Chapter 6

My friend, on this your wedding-day, Where Love and Hope unite, To yield with Hymenal ray The bridal morning bright.-- When hands are clasped And cups are quaffed, When round go wishes true, This song of mine For Auld Lang Syne I send to her and you. An echo of the bygone times To mingle with your wedding chimes!

"Good luck," on this your wedding morn, "God speed" for years to be; Good wishes, of old friendship born For days ye both shall see. When in your bowers, Bloom promise-flowers, Ah! ne'er may sorrow's gloom Bring shadow there, May sunlight fair Your hearth and home illume! All good, all joy, all blessing true, I wish to your fair bride and you!

May Heaven its choicest riches send To bless your life's long way; May Love its lasting beauty lend That age can't steal away. Oh! may your sky As swift years fly Be cloudless, bright and fair; May joys' own glow Dispel all woe, And chase away grim care! May every good that God can send Be yours through all your life, my friend!

"ONLY FRIENDS."

We said "good-bye" in a quiet lane, the gloaming, years ago; few were our words about "parting pain"-- we were "only friends" you know.

Good friends had we been in the dear, dead hours, that still in our hearts would live, At morn we had wandered the wild-wood bowers, We had roamed through the lanes at eve.

We had gathered the sweets of the summer glades, The rose, and the violet blue; We had talked of Love in the twilight shades, And of hearts that were tried and true.

But of our heart's hopes, or our own love-dreams, Ah! never a word said we, For Fate had forbidden our lips such themes, And "friends" we could only be.

And our farewell came, like a boding gloom, That darkened life's morning ray, And joy's glad glow, and Hope's tender bloom Died out of one heart that day.

How we thought in that hour of the bygone days, Of the golden summer prime, Of the mountains wild, and the woodland ways, And the spell of the gloaming time!

And, it may be, the memory of whispered words Came o'er us with subtle power, Awaking, unbidden, our full hearts' chords In the pain of that parting hour.

For our hands were clasped, and our lips once met, The first time, and the last; Ah me! 'twere well could we all forget, Some scenes in our buried past;--

For the blue outline of the mountains high, The lake, and the woodland green, The quiet lane, and the twilight sky, Too oft in my dreams are seen!

And still, tho' the summers are bright and fair, And the summer woods are gay, To me there is something wanting there That has passed from my life away!

ODE TO SUMMER.

Beauteous Queen! with crown of flowers, On your tresses sunny sheen; Welcome! to the "Lone-Land" bowers, To our prairies, wild and green! In your path spring flowers to meet you, Nature's choicest glories greet you, Fair Enchantress! I entreat you, Listen to my lay!

Smiling Summer, down the ages, Still your praises have been sung, And the poets and the sages, Who have spoke with gifted tongue,-- In our legends, old and hoary, Thrilling song, and 'trancing story, Live to-day in deathless glory, Thrill our souls anew!

Still their songs our breasts inspire, Still is theirs undying fame; Theirs the untaught poet-fire, That I may not hope to claim;-- Louder than the war-host dashing, Brighter than their bright spears clashing, Shine their souls, like lightning flashing Through their thunder-words!

Radiant Queen! Their songs combining Yield to thee their highest praise, Round thy brows of beauty twining, Fadeless garlands of their lays;-- Lays whose light our gloom has rifted, And our yearnings heavenward lifted, As we soar with them, the gifted, Far from earth away.

Queen of Beauty! Still we sing thee, Worthy of the poets' song; Willing homage still we bring thee As the ages roll along. Songs of birds, and breath of flowers, Wind-notes, charming woodland bowers, Morn's fresh glories, gloaming hours, Yield their sweets to thee!

Now the prairie-lands are smiling With the wealth thy reign bestows, Brightness golden days beguiling, O'er smooth sands life's river flows. Through the air glad sounds are ringing, Nature summer idylls singing, I, my simple off'ring bringing, Kneel at Summer's feet!

CHANGED.

It seems the same as it used to be, when I watched the sunset glow, In the days of beauty and gladness, the times of long ago; Like a light that is dim and far-off, for dark years, full of pain, Lie, rolled between me and the beautiful past, that never can come again!

Yet Ireland's hills are as verdant now, and the sun, as he sinks to rest, As then pours his parting glory, o'er Slieve Gallion's purple crest, A glory that brightens and lingers, as though it were fain to stay, Till the twilight shadows darken, and daylight dies away.

On Mullaboy the darkness looms weird on the lonely hill, The cattle have ceased their lowing, and the song-birds' notes are still; And here, in the gloom and silence, 'neath the stars and the quiet sky, Old memories throng around me, of days long, long gone by.

Two scenes are ever fairest, and first in this heart of mine, And with clearer light and brighter, 'mong the dimmer phantoms shine, And perfect in light and shadow, in tracing true and grand Are the pictures as memory paints them, with firm and master- hand.

The first is a cloudless moonlight, in calm and silvery sheen, And the range of the Morne Mountains in the dim background is seen; Beneath them the sea is rolling, all fair in the gentle light, And beauty and peace are blending in the hush of the summer night.

I gaze, till again in fancy, I hear the waves' soft roar, As they break in wild sweet music along Rostrevor's shore; And a voice with their song is blending telling the old sweet tale, Of a fond, true love, that through life's long years would never change or fail.

That picture fades before me and the second comes in view-- A walk 'neath o'er-arching beeches, with the sunlight glinting through Leaves that rustle and whisper on branches that wave above, A silent, tearful parting, the death of a deathless love!

Dead, and yet unforgotten, worn, but never estranged, The glory and brightness of morning to the darkness of midnight changed! And life is dull and dreary, and joy from earth is fled, For the love that was light and beauty, and joy and peace, is dead.

SABBATH ON THE PRAIRIE.

The year's first, blushing roses, Were decking the prairie's breast; And the summer garb of beauty Made fair the wild North-West. It flashed in the sedgy hollows, And smiled in the woodland dell; It whispered in low, soft zephyrs That breathed o'er the lake and fell. How it glowed in the mystic star-shine Of the clear blue Northern sky; How it crmison'd and flushed in grandeur In the sunset's sweet good-bye! And gaudy birds from the South-land Made brilliant the poplar grove, And plaintiff calls came sounding, From the haunts where the plovers rove.

With dream-notes in the gloaming The wind-lutes swept the boughs,-- Sweet songs of the distant stretches, Where the moose and bison browse. And we lay in our camp, and listened, And thought of the wilds untrod; Of the misty, lonely future, And the homes on the stranger sod.

And still o'er the wide, wide ocean, Our eager thoughts would stray, To the homes and scenes, to the loves and hopes Of the youth-time, far away. Then we slept, to dream of the morrow, "'Twill be Sunday at home," we said; "But our church must be the prairie, With the blue sky overhead."

The Sabbath dawned in beauty, With a calm whose breath of peace, Made a solemn grand cathedral Of the wild vast wilderness. The woods were the soft-toned organs, And the winds, thro' their alleys dim, Now raised some high, glad anthem, Now chanted some low, sweet hymn.

We came from our tents together, And stood on the lone hill-side, To join in the songs of Nature, That Sabbath morning-tide. "With one consent let all the earth," Swelled on' the sunny air. And then, how each home-sick, heart went forth In that strange hour of prayer! And the text the preacher gave us Was, "Rejoice in the Lord always," Alike in the summer sunshine, And the gloom of winter days. And the clouds of our gloom were banished Like the mists from the morning air; We had strength for the untried future For God is everywhere.

AT EVENING.

Slowly along the darkening sky The twilight comes with stealthy tread; Far out to west great cloud-ranks lie, By sunset flushed a rosy red. Oh! shadows of the gloaming time, Gather, and loom, and darkly fall, The winding path to Fancy's clime, Lies hidden 'neath your dusky pall.

Pent in the city, now I dream Of country scenes, of lanes and flowers, Of woodland glen, and woodland stream, Pictures of bygone sunset hours! Oh, bygone! mighty claims you own, That summon me to seek your shrine, I hear the call and wait alone, Until the charmed light shall shine.

'Tis breaking! Glistening near and far A radiance floats, of dazzling light Untouched by Time, or Tempest-scar I view my past again to-night! Oh! fair, false hope, your fruit is pain, Oh, Love! when life's spring leaves were green, Sweet, e'en in thought to see again Th' Elysian called "what might have been."

"What might have been," we scan it o'er And charmed we live the dreams in thought, But wake to find that mist-world shore, Like cloudy vapor melt to nought-- The brightness fades, the sweet rays die, Deep darkness falls and night is come; A wan new moon looks down the sky, And stars are trembling in the gloom.

Morning, and noon, and evening grey, And mystic twilight, all are flown; And e'en my dreams are pass'd away,-- Again I find myself alone! Young love's sweet morn, when hope was nigh. Stern noonday toiling, which is best? Ah! me, they all must fade and die,-- 'Tis but the end can give us rest.

IN PEACE.

The name, the age, and a sentence written On a marble cross o'er a grassy mound, Where, calmly beneath sleeps the tired heart smitten, Cruelly pierced by a dastard wound, At peace in the heart of the restless city. She slumbers well in her lowly bed, With never a tear of love or pity By kindly mourner above her shed.

High birth is safely, its rank and splendor, Blazoned lineage, pride and show, Scorn coward justice, who fears to tender, The lash to vice, in this world below, What matter--a thousand such things have happened Man has been false since woman was fair;-- But say, must he stand at yon High Tribunal, And what account shall he render there?

TO THE SEA.

'Tis eventide and the sun is dying, Painting the sky in its roseate beam, And out to sea-ward the cloud-ranks lying, Are crimson-bright in his parting beam; In dazzling light o'er the waves extending, In burnished glow on each foamy crest, At the golden portals of sunset ending, Its pathway illumines the ocean's breast. Oh! light of the sunset, soft and tender, Oh! waves that shine in the rosy glow, Oh! mountains, so grand in your hoary splendour, Oh! billowy ocean that heaves below!

Oh! rolling waves, that are ever beating, In wild, sweet music along the shore, Tell me tales ye are still repeating, Sighing and moaning forever more; In seething foam 'mong the grey rocks meeting, Where, rushing, ye break in doleful roar!

Sighing on in your restless roaming Wailing so wildly and ceaselessly; In the morning light, or the shadowy gloaming, Tell me, what are thy songs, oh, sea!

Is thine the wail of a life-long sorrow, The hopeless crying of hope long dead; The dearth of loneness that cannot borrow One beam of light from the brightness fed, To point to the dawn of a fairer morrow Far away in the future spread?

But, heedless, it rolls in its wonderous splendour, Onward, in cadence sublime and vast; Are these ocean-songs, in their mystic grandeur Requiems sung for the vanished past? It is buried and dead, yet still unsmitten, It lives and blooms in one hidden spot, Where in Memory's chamber each scene is written, Graven too deeply for Time to blot!

But see! o'er the waters the light grows dimmer, The white-winged sea-gulls to Westward fly; Pale stars look down in a fitful glimmer As the crimson fades from the opal sky. I soon shall sleep, and perchance in dreaming, I'll live again in the time that's fled, And fancy the rays of its brightness beaming In mellow radiance around my bed And it may be I'll dream not of bliss that's fleeting But of that fair life that is yet to be, Where no cloud can arise to dim our meeting As I stand with _him_ by the Jasper Sea!

NOT LOST.

"Mine," saith the Lord, "these jewels bright and pearless. Mine, in the day when I shall count mine own!" So He has called them, and the hearts left cheerless Sad and bereaved, must mourn the loved ones flown "Mine," saith the Lord, He gave, and He has taken In wisdom infinite He dealt the blow; And round our hearth their places are forsaken But _they_ are gathered to His fold, we know!

Home-gathered early, when the sun so brightly In life's fair morning tinged their curls with gold, And o'er their snowy brows all calm and lightly-- The joyous span of earth's brief time had roll'd. Home-gathered early; fair to mortal seeming, The promises that o'er their pathway hung, But ah! we cannot e'en in fondest dreaming Conceive their bliss amid the cherub throng.

Eye hath not seen, nor to man's heart is given, To know what to His loved one He bestows What joys untold the ransomed band in heaven, Through the eternal, blissful ages knows. And the bereavement is no hopeless sorrow, No lasting parting, but an ending pain; We feel that upward, toward the glad to-morrow Are drawn these links of the earth-binding chain.

For well we know that these, our darlings, entered, Into His joy, shall be at last restored So while our hope in perfect faith is centred We wait for resurrection in the Lord.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS.

Worn and wearied on earth's road Oft with stumbling feet I go; Eyes that fain would look to God Dim and weak with sin and woe. But when, all my guilty stains Rise in dread immensity, Then I know my Saviour's pains Took the load of guilt from me. Pardoned, healed, redeemed, restored, Then I look to Christ, my Lord!

When the clouds of sorrow rise, And the light of woe is dim, When the subtle Tempter tries To win back my soul to him. Then I look to One Who said, "All things I have overcome; Onward go, be not afraid I shall guide to yonder Home!" Then what evil can betide While I lean on Christ, my Guide?

Worn with toil of earthly strife-- Wearied hands and heart grown faint, Tired of all the ills of life, For the water brooks I pant, Then above the world's wild din, I can hear "Come unto Me; I shall heal these wounds of sin, Give you rest, and make you free!" When my doubting soul is blest When I look to Christ my Rest.

Journeying o'er this path of tears Oft my doubting heart is cold, Far away my Home appears-- The gates of pearl--the street of gold. Can I ever enter there? All the way with danger rife,-- Then the Master's voice I hear,

"I am the Way, the Truth, the Life! Ah! what doubt can then dismay While I walk with Christ, the Way!

"Looking unto Jesus" still I can bid my doubting cease, Joyful, though beset with ill, Fighting, yet at perfect peace-- Sorrowful, yet filled with joy, Tossed, yet feeling all secure; Earth nor Hell cannot annoy While my peace with Him is sure! "Looking unto Jesus," blest! Soul at anchor, heart at rest!

BY THE WAVES.

A merry leap on the sunny air, And a gleam of tresses, golden bright; A 'witching face that is wonderous fair, A creature of beauty and joy and light.

A rocky coast with the waves at play, Wild wandering waves that are mad with glee; "Tell me, what do the wild waves say, Are their words in their music?" she asks of me.

I start and shiver, my heart grows cold, Aye, cold in the flush of the August sun, Whose glory lies on the sea like gold, In farewell radiance, ere day is done.

The eager smile from her lips has died, For the pain on my face was plain to see, And she turns to pace the sand by my side Watching the billows silently.

She does not know--could my darling dream, Of lost, dead love in her golden world, Where the hope-flowers bloom, and the joy-lights gleam 'Neath the rosy light of Love's flag unfurled!

Oh! girlie mine, with the true brown eyes, And the perfect faith in your fair to be, Could I lead you back o'er the bridge of sighs That spans the gulf 'tween the past and me.

I could show you love in its full-tide swell, Its syren beauty its dream-world light; Then, the gathering storm, and the deep-toned knell, As Love lies bleeding in clouds and night!

Would you step aside from the shining coils That circle to-day round your dainty feet, Could I show you the woes without the wiles, In the dregs of that chalice, bitter-sweet?

Ah! no, sweet maid, you must "live and learn," Though experience is bought, it cannot be sold; And the heart joy's thrill, and the heartache's burn, Must needs be felt, they were never told!

So live and smile in your fair to-day And wear the jewel of maiden-faith; May its diadem gleam on your brow for aye, And Truth with your Love walks in step with death.

IN MEMORIAM. A. S.

Oh! land of partings, brief and sad probation-- When all is brightest, then farewell must come! And the lone mourner weeps in desolation, Earth's fairest seeping in the silent tomb.

Far from her home, where kindly hands have tendered As graceful tribute, to her well-loved name; Not by chill stranger-feeling coldly rendered, But by the care respect and love can claim.

And still her memory shall be loved and cherished, By all who knew her in her sojourn here; Like some fair flower that in the morning perished In spring's bright hours when skies were blue and clear

Oh' widowed mother-heart! dead e'en to hoping Longing to leave the life whence joy has flown. The eager hands through earth's grim shadows groping! "Darling, come back to me, I am alone!"

Oh! yearning heart-cry, in deep anguish spoken, In sleepless midnights, or in twilight dreams! Oh! aching pain-throb of the spirit broken, Soon shall these clouds be pierced by Mercy's beams.

These deep, dense clouds of anguish and repining-- Darkness and gloom that but the present show E'en now, behind them, in the brightness shining. Wait angel-bands that minister to woe.

Soon shall they come, and bring the consolation, When the first burst of agony is o'er, Then when thy soul is calmed by resignation, Point to the meeting on the other shore:--

Where safe at home, in Christ's eternal keeping, Celestial joy her ransomed being fills, She waits, when thou hast left this vale of weeping To greet thee on the Everlasting Hills.

CHRISTMAS.

FIFTY YEARS AGO.

Christmas! why child, can this be Christmas Eve? Ah, me! the years run swiftly on; Threads in the warp of this short life we live. And now my chequered web is well nigh spun.

And Christmas seems not what it used to be,-- The good old customs all are changed, I wean; Yet memory of old times is left with me-- The days whose brightness these dimm'd eyes have seen.

Come, Elsie, bring your stool beside my chair, Stir up the fire to shine with brighter glow, And while it flickers on your sunny hair, I'll tell a Christmas-tale of long ago--

Full fifty years ago, when I was young, And this grey hair like yours was golden-bright, When mirth and laughter dwelt on brow and tongue, In fleet winged hours, that sped with magic flight.

Sometimes, in waking dreams it all comes back,-- Familiar forms move softly through the room, Then leave me, gliding up the moonlight track, Wafting sweet music down the twilight gloom.

And at these times I see the home that stood, In the lone highland valley far away; The snow-crowned hills, the lake, the lonely wood, Through which I wandered many a summer day.

And I was happy in those summers, child!-- Life in its morning brightness knows not gloom, The rose-tinged future-mists hide waste and wild As sharp thorns hide beneath the rose's bloom.

And girlhood seemed like some fair sunny day Without a cloud to mar the summer sky. On pleasure's airy pinions borne away Too swiftly far the winged hours sped by.

Then came a glory-crown to gild the years,-- I loved; but 'twas no fancy of the hour, No fleeting day-dream fraught with hopes and fears, But Love, that ruled my soul with sovereign power.

A love that strengthened as the days went past,-- Dearer and holier far than all beside; An Eden-world of beauty grand and vast, With joys new-born, out spreading far and wide.

Seemed then mine own; and the long years to be, Would fill my life with happiness and light, While this great love would shed its beams on me In glad refulgence making all things bright

For he--the hero of my life's romance, Was dear to me--ah! words can never show That passion'd love, how every tone and glance Tender or cold, brought happiness or woe

But cherished hatred goads to bitter end And, mocking, fain would quench youth's ardent fire We saw a shadow on our life descend-- The full charged storm-cloud of long-gathering ire.

My father boasted his high birth and name And owned a pedigree that he could trace, Back to the stern old chiefs, whose hostile fame-- He held the pride and honor of our race.

And still when Christmas came he loved to see All the old customs of our sires kept up, Huge yule-logs graced the hearth, and Christmas glee Rang high, 'mid merry song and festal cup.

And on that Christmas day of which I tell The seasons revelry was held the same; The stately hall with guests was furnished well And, 'mong, the rest, was bidden Hector Graem

He drank to me--"his lady fair and bright," As was the custom of the olden time, "Your lady! never, while the sun gives light Shall Graem ever wed with child of mine!"

And pointing to the door with haughty mein My father bade him from his board begone;-- And then a curtain fell upon life's scene-- Blackness of darkness where Hope's sun had shone

Some family-feud, in days long passed away Between the Graems and the MacDonnell's rose. And still its memory in his bosom lay Though seeming peace was made between the foes

But ah! my child, how can I tell the rest? I lived; but Heaven in mercy spared the blow Of thought and memory then, and weeks that pass'd Were one drear blank--I felt not then my woe.