And the winter's cold set in,
Yet the recreant lover came not
To the child he taught to sin.
A mother's ever watchful eye
Discovered her daughter's shame,
Heard her story with breaking heart,
But uttered no word of blame.
She knew her daughter's downfall
Was the fruit of love beguiled,
But hated the heartless stranger
Who ruined her trusting child.
God alone can measure the pain
That child and mother felt,
As, locked in lingering embrace,
In agony they knelt
And poured in heaven's listening ear
Their heart-destroying grief;
And who so bold as to deny
That Heaven sent relief?
The father learned his daughter's sin
And drove her from his door.
"Go!" he said, "you guilty wretch,
You are my child no more."
Stung by these cruel, terrible words,
She fled in wild affright
In search of the heartless lover,
Her fearful wrongs to right.
She tracked the guilty miscreant down,
And he, to save his name,
Hid her till her child was born
In a house of doubtful fame.
The world looked on the helpless child
With cold, unpitying eye.
The villian bade his dupe go home,
"Repent of her sin and die."
She heard, and from her glittering eye
No tear of anguish sped--
With dagger drawn she reached his side,
And struck the villain _dead_!
With her babe she sought her father's door
And pled with a piteous cry
A shelter for her hapless babe
While the storm was raging high.
"Begone, you wretch!" the father cried,
"I curse the hour that gave
Birth to a wretch whose sin has laid
My wife within the grave."
"My mother dead! and I still live?
Ah! whither shall I fly?
O God! protect my hapless babe,
And suffer me to die."
The storm increased; she wandered on
Almost till break of day,
Till weary, wet and almost dead,
She knelt in the path to pray.
The sky was lit from end to end
By the lightning's awful glare,
And a falling tree pinned both to earth
As they knelt in the act of prayer!
They found them thus in the morning light,
And the father's grief was wild.
He tenderly looked on the touching scene
And at last forgave his child!
They buried Lenora and her nameless babe
Close beside her mother's clay,
And each one spake in kindly tones
Of the hapless ones that day.
The arm that sent the dagger home
Was nerved by a brain dethroned:
'Tis Lenora's was an awful deed,
But her terrible death atoned.
Aye, let us hope the much-wronged child
Has reached a home above
Where babes can live who have no name
And 'tis not sin to love.
_A PRISONER'S LAMENTATION._
A poor convict in his cell lay dying:
He thought of home and loved ones dear,
He asked his cell-mate, in a whisper,
"Do you think the end is drawing near?"
"If I should die before I see them
Tell them how I longed tonight
To have my mother's blessed care
To leave this world of sin and strife."
Oh! how he longed to see his mother
And the cottage on the hill--
"_God bless them all_," I heard him whisper,
As with tears his eyes did fill.
"Will they think of me--a prisoner--
I, who was once their pride and joy?
While I sleep in the churchyard yonder
Will they think of their wayward boy?
"I know I've caused them lots of trouble
In wild and reckless boyish day,
But I hope that God will now forgive me
When from this earth I'm called away.
"I know it broke my mother's heart
When she heard of me, her wayward son,
Who five long years did serve in prison
For a highway robbery he had done.
"Has Sister "Minn," whom I used to play with
In days of youth, forgotten me?
If she has, I vow I can not blame her,
For I've caused her pain and shame, not glee.
"There's but one wish I now shall mention--
That Mother's days may be days of joy,
And when she asks for me in prison
Speak mildly of her convict boy.
"Here, take this to my dear old mother!
I know 'tis but a lock of hair,
But it's all I've got to give her now--
I know she'll treasure it with care."
And when he handed me the keepsake
His spark of life had nearly fled.
He clenched my hand and uttered "_Mother_!"
And a poor convict there lay dead.
May all young men now take fair warning
From one who's had experience long:
Guard strong against temptation's dawning--
Cast off evil and do no wrong.
In your younger days _court_ good, _shun_ evil;
Be careful who you companions choose;
When you make life's start then do not cavil--
March manfully on to win, not lose.
[Illustration]
_OUR BOARD OF MANAGERS._
Long have we lived in misery and woe;
Long have we suffered from "kindness" cold as snow;
Long has pernicious influence been kept
Hovering 'round our misery, while in dungeons we have slept.
Long have we suffered from want of human care:
Long have we been bearded as the tiger in his lair:
Long have we went hungry for want of proper food,
And felt the sting of th' master's lash, as o'er our task we stood.
As the dark and gloomy cloud, that hovered o'er our past,
Has been wafted off by humane hands--'tis swept away at last.
We now emerge from darkness into a welcome light,
And live in brighter future hopes--a day made out of night.
We hail you, noble, honest men, whose hearts beat five as one,
Thus far in your prison work your duty you have done;
Eternal God will always right the brutal wrongs of man,
And therefore He did send you here to do the best you can.
A Cherrington, for the chairman, is a master stroke, you know.
And a Rose is always welcome, 'cause virtue he will sow;
A McConica, of democrat fame, is a power behind the throne,
While a Hoffman, sent from Cleveland, is a father to the home;
A Muscroft from old "Cincy" is a rattler for the place;
They all do join their hands and thoughts and duty bravely face,
While a McAdow records their acts with a gentlemanly grace.
They issue mandates right and left and order what is just;
They raise poor fallen, helpless man to a place of welcome trust;
They seek to lead him on the way to a nobler, better life,
And restore him to his children and his broken hearted wife.
Their Coffin always sits close by to lend a helping hand,
And faithfully their trust does keep--a leader of their band.
Well they know the awful fruitage of each harsh and brutal plan
Is to rouse the lurking tiger in the breast of erring man.
Now they rule, whose every impulse ripened by enlightened thought,
And it leads to many actions that with highest good is fraught.
And they use with great discretion measures that are just and kind,
Hoping to reform the erring through the agency of mind.
They have learned the useful lesson taught men from the power above,
That the greatest force in nature is the power of inspired love.
They have learned that rank dissension from all evil nature flows,
And they deem that man the greatest who can ease most mortal woes.
Let us ever sing enchanting of our now official corps
As they lift us from dark ruin as it has been heretofore.
See! the clouds so lately darkening o'er the prisoner's gloomy past,
Mercy's hand is fast dispelling--REASON _takes the reins at last_!
_A TRIBUTE TO ASSISTANT DEPUTY WARDEN L. H. WELLS_.
BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS.
Comrade, may the God of heaven ease the maddening pain
That has swept across your bosom since your son was slain;
Think not of him as a mortal mouldering into dust;--
God, too, loved him and, my comrade, He betrays no trust.
You shall see him when the morning breaks above the night of death,
And your parting, O, my comrade, will but seem a passing breath.
Well I know the awful pressure grief exerts upon the soul,
But I know it will but whiten what it can't control.
You have met on field of battle many a gallant foe,
And, with patriotism burning, gave them blow for blow,
You have fought till every rebel bent the suppliant knee,
And the land you loved and cherished once again was free.
You despise no gallant fellow who once wore the blue
When it cost both blood and treasure if a man was true.
You forgive the trivial errors of that noble band,
And you meet a loyal comrade with extended hand.
You have friends in every station where your worth is known;
You have showered acts of kindness that but few have known.
Since your advent in this prison you have daily won
Hearts that ever will remember _acts of kindness nobly done_.
Comrade, time is passing swiftly, and Jehovah his reveille
Soon will sound upon the hilltops of a vast eternity.
May we gather with our comrades on that ever beautiful shore
And, like conquering heroes, listen to Heaven's plaudits ever more.
_ONE AND A FEW._
BY 21069.
Of all the pet pleasures so pleasing to man
In his present degenerate state,
I doubt if there's any can make him so glad
As the one I'm about to relate.
While here he's confined he's troubled in mind
With his "fifteen" or "twenty" to do,
And he longs for the day when he boldly can say:
"I've only got one and a few."
Then keep a strong heart. With courage don't part,
But manfully fight your way through;
Be it "five" or it "ten" or twice that again,
'Twill come down to "one and a few."
How often at night when I sit in my cell,
After working quite hard all the day,
My memory goes back to the time that I fell,
For the "bit" which I now have to stay.
And sometimes, I own, while sitting alone
I feel sad and disconsolate, too;
But it makes me feel gay when I think I can say,
"I've only got one and a few."
Oh, many's a home that's cheerless tonight,
And many's the mother feels drear;
When she thinks of the one far away from her sight
It causes her many a tear.
Though others may cleave to her, you are the same;
Misfortune but makes her more true;
She may now be quite sad, but won't she feel glad
When you've only got "one and a few?"
Then, don't be discouraged. No matter how long
In this prison you may have to stay,
You know that to worry and fret is quite wrong,
Far better drive dull care away.
Old Time is the boy your "bit" to destroy
As he jogs along, contented and true;
And so, in the end, you'll find he's the friend
That brought you to "one and a few."
_MIDNIGHT MUSINGS._
'Tis midnight! The sentry's muffled tread
Is heard within these walls:
As silent as the living dead
He makes his regular calls.
I try to sleep, but all in vain;
I try to close--I weep,
I hear that muffled tread again--
The sentries on me peep.
I hear a voice so clear and plain--
It calls to me aloud--
It calls to me again, again;
That voice comes from a shroud.
Hist! Hist! vile heart, be still! No fear,
My angel sister's voice I hear!
It speaks to me in accents clear
And bids me shun a vile career.
She bids me meet her once again
And live in Heaven's fairest clime.
Nor shall her pleading be in vain--
_Resolved_, I'll do no crime.
Oh, could I feel her warm embrace
As when, in days of old,
I gazed into her angeled face--
It gave happiness untold.
Oh, let me live my boyhood days
As in the time gone by!
And let me consecrate her ways
When for this boy she'd cry.
But, hist! again the muffled tread
Comes gliding, silent as the dead,
Along the beat within these walls--
Hark! Hark! again dear sister calls.
_A QUERY._
BY MORSE.
When the long weary days are over
And the front gates open to you,
Are you again to be a wild rover?
What are you going to do?
Have you plans or dreams for the future?
Have the days any brightness for you?
Will you be a poor homeless creature?
What are you going to do?
Should your old-time friends forsake you--
Those who were strong and true--
And leave you helpless, homeless--
What are you going to do?
But you have one friend who is faithful,
Who is always kind and true.
Read His word and study His gospel--
He'll tell you what to do.
_STRAY THOUGHTS._
In the fathomless depths of the mighty deep
What wonders live, what mysteries sleep!
What mind can name the sightless things
That live in the ocean's hidden springs,
Where treasures heaped on treasures lie,
Forever secure from the human eye;
Where creatures sport, that God alone
Can know their joy or hear their moan?
Who knows but the bride of the Dublin Bay
May walk in the ocean's depths today,
Arm in arm with her own dear Roy
In the conscious flush of honeymoon joy?
Who knows but the hearts that sadly yearned
For the gallant ship that never returned,
Have met, in the ocean's unknown bed,
The loved, tho' lost, we all thought dead?
Science has proved the human frame
Is water and salt by another name!
Hydrography yet may teach mankind
The open door of heaven to find.
"Davie Jones' locker" may prove to be
Instinct with life, by death set free!
Knew we the tongue of the deep sea shell
What wondrous news its notes might tell!
The myriad stars in yonder skies
May be the beams of death-freed eyes
That watch us from an unknown shore,
Still faithful to the vows of yore!
The vaulted blue of heaven may be
The looking glass of the mighty sea,
Where deathless souls their vigils keep
O'er fast decaying world, asleep.
Atlantis, the fabled city of old,
Whose gates inspired poets behold,
May now be resting beneath the wave,
Triumphant o'er a watery grave!
Its pearly gates and glittering spires
Arouse the poet's mad desires.
He sees--and sings in tongue unknown--
The mysteries by the Muses shown.
Conducted by a sybil fair,
He penetrates each demon lair
And pictures hell, in golden speech,
Beyond imagination's reach.
To highest heaven his thought has flown
And measured and admired the throne;
Made angels bow beneath his rod
And dared to mould the mind of God!
Who knows but legends the Muses tell
Are truths encased in a mighty dream?
Who knows but the angels of earth and air
Are the beautiful nymphs beside each stream?
Each singing bird and nodding flower
May be imbued with potent power;
And stars an influence, too, may wield
And bless or curse our natal hour!
Who knows but what we call a brute
Is with immortal reason blest?
Who knows man is alone divine
And destined to immortal rest?
Theorize and reason as we may,
How little we can really know;
We only learn to live, then die,
And who may say to what we go?
_JUDGE NOT, LEST YE BE JUDGED._
BY SAM LAW.
Art thou so good, so free from sin
That thou should'st judge thy fellow men?
Look well to self before the stone,
Aimed at thy brother's faults, be thrown,
Behold in thee
A Pharisee.
If thou art not so low, perchance thou'rt only so from circumstance;
Perhaps, if tempted, thou would'st fall. Thy nature's sinful, after all.
Thou knowest not, most righteous scribe,
The struggles, trials, patience tried;
The battles fought, the vict'ries gained,
The bleeding heart, the soul tear-stained,
More human be,
Have charity.
[Illustration]
_THE CONVICT'S PRAYER._
BY 21269.
At midnight, in a prison cell,
On bended knee the convict fell,
And poured in heaven's listing ear
A prayer for those he held most dear.
Oh, God; defend my absent wife,
Whose breaking heart and blighted life
Spring not from conscious guilt within,
But from a reckless husband's sin.
Spare her, indulgent heaven, the blow,
That oft has laid an angel low;
Still may her ever angel face
Reflect the presence of Thy grace.
Be it well pleasing in Thy sight
That she may rear my babes aright,
And teach them, in the bloom of youth,
The laws of kindness and of truth.
Help me discharge, on every hand,
The duties right and law demand;
And may I live to dwell once more
Honored among the friends of yore.
[Illustration]
_WINE VS. WATER._
There stood two glasses, filled to the brim,
On a rich man's table, rim to rim,
One was ruddy and red as blood,
And one as clear as the crystal flood.
Said the glass of wine to the paler brother:
"Let us tell the tales of the past to each other.
I can tell of banquet, revel and mirth,
And the proudest and grandest souls on earth
Fell under my touch as though struck by blight,
Where I was a king, for I ruled in night.
From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
I have blasted many an honored name;
I have taken virtue and given shame.
I have tempted youth with a sip, a taste
That has made his future a barren waste.
Far greater than a king am I,
Or than any army beneath the sky.
I have made the arm of the driver fail,
And sent the train from the iron rail.
I have made good ships go down at sea,
And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me,
For they said, "Behold! how great you be!"
Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall,
For my might and power are over all.
Ho! ho! pale brother," laughed the wine,
"Can you boast of deeds so great as mine?"
The water said proudly, "I cannot boast
Of a king dethroned or a murdered host;
But I can tell of a heart once sad,
By my crystal drops made light and glad--
Of thirsts I've quenched, of brows I've laved;
Of hands I've cooled and souls I've saved;
I've leaped thro' the valley, dashed down the mountain,
Formed beautiful rivers and played in fountain,
Slept in the sunshine and dropped from the sky
And everywhere gladdened the landscape and eye.
I've eased the hot forehead of fever and pain,
I've made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain;
I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill
That ground out flower and turned at my will;
I can tell of manhood, debased by you.
That I lifted up and crowned anew.
I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid;
I gladden the heart of man and maid;
I set your close-chained captive free
And all are better for knowing me."
These are the tales they told each other--
The glass of wine and its paler brother--
As they sat together, filled to the brim.
On the rich man's table, rim to rim.
_THE FALL OF SODOM._
Thou sin-cursed city of the stricken plain,
Whose heinous lust all after time shall shame,
'Twas thine to rouse Jehovah's awful ire,
And test the strength of Heaven's revengeful fire.
Thy senseless lust and crime had spread
Till virtue, hope and shame had fled;
Degraded youth and tottering age
Could not appease thy senseless rage;
Thy leacherous sons, that roamed at night,
Were human only to the sight;
Their motto was hell's direst fruit:
"Debase the _man_, exhalt the _brute_!"
One man alone of all thy teeming millions sate,
And pondered on thy sin with deathless hate;
His righteous soul was vexed from day to day,
And strove in vain to turn you from your way.
_He_ dwelt among you as a child of God,
And in the path of honored wedlock trod.
_You_, dead to nature and to nature's voice,
Spurned woman and made man your choice!
And desecrated, with your impious lust,
The masterpiece God had formed from dust!
Till woman, shorn of all her natural power,
Was cast aside, like some discarded flower,
And stormed insulted heaven with hourly cry,
Till God beheld you with His searching eye,
And sent His angels in avenging haste
Your sin to punish and your land to waste.
The son of Horan met these at the gate,
And begged them at his frugal board to wait;
At first refused, they after turn aside,
And 'neath a righteous roof content abide.
They share his food and list with eager ear
As Lot recounts each nightly scene of fear;
When lust runs riot in the open streets,
And man with man in strange communion meets.
The men of Sodom learn, with kindling eye,
The stranger's presence, and in haste draw nigh.
Men, young and old, with equal ardor burn,
And, with unholy lust, towards these strangers yearn.
They call the patriarch with an angry shout,
And bid him bring the hallowed strangers out,
That they may satisfy their lawless lust
And trample decency in sinful dust.
He, taught from infancy in Mosaic Law,
Regarded heaven's High Ruler still with awe;
And shuddered with indignant fear
As these vile shouts assailed his ear.
He left his house and closed the door behind,
And to the rabble thus he eased his mind:
"Ye men of Sodom! _once_ in life do right,
Nor do this wickedness in heaven's sight!
Two virgin daughters 'neath my roof reside,
Till now a father's care and mother's pride;
Take them and do whatever you deem right,
But lay no impious hand upon my guests tonight.
The laws of hospitality, by Moses taught,
Harms not a stranger whom our roof has sought.
They know the law, who now reside within,
And with horror view your awful sin!"
"Ye men of Sodom! who this stranger gave
The right to judge us and our will to brave?
We kindly took a homeless wanderer in,
And dare he brand our greatest pleasure sin?
Shall empty words defy our proud behest,
Or useless offering prevent our guest?
Ten thousand 'No's' will pierce his dastard breast,
And treat him tenfold worse than all the rest!"
Thus spake their leader, and with angry roar
The o'er wrought friends assail the door;
Lot, backward hurled, could hardly stand,
Till snatched within by angel hand,
The maddened crowd no longer wait,
But headlong rush to meet their fate!
The ready angels rise, with godlike mind,
And strike the guilty wretches blind:
In vain they strive to reach and force the door,
Their useless orbs are blasted evermore!
"Go seek thy children, Lot, in eager haste,
And bid them not a precious moment waste.
God will destroy this sin-accursed place,
And wipe from earth its faintest trace!"
Lot, thus commanded, found each one that night,
And faithfully portrayed their awful plight;
But he, to them, seemed as a man that mocked,
And left them sorely grieved and doubly shocked.
The morn arose! The angels cautioned Lot
To wife and daughters take and tarry not;
And as they lingered took them by the hand
And led them from the endangered land.
"Flee to the mountains and no hind'rance brook,
Nor backward turn a long, admiring look.
The wretch who dares this mandate to defy
Shall, 'neath Jehovah's hand, in torture die!"
This stern command was heard by trembling Lot
With deep repugnance, for it pleased him not.
"Nay, nay, my lord; but if before thy face
Thy trembling servant dares to plead for grace,
Command me that I now may turn aside
And in your little city safe reside.
Thus may I keep my soul alive this day
Nor after fall to mountain beasts a prey."
The heavenly strangers, with an august nod,
Agree to lift from Zoar Jehovah's rod.
The rescued quartette Zoarward bend,
While hope and fear alternate tend.
With mien majestic, yes, with hasty tread,
Their trembling flight their aged father led.
Next came the virgins, able scarce to stand,
And followed by their mother, last of all the band.
She yet to Sodom and its idols clave,
And dared Jehovah's awful wrath to brave;
One look she sought, her weary journey to beguile,
And in a moment stood transfixed--_a Salty Pile_!
The more obedient trio onward fly,
Until the opening gates of Zoar greet the eye.
Now, with full hearts, they reach the calm retreat,
And cordial welcome from King Bela meet.
END OF FIRST CANTO.
_THE FALL OF SODOM--CANTO SECOND._