What is to be, but walking in the path
Appointed, thank our God who made it so;
And daily forward press our way in faith
Unquestioningly, knowing well that He,
Who chose that path, is wiser far than we.
XLVI.
Upon the waters now the sun has poured
His morning light; each little ripple gleams
In joy because the day has been restored,
And dances lightly in its welcome beams.
And gladly, brightly on the wavelets go,
And musically murmur as they flow.
XLVII.
And as they flow they breathe upon the air
An odour strengthening, which had not been
Except the sea waves shone and glittered there.
No unbrined waters roll these hills between,
For, by their constant forth and backward motion,
They tell their kinship to the mighty ocean.
Roll, roll, great Pacific, roll!
Ten thousands of years with their joys and their fears,
Thy billows cannot control.
Still roll, Pacific, roll!
Toss, toss, great Pacific, toss!
For the hunter of seal, whose woe is thy weal,
And whose gain is thine only loss.
Still toss, Pacific, toss!
Foam, foam, great Pacific, foam!
On thy rock-bound coast the wild Indians boast
Thy mountains, not thee, their home.
Still foam, Pacific, foam!
Surge, surge, great Pacific, surge!
Though the mariners hear, with prophetical fear,
In thy surging their deathly dirge.
Still, surge, Pacific, surge!
Roar, roar, great Pacific, roar!
For the gold-hunter's breast is in wilder unrest
Than the billows that lash thy shore.
Still roar, Pacific, roar!
Moan, moan, great Pacific, moan!
For the Inca of old, with his treasures untold,
From Peruvian shores is gone.
Still moan, Pacific, moan!
Wave, wave, mild Pacific, wave!
On the light, sandy bar of thine islands afar,
In banana-tree grove is the old tale of love
Still told by the dusky brave.
Wave gently, Pacific, wave!
XLVIII.
I know not what it was that bade me seek
A letter from my Love. She promised not
To write to me, nor did I ever speak
Of that sad sorrow which would be my lot
In wandering alone and friendless here,
And hearing nought from her so fondly dear.
XLIX.
But some small quiet voice, scarce listened to,
Enforced by its importunate command
This tardy recognition, sooner due;
And having sought a letter, now I stand
And hold in trembling hand the paper she
Has held, and written on so daintily.
L.
To read her words beneath the public eye
Were desecration. I must seek a spot
Where I alone can commune quietly
With her, and where the vulgar gaze is not.
Then let me seek the free and open air,
And read my loved one's words of greeting there.
LI.
What writes my Love? Ah Love! thou hast been ill.
Dread fever laid thee low when I had gone,
And I was not beside thee--by his will
Except for whom thou now had'st been my own.
And, though he be thy father, may my curse
Rest on him; and I would I could do worse.
LII.
He, for his selfish pride to cause thee pain;
He, for his littleness of mind to lay
Thee low in sickness; God grant he may gain
His due reward. And may the Lord repay
The haughty baronet, in full degree,
For all the wrong that he has rendered thee!
LIII.
But now thou art recovered, now thy heart
Alone is sick. Ah Love! thou mournest too,
No less than I, that we must live apart.
'Tis selfish, yet I thus would have thee do;
I would not have thee happy while away
From me, sweetheart, thy love would else decay.
LIV.
And did'st thou think thy father would relent
Because thine illness threatened thee? Ah! no,
His stubborn pride would still remain unbent
Though thou at Death's dark portal layedst low.
His pride is greater than his love for thee,
And greater even than his hate for me.
LV.
We may not be united, loved one--Nay,
What writest thou? Ah Love! Love! is it true?
It cannot be that thou art mine to-day,
And wast before, the while I never knew.
Oh God! my God hear Thou thy servant's cry,
And let his thankful praise ascend on high.
LVI.
Mine eyes are dim--Nay, tears? It cannot be;
I am a man, and am not wont to weep.
Yet beats my happy heart so joyfully
The quick revulsion causes me to steep
Mine eyes in tears. Though Grief could not compel
These tears to flow, Joy bade them, and they fell.
LVII.
Nay, cease to flow, ye tears, for I must read
Those words again so full of promised joy.
So quickly read I, and such little heed
I paid to little words which might alloy,
Perchance, the whole, that I must read anew,
Those words, and know my rendering is true.
LVIII.
"The latest book you wrote has pleaséd well
The populace, and men of high renown
Upon its certain power for good all dwell;
And this has been so pleasing to the Crown
That, recognizing your unquestioned right,
The Queen has now created you a knight.
LIX.
"This pleases me, my dearest one, but, oh!
What follows gives me higher pleasure far
I quick resolved to let my father know
That you were now a knight, and, in a prayer,
With tearful eyes, I begged him to allow
My loved one to return and claim me now.
LX.
"When first I spoke he heeded not, but soon
His face relaxed, and then, 'The boy has won,'
He said, 'a worthy name. Then take thy boon,
And tell him I will call him now my son.'
Then, kissing me, he raised me from my knee,
And, smiling, bade me write in haste to thee."
LXI.
And thou _art_ mine, my love--my very own!
And none can sever us. I seem not yet
To realize that all my pain is gone.
'Tis hard such heavy sorrow to forget.
Ah, Love! what now can give us grief or pain?
And who shall part us when we meet again?
LXII.
I do not love the title, and would choose
To bear it not; but this may never be.
The baronet would doubtless then refuse
To let his daughter be a wife to me,
And loud invectives on my head would pour.
He loves her, but he loves a title more.
LXIII.
But 'tis not mine to judge the baronet,
E'en though he shaded all my brighter life;
My duty bids me all the past forget,
For he has given me a loving wife.
So be it mine all passions to control,
And speed me home to greet my soul's twin-soul.
LXIV.
Then, farewell, Canada! If I have been
O'erladen with a heavy-burdened heart,
While all thy many beauties I have seen;
And if my sorrow should a vein impart
Of sadness to my thoughts, or bitterness,
Oh, think not this can make me love thee less.
LXV.
Farewell, great Canada! And oh! forgive
An exiled Englishman if he esteem
His native country highest, and would live
By choice in England. Do not let it seem
That on thy charms he sets but little store;
He loves thee well, but must love England more.
* * * * *
As boldly on high ye rise to the sky,
Great mountains, my message convey,
And tell to the Heaven the joy that is given
To me and to mine to-day.
Ye tall, waving trees, tell ye to the breeze,
And bid it to bear away
Afar on its wing, the words that I bring:
"My love is my own to-day."
And you, little bird, your voice must be heard;
Hum out to the flow'rs my lay.
As o'er them you hover, oh! say that I love her,
And say she is mine to-day.
And, oh! pretty flowers, put forth all your powers,
And tell to the bees that stray
Your blossoms among, the words of my song:
Oh! tell of my joy to-day.
And ye, busy bees, give heed to my pleas,
My loving request obey;
As ye fly to and fro, let your fellows all know
The joy that is mine to-day.
Let Nature all see my joy, and for me
Her many-tongued pow'rs array,
And bid them rejoice, and sing with one voice,
Because of my joy to-day.
THE END.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: The war of 1812-14.]
[Footnote B: The facts related in the following verses relative to the
siege of Quebec and the death of Wolfe have been taken from Dr.
Withrow's "History of Canada," and I take this opportunity of
acknowledging my indebtedness to the author. The history has been
invaluable to me in the composition of this poem. Without its help the
"Song" would have been far more incomplete than it now is.--_W. S. S._]
[Footnote C: "Pale and weak with recent illness, Wolfe reclined among
his officers, and, in a low tone, blending with the rippling of the
river, recited several stanzas of the recent poem, Gray's 'Elegy
Written in a Country Churchyard.' Perhaps the shadow of his
approaching fate stole upon his mind, as in mournful cadence he
whispered the strangely pathetic words:
'The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave,
Alike await the inexorable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.'
"With a prescience of the hollowness of military renown, he exclaimed,
'I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec
to-morrow.'"--_Withrow's History of Canada, p. 246_.]
[Footnote D:
Yet in spite of thy queenly disdain,
Thou art seared by my passion and pain;
Thou shall hear me repeat till I die for it, Sweet,
"I love thee! I dare to love _thee_."
--_Marie Corelli, "The Romance of Two Worlds."_]
[Footnote E: "The Berlin Decree" of Napoleon, issued November 1, 1806,
declared a blockade of the entire British coast. * * * Great Britain
retaliated by the celebrated "Orders-in-Council," which declared all
traffic with France contraband, and the vessels prosecuting it, with
their cargoes, were seized. These restrictions pressed heavily on the
neutrals, especially the United States, which now engrossed much of the
carrying trade of the world.--_Withrow's History of Canada_, p. 301.]
[Footnote F: War was precipitately declared June 18, 1812. * * *
Almost simultaneously the obnoxious "Orders-in-Council," the chief
ostensible cause of the war, were repealed.--_Ibid_, p. 303.]
[Footnote G: Another cause conspired to fan the war feeling to a
flame. Great Britain, pressed by the difficulty of managing her
immense fleets, asserted the "right of search" of American vessels for
deserters from her army. The U. S. frigate Chesapeake resisted this
right, though sanctioned by international law.--_Ibid_, p. 302.]
[Footnote H: Psalm viii.]
* * * * *
VISIONS.
* * * * *
VISIONS.
I.
THE NEW RESOLVE.
Last night, as I sat in my study,
And thought o'er my lonely life,
I was seized with a passionate longing
To escape from the weary strife;
To flee far away from my fellows,
And far from the city's roar,
And seek on the boundless prairie
A balm for my burning sore--
The sore of the weary spirit,
The burn of the aching heart
Of him who has known true friendship--
Has known it--but only to part.
And I said in that hour of anguish:
"I will fly from the haunts of men,
And seek, in the bosom of Nature,
Relief from my ceaseless pain."
As lonely I sat, and thus pondered,
A voice seemed to speak in my ear;
And the sound of that voice was like music,
And its accents were mellow and clear:
"Weary soul, though all men have forsaken,
Thy God hath remembered thee still;
The sorrow and pain thou hast suffered
Are part of His infinite will.
"Sorrow not, though He call thee to suffer;
Evade not His righteous decree;
Be faithful, and live uncomplaining
The life He has ordered for thee;
"For God is thine infinite Father,
His purpose is all for the best.
Fight bravely, for after the battle
He giveth thee comfort and rest."
And the sound of that voice was like music,
And its accents were mellow and clear;
No longer I felt I was lonely,
For I knew that my Father was near.
And as I sat silent, and pondered,
My sorrow all vanished away;
My strength was "renewed like the eagle's"
And I longed for the breaking of day.
That again I might join in Life's battle,
And fight with a strength not my own,
Till my foes should be vanquished and scattered,
My enemies all overthrown.
For thus would I silence all scoffers,
And show them, by deed and by word,
How strong is the faith of a Christian,
How mighty the arm of the Lord.
II.
THE HIGHER DUTY.
I saw the sun. He shone in splendour bright,
Casting his radiance over dale and hill;
And all creation joyed to see his light:
He shone, and thus fulfilled his Master's will.
I saw the moon and stars. They gave their light
To guide the sailor o'er the trackless sea,
To show the traveller his path by night:
They shone, fulfilling all their Lord's decree.
I looked to earth, and saw the plants and trees,
Each growing fitly to the pattern made,
And yielding proper flowers and fruits. And these
All grew, and thus their Master's will obeyed.
I looked around, and saw my fellow-men,
Created by the same Almighty hand;
A higher destiny was granted them--
To rule the earth, obeying His command.
And, as I looked, the vision grew less bright,
And only through the darkness could I see
That, in their power and God-given might,
Men ruled, fulfilling half their Lord's decree.
Here was much chaos and confusion still;
And here no perfect concord seemed to be.
Each lived as best accorded with his will:
Men ruled, all heedless of their Lord's decree.
And, as I looked, deep sorrow filled my heart;
"Oh man!" I cried, "in God's own image made,
Shall sun, and moon, and trees, all do their part,
And thou alone fall short and retrograde?
"Thou--greatest of all God's created things!
Thou--ruler, by His order, of the earth!
Shake off thy sin, and, on aspiring wings,
Rise! and be worthy of thy glorious birth."
I cried; and from the darkness forth there came
A voice, which said in harsh and mocking tone:
"Dost thou possess so undefiled a name,
Art thou, amongst thy fellows, good alone,
"That thou shouldst vilify thy fellow-men?
Thou art not innocent nor free from guile--
Thou too art man. Go, nor return again,
Sinful, thy fellow-sinners to revile."
It ceased. But, as I turned to join the strife,
In milder accents spake that voice again:
"An humble heart, a pure and useful life--
And not vain words--will raise thy fellow-men."
III.
THE HIDDEN PURPOSE.
I was weary and faint with temptation and trial,
For the prayers I had made had but met with denial,
And the slow-coming doubt, which had once hardly found
In my heart a mean place, was now strong and profound.
And my soul was in anguish, for suffering keen,
And intense disappointment, too often had been
New prepared for my portion, till now, as I lay
By new sorrow re-stung, all my faith passed away.
Then a curse on my lips rose, and darkly I swore
That the God who had led me should lead me no more;
His existence was doubtful, but, if He should be,
He had been but a God of vindiction to me.
So I vowed that henceforward the path that I trod
Should be chosen by me, and not ordered by God;
And relief seemed to greet my resolve as I lay,
All in sleeplessness, waiting the breaking of day.
But as quiet I lay, and thought o'er my decision,
All my wakefulness passed, and I saw in a vision,
By my side standing closely, an Angel of Light,
Clothed in shining apparel resplendently bright.
And I lay there all trembling in fear as I lay,
Till with beckoning finger he led me away;
Then I rose and went forth in the darkness of night,
And, still trembling, I followed that Angel of Light.
And I followed him on till he paused in his flight
Where a Christian lay sleeplessly passing the night;
And I heard him repeat as he lay on his bed,
"My paths are divided, Lord, which shall I tread?"
And I saw that the one led to glory and fame,
While the other fulfilled not his heart-cherished aim;
But the scales of mortality darkened his eye,
And the thing I saw plainly he could not descry.
Then the Angel breathed o'er him, and light seemed to break
O'er his soul, and he saw then the path he should take.
Then his spirit was eased, and sweet sleep o'er him came,
For he thought this would lead him to glory and fame.
But I saw that the path he had chosen that day
Would lead him from glory and fame far away;
But I saw, too, that, were he not led in this path,
The love of the world would have shaken his faith.
For his pride, swelling high in the glory of gain,
Would have led him from God to things sinful and vain.
But his trouble would lead him to God now for rest;
And I saw that the plan of his Maker was best.
Then the Angel went forth, and I followed him still,
Thus impelled by the force of his Heavenly will,
Till he stayed where two lovers stood breathing their vows,
With the fondness that love and deep passion arouse.
Then he put forth his hand, and he pointed in wrath;
And the fever-fiend rose with a horrible laugh.
But the man felt him not as he poisoned his blood,
And the woman saw nought as still smiling she stood.
But I knew that that meeting was surely their last,
For the shadow of death on the man was now cast.
And my heart could but pity the woman, whose pain
I yet knew would redound to her infinite gain.
For deception and falsity deep in the heart
Of the man were writ large, and there truth had no part;
And the pain of her mourning was nought when compared
With the agony he would have caused her, if spared.
Quickly onward then hasted the Angel of God,
And I still followed close in the steps that he trod;
And I saw, when his flight was arrested again,
That we stood where an infant lay tossing in pain.
And the mother, with tear-laden eyes, kneeling there,
Sought relief from her trouble in heart-broken prayer,
As she cried unto God, in a piteous tone,
That He would not deny her the life of her son.
And the Angel himself breathed a sorrowful sigh,
And I thought that a tear glistened bright in his eye,
As he stretched forth his hand, and commanded the soul
Of the child to ascend to its Heavenly goal.
Then I heard a loud cry of distress on the air,
And I saw the lone mother lie grief-stricken there;
And the tears of compassion flowed fast from my eyes,
Though I knew that God's action was kindly and wise.
For disease on the child had imprinted its stain,
And his life would have been but a long-endured pain,
Had his Father not early exerted His might,
And thus called the young soul to the Kingdom of Light.
Then the scene seemed to melt in the darkness away,
And again on the couch in my chamber I lay.
And the Angel of God by my side again stood;
And he gazed on me sadly and said, "God is good."
Then I saw him no more, but with morn I awoke
And remembered the words that the Angel had spoke;
And the scenes of the vision, repictured again,
Passed before me, and brought me a balm for my pain.
For I knew that my God had not called me in vain
To temptation and trial, and I would not complain;
But with gladness I went forth anew to the strife,
Knowing now that my Father was guiding my life.
* * * * *
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
* * * * *
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
THE SERPENT.
Canada, the time approaches,
And is even now at hand,
When thou must declare what ruler
Thine allegiance shall command.
In thy midst there creeps a Serpent--
Deadliest of all thy foes--
Gliding in among thy councils,
Spreading venom where she goes.
Like the fatal boa-constrictor
Charming those who soon must die,
She can so transfix her victim
By the glitter of her eye,
That the greatest of thy statesmen
Dares not question her decree,
But in meek humiliation
Bows to her, abjuring thee.
Rise, Canadians! and boldly
Thrust the Serpent from your land;
And should any strive to help her,
Crush them with your martial hand.
Rise unanimous, and fear not
In your country's cause to fight;
Better bloodshed than surrender
To the wily Serpent's might.
Hurl from power the men who basely
Truckle to the Serpent's will;
Cast them out and call on others--
Truer men--their place to fill.
Men whose chiefest aim shall be to
Fight for Canada and home--
Men who will not bow before the
Dictates of the Church of Rome.
Canada, the time approaches,
And is even now at hand--
Wilt thou choose that Rome or England
Thine allegiance shall command?
PRO DEO ET PATRIA.
Silent yet fiercely the battle is raging;
Blood is not flowing, but poison is spread;
Freedom and slavery madly are waging
A war that will last till its cause shall be dead.
Canada, thine is the field of the battle,
Nor would the conflict be long or severe,
Were not thy statesmen, "like dumb, driven cattle,"
Led by emolument, daunted by fear.
Slowly advances the Jesuit faction,
Crafty and subtle the means they employ.
Protestants fight, but uncertain their action--
Party dissensions their power destroy.
Love of their country still loudly professing,
On to the conflict _divided_ they go.
Firmest allegiance to Britain confessing,
Still _disunited_ they fight with her foe.
Canada, these are the men who defend thee--
These the brave soldiers who fight in thy name:
Fierce is the struggle, but soon will the end be;
And Leo shall lead thee to glory and fame!
DESPONDENCY.
_A Response to "Courage," by Celia Thaxter._
You have said that there is not a fear
Or a doubt that oppresses your soul,
That your faith is so strong
That it bears you along,
Ever holding you in its control.
'Tis a comfort to know there is one
Whose allegiance cannot be denied,
But I fain would enquire,
(For your faith is far high'r
Than is mine): Have you ever been tried?
Have you sought to aspire to a life
Higher far than the one that is past?
Have you laboured through years,
By your hopes crushing fears,
But to meet disappointment at last?
Have the friends who should love you the best,
In your absence forgotten that love,
And refused to impart
To your grief-stricken heart
All the solace their kindness would prove?
Has the world misconstrued your intents,
And endeavoured to sully your fame?
Has the venomous tongue
With its calumny stung
Your proud heart, and dishonoured your name?
I desire not to "chide" you nor "vex,"
But I ask you to answer me now;
Did the torturing pain
Of a love that is vain
Ever furrow your heart like a plough?
Have you loved with so fervent a love
That, when failure and hopelessness came,
All the torments of hell
In your breast seemed to dwell,
Scorching courage and faith in their flame?
One of these may have fall'n to your lot;
What if all were apportioned to me?
Could I then "lift my head,"
Nor a single tear shed?--
Has such faith been allotted to thee?
I have sought to be true to my God,
I have sought to be faithful as you;
But such "tumult and strife"
Have embittered my life
That I am not so faultlessly true.
TO L. W.
When the path of my life
Lay through trouble and strife,
And temptation encompassed me round,
As a light in the shade
Thou wast sent to mine aid;
And a harbour of refuge was found.
I beheld in thine eye,
As a beam from on high,
The ray of compassion revealed;
And I turned in relief
From the Valley of Grief;
I turned to be strengthened and healed.
In the words that you breathed
All my sorrow was sheathed,
And peace, like a dove, settled down.
And the calm of your presence,
Like mercy's pure essence,
Recaptured the faith that had flown.
Since then, if perplexed,
If harassed or vexed,
If tempted, afflicted or tried,
I have sought thee to cheer,
Thou hast ever been near
To comfort, to soothe and to guide.
Thus a thrill of affection
Must greet the reflection
That thou hast considered my needs;
And my heart can but move
With a reverent love
As I ponder thy merciful deeds.
Though feeble and weak
Are the words that I speak,
Such gratitude wells in my soul,
That I dare not express
What I fain would confess,
Lest my pen should escape my control.
Yet these measures restrained
Will have surely attained
The purpose that caused them to be,
If of all that I feel
They should chance to reveal
But a hint, in a whisper, to thee.
YOU WRONG ME, KATE.
You wrong me, Kate, you wrong me
In harbouring the thought
That he who loves so fondly
Would injure thee in aught.
The pang that I must feel, Kate,
When dark suspicion lurks
Within thy breast, is real, Kate,
And mischievously works.
The tone with doubt inflected,
The calm, reproachful look,
The name of one suspected
In light arraignment spoke;
These, these enforce the heart-ache,
And instigate the strife,
And these, in chiefest part, take
The joy from out my life.
For bright within my soul, dear,
On Love's unsullied throne,
With absolute control, dear,
Thou reignest Queen alone.
With reverence I chose thee,
With pride I placed thee there;
And none did e'er oppose thee,
And none shall ever dare.
All womankind shall merit
A just regard from me,
And all the sex inherit
A claim to courtesy;
But none has ever claimed me
Her vassal, slave or thrall,
For Kate, my heart has named thee
The sceptred Queen of all.
Then trust me, Kate, oh! trust me,
In absence, far or near,
And judge me not unjustly,
But hold my promise dear.
Will not my word content thee?
I cannot give thee more:
Oh Kate, my Kate, repent thee,
And love me as before!
FLOSSIE.
I know a maiden, scarce thirteen,
A sweet and gentle maid,
With dignified and graceful mien,
And manner calm and staid.
But I've seen her, when none but her parents are nigh,
When her spirits are flowing exuberantly,
With her feet tossing high, while her arms in accordance,
Are wildly upraised in the Fling or the Sword-dance.