cz A A on o (! — — < U ^ m ID I) — UJ M O H > 9 ^ ID n ^ g i> / = ~ ^ 1 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / fLy^J^h^^ SUNBEAMS & SHADOWS; OB, DREAMS IN DAISY LAND. 1853. HittU 3^ctJ ^Mxxs SoatJ. In the sultriness and slumber Of a noontide in July, When of golden Bees a number Hummed with constant murmurs by ; In sultriness and slumber Did the dreaming Eoses lie, Their cheeks each other's pressing, Like sisters fond caressing, ' Neath the deep blue summer sky. From a garden where the shadows Of these Roses ceased to play, As the light breeze from the meadows All unconscious died away ; Where the white acacia's flowers Drooped like silvery tresses down, Kr\i in quaint and tangled bowers Dwelt the Honeysuckles brown ; While the Jasmines fondly leaning 85S85G Clustered porch and cottage door, As tiny hands oft gleaning Searched their fairy blossoms o'er; — With a little basket laden With its gifts a simple store, Went forth a gentle Maiden From the Cottage porch and door, — The Forest to explore. With cakes of curds and honey And of whitest meal besides, Along the pathway sunny Now her shadow softly glides ; Yet her basket firm she carried, And if at times she tarried, 'Twas to pluck the way side Roses ; And though her wildflower posies Made not her burthen lighter. Yet her eyes grew brighter, brighter. For she loved them so completely. And those violets smelling sweetly. How much she would have missed them, And so she stooped and kissed them! Her tresses light of golden hair Danc'd up and down her neck so fair, And all things seemed to love her there, All but the Wolf so gaunt and grim. Earth, had no loveliness for him — She enters now a Forest ground Where twenty centuries shadowed round, Whose awful, proud, majestic Oaks, Ne'er echoed to the Woodman's strokes. Yet all things did her presence greet ; The lowly creatures at her feet : The merry wren that hops and sings ; The tiny lizards, full of fear, That feign to die when danger's near, Like gentlest Natures, stilling down Life, 'neath the cold world's searching frown Lest it might slay them ; these small things With their quick eyes, amid the grass. See her and shadow softly pass. And tremble not. — The squirrel brown From his green bough all fondly down Looks on her, then sedately gnaws. The long stored nut between his paws. But ah, the great Wolf of the Wood Turns his red eyes left and right, Sees the maiden fairy light Coming where he grimly stood : Joyous did she glide along Fearless, dreaming of no wrong ; Naught, a shadow could impart To the sunshine of her heart ; Now she stops, and now she tries, To make friends with butterflies ; Now from little wayside dells Plucks the shadowy dark blue-bells, Looking with her earnest eyes Into theirs for kindred ties : Then again she speeds along Her every footfall like a song ! But ah, a Robber from the Wood Stood and shook his glittering spear, Then the grim wolf backward drew, But the little Maiden, near, Cometh all unconscious too ! Said the Robber, " Sweet young thing Bear'st thou jewels for a King, Instead of flowers, thou shouldst pass All unscathed for me, dear lass !" Then his wild eyes followed far Through the darksome forest ways That fair child, till like a star. Soft she vanished from his gaze ; "Would his pathway had been hers, Through the world ! No, backward then, Turned he to his forest den, 'Neath a gloomy hill of Firs. PART THE SECOND. 0, mystery of mysteries, "Within yon flower a shadow lies Like the purple of thine eyes ; Yon flower that in the lonely wood Softly disclosed its beauty rare, So in thy home's sweet solitude, In innocence and love, fond child, Thou passed'st thy spring time, soft and mild, Thanking the God who placed thee there. A Cottage on a lonely lea Stands 'neath a lightning stricken tree. Yet two fond swallows loved its thatch — A little hand is on the latch — A voice sends greeting, " my child ! You came not through the Forest wild ? Yet, though the road is not so near — " " Dear Grandmaraa, there's nought to fear; I nothing saw but lovely things ; Great moths, with golden purple wings, And little fellows as they sprung All monkey like the boughs among ; I mean the squirrels in their bowers, And ! such lovely, lovely flowers ! I've brought you some ; the curds and honey Mama has sent— they are so sunny — I mean the flowers and not the honey ! Tliough some I got from shady places, For I love all their pretty faces ! " And then she laughed, and jumped about. Caught up the kitten, as it purrs Its little soft face pressed to hers : " For ! they are so sunny, funny — I do not mean the curds and honey — So charming, make the Forest way ; I'll come to-morrow, or next day. And bring you more ? " " My precious dear — go not through the Wood, for fear Of the great Wolf." "A Wolf! what's that?" " A creature vast." " What, as our cat ? " *' 0, bigger far ! I cannot sleep, For fears for thee," " Nay, do not weep ! I'll pass no more the Fofest through, For all the flowers that ever grew ! " " Fondling, look, here's a scarlet hood — A little cloak, worked all by me ; For somebody, so very good ! A little child ; whose may it be ? Come guess !" — " 0, Grandmama, you joke ; But what a darling of a cloak ! " Suddenly flushed her little cheek, And then, she seemed afraid to speak — She touched it with her tiny hand. And then, all downcast seemed to stand : It might be hope, it might be fear. For half-way balanced stood a tear, A secret joy, a little pride ; Then, as her face she sought to hide In Grandma's gown — that lady good. Drew o'er her face the scarlet hood. 9 The great Wolf watched that day, — the next,- At length, with rage and hate perplexed, He plotted deep a fearful scheme, His wakingf thought, his dozing dream ! \o PART THE THIRD. The world hath rung out many chimes, Since the old and mystic times ; Not alone the Poet's strain Seeks to ring them in again ; Lights and shadows in the distance, Though eternal cycles run. And each mystery of existence, Ceases, to he aye begun. Why are the old spells alluring, That through distant ages ranged ? Why are love and faith assuring ? Human Heart ! thou art unchanged — Men for ever, restless moving, Grasp at shadows — fortune, fame, — See those children, loved and loving ; Human Heart ! thou art the same : u Little dear One ! She, who gazes As her eyes with tear drops glisten, Little Fairy, crowned with daisies, Softly stealing near to listen ; Wolves are none at hand to harm her. Wolves she knows have never spoken, But the Tale of old can charm her. Childhood's daisy wreath's unbroken ! Tick tack, click clack. Thumped an old clock 'gainst its walnut back, Sly old clock, with a mock grimace. Ever it holds before its face. Its hands like an ancient Dame afraid You should note the dints which Time has made. A curious bowl, a glass so small, 'Twould have served for the " Luck of Eden Hall," A platter and dish of the oldest Delf, Paired together upon a shelf. And an odd little spoon all by itself, That had eaten its broth without a fellow. And like an old Bachelor, long grown yellow. Against the wall, on a sampler old, Was Lady Godiva, that Danic bo bold. 12 Threadbare through age, she seemed in a rage, And vexed indeed to he left to mellow : The rats in the plaster had made a schism, While a rosemary bough from the rafters damp, Gave decided hints of a twinge of the cramp. Or a fit at least of the rheumatism. An old Lady sat in a high backed chair, Neat was she, and tall and spare, With snow white cap, and scarlet hose. And high heeled shoes v/ith pointed toes. Almost as sharp as her worshipful nose : Purred a kilten, soft and snug. As it played with its tail upon the rug ; Or watched its mistress with comical stare. An apple slow, and sedately pare. The Old Lady sat in a kind of state, She wondered her grandchild came so late : The cricket had ceased to chirp on the hearth, — Many a road has a thorny path. She shuddered and thought of the Wolf of the Wood, And sweet eyed little Ked Riding Hood ! She had saved an apple, an only one. That had hung with its laughing cheek to the sun, l.S -> For little Red Riding Hood loved the tree, And she knew how pleased the child would be. Ah, ha, what's that ? It must be a rat, She wished her kitten had grown to a cat — A whining cry, a lamb-like bleat. Then something like great shuffling feet ; A breathing 'gainst the window pane, And then, a stifled cry again ! 'Twas one of God's creatures moaning there, — Might be in hunger or in despair — Not hers to stay a hand in need, Though poor the gift, yet blessed the deed. She hobbled across her lowly floor, With a stick in hand she has reached the door ; She raised the latch, — with a frightful grin, The Wolf of the Wood strode fiercely in ! 0, what a scene of wrong and dread, When false feet come with murderous tread, A single moment o'er all may spread ! The frantic kitten, far aloof, Screamed on a rafter beneath the roof ; 14 The floor was strewed with wrecks around, And damp and dark was the sanded ground. Stretched on the Led with frightful stare, Licking his red paws, there he lies. The Wolf, the Wolf, with blood stained eyes And savage fangs, so grim and bare. He listens — ah, quick his ears uprise, A soft low voice came silvery sweet. Then a laugh and a sound of little feet : " Dear child," he whispers, " Come in, 1 lie In bed so ill, I am like to die ! " — His feigned voice did strangely jar, He croaked like a crow with a bad catarrh ! " The door is only upon the catch, Just pull the bobbin, 'twill lift the latch ; Creep in, creep in, though the bed be small. You may nestle you snugly by the wall." •' grandmama, grandmama, how strange you seem to night ; And with that cap, and twisted so, you surely look a fright ; How grey your hair, and long it is ? " — " ' Twill keep me warmer dear." — 15 "And such great ears ! " "The better child, your prattle I shall hear." " But what a beard ! " "A royal beard, the King could boast no more." " And such sharp nails ! " " The fashion now — to cut them is a bore." " Your eyes so fierce, and then, so red ! 0, do not look again." " Well, go and fetch my spectacles, they shall not give you pain." "And then, such teeth! " " My little dear, my charming Eiding Hood, He's got you in his arms at last, the great Wolf of the Wood ! One little hug ; your foolish flowers, we'll strew them o'er the ground. Above a little grassy heap, where safe you'll sleep and sound ! " 16 Poor little thing, her stifled cries — her hands before her face, Her tears, her little earnest prayers, that he would grant her grace ; In vain, in vain, as well might plead, the softest lamb-like bleat, For safety to a savage heart, that ne'er to mercy beat — In life's first instinct dwells its last, the young child knows no other, In prayer, in latest consciousness, she called upon her mother. What would she say ? what would she feel ? what could her grief denote ? To see, dead ! dead ! her little one, with that red mark in its throat ! The wolf so fierce — but 'tis o'er; his very breath has slain. And Heaven in mercy, to itself calls its angel home again : So still, so white, and not one sigh ; the grim one half upraised Himself and with a sullen glare upon his victim gazed : One little tress adown her neck, upon her bosom lay, No murmur, not a ripple ; — Death ! what is thy secret, say ? How mutely eloquent, how calm, that weak, that gentle one ; Her dim eyes drooped like pale blue flowers beneath the scorching sun : 17 Her lips like cloven cherries were, when parted to the stone Half closed, through which her little teeth like purest ivory shone. Hut ah, a step, a heavy step — another victim near ? The grim wolf sprang him to the door ; he met the Robber's spear; ' Neath his fore-arm, right through his heart, it pierced the outer side. The savage writhed him on the stake, yelled at his foe, — and died. Beneath the grass they buried her, and though no flowers were shed. The little purple "Eye bright" soon the soft green turf o'er spread; At night there came a lovely bird, that from a wild rose- bush, Sang clearer than the nightingale, and softer than the thrush ; At dawn it breathed a low fond lay, a hymn of Paradise, Then stretched its hovering wings and rose, and melted in the skies. 18 THE PASSAGE BIRDS OF MEMORY I know they come not till the Spring, Yet dream they're in yon distant sky, And fancy every breeze will bring The Passage Birds of Memory. I see the Violet shrined in leaves, The lady Primrose, pale and lone, But 0, the voice that 'neath our eaves. Once whispered Music ! Is it gone ? Perchance some echoes linger yet, — Ah, no, the River darkly speeds, No gentle shadows o'er it flit, No music, but from moaning reeds. desolate home, that stands among The fairest scenes from Love apart. That has no voice to glad like Song, The Summer places of the Heart ! Our hope may fade, yet poor we know. Is Faith, that fears the winter sky. When, hush ! beneath the thatch sings low. One Passage Bird of Memory ! 19 THE LOST BRIDE. He heard, he hears it still, lier latest sigh, The faint and faltering word, "farewell," yes, all, The last slight movement of her fingers small, He saw it, sees it still, and could she die ! She, who so lately smiling through her tears, Pressed to his heart as hers had found its home. Its stay, it sure repose for future years, Now rests where he to her shall never come — He knows it, feels it — with a mute despair, Aimless — he wandereth, seeking everywhere Foi something lost or left in haste behind, And which he surely die unless he find — And now, her book he sees, just laid aside, The leaf last marked turned down, some tale of sorrow, Yet like their love as whispering once she cried, With her sweet smile, " We'll finish it to-morrow" — To morrow ? aye, must he sit watching there. Or rise to seek her, find her, greet her, where ? Within yon chamber ? whence the jasmines wreathe Around her casement ? in yon bower where breathe Eoses not half so lovely t — Listau, hark ! 20 A step, it comes ! it mocks him ; through the dark A something moves, a wild low murmur sings As of a voice — and then, mysterious rings A sound of wedding bells — a peal ; it rolled, no ! no wedding bells, 'twas one, it tolled ! In hopelessness, in utter recklessness, Down on his heart a giant hand doth press : He trembles, what is that ? a vase, where she Placed flowers but lately, and in girlish glee, Laughed as she told him, " If she left that spot. Before they withered, she should love him not !" They had not faded — she was gone — and lo ! She loved him not ! — she could not tell him so ! Gone whither ? from that room late darkened — where. They laid her — weeping — ah, his eyes he hid, He heard, he hears it still, in his despair, The last blow struck upon her coffin lid ! Away, out in the fields, out, anywhere ; Upon her grave there's sunlight — by her side The strong hale man may throw him — there abide Till his fierce agony has passed, and then He may go forth among his fellow men, Broken in spirit, sad, yet purified, Through the sweet memory of one gentle love. ^1 A simple, guileless, hopeful one, his Bride, But not lor Earth, his Angel that hath died, With her blue eyes, an influence from above. Through after years of passion to preside O'er his lone heart like the descending Dove. THE STORM. A dream-like calm prevails. Some boding ill seems nigh, And clouds like ships with drooping sails. Drift slovrly through the sky. ' Neath a red pavilion rent, As the Warrior's race were run. Through the heavens he fired in his descent. Goes down the stormy sun- Like a sword unsheathed in play, There shot gleams in fitful mood, From a wild low ridge of clouds, away, Through the thunderous solitude. 2!^ No sound — save a fearful hush, As 'iieath shadow of viewless wings, Earth stricken lay 'neath the passing rush Of a thousand unseen things. Not a sound — yet the forest bowed. And the rack was eddying driven ; And wild and vast streamed a sable cloud, Like a pall across the heaven. It seems like the eve of doom, When the mightiest hills shall reel, It seems — ah, hark ! through the deepening gloom, Comes the crashing thunder peal ! THE GREEK GIRUS FUNERAL. A DIRGE. sweet low Mysian flute,* A heart throb in each sigh ! Like soft melodious tears, Like youth's fond dreaming years * Note. — The Mysian Flute from its sweet and plaintive tone was used at funerals among tke Greeks. That murmuring pass by — say not, she is gone ! Though lier dear lips be mute, Our Zoe could not die ! Ah, flower of fairest birth, We weeping bear thine urn, Sweet Zoe, yet return ! Speak, as thou didst on earth, And lest we mourn too wildly, say, Thou hast not yet quite passed away. But in the music that we hear. All echo-like thy voice shall breathe A last farewell to friends so dear. Lest they too deeply grieve. Zoe, but one sigh ! And when the flute is wailins- low. Just whisper back one fond reply, For we all loved you so — Then soft as though a roseleaf stirred, Upon the garland on thine urn, Be thy dear voice but once more heard, Sweet Zoe, yet return ! 24 A lovely star, so near, so bright, It halfway seems 'twixt Earth and Night A Bell, that through the darkness rings, What time the stormy turret swings : A stream, for ages gliding by. To the same lone monotony : A Forest drear, by man ne'er planted. Gloomy with Firs, and half enchanted : A fortress, through whose ruined walls, Serenely soft the moonlight falls : A child to bless this world of ours. Gathering handfulls of blue flowers : The Good and Evil, Old and Strange, In one unvarying interchange : A rosebud fresh ; a withered wreath ; The mystery of Life ; a breath ; Then, the solemnity of Death ! 25 A PICTURE. A dog bayed to the lonely Night, The ember fires with dull red light, Gleamed from the distant hills, and lo, The great broad Moon with sullen glow, "Mid a long streaming haze looked on The outspread scene like some lost Sun, Some exile of the skies. There went A lone sigh up as a lament From the dark river ; to and fro The lank reeds muttered to the air, And three old Willows, scant of leaves. Waved their thin tresses ; Twilight weaves, A murmur like a voice that told Some Mystery of the Seers of old, Who from Chaldea's mountains read The fate of Kings. — Speak low, there ringK To those who love a soft fond chime. Telling us. Earth shrouds many things Matchless, we ne'er may learn thro' Time : Yet now, e'en Silence hath a tone Of Music, a mute eloquence, 26 As unseen spirits to our own Spoke in a purer, holier sense, — The ripple of a brook, the air That plays around a flower, the bleat Of some young thing from the far fold, The rustle of the tiny feet Of some wild creature from the wold, A music, ever soft and sweet. That tells us when we most despair. And seem to be alone, — alone, Some poor heart answers, beat for beat, Answers, and trembles to our own ! LIFE'S LIKE A SUMMER STREAM." Life's like a Summer stream, they say. And we are swallows o'er it flying, One moment dip in silver spray Our wings, and then away ! away ! Our home's far distant lying. 27 not in vain each wanderer grieves, He goes, but when may find him, Some southern home 'mid forest leaves, Like those dear vine-clad cottage eaves, The swallow leaves behind him ! Yet ere we part, we linger so. We fear each change of weather ; But the brave swallows when they go, Though fresh the Autumn breezes blow, Out ride the storm together. DARK EYES. Rain, rain, dark eyes, your spells Did first my soul illume. As one who long in twilight dwells, Sees starlight through the gloom. Rain, rain, dark eyes, your shower Did search my wrapped soul through, As 'neath your stormy power, I loved, but trembled too. 28 But ye withdrew — then left My soul like a lone lake, Amid wild mountains cleft, Did still your image take. A lake, no billow sweeps, That hushed, unclouded lies, And dveams, as to its depths it sleeps- Kain down, rain down, dark eyes i BLUE EYES. A snow-white violet nurtured in deep shade. Where waving ferns were spread, Heard a sweet murmur overhead. As some wild harp were by a lover played ; ' Twas but the roving wind that sighed and went ; She sweetly startled, saw the first clear skies Of Evening, with a star that floated there, So darkly blue, yet beautifully bright, It seemed she looked up to night's golden eyes ; Then all her soul was filled with azure light ; 29 Alas, soon deepening with a new born care, That brighter worlds should make earth seem less fair, And lowly she, might be forgotten quite ! So gentle Linda, tliy fond eyes of blue Brightened with hopes for earthly love, then grew Darkened with fears : and yet, from out of thought. And sorrow, all the loveliest things are wrought ; Stars ar« seen but at night ; 'tis well for pride. Some rough wind comes to blow the boughs aside. That shadow o'er our souls, and self love fond. And show us brighter worlds our own beyond, — But thy blue eyes should weep not ; Look, dear love, E'en through the parting boughs, there's Hope and Heaven above ! SUNNY EYES.; A FAIRY TALE. On ebon couch inwrought with gold With starry mantle overspread, And crimson draperies that unfold Their deepening shadows round her head ; so She sleeps, slie sleeps, she ever sleeps — The soft white blended with the red : She never smiles, she never weeps. But soul-like, purej unconscious keeps, And through the long dim ages sleeps ! lite in death ! enshrined among Colossal forms of ancient might, 'Neath old heraldic shields which swung. Where banners flushed in rosy light : Beside her couch, from ancient time A Lion, champion of her cause. Like Mythic God, in rest sublime. Couched his vast head between his paws ; But 0, she never smiles nor weeps, But soul-like, pure, unconscious keeps, And through the long dim ages sleeps ! Each fountain ere it ceased to play, Had trickling died with drowsy sound, While o'er its marble basin, grey. The deep green moss incrusting wound ; It wound along its slothful way, For ages creeping on the ground. 31 The quaintly figured tapestries, Of shepherd kings, with crowns of gold, Drooped like cloud shadows of the skies As twilight slept in every fold. Day came and passed in dream-like guise. As all things dimmed and died away, While through the long arched galleries, Like some great spirit, full of eyes, The starry evening, tranced lay. The wonder world of thought was still, And like a marvellous clock unwound "Was life, and every sense and thrill. Yet day and night the world went round. life, love, in dim eclipse, And yet how rosy are thy lips ! A movement — yes, a little stir, — Scarce thread of silken gossamer, Miglit note how soft life's current flows. How calm, deep, true, was her repose — For 0, she neither smiles, nor weeps, But soul-like, pure, unconscious keeps, And through the long dim ages sleeps ! S2 Nay, hush ! — within those fated halls 0, wondrous sound ! a gentle tread, Yet fearful, as a step that falls 'Mid cloistered chambers of the dead ; He comes, he comes, hope too blessed ! He wonders, if so fair a form, Shrined aught of life, and trembling pressed, His lips to hers, so sweet, so warm ! She breathes, she sighs, the spell confessed Like some fond child, long left alone, That dreams its mother shares its rest. Within his arm she wound her own, Then wakened — that dear surprise. The light of two such sunny eyes. Shone on him with such mirthful gleams. She must have had some glorious dreams ! love, life, you're happy soon. And so — the morn brought golden June ; The hazel boughs were full of song, And little roses laughed among The bushes, and the mountain brooks Were chrystal clear as her dear looks : 33 Then music voiced, Love spoke anew, Through what it sought was won it knew ; No cloud did shadow the calm skies, Of Hope and Trust in her fond eyes. He took her hand ; like echoes heard In sleep of some far distant sphere, She answered him in one sweet word, That breathless died upon his ear — And then, " We will go forth together, The air is full of summer weather, And all the earth beneath our feet Is purpled thick with violets sweet, A radiance in the leaves, the air, Sparkles like welcome everywhere. And Truth, deep as those skies above" — She raised her brow, " Shall hallow Love ! For ah, not all for Earth designed And we" — and then, " wondrous Sleep ! Dream was with golden dream entwined, Yet aye would some good Fairy creep. Beside mine ear, and breathe in song, He comes at last who tarries long." 34 THE ROSE AND THE SOUTH WIND. Gracefully, gracefully, bend the green willow boughs, Casting a wreath o'er each wave as it goes, Fondly the South Wind, low breathed as a lover's vows, Whispers, " 'Mong flowers, you are matchless, dear Rose." Sighed back the Rose again, " Can I believe you ? South Wind, your voice is a soft as a Fairy's ;" Answered the False One, " ne'er I'll deceive you, Mine is no fancy each moment that varies," Said the sweet Rose again, "All doubts are over — Morning and evening I'll list to thy song ;" " Nay," quoth the South Wind, " You know I'm a rover. Sure Lady Lily's been slighted too long ! " So a kiss and farewell — they're your rosebuds, sweet pledges. Just unfolding, all cares of a mother need they;" So speaking, 'raid jasmines, and white hawthorn hedges, Soft and low, swept the false one all heedless away. 81 THE BRIDE OF THE GARONNE. The Nectarine, Apple, and the Plum, A ripening lustre wear ; For now had lovely Summer come, — The Birds sang low, or else were dumb, The Bees were all abroad, their hum So filled the golden air. Beside the brook the Lily bowed. Half sighing for the evening cloud ; The brook, a lone wild ripple made. Then murmured softly to the shade, Just as some roving Troubadour Sings as he greets a lady's bower: A lady's bower — yes, here is one, No wandering Bard would willing shun. And young Louise is watching now — She stands, — across the river looks ; A lakelike stream with willowy nooks : One hand is lifted to her brow — She muses ; why with glad surprise Light up the depths of hor dark eyes ? 82 There glides into the prospect fair, All hushed as was the Summer air, A little boat with banner blue, well that fond device she knew. It comes ; yes, to that silent shore — Ah no, like shivering silver strown Across the stream, the breeze once more Fills the white sail and it is gone ; Gone with the tide in shadowy light. As down the purple depths of night, Gleams one faint cloud then mocks the sight. Louise, false such visions are. Yet wert thou sleeping lightly, love. Ere sank the latest truant star — That night some spirit sought to prove Thy faith in dreams like net work thrown Inlaced with threads of golden thought. What roses on thy cheek they wrought, What light was there — Ah, not disown Ye deemed ye saw that boat ; it broke The mirror of the Lake, and woke The waters into music ; nay. It anchored, did not sail away. And the next moment on the strand He knelt to thee. He soothed thy fears, Calming them all with kisses, till, Ye had no answer but fond tears ! 83 Then, as the Jessamine flowers at last, Threw shadows on the window sill, Came morning, and the vision pass'd. first deep Love ! how most retiring. And yet how true — Louise, resembled A young Flower by a Brook that trembled. To the fond nightwind's breath admiring ; And He she loved, though heaven, though earth, Starlight, deep shades, and forests dim, And every thing of purest birth, And holy night seemed full of Him, She scarce might breathe his name, but so, It echoed to her heart's content. That evermore around her went A spell that murmured, " Angelo." Lovely Summer had gone by ; Summer, dreaming of the tune, Of a brooklet in deep June, Or of slumberous things which lie Cloudlike, in her silent sky ; And like glow of sunset eves, 'Mid the gorgeous Forest leaves. Glimmered Autumn, rich and golden. It was night — and softly folden In her leaves the Lily slept ; Stars, a holy vigil kept ; ii'\ Nothing stirred on land or Lake, Save some creature through the brake ; Nothing moved in Heaven's deep blue, But a Star, that falling drew A train of silver o'er the wood — And Thought went upward like a Prayer, For in that glorious solitude, It was as God alone were there ! Half up a Mountain red with vines. And many a flowering thing that twines, Against the storm to what it loves ; half way, In sullen grandeur gloomed a Castle grey. Now, all with lights its casements shine. For this night had Sir Eustace stored, The amber and the blood red wine ; Sparkled the cup to Chief and Lord ; Below the salt, each serf was guest, And grateful passed, nor wine, nor jest. But see, the young Louise — her slight And lovely form in trembling light, Pale as her Country's Kose ; her eyes. Blue as the depth of midnight skies Before the moon is up ; her face. Bent downwards with a troubled grace — Light, wavelike on her tresses caught Threw shadows 'neath each brow and lid, 85 As beauty were some inner thought, With spells from sordid mortals hid. Soft eyes, with such deep feeling beaming, So kind, so loving, and so true, As though some holy thing they knew, That lit them up with mystic gleaming ! She took the wine, and trembling, filled A chalice to its sparkling brim ; And not a golden drop was spilled : She looked around in vain for him, — 'This night, 'tis her stern Sire's award That she should choose her future Lord From out his guests ; a prophecy So ran, or all she loved would die — Bear him the wine cup too — In vain She stays, she looks, He is not there The Bridegroom of her dream — never ! He comes, and she is lost for ever. * Who were her Suitors ? half a score — Sir Brian, hunter of the boar, Venant the wealthy, Guy the grim, The cats set up their backs at him ; Sir Raoul de Creci, rich his blood. Yet fierce as Mahound, carved in wood, Modred — who to that feast had hurried. His seventh wife that morning buried : 86 They wait impatient — frowned or smiled, As doubt, or hope, or fear beguiled. Ah, she had pressed her father's hand ; Long knelt — could he her prayers withstand ? Her tears ? Yes, Slave to his self pride. Affections fond, which once had bloomed Like flowers, by the cold world entombed In his bleak heart, had petrified. And is Louise then lost ? Again, She stays — she lingers, hark ! a strain, A few wild notes, a lyre whose chords. Were heart strings kissed by burning words ; A passionate throb, a spell awake, A flutter, as a heart might break ; Then all was hushed, until it seemed, Defined yet soft, as some one dreamed, And as the loved old past revived, To some lost sense of beauty lived : As long ago, and far away. Beyond the ridge of mountains grey, Some chord was struck that seemed to glow With memory of some purer life, Far, far away, long, long ago, Ere battle came with passion's strife ! Whence is the Minstrel ? all in vain Sir Eustace with a frown would stay 87 The Harper, but upswept his song, In one wild impulse, fierce and strong — Dance war plumes, banners wave on high, The rush of shadowy Chivalry ! With half suspended breath, all ! all ! Within that scutcheoned clustered hall, Sway to and fro ; those burning words, Sung to that burning lyre now clash As w:ildly as opposing swords, Now winged like victory through the chords, Of that wild harp in glory flash ! Then softly, as 'raid Forest leaves, When Twilight mystery interweaves, Quaint shadows with the Summer eves, And all the Spirit world renews Its memory in faint sunset hues — Came a lay, sad as a moaning, 'Mid a wild wood hushed and haunted. Where some maiden left alone in. Her death song all sweetly chanted : Like a hymn as she were dreaming. Dying meek, as Faith had won her, When God's stars in holy seeming. Opened their fond eyes upon her. Hark ! a Fairy bugle blast — Another ! the weird Hunter pass'd ; 88 Pass'd at least, or seemed to go ; The Castle tapestry trembled so : What a phantom thing is fear ! Then like rush of spirits near, Red leaves 'neath the Autumn sky, Danced about and eddied by ! Sudden rose the serfs, they cry, " Reward the minstrel ! hither bring, The wreath, of Harpers he is King ! " Sir Eustace frowned, deigned no reply, But clutched his sword, half drawn — in vain ! There was a stronger spirit there, Than all his rage, or his disdain. " Reward the minstrel ! he shall share The feast, thy daughter ! let her bring The cup, he's worthy to be king ! " " Louise — forbear ! " her father cried, Too late — ^her lover's by her side ! softly fell the whisper, near, " My sweet Louise ! " — she could but hear " I'm thine, dear girl ! thine Angelo ! " She trembles, ah, she blushes too ; Then with a manner sweet and fond, A grace all studied art beyond. Her brow against his shoulder pressed. She said, " the dove hath found her rest !" " The wine ! " he cried, " let us try If we can solve this prophecy ! " 89 Behold, it sparkles ! see, 'tis gone ! One drop for thee I've left alone, That glimmers like a kiss to show. How many more, dear girl ! I owe — Sir Eustace ! wilt thy child resign ! You do not like my music ! nay, Your health ! I pledge you, father mine. And thank you with " a parting lay." Soft thrilled his hand among the strings, On tiptoe stood each soul, with wings ; He clashed the chords with might, with might. They shouted, " Lead us to the Fight !" Another lay, less wild, more sweet. They laid their weapons at his feet ! He rose ; his purple mantle thrown Over Louise, as her fond cheek Could not her fears, her love disown ; " Weep not my gentle girl, but speak !" " To speak ! that were but to tell " — She hid her brow, she murmured low, " To tell, what long thou could'st but know." Pressed to his heart, words softer fell, " Dear Love ! I will deserve thee well." " And thy true Harp !" she gently cried, " The Minstrel broke the Warrior's pride !" " Yes, yes, Louise ! but whence could be The Minstrel's pride if not for thee ? 90 True life is Love, and uttered thought Should still be Love, to music wrought ; For aye, to trusting hearts, and fond, A thousand melodies respond !" And they have gone ! — Thy stream, Garonne ! Bore their light shallop swiftly on : Pursuit and fear left far behind, Soft came these echoes down the wind : — Listen ! listen! full is ever This wide world with music true ; Naught can still it, crush it, never — Naught that hate or wrong may do. Deep affection's faith may falter, And the loved ne'er love again; Prayer beside a ruined altar Breathe Devotion's dying strain — Gentle, humble, all who tremble While fierce passions round them jar, Shall hear whispers that resemble Angel voices from afar. None so weary, none so lonely, But some heart responsive gives. Beat for beat, and Love need only Touch the chords, and Music lives ! 91 Though the world with darkness blendeth, Though the wood be hushed and drear, Though the lone flower trembling bendeth, As the cold wind moaneth near — Morn shall come — Again from blindness All to life and glory start — So like light, one touch of kindness, Wakes the music of the heart ! So no spot is desert, lonely, Where one breath of Summer springs. Where one flower abideth only, Or one bird remains and sings. Then let feudal splendour perish ! Love out breathe her song alone, Some fond thing each heart shall cherish, As I fold thee to mine own ! Listen ! listen ! — Stars are fleeting Through the solitude above — Ever is a voice repeating, Soft as music, " God is Love !" They passed away — were seen no more, The Minstrel and his 13ride ; some shore 92 Beyond the grey horizon's rim, Some land, where Faith grows never dim. Was the true home their shallop sought ; Yet from that hour, as Legends say, All down the stream they tracked their way, The wave a softer murmur caught. The sky with deeper blue has shone, The wind has breathed a music tone ! THE FAIRY OF THE WOOD. Those childhood hours, those childhood hours, We loved, — where are they ? Like garlands wrought of woodland flowers, They smiled and passed away. But other spells will linger yet. Such charms my Fairy drew ; For those who've loved cannot forget, They've loved and trusted too ! Yes, trusted, Mary, as beneath The stars in fondest mood, I crowned Thee with my flowery wreath, My " Fairy of the Wood." 9,3 My Fairy ! could I believe Thy presence but a Dream, That mocked rae^oft at starry eve, By wood and mossy stream ! no ! — Thy lips virere warm and pure, And in thy soft blue eyes, 1 deemed I read my hopes as sure As Fate in starry skies. But eyes and stars deceive us yet ; This creed alone is true, " That those who've loved, cannot forget, Tlie've loved and trusted too !" SUNSET. I saw a dreamlike cloud unfurled In the hushed West, as parting light, Before the starry Angels rise. Cast some faint shadow through the skies, Of that unknown and distant World, Which lies beyond the blue of night. 94 I said, " There is in loneliness Of grief, or passion's darker stress. Some deep pure fountain that will start To light through gloom, and hope's decay, And fall, when touched by Love's sweet ray, In dewy freshness on the heart." I prayed — " Spirit "World ! whence given The charm of beauty to the flower, To sunset, waters, stars and Heaven ; Teach they not aye the accord which never. From all's that's fair around will sever Our best emotions ? the deep power Of outward Nature upon Thought, Till each expression thence is wrought With formal beauty ?" — Every where Heaven's own and gentlest spirit, Love Whispers, " The True must be most Fair." There's not a Reed that trembles so To Night's soft breathings but doth move Upon the mission God hath sent it, Waving ever to and fro, As the grey stream winds along : Not a Brook, that murmurs by To the old monotony. It sang ages long ago, But it wraps our thoughts among 95 Dreams of mountain, cloud and sky : Not a Flower, but Sybil-like weaves Responses 'mid tlie forest leaves ; Repeating fondly to the Wind, " I am proof of Art and Mind, Though the humblest of my kind." Not a Star, but Night hath meant it There to be a Witness, shining O'er the dying day's declining. Touching many a chord which stirs Within our hearts, we scarce know why, ' The deep fond hope, which Faith avers, The Dream of Immortality ! "Lisette meme, lielas ! n'est plus qu'une ombre." Ber anger. I wander through thy garden, whither art thou flown. The butterflies are roving. Through its wilderness alone. 96 Yes, flower with flower inwreatliing, All pensive stand I now, As with its rosy breathing, « Sports the west wind on my brow. Yet know I, Thou art near me, As in the waning light, The presence wont to cheer rne Rises star-like with the nigh Listen, listen, how those belli. Through the deep woods ringing, Waken something like the spells, I heard when She was singing ; Singing, singing, long ago, I heard when she was singing. Softly swelling, then remote, Still their echoes cheer me, Lingering like some fairy note, As angels whispered near me, Near me — near me — long ago. When She was singing near me. 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