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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/14616-0.txt b/14616-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc707d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/14616-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1723 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14616 *** + +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 THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14616 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cebd28 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #14616 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/14616) diff --git a/old/14616-8.txt b/old/14616-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4461ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/14616-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2113 @@ +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. 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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. 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