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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of
+Leisure, by W.D. Lighthall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure
+
+Author: W.D. Lighthall
+
+Release Date: January 6, 2005 [EBook #14616]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS: ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Canadiana.org, Wallace McLean, Charles Bidwell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS
+
+Crimes of Leisure
+
+by
+
+W.D. LIGHTHALL,
+
+ADVOCATE.
+
+Montreal:
+"WITNESS" PRINTING HOUSE, ST. JAMES STREET
+1887
+
+
+Dedicated
+to
+My Friends.
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS.
+
+
+THE CONFUSED DAWN.
+
+
+YOUNG MAN
+  What are the Vision and the Cry
+That haunt the new Canadian soul?
+  Dim grandeur spreads we know not why
+O'er mountain, forest, tree and knoll,
+  And murmurs indistinctly fly.--
+  Some magic moment sure is nigh.
+O Seer, the curtain roll!
+
+SEER
+The Vision, mortal, it is this--
+  Dead mountain, forest, knoll and tree
+Awaken all endued with bliss,
+  A native land--O think!--to be--
+_Thy_ native land--and ne'er amiss,
+Its smile shall like a lover's kiss
+  From henceforth seem to thee.
+
+The Cry thou couldst not understand,
+  Which runs through that new realm of light,
+From Breton's to Vancouver's strand
+  O'er many a lovely landscape bright,
+It is their waking utterance grand,
+The great refrain "A NATIVE LAND!"--
+  Thine be the ear, the sight.
+
+(1882.)
+
+
+
+NATIONAL HYMN.
+
+To Thee whose smile is might and fame,
+  A nation lifts united praise
+And asks but that Thy purpose frame
+  A _useful_ glory for its days.
+
+We pray no sunset lull of rest,
+  No pomp and bannered pride of war;
+We hold stern labor manliest,
+  The just side real conqueror.
+
+For strength we thank Thee: keep us strong,
+  And grant us pride of skilful toil;
+For homes we thank Thee: may we long
+  Have each some Eden rood of soil.
+
+O, keep our mothers kind and dear,
+  And make the fathers stern and wise;
+The maiden soul preserve sincere,
+  And rise before the young man's eyes.
+
+Crush out the jest of idle minds,
+  That know not, jesting, when to hush;
+Keep on our lips the word that binds,
+  And teach our children when to blush.
+
+Forever constant to the good
+  Still arm our faith, thou Guard Sublime,
+To scorn, like all who have understood,
+  The atheist dangers of the time.
+
+Thou hearest!--Lo, we feel our love
+  Of loyal thoughts and actions free
+Toward all divine achievement move,
+  Ennobled, blest, ensured, by Thee.
+
+
+
+CANADA NOT LAST.
+
+
+AT VENICE
+Lo! Venice, gay with color, lights and song,
+  Calls from St. Mark's with ancient voice and strange:
+I am the Witch of Cities! glide along
+  My silver streets that never wear by change
+Of years: forget the years, and pain, and wrong,
+And every sorrow reigning men among.
+  Know I can soothe thee, please and marry thee
+To my illusions. Old and siren-strong,
+  I smile immortal, while the mortals flee
+  Who whiten on to death in wooing me.
+
+
+AT FLORENCE
+Say, what more fair, by Arno's bridgéd gleam,[A]
+  Than Florence, viewed from San Miniato's slope
+At eventide, when west along the stream,
+  The last of day reflects a silver hope!--
+Lo, all else softened in the twilight beam:--
+The city's mass blent in one hazy cream,
+  The brown Dome midst it, and the Lily tower,
+And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that seem
+  Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power,
+  On this side, greenly dark with cypress, vine and bower.
+
+
+AT ROME
+End of desire to stray I feel would come
+  Though Italy were all fair skies to me,
+Though France's fields went mad with flowery foam
+  And Blanc put on a special majesty.
+Not all could match the growing thought of home
+Nor tempt to exile. Look I not on ROME--
+  This ancient, modern, mediæval queen--
+Yet still sigh westward over hill and dome,
+  Imperial ruin and villa's princely scene
+  Lovely with pictured saints and marble gods serene.
+
+
+REFLECTION
+Rome, Florence, Venice--noble, fair and quaint,
+  They reign in robes of magic round me here;
+But fading, blotted, dim, a picture faint,
+  With spell more silent, only pleads a tear.
+Plead not! Thou hast my heart, O picture dim!
+  I see the fields, I see the autumn hand
+Of God upon the maples! Answer Him
+  With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand
+Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst!
+I see the sun break over you; the mist
+  On hills that lift from iron bases grand
+  Their heads superb!--the dream, it is my native land.
+
+[Footnote A: "Sovra'l bel fiume d'Arno la gran villa."--_Dante._]
+
+
+
+O DONNA DI VIRTU!
+
+(DANTE--INFERNO, CANTO I.)
+
+
+"_O mystic Lady; Thou in whom alone
+  Our human race surpasses all that stand
+In Paradise the nearest round the throne!
+  So eagerly I wait for thy command
+That to obey were slow though ready done._"
+
+How oft I read. How agonized the turning,
+  In those my earlier days of loss and pain,--
+Of eyes to space and night as though by yearning--
+  Some wall might yield and I behold again
+A certain angel, fled beyond discerning;
+  In vain I chafed and sought--alas, in vain,
+From spurring though my heart's dark world returned
+  To Dante's page, those wearied thoughts of mine;
+Again I read, again my longing burned.--
+  A voice melodious spake in every line,
+But from sad pleasure sorrow fresh I learned:
+  Strange was the music of the Florentine.
+
+
+
+LINES ON HEINE.
+
+
+I saw a crowded circus once:
+  The fool was in the middle.
+Loud laughed contemptuous Common-sense
+  At every frisk and riddle.
+
+I see another circus now--
+  (The world a circus call I),--
+But in the centre laughs the sane;
+  Round sit the sons of folly.
+
+
+
+IMITATED FROM THE JAPANESE.
+
+  "..........................
+  I have forgotten to forget."--Japanese Song.
+                                Tr. by R.H. Stoddard.
+
+The morning flies, the evening dies;
+  The heat of noon, the chills of night,
+Are but the dull varieties
+  Of Phoebus' and of Phoebe's flight--
+Are but the dull varieties
+  Of ruined night and ruined day;
+They bring no pleasure to mine eyes,
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+I am the man who cannot love,
+  Yet once my heart was bright as thine,
+The suns that rove, the moons that move,
+  No longer make its chambers shine;
+No more they light the spirit face
+  That lit my night and made my day;
+No maiden feet with mine keep pace
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+O, lost! I think I see thee stand,
+  By Mary's ivied chapel door,
+Where once thou stood'st, and with thy hand
+  Wring pious pain, as once before.
+Impatient, crude philosopher,
+  I scorned thy gentle wisdom's ray.
+All vain thy moistened eyelids were;
+  I sent my soul and thee away.
+
+A causeless wrath, a mood of pride,
+  Some tears of thine, and all was done;
+On alien plains I travelled wide
+  And thou wert soon a veiléd nun.
+Not long a veiléd nun, but soon
+  Unveiled of linen and of clay;
+But I am March while thou art June,
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+And now when I would love thee well,
+  There sits alone within my breast
+Calm guilt that dare not from its hell
+  Look up and wish the thing thou art.
+I see a dreadful gulf of fright
+  Beneath my falling life; and gray,
+Thy light becomes the ghost of light
+  Above it as it falls away.
+
+I have a life, a voice, a form,
+  A skilful hand to lift and turn,
+I have emotions like a storm,
+  A brain to throb, a heart to burn;
+But that which Jesus' blood can save,
+  Which looks toward eternal day,
+Is gone before me to the grave.--
+  It was my soul I sent away.
+
+The past is past, and o'er its woe
+  It is no comfort to repine;
+But I would wage my life to know
+  Thy feet in heaven keep pace with mine.
+I have no hope, I will not weep,
+  The only wish that wish I may
+Is this, that I may find asleep
+  The soul I thought I sent away.
+
+
+
+THE KNIGHT ERRANT.
+
+CLOUD TO WIND
+O blow, blow high, for I descend;
+Friend must go to meet his friend,
+If to earth you tie your feet
+You and I will never meet.
+
+WIND
+Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;
+I exceed my usual gait.
+Ha! this hill-top is sublime,
+But it makes me pant to climb.
+
+CLOUD
+Once again, a little space,
+Meet we in this Alpine place,
+Before you leap adown the vale
+Or I along my pathway sail.
+
+WIND
+Then let our little bell of time
+Ring onward with a chatty chime--
+How we have fled o'er earth and sky,
+And what you saw and what saw I.
+
+CLOUD
+O, I from off my couch serene,
+Woods, meadows, towns and seas have seen;
+And in one wood, beside a cave,
+A hermit kneeling by a grave:--
+The which I felt so touched to see
+I wept a shower of sympathy.
+And in one mead I saw, methought,
+A brave, dark-armored knight, who fought
+A shining-dragon in a mist,
+That, mixed with flames did roll and twist
+Out of the beast's red mouth--a breath
+Of choking, blinding, sulphurous death,
+On which I shot my thickest rain
+And made the conflict fair again.
+And from one town I heard the swell
+Of a loud, melancholy bell,
+That past me rose in flames of sound
+And up to Saint Cecilia wound.
+And on one sea I saw a ship
+Bend out its full-fed sails and slip
+So light, so gladly o'er the tide
+I could not help but look inside--
+Its passengers were groom and bride.
+I floated o'er them snowily,
+They felt my beauty in the sky,
+Their eyes, their souls, their joy were one,
+I would not cross their happy sun.
+I love this life of calm and use--
+No bonds but windy ribbons loose,
+No gifts to ask but all to give,
+Secure Elysium fugitive.
+
+WIND
+Your life, though, drinks not half the wine
+Of active gladness that doth mine;
+I spread my wings and stretch my arms
+Over a dozen hedgéd farms;
+I breast steep hills, through pine-groves rush,
+Rock birds' nests, yet no fledgling crush,
+Tossing the grain-fields everywhere,
+The trees, the grass, the school-girl's hair,
+Whirling away her laugh the while--
+(We breezes love the children's smile);
+And then I lag and wander down
+Among the roofs and dust of town,
+Bearing cool draughts from lake and moor
+To fan the faces of the poor,
+While sick babes, stifled half to death,
+Grow rosy at my country breath.
+I lent a shoulder to your ship;
+I moaned with that sad hermit's lip;
+I helped disperse the dragon's mist;
+And some bell's voice, 'twas yours I wist,
+I handed up to winds on high
+Who wing a loftier flight than I.
+But, hark! a rider leaves the vale.
+
+CLOUD
+Ah, yes, I catch the gleam of mail.
+
+RANDOLPH
+O speak again ye voicéd ghosts!
+I heard afar your cheerful boasts.
+And, if I doubt not, ye are they
+That here have met me many a day.
+
+WIND
+We are they.
+
+CLOUD, (echoing)
+                       We are they.
+But whither now doth Randolph stray,
+And why the mail, and why the steed?
+
+RANDOLPH
+This is my father's mail indeed,
+Bequeathed with message to his son:
+"Stand straight in it and yield to none."
+
+WIND
+But whither off and why away?
+
+RANDOLPH
+Off to the world; I cannot stay--
+That world I have so often viewed
+Here from this upper solitude--
+This bulwark barring strife and trade.
+Love calls me off. I love a maid,
+Loving her silently and long,
+Learning for her to hate the wrong,
+    Learning for her to seek the right,
+To hew at sloth and faint resolve
+And thoughts that round but self revolve,
+And pray for grace and virtue--wings
+That bear men to the highest things,
+    Enwrapt and rising into light.
+For her, for her, O Cloud and Wind!
+I trained my limbs and taught my mind,
+Ran, wrestled, clomb, and learned to bend
+The cross-bow with each village friend;
+And by my hermit-guardian spent
+The earliest dimness morning lent,
+And the faint torch that evening bore,
+In science and in saintly lore,
+Reading the stars and signs of rain,
+Noting each tree and herb and grain;
+Each bird that flutters through the leaves,
+Each beast, each fish that green lake cleaves,
+The curious deeds Devotion paints
+In missals and in lives of saints,
+And every olden subtle trick
+Of grammar, logic, rhetoric.
+But most on chivalry I turned
+A torrent eagerness, and burned
+To hear of wrong repaired, or read
+The working of some famous deed,
+Like those I dreamt that I could do
+When what I set myself was through:
+Vexed lest the inward clock of fate
+That ticked "Too soon!" might tick "Too late!"
+But now that dial points the hour
+When I must test my gathered power,
+And leave my books and leave my dreams
+Of steeds and towers and knightly themes,
+Of tourney gay and woodland quest,
+Of Perceval and Perceforest,
+Of Richard, Arthur, Charlemain,
+Amadis and the Cid of Spain--
+Must leave them all and seek alone
+Some grand adventure of my own.
+
+CLOUD
+Yet if you seek and cannot find
+Or fail to work what you designed,
+Be it but as the steadfast sun
+Who bright or dim his course doth run,
+And last doth reach as far a spot
+Whether he seems to shine or not.
+
+RANDOLPH
+The height, the fynial of my aim
+Is _to be worthy of her name_.
+
+CLOUD
+You mortals are a curious race--
+More whirled by passions, hot in chase
+Of passions, than myself am whirled
+When tempests tug me o'er the world;
+I cannot understand your ways.
+We clouds live our divinest days
+Beneath great sunny depths of sky,
+High above all that you think high,
+Drifting through sunset's surf of gold,
+Dawn-lakes and moonlight's clear waves cold,
+In realms so distant, chill and lone,
+That Love, impatient, leaves the throne
+To meditative Amity.
+
+RANDOLPH
+So would my guardian have it be,
+So flowed his constant voice to me,
+Of those to make me one, he sought,
+Who watch from mountain towers of thought,
+Or wandering into paths apart
+Pursue the lonely star of art.
+
+WIND
+But you would rather love and do.
+Well said, so much the wiser you!
+But let your love be false as maid's,
+Your every fire a flame that fades--
+A word, a smile, an easy thing
+To fledge and easy taking wing.
+Kiss every lip, as tired of rest
+As I am now. I'm off to west
+Good-bye, and some day when you're hot
+I'll meet you cool.
+
+CLOUD
+And I should not
+Delay my showers so long as this.
+God speed! Good-bye!
+
+RANDOLPH
+                     Good-bye.
+                               I miss
+Their wonderful companionship.
+So onward seems the world to slip.
+Now one glance backward firmly cast;
+Thy next foot forward bears thee past
+The mountain's crest. Ah, I behold
+Our reckless river leaping bold
+Down all its ledges. And I see
+The castle where Elaine must be.
+Lo, in yon window sits she oft.--
+From yon green maze of willows soft
+I hear our hermitage's bell.
+Sweet sound, sweet many scenes, farewell.
+        Elaine! Elaine!
+
+
+
+CUJUS ANIMÆ PROPICIETUR DEUS.
+
+
+A quiet, old cathedral folds apart
+  At Oxford, from the world of colleges
+A world of tombs, and shades them in its heart;
+  Contrasting with the busy knowledges
+This wisdom, that they all shall end in peace.--
+"Vex you not, slaves of truth! there is release."
+
+There every window is a monument
+  Emblazoned: every slab along the pave,
+Each effigy with knees devoutly bent,--
+  Or prone, with folded gauntlets,--is a grave.
+Unnoticed down the sands of Kronos run:
+Slow move the sombre shadows with the sun.
+
+Hard by a Norman shaft, along the floor
+  A portraiture on ancient bronze designed
+In Academic hood and robes of yore,
+  Commemorates some by-gone lord of mind.
+Mournful the face and dignified the head:
+A man who pondered much upon the dead.
+
+Repose unbroken now his dust surrounds,
+  He is with those whom mortals honor most.
+Respect and tender sighs and holy sounds
+  Of choirs, and the presence of the Holy Ghost
+And fellow spirits and shadowy mem'ries dear
+Make for his rest a sacred atmosphere.
+
+Sometime a gentle and profound Divine,
+  Father revered of spiritual sons.
+He died. They laid him here. About his shrine,
+  Of what they wrote this remnant legend runs:
+"Nascitur omnis homo peccato mortuus
+Una post cineres virtus vivere sola facit."[A]
+
+There as I breathed the lesson of the dead:
+Sudden the rich bells chorussed overhead:
+  "O be not of the throng ephemeral
+    To whom to-day is fame, to-morrow fate,
+  Proud of some robe no statelier than a pall,
+  Mad for some wreath of cypress funeral--
+    A phantom generation fatuate.
+Stand thou aside and stretch a hand to save,
+Virtue alone revives beyond the grave."
+
+[Footnote A: "Every man is born dead in sin. Virtue alone brings life
+eternal."]
+
+
+
+STANCHEZZA.
+
+EARLY LINES
+
+    Lo Zephyr floats, on pinions delicate,
+Past the dark belfry, where a deep-toned bell
+Sways back and forth, Grief tolling out the knell
+    For thee, my friend, so young and yet so great.
+    Dead--thou art dead. The destiny of men
+Is ever thus, like waves upon the main
+To rise, grow great, fall with a crash and wane,
+    While still another grows to wane again,
+    Dead--thou art dead. Would that I too were gone
+And that the grass which rustles on thy grave
+Might also over mine forever wave
+    Made living by the death it grew upon.
+I ask not Orpheus-like, that Pluto give
+Thy soul to earth. I would not have thee live.
+
+
+
+PRÆTERITA EX INSTANTIBUS.
+
+How strange it is that, in the after age,--
+   When Time's clepsydra will be nearer dry--
+   That all the accustomed things we now pass by
+Unmarked, because familiar, shall engage
+The antique reverence of men to be;
+   And that quaint interest which prompts the sage
+   The silent fathoms of the past to gauge
+Shall keep alive our own past memory,
+Making all great of ours--the garb we wear--
+   Our voiceless cities, reft of roof and spire--
+   The very skull whence now the eye of fire
+Glances bright sign of what the soul can dare.
+So shall our annals make an envied lore,
+And men will say, 'Thus did the men of yore.'
+
+
+
+SUNRISE.
+
+EARLY LINES
+
+I saw the shining-limbed Apollo stand,
+    Exultant, on the rim of Orient,
+  And well and mightily his bow he bent,
+And unseen-swift the arrow left his hand.
+  Far on it sped, as did those elder ones
+    That long ago shed plague upon the Greek--
+    Far on--and pierced the side of Night, who weak
+And out of breath with fright, fled to his sons,
+  The nether ghosts; and lo! his jewelled robe
+No more did shade a sleep-encircled world;
+And thereupon the faëry legions furled
+  The silk of silence, and the wheeling globe
+Spun freer on its grand, accustomed way,
+While all things living rose to hail the day.
+
+
+
+REALITY.
+
+A FANCY
+
+Fade lesser dreams, that, built of tenderness,
+Young trust and tinted hopes, have led me long.
+These jagged ways ye whiled will pain me less
+Than hath your falsity. Your spirit song
+Sent magic wafted up and down along
+The waves of wind to me. Your world was real.
+There was no ruder world that I could feel.
+I lived in dreams and thought you all I would,
+Nor knew what dread, bare truth is doomed to rise,
+When love and hope and all but one far Good,
+Like sunset lands feel the cold night of lies.
+
+Go, sweetest visions, die amid my tears,
+For hence, nor cheered, nor blinded, must I seek
+That larger dream that cannot fade; though years
+Of leaden days and leagues of by-path bleak
+Must intervene, with austere sadness gray,
+Fade dimmer! lest in agony I turn,
+And heartsick seek ye, though the Fates shriek "Nay!"
+And the wroth heavens with judgment lightnings burn.
+
+Go useless lesser dreams. And where they were,
+Rise, grave aërial Good! Thy texture's true.
+There is no good can die. "No ill," says Time, "can bear,
+However beautiful, my long, long earnest view."
+
+
+
+SEARCHINGS.
+
+(EARLY LINES.)
+
+Soul, thou hast lived before. Thy wing
+  Hath swept the ancient folds of light
+Which once wrapt stilly everything,
+  Before the advent of a Night.
+
+O thou art blind and thou art dead
+  Unto the knowledge that was thine.
+A longing and a dreamy dread
+  Alone oft shadow the divine.
+
+Full loud calls past eternity,
+  But Lethe's murmur stills its roar,
+The one vague truth that reaches thee
+  Is this--that thou hast lived before.
+
+Home often comes some voice of eld
+  Confused and low--a broken surge
+By fate and distance half withheld--
+  Rich in linked sadness like a dirge.
+
+The muffled, great bell Silence clangs
+  His solemn call, and thou, O soul!
+Dost stir in sense's torpid fangs,
+  Like the blind magnet, toward a pole.
+
+The deep, vast, swelling organ-sound;
+  The cadence of an evening flute,
+Bring oft those ancient joys around
+  To linger till the notes are mute.
+
+And when thy hushéd breathing fills
+  The shrine of quiet reverence,
+Then, too, a freeing angel stills
+  The clanking of the chains of sense.
+
+But nearest to that former life
+  Another power calleth thee,
+Away from care, away from strife,
+  Toward what thou wast--infinity.
+
+And in thee, soul, the deepest chord
+  Thrills to a strain rung from above;
+That strain is bound within a word,
+  A sole, sweet word, and it is--Love.
+
+Love--yet it cannot set thee free
+  To sweep again those folds of light,
+It torches but a part to thee
+  And dim, though fair. The rest is night.
+
+As the fine structure of a man
+  Fits into life's great world, foremade,
+So too it shadoweth the plan
+  Of ages hidden in the shade.
+
+And thou hast lived before; hast known
+  The depth of every mystery,
+Has dwelt in Nature, hid, alone
+  And winged the blue ætherial sea;
+
+Hast looked upon the ends of space;
+  Hast visited each rolling star,--
+Before Time measured forth his pace,
+  Scythe-armed, on a terrestrial war.
+
+
+
+HOMER.
+
+(EARLY LINES.)
+
+Time, with his constant touch, has half erased
+The memory, but he cannot dim the fame
+  Of one who best of all has paraphrased
+The tale of waters with a tale of flame,
+Yet left us but his accents and his name.
+
+Upon that life, the sun of history
+Shines not, but Legend, like a moon in mist,
+  Sheds over it a weird uncertainty,
+In which all figures wave and actions twist,
+So that a man may read them as he list.
+
+We know not if he trod some Theban street,
+And sought compassion on his aged woe,
+  We know not if on Chian sand his feet
+Left footprints once; but only this we know,
+How the high ways of fame those footprints show.
+
+Along the border of the restless sea,
+The lonely thinker must have loved to roam,
+  We feel his soul wrapt in its majesty,
+And he can speak in words that drip with foam,
+As though himself a deep, and depths his home.
+
+Hark! under all and through and over all,
+Runs on the cadence of the changeful sea;
+  Now pleasantly the graceful surges fall,
+And now they mutter in an angry key
+Ever, throughout their changes, grand and free.
+
+How sternly sang he of Achilles' might,
+How sweetly of the sweet Andromache,
+  How low his lyre when Ajax prays for light;
+(Well might he bend that lyre in sympathy
+For also great, and also blind was he.)
+
+We almost see the nod of sternbrowed Jove,
+And feel Olympus shake; we almost hear
+  The melodies that Greek youths interwove
+In pæan to Apollo, and the clear,
+Full voice of Nestor, sounding far and near.
+
+A dignity of sadness filled his heart,
+That sadness, born of immortality,
+  Which they alone who live in art
+Feel in its sweetness and its mystery,
+Half-filled already with infinity.
+
+Yea, Zeus was wise when he decreed him blind,
+And wiser still when he decreed him poor;
+  For insight grew as outer sight declined,
+And want overrode the ills it could not cure,
+Else rhapsody had lacked its lay most pure.
+
+
+
+OUR UNDERLYING EXISTENCE.
+
+O Fool, that wisdom dost despise,
+  Thou knowest not, thou canst not guess
+Another part of thee is wise
+  And silent sees thy foolishness.
+
+Yet, fool, how dare I pity thee
+  Because my heart reveres the sages;
+The fool lies also deep in me;
+  We all are one beneath the ages.
+
+
+
+TO ______.
+
+"Creation--God's kind giving--
+  Continues: did not at one Adam end.
+New realms start open to each generation,
+  Each man receives some gift, some revelation:
+I, in this late age living,
+  The gift, the new-creation of a friend.
+
+
+
+TO A DEBUTANTE.
+
+Thou who smilest in thy freshness,
+  Bright as bud in morning dew;
+Keep this thought in thy heart's bower
+"Ever turn, like sunward flower,
+  To the Good, the Fair, the True."
+
+
+
+A PROBLEM.
+
+Once, in the University of Life,
+_Remember_ and _Inquire_, my old Professors,
+A question hard requested me to solve:
+"How can man's love be great and be eternal
+If Right forewarns he may be called to leave it:
+Whether should Love rule Duty and be all,
+Or Duty turn his back on sweet Love crying?"
+
+I paused--then spoke, not having what to answer:
+"Ye know, Professors, how to utter problems
+And man perplex with his own elements.
+Yet I believe the ways ye teach are perfect
+And able are you what ye set to solve.--
+Admiring you, however, aids me nothing,
+I speak because I have not what to answer."
+"Ponder," they said, those quiet, sage Professors,
+
+I had seen Love--O Vision, I was near thee
+When Death refused that I should speak with thee!
+And I had seen her soft eyes' trustful brightness
+Wondrous look down into the soul of many
+And lead it out and make it of eternity.
+Yes, truly, in her look men find true being!--
+What ruin if such being must be withered!
+
+I had seen Duty--soldier of his God--
+Of Virtue and of Order sentinel--
+Grand his firm countenance with obedience.
+His troth to Love would everlasting be
+Or nothing. What then should commanding orders
+Bid him have done with her and all renounce?
+How can he look on Love and know this shadow?
+
+"I see no answer," answered I dejected,
+"Except that either Love must be abased,
+Or he resign perfection in his calling."
+
+"Nay," said they, but by strange, clear apparatus
+(Whereof within that College there is much)
+Gave illustration--paraphrased as follows:
+"Thou hast not reckoned for eternity.
+The True fears not Forever: fear thou not.
+Duty and Love are noble man and wife
+(If otherwise thou see them 'tis illusion),
+'Tis she sends Duty forth with dear embrace
+And proudest of his battle through her tears
+Encourages: 'Regard me not but strike!'
+And 'If thou must depart alas, depart!
+Follow thy noblest, I am ever true!'
+He strikes and presses, sending back his heart
+As forward moves his foot on the arena;
+Or marches bravely far and far, until
+Hope of return as mortal disappears:
+This should true soul endure, though everlasting--
+But then, besides, we know that One has mercy."
+
+
+
+TO A FELLOW-STUDENT OF KANT.
+
+The sweet star of the Bethlehem night
+  Beauteous guides and true,
+And still, to me and you
+  With only local, legendary light.
+
+For us who hither look with eyes afar
+  From constellations of philosophy,
+All light is from the Cradle; the true star,
+  Serene o'er distance, in the Life we see.
+
+
+
+TO THE SOUL.
+
+AN ODE OF EVOLUTION
+
+O lark aspire!
+Aspire forever, in thy morning sky!--
+Forever soul, beat bravely, gladly, higher,
+And sing and sing that sadness is a lie.
+
+Forever, soul, achieve!
+Droop not an instant into sloth and rest.
+Live in a changeless moment of the best
+And lower heights to Heaven forgotten leave.
+
+Man still will strive.
+Delight of battle leaped within his sires.
+They laughed at death; and Life was all alive:
+In him not blood it seeks, but vast desires.
+
+He wakens from a dream
+Reviews the forms he fought in ages gone--
+He or his ancestors, their shapes are one:--
+And also of himself the forms he battled seem.
+
+He sees the truth!
+"I wrestled with myself, and rose to strength.
+Still be that progress mine!--I see at length
+All World, all Soul are one, all ages youth!"
+
+
+
+THE PALMER.
+
+O solemn clime to which my spirit looks,
+No more will I the path to thee defer,--
+Worn here with search--a too sad wanderer,--
+The dance-tune spent, surpassed the sacred books,
+And spurned that city's walls where I did plan
+A thousand lives, unwitting I was pent;
+As though my thousand lives could be content
+With any vista in the bounds of man!
+
+Eternal clime, our exile is from thee!
+Flood o'er thy portals like the tender morn!--
+Receive! receive! and let us new be born!
+We are thy substance--spirit of thy degree--
+Mist of thy bliss--fire, love, infinity!
+And only by some mischance from thee torn.
+
+
+
+THE ARTIST'S PRAYER.
+
+I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
+  O Life and flying Unity
+Of Loveliness! Must man despair
+  Forever in his chase of thee!
+
+When snowy clouds flash silver-gilt,
+  Then feel I that thou art on high!
+When fire o'er all the west is spilt,
+  Flames at its heart thy majesty.
+
+Thy beauty basks on distant hills;
+  It smiles in eve's wine-colored sea;
+It shakes its light on leaves and rills;
+  In calm ideals it mocks at me;
+
+Thy glances strike from many a lake
+  That lines through woodland scapes a sheen;
+Yet to thine eyes I never wake:--
+  They glance, but they remain unseen.
+
+I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
+  Thou fillest heaven: the stars are thee:
+Whatever fleets with beauty rare
+  Fleets radiant from thy mystery.
+
+Forever thou art near my grasp;
+  Thy touches pass in twilight air;
+Yet still--thy shapes elude my clasp:--
+  I know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
+
+O Ether, proud, and vast, and great,
+  Above the legions of the stars!
+To this thou art not adequate;--
+  Nor rainbow's glorious scimitars.
+
+I know thee not, thou Spirit sweet!
+  I chained pursue, while thou art free.
+Sole by the smile I sometimes meet
+  I know thou, Vast One, knowest me.
+
+In old religions hadst thou place:
+  Long, long, O Vision, our pursuit!
+Yea, monad, fish and childlike brute
+  Through countless ages dreamt thy grace.
+
+Grey nations felt thee o'er them tower;
+  Some clothed thee in fantastic dress;
+Some thought thee as the unknown Power,
+  I, e'er the unknown Loveliness.
+
+To all, thou wert as harps of joy;
+  To bard and sage their fulgent sun:
+To priests their mystic life's employ;
+  But unto me the Lovely One.
+
+Veils clothed thy might; veils draped thy charm;
+  The might they tracked, but I the grace;
+They learnt all forces were thine Arm,
+  I that all beauty was thy Face.
+
+Night spares us little. Wanderers we.
+  Our rapt delights, our wisdoms rare
+But shape our darknesses of thee,--
+  We know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
+
+Would that thine awful Peerlessness
+  An hour could shine o'er heaven and earth
+And I the maddening power possess
+  To drink the cup,--O Godlike birth!
+
+All life impels me to thy search:
+  Without thee, yea, to live were null;
+Still shall I make the dawn thy Church,
+  And pray thee "God the Beautiful."
+
+
+
+THE WIND-CHANT.
+
+The Soul, the inner, immortal Ruler.--_Hindu Upanishad._
+
+"Witch-like, see it planets roll,
+  Hear it from the cradle call--
+Nature?--Nature is the soul;
+  That alone is aught and all.
+Grieved or broken though the song,
+  The fount of music is elate,
+For the Soul is ever strong,
+  For the Soul is ever great."
+
+"For the Soul is ever great!"--
+  Songless sat I by a grove,
+Pines, like funeral priests of state,
+  Chanted solemn rites above.
+Dark and glassy far below,
+  The River in his proud vale slept,
+Eve with olive-shafted bow
+  Like a stealthy archer crept.
+
+Why, O Masters, then I thought,
+  Is the mantle yours, of song?
+Why with hours like this do not
+  Glorious strains to _all_ belong?
+
+Why _all_ choosing, why _all_ ban?
+  Why are lords, and why are slaves
+And the most of gentle man
+  Clipt and harried to their graves?
+Foiled and ruined, masses die
+  That one fair and noble be.
+Why are all not Masters? Why
+  So unjust is Life's decree?
+
+Why are poor and why are rich?
+  Why are slaves and why are lords?
+Unto this the splendid niche:
+  Those caste damneth in their words.
+Do not powers of evil reign?
+  Do not flashes' storms make dread?
+Should not He of Life again
+  Bring the just peace of the dead?
+
+Oft the Pines, like priests of state,
+  Have spoke the heavenly word to man;
+So above me as I sate
+  Æol voices chanting ran:
+"For the Soul is ever great
+  For the Soul is ever strong;
+In the murmurer it can wait--
+  In the shortest sight see long.
+
+"Not a yearning but is proof
+  Thou art yet its aim to own:
+Thou the warp art and the woof,
+  Not the woof or warp alone.
+Couldst thou drop the lead within
+  To the bottom of thyself,
+All the World--and God--and Sin--
+  And Force--and Ages--were that Elf.
+
+"With thy breathing goes all breath,
+  With thy striving goes all strife,
+In thy being, deep as death,
+  Lies the largeness of all life.
+The world is but thy deepest wish,
+  The phases thereof are thy dream;
+They that hunt or plough or fish
+  Are of thee the out-turned seam.
+
+"Helpless, thou hast every power,
+  In thee greatness perfect sleeps--
+And thou comest to thy dower,
+  And thy strength perennial keeps.
+Stir the Aeol harp elate!
+  Make a triumph of its song,
+For the Soul is ever great,
+  For the Soul is ever strong!"
+
+Rushings cool as of a breeze
+  Amened to their litany;
+In their pure sky smiled the trees;
+  And no more was mystery.
+Clear I saw the Soul at work,
+  All through fair Saint Francis vale,
+Beauty-making; like a dirk
+  Peering bright amid the mail.
+
+Vital the dark River wound,
+  Glassy in his cool repose;
+Many a bird-like country, sound
+  As the Soul-voice upward rose.
+Then as in a glass I knew
+  _I_ was vale and town and stream,
+Shadowed grove and northern blue
+  And the stars that 'gan to gleam.
+
+This was I, and all was mine.
+  Mine--yea, ours--the grace and might,
+With the lordship of a line
+  That laughs at any earthly knight.
+Ah, what music then I heard!
+  What conceptions then I saw!
+Master-thoughts within me stirred,
+  And there flashed the Master-law.
+Next them did the greatest shapes
+  Of Angelo crowd in a dream:--
+Vain the grace that marble drapes;
+  A village mason's these did seem.
+
+But--the light from Angelo's eye
+  That so deeply eager burns
+With its fierce sincerity!--
+  Ah, the ancient saw returns:
+"Greater artist than his art;"
+  Meaning: greater yet than he
+Is the vast outfeeling Heart
+  In him lying like the sea.
+
+With a sudden eagle-stroke
+  How this truth can lift one wide.
+Then he sees the sublime joke
+  Of humility and pride;
+For the Soul is _ever_ great,
+  The one Soul within us all:
+One the tone that shakes a state
+  With the helpless cradle-call.
+
+Yes, that wonder of the Soul
+  Is the riddle of it all,
+And the answer, and the whole,
+  Bright with joy that rends the pall.
+Brother-man, I pray you stand,
+  Hear a minstrel; but the song
+If you do not understand,
+  Pass and do not do it wrong.
+
+
+
+TO CYBEL DEAR.
+
+LOVE-SONG.
+
+Though others plight for pride or gain,
+  And mix the cup of love;
+Theirs be the duller troth, the stain;
+  Ours the sweet stars approve.
+My riches, love, they shall be thou;
+  My pride, thy love for me:
+No diamond fairer decks a brow
+  Than thine sincerity.
+
+Though ours be tenements, not towers,
+  Theirs, lawns and halls of ease,
+Beloved, 'tis heaven, not gold, is ours,
+  And the realities.
+No sordid wish doth make us one,
+  But love, love, love.
+O surely, surely, that is done
+  Which the sweet stars approve.
+
+
+
+THE STILL TRYST.
+
+How love transcends our mortal sphere,
+  And sees again the spirit-world,
+Forgot so daily. Thou art here;--
+  I know thee, sweet--though fair impearled
+Thy face in a far atmosphere
+    To others,--hearing in the sea
+    My love a-crying up to thee.
+
+Thou by the surf, I on the lake:--
+  Yet in the _real_ world we meet;
+And O, for thy endearéd sake,
+  Love, all I am is at thy feet.
+With thy life let me breathing take,
+    And through all nature do thou see
+    My love a-crying up to thee.
+
+And with thine eyes shall I pursue
+  Yon shower-veils from the sunset flying,
+Blown mid clouds white and lurid-blue
+  That crowd the rainbow's arch, defying
+Him who in red death shoots them through.
+    Look with me; in this pageant see
+    My love all glowing up to thee.
+
+See what I see, hear what I hear,
+  I too am with thee by the wave--
+One all the day, the hour, the year:
+  Our trust of love shall be so brave,
+We shall deny that death is here
+  Or any power in the grave.
+    I know thee; thou canst love like this;
+    Be ours the endless spirit-kiss.
+
+Dusk falls. How purely shines that star,
+  Concealed while day was in the sky;
+Life, love and thou not mortal are,
+  Though atheist noon your world deny.
+Dusk falls:--though in the west a bar
+    Of bloom on evening's pure cheek be;
+    In beauty thy love cries to me.
+
+
+
+THE CHICKIEBIDS.
+
+The chickiebids are in their nest
+    Overhead,--
+Dimpled shapes of rosy rest
+    Curled a-bed.
+Night has sung her spell, and thrown
+    Her dark net round
+Their heads; their pearly ears have grown
+    Deaf to all other sound.
+
+O of me how you are part,
+    Babies mine!
+Your hearts are children of my heart.
+    The inner sign
+Of my eyes lurks in your eyes,
+    And your soul,
+That so brims with Paradise,
+    Stirs what wonders roll
+Unsuspected in myself,
+    Who had thought
+Life half death, till childhood's elf--
+    Sign of angels men shall be--
+    Came and taught
+A youth eterne within futurity.
+
+
+
+THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK SELLER.
+
+Kanawâki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  Low the sunset midst thee lies;
+And from the wild Reservation
+  Evening's breeze begins to rise.
+Faint the Kônoronkwa chorus
+  Drifts across the current strong;
+Spirit-like the parish steeple
+  Stands thy ancient walls among.
+
+Kanawâki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  How the sun amidst thee burns!
+Village of the Praying Nation,
+  Thy dark child to thee returns.
+All day through the pale-face city,
+  Silent, selling beaded wares,
+I have wandered with my basket,
+  Lone, excepting for their stares!
+
+They are white men; we are Indians;
+  What a gulf their stares proclaim!
+They are mounting; we are dying;
+  All our heritage they claim.
+We are dying, dwindling, dying,
+  Strait and smaller grows our bound;
+They are mounting up to heaven
+  And are pressing all around.
+
+_Thou_ art ours,--little remnant,
+  Ours through countless thousand years--
+Part of the old Indian world,
+  Thy breath from far the Indian cheers.
+Back to thee, O Kanawâki!
+  Let the rapids dash between
+Indian homes and white men's manners--
+  Kanawâki and Lachine!
+
+O my dear!--O Knife-and-Arrows!
+  Thou art bronzed, thy limbs are lithe;
+How I laugh as through the crosse-game,
+  Slipst thou like red elder withe.
+Thou art none of these pale-faces!
+  When with thee I'll happy feel,
+For thou art the Mohawk warrior
+  From thy scalp-lock to thy heel.
+
+Sweet the Kônoronkwa chorus
+  Floats across the current strong;
+Clear behold the parish steeple
+  Rise the ancient walls among.
+Speed us deftly, noiseless paddle:
+  In my shawl my bosom burns!
+Kanawâki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  Thine own child to thee returns.
+
+
+
+MONTREAL.
+
+Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!
+  Spread wide thine ample robes of state;
+  The heralds cry that thou art great,
+And proud are thy young sons of thee.
+Mistress of half a continent,
+  Thou risest from thy girlhood's rest;
+  We see thee conscious heave thy breast
+And feel thy rank and thy descent.
+
+Sprung of the saint and chevalier!
+  And with the Scarlet Tunic wed!
+  Mount Royal's crown upon thy head,
+And--past thy footstool--broad and clear
+  St. Lawrence sweeping to the sea;
+  Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!
+
+
+
+ALL HAIL TO A NIGHT.
+
+All hail to a night when the stars stand bright
+  Like gold dust in the sky;
+With a crisp track long, and an old time song,
+  And the old time company.
+
+_Cho._--All hail to a night when the Northern Light
+          A welcome to us waves,
+        Then the snowshoer goes o'er the ice and the snows,
+          And the frosty tempest braves.
+
+The snowshoer's tent is the firmament;
+  His breath the rush of the breeze.
+Earth's loveliest sprite, the frost queen at night,
+  Lures him silvery through the trees.
+
+Yes, the snowshoer's queen is winter serene,
+  We meet her in the glade.
+Dark-blue-eyed, a fair, pale bride,
+  In her jewelled veil arrayed.
+
+Let us up then and toast to the uttermost
+  Fair winter! we knights of the shoe,
+And in circle again join hearts with the men
+  That of old time toasted her too.
+
+
+
+THE PIONEERS.
+
+All you who on your acres broad,
+  Know nature in its charms,
+With pictured dale and fruitful sod,
+  And herds on verdant farms,
+Remember those who fought the trees
+  And early hardships braved,
+And so for us of all degrees
+  All from the forest saved.
+
+And you who stroll in leisured ease
+  Along your city squares,
+Thank those who there have fought the trees,
+  And howling wolves and bears.
+They met the proud woods in the face,
+  Those gloomy shades and stern;
+Withstood and conquered, and your race
+  Supplants the pine and fern.
+
+Where'er we look, their work is there;
+  Now land and men are free:
+On every side the view grows fair,
+  And perfect yet shall be.
+The credit's theirs, who all day fought
+  The stubborn giant hosts:
+We have but built on what they wrought;
+  Theirs were the honor-posts.
+
+Though plain their lives and rude their dress,
+  No common men were they;
+Some came for scorn of slavishness
+  That ruled lands far away;
+And some came here for conscience' sake,
+  For Empire and the King;
+And some for Love a home to make,
+  Their dear ones here to bring.
+
+First staunch men left, for Britain's name,
+  The South's prosperity;
+And Highland clans from Scotland came--
+  Their sires had aye been free;
+And England oft her legions gave
+  To found a race of pluck,
+And ever came the poor and brave
+  And took the axe and struck.
+
+Each hewed, and saw a dream-like home!--
+  Hewed on--a settlement!
+Struck hard--through mists the spire and dome
+  The distant rim indent!
+So honored be they midst your ease,
+  And give them well their due,
+Honor to those who fought the trees
+  And made a land for you!
+
+
+
+CANADIAN FAITH.
+
+I.
+
+In the name of many martyrs
+Who have died to save their country,
+Poured their fresh blood bravely for it,
+And our soil thus consecrated;
+In the name of Brock the peerless,
+In the name of Spartan Dollard,
+Wolfe and Montcalm--world's and ours--
+The high spirit of Tecumseh;
+Of the eight who fell at Cut Knife,
+Bright in early bloom and courage,
+When our youth leapt up for trial;
+In the names of thousand others
+Whom we proudly keep remembered
+As our saviours from the Indian,
+From the savage and the rebel,
+Or from Hampton, or Montgomery
+By Quebec's old faithful fortress;
+And at Chrysler's Farm and Lundy;
+And upon the lakes and ocean;
+Or who lived us calmer service;--
+Many is the roll, and sacred;--
+In their names a voice is calling,
+  Through this native land of ours!
+
+Hark, for we have need to listen!
+All our martyrs warn and shame us.
+Do not let them see us cowards!
+Why are all these faint-heart whispers
+In the very hour of progress?
+
+Tattles of disquiet vex us,
+And among us are new enemies--
+Cowards, weak, ignoble whiners,
+Esaus, placemen, low-browed livers,
+Traitors, salesmen of a nation.
+Some would have us drop despondent
+And convince us we are nothing.
+(Us of whom ten thousand heroes
+Hitherto to here have conquered
+And we _must_ be faithful to them!)
+Some are hypocrites and cynics;
+Some would wreck us; some would leave us;
+Even in the hour of peril
+Would the hand of many fail us;
+They would almost make to falter
+  Our old simple faith in God.
+
+Therefore this appeal, O brothers,
+Earnestly do I adjure you
+  To believe and trust your country.
+
+By the glorious star of England,
+Shining mast-high o'er all oceans;
+In the name of France the glorious;
+In the world-proud name of Europe;
+Whence you draw your great traditions;
+  I adjure you trust your country!
+
+By all noble thoughts of manhood;
+By the toil of your forefathers;
+By their sacrifices for you;
+By the Loyalist tradition;
+And your own heart's generous instincts;
+  I adjure you be Canadian.
+
+
+II.
+
+"Is there a place, a work, a rank
+  Our Canada is called to fill:--
+She has but struggled till she sank
+  Hers is it but to toil and till:
+No seat among the peoples ours."--
+So speaks the Tempter in our bowers.
+So soft he presses on his bonds:--
+But hark! a softer voice responds:
+
+"Behold, Canadians, this your place,
+Your task, your rank, in earth _and heaven_
+To make you an especial race
+  To God and human progress given."
+Too holy is the task for jeers,
+Too lofty to permit of fears.
+
+Ignoble is the fear of loss;
+  The call of honour _all_ demands!
+What thought those generous hearts of dross
+  Who sowed our races in these lands?
+Who blames the Loyalist of pelf?
+Champlain, what cared he for himself?
+
+Ignoble is the dread of harm:--
+  Expurge it for a nobler creed!
+Until we smile at all alarm
+  Poor will be our Canadian breed.
+He may not count on victories
+Who will not die as patriot dies.
+
+Ignoble the consent to take
+  The light opinions of our worth
+That strangers condescending make
+  Who own not better brains nor birth:--
+Children of men who toiled and fought,
+Build your own fate; respect your lot.
+
+Arise! Live out a larger dream--
+  Your nation's that ye may be man's:
+Advance; invent; improve; the gleam
+  Of dawn for all illume your plans!
+Greece lived! the world requires again
+The lives of nations and of men!
+
+
+
+THE KEERLESS PARD.
+
+No, I'm a disappointed man,
+  Though I've acted fer the best;
+But I tell ye, stranger, what it is--
+  The Occident's not the West.
+
+Have I got the hang of the dialeck?
+  Ye're nearer New York ner I
+An' ye've seen th' latest litteracher
+  This lingo's laid-down by.
+
+What is Bret Harte now givin' us?
+  How's the Colorado tongue?
+Bret wuz the pard that run the West
+  When I wuz East--and young;--
+
+That is to say, three months ago.
+  But now I must be grey,
+Fer I've been out here so long I've lost
+  The hang o' the Western way.
+
+Way down thar in the State o' Maine,
+  In mild Skowhegan town,
+I pastured as a tenderfoot
+  An' the clerk o' Storeclothes Brown.
+
+Till I got to readin' _Roarin Camp_
+  An' about that Truthful James,
+Buffalo Bill an' Bloody Gulch,
+  An' pistol-an'-poker games,
+
+An' the pleasure o' shootin' justices
+  An' sheriffs deeputies
+An' the oncomplainin' public
+  An' the gineral mob likewise.
+
+Then I--wich my name is Dangerous Jake--
+  (Leastwise when took that way)
+Sloped unappreciative Brown
+  An' follered the wake o' day.
+
+An' here am I in Bismarck Jug!
+  Fer an inoffensive spree--
+Puttin' some buckshot inter the leg
+  Of a pagan-tail Chinee.
+
+Wot is the good of our churches
+  Ef the Mongol's goin' ter rule?
+An' how kin ye shoot the redskin
+  When they're givin' him beef and school?
+
+What are the Rockies comin' too?
+  Well, _I've_ acted fer the best.
+But the only remark I've got to make, is--
+  The Occident's not the West
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF LAPRAIRIE. (1691.)
+
+A BALLAD.
+
+I.
+
+That was a brave old epoch,
+  Our age of chivalry,
+When the Briton met the Frenchman
+  At the fight of La Prairie;
+And the manhood of New England,
+  And the Netherlander true
+And Mohawks sworn, gave battle
+  To the Bourbon's lilied blue.
+
+
+II.
+
+That was a brave old governor
+  Who gathered his array,
+And stood to meet, he knew not what
+  On that alarming day.
+Eight hundred, amid rumors vast
+  That filled the wild wood's gloom,
+With all New England's flower of youth,
+  Fierce for New France's doom.
+
+
+III.
+
+And the brave old half five hundred!
+  Their's should in truth be fame;
+Borne down the savage Richelieu,
+  On what emprise they came!
+Your hearts are great enough, O few:
+  Only your numbers fail,
+New France asks more for conquerors
+  All glorious though your tale.
+
+
+IV.
+
+It was a brave old battle
+  That surged around the fort,
+When D'Hosta fell in charging,
+  And 'twas deadly strife and short;
+When in the very quarters
+  They contested face and hand,
+And many a goodly fellow
+  Crimsoned yon La Prairie sand.
+
+
+V.
+
+And those were brave old orders
+  The colonel gave to meet
+That forest force with trees entrenched
+  Opposing the retreat:
+"DeCalliere's strength's behind us
+  And in front your Richelieu;
+We must go straightforth at them;
+  There is nothing else to do."
+
+
+VI.
+
+And then the brave old story comes,
+  Of Schuyler and Valrennes
+When "Fight," the British colonel called,
+  Encouraging his men,
+"For the Protestant Religion
+  And the honor of our King!"--
+"Sir, I am here to answer you!"
+  Valrennes cried, forthstepping.
+
+
+VII.
+
+Were those not brave old races?--
+  Well, here they still abide;
+And yours is one or other,
+  And the second's at your side,
+So when you hear your brother say,
+  "Some loyal deed I'll do,"
+Like old Valrennes, be ready with
+  "I'm here to answer you!"
+
+
+
+WINTER'S DAWN IN LOWER CANADA.
+
+To each there lives some beauteous sight: mine is to me most fair,
+I carry fadeless one clear dawn in keen December air,
+O'er leagues of plain from night we fled upon a pulsing train;
+For breath of morn, outside I stood. Then up a carmine stain
+Flushed calm and rich the long, low east, deep reddening till the sun
+Eyed from its molten fires and shot strange arrows, one by one
+On certain fields, and on a wood of distant evergreen,
+And fairy opal blues and pinks on all the snows between:
+(Broad earth had never such a flower, as in my country grows,
+When at the rising winter sun, the plain is all a rose.)
+Then seemed all nymphs and gods awake--heaven brightened with their
+smiles,
+The land was theirs; like mirages, stood out Elysian isles.
+Westward the forests smiled in strength and glory like the plain,
+Their bare boughs rose, an arrowy flight, and by them sped the train.
+But dream-crown of that porcelain sea, those plains of sunrise snow,
+The green woods east, the grey woods west, and molten carmine glow--
+A light flashed through the sappling wastes and alders nearer by,
+Where Phoebus worked the spell of spells that ever charmed an eye,
+His bright spears to the forest-flakes reached; that on their branches
+lay,
+And each shot back, as we sped by, a single peerless ray.
+More bright than starry hosts appeared that vision in the wood
+And flashed and flew like fire-flies in a nightly solitude,
+A maze of silver stars, a dance of diamonds in the day:
+
+Through many lives though fly my soul as on that pulsing train,
+That sparkling dawn shall oftentimes enkindle it again.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of
+Leisure, by W.D. Lighthall
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS: ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of
+Leisure, by W.D. Lighthall
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure
+
+Author: W.D. Lighthall
+
+Release Date: January 6, 2005 [EBook #14616]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS: ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Canadiana.org, Wallace McLean, Charles Bidwell and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS
+
+Crimes of Leisure
+
+by
+
+W.D. LIGHTHALL,
+
+ADVOCATE.
+
+Montreal:
+"WITNESS" PRINTING HOUSE, ST. JAMES STREET
+1887
+
+
+Dedicated
+to
+My Friends.
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS.
+
+
+THE CONFUSED DAWN.
+
+
+YOUNG MAN
+  What are the Vision and the Cry
+That haunt the new Canadian soul?
+  Dim grandeur spreads we know not why
+O'er mountain, forest, tree and knoll,
+  And murmurs indistinctly fly.--
+  Some magic moment sure is nigh.
+O Seer, the curtain roll!
+
+SEER
+The Vision, mortal, it is this--
+  Dead mountain, forest, knoll and tree
+Awaken all endued with bliss,
+  A native land--O think!--to be--
+_Thy_ native land--and ne'er amiss,
+Its smile shall like a lover's kiss
+  From henceforth seem to thee.
+
+The Cry thou couldst not understand,
+  Which runs through that new realm of light,
+From Breton's to Vancouver's strand
+  O'er many a lovely landscape bright,
+It is their waking utterance grand,
+The great refrain "A NATIVE LAND!"--
+  Thine be the ear, the sight.
+
+(1882.)
+
+
+
+NATIONAL HYMN.
+
+To Thee whose smile is might and fame,
+  A nation lifts united praise
+And asks but that Thy purpose frame
+  A _useful_ glory for its days.
+
+We pray no sunset lull of rest,
+  No pomp and bannered pride of war;
+We hold stern labor manliest,
+  The just side real conqueror.
+
+For strength we thank Thee: keep us strong,
+  And grant us pride of skilful toil;
+For homes we thank Thee: may we long
+  Have each some Eden rood of soil.
+
+O, keep our mothers kind and dear,
+  And make the fathers stern and wise;
+The maiden soul preserve sincere,
+  And rise before the young man's eyes.
+
+Crush out the jest of idle minds,
+  That know not, jesting, when to hush;
+Keep on our lips the word that binds,
+  And teach our children when to blush.
+
+Forever constant to the good
+  Still arm our faith, thou Guard Sublime,
+To scorn, like all who have understood,
+  The atheist dangers of the time.
+
+Thou hearest!--Lo, we feel our love
+  Of loyal thoughts and actions free
+Toward all divine achievement move,
+  Ennobled, blest, ensured, by Thee.
+
+
+
+CANADA NOT LAST.
+
+
+AT VENICE
+Lo! Venice, gay with color, lights and song,
+  Calls from St. Mark's with ancient voice and strange:
+I am the Witch of Cities! glide along
+  My silver streets that never wear by change
+Of years: forget the years, and pain, and wrong,
+And every sorrow reigning men among.
+  Know I can soothe thee, please and marry thee
+To my illusions. Old and siren-strong,
+  I smile immortal, while the mortals flee
+  Who whiten on to death in wooing me.
+
+
+AT FLORENCE
+Say, what more fair, by Arno's bridged gleam,[A]
+  Than Florence, viewed from San Miniato's slope
+At eventide, when west along the stream,
+  The last of day reflects a silver hope!--
+Lo, all else softened in the twilight beam:--
+The city's mass blent in one hazy cream,
+  The brown Dome midst it, and the Lily tower,
+And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that seem
+  Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power,
+  On this side, greenly dark with cypress, vine and bower.
+
+
+AT ROME
+End of desire to stray I feel would come
+  Though Italy were all fair skies to me,
+Though France's fields went mad with flowery foam
+  And Blanc put on a special majesty.
+Not all could match the growing thought of home
+Nor tempt to exile. Look I not on ROME--
+  This ancient, modern, mediaeval queen--
+Yet still sigh westward over hill and dome,
+  Imperial ruin and villa's princely scene
+  Lovely with pictured saints and marble gods serene.
+
+
+REFLECTION
+Rome, Florence, Venice--noble, fair and quaint,
+  They reign in robes of magic round me here;
+But fading, blotted, dim, a picture faint,
+  With spell more silent, only pleads a tear.
+Plead not! Thou hast my heart, O picture dim!
+  I see the fields, I see the autumn hand
+Of God upon the maples! Answer Him
+  With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand
+Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst!
+I see the sun break over you; the mist
+  On hills that lift from iron bases grand
+  Their heads superb!--the dream, it is my native land.
+
+[Footnote A: "Sovra'l bel fiume d'Arno la gran villa."--_Dante._]
+
+
+
+O DONNA DI VIRTU!
+
+(DANTE--INFERNO, CANTO I.)
+
+
+"_O mystic Lady; Thou in whom alone
+  Our human race surpasses all that stand
+In Paradise the nearest round the throne!
+  So eagerly I wait for thy command
+That to obey were slow though ready done._"
+
+How oft I read. How agonized the turning,
+  In those my earlier days of loss and pain,--
+Of eyes to space and night as though by yearning--
+  Some wall might yield and I behold again
+A certain angel, fled beyond discerning;
+  In vain I chafed and sought--alas, in vain,
+From spurring though my heart's dark world returned
+  To Dante's page, those wearied thoughts of mine;
+Again I read, again my longing burned.--
+  A voice melodious spake in every line,
+But from sad pleasure sorrow fresh I learned:
+  Strange was the music of the Florentine.
+
+
+
+LINES ON HEINE.
+
+
+I saw a crowded circus once:
+  The fool was in the middle.
+Loud laughed contemptuous Common-sense
+  At every frisk and riddle.
+
+I see another circus now--
+  (The world a circus call I),--
+But in the centre laughs the sane;
+  Round sit the sons of folly.
+
+
+
+IMITATED FROM THE JAPANESE.
+
+  "..........................
+  I have forgotten to forget."--Japanese Song.
+                                Tr. by R.H. Stoddard.
+
+The morning flies, the evening dies;
+  The heat of noon, the chills of night,
+Are but the dull varieties
+  Of Phoebus' and of Phoebe's flight--
+Are but the dull varieties
+  Of ruined night and ruined day;
+They bring no pleasure to mine eyes,
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+I am the man who cannot love,
+  Yet once my heart was bright as thine,
+The suns that rove, the moons that move,
+  No longer make its chambers shine;
+No more they light the spirit face
+  That lit my night and made my day;
+No maiden feet with mine keep pace
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+O, lost! I think I see thee stand,
+  By Mary's ivied chapel door,
+Where once thou stood'st, and with thy hand
+  Wring pious pain, as once before.
+Impatient, crude philosopher,
+  I scorned thy gentle wisdom's ray.
+All vain thy moistened eyelids were;
+  I sent my soul and thee away.
+
+A causeless wrath, a mood of pride,
+  Some tears of thine, and all was done;
+On alien plains I travelled wide
+  And thou wert soon a veiled nun.
+Not long a veiled nun, but soon
+  Unveiled of linen and of clay;
+But I am March while thou art June,
+  For I have sent my soul away.
+
+And now when I would love thee well,
+  There sits alone within my breast
+Calm guilt that dare not from its hell
+  Look up and wish the thing thou art.
+I see a dreadful gulf of fright
+  Beneath my falling life; and gray,
+Thy light becomes the ghost of light
+  Above it as it falls away.
+
+I have a life, a voice, a form,
+  A skilful hand to lift and turn,
+I have emotions like a storm,
+  A brain to throb, a heart to burn;
+But that which Jesus' blood can save,
+  Which looks toward eternal day,
+Is gone before me to the grave.--
+  It was my soul I sent away.
+
+The past is past, and o'er its woe
+  It is no comfort to repine;
+But I would wage my life to know
+  Thy feet in heaven keep pace with mine.
+I have no hope, I will not weep,
+  The only wish that wish I may
+Is this, that I may find asleep
+  The soul I thought I sent away.
+
+
+
+THE KNIGHT ERRANT.
+
+CLOUD TO WIND
+O blow, blow high, for I descend;
+Friend must go to meet his friend,
+If to earth you tie your feet
+You and I will never meet.
+
+WIND
+Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;
+I exceed my usual gait.
+Ha! this hill-top is sublime,
+But it makes me pant to climb.
+
+CLOUD
+Once again, a little space,
+Meet we in this Alpine place,
+Before you leap adown the vale
+Or I along my pathway sail.
+
+WIND
+Then let our little bell of time
+Ring onward with a chatty chime--
+How we have fled o'er earth and sky,
+And what you saw and what saw I.
+
+CLOUD
+O, I from off my couch serene,
+Woods, meadows, towns and seas have seen;
+And in one wood, beside a cave,
+A hermit kneeling by a grave:--
+The which I felt so touched to see
+I wept a shower of sympathy.
+And in one mead I saw, methought,
+A brave, dark-armored knight, who fought
+A shining-dragon in a mist,
+That, mixed with flames did roll and twist
+Out of the beast's red mouth--a breath
+Of choking, blinding, sulphurous death,
+On which I shot my thickest rain
+And made the conflict fair again.
+And from one town I heard the swell
+Of a loud, melancholy bell,
+That past me rose in flames of sound
+And up to Saint Cecilia wound.
+And on one sea I saw a ship
+Bend out its full-fed sails and slip
+So light, so gladly o'er the tide
+I could not help but look inside--
+Its passengers were groom and bride.
+I floated o'er them snowily,
+They felt my beauty in the sky,
+Their eyes, their souls, their joy were one,
+I would not cross their happy sun.
+I love this life of calm and use--
+No bonds but windy ribbons loose,
+No gifts to ask but all to give,
+Secure Elysium fugitive.
+
+WIND
+Your life, though, drinks not half the wine
+Of active gladness that doth mine;
+I spread my wings and stretch my arms
+Over a dozen hedged farms;
+I breast steep hills, through pine-groves rush,
+Rock birds' nests, yet no fledgling crush,
+Tossing the grain-fields everywhere,
+The trees, the grass, the school-girl's hair,
+Whirling away her laugh the while--
+(We breezes love the children's smile);
+And then I lag and wander down
+Among the roofs and dust of town,
+Bearing cool draughts from lake and moor
+To fan the faces of the poor,
+While sick babes, stifled half to death,
+Grow rosy at my country breath.
+I lent a shoulder to your ship;
+I moaned with that sad hermit's lip;
+I helped disperse the dragon's mist;
+And some bell's voice, 'twas yours I wist,
+I handed up to winds on high
+Who wing a loftier flight than I.
+But, hark! a rider leaves the vale.
+
+CLOUD
+Ah, yes, I catch the gleam of mail.
+
+RANDOLPH
+O speak again ye voiced ghosts!
+I heard afar your cheerful boasts.
+And, if I doubt not, ye are they
+That here have met me many a day.
+
+WIND
+We are they.
+
+CLOUD, (echoing)
+                       We are they.
+But whither now doth Randolph stray,
+And why the mail, and why the steed?
+
+RANDOLPH
+This is my father's mail indeed,
+Bequeathed with message to his son:
+"Stand straight in it and yield to none."
+
+WIND
+But whither off and why away?
+
+RANDOLPH
+Off to the world; I cannot stay--
+That world I have so often viewed
+Here from this upper solitude--
+This bulwark barring strife and trade.
+Love calls me off. I love a maid,
+Loving her silently and long,
+Learning for her to hate the wrong,
+    Learning for her to seek the right,
+To hew at sloth and faint resolve
+And thoughts that round but self revolve,
+And pray for grace and virtue--wings
+That bear men to the highest things,
+    Enwrapt and rising into light.
+For her, for her, O Cloud and Wind!
+I trained my limbs and taught my mind,
+Ran, wrestled, clomb, and learned to bend
+The cross-bow with each village friend;
+And by my hermit-guardian spent
+The earliest dimness morning lent,
+And the faint torch that evening bore,
+In science and in saintly lore,
+Reading the stars and signs of rain,
+Noting each tree and herb and grain;
+Each bird that flutters through the leaves,
+Each beast, each fish that green lake cleaves,
+The curious deeds Devotion paints
+In missals and in lives of saints,
+And every olden subtle trick
+Of grammar, logic, rhetoric.
+But most on chivalry I turned
+A torrent eagerness, and burned
+To hear of wrong repaired, or read
+The working of some famous deed,
+Like those I dreamt that I could do
+When what I set myself was through:
+Vexed lest the inward clock of fate
+That ticked "Too soon!" might tick "Too late!"
+But now that dial points the hour
+When I must test my gathered power,
+And leave my books and leave my dreams
+Of steeds and towers and knightly themes,
+Of tourney gay and woodland quest,
+Of Perceval and Perceforest,
+Of Richard, Arthur, Charlemain,
+Amadis and the Cid of Spain--
+Must leave them all and seek alone
+Some grand adventure of my own.
+
+CLOUD
+Yet if you seek and cannot find
+Or fail to work what you designed,
+Be it but as the steadfast sun
+Who bright or dim his course doth run,
+And last doth reach as far a spot
+Whether he seems to shine or not.
+
+RANDOLPH
+The height, the fynial of my aim
+Is _to be worthy of her name_.
+
+CLOUD
+You mortals are a curious race--
+More whirled by passions, hot in chase
+Of passions, than myself am whirled
+When tempests tug me o'er the world;
+I cannot understand your ways.
+We clouds live our divinest days
+Beneath great sunny depths of sky,
+High above all that you think high,
+Drifting through sunset's surf of gold,
+Dawn-lakes and moonlight's clear waves cold,
+In realms so distant, chill and lone,
+That Love, impatient, leaves the throne
+To meditative Amity.
+
+RANDOLPH
+So would my guardian have it be,
+So flowed his constant voice to me,
+Of those to make me one, he sought,
+Who watch from mountain towers of thought,
+Or wandering into paths apart
+Pursue the lonely star of art.
+
+WIND
+But you would rather love and do.
+Well said, so much the wiser you!
+But let your love be false as maid's,
+Your every fire a flame that fades--
+A word, a smile, an easy thing
+To fledge and easy taking wing.
+Kiss every lip, as tired of rest
+As I am now. I'm off to west
+Good-bye, and some day when you're hot
+I'll meet you cool.
+
+CLOUD
+And I should not
+Delay my showers so long as this.
+God speed! Good-bye!
+
+RANDOLPH
+                     Good-bye.
+                               I miss
+Their wonderful companionship.
+So onward seems the world to slip.
+Now one glance backward firmly cast;
+Thy next foot forward bears thee past
+The mountain's crest. Ah, I behold
+Our reckless river leaping bold
+Down all its ledges. And I see
+The castle where Elaine must be.
+Lo, in yon window sits she oft.--
+From yon green maze of willows soft
+I hear our hermitage's bell.
+Sweet sound, sweet many scenes, farewell.
+        Elaine! Elaine!
+
+
+
+CUJUS ANIMAE PROPICIETUR DEUS.
+
+
+A quiet, old cathedral folds apart
+  At Oxford, from the world of colleges
+A world of tombs, and shades them in its heart;
+  Contrasting with the busy knowledges
+This wisdom, that they all shall end in peace.--
+"Vex you not, slaves of truth! there is release."
+
+There every window is a monument
+  Emblazoned: every slab along the pave,
+Each effigy with knees devoutly bent,--
+  Or prone, with folded gauntlets,--is a grave.
+Unnoticed down the sands of Kronos run:
+Slow move the sombre shadows with the sun.
+
+Hard by a Norman shaft, along the floor
+  A portraiture on ancient bronze designed
+In Academic hood and robes of yore,
+  Commemorates some by-gone lord of mind.
+Mournful the face and dignified the head:
+A man who pondered much upon the dead.
+
+Repose unbroken now his dust surrounds,
+  He is with those whom mortals honor most.
+Respect and tender sighs and holy sounds
+  Of choirs, and the presence of the Holy Ghost
+And fellow spirits and shadowy mem'ries dear
+Make for his rest a sacred atmosphere.
+
+Sometime a gentle and profound Divine,
+  Father revered of spiritual sons.
+He died. They laid him here. About his shrine,
+  Of what they wrote this remnant legend runs:
+"Nascitur omnis homo peccato mortuus
+Una post cineres virtus vivere sola facit."[A]
+
+There as I breathed the lesson of the dead:
+Sudden the rich bells chorussed overhead:
+  "O be not of the throng ephemeral
+    To whom to-day is fame, to-morrow fate,
+  Proud of some robe no statelier than a pall,
+  Mad for some wreath of cypress funeral--
+    A phantom generation fatuate.
+Stand thou aside and stretch a hand to save,
+Virtue alone revives beyond the grave."
+
+[Footnote A: "Every man is born dead in sin. Virtue alone brings life
+eternal."]
+
+
+
+STANCHEZZA.
+
+EARLY LINES
+
+    Lo Zephyr floats, on pinions delicate,
+Past the dark belfry, where a deep-toned bell
+Sways back and forth, Grief tolling out the knell
+    For thee, my friend, so young and yet so great.
+    Dead--thou art dead. The destiny of men
+Is ever thus, like waves upon the main
+To rise, grow great, fall with a crash and wane,
+    While still another grows to wane again,
+    Dead--thou art dead. Would that I too were gone
+And that the grass which rustles on thy grave
+Might also over mine forever wave
+    Made living by the death it grew upon.
+I ask not Orpheus-like, that Pluto give
+Thy soul to earth. I would not have thee live.
+
+
+
+PRAETERITA EX INSTANTIBUS.
+
+How strange it is that, in the after age,--
+   When Time's clepsydra will be nearer dry--
+   That all the accustomed things we now pass by
+Unmarked, because familiar, shall engage
+The antique reverence of men to be;
+   And that quaint interest which prompts the sage
+   The silent fathoms of the past to gauge
+Shall keep alive our own past memory,
+Making all great of ours--the garb we wear--
+   Our voiceless cities, reft of roof and spire--
+   The very skull whence now the eye of fire
+Glances bright sign of what the soul can dare.
+So shall our annals make an envied lore,
+And men will say, 'Thus did the men of yore.'
+
+
+
+SUNRISE.
+
+EARLY LINES
+
+I saw the shining-limbed Apollo stand,
+    Exultant, on the rim of Orient,
+  And well and mightily his bow he bent,
+And unseen-swift the arrow left his hand.
+  Far on it sped, as did those elder ones
+    That long ago shed plague upon the Greek--
+    Far on--and pierced the side of Night, who weak
+And out of breath with fright, fled to his sons,
+  The nether ghosts; and lo! his jewelled robe
+No more did shade a sleep-encircled world;
+And thereupon the faery legions furled
+  The silk of silence, and the wheeling globe
+Spun freer on its grand, accustomed way,
+While all things living rose to hail the day.
+
+
+
+REALITY.
+
+A FANCY
+
+Fade lesser dreams, that, built of tenderness,
+Young trust and tinted hopes, have led me long.
+These jagged ways ye whiled will pain me less
+Than hath your falsity. Your spirit song
+Sent magic wafted up and down along
+The waves of wind to me. Your world was real.
+There was no ruder world that I could feel.
+I lived in dreams and thought you all I would,
+Nor knew what dread, bare truth is doomed to rise,
+When love and hope and all but one far Good,
+Like sunset lands feel the cold night of lies.
+
+Go, sweetest visions, die amid my tears,
+For hence, nor cheered, nor blinded, must I seek
+That larger dream that cannot fade; though years
+Of leaden days and leagues of by-path bleak
+Must intervene, with austere sadness gray,
+Fade dimmer! lest in agony I turn,
+And heartsick seek ye, though the Fates shriek "Nay!"
+And the wroth heavens with judgment lightnings burn.
+
+Go useless lesser dreams. And where they were,
+Rise, grave aerial Good! Thy texture's true.
+There is no good can die. "No ill," says Time, "can bear,
+However beautiful, my long, long earnest view."
+
+
+
+SEARCHINGS.
+
+(EARLY LINES.)
+
+Soul, thou hast lived before. Thy wing
+  Hath swept the ancient folds of light
+Which once wrapt stilly everything,
+  Before the advent of a Night.
+
+O thou art blind and thou art dead
+  Unto the knowledge that was thine.
+A longing and a dreamy dread
+  Alone oft shadow the divine.
+
+Full loud calls past eternity,
+  But Lethe's murmur stills its roar,
+The one vague truth that reaches thee
+  Is this--that thou hast lived before.
+
+Home often comes some voice of eld
+  Confused and low--a broken surge
+By fate and distance half withheld--
+  Rich in linked sadness like a dirge.
+
+The muffled, great bell Silence clangs
+  His solemn call, and thou, O soul!
+Dost stir in sense's torpid fangs,
+  Like the blind magnet, toward a pole.
+
+The deep, vast, swelling organ-sound;
+  The cadence of an evening flute,
+Bring oft those ancient joys around
+  To linger till the notes are mute.
+
+And when thy hushed breathing fills
+  The shrine of quiet reverence,
+Then, too, a freeing angel stills
+  The clanking of the chains of sense.
+
+But nearest to that former life
+  Another power calleth thee,
+Away from care, away from strife,
+  Toward what thou wast--infinity.
+
+And in thee, soul, the deepest chord
+  Thrills to a strain rung from above;
+That strain is bound within a word,
+  A sole, sweet word, and it is--Love.
+
+Love--yet it cannot set thee free
+  To sweep again those folds of light,
+It torches but a part to thee
+  And dim, though fair. The rest is night.
+
+As the fine structure of a man
+  Fits into life's great world, foremade,
+So too it shadoweth the plan
+  Of ages hidden in the shade.
+
+And thou hast lived before; hast known
+  The depth of every mystery,
+Has dwelt in Nature, hid, alone
+  And winged the blue aetherial sea;
+
+Hast looked upon the ends of space;
+  Hast visited each rolling star,--
+Before Time measured forth his pace,
+  Scythe-armed, on a terrestrial war.
+
+
+
+HOMER.
+
+(EARLY LINES.)
+
+Time, with his constant touch, has half erased
+The memory, but he cannot dim the fame
+  Of one who best of all has paraphrased
+The tale of waters with a tale of flame,
+Yet left us but his accents and his name.
+
+Upon that life, the sun of history
+Shines not, but Legend, like a moon in mist,
+  Sheds over it a weird uncertainty,
+In which all figures wave and actions twist,
+So that a man may read them as he list.
+
+We know not if he trod some Theban street,
+And sought compassion on his aged woe,
+  We know not if on Chian sand his feet
+Left footprints once; but only this we know,
+How the high ways of fame those footprints show.
+
+Along the border of the restless sea,
+The lonely thinker must have loved to roam,
+  We feel his soul wrapt in its majesty,
+And he can speak in words that drip with foam,
+As though himself a deep, and depths his home.
+
+Hark! under all and through and over all,
+Runs on the cadence of the changeful sea;
+  Now pleasantly the graceful surges fall,
+And now they mutter in an angry key
+Ever, throughout their changes, grand and free.
+
+How sternly sang he of Achilles' might,
+How sweetly of the sweet Andromache,
+  How low his lyre when Ajax prays for light;
+(Well might he bend that lyre in sympathy
+For also great, and also blind was he.)
+
+We almost see the nod of sternbrowed Jove,
+And feel Olympus shake; we almost hear
+  The melodies that Greek youths interwove
+In paean to Apollo, and the clear,
+Full voice of Nestor, sounding far and near.
+
+A dignity of sadness filled his heart,
+That sadness, born of immortality,
+  Which they alone who live in art
+Feel in its sweetness and its mystery,
+Half-filled already with infinity.
+
+Yea, Zeus was wise when he decreed him blind,
+And wiser still when he decreed him poor;
+  For insight grew as outer sight declined,
+And want overrode the ills it could not cure,
+Else rhapsody had lacked its lay most pure.
+
+
+
+OUR UNDERLYING EXISTENCE.
+
+O Fool, that wisdom dost despise,
+  Thou knowest not, thou canst not guess
+Another part of thee is wise
+  And silent sees thy foolishness.
+
+Yet, fool, how dare I pity thee
+  Because my heart reveres the sages;
+The fool lies also deep in me;
+  We all are one beneath the ages.
+
+
+
+TO ______.
+
+"Creation--God's kind giving--
+  Continues: did not at one Adam end.
+New realms start open to each generation,
+  Each man receives some gift, some revelation:
+I, in this late age living,
+  The gift, the new-creation of a friend.
+
+
+
+TO A DEBUTANTE.
+
+Thou who smilest in thy freshness,
+  Bright as bud in morning dew;
+Keep this thought in thy heart's bower
+"Ever turn, like sunward flower,
+  To the Good, the Fair, the True."
+
+
+
+A PROBLEM.
+
+Once, in the University of Life,
+_Remember_ and _Inquire_, my old Professors,
+A question hard requested me to solve:
+"How can man's love be great and be eternal
+If Right forewarns he may be called to leave it:
+Whether should Love rule Duty and be all,
+Or Duty turn his back on sweet Love crying?"
+
+I paused--then spoke, not having what to answer:
+"Ye know, Professors, how to utter problems
+And man perplex with his own elements.
+Yet I believe the ways ye teach are perfect
+And able are you what ye set to solve.--
+Admiring you, however, aids me nothing,
+I speak because I have not what to answer."
+"Ponder," they said, those quiet, sage Professors,
+
+I had seen Love--O Vision, I was near thee
+When Death refused that I should speak with thee!
+And I had seen her soft eyes' trustful brightness
+Wondrous look down into the soul of many
+And lead it out and make it of eternity.
+Yes, truly, in her look men find true being!--
+What ruin if such being must be withered!
+
+I had seen Duty--soldier of his God--
+Of Virtue and of Order sentinel--
+Grand his firm countenance with obedience.
+His troth to Love would everlasting be
+Or nothing. What then should commanding orders
+Bid him have done with her and all renounce?
+How can he look on Love and know this shadow?
+
+"I see no answer," answered I dejected,
+"Except that either Love must be abased,
+Or he resign perfection in his calling."
+
+"Nay," said they, but by strange, clear apparatus
+(Whereof within that College there is much)
+Gave illustration--paraphrased as follows:
+"Thou hast not reckoned for eternity.
+The True fears not Forever: fear thou not.
+Duty and Love are noble man and wife
+(If otherwise thou see them 'tis illusion),
+'Tis she sends Duty forth with dear embrace
+And proudest of his battle through her tears
+Encourages: 'Regard me not but strike!'
+And 'If thou must depart alas, depart!
+Follow thy noblest, I am ever true!'
+He strikes and presses, sending back his heart
+As forward moves his foot on the arena;
+Or marches bravely far and far, until
+Hope of return as mortal disappears:
+This should true soul endure, though everlasting--
+But then, besides, we know that One has mercy."
+
+
+
+TO A FELLOW-STUDENT OF KANT.
+
+The sweet star of the Bethlehem night
+  Beauteous guides and true,
+And still, to me and you
+  With only local, legendary light.
+
+For us who hither look with eyes afar
+  From constellations of philosophy,
+All light is from the Cradle; the true star,
+  Serene o'er distance, in the Life we see.
+
+
+
+TO THE SOUL.
+
+AN ODE OF EVOLUTION
+
+O lark aspire!
+Aspire forever, in thy morning sky!--
+Forever soul, beat bravely, gladly, higher,
+And sing and sing that sadness is a lie.
+
+Forever, soul, achieve!
+Droop not an instant into sloth and rest.
+Live in a changeless moment of the best
+And lower heights to Heaven forgotten leave.
+
+Man still will strive.
+Delight of battle leaped within his sires.
+They laughed at death; and Life was all alive:
+In him not blood it seeks, but vast desires.
+
+He wakens from a dream
+Reviews the forms he fought in ages gone--
+He or his ancestors, their shapes are one:--
+And also of himself the forms he battled seem.
+
+He sees the truth!
+"I wrestled with myself, and rose to strength.
+Still be that progress mine!--I see at length
+All World, all Soul are one, all ages youth!"
+
+
+
+THE PALMER.
+
+O solemn clime to which my spirit looks,
+No more will I the path to thee defer,--
+Worn here with search--a too sad wanderer,--
+The dance-tune spent, surpassed the sacred books,
+And spurned that city's walls where I did plan
+A thousand lives, unwitting I was pent;
+As though my thousand lives could be content
+With any vista in the bounds of man!
+
+Eternal clime, our exile is from thee!
+Flood o'er thy portals like the tender morn!--
+Receive! receive! and let us new be born!
+We are thy substance--spirit of thy degree--
+Mist of thy bliss--fire, love, infinity!
+And only by some mischance from thee torn.
+
+
+
+THE ARTIST'S PRAYER.
+
+I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
+  O Life and flying Unity
+Of Loveliness! Must man despair
+  Forever in his chase of thee!
+
+When snowy clouds flash silver-gilt,
+  Then feel I that thou art on high!
+When fire o'er all the west is spilt,
+  Flames at its heart thy majesty.
+
+Thy beauty basks on distant hills;
+  It smiles in eve's wine-colored sea;
+It shakes its light on leaves and rills;
+  In calm ideals it mocks at me;
+
+Thy glances strike from many a lake
+  That lines through woodland scapes a sheen;
+Yet to thine eyes I never wake:--
+  They glance, but they remain unseen.
+
+I know thee not, O Spirit fair!
+  Thou fillest heaven: the stars are thee:
+Whatever fleets with beauty rare
+  Fleets radiant from thy mystery.
+
+Forever thou art near my grasp;
+  Thy touches pass in twilight air;
+Yet still--thy shapes elude my clasp:--
+  I know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
+
+O Ether, proud, and vast, and great,
+  Above the legions of the stars!
+To this thou art not adequate;--
+  Nor rainbow's glorious scimitars.
+
+I know thee not, thou Spirit sweet!
+  I chained pursue, while thou art free.
+Sole by the smile I sometimes meet
+  I know thou, Vast One, knowest me.
+
+In old religions hadst thou place:
+  Long, long, O Vision, our pursuit!
+Yea, monad, fish and childlike brute
+  Through countless ages dreamt thy grace.
+
+Grey nations felt thee o'er them tower;
+  Some clothed thee in fantastic dress;
+Some thought thee as the unknown Power,
+  I, e'er the unknown Loveliness.
+
+To all, thou wert as harps of joy;
+  To bard and sage their fulgent sun:
+To priests their mystic life's employ;
+  But unto me the Lovely One.
+
+Veils clothed thy might; veils draped thy charm;
+  The might they tracked, but I the grace;
+They learnt all forces were thine Arm,
+  I that all beauty was thy Face.
+
+Night spares us little. Wanderers we.
+  Our rapt delights, our wisdoms rare
+But shape our darknesses of thee,--
+  We know thee not, thou Spirit fair!
+
+Would that thine awful Peerlessness
+  An hour could shine o'er heaven and earth
+And I the maddening power possess
+  To drink the cup,--O Godlike birth!
+
+All life impels me to thy search:
+  Without thee, yea, to live were null;
+Still shall I make the dawn thy Church,
+  And pray thee "God the Beautiful."
+
+
+
+THE WIND-CHANT.
+
+The Soul, the inner, immortal Ruler.--_Hindu Upanishad._
+
+"Witch-like, see it planets roll,
+  Hear it from the cradle call--
+Nature?--Nature is the soul;
+  That alone is aught and all.
+Grieved or broken though the song,
+  The fount of music is elate,
+For the Soul is ever strong,
+  For the Soul is ever great."
+
+"For the Soul is ever great!"--
+  Songless sat I by a grove,
+Pines, like funeral priests of state,
+  Chanted solemn rites above.
+Dark and glassy far below,
+  The River in his proud vale slept,
+Eve with olive-shafted bow
+  Like a stealthy archer crept.
+
+Why, O Masters, then I thought,
+  Is the mantle yours, of song?
+Why with hours like this do not
+  Glorious strains to _all_ belong?
+
+Why _all_ choosing, why _all_ ban?
+  Why are lords, and why are slaves
+And the most of gentle man
+  Clipt and harried to their graves?
+Foiled and ruined, masses die
+  That one fair and noble be.
+Why are all not Masters? Why
+  So unjust is Life's decree?
+
+Why are poor and why are rich?
+  Why are slaves and why are lords?
+Unto this the splendid niche:
+  Those caste damneth in their words.
+Do not powers of evil reign?
+  Do not flashes' storms make dread?
+Should not He of Life again
+  Bring the just peace of the dead?
+
+Oft the Pines, like priests of state,
+  Have spoke the heavenly word to man;
+So above me as I sate
+  AEol voices chanting ran:
+"For the Soul is ever great
+  For the Soul is ever strong;
+In the murmurer it can wait--
+  In the shortest sight see long.
+
+"Not a yearning but is proof
+  Thou art yet its aim to own:
+Thou the warp art and the woof,
+  Not the woof or warp alone.
+Couldst thou drop the lead within
+  To the bottom of thyself,
+All the World--and God--and Sin--
+  And Force--and Ages--were that Elf.
+
+"With thy breathing goes all breath,
+  With thy striving goes all strife,
+In thy being, deep as death,
+  Lies the largeness of all life.
+The world is but thy deepest wish,
+  The phases thereof are thy dream;
+They that hunt or plough or fish
+  Are of thee the out-turned seam.
+
+"Helpless, thou hast every power,
+  In thee greatness perfect sleeps--
+And thou comest to thy dower,
+  And thy strength perennial keeps.
+Stir the Aeol harp elate!
+  Make a triumph of its song,
+For the Soul is ever great,
+  For the Soul is ever strong!"
+
+Rushings cool as of a breeze
+  Amened to their litany;
+In their pure sky smiled the trees;
+  And no more was mystery.
+Clear I saw the Soul at work,
+  All through fair Saint Francis vale,
+Beauty-making; like a dirk
+  Peering bright amid the mail.
+
+Vital the dark River wound,
+  Glassy in his cool repose;
+Many a bird-like country, sound
+  As the Soul-voice upward rose.
+Then as in a glass I knew
+  _I_ was vale and town and stream,
+Shadowed grove and northern blue
+  And the stars that 'gan to gleam.
+
+This was I, and all was mine.
+  Mine--yea, ours--the grace and might,
+With the lordship of a line
+  That laughs at any earthly knight.
+Ah, what music then I heard!
+  What conceptions then I saw!
+Master-thoughts within me stirred,
+  And there flashed the Master-law.
+Next them did the greatest shapes
+  Of Angelo crowd in a dream:--
+Vain the grace that marble drapes;
+  A village mason's these did seem.
+
+But--the light from Angelo's eye
+  That so deeply eager burns
+With its fierce sincerity!--
+  Ah, the ancient saw returns:
+"Greater artist than his art;"
+  Meaning: greater yet than he
+Is the vast outfeeling Heart
+  In him lying like the sea.
+
+With a sudden eagle-stroke
+  How this truth can lift one wide.
+Then he sees the sublime joke
+  Of humility and pride;
+For the Soul is _ever_ great,
+  The one Soul within us all:
+One the tone that shakes a state
+  With the helpless cradle-call.
+
+Yes, that wonder of the Soul
+  Is the riddle of it all,
+And the answer, and the whole,
+  Bright with joy that rends the pall.
+Brother-man, I pray you stand,
+  Hear a minstrel; but the song
+If you do not understand,
+  Pass and do not do it wrong.
+
+
+
+TO CYBEL DEAR.
+
+LOVE-SONG.
+
+Though others plight for pride or gain,
+  And mix the cup of love;
+Theirs be the duller troth, the stain;
+  Ours the sweet stars approve.
+My riches, love, they shall be thou;
+  My pride, thy love for me:
+No diamond fairer decks a brow
+  Than thine sincerity.
+
+Though ours be tenements, not towers,
+  Theirs, lawns and halls of ease,
+Beloved, 'tis heaven, not gold, is ours,
+  And the realities.
+No sordid wish doth make us one,
+  But love, love, love.
+O surely, surely, that is done
+  Which the sweet stars approve.
+
+
+
+THE STILL TRYST.
+
+How love transcends our mortal sphere,
+  And sees again the spirit-world,
+Forgot so daily. Thou art here;--
+  I know thee, sweet--though fair impearled
+Thy face in a far atmosphere
+    To others,--hearing in the sea
+    My love a-crying up to thee.
+
+Thou by the surf, I on the lake:--
+  Yet in the _real_ world we meet;
+And O, for thy endeared sake,
+  Love, all I am is at thy feet.
+With thy life let me breathing take,
+    And through all nature do thou see
+    My love a-crying up to thee.
+
+And with thine eyes shall I pursue
+  Yon shower-veils from the sunset flying,
+Blown mid clouds white and lurid-blue
+  That crowd the rainbow's arch, defying
+Him who in red death shoots them through.
+    Look with me; in this pageant see
+    My love all glowing up to thee.
+
+See what I see, hear what I hear,
+  I too am with thee by the wave--
+One all the day, the hour, the year:
+  Our trust of love shall be so brave,
+We shall deny that death is here
+  Or any power in the grave.
+    I know thee; thou canst love like this;
+    Be ours the endless spirit-kiss.
+
+Dusk falls. How purely shines that star,
+  Concealed while day was in the sky;
+Life, love and thou not mortal are,
+  Though atheist noon your world deny.
+Dusk falls:--though in the west a bar
+    Of bloom on evening's pure cheek be;
+    In beauty thy love cries to me.
+
+
+
+THE CHICKIEBIDS.
+
+The chickiebids are in their nest
+    Overhead,--
+Dimpled shapes of rosy rest
+    Curled a-bed.
+Night has sung her spell, and thrown
+    Her dark net round
+Their heads; their pearly ears have grown
+    Deaf to all other sound.
+
+O of me how you are part,
+    Babies mine!
+Your hearts are children of my heart.
+    The inner sign
+Of my eyes lurks in your eyes,
+    And your soul,
+That so brims with Paradise,
+    Stirs what wonders roll
+Unsuspected in myself,
+    Who had thought
+Life half death, till childhood's elf--
+    Sign of angels men shall be--
+    Came and taught
+A youth eterne within futurity.
+
+
+
+THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK SELLER.
+
+Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  Low the sunset midst thee lies;
+And from the wild Reservation
+  Evening's breeze begins to rise.
+Faint the Konoronkwa chorus
+  Drifts across the current strong;
+Spirit-like the parish steeple
+  Stands thy ancient walls among.
+
+Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  How the sun amidst thee burns!
+Village of the Praying Nation,
+  Thy dark child to thee returns.
+All day through the pale-face city,
+  Silent, selling beaded wares,
+I have wandered with my basket,
+  Lone, excepting for their stares!
+
+They are white men; we are Indians;
+  What a gulf their stares proclaim!
+They are mounting; we are dying;
+  All our heritage they claim.
+We are dying, dwindling, dying,
+  Strait and smaller grows our bound;
+They are mounting up to heaven
+  And are pressing all around.
+
+_Thou_ art ours,--little remnant,
+  Ours through countless thousand years--
+Part of the old Indian world,
+  Thy breath from far the Indian cheers.
+Back to thee, O Kanawaki!
+  Let the rapids dash between
+Indian homes and white men's manners--
+  Kanawaki and Lachine!
+
+O my dear!--O Knife-and-Arrows!
+  Thou art bronzed, thy limbs are lithe;
+How I laugh as through the crosse-game,
+  Slipst thou like red elder withe.
+Thou art none of these pale-faces!
+  When with thee I'll happy feel,
+For thou art the Mohawk warrior
+  From thy scalp-lock to thy heel.
+
+Sweet the Konoronkwa chorus
+  Floats across the current strong;
+Clear behold the parish steeple
+  Rise the ancient walls among.
+Speed us deftly, noiseless paddle:
+  In my shawl my bosom burns!
+Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
+  Thine own child to thee returns.
+
+
+
+MONTREAL.
+
+Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!
+  Spread wide thine ample robes of state;
+  The heralds cry that thou art great,
+And proud are thy young sons of thee.
+Mistress of half a continent,
+  Thou risest from thy girlhood's rest;
+  We see thee conscious heave thy breast
+And feel thy rank and thy descent.
+
+Sprung of the saint and chevalier!
+  And with the Scarlet Tunic wed!
+  Mount Royal's crown upon thy head,
+And--past thy footstool--broad and clear
+  St. Lawrence sweeping to the sea;
+  Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!
+
+
+
+ALL HAIL TO A NIGHT.
+
+All hail to a night when the stars stand bright
+  Like gold dust in the sky;
+With a crisp track long, and an old time song,
+  And the old time company.
+
+_Cho._--All hail to a night when the Northern Light
+          A welcome to us waves,
+        Then the snowshoer goes o'er the ice and the snows,
+          And the frosty tempest braves.
+
+The snowshoer's tent is the firmament;
+  His breath the rush of the breeze.
+Earth's loveliest sprite, the frost queen at night,
+  Lures him silvery through the trees.
+
+Yes, the snowshoer's queen is winter serene,
+  We meet her in the glade.
+Dark-blue-eyed, a fair, pale bride,
+  In her jewelled veil arrayed.
+
+Let us up then and toast to the uttermost
+  Fair winter! we knights of the shoe,
+And in circle again join hearts with the men
+  That of old time toasted her too.
+
+
+
+THE PIONEERS.
+
+All you who on your acres broad,
+  Know nature in its charms,
+With pictured dale and fruitful sod,
+  And herds on verdant farms,
+Remember those who fought the trees
+  And early hardships braved,
+And so for us of all degrees
+  All from the forest saved.
+
+And you who stroll in leisured ease
+  Along your city squares,
+Thank those who there have fought the trees,
+  And howling wolves and bears.
+They met the proud woods in the face,
+  Those gloomy shades and stern;
+Withstood and conquered, and your race
+  Supplants the pine and fern.
+
+Where'er we look, their work is there;
+  Now land and men are free:
+On every side the view grows fair,
+  And perfect yet shall be.
+The credit's theirs, who all day fought
+  The stubborn giant hosts:
+We have but built on what they wrought;
+  Theirs were the honor-posts.
+
+Though plain their lives and rude their dress,
+  No common men were they;
+Some came for scorn of slavishness
+  That ruled lands far away;
+And some came here for conscience' sake,
+  For Empire and the King;
+And some for Love a home to make,
+  Their dear ones here to bring.
+
+First staunch men left, for Britain's name,
+  The South's prosperity;
+And Highland clans from Scotland came--
+  Their sires had aye been free;
+And England oft her legions gave
+  To found a race of pluck,
+And ever came the poor and brave
+  And took the axe and struck.
+
+Each hewed, and saw a dream-like home!--
+  Hewed on--a settlement!
+Struck hard--through mists the spire and dome
+  The distant rim indent!
+So honored be they midst your ease,
+  And give them well their due,
+Honor to those who fought the trees
+  And made a land for you!
+
+
+
+CANADIAN FAITH.
+
+I.
+
+In the name of many martyrs
+Who have died to save their country,
+Poured their fresh blood bravely for it,
+And our soil thus consecrated;
+In the name of Brock the peerless,
+In the name of Spartan Dollard,
+Wolfe and Montcalm--world's and ours--
+The high spirit of Tecumseh;
+Of the eight who fell at Cut Knife,
+Bright in early bloom and courage,
+When our youth leapt up for trial;
+In the names of thousand others
+Whom we proudly keep remembered
+As our saviours from the Indian,
+From the savage and the rebel,
+Or from Hampton, or Montgomery
+By Quebec's old faithful fortress;
+And at Chrysler's Farm and Lundy;
+And upon the lakes and ocean;
+Or who lived us calmer service;--
+Many is the roll, and sacred;--
+In their names a voice is calling,
+  Through this native land of ours!
+
+Hark, for we have need to listen!
+All our martyrs warn and shame us.
+Do not let them see us cowards!
+Why are all these faint-heart whispers
+In the very hour of progress?
+
+Tattles of disquiet vex us,
+And among us are new enemies--
+Cowards, weak, ignoble whiners,
+Esaus, placemen, low-browed livers,
+Traitors, salesmen of a nation.
+Some would have us drop despondent
+And convince us we are nothing.
+(Us of whom ten thousand heroes
+Hitherto to here have conquered
+And we _must_ be faithful to them!)
+Some are hypocrites and cynics;
+Some would wreck us; some would leave us;
+Even in the hour of peril
+Would the hand of many fail us;
+They would almost make to falter
+  Our old simple faith in God.
+
+Therefore this appeal, O brothers,
+Earnestly do I adjure you
+  To believe and trust your country.
+
+By the glorious star of England,
+Shining mast-high o'er all oceans;
+In the name of France the glorious;
+In the world-proud name of Europe;
+Whence you draw your great traditions;
+  I adjure you trust your country!
+
+By all noble thoughts of manhood;
+By the toil of your forefathers;
+By their sacrifices for you;
+By the Loyalist tradition;
+And your own heart's generous instincts;
+  I adjure you be Canadian.
+
+
+II.
+
+"Is there a place, a work, a rank
+  Our Canada is called to fill:--
+She has but struggled till she sank
+  Hers is it but to toil and till:
+No seat among the peoples ours."--
+So speaks the Tempter in our bowers.
+So soft he presses on his bonds:--
+But hark! a softer voice responds:
+
+"Behold, Canadians, this your place,
+Your task, your rank, in earth _and heaven_
+To make you an especial race
+  To God and human progress given."
+Too holy is the task for jeers,
+Too lofty to permit of fears.
+
+Ignoble is the fear of loss;
+  The call of honour _all_ demands!
+What thought those generous hearts of dross
+  Who sowed our races in these lands?
+Who blames the Loyalist of pelf?
+Champlain, what cared he for himself?
+
+Ignoble is the dread of harm:--
+  Expurge it for a nobler creed!
+Until we smile at all alarm
+  Poor will be our Canadian breed.
+He may not count on victories
+Who will not die as patriot dies.
+
+Ignoble the consent to take
+  The light opinions of our worth
+That strangers condescending make
+  Who own not better brains nor birth:--
+Children of men who toiled and fought,
+Build your own fate; respect your lot.
+
+Arise! Live out a larger dream--
+  Your nation's that ye may be man's:
+Advance; invent; improve; the gleam
+  Of dawn for all illume your plans!
+Greece lived! the world requires again
+The lives of nations and of men!
+
+
+
+THE KEERLESS PARD.
+
+No, I'm a disappointed man,
+  Though I've acted fer the best;
+But I tell ye, stranger, what it is--
+  The Occident's not the West.
+
+Have I got the hang of the dialeck?
+  Ye're nearer New York ner I
+An' ye've seen th' latest litteracher
+  This lingo's laid-down by.
+
+What is Bret Harte now givin' us?
+  How's the Colorado tongue?
+Bret wuz the pard that run the West
+  When I wuz East--and young;--
+
+That is to say, three months ago.
+  But now I must be grey,
+Fer I've been out here so long I've lost
+  The hang o' the Western way.
+
+Way down thar in the State o' Maine,
+  In mild Skowhegan town,
+I pastured as a tenderfoot
+  An' the clerk o' Storeclothes Brown.
+
+Till I got to readin' _Roarin Camp_
+  An' about that Truthful James,
+Buffalo Bill an' Bloody Gulch,
+  An' pistol-an'-poker games,
+
+An' the pleasure o' shootin' justices
+  An' sheriffs deeputies
+An' the oncomplainin' public
+  An' the gineral mob likewise.
+
+Then I--wich my name is Dangerous Jake--
+  (Leastwise when took that way)
+Sloped unappreciative Brown
+  An' follered the wake o' day.
+
+An' here am I in Bismarck Jug!
+  Fer an inoffensive spree--
+Puttin' some buckshot inter the leg
+  Of a pagan-tail Chinee.
+
+Wot is the good of our churches
+  Ef the Mongol's goin' ter rule?
+An' how kin ye shoot the redskin
+  When they're givin' him beef and school?
+
+What are the Rockies comin' too?
+  Well, _I've_ acted fer the best.
+But the only remark I've got to make, is--
+  The Occident's not the West
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF LAPRAIRIE. (1691.)
+
+A BALLAD.
+
+I.
+
+That was a brave old epoch,
+  Our age of chivalry,
+When the Briton met the Frenchman
+  At the fight of La Prairie;
+And the manhood of New England,
+  And the Netherlander true
+And Mohawks sworn, gave battle
+  To the Bourbon's lilied blue.
+
+
+II.
+
+That was a brave old governor
+  Who gathered his array,
+And stood to meet, he knew not what
+  On that alarming day.
+Eight hundred, amid rumors vast
+  That filled the wild wood's gloom,
+With all New England's flower of youth,
+  Fierce for New France's doom.
+
+
+III.
+
+And the brave old half five hundred!
+  Their's should in truth be fame;
+Borne down the savage Richelieu,
+  On what emprise they came!
+Your hearts are great enough, O few:
+  Only your numbers fail,
+New France asks more for conquerors
+  All glorious though your tale.
+
+
+IV.
+
+It was a brave old battle
+  That surged around the fort,
+When D'Hosta fell in charging,
+  And 'twas deadly strife and short;
+When in the very quarters
+  They contested face and hand,
+And many a goodly fellow
+  Crimsoned yon La Prairie sand.
+
+
+V.
+
+And those were brave old orders
+  The colonel gave to meet
+That forest force with trees entrenched
+  Opposing the retreat:
+"DeCalliere's strength's behind us
+  And in front your Richelieu;
+We must go straightforth at them;
+  There is nothing else to do."
+
+
+VI.
+
+And then the brave old story comes,
+  Of Schuyler and Valrennes
+When "Fight," the British colonel called,
+  Encouraging his men,
+"For the Protestant Religion
+  And the honor of our King!"--
+"Sir, I am here to answer you!"
+  Valrennes cried, forthstepping.
+
+
+VII.
+
+Were those not brave old races?--
+  Well, here they still abide;
+And yours is one or other,
+  And the second's at your side,
+So when you hear your brother say,
+  "Some loyal deed I'll do,"
+Like old Valrennes, be ready with
+  "I'm here to answer you!"
+
+
+
+WINTER'S DAWN IN LOWER CANADA.
+
+To each there lives some beauteous sight: mine is to me most fair,
+I carry fadeless one clear dawn in keen December air,
+O'er leagues of plain from night we fled upon a pulsing train;
+For breath of morn, outside I stood. Then up a carmine stain
+Flushed calm and rich the long, low east, deep reddening till the sun
+Eyed from its molten fires and shot strange arrows, one by one
+On certain fields, and on a wood of distant evergreen,
+And fairy opal blues and pinks on all the snows between:
+(Broad earth had never such a flower, as in my country grows,
+When at the rising winter sun, the plain is all a rose.)
+Then seemed all nymphs and gods awake--heaven brightened with their
+smiles,
+The land was theirs; like mirages, stood out Elysian isles.
+Westward the forests smiled in strength and glory like the plain,
+Their bare boughs rose, an arrowy flight, and by them sped the train.
+But dream-crown of that porcelain sea, those plains of sunrise snow,
+The green woods east, the grey woods west, and molten carmine glow--
+A light flashed through the sappling wastes and alders nearer by,
+Where Phoebus worked the spell of spells that ever charmed an eye,
+His bright spears to the forest-flakes reached; that on their branches
+lay,
+And each shot back, as we sped by, a single peerless ray.
+More bright than starry hosts appeared that vision in the wood
+And flashed and flew like fire-flies in a nightly solitude,
+A maze of silver stars, a dance of diamonds in the day:
+
+Through many lives though fly my soul as on that pulsing train,
+That sparkling dawn shall oftentimes enkindle it again.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of
+Leisure, by W.D. Lighthall
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THOUGHTS, MOODS AND IDEALS: ***
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