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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: Victor Roy, A Masonic Poem + +Author: Harriet Annie Wilkins + +Posting Date: August 4, 2012 [EBook #8146] +Release Date: May, 2005 +First Posted: June 19, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR ROY, A MASONIC POEM *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Curtis Weyant, Dave Maddock, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>Victor Roy;</h1> + +<h2>A Masonic Poem.</h2> + +<p align="center" class="smallcaps">by</p> + +<h3>Harriett Annie Wilkins.</h3> + +<h4>Dedicated, by permission<br> +To<br> +Daniel Spry, Esq.</h4> + +<h4>Grand Master of the<br> +Grand Lodge, A.F. & A.M.<br> +Of Canada.</h4> + + + + +<h1>Preface</h1> + + + +<p>An anecdote appeared some time ago in the pages of "The Craftsman" which +gave rise to the ideas embodied in "Victor Roy." It is not a story of +profound depth. Its aim is not to soar to Alpine heights of imagination, +or to excavate undiscovered treasures from the mines of thought. It is a +very simple story, told in very simple words, of such lives as are around +us in our midst. It tells of sorrows that are daily being borne by +suffering humanity, and of the faith that gives strength to that suffering +humanity to endure "seeing Him, who is invisible." All lives may not see +their earth day close in sunshine, but somewhere the sun is shining, and +all true cross-bearers shall some day become true crown-wearers. The +following pages have some references to that Ancient Order which comes +down the centuries, bearing upon its structure the marks of that Grand +Master Builder, who gave to the visible universe "the sun to rule the day, +the moon and stars to govern the night;" an Order which, like these +wondrous orbs, is grand in its mysterious symbolism, calm in its +unvarying circles, universal in its beneficence.</p> + +<p>We are told of a poor weary traveller who had plucked a flower. The +shadows of a grand cathedral lay before him. He entered; its +architecture charmed him, its calmness refreshed him. Approaching a +shrine he laid his flower upon it, saying: "It is all I can give; it, +too, is God's work, although gathered by a feeble, dying hand." A priest +standing near looked upon the flower and said: "God bless you, my +brother, heaven is nearer to me." So, if by the perusal of "Victor Roy" +one ear hears more distinctly the Apostolic declaration, "Pure religion +is to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction," or if one +poor sinking spirit is strengthened, as Longfellow says, to "touch God's +right hand in the darkness," the wishes of the Authoress will be fully +accomplished.</p> + +<p class="smallcaps">Harriett Annie</p> + +<p>Hamilton, August, 1882.</p> + + + + + +<h1>Victor Roy</h1> + + + + +<h2>Victor's Soliloquy.</h2> + + + +<p>Heavily rolleth the wintry clouds,<br> + And the ceaseless snow is falling, falling,<br> +As the frost king's troops in their icy shrouds,<br> + Whistle and howl, like lost spirits calling.</p> + +<p>But a warm luxuriantly furnished room,<br> + Is an antidote to the wild night storm,<br> +Lamplight and firelight banish the gloom,<br> + No poverty stalks there with cold gaunt form.</p> + +<p>Yet there seems a shadow, yes even there,<br> + Where all is so peacefully grand and still,<br> +No fair young face with its shining hair,<br> + No voice of love with its musical thrill.</p> + +<p>One reigneth alone in that mansion grand,<br> + And his day of life has long past its noon,<br> +The wanderer of many a foreign land,<br> + Rests, calmly waiting Heaven's final boon.</p> + +<p>There are lines on his brow of grief and care,<br> + Writ with a quill from Time's feathered wing.<br> +There are silver threads in the chesnut hair,<br> + The blossoms white of a fair dawning spring.</p> + +<p>Yet Victor Roy has a kindly word,<br> + And a kindly smile for all he meets;<br> +No cry of distress is by him unheard,<br> + While many a blessing his pathway greets.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's right Jasper, draw the curtains close,<br> +And make the fire burn bright;<br> +God help the poor and suffering ones<br> +Within this city to-night.<br> +Did your wife send food to that sick girl in the market lane to-day?<br> +Did you carry coals to the man whose limbs were crushed by the loaded dray?<br> +Well, that's all right, what is it you say? you wish that I did but know<br> +The comfort I give to hearts that are weak, or erring or low.<br> +Have you turned lecturer, Jasper? no; but it makes you sad,<br> +To see me lonely and quiet when I'm making others glad.<br> +But Jasper, remember that you and I, hold certain things in trust,<br> +We must gain some interest on our gold, not let it lie and rust.<br> +I am but a steward for the King, till the time of his return,<br> +There, that will do, supper at ten; how bright those fresh coals burn."<br> +Poor Jasper, he thinks me moping and sad; well, well, I only know<br> +I do not wish that he or aught should ever consider me so,<br> +It would seem like base ingratitude to the Ruler of my way,<br> +Who showers His blessings about and around me every day.<br> +But oh, Great Architect, whose hand has carved my destiny,<br> +There was a time when in my pride, I owned not Thine nor Thee,<br> +Unheeding the Holy Light Divine to man's dark pathway sent,<br> +Unheeding the Bible, blessed chart, to storm tossed sailors sent;<br> +With a film in my eyes, I would not see the ladder based on earth,<br> +Yet reaching to the cloud-crowned height, where the true Light has birth.<br> +The beautiful angels passing up, with all our prayers to God,<br> +Our tears and moans, our fading flowers, all stained with mire and sod--<br> +And coming down; ah, many a time I have blessed the Lord above,<br> +For His pure descending angels, bringing Faith, and Hope, and Love.<br> +There was a time when all this wealth of glory was lost on me,<br> +And I was like a rudderless ship, far out on the rocking sea,<br> +I had a friend, oh that blessed word, we had been parted for years,<br> +And I wandered one day to find him, my heart had no cloudy fears.<br> +That day stands out in bold relief upon Memory's wreck-strewn shore,<br> +Like a beacon light in the lighthouse, undimned by the rush and roar.<br> +'Twas a day in the early June, the clover was red in the field,<br> +And the zephyrs garnered the kisses, the gentle violets yield.<br> +Birds sang, and the sunshine flickered out and about through the cloud,<br> +What had a day like that to do with a pall, a coffin, a shroud?<br> +I stood in a flower-decked churchyard, and on the procession came,<br> +Why did I ask to be answered back, that his was the sleeper's name,<br> +Nearer now to the dark brown earth the band of his brothers turned,<br> +And on snowy aprons and collars of blue the merry sunbeams burned,<br> +I, like a suddenly petrified stone, stood mid the crowd that day,<br> +And with ears which seemed to be leaden, I listened and heard one say:</p> + +<p> "Brother, we have met before,<br> + Where the Tyler guards the door,<br> + We have given the well-known sign,<br> + That has blent our souls with thine,<br> + Now this eve, thou giv'st no word,<br> + Back to our souls deep stired,<br> + For the Angel Tylers wait,<br> + At thy Lodge Room's mystic gate.</p> + +<p> "Brother, thou art taking rest,<br> + We must still the wild storm breast,<br> + We must build through mist and night,<br> + Thou hast seen the quenchless Light,<br> + While we hew the shapeless stone,<br> + Thou hast bowed before the Throne,<br> + While we tread the chequered floor,<br> + Thou hast pass'd the golden door.</p> + +<p> "Oh Companion, were we there,<br> + Ended every pleading prayer,<br> + Ended all the work and toil,<br> + Gathered all the fruit and spoil,<br> + Finished all the war of sin,<br> + By the Warden's hand shut in,<br> + Brother; once again with thee,<br> + What would our first greeting be?</p> + +<p> "Loved Companions, we have given,<br> + To the guardianship of Heaven,<br> + Our Brother's precious dust,<br> + And in memory of the just,<br> + Be it ours still to guard,<br> + All he loved, with watch and ward,<br> + Till like him we reach a shore,<br> + Where these sorrows come no more."</p> + +<p>"All he loved," I knew as I stood there, he loved not one of that band<br> +As we had loved in our boyhood days, heart to heart and hand to hand,<br> +They called us David and Jonathan, for our hearts were knit as one,<br> +And now I saw him left alone, in the shades of of the dying sun;<br> +Was it his spirit beside me stood; for do not their spirits come,<br> +Relieved from all burden of earthly dross, and win us up to their home?<br> +Was it his spirit urged me on, to seek for the Orient Light?<br> +It seemed that I should be nearer him if one in that mystic rite,<br> +Never a Syrian ready to perish, needed more timely aid,<br> +Never a pilgrim knocked at the door and found more restful shade,<br> +Aye, time has carried me on some way, since the hour I saw the light,<br> +And morning has gone, noontide has gone, now soon must draw on the night.<br> +I heard the young lads in the office talking about me to-day,<br> +I did not mean to play the part of eaves-dropper in their way,<br> +They were wondering who in the name of fate, I would find for my heir,<br> +Wondering why I never was married, there are some so proud and fair,<br> +They knew I could have for the asking, and so they went on with their fun,<br> +Till the "Senior Partner" gave a cough, and then all their mirth was done.<br> +But I asked from Heaven though I know the way is mingled flower and thorn,<br> +That not one from partner to porter may bear all I have borne.<br> +So Jasper thinks I am sad; how the wintry winds whistle to-night!<br> +Heaven grant no poor woman or children are out in this sleety blight.<br> +I cannot read this eve; what ails me? "Chronicle," "Tribune" and "Times,"<br> +Lie looking coaxingly at me, I heed not their prose or rhymes,<br> +Is it thinking so much of Arthur, brings Aimee before me here,<br> +Aimee, my idol, my darling, my pet, who always spoke words of cheer,<br> +Did I say what brings her near me to-night, she is with me every day.<br> +God help me, for Aimee's another man's wife three thousand miles away,<br> +Oh how we loved! there's no use in talking, all do not love the same,<br> +To some 'tis the bread and breath of life, to some it is only a name.<br> +We were going to be married the coming spring, we had planned our nest,<br> +Down in the fairest of fairy dells, in sight of the blue sea's breast,<br> +When Uncle Roy who had sailed to India, many long years before,<br> +Gone from the towers of Edinburgh, and made piles of golden store,<br> +Sent for me all in a hurry and ere long he died on my breast,<br> +And far from the land of the heather we laid him gently to rest.<br> +And then came the fever to me, sick and weak at the point of death,<br> +Raving for Aimee--they told me 'twas Aimee at every breath.<br> +Weeks passed and I woke again one day to breath as it were new air.<br> +The crisis over; now health, life, love and myself a millionaire.<br> +But Victor Ellis came back no more, I was changed into Victor Roy.<br> +Yes, a king with a crown of gold, but the gold was a broken toy,<br> +For a letter lay by me from England, a strange hand-writing to me,<br> +Telling me Aimee, my star of hope, was lost in the treacherous sea.<br> +A party went boating one eve, and the pleasure boat struck the bar,<br> +And before any help could be given, Aimee had floated out far.<br> +Every available thing was done, that landsman or sailor could try,<br> +So fell the burning shower of words that met my bewildered eye.<br> +Oh the night at noon, I have wondered oft how much the heart will bear,<br> +As strand after strand of the toughened cord, strains with the weight and wear.<br> +I felt I must fly, weak as I was, to where she was lying; perhaps<br> +'Twas a merciful Providence after all, that I took a relapse.<br> +Oh, the weary months that crawled slowly by at a tortoise creeping pace,<br> +I seeming to hear the dash of the waves, that hid a beloved face.<br> +Time passed, and I learnt that the roaring sea was not the treacherous thing.<br> +'Twas not the dumb wave, but a living man that turned to Winter my Spring,<br> +And Aimee had married another and sought the Australian shore.<br> +She must have thought I was dead, Heaven help me, betwixt us ocean's roar.<br> +I have sometimes wondered if gold is ever aught but a curse,<br> +No, that's wrong--if honestly gained, no harm in a well filled purse,<br> +But I often think of the little home standing there by the sea,<br> +For far off merry England, the home planned for Aimee and me.<br> +Oh to have toiled for her from dawn till the dews of restful night,<br> +Her smile my guerdon, her love my prize, her heart so happy and bright.<br> +Often I wonder if peace and love have sheltered her with their wings;<br> +Of wealth I suppose they have plenty, and the comforts money brings,<br> +For Montrose was the heir to a large amount of money I know,<br> +And he certainly was not the kind of man to let his money go.<br> +But there must be something warmer than gold to brighten Aimee's sky,<br> +And I hav'nt much faith in a man who could win such a prize by a lie.<br> +But Heaven is good that I found him not when my soul was passion rife,<br> +'Twould only have brought her grief, for my aim was a life for a life,<br> +Well-a-day! come here "Chronicle," let us see if you have a word<br> +To calm the current of burning thoughts that down to their depths are stirred,<br> +I'll read the first thing I meet with, murders, fires, or kingdoms riven;<br> +Oh you are the first on the page, "Vera, to her lover in Heaven."</p> + +<p>"My lover why is it this night of storms,<br> + My thoughts are ever turning to thee?<br> +You who are sheltered from all the blast,<br> + Hear the murmuring sounds of the crystal sea.</p> + +<p>"My lover; do you remember the day,<br> + When last my hands were in yours entwined,<br> +And the air was faint with the summer flowers,<br> + While a roll of thunder came on the wind.</p> + +<p>"My lover; who always spoke words of love,<br> + The tone of thy voice is so clear but far,<br> +A bridge is between us I cannot cross,<br> + But God's will stands at each end of the bar.</p> + +<p>"My lover; did you with your mist-cleared eyes,<br> + See me when I thought you were far away,<br> +Did you bring down Hope from your new-found skies,<br> + While my heart was breaking over your clay?</p> + +<p>"My lover; how long have the seasons been,<br> + Since I tried to spell out the small word 'wait,'<br> +And learnt to know that your love and life,<br> + Grow ever more strong as the years grow late.</p> + +<p>"My lover; in dreams of the night you come,<br> + Out of God's goodness sent from afar,<br> +He arches the barriers for the best,<br> + And Christ's love stands at each end of the bar.</p> + +<p>"Some day that arch will widen its breadth,<br> + There'll be room for two, you'll not come in vain,<br> +And over the darkness of weeping and death,<br> + We'll be always together, and happy again."</p> + +<p>Why did I read these lines, was it only to mock my woe?<br> +For less would the burden be and the sin would be less I know,<br> +If I knew that my darling was safe and blest where the angels are.<br> +Why do I murmur? for God's will stands at each end of the mystic bar.<br> +Well, why do I stay here gazing hopelessly into the fire?<br> +Watching the coals that glow and burn, then fall away and expire,<br> +It seems that out of their flashing light my lost love appears to rise,<br> +And another face that has haunted me all day with its wistful eyes<br> +As we halted at church to-day; a face, a young girl's face, so sad,<br> +Looked out among the crowd that gazed, and her dark eyes made me glad.<br> +What strange, queer beings we are, a look, or a song, or a flower,<br> +A scent on the air, a sound of the sea, they come with such power,<br> +That the long years vanish away, and over death's murky tide<br> +Spiritual bodies fearlessly walk, and stand with us side by side.<br> +Gone is all distance and time, vanished far is the grave's eclipse.<br> +Again sweet voices are in our ears, their breath upon our lips,<br> +So, with that poor, strange child to-day, who has never heard Aimee's name,<br> +Little she thought that her earnest eyes rekindled a smouldering flame.<br> +There was an old familiar look of the happy days once fled,<br> +An old familiar look of one that I love as we love the dead.<br> +Love her? love Aimee? do I love her less, because since I kissed her last<br> +Over my desolate heart the tides of twenty-five years have passed?<br> +I am longing to-night to hear her hymn, her sweet "Abide with me,"<br> +As she sang it, leaning upon my breast the night I put out to sea.<br> +I know it was only she I loved, and thought of that eventide;<br> +But now I can fully endorse the draft, "O Lord with me abide,"<br> +And spite of the heavy clouds that hang o'er my life path near and far,<br> +I own with Vera that "Christ's love stands at each end of the mystic bar,"<br> +And so much of the desert life has been travelled by night and day,<br> +That the shores of the summer land are not so very far away.<br> +And although I know there is one dark sea where black waves heave and toss,<br> +I know the Pilot who waits for me will carry me safely across.<br> +My path down to that water's edge is one avenue of pines;<br> +But though I walk amid shadows dim, o'erhead the bright sun shines.</p> + + + + +<h2>Robert's Death</h2> + + + +<p>Heavily rolleth the wintry clouds,<br> +And the ceaseless snow is falling, falling,<br> +While the frost king's troops in their icy shrouds<br> +Whistle and howl like lost spirits calling.</p> + +<p>In a scantily furnished tenement room.<br> +Through which the same frost troops are sighing,<br> +Churlishly gloweth the charcoal flame,<br> +While a man lies there in penury dying.</p> + +<p>Nothing new on this beautiful earth,<br> +Are hunger and nakedness, cold and pain,<br> +Over God's sinless creation of love<br> +The serpent glides with his poisonous train.</p> + +<p>"Where is Aimee?" here I lie all alone in this wretched hole,<br> +I who was reared as a gentleman's son, an aristocrat to the soul,<br> +Could drink more wine at my father's board than the best man out of a score;<br> +Rode with the hounds at ten years old, and played high in a few years more.<br> +A man can live without love, but he can't get along without gold,<br> +And a woman and child sadly hamper a fellow that's poor or old.<br> +How can a gentleman work and toil year after year like a slave?<br> +For when you've worked your life away you're asked, "Why did not you save?"<br> +Not that I would reproach my wife, I daresay she has done her best;<br> +But women can earn such a trifle, and grow weak if they lose their rest.<br> +Not that Aimee has ever grumbled, and I am not to be blamed,<br> +If she choose to work and stitch away from morn till the sunset flamed;<br> +And just the course of my crooked luck, that if but one child we had,<br> +The boy must go and the girl must stay; that boy was a likely lad,<br> +Would have been nineteen if he'd lived, might be earning a good sum now,<br> +For Willie was something like me, wide awake, had a sensible brow;<br> +But Ethel, poor child, her mother again lives in a world of her own,<br> +Sees faces in flowers, hears voices in winds, reads poems from chiselled stone.<br> +I certainly havn't had the best of luck, I've tried in different lands,<br> +And, as I said, it's a drag to have others upon your hands.<br> +'Twas a most disappointing thing, of course, when that old aunt died at Ayr,<br> +And only one hundred pounds was left to Aimee, her rightful heir;<br> +Not that I married Aimee for wealth, but I thought it just as sure,<br> +That grand estate, to think of it all, and I lying here so poor.<br> +Ah, I want some brandy! I must have something to make me feel more strong.<br> +Brandy! it is money, and life, and health; what makes Aimee stay so long?<br> +Oh, here you are, make up more fire; I should think you're warm enough<br> +Walking about, let me have that shawl, to-night will be wild and rough.<br> +I must have some more spirit to keep me up, not that I heed the lie,<br> +The doctor told you this morning that before very long I must die.<br> +I expect, if I had some of the gold your old aunt used to keep,<br> +He would manage to raise me up all right--you think I had better sleep,<br> +You think me ungrateful, perhaps; reach some brandy and then you'll see<br> +How more than grateful I am, what a pattern of patience I'll be.<br> +No money, no means, the last thing's gone, and Ethel and you in need!<br> +Well, you must have managed badly enough with only two mouths to feed,<br> +For you can't count me as much, the little support I take,<br> +A little stimulant now and then, swallowed only for your sake.<br> +Aimee, I must have some now--nothing left? what is that glittering thing?<br> +Aimee, you dear one, dispose of that; of what use is our wedding ring?<br> +Don't be cross for the sake of the child, you say, why you angel dear,<br> +Who would ever doubt you, so good, so true, you have nothing to fear.<br> +And then you're always trusting in God, and surely he would approve<br> +Of your selling your wedding ring for him that you've sworn to love?<br> +I wish that wind would stop howling, it says such queer things to me,<br> +Wake up, little Ethel, and send her before it's too dark to see<br> +If that old fraud of a pawnbroker gives her the change all right.<br> +Aimee, send quickly, I feel so strange; oh, I dread this coming night.<br> +I never murdered that man out there, away on the western plains;<br> +And yet there are spots of blood on the floor, they can't wash out the stains.<br> +What is it the lawyers call it? "Accessory to the fact?"<br> +Ha! ha! old boy, I was wide awake; they could not catch me in the act,<br> +So we put that poor young fool of a lad, just out from the motherland,<br> +Made him just drunk enough to fight when we needed a helping hand;<br> +A helping hand with a bowie knife and a corpse to be stowed away,<br> +We were sober enough not to be on hand when called upon next day.<br> +Who's that? Who are you? Stop! stop! coming whispering into my ear,<br> +"There are other judges, other law courts, and I have cause to fear."<br> +How the ship struggles and reels--all right--is this the Australian shore?<br> +No, sandbars and reefs; will they never stop those confounded breaker's roar?<br> +Aimee, what is it? Take that stuff? I will if 'twill make me sleep.<br> +I cannot rest; shall I never be quiet; hark how the wild winds sweep.<br> +No, Victor, no; you got the money, and that was enough for you.<br> +Did you think I was fool enough, man, to let you have Aimee too?<br> +Aimee, come here and whisper to me; what does the judgment mean?<br> +Judgment and conscience.--Look, look, there's Victor grinning behind the screen!<br> +Victor in heaven this many a year? I tell you it is no such thing.<br> +Aimee, you were dead once--were drowned--did you hear the mermaids sing?<br> +I say you were drowned one night, when the pleasure boat struck the bar,<br> +And before any help could come you had floated out deep and far.<br> +Every available thing was done that sailor or landsman could try;<br> +But you could not be found--I guess not--so of course you had to die.<br> +Hav'nt I a remarkable memory? these were the words I wrote:<br> +"Every available thing was done by sailor or landsman afloat."<br> +So Victor knows all about it--there! there he is coming again;<br> +No! no! we are'nt here, we're away on the southern Indian main.<br> +Who calls me? Who wants me? I cannot go into that wild dark land.<br> +Somebody, help! Is this death? Don't touch me with that cold hand.<br> +Aimee, don't leave me; oh say, have the officers found me at last?<br> +Tell me--I think it's the medicine I took that makes me dream of the past--<br> +Oh, will they believe me up there, in the clear bright rays of the sun,<br> +That shows all the by-gone years of a life, the crimes a man has done?<br> +Will nobody stop that horrid wind? it creeps right into my heart,<br> +It seems to mutter, and groan and shriek: "Come, it is time to depart."<br> +There's a broad dark sea before me; help, Aimee, the waters are deep!<br> +I want a pilot--I cannot steer--I am sinking--let--me--sleep."</p> + +<p>Bloweth the storm more cheerlessly still,<br> +And the setting sun has a sickly hue,<br> +As if he foresaw the falling tears,<br> +As if all the sorrows of earth he knew.</p> + +<p>Heavily stealeth an hour or two,<br> +And mid the noise of the city's din,<br> +No one noticed the tenement room<br> +"As two passed out where but one went in."</p> + +<p>For, lieth a dead man behind the door,<br> +Closed between him and the outer strife,<br> +And a weeping woman and clinging girl<br> +Look upon death, and look out upon life.</p> + +<p>Almost fainting with suffering and grief;<br> +Alone, unknown, in a stranger land,<br> +Mother and daughter have knelt to pray<br> +As men pray wrecked on a rocky strand.</p> + +<p>Churlishly gloweth the charcoal flame,<br> +Mother and child with hearts almost broke,<br> +Clasped in each other's embrace of love,<br> +Checking her sorrow, sweet Ethel spoke:</p> + +<p> "Mother, my mother dear,<br> +Weep not so hopelessly, though all is dark<br> +We have our loving Father yet in heaven,<br> +His eyes must be upon our shattered bark;<br> +Our sails are torn and we are tempest driven,<br> + Yet <i>He</i> can hear.</p> + +<p> To whom has God sent aid?<br> +To the lone widow's home the prophet came,<br> +For a few frightened men the wild sea slept,<br> +For one poor servant flashed the glowing flame,<br> +Where angels in their martial glory stepped<br> + Out from the shade.</p> + +<p> Not for proud Miriam's king<br> +Rolled back the billows of the deep Red sea;<br> +For helpless women, children, unarmed men,<br> +The 'Fourth Man' walked to shield the flame-girt three;<br> +For one, St. Michael, paced the lion's den,<br> + God's help to bring.</p> + +<p> Mother, is He not near,<br> +Who had not where to rest His tired head?<br> +Who, in the dreary wilderness alone,<br> +Hungry and faint, had none to give Him bread;<br> +Listening t' the damp wind's low and sullen moan<br> + O'er nature's bier."</p> + +<p>"My child, my comforter, in this dark hour of love<br> +Thy faith and trust in God is like the pole star's glow<br> +To some benighted sailor; yes, e'en now a thought<br> +Has come to me like light from dawning sunbeam brought.<br> +My father, Ethel, was a Mason; ere he died<br> +He called me to him, and kneeling at his side,<br> +Gave me a jewel, charged me with his dying breath<br> +Never to give it up except for life or death,<br> +For when at last he died we were almost alone,<br> +And stranger's ears were those which heard his dying moan,<br> +The hands of strangers robed him for the grave,<br> +The feet of strangers laid him where the cedars wave.<br> +Weary, he had left England for the balmy breath<br> +Of summer climes he found fierce pain and death.<br> +I was his joy, his all on earth, for the dark hour<br> +That gave me breath took home his purest flower.<br> +And I have never known what means that place of rest,<br> +The sweeetest home on earth, a living mother's breast.<br> +All the night long, in which my father died,<br> +He kept me close beside him, oft he vainly tried<br> +To tell me about something, ever and anon<br> +He'd speak about his brothers--I knew he had none--<br> +Then in faint accents he would say, 'When I am cold<br> +Tell them I left a lamb outside the fold.'<br> +'Tell whom?' I cried. 'My brothers.' Then he'd fall asleep,<br> +And I supposed him wandering and would weep.<br> +A year or so before we spent a happy time<br> +On bonnie Scotland's hills of heather and wild thyme,<br> +And oft we watched the shepherd tending flocks of sheep<br> +In the soft grassy vales, or up the mountain steep,<br> +And sweet were the life lessons that I often took<br> +From that unsullied page of nature's open book.<br> +There came to me through that fair, hallowed summer scene,<br> +Bright glowing visions of the fadeless pastures green,<br> +And clearer views of One I trust my soul will keep,<br> +That sinless, Holy Shepherd of the helpless sheep.<br> +And so I thought when father moaned amid his pain,<br> +'I leave an orphan lamb;' he had gone back again<br> +Through the fierce fevers, annihilating flight,<br> +To valley of the blue bell, or the heath crowned height.<br> +But, suddenly there came one quick and conscious gleam<br> +Of light with its belongings; that transforming beam<br> +Lit up the past a moment, then its God-sent light<br> +Flashed up the path he travelled. No more tears, no night<br> +Was there for him, he said, only love is shining day,<br> +And calling on his young wife's name he passed away.<br> +Ethel, I've been so hungry often, and so chill,<br> +And what is ten times worse, have seen you faint and ill,<br> +And never yet have I foresworn my pledge; but now<br> +Our duty to the dead must plead my broken vow.<br> +Ethel, if my loved Father is with us to-night,<br> +Will he not stamp forgiveness on this dead as right?<br> +Perhaps in the morning light this howling storm will stay<br> +Its fury, and God please to open up our way.<br> +So we can lay our dead in quiet rest at last,<br> +Then we, my child, go forth and dare the world's cold blast."</p> + +<p> "Mother, oh let me tell<br> +Something I saw to-day: I went for bread;<br> +But when I came to pass the church, my way<br> +Was stopped by a procession, a neighbor said<br> +It was St. John's loved Festival, a day<br> + Masons keep well.</p> + +<p> And while we were delayed<br> +She spoke of one who had kind words for all,<br> +She said his name was Roy, told me his home;<br> +He could'nt have heard her, yet he looked at me<br> +So strangely, yet so kindly, that my thoughts will roam<br> + To him for aid.</p> + +<p> Yes, mother; yes, to-night,<br> +Trust me with that Masonic jewel, I<br> +Will keep it safe; perhaps this very man<br> +May know of some one who would like to buy,<br> +At least he'll let me know its worth, I can<br> + But do the right.</p> + +<p> Mother, deny me not,<br> +I'll go as "Esther went unto the king,<br> +God will protect me if the night is wild;<br> +Perhaps some bright ray of sunshine I may bring,<br> +Pray that good angels may surround your child,<br> + And guard her lot."</p> + + + + +<h2>Ethel's Mission.</h2> + + + +<p>Out in the blinding and pitiless sleet,<br> + The young girl goes on her errand blest;<br> +She starts at each sound on the lonely street,<br> + As she longs for, but dares not dream of rest.</p> + +<p>She knows not the worth of the gem she holds<br> + Close to her breast, in her thinly clad hands;<br> +A martyr's courage her soul enfolds,<br> + And a guardian angel near her stands.</p> + +<p>She shudders oft as she passes by<br> + Some staggering form, whose ribald curse<br> +Seems, 'mid the storms of that stormy sky,<br> + To make the loneliness ten times worse.</p> + +<p>Now on the icy pavement she stands,<br> + Now is plunged deep in a drift of snow,<br> +Now she is rubbing her freezing hands<br> + Scarcely knowing which way she must go.</p> + +<p>She thinks of the past, the long dark past,<br> + And blights that follow a drunkard's child,<br> +And the tears she strive's to check fall fast,<br> + And turn to ice in that night so wild.</p> + +<p>For we all know how, in the darkest shade,<br> + Dreams of the sunniest light will come<br> +To one in a foreign hospital laid,<br> + No words so dear as, "My home, sweet home!"</p> + +<p>And Ethel sees visions of sunny bowers<br> + Where once she played with the ring-doves mild,<br> +'Mid the piercing blast she can scent the flowers<br> + She plucked with joy when a little child.</p> + +<p>Then she starts in fear, and a nameless dread,<br> + As she thinks of her mother o'er and o'er,<br> +Keeping lone watch with one lying dead,<br> + In that fearful stillness, behind the door;.</p> + +<p>And, raising her trembling heart to Heaven,<br> + She asks of Him, who careth for birds,<br> +That help and strength may to her be given,<br> + And not in air die her earnest words.</p> + +<p>She reaches the end of the lonely gloom,<br> + She scarcely knows if in fear or joy,<br> +She passes on to a snug warm room<br> + And stands in the presence of Victor Roy.</p> + +<p>With tremulous efforts the timid girl<br> + Strives to utter her story of grief,<br> +all things grow of a dizzy whirl<br> + As she shivering stands like an aspen leaf.</p> + +<p>He looks at the eyes so earnest and sad,<br> + He hears the voice that is sweet and mild,<br> +He sees a figure scantily clad,<br> + And only mutters, "Why, that is the child."</p> + +<p>He looks at the snowflakes melting fast<br> + From the faded hood and the mantle fold,<br> +While his thoughts go dreamily into the past,<br> + And now he is young and now he is old.</p> + +<p>He has taken the jewel in his hand,<br> + He knows the mark which that Key-stone bears;<br> +Upon any sea, upon any land,<br> + The sign of a brother that jewel wears.</p> + +<p>He looks at the Key-stone, with eyes whose ray<br> + Grows dreamy like a somnambulist,<br> +and Ethel murmurs, "I saw you to-day<br> + At the church of St. John, the Evangelist.</p> + +<p>Have I done any wrong in coming here?<br> + 'Twas only this evening my father died,<br> +And mother is lonely and full of fear;<br> + We have no friend in this world so wide."</p> + +<p>And hearing the mournful voice again,<br> + Seemed the unexplained spell to break;<br> +And, in tones which were partly born of pain<br> + And partly of hopefulness, Victor spake:</p> + +<p>"Come nearer the fire, little girl, and tell me why here you came.<br> +Why did you bring this jewel to me? How did you learn my name?<br> +Your father is dead, this was not his; your name is Ethel Adair.<br> +Adair, Adair, it seems like a dream; I have heard that name, but where?<br> +There, rest yourself child, it's cold to-night, you can tell me by and by<br> +Where you are from, and where you live--what do you say, will I buy?<br> +Do not fear little girl, I am your friend; you cannot speak the word<br> +Of thanks you wish to say, never mind, for there's One above has heard.<br> +Were you born in America? No; in Spain by the Darro's waters bright,<br> +Your parents went there from western skies, 'neath the Rocky mountain's height.<br> +Where do you live? What there, in that wretched barn of a place!<br> +A man who can rent such dens should meet the contempt of his race.<br> +What have you had to eat to-day? Why, how have you lived it out?<br> +Your mother and you did sewing; oh yes, at starvation prices, no doubt.<br> +Him? I know the man you have worked for then, he keeps his carriage and pair,<br> +Gives largely to missionary funds, and is long and loud in grayer.<br> +Never mind, the same All-Seeing Eye watches them come and go,<br> +That noted the whited sepulchre two thousand years ago.<br> +There, take that coffee and cake, and when you are rested I'll come<br> +And see what has to be done in your lonely, desolate home.<br> +And Jasper, you'll come along to take care of us both, and please bring<br> +Something to eat; a basket? yes, filled with every good thing.<br> +There, don't be long Jasper, time flies; yes, I know it is growing late,<br> +And Una and her lion have not so very long to wait.<br> +You used to read of Una, and wonder what made the lion stay;<br> +Lions are useful, Ethel, sometimes to keep the jackals away.<br> +Why child, are you ready so soon? Will you be my little guide?<br> +Oh, I cannot tell you the worth of this; do you know where your grandpa died?<br> +You would rather I bought it--all right--who is at home, only your mother, dear?<br> +A brother's daughter and orphan child must not perish while I am near.<br> +You knew that God would help you, have you learnt to trust and love Him too?<br> +There's another link between us then, ever old and ever new.<br> +You're afraid the storm will hurt me, you are used to the frosty air;<br> +We'll brave it together for once, so come little Ethel Adair.</p> + + + + +<h2>Aimee's Soliloquy.</h2> + + + +<p>And has she gone--that fair, frail, gentle flower--<br> +Out in this scene of winter's frost-forged power?<br> +Oh, heaven, have I been selfish in my woe?<br> +Sweet angels guard her through the blinding snow.<br> +Ethel, my child, my comforter, my stay,<br> +It seems a long dream since the summer day<br> +When first she came to me, in that far land<br> +Where the bright Darro laves the gleaming sand.<br> +'Neath the blue skies of Spain her baby feet<br> +First walked amid the southern bowers, sweet<br> +With breath of jasemine; and the green vines twined<br> +Their gentle arms, clasping the golden rind<br> +Of ripened oranges, and the rose-hung bowers<br> +Glowed with the glory of a thousand flowers.<br> +And oft at night, up the dark waters came<br> +The splash of oars, beneath the stars white flame<br> +Sounded the solemn chant of sailors nigh,<br> +"Ave Maria! save us, hear our cry."<br> +But to my babe and I there came no hymn,<br> +No hallowing words amid the olives dim,<br> +Only the same dark blight on every scene,<br> +The leper's mournful cry, "Unclean, unclean."<br> +For then 'twas whispered that dark deeds of shame<br> +Wreathed with a viper's slime our household name.<br> +I know not all the truth, but I am sure<br> +The path of sin is downward, and the poor<br> +Weak soul that yields is bound by fetters tight<br> +'Till comes the end as it has come to-night.<br> +And he lies there; oh, in this bitter cup<br> +Which Thou, my Father, bids't me drink up.<br> +I bless thy strong, calm power, which, through the years,<br> +The long, dark, downward time of change and tears<br> +Hast kept before my dimmed and fading sight<br> +One word which warned with an undying light,<br> +When love had proved an "<i>ignis fatuus</i>" gleam.<br> +Duty stood forward with a godlike beam,<br> +And brought before the fainting sickened heart,<br> +The words God listened to, "till death us part,"<br> +Two short words, Love and Duty, when together<br> +How bearable the rains of stormy weather;<br> +But when they unclasp hands, e'en then the dew<br> +Grows into ice-points, piercing through and through.<br> +"Till death us part," and am I really free?<br> +Is the chain severed for eternity?<br> +Look back my conscience, for the hours go fast,<br> +Through the dim corridors of the far past.<br> +Oh memory, from what point will thou start,<br> +Back to the time when Victor won my heart;<br> +He was my idol, bright star of my life,<br> +Our home was planned, I was to be his wife; <br> +When off to India he sailed far away,<br> +Expecting to return an early day.<br> +Ah, that last night when he put out to sea,<br> +When by his side I sang "Abide with me;"<br> +Ah, mournful days, yet hopes bright fires would burn,<br> +Giving warm promise of his quick return,<br> +Oft would I stand beside the untiring seas,<br> +And send him words of love and trust like these:</p> + +<p> "Evening's gloom is round me now,<br> + Evening's breeze is whispering low,<br> + Gentle murmuring voices wake<br> + From the ripples of the lake.<br> + Maker of the land and sea,<br> + Hear my humble evening plea,<br> + Father, hear me as I pray,<br> + One I love is far away.</p> + +<p> Guide the bark that bears him on,<br> + Up the mountain's towering height,<br> + And the misty damps of night,<br> + In the city's moving throng,<br> + With the wood-dove's sweetest song,<br> + By the lonely river's marge,<br> + O'er him give Thy angels charge.</p> + +<p><br> + In his hours of gladsome mirth,<br> + Round some warm and welcome hearth,<br> + In the halls of keen debate,<br> + And the pomp and pride of state,<br> + Cheer his spirit with love's beams<br> + Lighten up his midnight dreams;<br> + In his wanderings free and wild,<br> + Father, keep him, as Thy child.</p> + +<p> From the pestilential blight,<br> + From the sun-beams scorching light,<br> + From temptation's mighty power,<br> + In some lone unguarded hour.<br> + From the dangers that we know,<br> + From the dark undreamt of foe,<br> + From the death-splash of the wave,<br> + Father, hear and help and save."</p> + +<p>Then came the tidings brought by Robert's hand,<br> +Victor lay buried in a far off land;<br> +Died, wafting my name up to Heaven in prayer,<br> +Leaving his promised bride to Robert's care.<br> +Oft it has puzzled me, until my brain<br> +Has racked itself from thinking into pain,<br> +Why Victor left me thus, for in the past<br> +He surely loved not Robert, perhaps at last<br> +He saw things differently and thought it best<br> +And had his wishes writ, e're he could rest.<br> +But oh, the agony of those past hours;<br> +It seems on looking back, that all my flowers<br> +Looked mournfully at me and drooped their heads,<br> +And lay like dying children in their beds;<br> +And the bright birds in the vine-covered wall<br> +Sang the sad chords of "The Dead March in Saul;"<br> +And I was living, but all else were dead,<br> +The sunbeam shimmered sickly o'er my head,<br> +As when a ray peers in a darkened room,<br> +Where one beneath a pall awaits his tomb.<br> +Robert was ever near when Victor died,<br> +And soon he sought to win me for his bride;<br> +He told me how he'd loved me many years,<br> +Loved him I loved, kindly he dried my tears,<br> +Pictured my desolate and lonely lot,<br> +Urged me to go with him to some new spot<br> +Where all the past should be but as a dream,<br> +And our lives glide gently down life's stream.<br> +I told him that my heart was far away,<br> +Beneath the palm where Victor's body lay;<br> +That nightly in my dreams I heard the splash<br> +Upon the shores where Ganges' waters dash.<br> +I told him all my hope now was to stand<br> +Amid the quiet of God's summerland;<br> +Beneath another palm tree's shade to be,<br> +And list the murmurs of the crystal sea.<br> +But Robert loved me; I became his wife;<br> +Could I forsee the sunken rocks of life?<br> +And he was handsome then, and kind, and bright;<br> +Could I foretell eclipses? then the night.<br> +Oh, I have looked sometimes upon that face,<br> +When robbed of every lineament of grace,<br> +And I have cried unto the heavens above,<br> +"It was not this, O God, I pledged to love;<br> +Unsteady gait, wild brain and selfish heart--"<br> +Flashed the red lights of danger "till death part."<br> +Tell me, soul-searching ray, if erst I strove<br> +To cherish, feed and guard where grew no love.<br> +We sailed away to far Australia's shore,<br> +Oh, the long days passed near the ocean's roar.<br> +For him on whom I leaned in hope and trust,<br> +Proved but coarse clay that crumbled soon to dust.<br> +Drinking and gambling, sharks that swallow whole,<br> +Homes, jewels, money, reason, body, soul.<br> +Alone, for weeks to hear none call my name,<br> +And happier alone; then baby came,<br> +My firstborn, precious boy, I lived for him<br> +For months; then his bright eyes grew dim,<br> +And where the reeds and grass grew rank and wild,<br> +We made a grave for Willie, darling child.<br> +Ah, well I ween the night we laid him there,<br> +I went to watch his grave; day had been fair,<br> +But eve came up with thunder's muttered growl,<br> +And ever and anon the lightning's scowl<br> +Flashed angrily upon me as I viewed<br> +The breakers dashing on the sea beach rude.<br> +I grew passionate amid the whirlwind's sigh,<br> +It had no word of comfort, loud was its cry,<br> +And deep, dark was the struggle of my soul,<br> +As I watched the billows onward roll.<br> +There came no ray of hope across my breast,<br> +As I turned toward my place of wild unrest;<br> +I looked in vain for calmness, up on high,<br> +It was not God's time for rainbows in the sky.<br> +I went again next eve; there was no storm,<br> +The full moon lighted up each darkening form;<br> +'Twas the glory of a summer's bloom,<br> +And I went onward to my baby's tomb.<br> +I laid fresh flowers above the cold in death,<br> +I felt upon my cheek warm zephyr's breath,<br> +It seemed as if an angel had swept by<br> +Across the grass where I too longed to lie;<br> +And I saw the glorious sweep of moonbeams<br> +Gilding the white rocks, circling all the streams<br> +With rays of glory; I knelt on the bank,<br> +Watching the picture, till my lone heart sank<br> +Down to the depths; I could have slept to death,<br> +My wounds seemed to defy the balmy breath<br> +Of nature to restore my peace; my hands<br> +I stretched out o'er the sea to northern lands,<br> +I moved so swiftly o'er the moon gilt foam,<br> +I stood once more within my father's home,<br> +Could almost hear the village bells ring out,<br> +Could almost hear the merry children's shout,<br> +Could breathe the scent of violet and rose,<br> +Walked down the dells where the pale primrose grows.<br> +Ah, tell the truth, felt once again the bliss<br> +Of Victor's loving clasp and burning kiss,<br> +Felt his fond arms enfold me to his breast,<br> +And I a bird safe in its shadowy nest,<br> +And then the vision vanished; I was there,<br> +A prey to sorrow, loneliness and care,<br> +Like one who spends in a dark mine his life,<br> +My baby dead, and I a drunkard's wife.<br> +Then came a thought on Him of Mary born,<br> +Who turned not back for spear or cross or thorn,<br> +And through the murmurings of breeze and bay,<br> +A voice seemed whispering to me, "Watch and pray."<br> +I knelt as He knelt on the grassy sod,<br> +And following Him I prayed for strength from God;<br> +A sweet bird suddenly broke into song,<br> +A soft air trembled through the branches strong,<br> +And my soul rose on the pure air to Heaven,<br> +Thus to my heart was hope and comfort given.<br> +While by that grave I sang "Abide with me,"<br> +As on the night when Victor went to sea;<br> +Ah, I was leaning then upon the breast<br> +That five-and-twenty years has been at rest.<br> +Oh, Victor! art thou gone so far away<br> +That thou cans't hear no earth tone night or day?<br> +Sometimes it seems as if thou wert not far,<br> +Nearer and warmer than the nearest star.<br> +How the wind moans--Ethel, my precious one,<br> +Where shall we wander by to-morrow's sun?<br> +Homeless and friendless in a stranger land,<br> +Our Saviour help and aid; Thy mighty hand<br> +Can save, Thine ear can list each bitter moan.<br> +Hark! Ethel's voice, she comes, and not alone!</p> + + + + +<h2>Twelve Month's After.</h2> + + + +<p>Still rolleth onward time's mystical tide,<br> + Ebbing and flowing by night and day;<br> +Gladness and misery scattering wide,<br> + Gladness and misery turning away.</p> + +<p>Fair Spring has been with her emerald leaves,<br> + Red Summer with roses of crimson ray,<br> +Brown Autumn has passed with its golden sheaves,<br> + Again St. John the Evangelist's day.</p> + +<p>Since the morning came, Masonic bands<br> + Have gathered, old friendship's ties to renew;<br> +True hands have been clasped in a brother's hands,<br> + Calm rest and refreshment fall like dew.</p> + +<p>Far over the roll of the billowy seas,<br> + Strangers have met on the lodge-room floor,<br> +And like Israel encamped beneath Elim's trees,<br> + Have thirsted for love's cool draught no more.</p> + +<p>From the ice-wrought chain of the Arctic zone,<br> + To the silver-lit sands of rich Peru;<br> +From the shores which guard Victoria's throne,<br> + To the woods of the west, unshorn and new.</p> + +<p>In the crowded street, full of noise and cheer,<br> + In hamlets and villages, still and calm;<br> +Where the northern bear glides cold and clear,<br> + Or the southern cross tints the sacred palm.</p> + +<p>Over the face of this wonderful earth,<br> + Templars haye met in Encampment dear,<br> +Prisoners of hope have changed sighing for rest,<br> + Pilgrims have tarried where angels were near.</p> + +<p>Souls that were longing for far better things,<br> + Their faith growing dulled by the Siroc's blight,<br> +Have shaken the dust from their weary wings,<br> + And plumed them again for a higher flight.</p> + +<p>They have spoke of the work of the by-gone year,<br> + Of Ashlers now perfected true and square,<br> +Of weary hands folded upon the bier,<br> + Of souls passed on to a lodge room fair.</p> + +<p>They have told of storms from the North, so chill,<br> + How dark was the South when the daylight ceased;<br> +They have watched the sun neath the Western hill,<br> + They have hailed his light in the holy East.</p> + +<p>They have sang of the victor knights whose swords,<br> + Are sharpened to slay the dark hosts of sin;<br> +Still marching on through Saracen hordes,<br> + Till the King's Encampment at last they win.</p> + +<p>They have knelt in prayer round the altar's shade,<br> + And implored what man never asks in vain,<br> +That creation's Grand Architect will aid,<br> + The builders to build till calm rest they gain.</p> + +<p>Brave hearts have brightened love's armor anew,<br> + And so shall the magical spell last on,<br> +Till all who have worked by his pattern true,<br> + Shall meet face to face their beloved St. John.</p> + +<p>Within the dwelling of Victor Roy,<br> + A fair girl awakens soft music's power,<br> +And a woman listens in silent joy,<br> + To the thrilling strains at that quiet hour.</p> + +<p>"Ethel, my child, cease playing, come to me,<br> +There, lean your head upon your mother's knee,<br> +Do you remember dear what night this is?<br> +Look back at last St. John's day, then at this,<br> +You've often wondered why upon that night,<br> +When you my guide led from the gloom to light;<br> +That when you gave the name Adair it seemed,<br> +To him who heard it, as if he had dreamed.<br> +Like a dim funeral knell from some old chime,<br> +Heard years ago, in some far distant clime,<br> +Ethel, we should speak kindly of the dead,<br> +Unable to defend themselves, their spirits fled<br> +To worlds unknown to us, we cannot see<br> +The homes they occupy, the destiny<br> +It pleases God to give them, this we know<br> +That our reaping must be what we sow,<br> +If we plant thistles, we the thorn shall meet,<br> +If we sow ripe grains, we shall harvest wheat,<br> +And something else we know of future life,<br> +That be the memories of war and strife,<br> +Of evil thoughts which may have been controlled<br> +Of hearts through which wild passions unchecked rolled;<br> +Of base mean deeds that burn like felon brand,<br> +In the pure sunlight of the eternal land;<br> +Or if sweet recollections of the past,<br> +Of homes where love her golden radiance cast,<br> +Of deeds of mercy unto man unknown,<br> +But breathing incense to the star-gemmed throne;<br> +We know that not one of Adamic race,<br> +Is unknown unto Him, the Lord of Grace,<br> +And with the thoughts that shape themselves to prayer,<br> +We can but leave them in His gracious care,<br> +Who, as sharp nails were piercing each vein through,<br> +Prayed 'Father forgive, they know not what they do,'<br> +And preached of mercy to the souls in prison,<br> +Ere He from the well guarded tomb had risen;<br> +So darling think as gently as you may,<br> +On one you saw so sadly pass away.<br> +But duty bids me tell you, deeds of shame,<br> +Stamped dark dishonor on our household name,<br> +When we were living in the distant west,<br> +A trouble came; grief was no stranger guest,<br> +For racking fears sad day and anxious night,<br> +Seemed to hold life-long leases as their right,<br> +The trouble came through some high words at play.<br> +All I know was before noon next day,<br> +A letter came bidding me leave that night;<br> +Bring what I could and let none know my flight,<br> +To change my name, and if need be to swear<br> +I never knew 'Montrose' only 'Adair.'<br> +Part truth, part falsehood born of inward shame,<br> +That sank the true one for the middle name,<br> +I heard that dark red stains ended a strife<br> +Began in so-called play, and closed with life.<br> +I know for many months a namless dread,<br> +Hung like the sword of Damocles overhead,<br> +And we again had crossed the stormy main<br> +And hid away among the hills of Spain,<br> +But when you were an infant, nurse and I<br> +Took you one morning ere the sun was high,<br> +And in the little church covered with vines,<br> +O'er which the setting sun in glory shines,<br> +We gave you into the good Shepherd's Care<br> +Amid our falling tears and Heaven sent prayer;<br> +And there without respect to friends or foes,<br> +Stands your true name, Ethel Adair Montrose.<br> +My child before you close your eyes to-night,<br> +With no forebodings for to-morrow's light,<br> +Return your heartfelt thanks to Him whose hand<br> +Has led us safely through a desert land,<br> +Has kept our feet on many a slippery way,<br> +And guided us from midnight to the day,<br> +Lay at the Glorious Giver's blessed feet,<br> +All that he asks, your time that passes fleet,<br> +Your heart's first holiest love, your talents give<br> +To him who scorned not death, that we may live."</p> + +<p> Mother, I'll not forget,<br> +To ask rich blessings upon you and him,<br> +Whom God sent as a life boat to the lost,<br> +A year ago to-night, when on the dim<br> +Dark seas of woe, our bark was tempest toss'd,<br> + The sun of hope had set.<br> +<br> + I'm glad I went to-day,<br> +And laid a cross upon that snow-strewn grave,<br> +The sun gleamed out and on the white leaves burned,<br> +It seems as if the childhood love, I gave<br> +The one that calmly sleeps there, had returned<br> + Watch to keep o'er his clay.<br> +<br> + And yet it's not the same<br> +In quality, the love I cherish now<br> +Has more of pity perhaps; another one<br> +Has surely right to my allegiance; how<br> +Can I forget all he for us has done?<br> + Hark! now he calls my name.</p> + +<p>Ethel! where are you, there is the group you were speaking about one day,<br> +Do you know the faces, two you love best, then drive those tears away,<br> +What is there to cry for child, in a locket that's new and bright,<br> +It was to have been your Christmas gift, but it's just as good to-night,<br> +It bears the name of the day you came to spoil my dog and cat,<br> +My birds and me too I'm afraid, if you say much more like that.<br> +Sing me something instead, it's scarcely supper time yet--my child;<br> +I see you are weary, go and rest while these winter winds blow wild,<br> +Ethel, before you say 'good night,' we will sing "Abide with me,"<br> +As I heard it twenty-six years ago the night I went to sea.</p> + +<p>And softly upon the evening air,<br> + The strain of praise from true hearts was given<br> +And angels wafted the holy prayer,<br> + Like incense up to the throne of Heaven.</p> + +<p>"Good night, sweet Ethel," a silence fell<br> + Solemn and calm, by no whisper broke,<br> +Two sat watching the fire, a spell<br> + Seemed holding each, until Victor spoke.</p> + +<p>"Of what are you thinking so earnestly, you fancy I know the thought,<br> +That has grown to deep for utterance, with strange sad memories fraught,<br> +A year, a memorable year ago, yes, we shall ne'er forget,<br> +That day of St. John the Evangelist, that night when two old friends met,<br> +'Twas a dreary watching too my love, all that night in solemn gloom,<br> +Where the dead lay cold and silently, waiting his lonely tomb,<br> +I am glad that Ethel went to-day, and laid a cross on that grave,<br> +I am glad that we each can truly say at the judgement day, 'I forgave,'<br> +I read some lines the other day, that may have been written for us,<br> +Heart histories repeat themselves like others, the lines ran thus:</p> + +<p>"And midnight wearily stole on,<br> + Heavy clouds o'er the young moon swept,<br> +We looked out upon life and prayed<br> + We looked upon the dead and wept,<br> +That God can work while man looks on,<br> + That truth will triumph o'er our dread,<br> +A lesson sometimes hard to learn,<br> + We learnt while watching by the dead.</p> + +<p>'Twas not a scene that lovers choose,<br> + Did any say that we had loved,<br> +The dead was by us, yet we knew,<br> + That we were living and beloved,<br> +Truth's talisman was on each heart<br> + Oh was there sin in what we said,<br> +The troubles told, the truth confessed,<br> + The night we watched beside the dead."</p> + +<p>Aimee, look at this jewel rich, I have worn it the live long day,<br> +You think I value it, so I do, yet I deem it worthless clay,<br> +Compared with the other jewel rare, this Keystone brought to me,<br> +Bright gem, long hidden but not destroyed in some unfathomed sea,<br> +More honorable than golden fleece, more precious than the stone,<br> +That alchemysts seek vainly for, or gems of a regal crown,<br> +A Keystone brought to light once more, all uninjured by the storm,<br> +The rains of fire that have swept round my other jewel's form,<br> +For the fire doth but clear the dross, the waves but wash the dust,<br> +From off the jewels of purest gold, such jewels I hold in trust,<br> +For I should have claimed you still as mine, if we never more had met,<br> +Till free from stain of sorrow or sin we stand where hope's suns ne'er set,<br> +Where angels live on, in their life of love, unchanged yet ever new,<br> +And then the time, God's own right time would have come for my taking you,<br> +For this re-union upon earth, is the sign, beloved wife<br> +Of the eternal rest we'll share in the bright hereafter life;<br> +For have we not assurance blest, that whichever first goes home,<br> +Will await with loving patience, till the other one shall come,</p> + +<p>Unto those who wear God's blessed seal upon each united heart,<br> +Those words must half their horror lose 'until death do you part,'<br> +For true love doth dissolve death's power, as spring's suns melt the snow,<br> +'Tis the only password at the gates, through which we both must go,<br> +Where born of that benevolence which fills our Father's breast,<br> +Angelic masons now prepare our special house of rest,<br> +God's promises will never fail, if we but wait His hours,<br> +He sends His messages of peace, like His rainbow after showers,<br> +O'er one beam of that holy arch, this scroll now seems to glide,<br> +"After the dark and dreary day, it shall be light at eventide."</p> + + + + + +<h1>Miscellaneous Pieces</h1> + + + + +<h2>Mist and Sunshine.</h2> + + + +<p>I looked, and the mist had hidden<br> + Streamlet and gorge and mountain,<br> +Mansion and church had vanished away,<br> + No trace of tree or fountain.<br> +Mist, on the roof where birdlings wake<br> + The strains of old love stories,<br> +Mist, like tears on the roses' cheek,<br> + In cups of the morning glories.</p> + +<p><br> +"Ah, like life, 'said my heart to me,'<br> + Only a world of sorrow,<br> +The lips you love, the hands you clasp,<br> + Are cold and strange to-morrow.<br> +Mists on the stream of by-gone days,<br> + Where are your childhood bowers?<br> +Mists on the path of coming years.<br> + Where are your household flowers?"</p> + +<p>I looked again; a sunbeam bright<br> + Had shot through the heavy mist;<br> +It drew the rose to its glowing breast,<br> + And the morning glories kissed.<br> +The spire of the Ascension Church<br> + Flashed out like St. 'Michael's sword,<br> +When girt with glowing armor, he<br> + Doeth battle for his Lord.</p> + +<p>Each moment some high roof or tower,<br> + Some flush of the maple leaves,<br> +Grew fair to sight, the birdlings sang<br> + In nests on the sun-lit eaves;<br> +And Nature bathed in living light,<br> + As if she renewed her birth,<br> +The Universal Father smiled<br> + Through his sunbeam, on the earth.</p> + +<p>"Ah, now my heart, so sad and cold<br> + With mists of its repining,<br> +What will thou say to see once more<br> + The cloud with silver lining?"<br> +Source of light! when I leave this sphere,<br> + Grant me a vision like this,<br> +Mists and shadows rolling away<br> + From the Paradise of bliss.</p> + +<p>May I look thus on mounts of God,<br> + The flash of temple spires,<br> +And hear the deathless singers chant<br> + From their harmonious lyres;<br> +So may I close mine eyes on earth,<br> + While heaven's pure light is breaking,<br> +And some I know will fold me close,<br> + In arms of love awaking.</p> + + + + +<h2>Charge to the Knight of Malta</h2> + +<p align="center"><i>Air--Stephenos</i></p> + + + +<p>Lo, a knight in armour standing,<br> + Ready for the foe;<br> +Thee we greet, belov'd Companion,<br> + Thee we know.</p> + +<p>Keep thine oath, oh new made soldier,<br> + Pledged in heaven's sight;<br> +Nor forget the vow thou'st taken,<br> + Malta's knight.</p> + +<p>By the banner, o'er us waving,<br> + By thy lance at rest,<br> +Chiefly by that Cross emblazoned<br> + On thy breast.</p> + +<p>In the heat of danger's trial,<br> + Dare the fiercest fight;<br> +No desertion, no denial,<br> + Right or life!</p> + +<p>See thou turn not from the conflict,<br> + On the battle field,<br> +Though men bear a dying soldier<br> + On thy shield.</p> + +<p>Let thy strong arm shield the helpless,<br> + And the feeble save;<br> +Mercy's voice the true knight knoweth,<br> + And the brave.</p> + +<p>Welcome, dear Sir Knight, thrice welcome!<br> + To our tented field;<br> +God will aid us till the final<br> + Foe shall yield.</p> + +<p>We are pledged unto His kingdom,<br> + Who for us hath borne<br> +Cross and spear, for us did suffer<br> + Crown of thorn.</p> + +<p>Then, for Him who rose triumphant<br> + To the heavenly Lamp,<br> +Gird thy sword though night surround thee,<br> + Wild and damp.</p> + +<p>When at last, in mortal weakness,<br> + Sword and spear must fall,<br> +Christ, unto Thy Grand Encampment,<br> + Take us all. + + + + +<h2>The Curl of Gold.</h2> + + + +<p>How wildly blows the wintry wind, deep lies the drifting snow<br> +On the hillside, and the roadside, and the valleys down below;<br> +And up the gorge all through last night the rushing storm flew fast,<br> +And there old walls and casements were rattling in the blast.<br> +Lady, I had a dream last night, born of the storm and pain,<br> +I dreamed it was the time of spring; but the clouds were black with rain.<br> +I thought that I was on the bay, a good way out from shore<br> +Alone, and feeling much afraid at the wild tempest's roar,<br> +I tried to reach the distant land, but could not find the way,<br> +And suddenly my boat capsized far out upon the bay.<br> +I shrieked in wildest agony amid the thunder shock,<br> +When I heard you saying unto me, "Beneath us is a Rock,<br> +Trust not to me, these waves are strong, but lift your tear-dimmed eye--<br> +That star will lead us to the rock that higher is than I."<br> +And through the drenching wave and surf, together on we passed,<br> +Till the bright green slopes of Hamilton shone clearly out at last.<br> +It seemed so strange, we stepped ashore, your garments were all dry,<br> +And, holding hands as we do now, I heard you say "good-bye."<br> +Dear lady, now I see it all, those blessed words you said<br> +Were with me in the storm last night, like angels round my bed.<br> +"So many and great dangers that we cannot stand upright,"<br> +"Defend us by thy mercy, from all perils of this night."<br> +Lady, I am a mother, none know it here save you;<br> +Don't blush for me, there is no shame, I am a wife, leal and true.<br> +Lady, true love is born of heaven, we may deem it dead and past,<br> +And sit with bowed down head alone, the heart's door closed and fast;<br> +When suddenly we hear a voice, and spite of bolt or bar,<br> +Like its dear Master, there it stands, stretching its arms afar;<br> +Though buried up it rises, though dead it lives anew,<br> +And breathes again its Master's words, "Sweet peace be unto you,"<br> +Folks say, "There is a mystery about that poor sick girl,"<br> +Lady, there's mystery round us all, that angels will unfurl,<br> +I have one favor now to ask, within this paper's fold,<br> +There's a little lock of baby's hair, just half one curl of gold,<br> +When I am in my coffin, and soon now I'll be at rest,<br> +Will you lay this little curl of gold upon my quiet breast,<br> +God and the angels only know where the other half lies hid,<br> +In the green sod of old Ireland, neath a baby's coffin lid,<br> +Don't'leave me yet, it is near night, I feel so strange to-day,<br> +You know the prayers for dying ones, oh kneel once more and pray,<br> +Thank God for sending one to me, where the wild tempests roll,<br> +You won't forget--the little curl--Saviour receive my soul.</p> + + + + +<h2>Holy Communion.</h2> + + + +<p>We were wearied in the battle,<br> + Tempted, and pained, and tried<br> +By day the din and the carnage,<br> + By night the rain's fierce tide;<br> +But we heard a loving message,<br> + From the Prince's tent it came,<br> +"Each meet in the banqueting house.<br> + In memory of my name."</p> + +<p>We gathered; a motley regiment,<br> + Some young in the war of life,<br> +Some chiefs in the Royal Army,<br> + Some old and sick with strife,<br> +Some limped in the sacred pathway,<br> + Some were foot sore and worn,<br> +Some had their lances all shivered,<br> + Some had their banners torn.</p> + +<p>And we all looked dim and dusty;<br> + We all were stained with sin;<br> +But we held the Prince's message,<br> + And the porter said "Come in."<br> +We went to the banqueting house;<br> + We sat at the Prince's board,<br> +There we polished each his helmet,<br> + We sharpened each his sword.</p> + +<p>Our Prince--we talked of his strife,<br> + The forlorn hope He had led,<br> +How He opened the gates of life,<br> + And rescued from Death the dead;<br> +And with Him we saw a bright host,<br> + Our comrades gone on before,<br> +The right wing of our army<br> + Upon the farther shore.</p> + +<p>And the festering wound was healed.<br> + The banners were made whole,<br> +Mists rolled back from the almost blind,<br> + Faith lit each warrior's soul;<br> +We drank of the fruit of the vine,<br> + We ate the living bread,<br> +The holy benediction fell,<br> + With healing on each head.</p> + +<p>We entered in poor worn soldiers,<br> + We came out bolder knights,<br> +To march on to the Prince's battle,<br> + And war for His glorious rights,<br> +For had we not each re-taken<br> + The oath of allegiance high,<br> +And sworn round the Royal Standard<br> + To conquer, or to die.</p> + + + + +<h2>Song of Azael.</h2> + + + +<p>I heard the voice of the Death Angel speak,<br> + As slowly he pass'd me by,<br> +And I saw him throw snow on the crimson cheek,<br> + And darken the laughing eye.<br> +I saw him glide down through many a street;<br> + Tears followed him like spring rain;<br> +And yet ever unheeding tears or prayers,<br> + He mattered his wild wild refrain,<br> +"Come away with me, sweet baby so bright,<br> +I love the young flowers of the rosebud's hue,<br> +What? mother would keep thee always in sight,<br> +And see the sad tears in those eyes so blue.<br> + Come with me, little one.<br> +All thorns and crosses for you are done,<br> +Mother will meet thee where all is fair,<br> +Grown to the height of the angels there.<br> + Quiet and deep,<br> + Be now thy sleep,<br> + Baby, so white.</p> + +<p>For thou shalt travel where sorrow and strife<br> +Never shall darken thy pathway again.<br> +Azael must take home to the Lord of Life<br> +The darlings He bought on the cross with pain.<br> + Ah! you smile, little one.<br> +Pleasure and glory for you are won,<br> +Near to the angels, you're not afraid<br> +Of going with me far into the shade.<br> + The casket grows cold,<br> + The jewel I hold,<br> + For hearts of love.</p> + +<p>Come along with me, thou trader in gold,<br> +Many have turned from thy office to-day.<br> +Thou hast no time to consider the claim<br> +Of the wronged or helpless who crossed thy way.<br> + You shudder, trembling one.<br> +Close up the ledger, business is done.<br> +Let you stay till your vessel comes in?<br> +I'll take you far from the market's din,<br> + And you'll have time,<br> + In that strange clime,<br> + To meditate.</p> + +<p>For thou wilt awaken, I would not hold.<br> +If I could, the past from memory's ken.<br> +I fancy that other ledgers unfold,<br> +Their pages for some of you business men;<br> + Rest to night, tired one.<br> +Not half of your merchandise is done?<br> +The steamers, the banks, the corn exchange?<br> +No, Azael deals not in notes or change;<br> + He keeps no gold,<br> + In his fingers cold,<br> + He takes no bribe.</p> + +<p>Come along with me, sweet lady so fair,<br> +Who told thee I was so grim and so cold;<br> +Know you that I covet that sunny hair,<br> +And those delicate arms's caressing fold;<br> + Fear me not, gentle one.<br> +What if the hymn and the task are done,<br> +In my arms there is far calmer rest,<br> +Then thou wilt find on thy lover's breast.<br> + Sleep, sleep for awhile,<br> + Then waken to smile,<br> + Ever and aye.</p> + +<p>True life is progressive, my lady fair,<br> +And thou wilt re-open those radiant eyes;<br> +Think you that I have no burden of care,<br> +Azael has to account for each prize.<br> + Banish doubt, gentle one.<br> +Quicksands and pitfalls for thee are all done;<br> +Human love may ere long deceive thee,<br> +But Azael's love will never leave thee<br> + Till those earth-dim eyes<br> + Look on Paradise,<br> + Never to weep.</p> + +<p>The song of Azael melted away,<br> + On the solemn midnight's bieath,<br> +I thought of the talents, the oilless lamps--<br> + Oh, Azael, Angel of Death,<br> +I know that ere long thou wilt come for me.<br> + Immanuel, Lord of life,<br> +By Thy victory gained on the bitter cross,<br> + Save in that hour of strife. + + + + + +<h2>Only a Story</h2> + + + +<p>Let me tell you a story, dear,<br> + Of someone I saw to-day,<br> +Only a man with a pale worn face,<br> + And auburn locks grown gray,<br> +One, I thought would never again,<br> + Come over my pathway here,<br> +One, I still hope to meet forgiven,<br> + In a better brighter sphere.</p> + +<p>Why did you start, he knew me, yes,<br> + A flush as of pain, or pride,<br> +Pass'd swiftly o'er the pale stern face,<br> + And the high white forehead dyed,<br> +I heard the roll of carriage wheels,<br> + Unthinkingly raised my eyes,<br> +One glance flashed out beneatt thosee Brows,<br> + Like lightening across the skies.</p> + +<p>Shudder not dear, 'tis he who grieves,<br> + Not I in my lonely life,<br> +I have a calm bright future now,<br> + He? well, he has gold and strife,<br> +They say that oft by the heaving lake,<br> + He wanders about alone,<br> +Waves that dash on the sandy beach,<br> + Answer his throbbing heart's moan.</p> + +<p>Once or twice has been heard a name<br> + As if wrung with torturous pain,<br> +From lips to sacred silence sworn,<br> + Told only to storms and rain.<br> +He leaves the light of gilded halls,<br> + To clasp in the midnight air,<br> +Some flowers that faded years ago,<br> + One lock of a girl's dark hair.</p> + +<p>Ask me not with those pleading eyes,<br> + If I dream about him yet;<br> +Is anything colder to your touch,<br> + Than ashes with rain-drops wet?<br> +What is harder to kindle up,<br> + Than lava grown black and cold,<br> +That once from burning mountain's heart,<br> + In fiery grandeur rolled.</p> + +<p>Pity him, pray for him, that is well,<br> + Married for jewels and gold,<br> +Vipers crawl from the caskets bright,<br> + And they keep his fingers cold.<br> +Only a flush of pain or pride,<br> + When to-day our glances met,<br> +He in his gorgeous wealth arrayed,<br> + I, out in the cold and wet.</p> + +<p>Hush; as we sow we surely reap,<br> + Yes, he has a wife and gold,<br> +Broad lands, a mansion white and tall<br> + Like an iceberg grand and cold,<br> +I? I've the blessings of the poor,<br> + Which fall like the gentle dew,<br> +I've claims on mansions far away,<br> + I have life, and love, and <i>you</i>.</p> + + + + +<h2>Daybreak.</h2> + + + +<p>Turn thy fair face to the breaking dawn,<br> +Lily so white, that through all the dark,<br> +Hast kept lone watch on the dewy lawn,<br> +Deeming thy comrades grown cold and stark;<br> +Soon shall the sunbeam, joyous and strong,<br> +Dry the tears in thy stamens of gold--<br> +Glinteth the day up merry and long,<br> + And the night grows old.</p> + +<p>Turn thy fair face to Faith's rosy sky,<br> +Soul so white that lone night hath kept<br> +Sighing for spirits sin-bound that lie;<br> +Wrong has ruled right, and the truth has slept;<br> +The dawn shall show thee a host ere long,<br> +Planting sweet roses abqve the mould;<br> +The sun of righteousness beameth strong,<br> + And sin's night grows old.</p> + +<p>Turn thine eyes to the burnished zone<br> +From out of thy nest neath darkened eaves,<br> +Oh bird, who hast mingled thy plaintive moan<br> +With sobbing winds through quivering leaves;<br> +From thy heart, by light which groweth strong,<br> +Draw out the thorns that pierced on the world;<br> +Glinteth the day up merry and long,<br> + And the night grows old.</p> + +<p>Turn thy sad eyes to God's summerland,<br> +Mourner, who waileth some love laid past,<br> +Some bark that has anchored on foreign strand<br> +And left her sailors free from the blast;<br> +They are not here where the grass grows long,<br> +They are not down in the red-brown mould;<br> +Heaven's day is coming up fair and strong,<br> + And earth's night grows old.</p> + + + + +<h2>The Wife's Watch.</h2> + + + +<p>Sleep on, my darling, sleep on,<br> +I am keeping watch by your side,<br> +I have drawn in the curtains close,<br> +And banished the world outside;<br> +Rest as the reaper may rest,<br> +When the harvest work is done<br> +Rest as the soldier may rest,<br> +When the victor's work is won.</p> + +<p>You smile in your happy sleep:<br> +Are the children with you now?<br> +Sweet baby Willie, so early called,<br> +And Nellie with thoughtful brow,<br> +And May, our loving daughter.<br> +Ah, the skies grew dark, my love,<br> +When the sunshine of her presence<br> +Vanished to Heaven above.</p> + +<p>While you're resting, my darling,<br> +I dream of the shadowy hour,<br> +When one of us looks the last<br> +On the light of its household bower,<br> +Then a sad sigh heaves my breast,<br> +And tears from my eyelids burst,<br> +As I ask of the future dim,<br> +"Which shall be summoned first?"</p> + +<p>Sometimes I pray in terror<br> +That you may be first to go,<br> +Never again to sorrow,<br> +Or to feel one throb of woe,<br> +Beyond the mists of the river,<br> +Where mystic shadows weave,<br> +I have no fears, my beloved,<br> +In One we both believe.</p> + +<p>But I, oh I so lonely,<br> +Could I look as I look now,<br> +If this was thy last long sleep,<br> +The ice of death on thy brow;<br> +In sight of the holy angels,<br> +I offer my earnest plea,<br> +I cry to my God and pray,<br> +"If one goes first, take me."</p> + +<p>Our lives have been happy dear,<br> +I fancy the tears we shed,<br> +By our lost children's coffins.<br> +On faces white and dead,<br> +Are counted as dew drops now,<br> +On the flowers early sown<br> +In the gardens of Paradise,<br> +The Lord's, and still our own.</p> + +<p>So we'll leave the future dim,<br> +Take the sunshine as we go,<br> +And when we come to the brink,<br> +Where black waves ebb and flow,<br> +We'll trust the voice which summons,<br> +The love that has ever kept,<br> +To fold in his arms one taken,<br> +To lead by His hand one left. + + + + +<h2>Adoniram.</h2> + +<h3>A Legend of the Temple.</h3> + + + +<p> The dew was gone,<br> +The morn was bright, the skies were fair,<br> +The flowers smiled neath the sunbeams ray,<br> +Tall cedars grew in beauty there.<br> +As Adoniram took his way,<br> + To Lebanon.</p> + +<p> Praise his heart filled,<br> +More than four hundred years had fled,<br> +Since from stern Egypt marched the bands,<br> +Whose sons, with Solomon at their head,<br> +And Tyrian brethern's skilful hands,<br> + Prepare to build.</p> + +<p> He watched them there,<br> +Round every block, and every stone,<br> +Masonic implements were laid,<br> +But around <i>one</i> were many thrown,<br> +And yet it seemed already made,<br> + Tried, true and square.</p> + +<p> He wandering spake,<br> +"Are not all from one mountain brought<br> +As jewels for a diadem,<br> +Why, have they at this one stone wrought,<br> +Will not all see Jerusalem.<br> + One house to make?"</p> + +<p> The Widow's son<br> +Smiled kindly in his brother's face,<br> +And said "All are made ready here,<br> +But not all fill the same high place,<br> +The Corner stone this will be near,<br> + When toil is done."</p> + +<p> The listener bent,<br> +His eyes on the unfinished stone,<br> +And found himself a wiser man,<br> +Through that rough child of mountains lone,<br> +A ray of the Grand Master's plan,<br> + To him was sent.</p> + +<p> From Masonry,<br> +That just man learnt that woes are thrown<br> +Around God's children, pain and care,<br> +But draw them near the corner stone,<br> +With the Great Architect to share,<br> + Heaven's blazonry. + + + + +<h2>Songs in the Night.</h2> + +<blockquote>"Where is God my Maker, Who giveth songs in the night."--Bible.</blockquote> + + + +<p>The hour of midnight had swept past,<br> + The city bell tolled three,<br> +The moon had sank behind the clouds,<br> + No rustling in the tree.<br> +All, all was silent as the grave,<br> + And memories of the tomb,<br> +Had banished sweet sleep far away,<br> + All spoke of tears and gloom.</p> + +<p>When suddenly upon the air.<br> + Rang out a sweet bird's song,<br> +No feeble, weak, uncertain note,<br> + No plaint of grief or wrong,<br> +No "Miserere Domine,"<br> + No "Dies Irea" sad,<br> +But "Gloria in Excelsis" rang,<br> + In accents wild and glad.</p> + +<p>How could he sing? a birdling caged,<br> + And in the dark alone,<br> +And then methought that he had seen,<br> + Some vision from God's throne,<br> +The little birdling's eyes were bright,<br> + While mine with tears were dim,<br> +Had some bright watcher glided by,<br> + And spake in joy to him?</p> + +<p>Then I remembered what Christ said,<br> + The God of love's dear Son,<br> +"Not one of these small birds forgot<br> + Beneath the glorious sun."<br> +They have no load of grief to bear,<br> + Of sin no dark, deep stain,<br> +And yet in patience take their share<br> + Of storm, and frost and rain.</p> + +<p>Oh, can it be unknown to us,<br> + Without one human word,<br> +The universal Father soothes<br> + The death-bed of each bird;<br> +"The whole creation groaneth," yet<br> + These pure things of the sky,<br> +Are they not nearer to the gates<br> + Than mortals such as I?</p> + +<p>Yet while I mused, it seemed some form,<br> + Ere yet I was aware,<br> +Bent o'er my pillow, dried my tears,<br> + And turned to sing my prayer;<br> +Some subtle presence unrevealed,<br> + Seemed to repeat the words,<br> +"Fear not, for you are dearer far,<br> + Than many little birds."</p> + +<p>I do not ask what seemed to speak;<br> + Whether the angel blest,<br> +Who hath been my appointed guard<br> + In calm or wild unrest;<br> +Or whether some sweet voice I love,<br> + But hushed to me a while,<br> +Came down on gentle mission sent,<br> + To change for tears a smile.</p> + +<p>It matters not; God knows faith's wings<br> + Droop sometimes in the dust,<br> +And hands grow weak and lose their hold<br> + On Hope's firm anchor trust;<br> +And so, while sending dew and rain,<br> + And glowing sunbeams bright.<br> +God giveth unto those who hear,<br> + Songs in the darkest night.</p> + + + + +<h2>In Memoriam.</h2> + + + +<p> They are gone away,<br> +No prayers could avail us to longer keep<br> +The ships called out on the unknown deep,<br> +We saw them sail off, some lingeringly,<br> +Some suddenly summoned put out to sea;<br> +They stepped aboard, and the planks were drawn in,<br> +But their sweet, pale faces were free from sin;<br> +As they turned to whisper one last good bye,<br> +We sent after each one a bitter cry;<br> + We knew on that track,<br> + They would never come back,<br> + By night or day.</p> + +<p> Ah, we've closed dear eyes,<br> +But God be thanked that they, one and all,<br> +Had the heaven light touch them before the pall;<br> +They saw the fair land that we could not see,<br> +And one said, "Jesus is standing by me,"<br> +And one, "The water of life I hear,"<br> +And one, "There's no suffering nor sorrow here,"<br> +One, "I have seen the city of countless charms,"<br> +One, "'Neath me are the Everlasting Arms,"<br> + So we know it is best,<br> + They should be at rest,<br> + In God's paradise.</p> + +<p> Mary's Blessed Son,<br> +Thou wilt not chide if thou see'st that low<br> +Our harps are hanging on willow bough;<br> +We would not murmur, we know it is well,<br> +They are gone from the battle, the shot and shell,<br> +And in our anguish we're not alone;<br> +The Father knows all the grief we have known;<br> +Oh God, who once heard the Christ's bitter cry,<br> +Thou knowest what we feel when we see them die.<br> + Our light, has been hid<br> + By the coffin lid,<br> + And dark our noon.</p> + +<p> God hears our moan,<br> +He knows how a stricken heart had said,<br> +"Oh, number her not with the silent dead,<br> +For if she stays watching the golden sea,<br> +God help, for what will become of me?<br> +The last rose out of my childhood's bower,<br> +From my English garden, the last sweet flower;<br> +Take me instead, for none call me mother."<br> +The messenger said, "I take no other."<br> + So she went the road<br> + The others have trod,<br> + And I am alone.</p> + +<p> We shall meet again;<br> +I fancy sometimes how they talk together,<br> +Of the way they travelled, the stormy weather<br> +That beat so hard on their pilgrim road,<br> +Now changed for the city of their God;<br> +I wonder if in their special home,<br> +They keep choice rooms till their darlings come.<br> +Saviour, who loves them, protect and guide me<br> +Where they are waiting 'neath life's fadeless tree,<br> + Father and mother,<br> + And elder brother,<br> + And sisters twain. + + + + +<h2>A Song of the Flowers.</h2> + + + +<p>"Why are you weeping, ye gentle flowers?<br> +Are ye not blest in your sunny bowers?<br> +Have you startling dreams that make ye weep,<br> +When waking up from your holy sleep?</p> + +<p>"Ah, knowest thou not, we fold at night,<br> +The tears earth drops from her eyelids bright,<br> +Like a loving mother her griefs are born,<br> +Lest her tender nurslings should die ere morn,<br> +And the sweet dew falls in each open cup,<br> +Till the eyes of morn are lifted up;<br> +We unfold our leaves to the sun's bright face,<br> +And close them up at the night's embrace.</p> + +<p>Dost thou ask if grief comes creeping across,<br> +From the poplar bough to the dark green moss?<br> +No, round us the sunbeams smile and glow,<br> +Round us the streamlets dance and flow,<br> +And the zephyr comes with its gentle breeze,<br> +To sigh out its life in the young green trees,<br> +And then from the beds where the flowers grow,<br> +Rises a melody soft and low.</p> + +<p>And the glorious rose with her flushing face,<br> +And the fuschia with her form of grace,<br> +The balsam bright, and the lupin's crest,<br> +That weaves a roof for the firefly's nest;<br> +The myrtle clusters, and dahlia tall,<br> +The jessamine fairest among them all;<br> +And the tremulous lips of the lily's bell,<br> +Join in the music we love so well."</p> + +<p>"But startle ye not when the tempests blow?<br> +Have you no dread of a wily foe?<br> +Do you not tremble, when the serpents hiss<br> +Mid leaves that the zephyr alone should kiss?</p> + +<p>Lady, the bells of the fainting flowers<br> +Close at the coming of thunder showers;<br> +The branches and tendrils merrily dance<br> +At the whirlwind's cry, and the lightning's glance.<br> +We dread not to see the snake's back of gold?<br> +Dart through the lilacs or marigold,<br> +For fears that dwell in the human breast,<br> +Find in the heart of flowers no rest.</p> + +<p>We have no fears when we hear thee pass<br> +Over the fold of the tangled grass,<br> +We have no dread when we hear thee breathe<br> +Over the flowers we love to wreathe,<br> +Nor tremble when night falls from heaven above,<br> +And nature is stillness and earth is love;<br> +We steal from thy keeping when summer is o'er,<br> +And wait thee where flowers can die no more." + + + + +<h2>The Cities of Old.</h2> + + + +<p>Cities and men, and nations, have passed by,<br> +Like leaves upon an autumn's dreary sky;<br> +Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud,<br> +Like drops of rain on summer's fleecy cloud;<br> +Like flowers of a wilderness,<br> +Vanished into forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>O! Nineveh, thou city of young Ashur's pride,<br> +With thy strong towers, and thy bulwarks wide;<br> +Ah! while upon thee splashed the Tigris' waters,<br> +How little thought thy wealth-stored sons and daughters,</p> + +<p>That Cyaxerses and his troops should wait<br> +Three long years before thy massive gate;<br> +Then Medes and Persians, by the torches' light,<br> +Should ride triumphantly thy streets by night;<br> +And from creation banish thee,<br> +O! Nineveh. O! Nineveh.</p> + +<p>And country of the pride of Mizriam's heart,<br> +With pyramids that speak thy wealth and art,<br> +Why is it that no minstrel comes, who sings<br> +Of all the glory of thy shepherd kings?<br> +Tyre, why are thy walls in ruins thus?<br> +Why is thy name so seldom spoke by us?<br> +Sidon, among the nations thou art fled,<br> +Thy joy departed and thy glory dead;<br> +Far gone ere all thy generations,<br> +Fallen nations! Fallen nations!</p> + +<p>And Babylon, with all thy thronging bands,<br> +The glory of Chaldea's ancient lands;<br> +Thy temple, where a numerous host was seen,<br> +Thy gardens hung to please the Midian queen;<br> +Where beauteous flowers smiled on their terrace beds,<br> +Proud kings have passed through thee, and crowned heads;<br> +And grandeur and magnificence could view<br> +In thee a resting place--thy stores not few;<br> +Why is it thou art all alone?<br> +O! Babylon. O! Babylon.</p> + +<p>And Greece, who shone in literature and might,<br> +When Marathon's broad plains saw sword and fight;<br> +Thy monumental ruins stand alone,<br> +Decay has breathed upon thy sculptured stone<br> +And desolation walks thy princely halls,<br> +The green branch twines around thy olden walls;<br> +And ye who stood the ten years' siege of Troy,<br> +Time's fingers now your battlements annoy;<br> +Why is it that thy glories cease?<br> +O! Classic Greece. O! Classic Greece!</p> + +<p>And thou, best city of olden time,<br> +O! we might weep for thee, once chosen clime.<br> +City, where Solomon his temple reared,<br> +City, where gold and silver stores appeared;<br> +City, where priest and prophet lowly knelt,<br> +City, where God in mortal flesh once dwelt.<br> +Titus, and Roman soldiers, laid thee low,<br> +The music in thy streets has ceased to flow;<br> +Yet wilt thou not return in joy once more,<br> +And Lebanon give up her cedar store?<br> +And vines and olives smile as now they smile,<br> +Yet not upon the ruin of a holy pile;<br> +Wilt thou Destruction's flood not stem?<br> +Jerusalem! Jerusalem!</p> + +<p>Cities and men, and nations, have gone by,<br> +Like leaves upon an Autumn's dreary sky;<br> +Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud,<br> +Like drops upon the summer's passing cloud;<br> +Like flowers of a wilderness,<br> +Vanished into forgetfulness.</p> + + + + +<h2>Out of His Time.</h2> + + + +<p>One evening a short time since, our attention was attracted by the +prolonged ringing of a bell. The given number of strokes had sounded, yet +ring, ring, ring. Was it an alarm of fire? No other bell signalled an +answer. Was it some danger to our city? No crowds were gathering. At +length we questioned a passer by, and received for answer, "It is +ringing because an Apprentice is out of his time." "Out of his time!" +We knew nothing of the boy, neither his name or home, but the waves of +air told us something concerning him. We knew he had overcome +difficulties, often had he been disheartened and dismayed, often had he +heard the mocking laugh or coarse jest of his companions, at his +imperfect workmanship, often heard the angry words over goods or tools +spoiled through his ignorance or carelessness. He had risen on dark +mornings when his neighbors, lads his own age, were snugly sleeping; he +had toiled on glorious summer days when his indolent companions were +resting under green trees, or plunging into the cool waters; he had done +the rough work because he was "the boy." Yes, but there is another side +to the picture. With courage renewed, with eyes and fingers becoming more +and more accustomed to the handicrafts of his trade, every month has found +him progressing, till to-night, as the still ringing bell tells us, he has +overcome. His companions gather around him with boisterous mirth, and the +"older hands" feel a certain pride in him, as wringing his hand they know +he ranks among themselves, the means of an honest living at his disposal, +one of God's great army of working men. A few hours passed and another +bell resounded upon our ears. We listened, for that bell had a sad and +solemn sound. Ah, another "Apprentice was out of his time." We knew +something of how he had fought, not with rough iron, but with "the waves +of this troublesome world." We knew how in every day life he strove to do +his duty to his Lord and Master. Dismayed, how often? Discouraged, how +frequently bearing the taunt, the sneer? But he too had overcome. His +companions gather around him, but all mirth is hushed, tears fill their +eyes, and choking words are whispered as they file round the casket, and +look upon the calm dead face, that no more on earth will meet them with +its wonted smile, and the pale hands that have done all their rough +earthwork. His welcome we did not hear. Ah, it is well that the sound of +harps and the silvery peals from the chiming bells of the city of God +reach us not, or perchance we should "stand all the day idle." For are we +not all entered Apprentices in this strange world of ours? Are we not all +"serving our time?" How are we learning our trades? Are we likely to prove +"workmen that need not be ashamed," or are we through fear or negligence +hiding in the earth our Lord's money? Our indentures bear the blood-red +seals of Calvary, our Covenant is "ordered in all things and sure." The +time of our serving here is unknown to us, of the hour of our release +knoweth no man. There have been some who "being made perfect in a short +time, fullfilled for a long time." We have a long line of witnesses gone +on before, but all drawing their life and courage from that Wonderful Man, +the Redeemer of the world, the Carpenter of Galilee. He whose mysterious +indentures were cancelled in the noon-day of His life. He who could stand +among His sorrowing companions and say, "Father, I have finished the work +which Thou gavest me to do." Oh, my fellow apprentices, how often are we +tempted to leave <i>our</i> work unfinished. Do we not thus sometimes +think, "I can never learn my trade for heaven here." We see one wasting +his Master's goods, we see the tables of the money-changers in the temple +of God, we hear our fellows arraigning the Master before their petty +tribunals, we grow faint and weary, we have foes within and without. Doubt +says, "The Master is feasting royally and forgets his poor apprentices." +Courage, courage, my brothers, we are treading the path the saints have +trod. This is but a state of preparation. We know not what work for the +King we may have to do by-and-by; over how many cities of whose locality +we at present know nothing. He may give us authority to which of the +countless worlds in our Father's universe we may be sent on the King's +message of love, to what spirits in prison we, in our spiritual life, may +go to preach of mercy. If here permitted to be the servants of Christ, and +through His merits attaining to that better country, may we not +reasonably infer that we shall aid Him more and more, till the mediatorial +work is ended. Let these thoughts encourage us amidst the cold and heat, +the scorn and shame. Let us see to it that we <i>do</i> work the works of +our Master. Let us often turn our eyes to those two grand rules of our +workshop, "Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you," our golden +rule framed in the royal crimson of the King's authority; and that other +silver lettered motto, framed in the clear, true blue of heaven, "Pure +religion and undefiled before God and the Father, is to visit the widow +and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from +the world." Let us imitate that brother workman of whom Whittier says:</p> + +<p> "He gave up his life to others,<br> + Himself to his brothers lending; <br> + He saw the Lord in His suffering brothers,<br> + And not in the clouds descending."</p> + +<p>Soon, soon we shall be out of our time; but here the figure ends. The +earthly apprentice, freed from his articles of apprenticeship, may serve +any master, the heavenly apprentice asks but <i>one</i>. Oh, Jesus, +Master, Thou Saviour of our race, have mercy upon us, grant us so to +serve Thee in time, that our earthly labours ended, we may hear Thee say, +"Well done good and faithful servant," while the pure and beautiful +angels shall rehearse to each other, "Rejoice, another apprentice is out +of his time."</p> + + + + +<h2>Two Altars.</h2> + +<blockquote>"And Cain talked with Abel, his brother."</blockquote> + + + +<p>The sun was rising on earth, sin-tainted, yet beautiful,<br> +Delicate gold-colored cloudlets in all their primeval beauty,<br> +Ushered the bright orb of day to his task well appointed,<br> +Like a bevy of beautifal girls in the court of their monarch,<br> +Or a regiment of soldiers all bright in new rose-colored armour.<br> +Two altars arose between earth and the cloud-speckled firmament;<br> +Cain walked in a stern and defiant advance to his altar,<br> +A recklessness flashed from his eyes, and passions unconquered,<br> +As he scornfully looked on the kneeling, worshipping Abel,<br> +Ay scornfully thus he addressed his young innocent brother:</p> + +<p>"Look at my sacrifice, Abel, these glistening dew-colored roses,<br> +Those delicate lillies and mosses, these graceful arbutulas;<br> +Look at the golden brown tints of these fruits in their lusciousness; '<br> +Look at the bright varied hues of these green leaves, closely encircling<br> +These rich scarlet blossoms, like yonder clouds, glorious and wonderful;<br> +Nothing on earth or in heaven could make fairer oblation.<br> +Abel, what have you carved on your altar, in that wild devotion<br> +By which you in vain seek to soften the anger of heaven?<br> +A circle, to show that your God is all near, is filling<br> +The seen and unseen with His incomprehensible presence.</p> + +<p>Well, so let it be, then; I'll not contradict the illusion.<br> +One thing appears certain, that we have offended our Maker,<br> +Who visits unjustly on us the mistakes of our parents,<br> +As if we ever reached out our hands for fruit once forbidden.<br> +Shall we never be free from the thorns and the thistles upspringing?<br> +Why do you still try to follow the steps and voice of your Maker?<br> +And why still persist in slaying the white lambs of your meadows?<br> +Take of my beautiful flowers and despise all blood shedding."</p> + +<p>"My brother," spoke Abel, "I love the dear innocent flowers.<br> +Are they not all, nearly all that is left us of Eden's fair glory,<br> +All but the singing of birds, the winds and the waters, wild music,<br> +All but the whispers of love and blessings of heart-broken parents;<br> +But you heard, my brother, as well as myself the commandment,<br> +Not to offer to heaven what <i>we</i> choose, but what God declareth<br> +Will shadow our Faith and sweet Hope in the promised atonement;<br> +And that terrible sin, those spots in our souls, my dear brother,<br> +Can never be cleansed by the lives of the beautiful flowers,<br> +Only by His, shadowed forth in the death of an innocent victim."</p> + +<p>Then angrily answered Cain back to his young brother's pleading,<br> +"Abel, I have no patience with such mock humiliations,<br> +I have no need of a Saviour, I have no need of blood-shedding<br> +To wash out the stain of my own or my father's transgression.<br> +I for myself can make perfect and full restitution;<br> +Look at the smoke of your altar curling upward so clearly,<br> +Making white cloudlets on high in the blue of the firmament,<br> +While mine sweeps the ground that is cursed like the trail of the serpent:<br> +Why comes down the Maker of this blighted universe, asking<br> +Why art thou wroth, and why is thy countenance fallen?"</p> + +<p>Stand I not here in the image of God, who created us?<br> +Have I not courage, and freedom, and strength above my inferiors?<br> +Did not our father give name to beast, bird, insect and reptile?<br> +Shall his children crouch down and kneel like the creature that crawleth?<br> +I will not obey this commandment, but I'll wreath up my altar<br> +With offerings of earth, with gold of the orange, and red of the roses,<br> +I'll not stain my hands with the blood of an innocent creature."<br> +So Cain turned away from his wondering brother; perhaps then little dreaming<br> +That on the next morrow he would become earth's first murderer;<br> +And, scorning the death of a lamb, take the life of a brother.</p> + + + + +<h2>The Doom of Cain.</h2> + +<blockquote>The Lord Said, "What hast thou done?"</blockquote> + + + +<p> Oh, erring Cain,<br> +What hast thou done? Upon the blighted earth<br> +I hear a melancholy wail resounding;<br> +Among the blades of grass where flowers have birth<br> +I hear a new-born tone mournfully sounding.<br> + It is thy brother's blood<br> + Crying aloud to God<br> + In helpless pain.</p> + +<p> Unhappy Cain!<br> +Thou hast so loved to wreathe the clinging vine,<br> +And welcomed with pure joy the delicate fruit,<br> +Till thou hast felt a kindred feeling twine<br> +Around thy heart, grown with each fibrous root<br> + Of tree, or moss, or flower,<br> + Growing in field or bower,<br> + Or ripening grain.</p> + +<p> But henceforth, Cain,<br> +When the bright gleaming of the rosy morn<br> +Proclaims another glorious summer day,<br> +Thou may'st walk forth to greet the earth newborn,<br> +And pluck the blushing roses on thy way;<br> + They at thy touch shall blight,<br> + Stricken with some strange might,<br> + Some dire pain.</p> + +<p> In time to come,<br> +When thy fair child (for thou shalt have a son)<br> +Shall lay his little, soft, warm hands in thine,<br> +And say, "My father, growing neath the sun<br> +Are lovely flowers, trees and moss and vine;<br> + Here is rich soil and room<br> + For me; make bowers bloom<br> + Around our home."</p> + +<p> Thy heart will shrink,<br> +And thou wilt hear the voice the Lord has heard,<br> +The voice of brother's blood speaking from earth,<br> +And each pulse of thy sad soul will be stirred,<br> +As he to whom the girl thou love'st gave birth<br> + Brings back with fearful truth<br> + The playmate of thy youth<br> + From the grave's brink.</p> + +<p> For on no shore<br> +Shall fair earth yield unto thy stalwart arms;<br> +No, thou may'st dig, and prune, and plant in vain,<br> +And noxious worms and things of poisonous harms<br> +Shall not be banished at the will of Cane;<br> + Thou'lt set seed-bearing root,<br> + Thou'lt plant life-giving fruit<br> + No more, no more.</p> + +<p> Depart! Depart!<br> +Ah no, not greater than the soul can bear,<br> +Did'st thou not always find whatever grain<br> +Thou cast, the same grew upward full and fair,<br> +Thou <i>would'st not</i> look upon the pure lamb slain,<br> + To faith true sacrifice<br> + Thou would'st not turn thine eyes;<br> + Go, till thine heart.</p> + + + + +<h2>Our Poor Brethren.</h2> + +<blockquote>"Our poor and penniless brethren, dispersed over land and sea."--Masonic Sentiment</blockquote> + + + +<p>They met in the festive hall,<br> + Lamps in their brightness shone,<br> +And merry music and mirth,<br> + Aided the feast of St. John.<br> +Men pledged the health of their Queen<br> + And of all the Royal band,<br> +The flags of a thousand years,<br> + The swords of their motherland.</p> + +<p>Then mid the revelry came<br> + The sound of a mournful strain,<br> +Like a minor chord in music,<br> + A sweet but sad refrain;<br> +It rose on the heated air,<br> + Like a mourner's earnest plea,<br> +"Our poor and penniless brethren<br> + Dispersed over land and sea."</p> + +<p>Poor and penniless brethren<br> + Scattered over the world,<br> +Want and misfortune and woe<br> + Round them fierce darts have hurled;<br> +Wandering alone upon mountains,<br> + Sick and fainting and cold,<br> +Lying heart-broken in prisons,<br> + Chained in an enemy's hold.</p> + +<p>Dying in fields of combat,<br> + With none to answer back<br> +The masonic sign of distress,<br> + Left on the battle's track.<br> +Shipwrecked in foaming waters,<br> + Clinging to broken spars,<br> +Dying, this night of St. John,<br> + Mid the ocean and the stars.</p> + +<p>Others with hunger faint--we<br> + Taste these rich and varied meats--<br> +Oppression gives them no home<br> + But dark and desolate streets.<br> +Oh, God of mercy, hear us,<br> + As we ask a boon for Thee,<br> +For poor and penniless brethren<br> + Dispersed over land and sea.</p> + +<p>Poor and penniless brethren,<br> + Ah, in the Master's sight,<br> +We all lay claim to the title<br> + On this, our festival night.<br> +Lone pilgrims journeying on<br> + Towards light that points above,<br> +Treading the chequered earthworks<br> + Till we reach the land of love.</p> + +<p>Work up to the landmark, brothers,<br> + We shall not always stay,<br> +The falling shadows warn us<br> + To work in the light of day.<br> +How often our footsteps turn<br> + Where a brother's form is hid,<br> +Oft we cast evergreen sprigs<br> + On a brother's coffin lid.</p> + +<p>Thou, who dost give to each<br> + Some appointed post to hold,<br> +Teach us to cherish the weak,<br> + To give Thy silver and gold;<br> +To guard as a soldier guards<br> + Honor and Love's pure shrine,<br> +To give our lives for others,<br> + As Thou did'st for us give Thine.</p> + +<p>To Masons all over the world<br> + Give wisdom to work aright,<br> +That they may gather in peace<br> + Their working tools at night.<br> +May love's star glitter o'er each,<br> + Amid darkness, storm or mist,<br> +As on this night of St. John,<br> + Our Blest Evangelist. + + + + +<h2>Vain Dreams.</h2> + +<blockquote> --"Throughout the day, I walk,<br> +My path o'ershadowed by vain dreams of him."<br> + --Italian Girl's Hymn to the Virgin.</blockquote> + +<p>Mother, gazing on thy son,<br> +He, thy precious only one,<br> +Look into his azure eyes,<br> +Clearer than the summer skies.<br> +Mark his course; on scrolls of fame<br> +Read his proud ancestral name;<br> +Pause! a cloud that path will dim,<br> +Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.</p> + +<p>Young bride, for the altar crowned,<br> +Now thy lot with one is bound,<br> +Will <i>he</i> keep each solemn vow?<br> +Will <i>he</i> ever love as now?<br> +Ah! a dreamy shadow lies<br> +In the depths of those bright eyes;<br> +Time will this day's glory dim,<br> +Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.</p> + +<p>Sister, has thy brother gone,<br> +To the fields where fights are won;<br> +Oh! it was an hour of pride<br> +When he was last by thy side;<br> +Thou dost see him coming back<br> +In the conqueror's proud track;<br> +Hush! the bayonets earthward turn,<br> +Dream vain dreams, he'll not return.</p> + +<p>Woman, on the cottage green,<br> +Gazing at the sunset scene,<br> +Now the vintage toil is o'er,<br> +But the gleaner comes no more<br> +Through the fields of burnished corn;<br> +Lo! a peasant's bier is borne<br> +By the sparkling river's brim,<br> +Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.</p> + +<p>Maiden, who in every prayer<br> +Breath'st a name thou dost not bear,<br> +Sing again thy lover's song;<br> +Yes, he will be back ere long,<br> +Back in all his manhood's pride,<br> +Back, but with another bride;<br> +Cease those bridal robes to trim,<br> +Thou hast dreamt vain dreams of him.</p> + +<p>Earthly idols! how we mould<br> +Sand with fruit and clay with gold!<br> +How we cherish crumbling dust,<br> +Then lament our futile trust!<br> +Saviour, who on earth didst prove<br> +All the agony of love,<br> +Fit us for that brighter shore,<br> +Where they dream vain dreams no more.</p> + + + + +<h2>The Forest River.</h2> + + + +<p>Amid the forest verdant shade,<br> + A peaceful river flowed:<br> +Wild flowers their home on its banks had made,<br> +The sunbeam's rays on its breast were laid,<br> + When the light of morning glowed.</p> + +<p>By its marge the wolf had found a lair,<br> + He roamed through each lonely spot;<br> +That deep designer, the beaver, there<br> +Built his palace; the shaggy bear<br> + In the tall tree had his cot.</p> + +<p>And voices sweet were heard on the bank<br> + Of the river's gentle flow;<br> +The whip-poor-will sang when the sun had sank,<br> +And the hum-drum bee to his home had shrank,<br> + When the wind of eve did blow.</p> + +<p>The tree-frog joined with his sonorous call,<br> + The grasshopper chirped along,<br> +The dormice came out of their underground hole,<br> +The squirrels peeped over their pine-tree wall,<br> + To list to the revel song.</p> + +<p>Nothing disturbed the murmur deep<br> + Of the river broad and fair;<br> +No one awoke it from peaceful sleep,<br> +Save when floating mice o'er its breast would creep,<br> + Or the rusty-coated bear.</p> + +<p>One morn the sound of an axe was heard<br> + In the forest, dark and lone;<br> +Then started with fear the beasts disturbed,<br> +Their reign was broke at the woodman's word,<br> + And they scowled with anger on.</p> + +<p>On the river's brink the emigrant's child<br> + Passed all his lonely hours,<br> +He laughed when he ruffled the bosom mild<br> +Of the flowing streamlet so bright and wild,<br> + As it bore his boon of flowers.</p> + +<p>Soon the throng of the forest heard the horn<br> + Of the boat, the commerce boat;<br> +Then they started up from the brake and thorn,<br> +And hastening away by the light of the morn,<br> + They fled from cavern and moat.</p> + +<p>And the bird peeped out of a pine tree tower,<br> + And shrank away at the sight,<br> +The humming-bird fled to his rose-hung bower,<br> +The bright bee curled himself snug in a flower,<br> + O'ertaken by fear and fright.</p> + +<p>And the river which rolled for ages, still<br> + In a gentle flow unriven,<br> +Now bears on its bosom by man's proud will,<br> +By the arts of industry and skill,<br> + The blessings to mortals given.</p> + +<p>Over its billows the steamboats tread,<br> + With their waters rushing high,<br> +Or the snowy sail to the wind is spread,<br> +As the noble bark on her way is sped<br> + To the crowded city nigh.</p> + +<p>Oh river bright, we sail over thy breast,<br> + Once bearing wood runners wild;<br> +But the birds who built on the bank their nest,<br> +Have fled long ago to the boundless west,<br> + From thee and from man exiled.</p> + + + + +<h2>Last Words of Sir Henry Lawrence.</h2> + +<blockquote>"Let there be no fuss about me, bury me with my men."</blockquote> + + + +<p>The shades of death were gathering thick around a soldier's head,<br> +A war stained, dust strewn band of men gathered around his bed.<br> +"Comrade, good-bye; thank God your voice may cheer the dauntless brave<br> +When I, your friend and countryman, am resting in the grave.<br> +Hush, soldiers, hush, no word of thanks, it is little I have done<br> +For the glory of the land we love, toward the setting sun.<br> +I have but one request to make: When all is over, then<br> +Let there be no fuss about me, bury me with my men.</p> + +<p>Heap up no splendid monument in memory of my clay,<br> +No tributary words to tell of one who's far away;<br> +It matters not to passers by where lies my crumbling dust,<br> +The cherubim and seraphim may have it in their trust;<br> +And bones of better men than I have bleached all cold and white<br> +Where scorching sunbeam goes by day and the prowling beast by night.<br> +Give me a few spare feet of earth away down in the glen,<br> +Breathing the words of faith and hope, bury me with the men.</p> + +<p>Bury me with the men; when the fearful seige was gained,<br> +With British blood and British dead the Indian soil was stained.<br> +Poor Dugald lay that fearful night and never asked for aid,<br> +And Fraser, wounded, cheered us on, and Allan, dying, prayed,<br> +And brave Macdonald cheered the flag with his expiring breath.<br> +These are the men who jeopardised their lives unto the death,<br> +They drove the murderous Sepoys back, the wild wolf to his den;<br> +All honor to their noble hearts; bury me with my men.</p> + +<p>Is it death that's coming nearer? how clammy grows my brow;<br> +Yes, I'm going home for promotion, the battle's over now.<br> +Comrades, I often fancy, how upon yon blessed shore,<br> +In that land of recognition, we may yet all meet once more.<br> +Colonel, we'll gather round you then, as in the days of old;<br> +Why do whisper, comrades, are my fingers growing cold?<br> +Oh, tell my brother-officers that I thought about them when<br> +I was going across the river; bury me with my men.</p> + +<p>How very dark it's growing, I suppose it's nearly night;<br> +Well, I think we shall see England in the morning's ruddy light.<br> +And my mother and my sister surely I see them stand<br> +Upon the beach, and summer flowers waving in each hand;<br> +And sounds of joy and victory comes on the evening air.<br> +Colonel, if I go down home first, you'll come and see us there?<br> +Do I hear my comrades sighing? Where am I? ah, amen.<br> +Let there be no fuss about me, bury me with my men.</p> + + + + +<h2>To the Birds.</h2> + + + +<p>Onward, sail on in your boundless flight,<br> +Neath shadowing skies and moonbeams bright,<br> +Kissing the clouds as it drops the rain,<br> +Touching the wall of the rainbow's fane;<br> +With your wings unfurled, your lyres strung,<br> +You sail where stars in their orbs are hung,<br> +Or for stranger lands where bright flow'rs spring,<br> +Ye have plumed the down and spread the wing.</p> + +<p>We lay the strength of the forest down,<br> +We wear the robe and the shining crown,<br> +We tread down kings in our battle path,<br> +And voices fail at our gathered wrath;<br> +We touch; the numbers forget to pour,<br> +From the serpent's hiss to the lion's roar;<br> +But we may not tread the paths ye've trod,<br> +Though children of men and sons of God.</p> + +<p>Ye haste, ye haste, but ye bring not back<br> +To waiting spirits the news we lack,<br> +Ye do not tell what it is to see<br> +The snow capped home of the thunder free,<br> +Ye do not speak of the worlds above,<br> +Ye tell no tales of the things we love,<br> +No height or breadth of the sunbeam's roof,<br> +You touch in your travels--terror proof.</p> + +<p>You're strange in bright radience, wonderful;<br> +You're soft in your plumage, beautiful.<br> +Bold to bask in the clouds of even,<br> +Free in your flight to floors of heaven.<br> +Like dews that over the flowers spring,<br> +Like billows rolled over Egypt's king,<br> +You leave no track in the misty air,<br> +Or records of wonders that meet you there.</p> + + + + +<h2>Initiation Ode.</h2> + +<p align="center"><i>Air--Belmont.</i></p> + + + +<p>Hark! unto thee a voice doth speak,<br> + A voice of heavenly breath,<br> +And this, the solemn charge it gives,<br> + Be faithful unto death.</p> + +<p>Faithful as stars in heaven's blue skies,<br> + Though dark clouds roll between,<br> +Or rocks that show their signal lights<br> + In tempest's wildest scene.</p> + +<p>Faithful 'till death, which finally<br> + Shall close thy mortal strife,<br> +When thy reward shall surely be<br> + The crown of endless life.</p> + + + + +<h2>Installation Ode.</h2> + + + +<p>Blest Ruler, at whose word<br> +The universe was stirred,<br> + And there was light;<br> +Look now with gracious love<br> +From Thy bright home above,<br> +Direct in every move,<br> + Each proved, Sir Knight.</p> + +<p>In mysteries well skilled,<br> +Their hearts with courage filled,<br> + Behold they stand;<br> +Strengthen their faith in thee,<br> +Let hope their anchor be,<br> +And heaven-born charity<br> + Mark their command.</p> + +<p>Endure with holy light<br> +Each suppliant, Sir Knight;<br> + May each one prove<br> +Faithful in watch and word;<br> +Strong the oppressed, to guard<br> +And win the just reward<br> + Of Faith and Love.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Victor Roy, A Masonic Poem, by +Harriet Annie Wilkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR ROY, A MASONIC POEM *** + +***** This file should be named 8146-h.htm or 8146-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/4/8146/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Curtis Weyant, Dave Maddock, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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