Chapter I: Would Not Live Alway

I looked upon the fair young flowers
That in our gardens bloom,
Gazed on their winning loveliness,
And then upon the tomb;
I looked upon the smiling earth,
The blue and cloudless sky,
And murmured in my spirit's depths,
"O I can never die!"

I heard my sister's joyous laugh,
As she danced lightly by,
Her heart was glad with love and hope,
Its pulse with youth beat high;
I sought my mother's quiet smile,
She fondly drew me nigh,
And still I said within my heart,
"O I can never die!"

Stern winter came,--the fairy flowers
Were swept by storms away,
And swiftly passed the verdant bloom
Of summer's lovely day;
My mother's smile grew more serene,
And brighter was her eye,
And now I know her only as
An angel in the sky.

And sorrow's wing had cast a shade
Upon my sister's smile,
Had checked the voice of gladsome mirth,
And bounding step the while;
And when the bright spring came again,
And clouds forsook the sky,
Then I knelt down and thanked my God
There was a time to die.

THE FALL OF JERUSALEM.

The sunset on Judah's high places grew pale,
And purple tints shadowed the gorge and the vale,
While Venus in beauty, with dilating eye,
Out-riding the star-host, looked down from the sky
On the city that struggled with foemen below,--
Jerusalem, peerless in grandeur and woe!
O'er the fast crumbling walls thronged the cohorts of Rome,
Their batteries thundered on palace and dome,
And the children of Israel in voiceless despair
At the foot of the Temple had breathed a last prayer;
For their armies were spent in the unequal strife,
And Famine was maddening the pulses of life,
The pestilence lurked in the zephyr's soft breath,
And the gall-drops were poured from the drawn sword of Death.

The Night with starred garments moved noiseless on high,
When they felt a hot blast on the cool air draw nigh;--
Did pinions infernal rejoicing sweep by?
They beheld a wild flash o'er the firmament shine;--
Came there aid from above,--a legation divine?
There is fire on the mount, there is smoke in the air;
The red flames shoot upward with bright, spectral glare;
Men of Jacob, draw nigh, but like Moses unshod,
'T is the shrine of Jehovah, the temple of God.
The cherubim drooped and the pomegranates lay
In the dust with the lamps that had glimmered all day;
The censers and altar the ashes must claim,
Though their unalloyed gold be the gold of Parvaim.

Fierce raged the consumer insatiate and strong,
And cursed was its light by that soul-stricken throng,
Who beheld their destruction and anguish and shame,
Engraved by the lurid and forked tongues of flame,
On pillar and pommel and chapiter high,
Distinct as the law they had dared to defy,
Was traced through the cloud where the Deity shone
By the finger of God on the tablets of stone;
They beheld e'en the Holy of Holies consume;
Then with frenzied bemoaning lamented their doom.

The cedars of Lebanon thrilled with the wail
That swept like a torrent Jehoshaphat's vale;
Mount Tabor and Zion re-echoed afar
The voice of lamenting for Judah's lost star;
The Kedron replied from its sanctified glade;
The olive-leaves shook in Gethsemane's shade;
And a strange world came forth from the regions of space
And hung like a sword o'er the grave of that race;
While the watchman, who terror-struck gazed on the sight,
Not a signal gave forth from his fire-girded height,
But breathlessly muttered, with cold lips and pale,
"'T is the tenth day of Lous,--Jerusalem, wail!"

Day dawned o'er Judea, but never again
Might the sunbeam in splendor flash back from her fane.
No prophet stood forth, and, with prescience sublime,
Told of light in the Future unkindled by Time:
No poet-king sounded his lyre o'er her tomb;
No ruler went up 'mid the cloud's awful gloom
And fervently plead with Jehovah's fierce ire;
No God on Mount Sinai descended in fire;
The eyes of the daughters of Rachel were dim;
The priesthood were anguished by visions of HIM
Who, patient and God-like, climbed Calvary's side;
The ancient men sorrowed by Siloah's tide,
And Israel to shame and oppression were sold,
To bondage and exile for ages untold;
And the hearts of the captives grew hollow and dry
As the fruit that o'er Sodom hangs fair to the eye.

THE FIRST LOOK.

I heard the strokes of the midnight bell
As they thrilled the quiet air,
And saw the soft, white curtains wave
In the lamp's uncertain glare;
And felt the breath of the July night,
Laden with fragrance and warmth and blight.

I knew that scarcely an hour before,
With plaintive and feeble wail,
A spirit had entered the gates of time,
A being helpless and frail;
That cradled beside me the stranger lay,
Though I had not dared o'er her face to pray.

But roused by the voice of the midnight chime,
O'er the little one I bent,
And soft, sweet eyes were upraised to mine,
As blue as the firmament,--
Eyes that had never beheld the day,
Or the chastened light of the moonbeam's ray.

O wonderful meeting, on the verge
Of Life and the dark BEYOND!
O wonderful glance from soul to soul
United by tenderest bond!
The one corroded with earth and care,
The other as falling snow-flakes fair;--

The one oppressed with contrition's tear,
Familiar with grief and sin,
The other with naught but the angel's face
Who ushered the human in;
The one a wrestler with Fate's decrees,
The other environed with saintly ease;--

The one acquainted with Death and change,
And with anguish faint and pale,
The other as fresh as the earliest rose
That opened in Eden's vale.
Dear Lord! that ever the blight should fall,
That sin should sully and Death appall!

THE DAUGHTER OF JEPHTHAH AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

Night bent o'er the mountains
With aspect serene;
The deep waters slept
'Neath the moon's pallid sheen,
And the stars in their courses
Moved noiseless on high,
As a soul, when it cleaveth
In thought the blue sky.

The low winds were spent
With the fever of day,
And stirred scarce a leaf
Of the green wood's array;
And the white, fleecy clouds
Hovered light on the air,
Like an angel's wing, bent
For a penitent prayer.

Sleep hushed in the city
The tumult and strife,
And calmed in the spirit
The unrest of life:
But one, where Mount Lebanon
Lifted its snow,
Slumbered not till the morn
Wakened earth with its glow.

Beneath the dark cedars,
Majestic, sublime,
That for ages had mocked
Both at tempest and Time,
In whose tops the wild eagle
His eyrie had made,
She knelt with pale cheek
In the damp, mossy glade.

The small hands were folded
In worship divine,
And the silent leaves thrilled.
In that lone forest shrine,
With the voice of the pleader,
That, earnest and low,
Was sad as the sea-shell's
And plaintive with woe.

She prayed not for life,
Though Youth's early bloom
Glowed on her fair cheek,
And recoiled from the tomb;
But a heart pure and strong,
Sublimed by its pain,--
A spirit attuned
To the seraph's bright strain.

She saw not the dark boughs
That, spectral and hoar,
With lattice-work rude
Arched her wide temple o'er;
She marked not their shadows
Gigantic and dim;
Her soul was communing
In triumph with Him;--

With the Ancient of Days,
Who from mercy-seat high
Beheld the pale pleader
With vigilant eye;
And Peace with white pinion
Came down from His throne,
And the gleam of her wing
On that fair forehead shone.

O Thou that upholdest
The feeble and frail,
And leadest the pilgrim
Through Life's narrow vale!
When the days that are measured
My spirit below
Shall have ceased to the past
From the future to flow,--

May the Summoner find me
As placid and strong,
As meet for endurance
Of agony long,
With a faith as divine
And vision as clear,
As the watchers who wept
On the hills of Judæa!

MONA LISA.

Leonardo da Vinci is said to have been four years employed upon the
portrait of Mona Lisa, a fair Florentine, without being able to
come up to the idea of her beauty.

Artist! lay the brush aside;
Twilight gathers chill and gray;
Turn the picture to the wall,--
Thou hast wrought in vain to-day.

Thrice twelve months have hastened by
Since thy canvas first grew bright
With that brow's bewitching beauty,
And that dark eye's melting light.

But the early morning shineth
On thy tireless labors yet,
And the portrait stands before thee
Till the evening sun has set.

Faultless is the robe that falleth
Round that form of matchless grace;
Faultless is the softened outline
Of the fair and oval face.

Thou hast caught the wondrous beauty
Of the round cheek's roseate hue,
And the full, red lips are smiling
As this morn they smiled on you.

To that Lady thou hast given
Immortality below;
Wherefore then, with moody glances,
Dost thou from thy labor go?

From the living face of beauty
Beams the soul's expressive ray,
And with all thy god-like genius
This thou never canst portray.

Of the countless throng around me
Each hath labors like to thine,
Each, methinks, some Mona Lisa
In his spirit's inmost shrine.

Visions haunt us from our childhood
Of a love so pure, so true,
Time and tears, and care and anguish,
Leave it steadfast, fair and new;--

Visions that elude for ever,
As the silent years depart,
Some unhappy ones and weary,--
Mona Lisas of the heart.

Gleams of that divine completeness
God's angelic ones attain,
Pass amid our toils before us,
And we emulate in vain.

Poet fancies crowd the spirit,
We would print upon the scroll--
But that perfect utterance faileth--
Mona Lisas of the soul.

SPRING LILIES.

'Neath their green and cool cathedrals,
In the garden lilies bloom,
Casting to the fresh Spring Zephyrs
Peal on peal of sweet perfume.
Often have I, pausing near them
When the sunset flushed the sky,
Seen the coral bells vibrating
With their fragrant harmony.

And, within my quiet dwelling,
I have now a Lily fair,
Whose young spirit's sweet Spring budding
Watch I with unfailing care:
God, in placing her beside me,
Made my being most complete,
And my heart keeps time for ever
With the music of her feet.

I remember not, while gazing
In her earnest eyes of blue,
That the earth has aught of sorrow
Aught less innocent and true;
And the restlessness and longing
Wakened by the cares of day,
With the burden and the tumult,
In her presence fall away.

Shield my Lily, Holy Father!
Shield her from the whirlwind's might,
But protracted sunshine temper
With a soft and starry night;
'Neath the burning suns of Summer,
Withered, scorched, the spring-flower lies,
Human hearts contract, when strangers
Long to clouds and tearful eyes.

Give her purpose strong and holy,
Faith and self-devotion high;
These Life's common by-ways brighten
Every hope intensify.
Teach her all the brave endurance
That the sons of earth require;
May she, with a patient labor,
To the great and good aspire.

Should some mighty grief oppress her,
Heavier than she can bear,
Oh! sustain her by Thy presence,
Hear and answer Thou her prayer:
And whene'er the storms of winter
Round my precious Lily reign,
To a fairer clime transplant her,
There to live and bloom again.

LINES TO D. G. T., OF SHERWOOD.

Blessings on thee, noble boy!
With thy sunny eyes of blue,
Speaking in their cloudless depths
Of a spirit pure and true.

In thy thoughtful look and calm,
In thy forehead broad and high,
We have seemed to meet again
One whose home is in the sky.

Thou to Earth art still a stranger,
To Life's tumult and unrest;
Angel visitants alone
Stir the fountains in thy breast.

Thou hast yet no Past to shadow
With a fear the Future's light,
And the Present spreads before thee
Boundless as the Infinite.

But each passing hour must waken
Energies that slumber now,
Manhood with its fire and action
Stamp that fair, unfurrowed brow.

Into Life's sublime arena,
Opening through the world's broad mart,
Bear thy Mother's gentle spirit,
And her kind and loving heart.

With exalted hope and purpose,
To the great and good aspire;
Downward, in unsullied glory,
Hand the honor of thy sire,--

With that love for Truth and Justice,
Future annals shall declare
Highest proof of moral greatness;--
Nobly live and bravely dare.

Cloudless pass thine infant days,
Childhood bring thee naught but joy,
Manhood, thought, and dignity;
Blessings on thee, noble boy!

LITTLE KATE.

Beside me, in the golden light
That slants upon the floor,
She twines the many-colored silks
Her dimpled fingers o'er;
Uplifting now and then her eye,
Or praise or blame in mine to spy.

For her sweet sake I've cast aside
The books I've loved so well,
And given up my being to
Affection's mighty spell;
Ambition's visions vanish all,
Before the music of her call.

The fancy of the past, that lent
To jewels bright and rare
Ascendency at every birth
In this our planet's air,
Hath to October's children given
The opal with its hues of Heaven.

The golden sunlight in the sky,
The red leaf on the plain;
Beneath the opal's changeful light
Hope and Misfortune reign;
And mid gay leaves of wondrous dyes,
My darling first unclosed her eyes.

I cannot in the future look
The augury to prove,
But earthly joys and earthly woes
Must human spirits move;
And she, like all, must strive with care,
Disasters meet, and suffering bear.

But I will teach her hopefully
To meet what Fate betides,
To live and labor earnestly,
In narrow path or wide;
And, with salt tears on paling cheek,
A benediction still to speak.

And if in some sweet inner sphere,
Some home of love apart,
An angel's duty she fulfil
With but a woman's heart,
Haply the red leaf, in its advent, may
Find Hope o'er sorrow dominant for aye.

A THOUGHT OF THE STARS.

I remember once, when a careless child,
I played on the mossy lea;
The stars looked forth in the shadowy west,
And I stole to my mother's knee,

With a handful of stemless violets, wet
With the drops of gathering dew,
And asked of the wonderful points of light
That shone in the distant blue.

She told me of numberless worlds, that rolled
Through the measureless depths above,
Created by infinite might and power,
Supported by infinite love.

She told of a faith that she called divine,
Of a fairer and happier home;
Of hope unsullied by grief or fear,
And a loftier life to come.

She told of seraphs, on wings of light,
That floated from star to star,
And were sometimes sent on a mission high
To a blighted orb afar.

And with childish sense, I forgot the worlds,
She had pointed out on high,
And deemed each wonderful beam of light
The glance of an angel's eye.

And when she knelt with her babes in prayer,--
I know each petition now,--
I saw the gleam of those wings of light
Lie beautiful on her brow.

Years passed, and in earliest youth I knelt
By my mother's dying bed;
The lips were mute that had spoken love,
And the eye's bright glance had fled.

And when I turned from that silent room
Where the latest word was spoken,
The shadow of death o'er my spirit lay,
And I thought that my heart was broken

I sought the hush of the midnight air,
And wept till the founts were dry;
The earth was clad in a wintry garb,
But the star host filled the sky.

And then I remembered the faith divine
And the loftier life to come,
And felt the shadow of Death depart
From my childhood's sacred home.

And often now when my heart is faint
With earth and its wearying care,
When my soul is sick with a feverish thirst
And burdened with contrite prayer,

I hasten forth to the starry gems,
That circle the brow of night,
And track with them the eloquent depths
Of the boundless Infinite.

They whisper low of a holier life
And a faith sublime and high;
And again I fancy each golden beam
The glance of a seraph's eye,

As in days of yore, when a careless child,
I stole to my mother's knee,
And asked of the wonderful points of light
That shone o'er the deep, blue sea.

A MOTHER'S PRAYER.

I knelt beside a little bed,
The curtains drew away,
And, 'mid the soft, white folds beheld,
Two rosy sleepers lay;
The one had seen three summers smile
And lisped her evening prayer;
The other,--only one year's shade
Was on her flaxen hair.

No sense of duties ill performed
Weighed on each heaving breast,
No weariness of work-day care
Disturbed their tranquil rest;
The stars to them as yet were in
The reach of baby hand,
Temptation, trial, grief, were words
They could not understand.

But in the coming years I saw
The turbulence of life
O'erwhelm this calm of innocence
With melancholy strife;
"From all the foes that lurk without,
From feebleness within,
What Sovereign guard from Heaven," I asked,
"Will strong beseeching win?"

Then to my soul a vision came,
Illuming, cheering all,
Of him who stood with shining front
On Dothan's ancient wall;
And, while his servant's heart grew faint
As he beheld with fear
The Syrian bands encompassing
The city far and near,

With lofty confidence to his
Sad questioning replied,
"Those armies are outnumbered far
By legions at our side:"
Then up from starry sphere to sphere,
Was borne the Prophet's prayer,
"Unfold to his blind sight, O God!
Thy glorious hosts and fair."

The servant's eyes bewildered gazed
On chariots of fire,
On seraphs clad in mails of light,
Resistless in their ire;
On ranks of angels marshalled close,
Where roving comets run,
On silver shields and rainbow wings,
Outspread before the sun.

I saw the Syrian hosts, at noon,
Led sightless through the land,
And longed to grasp the Prophet's robe
Within my feeble hand;
While my whole soul went out in deep
And passionate appeal,
That faith like his might set within
My babes' pure hearts its seal.

NOTES.

_Page_ 66.

'T is said the radiant stars of night,
When viewed through different air,
Appear not all in golden robes,
But various colors wear.

In Syria, where the atmosphere is less humid than ours, the whole heavens are said to sparkle at night, as with various-colored gems.

_Page_ 94.

MADELINE.--_A Legend of the Mohawk._--The events narrated in this poem occurred during the struggle of the American Colonies for Independence, immediately after the battle of Saratoga, in a small village on the banks of the Mohawk.

_Page_ 99.

By the ruthless Cow-boys slain.

"Cow-boys" was the term applied to the corps of freebooters attached to the British army.

_Page_ 127.

And the gall-drops were poured from the drawn-sword of Death.

According to a Rabbinical tradition, gall-drops fall from the suspended sword of the Angel of Death on the lips of the dying.

_Page_ 128.

The cherubim drooped and the pomegranates lay
In the dust with the lamps that had glimmered all day;
The censers, and altars, the ashes must claim,
Though their unalloyed gold be the gold of Parvaim.

2 Chronicles, 3:10: "And in the most holy house he made two Cherubims of image-work, and overlaid them with gold."

1 Kings, 7:20: "And the chapiters upon the two pillars had pomegranates also above: and the pomegranates were two hundred in rows round about upon the other chapiter."

2 Chronicles, 4:20: "Moreover the candlesticks with their lamps and the censers were of gold."

2 Chronicles, 3:6: "And he garnished the house with precious stones for beauty, and the gold was gold of Parvaim."

_Page_ 129.

On pillar, and pommel, and chapiter high.

2 Chronicles, 4:11,12: "And Hiram finished the work that he was to make for King Solomon for the house of God."

"To wit: the two pillars and the pommels, and the chapiters which were on the top of the two pillars."

_Page_ 129.

The Cedars of Lebanon thrilled with the wail,
That swept, like a torrent, Jehoshaphat's vale.

It is related by Josephus, that when the Jews perceived the conflagration of the Holy House, they broke out into such groans and outcries that all the mountains round about the city returned the echo.

_Page_ 130.

And a strange world came forth from the regions of space
And hung like a sword o'er the grave of that race.

According to Josephus "a star resembling a sword stood over the city."

_Page_ 130.

'T is the tenth day of Lous--Jerusalem wail!

The same month and day in which the Temple was burned by the Babylonians, and which, according to an oracle of the Jews, was to be a fatal one in their annals.

_Page_ 136.

"And the said unto her father, Let me alone two months, that I may go up and down upon the mountains."--_Judges_ 11:37.

_Page_ 163.

2 Kings 6:15, 19.