Indian Legends and Other Poems Part 6

"And I alone was cursed and loathed: 'T was in a garden bower I mused one eve, and scalding tears Fell fast on many a flower; And when I rose, I marked, with awe And agonizing grief, A frail mimosa at my feet Fold close each fragile leaf."

"Alas! how dark my lot, if thus A plant could shrink from me!

But when I looked again, I saw That from the honey-bee, The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing.

It shrank with pain or fear: A kindred presence I had found,-- Life waxed sublimely clear."

"I climbed the lofty mountain height, And communed with the skies, And felt within my grateful heart New aspirations rise.

Then, thirsting for a higher lore, I left my childhood's home, And stayed not till I gazed upon The hills of fallen Rome."

"I stood amid the glorious forms Immortal and divine, The painter's wand had summoned from The dim Ideal's shrine; And felt within my fevered soul Ambition's wasting fire, And seized the pencil, with a vague And pa.s.sionate desire"

"To shadow forth, with lineaments Of earth, the phantom throng That swept before my sight in thought, And lived in storied song.

Vain, vain the dream;--as well might I Aspire to light a star, Or pile the gorgeous sunset-clouds That glitter from afar."

"The threads of life have worn away; Discordantly they thrill; And soon the sounding chords will be For ever mute and still.

And in the spirit-land that lies Beyond, so calm and gray, I shall aspire with truer aim:-- Ave Maria! pray!"

THE CHILD'S APPEAL.

AN INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND REIGN OF ROBESPIERRE.

Day dawned above a city's mart, Yet not 'mid peace and prayer: The shouts of frenzied mult.i.tudes Were on the thrilling air.

A guiltless man to death was led, Through crowded streets and wide, And a fairy child, with waving curls, Was clinging to his side.

The father's brow with pride was calm, But, trusting and serene, The child's was like the Holy One's In Raphael's paintings seen.

She shrank not from the heartless throng, Nor from the scaffold high; But now and then, with beaming smile, Addressed her parent's eye.

Athwart the golden flood of morn Was poised the wing of Death, As 'neath the fearful guillotine The doomed one drew his breath.

Then all of fiercest agony The human heart can bear, Was suffered in the brief caress, The wild, half-uttered prayer.

Then she, the child, beseechingly Upraised her eyes of blue, And whispered, while her cheek grew pale, "I am to go with you!"

The murmur of impatient fiends Rang in her infant ear, And purpose strong woke in her heart, And spoke in accent clear:--

"They tore my mother from our side, In the dark prison's cell; Her eyes were filled with tears,--she had No time to say farewell.

"And you were all that loved me then, And you are pale with care, And every night a silver thread Has mingled with your hair.

"My mother used to tell me of A better land afar, I've seen it through the prison bars Where burns the evening star.

"O let us find a new home there, I will be brave and true; You cannot leave me here alone, O let me die with you!"

The gentle tones were drowned by shrill And long-protracted cries; The father on his darling gazed, The child looked on the skies.

Anon, far up the cloudless blue, Unseen by mortal eye, G.o.d's angels with two spirits pa.s.sed To purer realms on high.

The one was touched with earthly hues, And dim with earthly care, The other, as a lily's cup, Unutterably fair.

THE DYING YEAR

With dirge-like music, low, Sounds forth again the solemn harp of Time; Ma.s.s for the buried hours, a funeral chime O'er human joy and woe.

The sere leaves wail around thy pa.s.sing bier, Speed to thy dreamless rest, departing year!

Yet, ere thy sable pall Cross the wide threshold of the mighty Past, Give back the treasures on thy bosom cast; Earth would her gems recall: Give back the lily's bloom and violet's breath, The summer leaves that bowed before the reaper Death.

Give back the dreams of fame, The aspirations strong for glory won; Hopes that went out perchance when set thy sun, Nor left nor trace nor name: Give back the wasted hours, half-uttered prayer, The high resolves forgot that stained thine annals fair.

Give back the flow of thought, That woke within the poet's yearning breast, Soothing its wild and pa.s.sionate unrest; Love's rainbow-visions, wrought Of youth's deep, fearless trust, that light the scroll With an intenser glow,--records of heart and soul!

Give back--for thou hast more-- Give back the kindly words we loved so well, Voices, whose music on the spirit fell, But tenderness to pour; The steps that never now around us tread, Faces that haunt our sleep: give back, give back the dead.

Give back!--who shall explore Creation's boundless realms to mark thy prey?

Who mount where man has never thought to sway, Or science dared to soar?

Oh! who shall tell what suns have set for aye, What worlds gone out, what systems pa.s.sed away?

Not till the stars shall fall, And earth and sky before G.o.d's mandate flee, Shall human vision look, or spirit see, Beneath thy mystic pall: But hark! with accent clear, and flute-like swell, Floats up the New Year's voice,--Departed one, farewell!

SONG OF THE NEW YEAR.

As the bright flowers start from their wintry tomb, I've sprung from the depths of futurity's gloom; With the glory of Hope on my unshadowed brow, But a fear at my heart, earth welcomes me now.

I come and bear with me a measureless flow, Of infinite joy and of infinite woe: The banquet's light jest and the penitent prayer, The sweet laugh of gladness, the wail of despair, The warm words of welcome, and broken farewell, The strains of rich music, the funeral knell, The fair bridal wreath, and the robe for the dead, O how will they meet in the path I shall tread!

O how will they mingle where'er I pa.s.s by, As suns.h.i.+ne and storm in the rainbow on high!

Yet start not, nor shrink from the race I must run; I've peace and repose for the heart-stricken one, And strength for the weary who fail in the strife, And falter before the great warfare of Life.

I've love for the friendless; a morrow of light For him who is wrapped in adversity's night; With trust for the doubting, a field for the soul, That has dared from its loftier purpose to stroll, To haste to the conflict, and blot out the shame With the deeds of repentance, and resolute aim To seek, 'mid the struggle with tempters and sin, The high meed of virtue triumphant to win.

Unsullied and pure is the future's broad scroll, And as leaf after leaf from its folds shall unroll, The warp and the woof they are woven by me, But the shadows and coloring rest, mortal, with thee.

'T is thine to cast over those leaves as they bloom, The sunlight of morning or hues of the tomb; Though moments of sorrow to all must be given, There 's a vista of light that leads up to heaven; Nor utterly starless the path thou hast trod, Till thy heart prove a traitor to thee or to G.o.d.

I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY.