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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 DR. AND MRS. ELMER BELT
 
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 ii.fl!]!h.tiEli 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ANGEL OF CHAEm^ 
 
 The evening hour had stolen o'er tlie earth, 
 Nature's sweet time of holy, calm repose. 
 Night's mystic wand, with soft, mysterious 
 
 charm, 
 Had touched the land, shrouding in sombre 
 
 hue 
 A city fair, whose thousand homes had 
 
 glowed
 
 6V- 
 
 4tcr^nrit giiglttitt^al^. 
 
 With all the gorgeous tints of sunset light, 
 Such light as only bathes the hallowed soil 
 Of Italy. 
 
 The quivering moonlight crept 
 O'er dome and cloistered cell, illumining 
 The gray cathedral walls ; sending to rest. 
 In sheltered nooks, the shadows dim and 
 
 strange 
 Which haunt the classic piles that tower 
 
 high 
 Above the sleeping city's silent gloom, 
 And flecking with a liquid, silver sheen, 
 
 -A©
 
 (5V- 
 
 The crested waves that dimpled Arno's 
 tide. 
 
 Shades of the illustrious dead seemed 
 
 hovering round 
 Their cherished earthly home, in converse 
 
 sweet, — 
 'Mid spots that earth deems consecrated 
 
 ground, — 
 With spirits that still shed abroad their 
 
 love 
 And poesy. That night, round Florence's 
 
 walls. 
 
 ^'
 
 A halo of encliantment lingered long. 
 Within its precincts fair, still fresh and 
 
 bright 
 With glory of departed centuries, 
 A little light first quickened into life, — 
 A light destined to shed a radiance pure 
 O'er one dark page in earth's sad history. 
 And came there not upon the still night- 
 breeze, 
 A floating strain of harmony divine, 
 A fragment of an anthem angels sing 
 Hailing the advent of a spirit here, 
 Whose mission is of holy love and peace ? 
 
 -c^
 
 Sure Llessed was that uii:i:lit witli Heaven's 
 
 own smile, 
 That claimed the birth of Florence Night- 
 ingale, 
 And one more leaf of fresh, undying hue. 
 Her name has added to the laurel wreath 
 That crowns thy brow, O Italy ! 
 
 The scene 
 Is changed. No more the light of South- 
 ern skies 
 Enriched by added lustre from the Past, 
 Smiles down upon the new-awakened life,
 
 But England rocks tlie fair cliild on lier 
 
 breast, 
 And cradles it within lier own sweet liome. 
 Far from tlie noisy city's din and strife, 
 Nurtured witli love in Nature's verdant lap, 
 Whose great heart's measured beatings 
 
 she could hear, 
 And note the rapid pulse of throbbing life, 
 Her childhood passed, — fresh, innocent and 
 
 gay. 
 
 Yet, with a mind and soul of riper years, 
 Unsoiled, unstained by contact with the 
 world. 
 
 .^;
 
 (I5V — — "^W 
 
 Her heart with all its fresh, warm sympa- 
 thy, 
 Soon oped at sight of human grief and 
 
 woe. 
 The fragrant breath of Spring, the joyous 
 
 song 
 Of warblers wild, the golden harvest-fruit, 
 And rippling music of the stream, — all 
 
 spoke 
 To her of the great Father's boundless 
 
 love. 
 And prompted an impulsive w^ish, a strong 
 And earnest hope, to add her little mite 
 To the swift tide of pitying, active love,
 
 And slied in darkened homes tlie radiant 
 
 liglit 
 Of " Leaven-born Charity." 
 
 Oft, hand in hand 
 AYith childhood's cherished love,— a sister 
 
 dear, 
 She trod with printless feet the grass- 
 grown path 
 That led to the drear, sorrowful abode 
 Of Poverty. A basket, choicely stored 
 With food, a home of luxury supplied ;
 
 Some little comfort for the invalid ; 
 A passage from the Holy Book of Life, 
 Kead by a voice so full of melody, — 
 Seemed to those weary, grief- worn, toil- 
 tried hearts. 
 Like rain upon the parched and thirsty 
 
 land ; 
 As dew within the drooping lily-cup, 
 Drew yet a breath of sweetness and per- 
 fume 
 From faded, withered lives. 
 
 Time urges on
 
 His eager, pauseless course. The young, 
 
 frail gii^l 
 Has ripened into thoughtful womanhood. 
 Not what, perchance, the world deems 
 
 beautiful. 
 But fair and bright with loveliness of soul. 
 That beams from brow and eye, speaks in 
 
 the tones 
 Of a soft voice, and circles word and deed 
 With grace and sweet humility. Feeling 
 That life is given for action not for rest, 
 For the fulfilment of some noble aim, 
 She pauses not along its flower-strewn 
 
 path
 
 To sip its honied sweets, but, pressing on, 
 Points others on the heavenward course ; 
 
 urges 
 With gentle, yet resistless power, to try 
 The safe, though steep ascent of that great 
 
 Hill 
 Whose summit is illumed by Learning's 
 
 light; 
 And lifts with tender hand the weary ones 
 Who sink beneath life's weighty load. 
 
 Thus days 
 And weeks glide by, each bearing on its wing 
 The record of some good and holy deed, 
 To cheer and elevate mankind.
 
 But liark ! 
 
 What threatening tones sound on the quiet 
 air? 
 
 The trumpet-blast of "War, re-echoing 
 shrill, 
 
 Calls England's braves to meet the coming 
 storm. 
 
 Overhanging clouds of thick, portentous 
 gloom, 
 
 With thunder muttering from their murky- 
 depths. 
 
 Obscure the calm and sunny light of Peace. 
 
 From cheerful, happy homes, throughout 
 the land. 

 
 4lornui; |1ij[)htin()ali;. 15 
 
 Goes up a wail of sorrow and of woe. 
 Britannia's noblest sons, the joy and pride 
 Of household bands, with dauntless front 
 
 go forth. 
 To battle for disputed rights, and win 
 The empty bubble of chivalric fame. 
 Over Crimean fields. War's demons dark 
 With blackened brow prevail. Defiance 
 
 fierce 
 From out the hostile tented-camps is 
 
 hurled, 
 And Europe's challenged hosts at last are 
 
 closed 
 In fearful strife. 
 
 '^f
 
 From Balaklava's plain, 
 Deep-dyed and crimsoned o'er witli pre- 
 cious blood, 
 Come tidings sore to anxious, beating hearts 
 On English soil. The air resounds with 
 
 moans 
 And plaintive cries. A thousand joyous 
 
 homes 
 Are lone and desolate. A mother here, 
 Heart-broken, longs but once again to press 
 Her darling to her breast ; a loving wife 
 To gaze upon the dying one, to her 
 Dearer than all, than life itself.
 
 Meanwliile, 
 Disease and death and wretcliedness are rife 
 Tlirougliout the seat of war. No gentle 
 
 liand 
 Is tliere to cool the fevered, throbbing 
 
 brow 
 That finds no rest from agonizing pain, 
 No voice to whisper words of holy peace 
 To the departing soul. 
 
 But one brave heart, 
 One noble, sympathizing breast, is warm 
 "With an -el-love. To Florence Nightingale
 
 The supplicating cry of pain and woe 
 Hatli not been raised in vain. The liour 
 
 is come, 
 The moment for heroic enterprise, 
 And sacrifice of self, perchance of life. 
 She feels her country's need. She hears 
 
 the voice 
 Within, that bids her soul be true, be 
 
 strong. 
 She heeds not pleasure's call or the appeal 
 Of enervating ease and luxury, 
 Or warning tones, that tell of danger, vv^ant 
 And care, but, buckling on her heavenly 
 
 shield.
 
 ^£- — ?g 
 
 ^noitnrc lli^hiinplif, 10 
 
 Goes forth in trustful, humble confidence, 
 Her woman's weakness rendered strong by 
 
 power 
 Of earnest faith and love. 
 
 With holiness 
 
 And purity enthroned upon her brow, 
 
 And goodness slirined Avithin her noble 
 
 heart, 
 
 She speeds upon the wings of Charity, 
 A messenger of light, and joy, and peace 
 
 To suifering humanity. And soon 
 
 The precious freight on ocean's heaving 
 
 ]jreast 
 
 'Ms 
 
 yi
 
 Is borne, — whose ceaseless, surging ebb 
 
 and flow 
 Seem beating time for all eternity, — 
 And liglit at length illuminates the gloom 
 That spread its heavy pall of misery 
 Around the suffering host at Scutari. 
 A thrill of joy is felt throughout the camp, 
 And grateful hearts send up their prayer- 
 ful praise, 
 And blessings spring along the path of her 
 Who, like an angel strayed from heaven 
 
 above 
 With magic power sheds gladness over 
 aU.
 
 ^= ^ ^ 
 
 ^torarij Uiiglifinigali;. '-^i 
 
 Where wretclieclness and strife triumphant 
 
 reigned, 
 A hallowed peace is soft diffused. With 
 
 hand 
 And heart unwearied, she supplies the 
 
 wants n 
 
 Of needy, wounded ones, — dark hours to 
 
 cheer, 
 And soothe with thouo^hts of home the 
 
 invalid, 
 Her never-tiring care, 
 
 A sufferer here 
 Upon his lonely pallet lies. His brow 
 
 3?'? ■ '■ -^^
 
 Witli lieat and pain tlirobs fast, and rest- 
 1 essly 
 
 His weary limbs toss on tlie sleepless coucli. 
 
 A dream of liome steals o'er Ms fevered 
 brain, 
 
 And eagerly the sick one's arms are 
 stretched 
 
 To clasp the dear one to his yearning 
 breast. 
 
 The fair, young wife is there, whose pres- 
 ence bright 
 
 Had filled his heart with sacred joy. Alas ! 
 
 The vision fades, and tears, dew-drops of 
 woe. 

 
 & 
 
 ?^ 
 
 Fill the dim eyes. But, liusli! Is it a 
 
 dream ? 
 A gentle step falls light upon his ear, 
 Cool hands are pressed upon the burning 
 
 head, 
 And grateful moisture greets his parching 
 
 lips, 
 A kind, sweet face bends over him in love, 
 And calms his achin<2: heart with words of 
 
 peace. 
 
 Another there is draining the last drop 
 In life's deep cup of mingled joy and grief 
 Slowly the sunset light fades in the west. 
 
 '^
 
 24 ^lonjurif Ui||Min||itk 
 
 Slowly life's liglit is quenclied in tlie dark 
 
 eye, 
 And shades of death enshroud the weary 
 
 sight. 
 The future is a dark, veiled mystery. 
 " Oh ! for one gleam of faith and hope ! " 
 
 he ciies. 
 As with a soft, celestial beauty clad. 
 The same fair face bends o'er the penitent. 
 His eager ear catches the whispered words 
 That tell of Him who died to save. A 
 
 smile 
 Of heavenly peace plays round the parted 
 
 lips,—
 
 The spirit goes to seek its home on 
 
 high. 
 
 She passes on, and oft a silent prayer 
 Calls down God's love upon her noble head, 
 And simple hearts in reverent gratitude 
 Caress her wavinor shadow as it falls 
 
 o 
 
 Upon their lowly beds. 
 
 Oh ! who can tell 
 The beauty, aye, e'en the sublimity, 
 Of such a spirit of devotedness, 
 And sacrifice of self, or estimate
 
 The power of sucli a life of earnest love ? 
 Tliere is true poetry in noble souls, 
 There is a music in a holy deed, 
 That, wafted up and on through endless 
 
 space, 
 Mingles at last with seraph minstrelsy. 
 
 And now the war ended, the battle done. 
 Peace waves again her white wings o'er the 
 
 land. 
 England may not have won from history 
 A crown of fame ; from records truer far 
 And nobler, — human hearts, she hath re- 
 ceived 
 
 K
 
 A glory that sliall never die, so long 
 As eyes sliall l)rigliten at the sight of acts 
 Of true 1)enevolence, or life-hloo;l thrill 
 As evidence of that srood faith in man, 
 That near approach to the divinity, — 
 The workings of tliat strange, mysterious 
 
 love. 
 That is all-powerful ; that never fails ; 
 That bears, believes, hoj^es and endures. 
 
 The name 
 Ol* FloT-ence Nightingale shall prove a spell 
 Of magic influence, — a quickening charm 
 
 m 
 
 7(1
 
 To move men's souls to liigli and lofty 
 aims ; 
 
 Shall touch the sacred spring of good with- 
 in; 
 
 Shall animate to gen'rous sacrifice, 
 
 And sound to hearts and homes with the 
 sweet tone 
 
 Of some familiar household word. 
 
 Woman ! 
 The bright example of her noble life, 
 Appeals to thee with earnest, thrilling 
 power.
 
 Thou hast tlie faith, tliou hast the holy 
 
 love. 
 Oh ! dream not an existence here away 
 In dim, illusive hope of unearned joy, 
 Mere yearnings after ideal excellence. 
 Deem not thou art too feeble now, since 
 
 one, 
 In form as frail as thine, has proved her 
 
 strength. 
 Think not a battle-field alone the scene 
 That waits thy sympathy, thy guardian 
 
 care ; 
 For life is one extended battle-strife, 
 And heroes truer far than ever won 
 
 fi^^'
 
 A yictoiy o'er foes on tented field, 
 
 Are struggling on in silent conflict now, 
 
 Witli all the ills of j3ain and poverty. 
 
 Be faithful, true to thy high destiny. 
 
 Go forth like her whose ma2:ic liorht has 
 shed 
 
 A flood of radiance o'er the earth, and 
 heal 
 
 The wounded heart, make bright the dar- 
 kened home, 
 
 And wake soft strains of touching melody 
 
 In souls else tuneless, broken notes of want 
 
 And misery.
 
 And Florence Nioflitinsrale ! 
 Thou harbinger of good to suffering man, 
 Thou gentle type of that deep faith and 
 
 love, 
 That is man's sacred, heavenly heritage, — 
 His glorious sjDirit of humanity, — 
 Earth's brightest honors cluster round thy 
 
 name, 
 Happy in sense of duty nobly done, 
 Kich in a nation's love and reverence, 
 May Heaven's choice blessings rest upon 
 
 thy head. 
 
 f,
 
 
 Hencefortli and forever thy fair name shall 
 
 be 
 Earth's Angel of Holiness, bright Charity. 
 Of all England's warblers, the sweetest and 
 
 best. 
 Thy carol of love shall forever be blest. 
 And songs of thy life from the music of 
 
 Time, 
 Awaken responsive an echo sublime.