Apheila, and other poems

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http://www.archive.org/details/apheilaotherpoemOOplea
A P H E I LA;
AND OTHER
POEMS
MISS JULIA PLEASANT!^ AKD THOMAS BIBB BBADLSY.
NEW YORK
:
CHARLES SCRIBNER,
1854.
Entered according to Act of Coogress in the year 1853, by
CHAELES SCRIBNEIl,
m the Clerli's Office of t&e Distnct Court of the United States for the
Souhem District of New York.
tobitt's COMBIKATIOK-TTPE,
181 WilHam-st.
Ft
-^ 1 -fie
®0 tte Pernor^ •
WE DEDICATE OUR POEMS,
CONTENTS.
Pagb
Proem By T. B. Bradley 13
To the Reader Miss Julia Pleasants 15
Apheila By T. B. Bradley 18
The Evil Days Miss Julia Pleasants 32
Twilight's Dream do. 34
The Evening Star By T. B. Bradley 39
Execution of Andre . do. 46
An Ea le's Plume Miss Julia Pleasants 55
A Sister's Reverie By T. B. Bradley 58
Pm True to Thee Miss JuHa Pleasants 62
VI. ' N T E N T S .
Page
To a Dove By T. B. Bradley 64
Sycamore Tree Miss Juha Pleasants 68
Festive Hall . do. 75
I Never Have Met Thee do. 79
Idylheimar do. 82
Daniel Webster do. 86
To One on Earth By T. B. Bradley 90
Lady of Ayr . do. 98
I Eemember Her Well Miss Julia Pleasants 102
I'll Hasten to Thee, Love By T. B. Bradley 104
Then Linger thou Zephyr do. 106
The Clouds on the Mountain do. 108
We Met to Part Forever Miss Julia Pleasants 110
Impromptu Prophetic . do. _ 113
Song'of lo . By T. B. Bradley 115
The Melancholy Hour . do. 120
The Lost Miss Julia Pleasants 128
To a Beloved Poet By T. B. Bradley 132
Addie do. 136
The Vanished Race . Miss Juha Pleasants 139
I Love no Mo do. 143
CONTENTS vn.
Page
Memorial to Mrs. Ann Bibb , Miss Julia Pleasants 147
Hush My Heart do. 150
The Fountain and the Tree , By T. B. Bradley 153
The Persian Bride Miss Juha Pleasants 159
In the Bower . ByT. B. Bradley 166
I Love but Thee Miss Juha Pleasants 168
I'm Lonehest in a Crowd do. 172
The Beautiful . do. 174
To my Lyre . do. 176
Zion . do. 179
Lines on Laying a Comer-Stoiae do. 181
To a Bird do. 184
Philippi do. 187
A Star-light Chaunt . do. 191
The Maiden's Choice .
*
do. 195
The Dead Minstrel do. 202
I Love Thee . do. 213
Powers' Greek Slave . do. 208
Ponce De Leon's Dream . ByT B. Bradley 218
The Two Scenes do. 243
My Brother . do. 247
/
viii. CONTENTS.
Page
The Three Pilgrims Miss Julia Pleasants 251
To One Beautifu^ Qo. 257
A Day ao. 261
The Propnecy i, ao. 264
A Song ao. 268
ThisWorla . do. 270
PEOEM.
In our own lovely clime, where orange bowers
Luxurious bloom to woo the wanton air,
Sweet Poesy forever young and fair
With unlooped tresses roams. She waves her wand
Where monarch trees with bending boughs await,
And bursting buds attest her gentle touch.
Where o'er the rugged rocks the cataract roars
All beautiful she bends her airy form,
And lo 1 the rainbow curves to greet her there.
Oh 1 well she loves our dewy summer morns
2 (13)
14 PROEM. •
That like Diana's maids sport on the hills,
Our noons that soft voluptuous matrons sleep,
Our fair-haired eves that dream delicious dreams,
As brides grown pensive o'er their cups ofjoy
While silk-fringed lashes o'er their blue orbs drooped,
While speed the golden hours. Her step imprints
Our verdant vales, and flowers of brightest hue
Do blossom where she treads. Her voice attunes
Each little rill that murmurs as it glides,
All fountains gushing in perpetual joy.
All rivers gleaming in our primal w^oods.
With unwreathed lyres together we have roamed
Where in our silent groves the goddess reigns,
Where in bur. forest-aisles her altars glow,
And kneeling there our earnest vows have said.
Our grateful incense poured, and sang what songs
Our sad hearts bade us sing.
TO THE EEADEE.
GrvE us thy heart, awhile, not thou
With the mirthful lip and the joyous brow
;
There are no sweet sounds for the glad and free
In the solemn surge of the storm-swept sea,
And we seek not to win a wand'ring glance
From the rose-hued hall and the choral dance,
"Where the red wine flows, and the bright lamps gleam
j
Go give thy moments to Pleasure's dream.
For we have not wreathed the poet's shell,
For the idler steeped in her lotus-spell.
(15)
16 TO THE READER.
But give us thy heart—thou lonely one,
Who hath watched all night for the tardy sun
;
Who hath showered out tears, and poured out prayer
For the bright-winged joy that was flying there
;
While the spirit shrivelled to sorrow's touch
At the starless post by the suffering couch ;
Where the lip grew chill, and the breath grew faint
In the quivering throat of a dying saint.
Give us thy heart—thou mourner pale,
Whose treasures sleep in the silent vale
;
Whose soul rolls down through the shades of Time,
Like a sombre stream with a leaden chime
;
While the whispering hopes on its banks are hushed,
Like a waste of reeds th at the storm hath crushed.
Thou who hast conn'd in the morn of life
Its noonday lesson of grief and strife.
Who hast early marched with a martyr's smile,
To the fagot-heap of a funeral pile,
Where thy blue-eyed Youth in its golden hair
In a fearful flame rose wildly there.
Thou who hast turned in an ill-starred hour
From the rose festoons of the trysting bower,
With thy brow in a bath of bitterest brine,
And thy spirit sad as the stbrm-lafehe'd pine
:
TO THE READER. 17
And learned for a life time the sickening spell,
That harrowed the soul in that wild farewell,
When they faded away in a sorrowful mist
—
The eyes you had loved, and the lips you had kissed
!
Thou who hast seen on a desolate night
—
The earth grow dark, and the grave grow bright
;
"Whose eyelids have drooped as the phantoms grim
'That trooped from the shades of the future dim
Came rustling around thee their long dark plumeS;,
And blackening thy soul with midnight glooms.
Thou who hast wept for the tender and young,
Whose bosoms to thine in their anguish clung,
And hast struggled to play a fostering part
When thine own was an orphan's broken heart
!
Whoever thou art that hast suflfered and wept
When the revel rung, and the peaceful slept,
On whatever shore—by whatever stream.
The fate of a friend, or the death of a dream.
Come give us thy heart, and blame not the lyre
If tear-drops of sorrow have faded its fire.
APHEILA.
And because this Demon always removes joy, and begets
gloom, and because he doth cast shadows over things fair and
beautiful, I will now bestow upon him a name that shall be for
the days to come, and the name shall be Apheila—destroyer. ,^
FceUx, Mcmk of Croyland.
Neath a lordly oak tree's shadow, in a velvet, verdant
meadow.
In the verdant month of April, blue-eyed April soft and
fair,
Where two silvery brooks did glisten, I was pausing still
to listen
To the murmuring of leaflets, making music in the
air,
To the words which Zephyr whispered to the wild flowers
blushing there,
And that morn I smiled at care.
(18)
APHEILA. 19
Every pulse with pleasure thrilling, all my soul with
rapture filling,
Then I said, that balmy April—" Lo ! my life is full of x
glee I
And my future shall be cheery, not a single moment
dreary,
Joyous sunshine without shadow round myfootsteps e'er
shall be,
And each gay, capricious moment yield its blessing ere
it flee
!
Lo ! tha earth is brio-ht for me !"
But Apheila came beside me, and he came there to de-ride
me, ;
From that tideless, torpid ocean in the cursed Demon
-
land,
Where, on pinions wan and wailing, dusky robes behind
them traihng,
Float forever phantom figures, floating alway from the
strand !
Ghastly vapors rose about me, sickly mists on either
hand,
When Apheila waved his wand.
20 APHEILA.
Slowly o'er the verdant meadow rolled the Demon's lurid
shadow,
With a sober, solemn motion, like a corpse upon the
sea
;
As it rolled, the wild flowers quivered, and their shrink-ing
petals shivered,
And the falling leaflets rustled as they withered from the
tree.
And, quite palsied with my terror, I did sink upon my
knee,
"When this shadow covered me.
All my soul with anguish swelling, and my heart its hor-ror
knelling,
By ^loud ringings in my bosom, as a brazen bell may
ring,
Much I feared that dismal morning that Apheila was
my king
—
That my future should be dreary, not a single moment
cheery.
That dark shadows, lurid shadows, shadows from the
Demon's wing,
Eound my pathway e'er should cling !
APHEILA. 21
In an arbor sylvan, Ehady, made for wooing gentle
lady,
Where the rarest roses cluster, growing up in queenly
luster,
"Where the Venus-nurtured myrtle blooms and blossoms
in its pride
—
In the twilight I was sitting, with a maiden by my
side,
"While the hours on golden sandals did. like a bright.
eyed Houris glide,
With Alvora by my side.
Sweet Alvora ! dear Alvora ! who saw her did adore
her !
Darkest eyes, whose silken lashes softly veiled their
burning beams,
Haven curls about her playing, o'er her swelling bosom
straying,
Lips with nectar ever flowing, tender cheek with blushes
glowing
—
Lovelier angel waves her tresses not in mortal's blissful
dreams,
Not by Heaven's eternal streams !
22 APHEILA.
In the arbor I was seated, knowing not how moments
fleeted,
With Alvora's lustrous glances piercing to my spirit's
core,
When the darkness came a-wooing,like an ardent bride-groom
suing,
And the crimson-tinted twilight to his astral palace
bore,
While the matron moon approving did her brightest
beamings pour,
And the palace glided o'er.
Soon the twinkling Pleiades shining through the lattice
vine-entwining,
With their liquid streams of beauty bade a hopeful fancy
rise
—
Por the radiant sisters seven, stars serenest in the
heaven.
Shone as seven angel faces, with their blessed angel
eyes,
On the maiden and her lover, looking from the kindly
ekies,
On us smiling from the skies I
APHEILA. 23
Every pulse with pleasure thrilling, all my soul with
rapture filling
—
" My Alvora " then I murmured, " press thy loving-heart
to mine I
Shade my cheek with raven tresses, lavish on me warm
caresses.
And thy arms so full and glowing round my throbbing
bosom twine,
And thy lips, with nectar flowing, seal them closer unto
niine,
Till li^sip a draught divine !
" For the future shall be cheery, not a single moment
dreary
;
Lo ! the angels they have spoken, in the sky they hang
a token
Of the blessings thick and thronging which the future
hath in store ;
In a pathway strewn with roses, which the soft moon
silvers o'er,
Joy before us lightly tripping, like a tuneful trouba-dour,
We will wander evermore !"
24 APHEILA.
But Apheila came beside us, and he came thereto de-ride
us,
From that tideless, torpid ocean, with its single surfless
shore,
"Where, on pinions wan and wailing, dusky robes be-hind
them trailing,
Ploat forever phantom figures, floating alway from the
shore I
And with Demon's noiseless footstep he did move within
the door,
"With his shadow cast before !
Then the queenly roses quivered, and the trembling lat-tice
shivered,
Till its vines enwreathing withered, dropping crispate
on the floor,
And the radiant sisters seven, etars serenest in the
heaven,
Veiled their seven angel faces, and their shrouds of
sable wore,
"When the Demon's dismal shadow all the arbor covered
o'er.
All the arbor darkened o'er !
APHEILA. 25
In this darkness so appalling, then I heard the footsteps
falling
Of a maiden moving slowly, sadly to the arbor
door
—
Of Alvora! dear_^Alvora I passing through the arbor
door.
And an echo full of sorrow did its lonely cadence
borrow
From her footsteps sounding hollow, as she vanished
from the door.
And I saw her—nevermore
!
All my soul with anguish swelling, and my heart its
horror knelling,
By loud ringings in my bosom, as a brazen^bell may
ring.
Much I feared that awful moment that Apheila was my
king-
That my future should be dreary, not a single moment
cheery,
That dark shadows, lurid shadows, shadows from the
Demon's wing.
Round my pathway e'er should cling ! f
26 APHEILA.
In a temple vast and olden, whose wide portals, grand
and golden,
Always open have been gleaming from the distant days
of yore,
With a spirit full of feeling, strange emotions o'er me
stealing.
In the midnight, still and solemn, I was standing on the
floor,
"Where an incense-burning censer, of a royal purple
ore,
Purple beamings did outpour.
Soon I saw the censer swinging, in a circle slowly
swinging,
And I heard the lonely tinkle of a single silver
bell
;
When the silence thus was broken by this curious silver
token.
Stirring strains of martial mnsic, like the stormy ocean's
swell.
From the floor unto the ceiling, through the olden tem-ple
pealing.
On my ravished hearing fell.
APHEILA. 27
But its bolder notes subsided, in such happy measure
glided,
That all care did flee my bosom as the darkness flees
the day
;
Then this measure glided slowly to a cadence soft and
holy,
Till, in dying notes canorous, in a pean's saintly
chorus,
To the temple's deep cavazion this strange music rolled
away
—
"With sweet echoes rolled away !
Then the censer ceased its swinging, in a circle no
more swinging,
And the lonely, solemn tinkle of the bell I heard once
more;
When the silence thus was broken by this distant curi-ous
token,
Stately trains behind them flowing, Jail with silk and
silver glowing.
Lordly figures saw I marching through the open golden
door.
And the lordHest marched before.
28 APHEILA.
Through the portals open golden of the temple vagt
and olden,
Down the nave did move each figure with a footstep
slow and grand,
"With his train behind him flowing, all with silk and
silver glowing,
"With the censer o'er him beaming, on his regal fore-head
beaming,
As a hero great in story, as a monarch crowned in
Seemed each figure in the band
!
All my soul with rapture filling, with an eager rapture
thrilling,
Then I said, that joyous moment—" In this temple let
me dwell,
While, in legions closely crowded, ghostly centuries
enshrouded,
By their sad sepulchral dirges of their solemn transit
telll
With these heroes great in story, with these monarchs
prowned in glory,
Made immortal let me dwell 1"
APHEILA, 29
But Apheila came beside me, and he came there to
deride me,
From that tideless, torpid ocean, with its single surfless
shore,
And his ebon pinions folden brushed the portals open
golden,
Of the temple vast and olden, when he moved within
the door,
When with Demon's noiseless footstep he did move
within the door,
With his shadow cast before I
And the waning censer shivered when this shadow o'er
it quivered,
When this shadow, upward stealing, rolled along the
vaulted ceiling,
With a sober solemn motion, like a corpse upon the
sea,
Till with pall of sable covered all the temple seemed
to be,
And quite palsied with my terror I did sink upon my
knee,
With this darkness shrouding me !
30 APHEILA.
Then, my heart with anguish beating, I did hear the
steps retreating
Of the lordly figures moving to the open golden
door,
And an echo full of sorrow, did its lonely cadence
borrow
From their footsteps sounding hollow, as they passed
from out the door !
And my bosom with that echo which the temple floated
o'er
Shall be thrillinof—evermore !
By this soul where memory weeping mournful vigil e'er
is keeping,
By this heart despair hath broken, by full many a
weary token
—
Since that midnight I do know it, that Apheila is my
king I
That my future must be dreary, not a single moment
cheery,
That dark shadows, lurid shadows, shadows from the
Demon's wing,
Bound my pathway e'er must cling !
APHEILA. 31
By this current strangely flowing, not one ripple ever
knowing,
By these sails of somber fashion, w^hich a zephyr never
fanned,
By this darkness so appalling, like a curtain round me
falling
—
Well I know that I am moving to the distant Demon-land,
In a vessel launched by Demons, by a mortal never
planned,
To the cursed Demon-land !
And Alpheila sits beside me, and each day he doth
deride me,
As we near that tideless ocean, with its sins^le surfless
shore,
"Where, on pinions wan and wailing, dusky robes] be-hind
them trailing,
Float forever phantom figures, singing dirges ever-more
!
When my vessel skims that ocean, with its singed and
surfless shore,
It shall leave it—nevermore !
THE EVIL DAYS.
Alas ! the evil days have now drawn nigh,
The evil days that bring no joys with them ;
"With drooping heads they wander slowly by,
Sad-hearted kings without a diadem.
The silver lute is silent in my heart,
The golden waters from its fountain gone
;
The bright wing'd birds of Paradise depart,
And leave its garden desolate and lone.
(32)
THE EVIL DAYS. 33
The sandal-tree lies leafless on the plain,
The crystal dew has fleeted from the rose,
The bulbul links no more his music-chain,
And slow and sad the languid zephyr flows.
Alas ! the evil days have now drawn nigh.
When like a royal mourner clad in weeds,
Adown the crape-hung arches of the sky
His funeral march the day-god slowly leads.
How deep the gloom that shrouds my devious way,
How cold the winds that chill me where I roami
How dark the waste that widens as I stray,
The evil days, the evil days, have come I
TWILIGHT'S DEEAM.
When the golden day of childhood,
As an arrow, fleeted by
;
And when Youth, like tender twilight,
Hung around my rosy sky,
Then there came a radiant vision
—
Soft and fair it came to me,
Like a star in silver sandals,
Dancing on a dreaming sea.
Had that vision had a portrait.
It had worn the eyes of blue.
And the gold-hair of an angel,
' With her pearly pinions too
;
(34)
twilight's dream. 35
For 'twas heavenly in its beauty,
And it quickly sped away
Ere the timid stars of promise
Clustered round its shining way.
It fled—but while it lingered,
I was happy for an hour,
As the tiny winged empress
Of the honey-suckle bower
;
If at times there rushed a sadness
Prom my spirit to my brow.
It was not the settled sorrow,
That is imaged on it now.
For my heart was light and thoughtless,
"When that beauteous vision came
;
And my life was like a picture.
Hung within a golden frame.
Though 'twas purpling into twilight.
On its fairy mountains lay
All the bright and blessed sunshine,
That had crowned the dying day
:
36 twilight's dream.
And the tender tear, that sometimes,
To my dreaming eye, would start,
And the pensive shade, that floated
To my features from my heart
:
They were but the fleeting cloudlets
On the crystal sky of noon.
Or the shadows from the moonlight,
On the velvet sward of June.
Yes, I knelt, a thoughtless wanderer,
For a moment by a shore.
With a Fairy Land behind me,
And a Fairy Sea before
;
While a barque, whose rainbow banners
Through the twilight fluttered free.
And a single shining planet
Seemed to woo me o'er the sea.
But that lovely fancy left me.
And it left my heart a wreck.
With the winds and waters wrestHng,
On the torn dismantled deck.
twilight's dream. 37
Never more across the billows,
Like a birdling, may it glide,
And its gold dust and its jewels
Strew the waters far and wide.
For it tossed upon the ocean,
When the night of life grew dark,
And the talons of the tempest
Tore the plumage of my barque :
And when griefs were strong and countless
Then were friendships faint and few,
And my dream of starry beauty
In the darkness vanished too.
Like a ship with spices laden,
Strewing perfumes on the gales.
Sweeping past a lonely island,
"With the sunshine on her sails
—
Like a bird, on glancing pinions,
Bearing carols, wild and gay
Through the dim and voiceless distance,
Lo it fleetly sped away.
3
38 twilight's dream.
But my clinging memories clasp it,
As a wreath of summer vines,
With their pale neglected flowers,
P . Eound a broken pillar twines.
Through my spirit still 'tis floating,
Like a half remembered tune.
Or a faded rainbow swinging
Eound a cold and misty moon
:
Yes, though clouds, in thick battalions,
;. Stand around the starless skies,
And a world of solid darkness
On my sorrowing spirit lies.
Oft that twilight dream of raptures
"Wanders softly back to me,
Like a star in silver sandals,
Dancing on a dreaming sea.
THE EVENINa STAE.
Within this narrow church-yard I did roam
From where the village lights appal my gaze
To kneel and weep beside this new-made grave,
To bow my head in agony and clasp
My solemn pulses o'er my brother's dust,
And bid them beat sad requiem for his loss.
"With weary footstep hither I did come
To note the mantling ivy twine its wreath
Around my father's mouldering tomb, to hear
The lone wind sing its hollow dirge, and lift
(39)
40 THE EVENING STAR.
Unto the moon despair's wan face. To hold
Communion with the dead I love, alone
And undisturbed to lean my drooping head
Against this sepulchre and count my griefs
I wandered here. And I did think to see
The emblem-phantom of my woes start up
From his fit crouching-place behind this tomb,
And lay his skeleton hand upon my breast,
And palsy me with one sole look. But whence
Hath he removed his visage lank ? For him
Is not this rank grass most congenial lair
To coil his uncouth length at ease, and wait
To hear his victim sighing as he comes ?
Yet lo ! how stillness broods, and, awed to peace,
I turn my gaze unto the midnight skies.
Ah ! I do see thee now, blest evening-star,
Thou pure orb blushing in thy loveliness,
And trembling like an angel's heart, when God
Doth praise for some especial mission done.
This is thy own hour, and my troubled soul
From wild and bitter thoughts to holy rest
Is wooed and won by thy serenity.
Thou pausest in the firmament to call
To me, and at thy voice the swelling waves,
That bear my spirit's bark to woe's dark gulf,
THE EVENING STAR. 41
Are still and stormless as a mountain lake ;
And the rent sails are glad, and hoist their shreds,
Their soiled and sorry shreds, to feel the breeze
That blows from the celestial isles.
Bright one,
Thou dost unloose from gems thy golden hair,
And wavest it a signal of thy love.
Prom thy pearl arms the bracelet's shining bands
Thou dost unclasp, and swing'st them in the skies
A token of thy sympathy. How can
I see thy gentle smiles rejoice the heavens,
And not rebuke the demon of unrest
"Who howls within the cavern of my soul ?
At thy soft touch, upon my pallid brow
The drops of grief cling motionless no more.
But melt their coldness and are gone, and lo !
The funeral crape, that muffled all the beats
Of my sad heart, is ta'en away, and hope
Speeds on her happy throbs within my veins.
Thou lookest on the pall above my head.
And see ! the shroud becomes a myrtle-tree,
And as I pluck the blossoms from its boughs
To see its young leaves mottled with thy beams
I feel a new delight, and seem a child.
42 THE EVENING STAR.
My heart is thrilled with awe whene'er I think
In this same hour in years now dead thy kiss
Fell warm upon the Savior's brow. How oft
He lay 'neath solemn skies beside some stream
That tripped with dancing feet about the base
Of silent Olivet, and wept his tears !
The reverent wind then breathed its lowest sigh,
And thou, with golden girdle on thy waist,
Poised on the distant mountain-top, didst bow
In adoration of thy God. Henceforth,
Thou pious pilgrim I will turn to thee
Prom all that starry host that circling roll
In joyful orbits round the Father's throne
To pay my nightly vows. Henceforth when grief
My heart like lightning tears, and I do bend
In agony, and tottering sway in woe,
Tho' gasping for my breath I'll come to thee
To quell the tempest of my soul. "Whene'er
The world seems rude, and friends in lieu of hands
Point daggers to my breast, and Hope lays down
The sceptre from her grasp, untwines the wreath
Prom her fair front, and chattering, idiot-hke,
Dies 'neath the iron heel of grim despair,
Who, happy undertaker, robes her form
In cerements for the grave, a calm cold corse,
Oh ! then thou placid maid, the crystal doors
THE EVENING STAR. 43
Of thy bright palace ope, and welcome me
A suitor on thy threshold hnmbly bent,
And clasp me shivering to thy warm embrace.
At thy command my spirit, that erewhile
Was wont to roam in forests by the night
Or follow the wild sea-gull in its flight
Alone and wailing o'er the sea, no more
Will voyage in her gloom. Guided by thee
Her pinions will be spread for radiant isles
That gemx the baldric on old Neptune's breast,
Where flowers are budding smiles, and blocks of ice,
Lured from the frozen north, their coldness lose,
And wooers then dissolve in tears for joy.
And press their tremulous kisses on the shore.
Thou lovely star, this night thou art to me
A Cadmus in the firmament, and I,
Pond pupil, learn from thee hope's alphabet.
With thee, until the garments of the morn
Do flutter in the eastern gate, I could,
In thy own language hold commune ; but thou
Must on to teach thy gentle syllables
To others grieving as to me. Yet ere
Thou fadest from my sight, oh ! hear my prayer.
44 THE EVENING STAR.
In thy still course thoa wilt see much of woe
—
Sad hearts their sad sighs pouring on the air,
Sweet lips compressed in silent suffering-
Thin hands clasped painfully upon their breasts,
And drooping lashes dry in hopelessness.
Comfort thou such as thou dost comfort me,
And clothe them with the mantle of thy love !
The orphan weeping in his scanty bed
"Where never mother kneeled to bless her boy,
Will wipe his tears, and to his window crawl
To note thy sparkling glance of sympathy.
Thou wilt behold the ambitious man, what hour
He bows his lordly head for honor's wrath,
Smitten by disappointment's stalwart arm
A moment reel upon the ground, then forth
To stagger out from gaze of prosperous men,
And sitting solitary 'neath the oak
Writhe sore to feel the sharpened arrow's point
Pierce to his bosom's core. Beam thou on him,
And soothe the coming madness of his soul.
The maiden by her casement leaning low
Will hasten to the nightingale's soft dirge
That all night long sings sadly to the moon,
And tears will dim her gentle orbs that love
THE EVENING STAR. 45
"Who bore her flowers did hide in them a stinff.
Wilt sweetly speak to her, and cease the pang
That pales the crimson of her velvet cheek,
And pares the roundness of her tapering limbs ?
How many, many more the old, the young,
The grave, the gay, the proud, the poor of earth,
Have need of thee to cheer their lonely way
Where lies it in the wilderness of gloom ?
Oh ! pause and give to all who pray for aid
One ray to light the darkness of the road.
And teach them God dwells in his moon-lit skies.
THE EXECUTION OF ANDEE.
He lay within his prison-house alone and desolate,
Yet in his breast his heart beat calm, undaunted by
his fate.
No sunshine sought his dreary cell to bless him with
its light,
No rainbow arched his future sky to cheer him with
its sight.
To kiss his cheek, to cool his brow, to whisper soft of
home,
(46)
THE EXECUTION OF ANDEE. 47
From Albion's isle far o'er the waves no zephyr fleet
had come.
For him no message from his friends the rolling ocean
bore,
But on her gentle errand sped one whom all men adore.
A goddess, she of queenly mein, who rules a broad
domain,
And radiant night and darkness are the handmaids of
her train.
To prince's throne or humble cot, her mission is of love,
And at her touch stout oaken doors on noiseless hinges
move. -^
To stay her step, or check her course proud tyrants
seek in vain
;
At locks and bars and duno:eon bolts, she lauo-hs in
sheer disdain.
Not steel-clad legions in their might, arrayed in pha =
lanx deep.
Can bind a single fetter on the airy foot of sleep !
As heaps of snow on Alpine heights their stainless
mounds dissolve,
"When bright the day-king's burnished wheels through
glowing skies revolve
;
48 THE EXECUTION OF ANDKE.
As peaks of ice on Norway hill, upheaving bleak and tall,
Before his chariot rolling fast like slaves obedient fall
;
So sink to rest the eager hosts, in armor on the plain,
Awaiting but the blush of morn to wield their blades
again,
When from her starry palace borne upon her golden car
The soft-eyed goddess rides in state and rules the field
of war.
Full oft she roams without her train, from eve till dewy
morn.
In simple guise, with footsteps free, on angel purpose
borne.
Full oft a lily white doth grace her curls of raven hair
"Whose petals full of odors perfume the wooing air.
The orphan 'mid her gushing tears behold this lovely
flower.
And all her woes in blissful dreams are banished for
the hour
;
While weary king on his velvet couch, in purple cham-bers
laid.
In vain essays with royal bribes to win the fairy maid.
This goddess waved her golden wand by Andre's
darkened cell.
THE EXECUTION OF ANDKE. 49
And open flew his dungeon-door as moved by magic
spell.
He saw the luster of her curls, the smile upon her face,
And in her orbs of melting blue fond mercy's glance
could trace.
In slumbers long, and still, and soft, his pensive eyelids
close.
And dreams of youth, and home, and love, his raptured
spirit knows.
On his hard couch a prisoner he breathed as calm and
low
As on a bank of violets when the summer breezes blow
!
But he heard sounds of music, and cannon's steady roar,
Ahd he knew the gleam of silken flags wide armies
floating o'er.
Then seemed his cell a battle-field, no more his spirit's
home.
For every blast of the bugle said, " come to the battle
come !"
And he fought a stalwart warrior by hero Harold's side,
And saw the blood from the Norman's heart gush
out in crimson tide
;
50 THE EXECUTION OF ANDKE.
And pressed with the Saxon's fiercest tones 'mid rushing
ranks of war,
"Where the bold Bastard's buoyant plume blazed like a
fiery star
!
Then with Queen Margaret's host he stood and dealt
his sweeping blows
For merry England, for St. George, and for the dear
red rose.
Then on the ravaged plains of France he heard his
armor ring,
And joined the shouts of the island men, " God bless
our noble King !"
With him to victor's music marched, o'er battered city
walls,
And quaffed French wine with British knights in
proudest palace halls.
And his breast heaved with rapture, his cheek flushed
up with pride,
To see o'er the trailing oriflamme old Albion's banner
ride.
But twilight breeze blew softly his swelling bosom o'er,
And soothed his restless spirit till it dreamed of wars
no more.
THE EXECUTION OF ANDRE. 51
Again the valley of his youth the glass of vision shows
,
Where moonlight kissed the leafy boughs, and winds
did woo the rose.
Bright stars were shining soft and still, and waters
murmured low.
He clasped the waist of the gentle girl he loved long
years ago.
Her eyes were pure and deep and dear like eyes of the
constant dove,
And he twined her curls of rippling gold, till thrilled his
heart with love.
Through all the night till maiden morn wove garlands
• in the east,
The prisoner's spirit banqueted upon its fairy feast.
When struggled through the iron bars the morning's
ruddy beams,
He roused him up from his last sleep, and woke from
his last dream.
He heard the soldier's sounding tramp, and a single
cannon boom.
And by the beat of the muffled drum he knew his hour
of doom.
52 THE EXECUTION OF ANDKE.
In silence then he knelt him down and bowed himself
in prayer,
That God would give him strength that day the shame-ful
death to bear.
Then steel-clad men thro' the dungeon door moved
slow in martial file,
And every man gazed on the floor, and not a man did
smile.
When their nodding plumes and gleaming arms flashed
full on Andre's sight,
One moment sorrow dimmed his eye, and his whole
face grew white.
Could but a levin bolt from heaven his anguished
frame destroy.
Its rage to him were rapture, and his doom how full of
joy 5
For Death 'mid the ranks of soldiers then a dismal
shape had ta'en,
And he coiled the hangman's curling rope, and clanked
the hangman's chain.
THE EXECUTION OF ANDRE. ^^
The captive from his prison his guards in silence bore,
And he walked upon the scaffold as on his native shore.
He looked toward his own loved isle, and saw his
mother's form ;
He heard her sobs far o'er the sea, and felt her tear-drops
wanxi,
The gibbet ! ah, the gibbet ! should the dangling noose
be flung
Around that neck where sisters fond with dear caress
had hung
!
Should shame upon that lordly brow her stamp of tor-ture
place.
Where affection's kiss had lingered and honor left its
trace !
But morning breezes lifted up his curls of flowing hair,
He gazed upon the calm blue sky, for God was smiling
there !
And a glory lit his forehead, and brightly beamed his
eye;
Let cowards wince at pangs of death, but brave men
bravely die !
54 THE EXECUTION OF ANDRE.
When the hangman stood by the prisoner's side all
heart were dumb and still,
But sad bells rang in every breast when the hangman
worked his will,
Then calmly on the dead man's face, the mocking
sunbeams shone,
And funeral guns the signal fired that the deed of death
was done.
LINES
ON EECEIVING AN EAGLE'S PLUME.
An eagle's plume ! an eagle's plume
!
How bravely hath it battled back
The rolling clouds, the tempest's gloom,
And swept the sun's meridian track.
A thing of air, it proudly spurned
The earth-born storm, the levin's glare.
And like a thought, forever turned,
In starward triumph, through the air.
(55)
56 AN eagle's plume.
An eagle's plume ! in wheeling flight,
Swift as a clarion's note it rose
From some untrodden mountain height,
Of purple mists and shining snows.
And far across the desert sky,
It wnnnowed plains of azure dearth.
And bore the camel-bird on high,
A herald from the lowly earth.
An eagle's plume ! the skies grew dark.
But o'er the sea it fleetly sped.
The sea where many a gallant barque,
Before the driving tempest, fled.
And through the zenith, blue and gold.
It soared above the sulphurous cloud,
While fast the rushing w^aters rolled.
O'er stem and stern and swelling shroud.
An eagle's plume ! an eagle's plume !
It burst through floods of fiery rain,
"When culverin's crash and cannon's boom
Broke madly o'er the battle-plain
:
A starry standard floated there
—
Above its folds, it quivering hung,
And loudly on the leaden air
The deafning shout of—" "Victory" rung.
AN eagle's plume. 57
An eagle plume, from Freedom's wing
—
It skirts the hills of Northern Maine,
And bathes in every golden spring,
On California's mountain chain.
It rises, like a glorious star,
"Where wild Atlantic surges roar,
And flies, in swooping circles, far
Along the lone Pacific shore.
An eagle's plume ! would that my soul
Might burst as chainless and as free.
Above the stormy clouds, that roll
Across this life's tempestuous sea.
And oh ! when Life's dark goal is won.
That it might spurn the vanquished tomb,
And soar beyond the flaming sun
An eagle's plume ! an eagle's plume
!
A SISTEE'S EEYEEIE.
Sad vesper bells ! how sweet your chimes,
Thrilling my soul like poet's rhymes
Sung low at tranquil even.
The light of childhood round rae plays,
And memory muses o'er the days
When earth seemed nearer heaven.
In younger years I often strayed
"Where silver streams wreathed many a braid,
And there subdued and still I stayed
(58)
A SISTER S REVERIE. 59
To hear their waters sighing
;
I would the sounds ray spirit craves,
The dulcet sounds of rippling waves,
May float to me when dying.
E'en now I hear a gentle tone,
So soft, so clear, 'tis music's own,
It stills my panting bosom
!
My sister's voice ! I've heard it ring
In greenwood bowers when rosy spring
"With kisses oped the blossom.
Then ere mild evening's rays were flown,
Ere stars were o'er the blue arch strewn,
How gay we culled young buds unblown
To see them bloom the morrow
!
Then Joy, the silver-cinctured maid,
With lovely eyes our^hearts betrayed,
And smiled away each sorrow.
And when the kingly crest of morn
Upon his dappled courser borne
Shone o'er the dark dim mountains,
60 A sister's reverie.
Like glad sunshine we sought for flowers,
And lowest laughter from our bowers
Plowed like the flow of fountains.
Until the broad blue blaze of noon,
Pond hours that fleeted all too soon
Softly glided as a tune
Heard w^hen the moonbeams glimmer.
Alas ! we were too young to know
That fairest cheeks soon lose their glow,
That brightest eyes grow dimmer.
And when the summer's tardy hours
Brought rolling clouds like moving towers,
And swift, strong winds and slanting showers,
And purple rainbows arching,
"While falling drops soft echoes gave,
"We read old tales of heroes brave
To fields of valor marching.
How often o'er the lake we sailed,
Ere twilight's varied colors paled,
The still blue waters dyeing
!
A sister's reverie. 61
That lucid lake how clear it seemed,
"With undimm'd depths where white shells gleamed
Like pearls in beauty vying 1
My sister's face ! I see it now,
As when she stooped low o'er the bow.
Her joyous eyes, her snowy brow,
Her unlooped tresses flowing
!
When strewn with lilies our fair boat
Slow o'er the crystal wave did float
"With kindly zephyrs blowing.
Blest morns, bright noons, sweet evening hours,
And boat all garlanded with flowers,
Again I'll see them never !
All, all are gone ; my sister sleeps,
Death her dark-fringed eyelids keeps, x
Closed o'er her orbs forever
!
Ah ! soon his touch will heal my breast
Of sorrows, sighs, and sad unrest
;
And then in funeral garments drest
I'll cross the deep, cold river.
But oh ! upon the other side
I know that radiant angels glide.
And golden sunbeams quiver.
4
I'M TEUE TO THEE.
Though sometimes in my maddened mood,
I seem to be untrue to thee,
The silent spell of solitude
Restores my fetters back to me.
If when it wanders through the world,
My spirit waves her broken wing,
Back to its cell, with plumage furled.
It trails, a sad and piteous thing.
Though often seems to be forgot
The hopes, which w^ere so dear to me,
Their clinging memories leave me not
—
I'm true to thee, I'm true to thee.
(62)
I M TRUE TO THEE. 63
Though sometimes, in the festive throng,
I catch a smile from happier hearts,
Swift with the reign of mirth and song,
The transient glow ofjoy departs.
Believe me, like some temple lone,
Which slowly trembles to decay,
Yet on whose sacred altar stone.
One faithful taper sheds her ray,
Lo, so her light, does Memory cast,
And I, a constant devotee,
Still w^ander through that ruined Past
—
I'm true to thee, I'm true to thee.
TO A DOVE.
Thou timid bird, dost thou my chamber seek
To free thee from the unrelenting hawk,
With fiery glance intent upon thy heart,
And talons bent to inflict his deadly wound ?
Since young Aurora from her nightly couch,
Sprang blushing, on his pinions fast and fierce,
Thy cruel foe has followed thee in flight.
What restless glare the fear of death has roused
Within thy mild meek eyes, that in the dale
Were wont to turn stedfast with patient love
(64)
TO A DOVE. 65
Upon thy constant mate ? Now rest thee, dove,
Thou art rescued. The red blood from thy veins
Shall never stain his beak nor thy torn limbs
Appease the rage of thy fleet enemy.
And yet it pleases me to note thy wings
All tremulous in restless unison
With rapid feats of thy affrighted heart
;
For as the twihght's ling'ring shadows fall
They move my soul to tenderness, and I
In lieu of ladylove—to kiss her brow,
And twine affection's arm around her waist,
And view my image in her deep dark eye,
—
With fond caress and soothing words of peace
Would comfort thee.
V
Like thee, I too have fled
With panting breast and weary nerves from foes
Rapacious and remorseless. Raven Care,
On sweeping pinions, and her eyes undimm'd
With gloating on the forms of other slain,
Flies darkly o'er my path, and very oft
Misfortune like a condor flaps wide wings.
And makes me crouch with shudders in their shade.
66 TO A DOVE.
I long have learned to hear when sorrow sighs,
To feel when sorrow weeps and point to stars
—
Bright stars when sad ones thro' their gushing tears
See only couds. And once in still midnight,
An angel, sped from her celestial home,
With silvery voice said these few words to me
;
" 'Tis nobler far to twine the dewy rose
Amid the orphan's pensive curls, than gird
The wreath of laurel round the conqueror's brow !"
Then rest, thou dove, upon my breast, and bend
Thy orbs of love on me, as in old days
In proud baronial halls thy kindred gazed,
On maidens' alabaster shoulders perched.
While troubadours sang gleeful songs, and knights.
In crimson garments clad, did pledge full draughts
In honor of bright eyes and ruby lips.
Thou art most lovely, and the iris curves
About thy placid pupils beautiful
!
A fairer tint the Norman girl ne'er marked,
When sitting in her bower in ancient time, ,
A bird akin to thee the missive bore.
Which told her that in lands beyond the seas,
Her lover 'raong the warriors of Christ,
Yet hurled with vig'rous arm the barbed lance
TO A DOVE. 67
Against the Moslem host, and on his breast
Still wore the cross she gave in trusting-hour,
Again for shady dells in the wild woods
Unfold thy pinions gemm'd with purple tints,
And summon with soft cooing notes thy mate.
"When golden-gilded Spring the forest roams,
To hang her garlands on low-bending boughs,
And laugh in concert with the sportive brook,
Afar within the distant vale retired,
Secure from all thy foes dwell thou in peace !
And when sad Autumn on his solemn harp
His mournful echo w^akes, join thou the strain.
And murm'ring low thrill all the lonely wood
With peans for the falling leaves—for flowers
That wither in their bloom, and for the young
"Who journey then unto the grave !
THE SYCAMOEE TEEE.
Dear are the trees of that broad old grove
With their glossy boughs unto me,
But the dearest of all the patriarchs there,
Is the silvery sycamore tree.
Not that its leaves are brighter than others
—
Not that it lifts it head so high,
Though never a tree from the velvet vale,
More beautiful rose to the sky.
Not for its shining antlers, M^hich seem
Sprung from the w^hite moon's quivering ray-
Not for the throstle thrilling its boughs^
The livelong summer day :
(68)
THE SYCAMORE TREE. 69
I love it not for the daisies there
—
Not for the snowy hawthorne hedge
"Whence the blue-eyed violets creep by night
Upon the moonbeam's silver ledge,
Nor yet for the soft cerulean stream,
"Which mezzotints its graceful limbs.
Joyously painting each dark green leaf,
And teaching it tuneful hymns,
But I dearly love that sycamore tree
Because its swordlike branches wave
In guardianship of a bright green mound,
"Which mourning mortals call the grave.
By that rivulet's moss-bound banks we sat,
Sporting one joyous summer eve ;
Bathing our feet, and making white stones.
The deep blue waters, gayly cleave.
On the western hills, the god of day,
Bathed in his own bright blood, sank down,
Like a warrior chief, whose closing hours
Add lustre to a laurel crown.
For a flight of feathery darts he sent.
Threading with gold the blue-eyed air.
Piercing the clouds, flooding the forests,
And tinging the curls of Youth's bright hair.
4*
70 THE SYCAMORE TREE.
Thick fell those molten golden ringlets,
Shading a fair cylindric throat
;
Sweeping adown pale thoughtful temples,
As starbeams o'er white marble float.
He was the pride of our mother's heart,
Angel-like with his azure eyes
;
Slender and straight as a stripling palm
Shootino; to cloudless Austral skies.
Life's airy lord passed through portals proud
Those arching nostrils thin and white,
And on the sheen of his broad brow curved
Two silken lines of shadowed light.
Never a sculptor's dream more lovely,
Burst on the world in parian stone
;
Never were brows of purer ivory
The dark Ebony Angel's throne :
For suddenly there across his features
Shot a shiver of mortal pain,
And his clust'ring locks sunk on my breast,
Like daffodils in April rain.
Twining my arms about him, gently
I laid him on the soft green grass,
"Watching across his saint-like beauty.
Swiftly the dark Destroyer pass.
THE SYCAMORE TREE. 71
Death's mystic bolts before had hurled,
Never, above my youthful head.
And like a birdling, serpent-charmed, I knelt,
By the pale sufferer's lone death-bed.
"Writhing in agony—beautiful
As rose-leaves in consuming flame,
Nervously quivered his matchless hps.
With the fierce throes rending his frame.
Awe-struck I watched the viewless breath
Through his fair throat grow faint and brief,
And crystal spheres beading his temples,
Like raindrops on the lilly's leaf.
Motionless he lay, the pilgrim blood
Perished before the simoon's power,
And his pure young spirit upward passed
Like odour from a broken flower.
Tenderly I called his music name
—
In vain—he would not move or speak,
The silken sentry of his heavenly eyes
Mournfully slept on his pale cheek.
" Brother ! my brother, oh ! speak to me—"
The night wind answered from the trees,
And a fair young matron glided near,
Noiseless as the soft summer breeze.
72 THE SYCAMORE TREE.
Golden-haired, divinely beautiful
Slumbered her glorious idol there,
But the halo of a youthful saint,
Were those thick wreaths of burnished hair.
Beautiful, like an early snow-drop
Grleaming in Death's chill wintry halls
;
"What grief, oh ! pale Niobic mother,
Snatched the glee from thy light foot-falls.
Mournful as a willow-branch upon the turf
She bowed in sad surprise,
And silver tears bedewed the sleeper's face
—
Tears from our mother's mild brown eyes.
Twilight also wept, and the planets
High troubadours of heaven's empire,
Marvelling paused to garner up the tones.
Which sprang from her spirit's broken lyre.
" Carroll, sweet Carroll, my matchless boy,
And dost thou dead or sleeping lie ?"
And the purple dove, on the white hawthorne.
With mournful carols gave reply.
Warmly she wreathed her flower-like kisses,
In fleeting garlands for his brow,
Vainly adjuring the dark'ning skies,
With many a thrilling vow.
THE SYCAMORE TREE. 73
Quiring seraphs hushed their sounding harps ;
They, of divine empyrean birth,
Paled, with amaze, at the sundered tie,
And giant grief of atom earth.
Dusky silence quavered on her throne,
Pierced with a thousand arrowy sighs,
The nio-htwind rushed from the harrowinor scene
Seeking the light of happier skies.
And ocean heaved, when the winding stream
Sang of its far green altar shore,
Where lay pale Azrael's votive chaplet,
By the proud priestal sycamore.
He is buried there, he is buried there
Beneath that reverend sycamore tree,
And the blossoms rare, which burst from his grave,
Are the first to woo the epicure bee,
Through bursting buds the sunlight ripples
Cheering the faithful crocus there.
Whose golden leaves on the silent mold
Memorize his luminous hair.
And oft with eve's purple feet, [ haunt,
The hallowed arches of that grove,
My heart and the brooklet echoing back,
The sad wail of the cushat dove.
74 THE SYCAMORE TREE.
Stately forests, with their long moss hair,
Wipe the feet of the Father Stream,
"When the orange blooms, like milkway stars,
Under the dark magnolia's gleam.
Perfume loads the mimosa's pink-plumed wing,
Olive groves girt the Appenine,
They tell of the myrtle's graceful bough,
And they sing of the mountain pine ;
The British oak wakes the slumbering lyre
—
The beacon palm by the sounding sea,
But dearer than all of these to my heart.
Is the silvery sycamore tree.
THE FESTIVE HALL.
They have wreathed the flowers of blue-brow'd June
In garlands for the gay saloon,
And the deep orchestra's pealing strains,
Link rosy hours with silver chains.
And all is mirth in the festive hall,
There glancing feet, like lute-tones fall,
There bright eyes glisten and pale gold hair
Like angel plumage floats the air,
Play on, play on, with the dulcet flute.
The archers, Youth and Beauty shoot
From shining quivers of mirth and glee,
The golden moments as they flee.
(75)
76 THE FESTIVE HALL.
The cinctured zone, and the rose bound brow
Of graceful forms, are gliding now
In circling maze on the velvet floor,
Like star-beams round some fairy shore.
The cheek with tales of its beauty warm
,
And ardent manhood's stately form.
The pleasant song, and the jest's wild flight
—
They fill the gay saloon to-night.
No sad hearts mix with the happy throng
To chase the night with mirth and song,
The fair ! the free ! let them dance away,
The joyous viol sweetly play.
No sadness here ? yet methought a sigh
Stole with the viol's music by.
It comes again, is it yon fair girl
Whose brow is sorrow's throne of pearl,
'Tis she, there's trace of fearful care
Beneath those braids of jewelled hair.
The bright lip smiles, but she plays a part,
Away, away, thou broken heart
!
Not here, not here, come the sad and lone,
Away, or breathe a gayer tone.
Let the viol's strain float o'er the scene,
And ring the merry tamborine.
THE FESTIVE HALL. 77
There standeth one, by the bright lamp-globe,
"Whose face wears not a festal robe,
"Whose raven locks, like a funeral pall,
On brows of deadly pallor fall.
His quivering lip strives in vain to hide,
Unhealing pangs of wounded pride
;
The heaving breast, and the moistened eye
Betray that memory will not die.
What dost thou here with thy griefs to-night ?
Go, give them to the sad star-light.
Eing the tamborine more loudly yet.
And gaily sound the castanet.
The chandeliers, from the ceiling, shine
On crimson waves of flowing wine.
But guilty memories harrow the soul
Of some w^ho quaff the sparkling bowl.
The whispered tale, and the envious sneer.
Of evil spirits wander here
;
And some young hearts of the bright band swell,
With echoes of the funeral bell.
Alas ! alas ! for the festive hall,
Its music doth not cheerily fall.
Let other strains to the throng be borne.
Wind, minstrel, wind the silvery horn.
78 THE FESTIVE HALL.
They still look sad : like the amethyst,
And golden hues from morning's mist,
The joyous smiles from their brows have past,
And left them pallid and aghast.
Not yet wane the stars of purple night,
And fairy feet no more are light
:
The glowing youth seems a withered stera,^
And lovely eyes with tear-drops gem.
Alas ! alas ! for the festive hall,
Its radiant throng are mourners all
:
Play on, play on for the rose-bound brow,
But sweep the mournful harp-string now.
I NEVER HAVE MET THEE.
I NEVER have met thee, I've wandered this world
As shoots a lone fire-mist athwart the sad night,
And I dreamed not the future's dark plumage was furl'd,
O'er the sheen of a vision so beauteous and bright.
Yet sometimes there came in my sorrowful hours,
Strange glimpses of gladness, which brightened my
heart
As a stream swerbeth, swiftly, through ebony bowers,
Or bright pinions poise o'er a pool and depart
:
80 I NEVER HAVE MET THEE.
And often there murmured a musical tone
A tone, like a smile, through my spirit, that swept,
But I thought that the angels had found me alone,
And sang a sweet song to the mourner, that wept. .
I forgot that the soul had a twin at its birth,
"When it left the blue sky, for its pilgrimage here;
And I thought that there was not a being on earth.
Unto whom such a desolate heart could be dear.
I never have met thee, but, wandering, I heard,
Of a minstrel, whose numbers were gentle and low.
And I wished that the wildwood would give me a bird,
Whose carols as softly and sweetly might flow.
Aye ! I quaffed the rich tide of thy magical lyre.
Till thy thoughts, unto mine, so familiar became,
That my spirit could only its breathings, respire.
And burn with thy soul, in a heavenward flame.
And then did I know, that the whispers, which stole
Through my being, in life's early morning, were
thine,
That they claimed the dark altars, which rose in my soul,
And charm'd the false world from my sorrowful shrine.
I NEVER HAVE MET THEE. 81
For the harp which thy fairy-like fingers swept o'er,
Was heavenly, and blest with the same angel tone,
"Which that mystical power so often before,
Had rolled through my spirit, when sad and alone.
I never have met thee, but daily I dream
Of a moment, in which I shall look upon thee,
When our parallel souls shall in one placid stream,
Blend brightly their flow to Eternity's sea.
It may be but a dream, for misfortune and Time
Take delight in unlinking Love's soft silver chain,
But I know that thy spirit, in yonder bright clime,
Will seek its soft counterpart fondly again.
IDYLHEIMAR.
Dost thou hear me, Idylheimar
—
Through the star-hght soft and free,
Dost thou hear a pale-browed dreamer,
Murmuring mournfully of thee?
In this hour of silvery splendor,
Art thou thrilling with my love ?
Dost thou hear its breathings, tender
As the carols of a dove ?
(82)
IDYLHEIMAK. 83
There are waters round thy dwelling,
Flowing purple bright and clear,
Are they not forever swelling
Loving legends in thine ear ?
Do the golden clouds not cluster
Eound thy pathway more and more,
; And delight thee with a lustre,
Which they never had before ?
Do the woods not wave above thee
With a gentler whisper-tone ?
Ah ! I taught them how to love thee,
When I wandered there alone.
Though I fled that spot forever
Yet I left my presence there, .
On the woods and on the river.
And upon the crystal air.
Yet, I burstythe chains, that bound me,
And I wandered forth afar.
But my spirit circles round thee,
Like a tributary star.
84 IDYLHEIMAR.
Dost thou hear me, Idylheimar ?
Dost thou watch the world grow bright,
While the moon flings out her streamer,
From the purple peaks of night.
It is like the joy imparted.
From that radiant soul of thine,
When thy lifting eyelids darted,
All their beauty under mine.
Idylheimar I am raising
Up the violet folds of space,
And through starry vistas gazing,
On the glory of thy face.
I behold thee ! I behold thee !
Idylheimar dark and bright,
And the rolling planets fold thee,
With their silver plumes of light.
At thy feet the waves are dashing
—
But I see another there,
With a bridal chaplet flashing
Through the darkness of her hair.
IDYLHEIMAR. 85
•*
And thy proud dark eyes are filling,
With the freight ofjoyous tears
;
For her voice is through thee thrilling,
Like a flight of silver spears.
All thy being seems to quiver,
Like the mighty throbbing sea,
Where thine own beloved river,
Pours its sparkling tide of glee.
And alas ! a wreck is lying
By that river, rent apart.
And the winds are o'er it sighing
—
'Tis the shadow of my heart.
5
DANIEL WEBSTER
Toll, toll, a requiem knell,
Thou bell-shaped sky !
The sad autumnal winds
Bear a great soul by.
And the towering angel flies
Erom the broadly branching tree.
Whence so long his flaming sword
Flashed defiance on the sea.
Eoll, roll a thunder peal,
Like the boom of minute o^in^^
(86)
DANIEL WEBSTER. • 87
A continent is wailing
*
For the brightest of her sons.
Nor alone she sheds her tears,
For the world and Freedom sigh,
Toll, toll a requiem knell,
Thou bell-shaped sky I
Sob, sob, thou ocean wild,
On the lone, lone shore
!
That bugle voice will float
On the deep no more.
For the " god-Hke" soul has fled
From the grand majestic form,
"Which chaunted Union hymns,
Through the raging ocean storm.
No more that falcon eye,
Lights the Senate of the Free,
But a silent marble shaft
Gleams beside fhe rolling sea.
And the solemn granite-hills
Mourn around it evermpre, "^
Sob, sob thou ocean wild.
On the lone, lone shore ! .' ^
88 DANIEL WEBSTEE.
Wail, wail a coronach,
From deep toned wind !
Through the temple where the dust
Of Genius is enshrined.
Wail along its Northern hills,
Through the everlasting pine,
And beside the sea-laved sands,
Of the Californian mine.
Proud Orion's girdling orbs
Through November's arches soar.
But Columbia's starry triad
Belts her glorious zone no more.
And her last and brightest star
Hath in midnight gloom declined.
Wail, wail a coronach
Prom deep-toned wind
!
Weep, weep, repentant tears,
Thou ingrate land
!
Crown with tears the unwreathed brows
Of that bright star-band.
Weep, Oh ! weep, that freedom twined
No rich coronals for them,
DANIEL WEBSTER. 89
Who have clasped Columbia's brow
"With a fadeless diadem.
They have won an amaranth wreath
From the fullness of the sky,
And renown shall guard their graves,
"With a proud and sleepless eye,
But their like shall never claim
Civic chaplets at thy hand,
"Weep, weep, repentant tears,
Thou ingrate land !
TO ONE ON EARTH.
I DID love thee with that most holy love
Which blessed angels feel, and ev'ry morn
My spirit turned to thee, as doth the rose
To greet the rising sun. Thou wast a part
Of my whole life. In solemn night, when stars
Shone soft on me, I likened their bright beams
Unto the light of thy dark eyes. "Whene'er
Upon my sight the moon arose,
My full soul ever swelled with the glad thought
That thou didst love me well. I was no more
AU)ne in' this sad world, a lonely spar
(90)
TO ONE ON EARTH. 91
On heaving waters cast. My love for thee,
Exhaustless, broadj aUd deep, and full, became
As India's fabled stream, whose current bore ,
Sweet flowers forever on, while far below
Transparent opals and resplendent pearls
In purest brightness gleamed.
Oh ! fervent bards
Of purer joys ne'er dreamed, than I did claim
In my fond musings at that quiet hour.
For thoughts of love so fit, when radiant ones
Made melancholy by excessive bliss.
Do spread the crimson pall of eve. To me
Thou wast as Hesp'rus to the sailor tossed
Upon far-distant seas, love's harbinger,
And emblem of bright days to come. Like God's
Own gorgeous bow of promise arched upon
The lucid canvass of a summer shower.
Thou wast my sign ofjoy. The noon-tide air
Caressed my cheek, and murmur'd e'er thy name.
The morning's breath seemed laden with thy sighs,
And zephyrs, journeying from sweet perfumed isles
In ocean's trackless waste, did oft times pause
To hear my message, and to waft it on
99 TO ONE ON EARTH.
Unto thy ears. I heard thy joyous tones
"Whene'er low murmuring broolis^sang songs of glee,
And thy own laugh to me seemed softly borne
With ev'ry fountain's tuneful note. Thou wast
The link that bound me unto purest thoughts
And highest aims, the talismanic wand
That waved away the sullen mists of gloom.
And bade bright stars arise.
I little thought,
When trembled on the night's still air thy vows
And low responses, when thy beaming eyes
Love-lit seemed emblems of angelic truth,
When our fond hearts, their mutual throbbings timid.
As with soft clasping hands our pulses thrilled
In unison, that thou couldst thrust my love,
My holy love away, as wanton girls
Vain baubles cast aside, and seek again
For newer toys.
I know that thou v/ast gay
As some wild bird of soft Ausonian clime,
But 'neath that outward gayety I thought
A well of deep affection lay, whence I
TO ONE ON EARTH. 93
Full cups of bliss might draw. From all the bright
And beauteous things of earth—from star-lit streams,
From slanting trees, from dew empurpled vales.
From glowing skies, from rainbows, and from flow^ers,
I knew thy spirit drew rich sustenance.
But I did think that, sated with such sweets,'
^]\Iy dove of gentlest wing would speed away,
And nestling on my breast would murmur tones,
DeHcious tones of love. "Within the hall
Of festive joy, within the gay saloon.
Thronged with the beautiful and brave, I knew
That thou couldst float like Auster wandering
Amid a bed of roses, like a cloud
Of glorious tinge at even's witching hour;
But oh ! I thought that hushed to deepest awe
Thy heart w^ould be, as if the eye of God
Beheld the deed, as if his own ear heard
The solemn words, when thou didst plight to mo
The maiden troth and seal it with thy kiss.
Before I gazed entranced within the heaven
Of thy dark eyes, unto the touch of love
My heart had never opened its sealed lid.
But thou, false one, its fairest flowers hast culled.
94 TO ONE ON EARTH.
Each one with first love's beaming dew-drops bathed
;
And now, all withered, robbed of theh' perfume,
Thou send'st them back to me. A woman thou,
And heap such desolation on the soul
!
Thy coldness hath congealed my loving heart,
And o'er my firmament of love hung wide
A pall of sable hue. "Well I be it so,
The world hath grief, and I must bear my part.
The oak tree never bends, and I must learn
To stand erect and firm, though round my feet
My hopes their sad plumes trail.
Thou knowest not
How desolate my throbbing heart will be
In coming years. The future, spreading out,
Seems even as the long-extended waves
Unto the drowning mariner, a waste
Of waters, when the restless billows roll.
And yet not one reproach I cast on thee,
That thou hast made my life so sad. E'en now.
When grief sits on my soul, the sceptered King,
I pray for thee perpetual joy. I would
That some kind angel from high heaven would come,
And round thy swan like neck phylacteries place,
TO ONE ON EARTH. 95
To shield thee from all harm. I would that thou
Of that perennial font of youth couldst drink,
That healthiest hues might ever tinge thy cheek,
That e'er thine eyes in limpid light might gleam,
And e'er thy voice its liquid notes possess,
And thy soft laugh might float upon the air
As dulcet sound of vesper bell. For thee
Such joy I pray, as they fore'er possess,
Who in the blest Elysian fields do smile
Their happy hours away.
Ah ! I must stoop
To bear the burden of my fate. "With heart
All scarred as thunder blasted pine, I tread
Amid my fellows to the yawning grave.
Yet I can smile, can wreath the trembling lip
In mirthful glee, assume the haughty step
Of one who feels no vulture's horny beak
Upon the heart-strings feeding. Although love
May dwell not in the temple of my heart.
Another god may build him altars there,
And fire them with eternal flame. His voice
May lead me to no vine-encircled bowers,
Where softest joys abide. Ambition ow'ns
96 TO ONE ON EAKTH.
No sunny realms, where perfumed roses grow,
But wide and barren heaths, where oftentimes
The traveler's heart grows faint, and sadly pines
For one sweet word of love, albeit his cheek.
No trace of sorrow bears, and lordly scorn
Doth quell the rising tear ere it escapes,
And stamps upon the mouth its bitter smile.
'Tis true, when suppliant at ambition's throne
1 kneel, my swelling bosom may not heave
With eager bliss, nor sparkling tears of joy
Beneath my drooping eye-hds gush, but pride
Will send a thrilling pulse through me, and hope
A cloudless morn display, when on my brow
Triumphal garlands shall be twined.
Yet if
I climb the famed Parnassian mount, and strive
With lyre in hand, exultant strains to sound,
The recollection of my slighted love
Will so oppress my soul, that plaintive notes
And dirges sad, in place of victor songs,
AVill tremble on its chords. Yea, if I range
'Mid Helicon's symmetric groves, where stands
The tuneful Orpheus' counterpart, where rise
TO ONE ON EAETH. 97
In virgin witness, with fair garlands crowned,
The statues of the immortal Nine, I know
Each stately column, as if animate
And conscious of my love, will shape itself
An image of thy glorious form, and soft
"Will beckon unto me. And when I kneel
To quaff sweet draughts from fountains gushing there,
As erst it smiled on me, thy loving face
Will gleam amid the waves, until I weep
In very woe, that memory ne'er will die.
THE LADY OF AYR
When Spring waved her sceptre o'er mountain and
plain,
And twined in the valley her garlands so fair,
The Baron of Lorni assembled his train
To woo in her palace the Lady of Ayr.
He mounted his steed, it was black as the night,
And proud as the rider it chafed him to bear
;
Beside the bold Baron his banner gleamed bright, '
And hope led the way to the Lady of Ayr.
(98)*
THE LADY OF AYR. 99
He rode through the forest all stately and slow,
But heard not the carol of birds in their bowers
;
He saw not wild rose buds in morning's red glow
Unfold their young petals and burst into flowers.
He thought of the heiress—her lands and her gold
—
And dreamed of his rapture her riches to share ;
Ah ! Baron of Lorni, thy breast is too cold
To pillow the head of the Lady of Ayr 1
When hues of the even were red in the west,
And myrtles were blushing in twilight's last ray
;
When leaves of the forest all fluttered to rest,
And the breeze o'er the valley died fitful away—
"
The Baron looked upward, those old towers he knew,
Where a banner of silk waved its folds bright and
fair,
.And on his good bugle such loud blasts he blew
They thrilled the wide halls of the Lady of Ayr.
" I wis," quoth the Baron, " w^arm blushes will rise
W^hen heareth the lady the signal I blew,
And glances of pleasure glow soft in her eyes,
For the Baron of Lorni is comino: to woo."
100 THE LADY OF AYR.
" I wis" quoth the Baron, " ere morning may beam,
To gild with its splendor this palace so fair,
I shall see o'er these towers my own banner stream,
And I be the lord of the broad lands of Ayr."
He sprang from his charger, a page caught the rein,
The warders threw open their gates at his call
;
"With mien like a prince's he led on his train,
And the clang of the gold spurs resounds in the
hall.
Why pauses the Baron, why blanches his cheek.
Why greets the gay scene with so vacant a stare ?
A suitor so noble her presence may seek,
And lead to the dance the gay Lady of Ayr 1
Proud Baron, behold him whose eye is so bright,
And who lingers with rapture the heiress upon !
The pearls on his baldric were liquid with light,
As dew on the meadow when rises the sun.
Why trembles her hand in his welcome embrace,
Why kindle her orbs with the lustre they wear ?
Who nurtures the rose-buds that bloom in her face,
Who clasps the warm waist of the heiress of Ayr ?
THE LADY OP AYR. 101
* Tis Arthur thy cousin, the bold troubadour,
The orphan thy anger expelled from thy hall,
To wander an exile upon a far shore,
Or in the dread battle a soldier to fall.
Ah ! Baron of Lorni, no more will he roam
In sorrow, the ills of the cold world to dare !
He sings his wild songs in his own palace home,
And he is the lord of the Lady of Ayr !
»
I wonder, proud Baron, did blushes arise.
When heard the sweet lady the signal you blew ?
Did glances of pleasure glow soft in her eyes
That the Baron of Lorni came hither to woo ?
I wonder, proud Baron, when morning may beam.
To gild with its splendor this palace so fair.
Wilt see o'er the towers thy own banner stream,
And wilt thou be lord of the broad lands of Ayr ?
I EEMEMBER HER WELL.
I REMEMBER her Well, I remember her well,
With the deep azure eye, that so gently beguiled ;
I remember her tones, and the magical spell,
That flashed from her lip, when it joyously smiled.
I remember the grace of that planet-like brow,
How it mantled the soul with its beautiful light,
And the brown rippling tresses, that shaded its glow
Like the pale amber clouds round the queen of thd
night.
(102)
I REMEMBER HER WELL. 103
I remember her laugh, like the voice of a bird,
"When it rings through the forest, unfettered and free;
In the morn, on the mountain, its echoes were heard,
And the valley, at evening, repeated its glee.
Yes, her voice was as fresh as the wind, that imparts
Eich aroma from Araby's gardens of myrrh ;
And her heart was the lightest of all the young hearts,
That carolled the chorus of childhood with her.
I seem to be gazing once more on her face.
Where the eloquent blood spoke a language divine,^
Like the warm blushing tint on a delicate vase,
When 'tis suddenly filled with bright currents of wino.
But those were the days, when the summers were green
And winter looked fair as a marble -browed maid,
When the Spring on the hills w^as eternally seen,
And Autumn her farewell forever delayed.
I'LL HASTEN TO THEE, LOVE.
When twilight's soft blushes have crimsoned the sky,
And roses their petals till morning* conceal
;
When swells thy young bosom and beams thy dark eyo
With rapture too deep for the tongue to reveal,
If then thou but breathest a fond wish for me,
I'll hasten to thee, love, I'll hasten to thee !
When moonbeams are floating upon the clear stream,
Whose banks in our childhood we decked with gay
flowers
;
(104)
I'll hasten to thee, love. 105
When by its green margin thy dear tresses gleam
As brightly as shone they in life's younger hours,
If lingers thy memory then upon me,
I'll hasten to thee, love, I'll hasten to thee I
When pleasure illumines her rose tinted hall.
And summons her daughters with laughter and
song,
If then o'er thy spirit pale shadows should fall,
And thoughts of thy lover thy gentle heart throng,
I'll know thou art sighing tho' distant I be,
I'll hasten to thee, love, I'll hasten to thee !
When phantoms of grief find their homes in thy breast,
And golden-haired joys on their white wings have
flown;
When roams thy sad soul down the aisle of unrest.
As wanders a pilgrim all weary and lone
—
In sorrow as sunshine, in gloom as in glee,
I'll hasten to thee, love, I'll hasten to thee !
THEN LINGER THOU ZEPHYR.
Fair maidens are wreathing her dark waving hair,
And 'mid its bright folds they entwine the white rose :
Her sweet sighs of transport fall soft on the air,
And the swells of her bosom its rapture disclose.
Then linger, thou Zephyr, that kisseth my brow, .
Nor tell how lonely my spirit is now.
Her bridegroom is breathing the low notes of love.
And clasps her fair hand in his gentle embrace :
Her eyes meet her lover's like those of the dove.
And crirason-hued blushes glow warm on her face.
Then linger, &c. &c.
106)
THEN LINGER THOU ZEPHYB. 107
The festival palace where sports the gay band
Is thrilled with rich music that gayly floats there :
And pleasure the sentinel waves his white wand
To drive from his portals the phantoms of care.
Then linger, thou Zephyr, &c. &c.
"Why show her life's flowers bereft of perfume,
"Why point to dark clouds that forever are nigh
;
When buds of delight in her bosom have bloom,
And rainbows of beauty arch brightly her sky ?
Then linger, thou Zephyr, &^."
THE CLOUDS ON THE MOUNTAIN.
On the brow of the mountain the gloomy clouds throng,
And darkly their shadows roll over the vale
;
The Lark folds her pinions, and hushes her song,
In silence awaiting the close of the gale.
"When the rays of the sun glow softly again,
Those clouds will be melted, those shadows will flee
;
The lark from her wet wing will scatter the rain,
And soar to the heaven in spirals of glee.
(108)
THE CLOUDS ON THE MOUNTAIN. 109
Thy frowns of displeasure have darkened my soul,
In the hall of my spirit the pale shadows move
;
And from its mute lyre no music will roll,
Till gleam on its clouds the sunbeams of love.
When the rose of affection blooms sweetly once more,
And the light of thy smile shines brightly on me
My heart like the lark on glad pinions will soar,
And speed to thy bosom to warble for thee !
6
WE MET TO PABT EOEEVEE.
We met—'twas where her silver chain,
The midnight moon was weaving,
Across a darkly, rolling plain,
Of waters wildly heaving.
Our hearts were not more still and calm.
Than was that roaring river.
For we had sung Life's morning Psalm,—
And met—to part forever.
There waved a beauteous forest sea,
Beneath that moon's illuming
;
But sorrow, in our sandal-tree.
Her axe had been performing.
(110)
WE MET TO PART FOREVER. ^ 111
And sadly gazed we on the grove,
Which girt that foaming river,
And mourned to think with all our love,
We met to part forever.
The nio^htinofale fluns; on the breeze
The richest vocal treasure,
But grief, on Life's low minor keys,
Had struck a mournful measure ;
And coldly fell the night-bird's song.
He could but weep and shiver
To find our broken hearts so strong
To meet and part forever.
The dew shone on the blooming vines.
Our sylvan bower that shaded ;
But in our spirit shattered shrines
The rose of love w^as faded.
Youth's golden dew, which bathed it erst,
Again would bathe it, never !
And only blighting tear-drops burst,
To meet and part forever.
112 WE MET TO PART FOREVER.
The archer stars sat on the sky,
Their silver arrows glancing,
Against each wave, that shouted by,
To ocean's waste advancing ;
But we had known the poisoned darts,
From Grief's exhaustless quiver ;
They rankled in the writhing hearts
Now met to part forever.
'Tis many a year since there we met,
And sorrows have I numbered,
But bittered brine hath never yet,
My faded cheek encumbered.
And memory, like a guilty sprite.
Still haunts that lonely river,
When in the morn's unclouded light,
"We met to part forever.
IMPROMPTU PROPHETIC.
I SIGH to gaze upon thy brow,
As joyous smiles enwreath it,
And think what bitter tears will flow
Prom those blue eyes beneath it.
I sigh to think what storms will whirl
Above such sunny tresses,
Aud sorrows number every curl,
"Which now thy cheek caresses.
Thou art so far above this earth
That clouds will round thee cluster,
As lightnings gild, in seeming mirth.
Yon print of glittering lustre.
(113)
114 IMPKOMPTU PROPHETIC.
Thy sunny lash conceals a look
Of tears, beneath it, sleeping.
As summer vines disguise the brook,
"Which was but made for weeping.
Thou hast the dreaming air of one
To trust the starry vision,
"Which flies before the morning sun,
With smiles of bright derision.
I would that I could teach thee how
To shun thy young heart's blighting,
But ah ! 'tis writ upon thy brow^
—
I only read the writing.
THE SONG OF 10.
Sit Medea ferx, invictaque, flebilis Juno
Periidus Ixion, lo vng atristis Orestes,
Hot. Ejnst. ad Pis. 123-4.
Cruel Juno ! heartless empress !
AYith my weary soul I pray,
Cease thy torture one brief moment
;
Oh, thy vengeful anger stay !
For mine eyes are blind with weeping,
And my strength is worn away
;
Sad unrest is all my portion,
Thro' the lonely night and day.
(115)
116 THE SONG OF 10.
Eestless willows cease their waving,
When wild Auster sleepeth low^
;
Waves of ocean cease their motion,
And a tranquil quiet know ;
Even shifting clouds in heaven,
At still noon-tide linger slow
—
Over mountains and their valleys.
Must I ever wander so ?
Dew-drops speeding from high heaven,
Soft on budding flowerets fall
;
Lithsome straying leaves of autumn
To their resting places crawl
;
Fitful lio-htnino; claims a dwellino-
Nestling in its cloudy hall
;
Like them let me find a haven ;
Juno ! hear my moaning call.
Ah ! celestial maids are smiling,
In their blissful home above ;
Singing sweetly to each other
Cantos redolent of love.
THE SONG OF 10. 117
Will DO gentle voice of mercy
Soothing fall upon my ear ?
Passing days but mark my sorrow,
Still no cheering tone I hear.
Let me linger—oh, kind Juno !
Where dark cypress shades entreat
;
In yon brooklet bubbling by it
Let me cool my blistered feet.
Let me bathe my burning forehead
In thy limpid, liquid stream ;
On this green-sward let me droop me,
And forget my woes in dream.
As I pass majestic lilies.
How I long to pause awhile !
By young rose-buds I would dally,
Note them ope their lips to smile.
Oh ! to slumber in this meadow.
Where kind Terra's couch is spread
;
Where the oak, to shade it kindly,
Boweth low his lofty head !
6*
118 THE SONG OF 10.
Ever onward, ever onward 1
"Will my roamings never cease,
Tho' the verdant lawn invites me,
Saying, " lo rest in peace !"
Tho' melodious birds do woo me,
With most melancholy song
;
Tho' my heart doth bleed for quiet,
As I journey lone along !
Ah ! my dreary, dreary future
As a boundless ocean seems ;
And my sky is robed in sable,
Whence no star of mercy beams !
Grloomy phantoms flit before me,
Dusky robes behind them trail
;
Mercy, Juno ! oh, queen Juno !
Hear my agonizing wail
!
Lo ! poor lo, vainly mourning,
Is the human heart portrayed ;
Throbbing restless, throbbing restless,
To and fro forever swayed.
Sad pulsations thrill it ever,
Floating on its sea of life
;
Scorching sunbeams parch its fibers,
O'er it shriek shrill winds in strife.
THE -SONG OF 10- 119
Palpitating, palpitating,
Tranquil joy it never knows ;
Undulating, undulating,
As the stormy tempest blows ;
Piercing lightning o'er it gleameth,
Solemn thunders round it roar,
And above it, sea-birds, plaining,
"Wild and wailing dirges pour.
THE MELANCHOLY HOUJ^.
This night my heart is very, very sad,
And o'er my soul's harp breathe with deeper tone
The waiUng winds of grief. From ancient seers,
Erom prophets wise, short respite from my thoughts
I may not hope to win. They o'er me come,
Not as the tempest sweeps the darkened main
"With force resistless and with horrid rage,
But soberly, oppressively, as fall
Dead autumn-leaves upon a maiden's grave.
Or as the shrouding snow-flakes slowly sink
On pilgrim breathing his last trem'lous sigh
(120)
THE MELANCHOLY HOUR. 121
Alone on Alpine peak. Adown the aisle
Where restless roams my most unquiet soul,
My sorrows burn as doth the mocking torch
"Within a funeral vault. With listless eye
I scan in vain their pages genius-lit,
To whom with lavish hand the muse hath given
The power to sing.
His potent lyre in vain
Sonorous Homer sounds. I hear his strains,
And know them grand as ocean's mightiest waves
;
But not as in my younger halcyon days,
In warlike armor clad come trooping on
The heroes whom he sang. In squadrons arm'd
With martial music cheered they do not move,
Not with proud banners streaming in the wind
But sadly walks each hero and alone.
With drooping head and down-cast grieving eyes,
As if lamentisng him of valorous deeds
Whose glory w^as the death of noble men.
Lo ! where the great Achilles comes, and bears
No mail-coat on his form. Nor burnished shield
His left arm clasps, nor grasps within his right
The threat'ning spear, as w^hen brave Hector looked
122 THE MELANCHOLY HOUR.
And knew his coming doom; but cypress leaves
Are in his hand ; and pensively he kneels
Beside the buried Trojan's tomb, and weeps
As Priam's self would weep.
On Rome's imperial bard to gladden me
With liquid lyric lays of Tiber's stream,
Of famed Bandusia's fount of foaming seas
That proudly bore Augustus' galleys on
To conquest and to glory, of the fauns
"Who made wild merriment in coohng groves,
Of woodland nymphs, who danced on verdant lawn
In artless glee, or by th' observant stream
Their lustrous tresses wove, and saw sweet forms
The grateful waters mirrored back, in vain,
In vain with pleading voice I call. Tho' rich
Beyond compare in ores of molten gold,
The gen'rous bard hath not the glowing pearl
"Whose rays I covet most.
In vain I list
To Milton's tuneful notes, and strive to feel
Small portion of that rapt'rous ardent fire
THE MELANCHOLY HOUK. 123
That thrilled his heart, and filled his mighty mind
With visions of seraphic grace. As wept
The blind old monarch-bard, when strove in vain
To note Aurora speeding o'er the hills
His sightless eyes to darkness doom'd, e'er thus
This very night I weep to know and feel
That Heaven's own flwor'd one no magic hath
To soothe this lonely hour.
Could I with youth's invigorating step
On Scotia's heather tread, and summon up
From his remember'd grave tb' immortal Burns,
And bid him sing his glorious songs to me.
His honeyed words my spirit could not woo
From her despondency. In other hours
My heart has echoed to his wondrous lays,
And in its deepest cell his numbers kept.
In other days I've started at his call,
And as a little child obeyed his will.
In other years I've followed every step,
"Where walked the poet caroling his verse
Behind the moving plow, and charmed the air,
Or when at twilight 'neath the hawthorn's bloon
124 THE MELANCHOLY HOUK.
On " Highland Mary's" cheek he rested his,
And poured his melting music in her ear.
How oft by Logan's lovely stream, or by
Clear Afton's crystal wave I've knelt me down
A- mute adorer ! But alas ! this night
The veil of grief that shrouds my shrinking soul
His silver wand, alas, may not remove.
Of gayer moments, when my heart did leap
In w^antonness as leaps the sportive fawn,
I now remember not. Bright oases.
Where erst I dreamed the golden hours away
No more rise tranquil to my raptur'd view :
But moving sad and slow, I sigh to see
Man caravans in melancholy march
Upon the desert waste, while o'er the host
Of camels worn with toil, and feeble men.
In pale derision smiles the moon. In vain
I call on reason to assume her crown,
And with her sceptre wave these gloom-born thoughts
From her baronial realms. My plaining voice
She doth not heed, but leaves me for this hour
To the companionship of my lone thoughts.
"Within the hall where riant Fancy's throne
Was wont to gleam in gorgeous hue, where once
THE MELANCHOLY HOuR. 125
In purple robes attired the fairy queen
Her airy revels held, if e'er I turn
My sad dejected look I stand appalled
At the unusual scene. No sylph-like forms ,
'
Within the desolated chamber move
To witching- strains from ]yve and timbrel gay.
To chant their airs in more cono-enial homes
The transient troubadours have sped away
;
And harpers old with stately flowing beards
Most solemn gaze do bend on me, and from
Their sounding harps of ancient ebon made,
Fantastic carved with many a quaint device,
The saddest pseans pour.
The happy days
The dreamy nights that blessed my younger years,
The flute-hke tones of truthful boyhood's voice,
And the soft laugh of her I loved so well.
Are now as dim and waning lights that glide
A moment o'er the dark morass—and die.
This night fond mem'ry doth neglect her tasks.
And will not list to sorrow's sighs, nor note
The single tear slow trickling down my check.
The parchment where she traced the record fair
126 THE MELANCHOLY HOUK. ft
Of cheerful hourSj before mine eager sight
She will not now unroll. Unto the spots,
The pleasant, silvery sunlit spots, where oft
I basked in easej'ere lusty manhood heard
The swelling roar from life's wide battle-field,
And felt his muscles hardening for the fray,
She will not guide my step. Beside the brook,
"Whose silent waves did hear the low-breathed vows
I told a maiden once within the bovver
Where our twin spirits held their glad commune,
And plighted love and truth, along the path,
The winding path that sought the shady grove,
Where oft at eve an angel walked with me.
Reluctant memory will not point the way.
And when on bended knee I weeping plead
For smallest flower of that rose-tinted crown
I wove in days when visions thronged on me,
And when I w^ove heard music in the air.
She scatters from her hand its withered leaves,
And turns away.
She seems to-night diso-uised,
7
And wears such aspect that I know her not.
She is no longer beautiful. The form
THE MELANCHOLY HOUR. 127
Hath laid aside its customed queenly grace.
She hath unsexed herself, and lo ! she stands
In grave attire a sombre Mercury now
Before the portals of my saddened soul,
And ushers in its ivy-curtained rooms
The pale and sheeted phantoms of my woes !
T II E I. S T
How kind they are to come, in sleep,
When earth is wrapped in silence deep,
And soothe, with presence soft and mild,
The weary temples of their child.
How good to leave unswept the wires
Of gold, which grace their angel lyres,
And breathe love-burthened lays divine
Across a heart so sad as mine.
(128)
THE LOST. 129
It is no dream.—I see them now,
Above my couch, they gently bow,
As soft in childhood's morn, they came,
"When illness touched my tender frame.
They look not old, (thin veins are rife.
With gushings from the fount of life)
But young, as when they joined their lot
In love, which death divided not.
Their locks are thrown as if to hide
The scarce seen wings on either side,
For fear I might not recognize
Such shininoo: wanderers from the skies.
But memory never could forget
Those white arched feet so firmly set,
"Which seemed to childhood wondering mien
Pit only for a Fairy Queen.
'Tis she ! beneath its dark brown hair,
No other brow could shine so fair.
And with the soul's pure radiance grace
That soft divinely Grecian face.
130 THE LOST.
That chiselled head—that clear profile,
That living intellectual smile,
Those soft blue eyes,—that voice which stir§
My inmost soul, they all are hers.
" My child," what tones of love profound
[Earth hath not now so sweet a sound]
" Let grief no more corrode thy breast
And break thy sainted mother's rest.
" My stricken darting ! mourn her not,
"^But be contented with thy lot
;
" Let all thy life be good and pure,
" And teach thy spirit to endure."
And who is he, with visage bland,
Who holds in his, her slender hand?
A mien so free, a heart so true.
This clouded earth sure never knew.
Ah ! memory were more faithless yet.
Could she that hallowed form forget.
That mild benignant brow, which smiled,
Such constant kindness on his child.
THE LOST. 131
He speaks, and to each tender tone
My soul returns impassioned moan,
While shades of bright but fleeting years,
Are mirrored darkly in my tears.
" My daughter,"—oh ! that thrilling word,
My heart is quivering like a bird
Through which, while breasting stormy skies
The archer's gilded arrow flies.
" My daughter,"—ah ! a thick'ning flight
Of sobs break through the bars of night
While all its floods of tear-drops roll,
Upheaving from my billowy soul.
They stain the loving hands which now
Would calm the aching of my brow,
While fast their shining features grow
O'ershadowed with terrestial woe.
They cannot brook so sad a sight.
On wavering wings they take their flight,
They seek again the Eternal throne.
And I am left alone—alone.
TO A BELOVED POET.
As Auster breathing on the stately palm,
That upward soars, like the thoughts of pious men.
Its pliant leaves low-drooping in the calm,|
Doth wake to melody—so thou again^
The long-mute chords of my lone heart hast made
To quiver with such strains of music rare
That never from my memory they may fade,
But, blessing me, must always linger there.
(132)
I
TO A BELOVED POET. 133
Oh poet, whence to thee this boon ? Wast thou
With Ariadne on the Naxian isle,
When sorrow's plumes cast shadows on her brow,
And grief disrobed her lips of their sweet smile ?
Did thy sad spirit hear her plaintive moan,
Her pensive sighs, with ocean's music blent ? ,
Methinks unto thy sweet, heart-thrilling tone
Her dirge some portion of its power hath lent I
Wast thou in Ida's leaf-embowered grove,
With bold Anchises, when the Goddess came,
Fair ocean-born all radiant in her love,
Who lights on altars fit the hallowed flame ?
Didst note her luscious lips how dewy seemed.
How on her neck warm auburn ringlets fell,
Her passion-fed entrancing eyes how gleamed,
How gently rose her bosom's billowy swell ?
Her pearl-white rounded arms, her flexile waist
With wooing cestus girt in wanton fold,
Soft, lovely limbs, 'neath flowing garments traced,
Symmetrical, voluptuous in their mould
;
134 TO A BELOVED POET.
These beauties seen unto thy verse impart,
Oh ! Yenus-favored bard, its melting flow,
To fondest rapture moving every heart,
»
In throbbing bosoms kindling up a glow. «
Long years ago, when golden moonbeams played
In liquid showers on Ilium's citadel,
Ere vengeful Greeks their armies had arrayed
Or wild Cassandra shrieked its funeral knell
—
"Wast thou old Priam's guest, and didst thou hea^
His spacious halls and corridors along
Delicious music stealing on thy ear,
"Whose echoes sweet yet linger in thy song.
When to the past, oh bard, thy spirit turns,
To ruins marking where proud temples stood,
To mouldering tombs and melancholy urns,
To cities crumbling in their solitude.
And gathers thence thy inspiration fine
—
Thy magic verses then such power possess.
That every heart, with sighs as sad as thine,
J
Doth pulsate back to thee thy mournfulnesF'
TO A BELOVED POET. 135
When with high thoughts thy soul exultant thrills,
And thy bold strains like martial music rise,
Our fervent breasts a strange, wild frenzy fills,
From pulse to pulse the leaping ardor flies
;
When glowing tones upon thy golden lyre.
As soft, as warm as maidens' blushes dwell,
Then burn a thousand hearts with love's own fire.
With ecstacy a thousand bosoms swell.
ADDIE
The daughters of my father's house
—
They were not over fair
;
But one of them had loving eyes,
And soft and shining hair.
Her cheek was Hke the pale blush rose,
Her smile was like the sun,
Her brow—it was the fairest thing,
You ever looked upon.
(136)
ADDIE. 137
She floated like a fairy sylph,
Along the joyous dance ;
An angel-soul was on her brow,
And heaven was in her glance.
Her foot was like the tiny wing,
That bears a tiny bird
;
Her voice was hke its carrolling,
Among the myrtles heard.
I would that you had seen her when,
The loveliest of them all,'
She glided through the happy band,
That filled my father's hall.
She was the darling little lamb,
Our mother most caressed
;
And I,—I loved her as the soul.
That sorrows in my breast.
She was the jewel in the chain
That bound me to this earth,
The last sweet memory of the reign,
Of childhood and of mirth.
138 ADDIE.
The shrine on which my spirit laid
Its frankincense and myrrh,
And I can never love again,
As I have worshipped her.]
But she is sleeping sadly now.
Where willow leaflets fall,
And long green grasses wildly wave
Around my father's hall.
THE VANISHED EACE.
I KNEW a palace throned upon a hill,
The marble beauty of its columned front
In mellow moon-light gleamed, or flashed the rays
Of lustrous suns across a lovely vale.
And gliding up from many an altar-hearth,
That valley back returned blue incense clouds,
Which wreathed its dome with soft transparency.
Around its shining walls there stretched a soft
^
And horizontal twilight of old oaks,
Disturbed by pyramids of ash and trains
Of trembling poplars, whence through the long lapse
(139)
140 THE VANISHED RACE.
Of summer's loveliness, unbroken tides
Of music gushed around its lofty towers
—
The richest orisons from golden orioles,
The guileful mocking-bird's inconstant lay.
And tender requiems by the ill-starred dove.
Nor less entrancing at its granite base.
There the low sweet farewells of silver waves,"
Which cleared the steep declivity of green
To perish in the vale below.
When far,
And free rung out across the dusky earth,
The crystal notes of Eve's bright clarion star,
In sportive arcalade upon its proud
And Parian turrets, sprang the swift winged troops
Of silent air ; while many a gentle flower
Beneath the laurel thicket smiled applause,
And crowned the marching night-winds with per-fume.
There twilight loved to wave her purple flag,
And morning's raptured soul, in golden tears.
Dissolved upon her emerald throne. Soft Spring
With earliest garlands, bound its beauteous vase,
And there bright Autumn stayed her rainbow car.
It was a Paradise between the earth.
And heaven—a stainless shrine, which ever rose
THE VANISHED RACE. 141
In lovely cleavage of the eagle's^realm,
Like some eternal monument to man.
For through that marble pile, moved graceful forms
Who led the round of bright existence there.
They were a race, which might have spurned a
throne
;
Its daughters all were women chaste and fair,
And all the sons were proud and princely men.
And there was happiness like Isis veiled.
For evening's violet cloud went floating off,
Eich, with spoil of laughter's silvery sound.
Those vaulted chambers echoed carolled glee
From mirth-eyed maiden-hood, the shining curls
Of frail infancy lit their curtained gloom.
And like a tender dream the fair young bird
Stole through the twilight corridors, with steps
Soft as the notes of serenading flutes,
And musical as love toned virginals.
They twined May flowers beneath the dark old oaks
To grace a night-haired maiden's regal brow
;
Out on the distant slope a stripling sat,
And built his palace dream of future fame.
The low deep sounds of love were whispered there,
And Beauty blushed to hear that she was fair.
7*
142 THE VANISHED BACE.
The youthful father taught his children's tasks,
The mother syllabled their names in prayer
;
While girdled by a tripled chain of love,
"Was seen the hallowed head of silver hair.
I knew that cloud-crowned palace long ago,
But Change and Grief, since then, have stalked
In wretched triumph through its arches proud,
And swept away its lovely denizens.
One wreathed her brow with laurel leaves and died.
And one like Mercy went to Paynim shores
;
But far the saddest fate, of all, befell
That pale-browed dreamer of renown, who gave
His blighted spirit to a distant clime
;
Por one was buried with his country's brave,
And one green native to her Senate Hall,
Another bore her banner on the wave
;
Yet most sailed down the Stygian tide of death.
The last, a lovely relique fled its halls,
And like a shadowed star roamed o'er the earth.
But still, they say, that hill-throned mansion rears
Its alabastrian turrets to the sky
- In strange communion with the mystic stars,
"Which down upon the passer by it sends
A mournful ordnance lone, which sweeps the soul
With aching memories of that vanished race.
I LOYE NO MOEE.
I POUR my spirit's tirn of wine
On fair Apollo's music-shrine,
And weave for him, with tender art,
The choicest chaplets of my^heart.
At last, his soft seducing lyre
Eelumes my soul's extinguished fire
;
And wins the^worship, deep and wild,
It lavished on a sightless child.
I join the proud exulting throng,
(143)
144 I LOVE NO MOKE.
Who peal his deathless praise along
;
"With olive buds, I wreathe my lance,
And gaily thrid the mystic dance.
The echoes of my trembling shell
Throughout his vaulted arches swell,
I bind, with bay, his beauteous brows.
And bending breathe my burning vows.
No more Love's silver cord shall bind
Hy spirit's swift impetuous wind,
Pree, free, it leaps, from shore to shore,
I love no more—I love no more.
As on the Naxian's vine-clad isle.
Lone Ariadne wept awhile.
Then, to the grape god's stern control,
Surrendered all her tender soul
;
So let me drink the glittering rill,
Which hallows Heliconia's hill.
And I will plight a faith more true.
Than e'er the idol-goblet knew :
She clasped her temples with the vines,
Held sacred to the lover's shrines.
And I should bear a wreathen brow,
Like him, who claims my homage now.
The fairest myrtle fades away.
Give, give to me the immortal bay.
I LOVE NO MORE. 145
Weep Cupidj tj^rant, thus, to see
Thy tortured captive free, free, free,
Aye weep, thy reign of sighs is o'er,
I love no more, I love no more.
Yes, free, for never till to-night.
My spirit sprang so gay and light,
To guide the wheeling tempest-cars.
And winnow waves of twining stars.
Sure he, whose name I dared invoke.
At once from witching slumber broke.
And in one thrilling nectar wave.
The pledge of future rapture gave.
Upon my dreaming spirit floats
A silver tide of astral notes ;
Not Alceus lyre nor Procne's tongue
Such music breathed, such music sung :
There seems a thick ambrosial cloud.
My taper's midnight ray, to shroud,
And break in sparkling dewy rings,
Beneath the dash of whirring wings.
My joyful pulses madly start,
Delicious transports throng my heart
—
It seems as though on thought I trod
The rushing god I the rushing god !
146 I LOVE NO MORE.
A leaf I a leaf! one sybil leaf!
Quick, quick, the god's response is brief,
I scrawl, his^awful voice is this
—
" Plunge not in Love's profound abyss.
" I, /will teach your plume to soar,
But love no more, oh ! love no more."
t
I
MEMOEIAL TO MES. ANNA BIBB.
jShall we see thee no more ? Shall we see thee no more ?
' With the sheen of thy beautiful brow,
And thy pearl-tinted cheek mantling momently o'er,
With the pink of the blooming peach-bough ?
Will thy dulcimer voice never murmur again
Through the depths of thy spirit's repose,
Like the notes of that night-bird who carrols her strain
From the crimson-hued heart of the rose ?
(147)
148 MEMOEIAL TO MES. ANNA BIBB.
Ah ! they tell me those accents of musical mirth
Have been hushed by the spell of the tomb
;
That thine angel-like spirit hath floated from earth,
In the flush of its beauty and bloom.
We shall see thee no more as that singular smile
Came wreathing thy bright lips apart,
So inefiably sweet, that its light could beguile
Every grief from the moodiest heart.
Thou hast faded away, as the white lilly dies
'Midst the radiance of summer's bright zone,
And I deem thou art wreathing a harp in the skies,
For I know that an angel has flown.
Oh ! how swiftly and sadly from life's fairy chain
Pall the jewels which made it so bright,
And how mournfully glimmer the few that remain,
Through the teardrops that darken our sight.
And the world seems through shadows of midnight to
roll
As its sorrowful mazes I tread.
For they quenched a sweet planet, that shone in my
soul
When they laid thee away with the dead.
MEMORIxVL TO MRS. ANNA BIBB. 149
All ! but few could this world's crowded thoroughfare
show,
"Who to me were so lovely and dear
;
And my spirit would fain weave the wealth of her wo
In a garland of song for thy bier. ' 1^1^
But how faint are the chords, that I tremblingly strike,
And how worthless their music appears,
For my heart and my lyre are breaking alike,
As they flow in the language of tears.
HUSH MY HEAET.
Hush, my heart, thy wild commotion,
Hearest thou not the Savior's voice,
SteaUng on the stormy ocean,
Bidding every wave rejoice ?
Break not now with vain repining,
Burst from sorrow's cumbrous shroud,
See, the star of peace is shining
—
Shining through a sable cloud.
Each rebelHous murmur bridle,
Ereely every gift resign,
Cling not to thy perished idol,
When a Savior's love is thine.
. (150)
HUSH MY HEART. 151
Let the flow of grief's dark river,
Lave no more the silent sod
;
Eise and seek the fair forever,
Where the angels worship God.
Had He left to thee thy treasure,
Thou hadst loved this happy earth
;
And for dreams of fleeting pleasure.
Bartered thy celestial birth.
And thy worship might have madly
Drawn an angel, earthward, down
;
While the blue sky sorrowed sadly
Por the starlight of her crown.
Hush ! the voice of thy Redeemer
Stills the billows raging high
;
While he paints a rainbow streamer
On the canvass of the sky.
See, that brow of fadeless beauty
Girds thee with undying love
;
Follow thou the path of duty,
Leading to the bliss above.
152 HUSH MY HEAET.
Let this world forsake and shun thee
And thy brightest hopes decay,
With that look of love upon thee,
Toil and grief will flee away.
Let thy bitter teardrops cluster.
Soon they shall from earth arise,
Like a 'cloud of sacred lustre,
Treasured in the tranquil skies.
Joy ! my heart ! this world's dark river
Laves a city's shining walls,
Where the star-gemmed domes forever
King with holy festivals.
And thou shalt, in that dominion,
When the war with life is done,
Wave at length thy conquering pinion,
In the presence of the Son.
>0D
THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TEEE.
I SAW a sparkling fountain—a fountain clear and
cold
—
Upon a sombre mountain, a mountain grey and old
;
Beside this fount I saw an oak of stately trees the king,
Whose leafy boughs had thrilled for years with songs
that zephyrs sing.
j| It sent its vig'rous roots far down where limpid waters
flow,
And quaffed its draughts of liquid life in cooling halls
below.
In jets of beauty gushed the fount from out the verdant
earth,
In joy sped on its tiny streams rejoicing in their biril :
(153)
154 THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TBEE,
Now leaping bright in morning's light, loud laughing
in their flow,
Or gliding in the moon-lit nightlwith murmurs sad and
low.
When blushed Aurora o'er the mount, when matin
breezes played
'Mid rosy bowers of dewy flowers, or in the valley
strayed ;
When noon tide winds to lillies fair in lovers' accents
low
Told gentle words of constant love, which mortals never
know;
And when the weary sun went down, when twihght's
hour was nigh.
When crimson hues glowed soft upon the mellow evening
sky,
Then God's own singers thronged the boughs7of that
old monarch tree.
And warbling sang in tuneful choir their hymns of
melody.
Then gaily foamed the silvery fount, and sparkled in its
glee;
Then bound on the rivulets all bounding fast and free.
O, would that fount might ever flow from out its secret
source I
THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TREE. 155
O, would its streams might ever glide delighting in their
P course 1
But things of joy must fade away like those of grief
and woe,
And only one sweet day of joy earth's fairest objects
know.
Bright rainbows arch the glowing clouds one moment,
then are gone.
And modest dew-drops on the mead one hour of beau-ty
own.
The restless brook with rippling waves in caverns dark
and deep,
In whose broad halls from visions hid the blue-eyed
Naiads sleep.
With wayward current changed its course in other
caves to ghde,
And ne'er again the fountain filled, no more its streams
supplied.
When in his golden chariot the sun rode in the sky,
Its beams kissed not that fountain, its secret springs
were dry.
Thus desolate the aged tree could have no vigor now,
And fresh no more its branch could be, and green no
more its bough.
156 THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TREE.
To sighing winds it gave its leaves and withered on
apace
;
Low murmurs trembled 'mid its top, it tottered to its
base ;
:
And when the storm-king blew his trump it fell with
fearful crash,
As sinks beneath the woodman's axe the lordly moun-tain
ash.
I saw an aged trembling man of three-score years or
more,
His eye was dim, his cheek was wan, his footsteps slow
and sore.
The gentle wind that cooled his brow but few grey
hairs could find,
"Where hope in joyous days of youth her fragrant lau-rel
twin'd.
I saw a little smiling girl who called this man her sire
;
Upon her brow gleamed many a curl, her eye as spark-ling
fire
!
At morn, at noon, in starry night, she sat close by his
side,
And prattled on that lovely child, and gave the^ old
man pride.
THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TKEE. 157
He clung to life to see her smiles, to listen to her glee,
That not one ill might pale her cheek, or mar her gayety.
But brightest eyes their glances cease, and sweetest lips
their songs,
And in this life to gentlest hearts the saddest doom be-longs.
Of all the roses in the vale the queen the earliest dies,
And earth's best spirits plume their wings the soonest
for the skies.
Death waved his deadly cypress branch dark o'er that
laughing one
;
She smiled no more, her joy was o'er, her bud of life
unblown !
She sank to rest upon the heart of that old trembling
man,
And he caressed, and sadly pressed that hand so cold
and wan.
From that dear fount, w^hose music thrilled his heart
like lyric lays,
No more sweet cups of pure delight his aged hands
could raise.
Then dreary grew the night to him, and darkly dawned
the day.
158 THE FOUNTAIN AND THE TBEE.
And sighs of grief in evening winds he seemed to hear
alway
!
Thus desolate his life's sad harp one lonely paean poured,
Then willingly from earth to G-od the old man's spirit
soared.
THE PERSIAIS BRIDE.
See, Kuldah, if thy lord returns,
If on the hill his morion bums
;
The solstice sunbeams fiercely play
—
He lingers in the hunt to-day
:
Muezzin's call to mid-day prayer
Floats solemn through the sultry air
;
But ah ! my heart forgets to pray
When Cassim wanders thus away.
(159)
160 THE PERSIAN BRIDE.
Oh ! for one note of that wild shell,
Whose silver sounds, I love so w^ell
;
List, Kuldah, if their echoes fill
With sweetness not the silent hill
;
See if his crested courser train,
Winds proudly not across the plain,
And hke a star upon its van.
With flashing sheath and ataghan,
My Cassim's presence shines not there.
The fairest of a hundred fair.
How redly glows the tropic sky,
How hushed the distant waters lie,
It seems as though a simoon's wing
Slept silently on every thing.
The palms like weary eaglets droop.
See how my fragile lillies stoop
;
Bereft of morning's lucid dew
Like me they pine and languish too.
.
I'll gather one pale shrinking bell,
Its mournful beauty suits me well
;
And guard with kind, yet futile art,
This fleeting portrait of my heart.
And oh ! that Allah, from above,
THE PERSIAK BRIDE. 161
"When life hath lost the light of love,
Would mark the fading of the flower,
That bloomed awhile in Cussitn's bower ;
And ere the sweetness all be fled,
Which once its wilting petals shed.
Would grant, that Azrael's wing, unfurled.
Might waft them from a dreary world.
Think you, dear Kuldah, that I prize
These marble floors of thousand dyes.
This palace hall—these graven panes.
Whose crimson tint the sunbeam stains,
These costly gems a lover's pride.
Hath showered upon his Persian bride
—
Think you that they had chained me here,
Had Cassim not himself been dear.
Ah ! no, there is a land afar,
Whose brightness made my morning star,
Whose deathless memories oft control
The visions of my dreaming soul. .
And there on music's silver wings
His passioned soul the bulbul flings,
And till the day-dawn faintly glows,
162 THE PERSIAN BRIDE.
Beguiles from sleep, the blushing rose.
There glowing bends the clustering vine,
Whence Shiray draws her purple wine,
And fairy barques and barges break
The mirror of her moonlit lake.
The gorgeous realm of Kurreem Kahn
Bright as a rainbow's jewelled span
"With all its light—without its tears
It arches o'er my childhood's years.
In those soft shades full many a bird
And silver stream is sweetly heard,
And all were bright and blest and fair,
If only Cassim wandered there.
Why comes he not ? It is not day
Without his dark eye's sunny ray ;
A gloomy sadness veils the hall.
Thy lute hangs idly on tiie wall,
My bright-winged birdling charms me not,
The fountain sorrows in the grot,
And weary, weary is my brow.
See, Kuldah, if he comes not now.
THE PERSIAN BRIDE. 163
Tis past the hour when from the sport
His steed is wont to tramp the court,
And Cassim yield the gilded rein
To wear himself a softer chain.
'Tis past the hour when in the hall
Rings proud and free his quick footfall,
And like a planet on the night
His bright brow bursts upon my sight.
How like a god he bends awhile
To greet his Zalma's eager smile
Who ruffles back with anxious care
His brow's dark veil of raven hair,
And then, wiiere all her treasurie lies
Her soul dives down those glorious eyes,
And through the sea of rapture swims
Which floats within their shadowed brims.
Where is he now, by what cool stream.
Do those white eyelids closing dream ?
Say what pomegranite's envious bough
Bends blushing o'er her slumbers now,
Vain thing, tis Zalma's task to keep
Sole vigil o'er her lover's sleep.
164 THE PERSIAN BRIDE.
Hark ! Kuldah, heard you not that note ?
It seemed to cleave an angel's throat
;
So wildly clear, so sweetly loud
It floated from the cliff's white cloud.
Look, Kuldah, say what ails thine eye,
Do you not see bright banners fly,
And down beneath the olive's dun
A flash of armour like the sun ?
I see, I see, a dancing plume
Break brightly through the leafy gloom,
And ripple down the mountain height
Like some wild comet throuo;h the nip-ht.
'Tis Cassim's crest, fly ! Kuldah, fly !
And bid his banner flout the sky !
Wave gaily fro|n his palace dome,
Thy gallant chieftain's welcome home,
'Tis he, I catch the lustre now.
Which flushes round his brilliant brow,
He sees me, look, he waves his hand
And leaves behind the tardy band,
His bright eye burns, his red lip glows.
^nE PERSIAN BRIDE. 165
See, see, another kiss he throws.
And mark, how swift his winged steed
A sun-crowned storm flies o'er the mead,
And each wild tramp with matchless art
Keeps pace with Zalma's bounding heart.
IN THE BO WEE.
How softly to rapture this zephyr beguiles,
How balmy with odors from ocean's sweet isles !
Yon crescent of heaven shines queen of the night,
It gleams through the lattice, how golden its light
!
While trembles my fond heart with beams from thine
eyes,
I'll give thee a flower, young lover's best prize.
(166)
IN THE BOWER. 167
'Tis summer's first rose-bud, its petals how fair !
Then twine it, my own love, amid thy dark hair.
Its freshness will wither, its perfume depart,
But always thy beauty will bloom in my heart.
When youth 'mid thy tresses no longer may toy,
And time from thy bosom has gathered its joy
;
When lost is the luster thy pure orbs now own,
And graces of girlhood are faded and flown
;
In memory's mirror these bright stars will shine,
Again on my bosom thy form will recline
;
Once more the young crescent will 'lumine thy brow.
And I, in this bower, will murmur my vow !
I LOVE BUT THEE.
I LOVE thee, yet beneath thine eye,
My trembling soul grows hushed and still,
As when beneath the moonlit sky,
The weaves of ocean mutely thrill.
I have not then a monotone
To murmur in thy listening ear,
For silence builds her shadowy cone,
Upon my spirit's dreaming sphere.
But down beneath my being's swell,
"^kVith tender cadence soft and free,
A mermaid winds her silver shell
—
I love but thee, I love but thee.
(168)
I LOVE BUT THEE. 169
I love thee, though I cannot breathe,
In lingual tones, a single vow,
But in my heart, the sea-elves wreathe
Bright coral garlands for thy brow.
And though I seem so cold and proud,
When thou art bending at my shrine.
My soul's chill waters ever shroud
A wreath of pearls, whose light is thine.
And soft amid the festive throng,
There floats across my spirit's sea,
A measure like a halcyon's song
—
I love but thee, I love but thee.
I love thee, though when thou art near,
I turn away my conscious head.
And blanch, as though with fright, to hear
The simple music of thy tread.
But through my spirit's fountain caves
Then swiftly shoots love's purple foam.
Suffusing all the spell-bound waves,
"VYith radiant colors, soft and warm.
And on my soul's wide waste there springs
One living fountain, fresh and free.
Which through its briny billows sing,
I love but thee, I love but thee.
170 I LOVE BUT THEE.
I love thee ; thou art like the star,
"Which leads the silver host of night,
And flings across the ocean far,
A lengthening line of living Hght.
And as that star's trancendant gleam,
The truthful ocean, back, returns,
So does my soul reflect the beam,
Which fills thine eye's pure planet urns.
And fain would those soft wavelets rise.
And back in one glad burst of glee,
But on my life the anthem dies
—
I love but thee, I love but thee.
I love thee, and bright memories flash
Across my heart, when thou art gone,
As ocean's phosphor billows dash
Beneath the midnight's sable zone.
And yet I know such love is vain,
A dream which soon will glimmer by,
How can the lowly w^avelet claim
The starry splendor of the sky ?
But as the sea's wild surges beat.
Forever, round some proud palm-tree,
My spirit murmurs round thy feet,
I love but thee, I love but thee.
t LOVE BUT THEK. 171
k Thou wilt forget me, other eyes
K Will win the worship of thy heart,
p And like a cloud of gorgeous dyes.
Thy presence from my sky depart.
m And hope within my spirit sighs,
As vision so divine, to lose.
And like the withering dolphin dies
Amid a thousand rainbow hues.
And sad and low those echoes float
Across my heart's deserted sea.
As though a tear quenched every note—
^
I love but thee, I love but thee.
I'M LONELIEST IN A CEOWD.
When, mid the busy haunts of men
The waves of life around me roll,
Then memory links her darkest chain
And sorrow broods upon my soul.
When from the festive hall I hear
The sounds of laughter gay and loud.
Like funeral bells they strike mine ear
—
I'm loneliest in a crowd.
172
I'm loneliest in a crowd. 173
When with the young, the gay, the fair,
I wander forth with hope to lose
My youthful spirit's age of care
And brighten up its faded hues,
Then most amid their rainbow forms
I feel my stricken spirit bowed
And memory rouses sleeping storms
—
I'm loneliest in a crowd.
Oh ! give to me the silent night
Its starry musings lone and still
The streamlet's soft sequestered flight
The solemn moon communing hill.
I cannot see a human face
But round it winds the pale white shroud.
And Death seems robed in forms of grace,
I'm loneliest in a crowd.
THE BEAUTIFUL.
On my desolate track once the beautiful shone
Like a star that had stolen from Heaven's bright zone
;
But she melted in beauty and mystery away,
Like a rainbow's frail pinion of sunlight and spray.
I caught for a moment but one lightning glance
Ofher form as it wreathed through the festival dance,
Like the waving of boughs stept the graceful and free,
Like the bending of blossoms above the blue sea.
(174)
THE BEAUTIFUL. 176
There were hundreds around her, the young and the fair,
But none with such singular brightness of hair,
It twined and it floated in many a curl
Like a chaplet of gold round a pillar of pearl.
And none with such smiles of angelical grace
That showering fell from her marvellous face.
Like the long streaming plumes of a Paradise bird,
Or the strings of a harp which the zephyrs have stirred.
I sought her again,—but the faultless had fled
Like a sw^an dowm the stream, like a star which hath
sped,
And I sought her no more, for I knew such a flower
On the stem ofa century w^ould bloom but an hour.
TO MY LYRE.
Come, comej my lyre, come back to me,
'Tis long since I, thy strings have tried
;
Though thou hast filled my heart with glee,
"When other friends have left my side.
Though sad hath sometimes been thy lay,
And woven of sorrow's sable thread,
Thou never wert so false as they.
Whose fitful friendship swiftly fled.
(176)
TO MY LTBE. 177
Though others may have bidden me,
To weep in silence and alone,
I never poured my heart on thee,
But that there came an answer tone.
And thou bast never wooed that heart,
To render up its richest gem.
That thou might'st, like a chief, depart,
And wear it in thy diadem.
When wild misfortune's wintry wing
Dispersed the summer's heartless throng,
It only won from thy torn string,
A sadder, though a deeper song.
And thou hast never been unkind,
Although it were a trifling art,
To steal the few faint roses twined,
Around a sad sepulchral heart.
No, no, 'tis I who have been false,
To bid thy tender murmurs die,
Or faint in Memorv's funeral vaults.
The half-formed echoes of a sigh.
TO MY LYRE. 178
But I repent my cherished lyre,
Thy silent chords once more I wreathe,
Come sparkle with celestial fire,
And one immortal measure breathe.
The cold deriding world will deem
Thy song a light unmeaning scroll,
But ah ! 'twill give a deathless dream,
Of rapture to my cheerless soul.
Nor care I though thy murmurs wild.
As fleeting and forgot may be.
As May-wreaths which a simple child,
Plings idly on the foaming sea.
And when my fingers fail, in death.
At last, to sweep thy quivering wire,
I care not though thine every breath.
Should on oblivious breast expire.
So I but string, in yonder sky,
A harp, whose soft melodious tone
Shall never breathe an earthly sigh
Around the great Eternal Throne.
ZION.
Lift, Zion, lift thy beauteous head,
No more in dust and sorrow bow,
Up through the aisles of mercy tread,
And pay thy God thy promised vow.
See o'er the hills thy Day Star rise,
The heavy shades of night have fled,
A rainbow spans the brightening skies
—
Lift, Zion, lift thy beauteous head.
(179)
180 ziON.
No more, thou daughter of a King,
Thou shalt in grief and mourning go,
Put on thy festal robes, and sing
Of triumph to thy vanquished foe.
No more his foot shall trample thee.
Nor thou in captive chains be led,
For God, thy God hath made thee free,
Lift, Zion, lift thy lovely head.
No changeling child of earth art thou,
Bride of our Sovereign's only Son
;
Bright, pure and spotless is the brow,
Which hath a heavenly Lover won.
Then wreathe, with myrtles, thy gold hair,
Hear, hear thy Lover's stately tread.
His voice like music thrills the air,
Lift, Zion, hft thy glorious head.
LINES
FOR THE LAYING OF THE CORNER STONE OF THE Ist
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN MEMPHIS.
Let us lay our Corner Stone,
Let us lay it broad and fair,
"With the organ's pealing tone,
And the melody of prayer.
On this fair and goodly plain.
Which the swarthy savage trod,
We will rear a stately fane
To the great and living God.
9
182 LINES.
Let us lay its corner stone,
And the people here shall throng,
And his boundless bounty own,
In a shout of sacred song.
For He builded yonder dome,
"Where the stars of Freedom shine,
And our mighty rivers roam
Through a land of milk and wine.
Let us lay our Corner Stone
;
Though the builders threw it by,
It was quarried from a Throne,
In the adamantine sky.
And the fabric which shall spring
On the surface of this rock,
Shall not fear the lightning's wing.
Nor the whirlwind's fearful shock.
Let us lay our Corner Stones,
While we bend in fervent prayer,
In our spirit's mystic zones.
Let us lay them broad and fair.
{
LINES. 183
And these deathless souls of ours,
Shall in future triumph rise,
P Like this temple's holy towers,
Through the radiance of the skies.
TO A BIED.
Soar away, trembling bird, to thine own starry home,
I would not imprison thee here,
G^o dash with thy pinion the light fleecy foam,
Which crests the deep blue atmosphere.
Go, sing through the clear crystal arch of the sky,
Thy music so varying and wild,
And join with the seraphine chaunting on high,
Hymns of praise to the great TJndefiled.
(184)
TO A BIRD. 185
I would not that Earth should thy gay plumage stain
riy away like a carol of glee,
Por I have been bound by Calamity's chain,
But thy wing, bonny bird, shall be free.
Oh ! this world is a mixture of gladness and gloom,
An altar of hearts at the best,
"Where some must in flames like aroma consume,
That incense may float round the rest.
And the victor who tramps through the long stately
street,
In triumph and martial array,
Eegards not the flowers that fast round his feet.
In odours, are dying away.
But never, thou birdling, thy throat's silver song
Shall gladden the heartless and vain,
Whose bosoms, with thrillings of rapture could throng,
To a breaking heart's musical strains.
No, music should never be captive, but free
As the spheres of the infinite sky,
Whose anthems float down to the blue bounding sea,
Back billowing her joyous reply.
186 TO A BIRD.
And the sheen of thy pinion is chainless to claim
Its heritage starry and blue,
To burst through the air, like a fetterless flame,
Or wander dim forest aisles through.
Then fly, like a prayer from the heart's secret core,
Go, melt in yon white rolling cloud
;
And I would that my spirit, as sinless, might soar,
At last, to the throne of her God.
\
PHILIPPI.
Within the tent of Brutus strode
The murdered Emperor's shade,
Still crimson \sdth the blood that flowed,
"When Brutus plunged his blade.
But ah ! the look of love had fled
"Which wrapped that pallid brow,
When pierced with anguish Caesar said,
" Oh ! Brutus is it thou ?"
The sad reproachful glance was gone.
For vengeance filled his e^^e.
And dread was that sepulchral tone
—
" We meet at Phillippi."
(187)
5 PHILIPPI.
The night-wind wailed, a lonely wail,
The taper glimmered blue,
And Fear, himself, looks not more pale,
Than guilty Brutus grew.
For Conscience put on armor there,
And in the midnight hour,
He who could face a million men,
Confessed her sovereign power.
" What art thou demon—friend or foe ?"
The spirit gave reply,
" I am thine evil genius, know,
" We meet at Philhppi."
That voice had lost the tenderness,
In other days, it bore
For him, who loved not Caesar less,
But Rome so much the more.
It struck now, like a thunder clang,
Upon his reeling brain.
And three and twenty red mouths rang
A fearful chorus strain.
PHILIPPI. 189
And yet 'twas Caesar, he alone
Could claim that bearing high,
Though stern, and strange his farewell tone,
"WemeetatPhilippi."
Like some wild dream, the shadow fled,
Fov morning flushed the sky,
And as the living meet the dead,
They met at Philippi.
It was a challenge, bold and rare,
To brave that bloody plain,
For all were gallant Romans there.
The slayer and the slain.
And through their ranks that martial shade
Seemed, like a god, to fly.
And blunt each traitor's blood-stained blade
Which flashed at Philippi.
But most it seemed to hang, the while,
Around the flag unfurled^
Of him, who gave for Beauty's smile
The empire of the world.
Soft Antony in thy laurel crown
It placed its brightest gem.
And Csesar, for thy lordly frown
9*
190 PHILIPPI.
It won, a diadem.
But Cassius, thou lean conqueror when
The Ides of March rolled by,
Blood stained thy steel—'twas Csesar's thine,
'Tis thine at Philippi.
Oh ! Julius Csesar, mighty yet,
Amid the ranks of war,
ISTot in the capitol could set
Thy glorious natal star.
Still o'er the battle-field it streams,
A terror to thy foes.
As gorgeous in its setting beams.
As when it first arose.
Por Brutus played the noblest part
Beneath that red March sky,
And on his sword, he pierced his heart,
At fearful Philippi.
A STAELiaHT CHAUNIT.
Liquid opal showers glide
From the dew's baptismal Tirn,
Lambent flames of sacred fire
On the night's blue altars burn.
And the soul of music floats
Down her arches dim and grey,
Prom the gentle lutelike throats,
Quivering on the myrtle spray.
With those airy notes, let us,
Through the mystic starlight stroll,
I^or a dewy cloud of joy
Breaks in brightness on my soul.
(191)
192 A STAR-LIGHT CHAUNT.
How the fairy minstrel flowers
JRender through this leafy gloom,
Low responses to the birds,
In a chorus of perfume.
-Erom those ringing odour-bells
Gush a thousand rosy dreams,
And one valley in a bath
Of pellucid beauty seems.
It is not a night, when Thought
Should, a restless maniac, rave
Down that gloomy vale, which leads
To the treasure loving grave.
It is true, that we have wept,
"Who that dwells on earth has not ?
But we will not think, to-night,
On the sorrows of our lot.
Let us wreathe, of planet rays.
Festive garlands for our souls.
Till the morn her glorious light
On their shadowed beauty rolls.
For my heart is, like a dove,
Brooding on the dreaming earth.
And it glides to Him, whose love
Breathed its beauty into birth.
A STAR-LIGHT CHAUNT. 193
Dost thou hear that tender flute,
Thrilling silence on her throne ?
Does not all our perished Youth
Tremble on each semitone.
Golden pinioned moments rich
"With the freight of partial praise
—
Do they not sail back to thee,
On the bosom of its lays ?
All our childhood's summer nights,
With the cherished and the lost.
Ere they flamed into the skies,
In one fearful holocaust ?
But we must not weep to-night,
Through the blue Cathedral dome,
Not a sigh must, from one heart, [
Like an unblest spirit, roam.
For this hoary priestal earth,
And the choral stars above
Shout, in antiphonic tones.
Shout the tender theme of love.
And concordant strains, as soft.
From our spirits should exude.
As the breathing breezes now
Peopling purple solitude.
194 ' A STAR-LIGHT CHAUNT.
So we will not weep to-night,
While this grand musician earth,
Through the golden starlight peals
Hymnic chaunts of sacred mirth.
We will breathe of gladness too
—
From the temple of the heart.
All its glorious forms do not,
With the funeral trains, depart.
Some remain ; and while we rear
Silver shrines to God-like Truth,
Memory's ivy crowns the gold
Caryatidis of Youth.
THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE.
A MAIDEN sat at eventide
Beside a flowing stream
—
Majestic stream, witli flowery bants,
And waves of golden gleam
:
The maiden sure is in a dream.
Her hazel eyes so pensive beam
!
(195)
196 THE maiden's choice.
So young, so fair, why sits she there
With melancholy mien
!
So motionless, her shadow still
"Within the waves is seen :
The dusky twilight soon will come
—
The maiden then should seek her home.
, The maiden dreameth on ; and sad
The waves' low music swells
Upon the ambient atmosphere
With softest cadence dwells :
Just sad enough the waves' refrain
To link her thoughts' harmonious chain.
The maiden dreameth on ; and lo !
Upon the river rides
A boat of gorgeous golden prow
—
How noiselessly it glides !
See through the twilight's dark'ning fold,
How gleams that burnished prow of gold !
Hark ! loud above the waves' refrain,
In right commanding tone,
Full tender, yet as proud as if
THE maiden's choice. 197
Demanding but its own,
A lordly voice the maiden hears
And these the words that reach her ears :
—
" Thou maiden fair of raven hair,
Of melancholy mien !
Within my dreams thine eyes' soft beams
Have lono- ao;o been seen
:
I vowed it then to leave my home,
In quest of thee o'er earth to roam.
" I've kept my vow, roamed o'er the land,
And sailed upon the stream ;
My cynosure the hazle-beam
Years since I gazed on in a dream :
Oh ! sail with me towards the sea.
Where wealth and honor wait for thee.
"Where proud baronial lands extend
Beneath a peaceful sky,
My palace rears its marble walls
In grand serenity
:
Within the hall my slaves await
Thee, maiden, thee to share my state.
198 THE maiden's choice.
" Wilt come ? If thou wilt be my bride,
Upon my turrets gray
The earliest sun will shine and e'er
The softest moonbeams lay :
A word, a sign, will e'er command
All that thy slightest wants demand."
" It may not be," the maiden said
;
" Sail on unto the main !
Not wealth, not power, I crave for dower,
But heart for heart again,
Ploat, golden boat unto the sea :
And leave me portionless, but free !"
The maiden dreameth on ; again
Mute, motionless is she
;
Again the waves' low music swells.
And soothes her reverie :
Upon her ear sweet accents fell
—
Her guardian- angel murmured " Well !"
The maiden dreameth on ; and lo
Upon the river rides
A boat, whose keel the waters kiss
—
THE MAIDEN'S CHOICE. 199
How gracefully it glides !
Although it boasts not prow of gold,
Its course how stately doth it hold
!
Hark ! chiming with the waves' refrain,
A voice, as low and sweet
As music's tone, steals gently on,
Por ear of maiden meet
: