Lays from the West Part 19

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 pa.s.sion'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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.s'd Were one drear blank--I felt not then my woe.

Child, you have never loved, and cannot know How drear and hopeless youth itself may seem; The long, blank loveless years to wonder through, With nought, save memory of a bygone dream.

But sorrow kills not, we may laugh or weep, Still Time by stealthy gliding steals away; And Winter snows again lay white and deep, And once again they welcomed Christmas day.

I watched them with sad eyes that knew no smile, And a dull mind from which all hope had flown, A listless heart that nothing could beguile Back to the gladness that it once had known.

The dull December twilight grey and cold, Fell weird and grim upon the lonely moor; The wild wind raged o'er wintry waste and old, And in the storm a stranger sought our door.

He asked a shelter from the bitter night My father's brown cheek blanched to hear _that_ tone, He led him forward to the yule-log's light, A lost--a mourned, but now a new-found son!

Oh! sweetest welcomes on the wanderer fell!

The last of our long race--returning home; Home to the long-tired hearts that loved him well No more an exile, by strange sh.o.r.es to roam.

"Bid me not rest" he said, "until you know, I have a friend who claims his welcome now, For, but for him, the depth of Alpines snow Had been my grave, and you had lost your son."

"Then wherefore wait?" my mother gently said, "Let him come hither till I bless his name!"

And Roderick turned, and forth the stranger led And once again, I looked on Hector Graem.

No welcome-glow lit up the old man's eye, Surprise or anger seemed to hold him dumb, My mother clasped his hand with sob and sigh, But to full hearts the fewest words will come

Then Hector kissed her hand with courtly grace,-- Bowed lowly to my father, half in scorn, "Old ills" he said "are hardest to erase From hearts where grat.i.tude was never born"

But as he spoke the glistening tear drops fell From those old eyes, that seldom tear drops know.

"You here" he said "love breaks hates baleful spell, And grat.i.tude comes forth to yield her due!"

"Let feuds and errors perish with the Past,-- 'Tis thus I lay them in a deep dug-grave'"

And, beckoning me beside him, there, at last, His blessing, once refused, he fondly gave!

Ah! life is very fair, and love is sweet!

The dark sky cleared, the sun shone out again, Earth seemed a heaven, with perfect bliss replete, And new-born gladness healed the sting of pain

And standing by the window hand in hand, Hearing the storm howl o'er the wastes of snow.

We were the happiest of the happy band That merry Christmas fifty years ago!

BEGINNINGS.

At dawn sweet flushes softly creep Along the brightening sky, Pale watchers whom lone vigils keep Perceive the sign, and cry, The night is gone, the bright day comes, And gladsome light the East illumes!

Bright blossoms on the branches burst, Then Autumn fruits grow there; So, dreams that sickly hope had burst Grown real, make life fair.

And dreams we prize as holy things That haunt our path on mystic wings.

And so, across life's weary road, Made dark by many a woe, We hear the tender words of G.o.d, "Come, follow where I go!"

And listening to that gentle voice Is fixed the best and earliest choice.

First, we must pray, and watch, and wait, And bear the daily cross, And, till we reach the Master's gate, Count earthly gain as lost, Then hear, "good servant, n.o.bly done,"

By patience hath the crown been won.

IN REPLY TO "ALONE."

It is the joyous time of June, And Nature glads the smiling land Arrayed in garments gay and green Bestowed by nature's lavish hand.

Oh! soft the lullaby of streams 'Neath shadow of o'er arching trees, When all sweet, summer music seems To float around us on the breeze.

It greets us in the greenwood glades-- By forest aisles and alleys lone, Where, wandering in the twilight shades The poet calls the hour his own.

Perchance he dreams some minstrel hand, Wakes woodland harps to heavenly song, While spirits from the golden land On white wings bear the notes along.

But to thine eyes the world is grim, And life is dark through falling tears; Hath Hope's soft ray grown dull and dim And paled the brightness of your years?

I know your woe--for I have knelt Beside the new made, gra.s.sy mound-- The anguish of bereavement felt And moaned beneath the piercing wound.

Through the soft azur veil of e'en The stars look down with watching eyes, Beacons to life our souls to heaven And tell of love beyond the skies To tell, tho' earth is bright and fair, Still Heaven must be our lasting home; A land untouched by sin and care Where pain and parting never come.

Not far away; scarce out of sight, A shadowy veil, a misty cloud, Is roll'd between us and the light, From mortal eyes the bliss to shroud.