The Poetical Works of Mrs. Leprohon Part 12

Since then she has witnessed many a change, In the world around her, startling, strange; Her much loved Order growing in strength Throughout America's breadth and length; Our young city stretching far and wide, Till it reaches Mount Royal's verdant side, Where, fair as an Eden, through leafy screen, Villa Maria is dimly seen.

Timeworn foreheads and brows of snow Has the one we mourn seen in dust laid low; Fair girlish novice and nun professed, Quietly gathered to earth's dark breast; But with thoughts on heaven, she, through all, Patiently waited her Father's call, It came, and now she lays gladly down Her long borne cross to take up her crown.

Montreal, January, 1869.

THE RIVER SAGUENAY.

Few poets yet in praise of thee Have tuned a pa.s.sing lay, Yet art thou rich in beauties stern, Thou dark browed Saguenay!

And those grand charms that surely form For earth her rarest crown On thee, with strangely lavish hand, Have all been showered down.

Thine own wild flood, so deep, so dark; That holds the gaze enthralled As if by some weird spell, at once Entranced yet not appalled;

Seeking in vain to pierce those depths, Where wave and rock have met, Those depths which, by the hand of man, Have ne'er been fathomed yet.

And then thy sh.o.r.es--thy rock bound sh.o.r.es, Where giant cliffs arise, Raising their untrod, unknown heights Defiant to the skies,

And casting from their steep, stern brows Shadows of deepest gloom Athwart thy wave, till it doth seem A pa.s.sage to a tomb.

Such art thou in thy solitude, Majestic Saguenay!

As lonely and as sternly rude As in time past away,

When the red man in his fragile bark Sped o'er thy gla.s.sy wave, And found amid thy forests wild His cradle, home and grave.

All, all is changed--reigns in his stead Another race and name, But, in thy lonely grandeur still, Proud River, thou'rt the same!

NARRATIVE AND DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.

RED ROCK CAMP.

A TALE OF EARLY COLORADO.

My simple story is of those times ere the magic power of steam First whirled the traveller o'er the plains with the swiftness of a dream, Reducing to a few days' time the journey of many a week, That fell of old to the miner's lot ere he "sighted" tall Pikes Peak.

'Neath liquid suns.h.i.+ne filling the air, 'mid ma.s.ses of wild flowers gay, A prairie waggon followed the track that led o'er the plains away; And most of those 'neath its canvas roof were of lawless type and rude-- Miners, broad-chested and strongly built, a reckless, gold-seeking brood.

Yet two of the number surely seemed most strangely out of place, A girl with fragile, graceful form, shy look, and beauteous face, One who had wrought out the old, old tale, left her home and friends for aye, Braved family frowns and strangers' smiles, love's promptings to obey.

And the lover husband at her side no miner rough was he, If we may believe the shapely hands as a woman's fair to see; But his tall, lithe form, so strongly knit, firm mouth and look of pride, Told of iron will, resolved to win a home for his darling bride.

Tender he was, but the plains were vast, toilsome and tedious the way, Developing soon the fever germs that within her latent lay, And daily the velvet azure eyes with a brighter l.u.s.tre burned, And the hectic flush of the waxen cheek to a deeper carmine turned.

Oh! dread was the time 'neath that canvas close when she bravely fought for breath, Fire in her veins, while panting came each laboring painful breath!

At length one eve she clasped his neck, with a wild and wailing cry: "O, darling, lay me on G.o.d's green earth, 'neath his sun bright clouds to die!"

Mutely the bridegroom caught her up after that touching appeal; Why refuse her prayer when on her brow was already set death's seal?

To proffered help and rough words of hope, to protests whispered low, He murmured, "Leave us, go on your way! Comrades it must be so."

Then, in the eyes of those reckless men bright tears were glistening seen, For in their rugged, though willing, way most kindly had they been; No selfish fears of sickness dire had they shown by look or word, For whate'er of good dwelt within each heart that helpless girl had stirred.

They raised a tent, and from their stores they brought the very best, Whisp'ring of speedy help to come as each clammy hand they pressed.

"Nay, friends," he said with a short, sharp laugh, more painful than sob to hear, "No help send back, for myself and wife must perforce both settle here."

Then he sat him down, and placed her head on his aching, throbbing breast, While the sweeping rush of the prairie winds seemed to bring relief and rest, And her dim eye watched, without a shade of regret or pa.s.sing pain, The receding waggon, soon a speck on the wide and boundless plain.

"O Will! on your true and tender heart, happy and calm I die, For I know our lives, though severed here, will be joined again on high: One kiss, my husband, loving and loved, one clasp of thy strong kind hand, One farewell look in thy mournful eyes ere I pa.s.s to the Spirit Land!

"But, G.o.d! what is this?" she wildly asks with hurried, panting gasp; Her fingers have touched a weapon of death in her husband's hand close clasped: "O, surely, you would not--dare not--go uncalled to your Maker's sight?"

"Wife, when pa.s.ses your spirit away, mine, too, shall take its flight."

It boots not to tell of the loving prayers that welled from that true wife's heart, She sued with an angels holy power, a woman's winning art, Till that desp'rate man, with quick low sob, his weapon tossed away, And promised, till came his Maker's call, on this cheerless earth to stay.

Then suns.h.i.+ne lit up her wan white face and brightened her failing eyes, Enkindling upon her marble cheek the glow of the sunset skies; Closer she nestled unto his breast with a smile of childlike bliss; "Already a foretaste of yon bright Heaven is given me, Will, in this!"

A little while and the lashes drooped, unstirred by life's faint breath, Whilst the sweet smile on the perfect lips was sealed, for aye, by Death.

With the second sunset he laid her in her lonely prairie grave, Then joined a pa.s.sing miner's band that a friendly welcome gave.

But as time sped on, all, wond'ring, marked his silent, lonely ways, And the brooding nature, recking naught for blame, nor mirth, nor praise.

At rudest tasks of the miner's toil with fevered zeal he wrought, But to its tempting golden spoils he gave nor word nor thought.

Soon want and toil and autumn rains brought fever in their train, And Red Rock Camp resounded with delirious moans of pain; And the healthy shrank from the fevered ones, with hard, unpitying eye, And, heeding but their selfish fears left the sick, unnursed, to die.

Then unto the stranger in their midst, new hope and vigor came, Enkindled swift in that nature grand by charity's ardent flame; He nursed the sick and buried the dead, by the dying watched, until The grateful miners blessed the chance that had brought them "Parson Will."

'Twas thus they named him. Health returned to the stricken camp again.

One victim more the fever claimed--'twas he; nor grief nor pain Could be discerned in those patient eyes, but they shone with a radiant light As he whispered: "Joy and gladness come close after the cold dark night; A few short hours, and from life's dull chain will my weary heart be free, Then, Angel Wife, my promise kept, I go to G.o.d and thee!"

BOUND FOR CALIFORNIA.

With buoyant heart he left his home for that bright wond'rous land Where gold ore gleams in countless mines, and gold dust strews the sand; And youth's dear ties were riven all, for as wild, as vain, a dream As the meteor false that leads astray the traveller with its gleam.

Vainly his father frowned dissent, his mother, tearful, prayed, Vainly his sisters, with fond words, his purpose would have stayed; He heard them all with heedless ear, with dauntless heart and bold-- Whisp'ring to soothe each yearning fear "I go to win you gold."