And mamma has gone to her.
But the question lies unanswered
In our little Jamie's mind,
Why she should go to our mother,
And leave her children behind;
To dwell in that lovely city,
From all that was dear to part,
From children who loved to nestle
So closely around her heart.
Dear child, like you, we are puzzled,
With problems that still remain;
But think in the great hereafter
Their meaning will all be plain.
TRUTH.
A rock, for ages, stern and high,
Stood frowning 'gainst the earth and sky,
And never bowed his
haughty crest
When angry storms around him prest.
Morn, springing from the arms of night,
Had often bathed his brow with light.
TRUTH. 37
And kissed the shadows from his face
With tender love and gentle grace.
Day, pausing at the gates of rest,
Smiled on him from the distant West,
And from her
throne the dark-browed Night
Threw round his path her softest light.
And yet he stood
unmoved and proud,
Nor love, nor wrath, his spirit bowed;
He bared his brow to every blast
And scorned the
tempest as it passed.
One day a tiny,
humble seed--
The keenest eye would hardly heed--
Fell trembling at that stern rock's base,
And found a lowly hiding-place.
A ray of light, and drop of dew,
Came with a message, kind and true;
They told her of the world so bright,
Its love, its joy, and rosy light,
And lured her from her hiding-place,
To gaze upon earth's
glorious face.
So, peeping timid from the ground,
She clasped the ancient rock around,
And climbing up with
childish grace,
She held him with a close embrace;
38 DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.
Her clinging was a thing of dread;
Where'er she touched a
fissure spread,
And he who'd breasted many a storm
Stood frowning there, a mangled form;
A Truth, dropped in the silent earth,
May seem a thing of little worth,
Till, spreading round some
mighty wrong,
It saps its pillars proud and strong,
And o'er the fallen ruin weaves
The brightest blooms and fairest leaves.
DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.
'Twas a
fearful night--the
tempest raved
With loud and wrathful pride,
The storm-king harnessed his
lightning steeds,
And rode on the raging tide.
The sea-king lay on his bed of death,
Pale mourners around him bent;
They knew the wild and fitful life
Of their chief was almost spent.
His ear was growing dull in death
When the angry storm he heard,
DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING. 39
The
sluggish blood in the old man's veins
With sudden vigor stirred.
"I hear them call," cried the dying man,
His eyes grew full of light;
"Now bring me here my
warrior robes,
My sword and armor bright.
"In the
tempest's lull I heard a voice,
I knew 'twas Odin's call.
The Valkyrs are
gathering round my bed
To lead me unto his hall.
"Bear me unto my noblest ship,
Light up a
funeral pyre;
I'll walk to the palace of the braves
Through a path of flame and fire."
Oh! wild and bright was the stormy light
That flashed from the old man's eye,
As they bore him from the couch of death
To his battle-ship to die,
And lit with many a
mournful torch
The sea-king's dying bed,
And like a
banner fair and bright
The flames around him spread.
40 SAVE THE BOYS.
But they heard no cry of anguish
Break through that fiery wall,
With rigid brow and silent lips
He was seeking Odin's hall.
Through a path of
fearful splendor,
While strong men held their
breath,
The brave old man went
boldly forth
And
calmly talked with death.
SAVE THE BOYS.
Like Dives in the deeps of Hell
I cannot break this
fearful spell,
Nor
quench the fires I've madly nursed,
Nor cool this
dreadful raging thirst.
Take back your pledge--ye come too late!
Ye cannot save me from my fate,
Nor bring me back
departed joys;
But ye can try to save the boys.
Ye bid me break my fiery chain,
Arise and be a man again,
SAVE THE BOYS. 41
When every street with snares is spread,
And nets of sin where'er I tread.
No; I must reap as I did sow.
The seeds of sin bring crops of woe;
But with my latest
breath I'll crave
That ye will try the boys to save.
These bloodshot eyes were once so bright;
This sin-crushed heart was glad and light;
But by the wine-cup's ruddy glow
I traced a path to shame and woe.
A
captive to my galling chain,
I've tried to rise, but tried in vain--
The cup allures and then destroys.
Oh! from its thraldom save the boys.
Take from your streets those traps of hell
Into whose gilded snares I fell.
Oh! freemen, from these foul decoys
Arise, and vote to save the boys.
Oh, ye who license men to trade
In draughts that charm and then degrade,
Before ye hear the cry, Too late,
Oh, save the boys from my sad fate.
42 NOTHING AND SOMETHING.
NOTHING AND SOMETHING.
It is nothing to me, the beauty said,
With a
careless toss of her pretty head;
The man is weak if he can't refrain
From the cup you say is
fraught with pain.
It was something to her in after years,
When her eyes were drenched with burning
tears,
And she watched in
lonely grief and dread,
And startled to hear a staggering tread.
It is nothing to me, the mother said;
I have no fear that my boy will tread
In the
downward path of sin and shame,
And crush my heart and
darken his name.
It was something to her when that only son
From the path of right was early won,
And madly cast in the flowing bowl
A ruined body and sin-wrecked soul.
It is nothing to me, the young man cried:
In his eye was a flash of scorn and pride;
I heed not the
dreadful things ye tell:
I can rule myself I know full well.
NOTHING AND SOMETHING. 43
It was something to him when in prison he lay
The
victim of drink, life ebbing away;
And thought of his
wretched child and wife,
And the
mournful wreck of his wasted life.
It is nothing to me, the merchant said,
As over his ledger he bent his head;
I'm busy to-day with tare and tret,
And I have no time to fume and fret.
It was something to him when over the wire
A message came from a
funeral pyre--
A
drunkenconductor had wrecked a train,
And his wife and child were among the slain.
It is nothing to me, the voter said,
The party's loss is my greatest dread;
Then gave his vote for the
liquor trade,
Though hearts were crushed and drunkards
made.
It was something to him in after life,
When his daughter became a drunkard's wife
And her hungry children cried for bread,
And trembled to hear their father's tread.
Is it nothing for us to idly sleep
While the cohorts of death their vigils keep?
To gather the young and
thoughtless in,
And grind in our midst a grist of sin?
44 VASHTI.
It is something, yes, all, for us to stand
Clasping by faith our Saviour's hand;
To learn to labor, live and fight
On the side of God and changeless light.
VASHTI.
She leaned her head upon her hand
And heard the King's decree--
"My lords are feasting in my halls;
Bid Vashti come to me.
"I've shown the treasures of my house,
My
costly jewels rare,
But with the glory of her eyes
No rubies can compare.
"Adorn'd and crown'd I'd have her come,
With all her queenly grace,
And, 'mid my lords and
mighty men,
Unveil her lovely face.
"Each gem that sparkles in my crown,