Part 5

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.

_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.

_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._

From Bera's palace, and from Sodom's shrine, A thousand scintillating rays of beauty shine; The gorgeous parapets of beaten burnished gold Enlightened fancy can with awe behold. Those marble walls of rainbow-tinted hue, Please and instruct and yet astound the view. Each curve of beauty and each line of grace Relates some annal of the ancient place. Upon these sculptured walls each Sodomite may trace The birthplace and the lineage of his entire race. He here may read, in many a flowing line, The maiden efforts of the Tuneful Nine, Who first appeared and strung the quivering lyre, When new created stars their Maker's praise aspire; Theirs is the music of the quick revolving spheres, And theirs the power to bathe a world in tears. They paint in colors, dipped in liquid truth, The brow of beauty and the lip of youth. Thought, tame in prose in their enchanting line, Is dressed in beauty and is half divine. They wing love's arrows with consumate art, And make the melting music of the heart. Youth they instruct and tottering age sustain, Virtue exalt and hideous voice restrain. Inside this palace life is but a dream Of beauty, flowing in a constant stream. Here silken curtains hang on wires of gold, And zephyr-satin, whose capacious fold Ten thousand giddy turns and windings take The secret chambers of the place to make. Each article of comfort man can know With priceless gems and flashing colors glow; Each drinking vessel is a solid gem; Each odorous flower grows on a parent stem; Birds of bright plumage raise their tuneful note And scatter scents ambrosial as they float. The crystal fountains generous wine dispense, And food delicious satisfies the sense; The air is balmy as the breath of spring, And every atom is a beauteous thing. One thing alone this mighty place appalls: No woman dwells within these sculptured walls. Here man with man in lustful caprice plays, And Heaven's righteous mandate disobeys; Sinks, through his lust, below the groveling beast, Who to the female makes his amorous suit. Within those walls are stores of untold wealth, Secured by carnage and by midnight stealth; Beneath each divan and each downy couch The smouldering fires of retribution crouch. Each glittering tankard and each costly plate Reflects the fierceness of each pending fate. The quenchless tortures of Jehovah's wrath Is earthward tending in a destined path! The brilliant sun of light, the mighty sire, Seems bathed in blood and heaven's all afire. From pole to pole the livid lightnings flash Till all creation trembles 'neath the crash; And earthward, still, the melting heavens bend, While blinding floods of hissing flames descend, And seas of lava, with three mighty bounds, The now doomed city and the plain surrounds. Now, inward flowing, rolls the mighty tide, On whose dread billows death alone can ride; And upward rising, with tremendous sweep, Its molten billows awful union keep With floods descending from the flaming sky, And Sodom knows her hour has come to die! Her frightened millions in a circle band, And view approaching death on every hand. Around them rolls a sea of fire; Above them flames the torch of Heaven's ire; While hissing lava, in descending rain, Creates new horror and gives birth to pain. Each gorgeous palace and each mart of trade Is buried for their wickedness and in ashes laid. In vain they call their idols, name by name. Their garments all are wrapt in living flame, Their quivering bodies tortured to the bone, Their parched lips in vain assay a moan, Their eyes still pleading with each bated breath _Not_ for forgiveness, but for instant death!

The circling oceans, with resounding roar, Meet and commingle--and the scene is o'er!

_A TRIBUTE TO THE WOLFE SISTERS._

Music, the sweetest all-inspiring gift of God. Is ever welcome to the prisoner's ear; There's nothing makes me feel half so well As music of the heart when sung with cheer.

Here in this prison as I sit and pore Over the past and present of my life, My heart sings ever, o'er and o'er, The darkest bitterness of a prisoner's strife.

But hark! in yonder chapel shrine I hear sweet music as of yore; I ask, "What music is that sounds so fine?" The answer comes, "The Wolfes are at the door!"

I hasten, then, to brush my prison garb, And toilet try to fix as best I can, And then unto the chapel wend my way; When there upon the rostrum stand _Five of the sweetest singers of our day_!

There's Amy Wolfe, who changed her name to Brooks; She leads her choir without the aid of books. She sings with voice so sweet and delicate That to her, First Soprano I dedicate.

Next, Minnie S., at the age of twenty-three, Sings like a lark and busy as a bee, Carefully guarding that no mistakes are made, And handles her bewitching voice with harmony well staid.

Then sang the sweet Zoraydo F., with baritone most clear, Who, at the age of twenty, delights to bring us cheer. It seems as if her heart and soul were bent on doing right, And when she sang she sang so sweet--Oh! it was out of sight.

The next I saw was Lyda M., with scarlet cheeks aglow; She sings with voice most charming, a clear and sweet alto, She's next the younger of them all, because she's just eighteen, She captivates the heart of man--what a fairy little Queen!

Then last, not least, the little one, that is, Miss Kittie C., She just so busy when she sings she's like a honey bee. Her eyes are clear as crystal, her locks are flowing gold, She sings soprano quite as fine as any I have told.

I sat down in an empty seat close by the outside door, And listened to such warbling as I never heard before. Their voices drowned all sorrow and gushed forth many a tear, _Not_ for horror that I felt--it brought me real good cheer.

They drove away the pain of woe, that none but prisoners smart; They sang the ever blessed song--true music of the heart. We doff our striped caps to you, O girls of sweetest song, And may we bid you be our friends and return again ere long.

Adieu, adieu, our lady friends, do not now say "farewell," Because we wish you all return with song too sweet to tell. Come back! come back again and sing some lovely Sabbath day, For your presence here to sing good cheer we all will ever pray.

And now unto the aged Wolfes please let me say one word: Your home must be a palace filled with sirenic good; Proud may you feel--and justly, too--of these five daughters fair, And great the good they've done for us while in this prison lair.

There's but one wish that emanates from a prisoner's wicked heart. That is to say, without delay, "May heaven take their part, And to them bring eternal joy that'll pierce them like a dart!" Each song they sing is welcome here--a masterpiece of art!

And now to part we sadly must (while I'm immersed in prison dust). But hoping, too, 'twill not be long ere you return with sweetest song. Adieu! Adieu!

_PRISONERS._

God pity the wretched prisoners In their lonely cells today; Whatever the sins that tripped them, God pity them still, I say.

Only a strip of sunshine Cleft by rusty bars: Only a patch of azure, Only a cluster of stars.

Once they were little children, And perhaps their wayward feet Were led by a gentle mother Toward the golden street.

Therefore, if in life's forest They since have lost their way. Whatever the sins that tripped them, God pity them still, I say.

_TWO LETTERS._

BY GEO. W. H. HARRISON.

I wrote a letter while jealous rage In my bosom reigned supreme; The words were fraught with anger, And a loathsome disesteem.

They fell on the pure white paper And marred its stainless page, Yet eased my maddened spirit, And appeased my senseless rage.

I gloatingly tho't of the dumb despair That letter would surely give, To one who had broken her faithful vows In a way I could never forgive.

I doubted not the perfect truth Of all I heard them say; She, like other girls, was false While her lover was away.

I knew she vowed she would be true While life itself would last, Yet thought that she, like others, Too soon forgot the past.

I hastily sealed the cruel note, And placed it next my heart, Determined upon the morrow To give it an early start.

I threw myself upon the couch And sought for sweet repose, And in my restless slumbers A vision then arose:

I saw in that terrible vision A woman whose eager face Beamed with yearning, restless love As her trembling fingers traced

A message of love and tenderness To her loved one far away. As her pure lips quietly murmured, "God grant we must some day!"

She sealed her letter with dainty hands, And laid it by with tender care: Then humbly kneeled beside her bed, And poured her soul in prayer.

She prayed for her impassioned lover In a warm, impassioned strain, That proved her heart both warm and true And free from guilt or stain.

She arose from her kneeling posture To answer a call at her door: She smiled as she saw the letter The hand of the servant bore.

One glance she gave--then burst the seal With trembling, eager haste, And rapidly heard the cruel words My reckless hand had traced.

Her lovely face turned deathly pale As she wildly clutched the air. She tottered and fell--a senseless heap-- A prey to dumb despair.

So still she lay I deemed her dead, And sprang to raise her in my arms. I loved her with the old, wild love, And bowed to her peerless charms.

"Speak! darling, speak!" I wildly cried. "Pray, come back from the voiceless shore. I cannot, dare not live an hour, Unless I hear your voice once more!"

She opened wide her lovely eyes, And cast on me one lingering glance So full of injured innocence It smote me like a lance.

I seized the heartless letter, Curst cause of all my shame, And, with one imprecation, Consigned it to the flame.

She watched me with a languid smile, And pointed to her heart: "You have destroyed the proof," she said, "But can you ease the smart?"

"I have been true to all my vows, Heaven judge me if I lie! But since you deem me to be false, Go--leave me here--to die!"

At last I woke and quickly drew The accursed sheet from my breast-- Burning it with a ready hand-- And gently sank to rest.

I wrote another, whose tender words Were soft as the ripple of a stream; And thought what a contrast it would be To the letter she read in my dream!

And my darling greatly wonders Why my letters with tenderness teem, Since I have never told her Of the letter she read in my dream.

_A PRAYER FOR JUSTICE._

Oh, God in heaven up on high, How long this cruel strife? Most I but perish in this den To end this wretched life? Is there no justice here on earth? Must truth remain crushed down And vile and wicked, cruel man Forever look and frown? Is there no power to bring to light The _truth_ of my offense? Must perjury and bribery Prevail forever hence? Can enemies, vile, cruel things, Twist truth all out of shape, And cause one who's not guilty To morally wear death's crepe? Oh, God! is there no remedy For earthly subjects thus To be relieved from wretched pain Without this earthly fuss? Oh, God! to Thee we call for help. Wil't thou but listen--hear? Look down upon me as I be, My innocence thou'lt surely see, These shackles, bolts, and prison bars, The heavy locks and massive key-- Hear, Oh, God! Oh, hear my prayer And set this captive free.

_BIRTHDAY MUSINGS._

BY G. W. VAN WEIGHS.

Just sixty years ago today Mine eyes first saw the light; Now age, with ever onward tread, Presages coming night.

Ah! is it night? Or shall it be That morning's light shall break, And from my soul such music bring As earth could never wake?

Where are the friends of earlier years-- Sleep they to wake no more? Or do they walk with joyful tread Heaven's ever radiant shore?

If death is but oblivion's gate, Why younger grows the soul with years? Whose are the faces that we see When melts the hearts in tears?

Oh, whence the strains the soul can hear When all is hushed in sleep, And none, save God and angels, near When souls their vigils keep?

Is all religion but a myth? Are all our hopes in vain? Is heaven affectation's child, Born of disordered brain?

Tell me not such bolts and bars Can keep me from the skies; I'd sooner deem yon blushing rose A satyr in disguise.

_A TRIBUTE TO THE WOLFE SISTERS._

BY GEO W. H. HARRISON.

Come. O come, ye radiant sisters, heaven honored "Tuneful Nine." Smooth my ever rugged numbers and inspire my drooping line. Aid my muse to tell the story never breathed to mortal ear. How this sweet angelic chorus happens to be lingering near. In yon fair and blissful aiden, far beyond the faintest star. Once the guardian angels slumbered, leaving heaven's gates ajar! And five wandering seraphs wandered, in their rapid, noiseless flight, Thro' the gates, whose vaulted arches echoed p├Žans of delight! Quick as thought their tireless pinions clave the unresisting air. Till they reached the _five Wolfe sisters_, maids of form and features fair, And within these hearts they lingered, tuning every chord to song. Till the pathos of their music stilled the ever restless throng! Earth and heaven stood astonished and Jehovah's love decreed: "Let them stay! such strains seraphic mortal beings can but heed!"

Have you heard their wondrous music? Have you felt their sweet control? If not, friend, you've scarcely sounded half the mysteries of your soul! Amy, soul-enrapturing artist, sweetly sounds the soft prelude. And beneath her skilfull fingers every note, with life imbued. Stills the throng, whose very silence is an encore loud and deep. And each thought, save that of music, is forgotten or asleep. Katherine's rich and full suprano, like the Autumn's mellow morn. Wakes the slumbering soul to action like the practiced huntsman's horn! Mamie's soft, melodious voice nobly takes the second part. And the pathos of her music captivates the raptured heart! Lida's faultless second alto deepens all the noble strain Till the mind forgets its madness and the heart rejects in pain. Then Zoraydo's matchless voice sweeps the soul along Till we know that _perfect music can be breathed in earthly song_! Hear, O hear the melting music pouring from each heaving breast; How it wakes the heart to rapture! How it soothes the soul to rest!