A Little Book of Western Verse Part 6

VII

But there, poor dog, my faithful friend, Pay you no heed unto my sorrow; I prithee take this paltry cake,-- Who knows but we shall starve to-morrow!

VIII

Ah, who shall lead the Sunday choir As this old fiddle used to do it?

Can vintage come, with this voice dumb That used to bid a welcome to it?

IX

It soothed the weary hours of toil, It brought forgetfulness to debtors; Time and again from wretched men It struck oppression's galling fetters.

X

No man could hear its voice, and hate; It stayed the teardrop at its portal; With that dear thing I was a king As never yet was monarch mortal!

XI

Now has the foe--the vandal foe-- Struck from my hands their pride and glory; There let it lie! In vengeance, I Shall wield another weapon, gory!

XII

And if, O countrymen, I fall, Beside our grave let this be spoken: "No foe of France shall ever dance Above the heart and fiddle, broken!"

XIII

So come, poor dog, my faithful friend, I prithee do not heed my sorrow, But feast to-day while yet you may, For we are like to starve to-morrow.

THE LITTLE PEACH

A little peach in the orchard grew,-- A little peach of emerald hue; Warmed by the sun and wet by the dew, It grew.

One day, pa.s.sing that orchard through, That little peach dawned on the view Of Johnny Jones and his sister Sue-- Them two.

Up at that peach a club they threw-- Down from the stem on which it grew Fell that peach of emerald hue.

Mon Dieu!

John took a bite and Sue a chew, And then the trouble began to brew,-- Trouble the doctor couldn't subdue.

Too true!

Under the turf where the daisies grew They planted John and his sister Sue, And their little souls to the angels flew,-- Boo hoo!

What of that peach of the emerald hue, Warmed by the sun, and wet by the dew?

Ah, well, its mission on earth is through.

Adieu!

1880.

HORACE III. 13

O fountain of Bandusia, Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I'll pay The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns I have, whose crimson blood Anon shall dye and sanctify Thy cool and babbling flood.

O fountain of Bandusia, The dog-star's hateful spell No evil brings unto the springs That from thy bosom well; Here oxen, wearied by the plough, The roving cattle here, Hasten in quest of certain rest And quaff thy gracious cheer.

O fountain of Bandusia, Enn.o.bled shalt thou be, For I shall sing the joys that spring Beneath yon ilex-tree; Yes, fountain of Bandusia, Posterity shall know The cooling brooks that from thy nooks Singing and dancing go!

THE DIVINE LULLABY

I hear Thy voice, dear Lord; I hear it by the stormy sea When winter nights are black and wild, And when, affright, I call to Thee; It calms my fears and whispers me, "Sleep well, my child."

I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, In singing winds, in falling snow, The curfew chimes, the midnight bell.

"Sleep well, my child," it murmurs low; "The guardian angels come and go,-- O child, sleep well!"

I hear Thy voice, dear Lord, Ay, though the singing winds be stilled, Though hushed the tumult of the deep, My fainting heart with anguish chilled By Thy a.s.suring tone is thrilled,-- "Fear not, and sleep!"

Speak on--speak on, dear Lord!

And when the last dread night is near, With doubts and fears and terrors wild, Oh, let my soul expiring hear Only these words of heavenly cheer, "Sleep well, my child!"

IN THE FIRELIGHT

The fire upon the hearth is low, And there is stillness everywhere, While like winged spirits, here and there, The firelight shadows fluttering go.

And as the shadows round me creep, A childish treble breaks the gloom, And softly from a further room Comes, "Now I lay me down to sleep."

And somehow, with that little prayer And that sweet treble in my ears, My thoughts go back to distant years And linger with a loved one there; And as I hear my child's amen, My mother's faith comes back to me,-- Crouched at her side I seem to be, And Mother holds my hands again.

Oh, for an hour in that dear place!

Oh, for the peace of that dear time!