Canada And Other Poems Part 10

And when, from many mouths, she heard Her praises told aloud, 'Twas but for simple duty done, This modest maid felt proud.

And when, into her lone abode Fam'd artists quickly came, No swelling and self-conscious pride Did animate her frame.

They knew rewards would scarcely do, To tell what should be told, And yet, they gave this modest girl Five hundred pounds in gold.

But gold her peerless bravery Could neither buy nor pay, And yet, content, her lonely life She liv'd from day to day.

A DREAM.

One night, while peaceful in my bed I lay, unwitting what befell, By Morpheus' arms clasped close, In blissful rest, I slumber'd well.

When suddenly, unto my ears There came a dreadful, piercing sound, So strange unto my startl'd mind, I left my bed with single bound.

And then, transfix'd unto the floor, I stood, in terror pinion'd there, With drops of sweat upon my brow, And eyes with fix'd and rigid stare.

I listen'd for the dreadful sound, Which brought such terror to my brain; And then, with wildly beating heart, I heard the fearful noise again.

Affrighted yet, I heard the noise, Which, tho' 'twas modified in tone, It terror brought unto my heart, And from my lips it drew a groan.

For horror yet was in the sound, That froze my blood, and fix'd my eye; It seem'd to me a demon's shriek, Or wailing banshee's boding cry.

But soon my eyes unfix'd their stare, My senses clearer now became, And borne unto my sharpen'd ear, I heard a sound, but not the same.

Within the plaster'd wall, near by, I heard a grinding, ringing tone-- A mouse was gnawing at a board; That was the sound, and that alone.

I waited then, and listen'd long; But naught there came unto my ear, Save this, and lying down again, I wonder'd what had caus'd my fear.

And then I thought 'tis thus with us-- We mortals, who, with darken'd sight See things, and fearful sounds do hear, Which cause our narrow senses fright.

But when we waken from this dream, With senses join'd to earth no more, Our brighten'd faculties will see No fear, where fear there was before.

THE TEMPEST STILLED.

The sky was dark with threat'ning clouds, And fiercely on the raging sea, The roaring tempest wilder swept, And fiercer rag'd old Galilee.

Deep, dark and wild the waters roll'd, And fast across the lurid sky The black clouds pa.s.s'd, as if to hide The lights of heav'n from human eye.

A little boat, from crest to crest Was lash'd about, and wildly thrown, While down below lay timid souls, Too faint to shriek, too weak to groan.

While thunders roll'd, and lightning flash'd, And fiercer onward rush'd the waves, Deep down below these mortals look'd With freighted mind, to wat'ry graves.

The helmsman held the rudder still, But unavailing his control; The blasts grew wild, and wilder yet, And louder grew the thunder's roll.

His hand grew faint, his heart grew sick, As still he saw the lightning's glare, And heard the thunders toll his doom, And voices shriek it in the air.

Air, water, heavens, all combin'd, Seem'd on the s.h.i.+p their wrath to pour, Combin'd to sink it in the tide, And keep it ever from the sh.o.r.e.

One hope was left, and only one; The Master on a pillow slept, And to him these affrighted ones, So weak of faith, in silence crept.

With gentle touch they wake the Lord, And half in hope, and half in fear, They cry, "save us, or we're lost.

O Master, Lord, wilt thou not hear?"

With gentle mien the Master rose, And to his mild, but mighty will, The thunders, winds and billows bow'd, And answer'd yes, his "peace be still."

"O, fearful ones, why do you fear?"

Then said the mighty Lord of all; "Why trust ye not, ye faithless ones, And call in faith, whene'er ye call?"

Thus, on the raging sea of life, While billows wild around us swell, Let faith in Christ our fears disperse, Let trust in Him our sorrows quell.

When bitter anguish fills our breast, And weak and trembling grows our hand, Give Christ the rudder of our s.h.i.+p, And he will bring us safe to land.

For wind, and sea, and thunder's roll, His great command at once obey, And those who trust Him, He will lead Through storm and gloom, to perfect day.

THE SCHOOL-TAUGHT YOUTH.

His step was light, and his looks as bright As the beams of the morning sun, And his boyish dreams, as the rippling streams That gently onward run, Without a shock from rugged rock To check their course of glee, As they wound their way, day after day, To their destin'd goal, the sea.

He had come from the schools brimful of rules, His head and note-book cramm'd With varied lore; from many a sh.o.r.e Pack'd solid in, e'en jamm'd.

He'd learn'd a part of many an art, Had studied mathematics, And thought he knew how people grew, In palaces or attics.

He'd scann'd the page of many a sage, And did his mind adorn With cla.s.sic sweets, and varied treats, Preserv'd ere he was born.

"And now," says he, "upon life's sea, I'll steer my bark so truly;"

"She is," he thought, "so trim and taut, She cannot prove unruly."

He look'd each morn, with cultur'd scorn On homely barks beside him, And pa.s.s'd them by right merrily, Whenever he espied them.

"O do but note how well they float,"

An aged man did say; He pa.s.s'd him by with flas.h.i.+ng eye: "I've mark'd me out my way."

"And did you see how easily Those s.h.i.+ps their helm obey'd, When in that storm your vessel's form So near the rocks was laid.

Young man so stern, you've yet to learn That sailing on life's sea Is not an art to get by heart, Just like the rule of three.

"You'll have to know this 'fleeting show,'

Tho' fleeting it may be, Requires tact to think and act, That is not known to thee."

Thus the old man said, but this youth so read In varied arts and lore, Bent not his neck, but trod the deck, And calmly look'd on sh.o.r.e.

But soon the sh.o.r.e was seen no more, The sea, so calm, got troubl'd; The billows wild, no more beguil'd, But round him boil'd and bubbl'd.

The craft it sway'd; the boy, dismay'd, Saw how she rode unsteady; The helm in vain they tug and strain, For storms she is not ready.

She pitch'd and toss'd; she's lost! she's lost!

For see the rocks beside her; Each effort's vain; she's cleft in twain, And now, O woe betide her!