest nor psalm nor any spoken word, For here the Spirit often sought in vain Brooded at peace, and in the tranquil gloom We almost heard the footsteps of our Lord. 188 ISOLATION. MOST solitary ! This is thy complaint ! Then teach thy brooding spirit to forsake Self-contemplation. Rise up and partake Of Nature's converse. She hath fancies quaint, Poetic moods, love legends without taint, Such as the wild-bird tells by brook and brake, Or the white lily dreams upon the lake, Seen but by cloud and star, a vestal saint. The forest bud expands in perfect bloom, The meadow pool Heaven's starry splendor knows ! So thou superior to thy lonely doom, May'st win each grace the fleeting hour bestows, Until all redolent of rare perfume Thy wilderness shall blossom as the rose. 189 ALTAR FLOWERS. HE loved them, and what offering more meet Wherewith to deck this pleasant, peaceful place, Than flowers, the living Ian<nia9re of His grace. t d? H7 C_? C? Dearer to Him than incense, for their sweet Adoring beauty drew His wayworn feet To linger near them. For their sake His face O Grew luminous, though no brief delight could chase That sacred, inner shadow. See Him greet, With word and touch the lilies of the field ! That word has given them subtler power than speech, That touch has made them glorious ; and the best The purest invocations we can yield, The praise our faltering accents fail to reach, We utter in the flowers that he has blest. 190 STAR SOLITUDE. I SOMETIMES wonder if yon star of even Which has for everlasting ages shone Stately and fair on its immaculate throne, Ever looks forth, with sudden anguish riven, Into the silver space, reproaching heaven That in the very grandeur all its own A doom is fixed, to be for aye alone ! Eternal solitude with glory given. The cottage lamp shines cheerily and strong Into the night. It tells of evening mirth, Of cradle music by the beaming hearth, Rest, comfort, pleasure that to Home belong. But thou, O Radiance ! high above the earth, Ever and only nearest thine own song ! 191 ST. CECILIA. WHEN St. Cecilia, soul of song and fire, Heard angels sing the numbers which had lain Unutterable within her fervid brain, Heart-sick with hopeless, passionate desire, In fragments at her feet she dashed her lyre ! Broken, it could no longer mock her pain, ISTor voice so ill the sweet, ideal strain Which rang melodious from the heavenly choir. O sad saint! was it not enough to know Such music lived, though still beyond thy reach ? And wiser far, with tender touch and slow, Thy instrument's mute helplessness to teach? Content if ever from its strings should flow O Some syllables of that celestial speech ! 192 M191973 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY