{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap. Copyright No.\\n.Shelf.XR-^^n5^\\n^RC\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.\\nno", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "EDGAR ALLAN P()E\\nThe Greatest Geniits Aiiici-ica has produicd.\\nPhotograph of bust presented to University of Virginia, and Portrait", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "Poetic Jewels\\nTHE ATHENA^MM COLLECTION\\nOF THE WORLD S CHOICEST POETRY\\nEdited by E. T. ROE\\nILLUSTRATED\\nCHICAGO\\nLaird Lee, Publishers", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "G7793\\ni.tO y f jL*f.\\nOCT 29 1900\\n\u00e2\u0082\u00ac?ci^ A V-\\nOCT 31 1900\\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year\\nnineteen hundred, by\\nWILLIAM H. LEE,\\nIn the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "PREFACE.\\nThe poems contained in this volume have not\\nbeen gathered at random. They have been care-\\nfully sought after, and selected from amongst the\\nmost admired poetry in the English language. In\\nmany instances the authors themselves have been\\nconsulted as to the selections to be made from their\\npoems, and some of the most eminent poets have\\nthemselves selected their favorite poems for this\\ncollection.\\nIt has been the aim of the editor in making up\\nthis volumxe to place in an accessible form, the\\nrarest gems of English poetry.\\nFor this cud I have risen early and sat tip\\nlate, have traveled far and near, ransacking the\\nmost faniojis libraries, and all to furnish yon this\\nviagazinc of the most excellent ertiditiony\\nE. T. R.\\nPoetic Jewels.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "LIST OF POEMS.\\nPAGE.\\nA Ballad of Athlone or, How They Broke Down\\nthe Bridge. Aubrey de Vere. 3 56\\nA Canadian Boat Song. Thomas Moore. 396\\nA Good, Great Name. Frances E. Willard. 269\\nAiry Visions. E. T, R. 45\\nA Legend of Lake Superior. Edward R. Roe. 245\\nA Legend of Transmigration. 280\\nA London Idyl. Robert Buchanan. 130\\nAlonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene. M. G.\\nLewis. 375\\nAnnabel Lee. Edgar Allan Poe. 334\\nAn Ode to the Rain. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 154\\nAntony in Arms. Robert Buchanan.\\nA Psalm of Life. Henry W Longfellow. 272\\nA Song of Praises. Edward R. Roe. 43\\nAuld Robin Gray. Lady Anne (Lindsay) Barnard. 39\\nBaby s Shoes. William C. Bennett, 99\\nBalaklava. Alexander B. Meek. 352\\nCastles in Spain. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 87\\nCivil War. Anonymous. 152\\nCleopatra. W. W. Story. 46\\nCleopatra s Soliloquy. Mary Bayard Clarke. 120\\nCome Rest in This Bosom. Thomas Moore. 171\\nCommodity. Shelley. 186\\nCuddle Doon. Alexander Anderson. ill", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "viii LIST OF POEMS\\nPAGE.\\nDead. Rev. Canon Bell. 77\\nDolores. Constance Fenimore Woolson. lOO\\nEros Athanatos. Robert Buchanan. 66\\nExcelsior. Henry W. Longfellow. _ 238\\nFather s Growing Old, John! J. Q. A. Wood. 366\\nGenesis. Edward R. Roe. 288\\nGod Knows. Benjamin F. Taylor. 30\\nHamlet and His Mother. William Shakespeare. 258\\nHelp the Poor. Victor Hugo. 203\\nHou^ Baby Came from Heaven. David Barker. 23\\nHow Good Are the Poor. Victor Hugo. 300\\nHow to Become Consequential. Anonymous. 153\\nIf That High World. Lord Byron. 108\\nItaly. William Cullen Bryant. 21\\nJune. William Cullen Bryant. 267\\nKatydid. Peter Peppercorn. -51\\nKubla Khan; or, A Vision in a Dream. Samuel\\nTaylor Coleridge. 360\\nLan|,ley Lane. Robert Buchanan. 387\\nMarcus Antonius. W.W.Story.- 31 5\\nMaster Johnny s Next-Door Neighbor. Bret Harte. 373\\nMaud and Madge; or, After the Ball. Nora Perry. 331\\nMauna Loa. Edward R. Roe. ^7~\\nMeasuring the Baby. Emma Alice Browne. 128\\nMy Heart Leaps Up. William Wordsworth. 119\\nNot Yet. William Cullen Bryant. 19\\nNow the Old Wife s Gone. Mary Frances Adams. JZ", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "LIST OF POEMS ix\\nPAGE.\\nOft in the Stilly Night. Thomas Moore. 394\\nOnly a Woman. Dinah Mariah Mulock. 84\\nOnly the Brakesman. Constance Fenimore Woolson. 348\\nOstler Joe. George R. Sims. 340\\nParting Lovers. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. t^})\\nPoetry of Ancient Burial. John Lloyd. 299\\nPovertie s Counsel. W. S. Ridpath. _ 386\\nReuben and Rose. Thomas Moore. 125\\nSleep. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 28\\nSong of the Brave. Edward R. Roe. 229\\nSong of the Miser. Anonymous. 378\\nSteeple Folk. Augusta Earned. 80\\nTruth and Falsehood. Matthew Prior. 307\\nThe Bachelor s Cane-bottomed Chair. W. M.\\nThackeray. 233\\nThe Ballad of the Shamrock. Fitz James O Brien. 167\\nThe Battle of Pelusium. John Fletcher. 393\\nThe Children s Hour. Henry W. Longfellow. 256\\nThe City of the Heart. T. Buchanan Read. 114\\nThe Coliseum. Lord Byron. 193\\nThe Conflagration. Schiller. _ 345\\nThe Cotter s Saturday Night. Robert Burns. 143\\nThe Days That Are No More. Alfred Tennyson. 359\\nThe Death of the Owd Squire. Anonymous. 180\\nThe Doncaster St. Leger. Sir Francis Hastings\\nDoyle. 308\\nThe Founding of the Bell. Charles Mackay. 242\\nThe Frogs. Edward R. Roe. 140\\nThe Frost Spirit. John Greenleaf Whittier. 271\\nThe Green Gnome. Robert Buchanan. 383", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "X LIST OF POEMS\\nPAGE.\\nThe Harp of Fionbell. H. E. Hunter. 380\\nThe Hollow Oak. E. Bulwer Lytton. 172\\nThe Ideal and the Real. Edward R. Roe. 328\\nThe Immortal Pansies. Mrs. Marietta S. Case. 395\\nThe Knight and the Lady. Richard H. Barham. 206\\nThe Lady s Dream. Thomas Hood. 35\\nThe Last Banquet. Edward Renaud. 92\\nThe Lost and Found. Hamilton Aide. 369\\nThe Maiden s Armor. Milton. _ _ 107\\nThe Naked Truth. James Russell Lowell. 52\\nThe Old Stager s Story. Edwin Coller. 157\\nThe Poor and Honest Sodger. Robert Burns. 364\\nThe Principal Rules of Oratory. Anonymous. 65\\nThe Problem of Eternity. Edward R. Roe. 117\\nThe Raven. Edgar Allan Poe. 274\\nThe Shipwreck. Anonymous. 235\\nThe Swallows. Jean Pierre Claris Florian. 252\\nThe Two Armies. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 199\\nThe Universal Prayer. Victor Hugo. 318\\nThe Victim. Alfred Tennyson. 196\\nThe Young Avenger. L. E. L. 322\\nThose Evening Bells. Thomas Moore. 395\\nThy Love Shall Lead Me. E. T. R. 337\\nTwo Lovers. George Eliot. _ _ 255\\nWaiting at the Gate. William CuUen Bryant. 24\\nWeary. Anonymous. 357\\nWilliam and Helen. Sir Walter Scott. 55\\nYe Needna be Courtin at Me. Peter Still. 1 13\\nYou Kissed Me. 338\\nYoung Man, Be Wise. John Stuart Blackie. 362", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "LIST OF AUTHORS.\\nPAGE.\\nAdams, Mary Frances, 73\\nAide, Hamilton, 369\\nAnderson, Alexander, iii\\nAnonymous, 65, 152, 153. 180, 235,328,338,357,378\\nBarham, Richard H.,\\n206\\nBarker, David, _\\n23\\nBarnard, Lady Anne (Lindsay),\\n39\\nBell, Rev. Canon,\\n71\\nBennett, W. C,\\n99\\nBlackie, John Stuart,\\n362\\nBrown, Emma Alice,\\n129\\nBrowning, Elizabeth Barrett,\\n29, 33\\nBryant, William Cullen,\\n19, 21, 24, 267\\nBuchanan, Robert,\\n6G, 130, 326, 383, 387\\nBurns, Robert,\\n143, 364\\nByron, Lord,\\n108, 193\\nCase, Mrs. Marietta S.,\\n395\\nClark, Mary Bayard,\\n120\\nColeridge, Samuel Taylor,\\n154, 360\\nColler, Edwin, _ _\\n157\\nDeVere, Aubrey,\\n355\\nDoyle, Sir Francis Hastings,\\n308\\nE.T.R., 45,337", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "xii LIST OF A UTHORS\\nPAGE.\\nFletcher, John, 393\\nFlorian, Jean Pierre Claris, 252\\nHarte, Bret, 373\\nHohnes, Oh ver Wendell, _ 199\\nHood, Thomas, -------35\\nHugo, Victor, 203,300,318\\nHunter, H. E., 380\\nL. E. L., 322\\nEarned, Augusta,- _---.. 80\\nLewis, M. G., 375\\nLloyd, John, .-..-_- 299\\nLongfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 87, 238, 255, 272\\nLowell, James Russell, 52\\nLytton, E. Bulwer, 172\\nMackay, Charles, 242\\nMeek, Alexander, 352\\nMilton John, 107\\nMoore Thomas, 125, 171, 394, 395, 39^\\nMulock, Dinah Mariah, 84\\nO Brien, Fitz James, 167\\nPeppercorn, Peter, -5i\\nPerry, Nora, 33 1\\nPoe, Edgar Allan, 274,334\\nPrior, Matthew, 307\\nRead, T. Buchanan, -114\\nRenaud, Edward, -92\\nRidpath, W. S., 386\\nRoe, Edward R., 43. ii7, HO, 172, 229, 245, 280, 288", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "LIST OF A UTHORS\\nxiu\\nSchiller, _ _\\nScott, Sir Walter,\\nShakespeare, _ _ _\\nShelley, _\\nSims, Geo. R.,\\nStill, Peter,\\nStory, W.W.,\\nTaylor, Benjamin F.\\nTennyson, Lord,\\nThackeray, W. M.,\\nWhittier, John G.,\\nWillard, Frances E.,\\nWood, J. Q. A.,\\nWoolson, Constance Fenimore,\\nWordsworth, William,\\n346\\n55\\n258\\n186\\n340\\n113\\n46, 315\\n30\\n196, 359\\n233\\n271\\n269\\n366\\n100, 348\\n119", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "i^l /L^ ^Ut- iJc.cL*LouuJ U^UA it t,e^ Juja^^\\nO/C*-**^ CvtrZ/fct^ ^-M/ni^ tcr{u\u00c2\u00a3 U^ }tuiM.Lf yiuJ/^-4 ^i^", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "NOT YET.\\nH country, marvel of the earth!\\nOh realm to sudden greatness grown!\\nThe age that gloried in thy birth,\\nShall it behold thee overthrown?\\nShall traitors lay that greatness lo vv?\\nNo, land of Hope and Blessing, No!\\nAnd we, who wear thy glorious name,\\nShall we, like cravens, stand apart.\\nWhen those whom thou hast trusted aim\\nThe death-blow at thy generous heart?\\nForth goes the battle-cry, and lo!\\nHosts rise in harness, shouting. No.\\nAnd they who founded in our land.\\nThe power that rules from sea to sea.\\nBled they in vain, or vainly planned\\nTo leave their country great or free?\\nTheir sleeping ashes, from below.\\nSend up the thrilling murmur. No!\\nKnit they the gentle ties which long\\nThese sister States were proud to wear.\\nAnd forged the kindly links so strong\\nFor idle hands in sport to tear?\\nFor scornful hands aside lo throw?\\nNo, by our fathers memory. No!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "20 POETIC JE WELS\\nOur humming marts, our iron ways,\\nOur wind-tossed woods on mountain crest,\\nThe hoarse Atlantic, with its bays.\\nThe calm, broad ocean of the West,\\nAnd Mississippi s torrent-flow.\\nThe loud Niagara, answer. No!\\nNot yet the hour is nigh when they\\nWho deep in Eld s dim twilight sit,\\nEarth s ancient kings, shall rise and say,\\nProud country, welcome to the pit!\\nSo soon art thou, like us, brought low!\\nNo, sullen group of shadows. No!\\nFor now, behold the arm that gave\\nThe victory in our fathers day.\\nStrong, as of old, to guard and save\\nThat mighty arm which none can stay\\nOn clouds above and fields below.\\nWrites, in men s sight, the answer, No?\\nWilliam Ciillen Bryant", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 21\\nITALY.\\nOICES from the mountains speak;\\nApennines to Alps reply;\\nVale to vale and peak to peak\\nToss an old remembered cry;\\nItaly\\nShall be free;\\nSuch the mighty shout that fills\\nAll the passes of hec hills.\\nAll the old Italian lakes\\nQuiver at that quickening word;\\nComo with a thrill awakes;\\nGarda to her depths is stirred;\\nMid the steeps\\nWhere he sleeps,\\nDreaming of the elder years,\\nStartled Thrasymenus hears.\\nSweeping Arno, swelling Po,\\nMurmur freedom to their meads.\\nTiber swift and Liris slow\\nSend strange whispers from their reeds,\\nItaly\\nShall be free,\\nSing the glittering brooks that slide.\\nToward the sea, from Etna s side.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nMonarchs! ye whose armies stand\\nHarnessed for the battle-field!\\nPause, and from the Hfted hand\\nDrop the bolts of war ye wield.\\nStand aloof\\nWhile the proof\\nOf the people s might is given;\\nLeave their kings to them and Heaven\\nLong ago was Gracchus slain;\\nBrutus perished long ago;\\nYet the living roots remain\\nWhence the shoots of greatness grow.\\nYet again,\\nGod-like men,\\nSprung from that heroic stem,\\nCall the land to rise with them.\\nThey who haunt the swarming street.\\nThey who chase the mountain boar.\\nOr where cliff and billow meet,\\nPrune the vine or pull the oar,\\nWith a stroke\\nBreak their yoke;\\nSlaves but yestereve were they^\\nFreemen with the dawning day.\\nLooking in his children s eyes.\\nWhile his own with gladness flash,\\nThese, the Umbrian father cries,\\nNe er shall crouch beneath the lash!\\nThese shall ne er\\nBrook to wear", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 23\\nChains whose cruel links are twined\\nRound the crushed and withering mind.\\nStand aloof, and see the oppressed\\nChase the oppressor, pale with fear,\\nAs the fresh winds of the west\\nBlow the misty valleys clear.\\nStand and see\\nItaly\\nCast the gyves she wears no more\\nTo the gulfs that steep her shore.\\nWm. Cullen Bryant.\\nHOW BABY CAME FROM HEAVEN.\\nOne night, as old Saint Peter slept,\\nHe left the door of Heaven ajar\\nWhen through a little angel crept,\\nAnd came down with a falling star.\\nOne summer, as the blessed beams\\nOf morn approached, my blushing bride\\nAwakened from some pleasing dreams.\\nAnd found that angel by her side.\\nGod grant but this I ask no more\\nThat when he leaves this world ot sin,\\nHe ll wing his way to that blest shore,\\nAnd find the door of Heaven again.\\nDavid Barker.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "2i POETIC JEWELS\\nWAITING BY THE GATE.\\nI ^ESIDE a massive gateway, built up in years\\ngone by,\\nx^^fUpon whose top the clouds in eternal shadow lie,\\nWhile streams the evening sunshine on quiet\\nwood and lea,\\nI stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me.\\nThe tree-tops faintly rustle beneath the breeze s flight,\\nA soft and soothing sound, yet it whispers of the night;\\nI hear the woodthrusll piping one mellow descant more,\\nAnd scent the flowers that blow when the heat of day\\nis o er.\\nBehold the portals open, and o er the threshold now\\nThere steps a weary one with a pale and furrowed brow;\\nHis count of years is full, his allotted task is wrought;\\nHe passes to his rest from a place that needs him not.\\nIn sadness then I ponder how quickly fleets the hour\\nOf human strength and action, man s courage and his\\npower.\\nI muse while still the woodthrush sings down the golden\\nday.\\nAnd as I look and listen the sadness wears away.\\nAgain the hinges turn, and a youth, departing, throws\\nA longing look backward, and sorrowfully goes;\\nA blooming maid, unbinding the roses from her hair.\\nMoves mournfully away from amidst the young and fair.\\nOh glory of our race that so suddenly decays!\\nOh crimson flush of morning that darkens as we gaze!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 27\\nOil breath of suiimer blossoms that on the restless air\\nScatters a moment s sweetness and flies we know not where.\\nI grieve for life s bright promise, just shown and then\\nwithdrawn;\\nBut still the sun shines round me: the evening birds sing\\non,\\nAnd I again am soothed, and, beside the ancient gate,\\nIn this soft evening sunlight, I calmly stand and wait.\\nOnce more the gates are opened; an infant group go out,\\nThe sweet smile quenched forever, and stilled the sprightly\\nshout.\\nOh frail, frail tree of Life, that upon the greensward\\nstrows\\nIts fair young buds unopened, with every wind that blows!\\nSo come from every region, so enter, side by side,\\nThe strong and faint of spirit, the meek and men of pride.\\nSteps of earth s great and mighty, between those pillars\\nAnd prints of little feet, mark the dust along the way.\\nAnd some approach the threshold whose looks are blank\\nwith fear,\\nAnd some whose temples brighten with joy in drawing\\nnear.\\nAs if they saw dear faces, and caught the gracious eye\\nOf Him, the sinless Teacher, who came for us to die.\\nI mark the joy, the terror; yet these, within my heart,\\nCan neither wake the dread nor the longing to depart\\nAnd, in the sunshine streaming on quiet wood and lea,\\nI stand and calmly wait till the hinges turn for me.\\nWilliam Cull en BrytDit.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "28 POETIC JEWELS\\nSLEEP.\\nF all the thoughts of God that are\\norne inward unto souls afar,\\nmong the Psalmist s music deep,\\nNow tell me if that any is\\nFor gift or grace surpassing this:\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep\\nWhat would we give to our beloved?\\nThe hero s heart, to be unmoved;\\nThe poet s star-tuned harp, to sweep;\\nThe patriot s voice, to teach and rouse;\\nThe monarch s crown, to light the brows?\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep.\\nWhat do we give to our beloved?\\nA little faith, all undisproved;\\nA little dust, to over weep;\\nAnd bitter memories, to make\\nThe whole earth blasted for our sake.\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep.\\nSleep soft, beloved we sometimes say,\\nBut have no tune to charm away\\nSad dreams that through the eyelids creep;\\nBut never doleful dream again\\nShall break the happy slumber when\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 29\\nO earth, so full of dreary noise!\\nO men, with wailing in your voice!\\nO delved gold the wallers heap!\\nO strife, O curse, that o er it fall\\nGod strikes a silence through you all.\\nAnd giveth his beloved sleep.\\nHis dews drop mutely on the hill.\\nHis cloud above it saileth still.\\nThough on its slope men sow and reap;\\nMore softly than the dew is shed.\\nOr cloud is floated overhead,\\nHe giveth his beloved sleep.\\nFor me, my heart, that erst did go\\nMost like a tired child at a show.\\nThat sees through tears the mummers leap,\\nWould now its wearied vision close.\\nWould childlike on His love repose,\\nWho giveth his beloved sleep.\\nElizabeth Barrett Brozvnimr.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "30 POETIC JEWELS\\nGOD KNOWS.\\n[Ax emigrant ship recently foundered in a storm, and of the 220 who went\\ndown, only one a little child drifted ashore. When the waif was laid at\\nrest from her troubled baptism, somebody asked the question, What name\\nand the reply was, God knows. A gentleman present, touched by the words,\\ncause 1 a headstone to be erected bearing only this God K.vows.\\nI.\\n^l^^i^js^N emigrant ship with a workl aboard\\n1^ No tatter of bunting at half-mast lowered,\\nWent down by the head on the Kentish coast,\\nvhi^xjl No cannon to toll for the creatures lost.\\nTwo hundred and twenty their souls let slip.\\nTwo hundred and twenty, with speechless lip,\\nWent staggering down in the foundered ship!\\nII.\\nNobody can tell it not you nor I,\\nThe frenzy of fright when lightning thought\\nWove like a shuttle the far and the nigh,\\nShot quivering gleams through the long forgot.\\nAnd lighted the years with a ghastly glare,\\nsecond a year, and a second to spare!\\nMid surges of water and gasps of prayer.\\nIII.\\nThe heavens were doom, and the Lord was dumb,\\nThe cloud and the breaker were blent in one.\\nNo angel in sight not any to come!\\nGod pardon their sins for the Christ His Son!\\nThe tempest died down a3 the tempest will,\\nThe sea in a rivulet drowse lay still,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nAs tame as the moon on the window-sill,\\nThe roses were red on the rugged hill\\nThe roses that blow in the early light,\\nAnd die into gray in the mists of night.\\nIV.\\nThen drifted ashore, in a night-gown dressed,\\nA waif of a girl with her sanded hair,\\nAnd hands like a prayer on her cold blue breast,\\nAnd a smile on her mouth that was not despair.\\nNo stitch on the garment ever to tell\\nWho bore her, who lost her, who loved her well.\\nUnnamed as a rose was it Norah or Nell?\\nV.\\nThe coasters and wreckers around her stood\\nAnd gazed on the treasure-trove upward cast,\\nAs round a dead robin the sturdy wood,\\nIts plumage all rent and the whirlwind past.\\nThey laid a white cross on her home-made vest.\\nThe coffin was rude as a red-breast s nest,\\nAnd poor was the shroud, but a perfect rest\\nFell down on the child like dew on the West.\\nVI.\\nA ripple of sod just covered her over.\\nNobody to bid her Good-night, my bird!\\nSpring waited to weave a quilt of red clover,\\nNobody alive had her pet name heard.\\nWhat name? asked the preacher. GodKnowsI\\nthey said.\\nNor waited nor wept as they made her bed.\\nBut sculptured GOD Knows! on the slate at her\\nhead.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "32\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nVII.\\nThe legend be ours when the night runs wild,\\nThe road out of sight and the stars gone home,\\nLost hope or lost heart, lost Pleiad or child,\\nRemember the words at the nameless tomb!\\nBewildered and blind the soul finds repose.\\nWhether cypress or laurel blossoms and blows,\\nWhatever betides, for the good GOD Kxows!\\nGod knows all the while, our blindness His sight,\\nOur darkness His day, our weakness His might!\\nBenjamin F. Taylor.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 33\\nPARTING LOVERS.\\nLOVE thee, love thee, GiuHo!\\nSome call me cold, and some demure,\\nAnd if thou hast ever guessed that so\\nI love thee well the proof was poor,\\nAnd no one could be sure.\\nMy mother, listening to my sleep.\\nHeard nothing but a sigh at night\\nThe short sigh rippling on the deep-\\nWhen hearts run out of breath and sight\\nOf men, to God s clear light.\\nWhen others named thee thought thy brows\\nWere straight, thy smile was tender Here\\nHe comes between the vineyard-rows.^\\nI said not Ay, nor waited, dear.\\nTo feel thee step too near.\\nI left such things to bolder girls,\\nOlivia or Clotilda. Nay,\\nWhen that Clotilda, through her curls.\\nHeld both thine eyes in hers one day,\\nI marveled, let me say.\\nI could not try the woman s trick:\\nBetween us straightway fell the blush\\nWhich kept me separate, blind and sick.\\nA wind came with thee in a flush.\\nAs blown through Horeb s bush.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "34 POETIC JEWELS\\nBut now that Italy invokes\\nHer young men to go forth and chase\\nThe foe or perish nothing chokes\\nMy voice, or drives me from the place:\\nI look thee in the face.\\nHove thee! it is understood,\\nConfest: I do not shrink or start;\\nNo blushes: all my body s blood\\nHas gone to greaten this poor heart,\\nThat, loving, we may part.\\nOur Italy invokes the youth\\nTo die if need be. Still there s room,\\nThough earth is strained with dead, in truth.\\nSince twice the lilies were in bloom\\nThey have not grudged a tomb.\\nAnd many a plighted maid and wife\\nAnd mother, who can say since then\\nMy country, cannot say through life\\nMy son, my spouse, my flower of men.\\nAnd not weep dumb again.\\nHeroic males the country bears,\\nBut daughters give up more than sons.\\nFlags wav^, drums beat, and unawares\\nYou flash your souls out with the guns,\\nAnd take your heaven at once!\\nBut %ve we empty heart and home\\nOf life s life, love! we bear to think\\nYou re gone to feel you may not come--\\nTo hear the door-latch stir and clink\\nYet no more you nor sink.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nDear God! when Italy is one,\\nAnd perfected from bound to bound\\nScppose (for my share) earth s undone\\nBy one grave in t! as one small wound\\nMay kill a man, tis found.\\nWhat then? If love s delight must end,\\nAt least we ll clear its truth from flaws.\\nI love thee, love thee, sweetest friend!\\nNow take my sweetest without pause,\\nTo help the nation s cause.\\nAnd thus of noble Italy\\nWe ll both be worthy. Let her show\\nThe future how we made her free,\\nNot sparing life, nor Giulio,\\nNor this this heart-break. Go!\\nElizabeth Barrett BrowiiuJ^\\nTHE LADY S DREAM.\\n^^^^^i^HE lady lay in her bed,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^^-ili^ Her couch so warm and soft,\\nU^^ Bi^it her sleep was restless and broken still\\nFor, turning often and oft\\nFrom side to side, she muttered and moanea,\\nAnd tossed her arms aloft.\\nAt last she started up,\\nAnd gazed on the vacant air,\\nWith a look of awe, as if she saw\\nSome dreadful phantom there\\nAnd then in the pillow she buried her ih.ci:.\\nFrom visions ill to bear.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "30 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe very curtain shook,\\nHer terror was so extreme;\\nAnd the light that fell on the broidered quilt\\nKept a tremulous gleam;\\nAnd her voice was hollow, and shook as she cried\\nO, me! that awful dream!\\nThat weary, weary walk,\\nIn the church-yard s dismal ground!\\nAnd those horrible things, with shady wings;\\nThat came and flitted round\\nDeath, death, and nothing but death,\\nIn every sight and sound!\\nAnd, O! those maidens young\\nWho wrought in that dreary room,\\nWith figures drooping and specters thin,\\nAnd cheeks without a bloom\\nAnd the voice that cried, For the pomp of pride,\\nWe haste to an early tomb!\\nFor the pomp and pleasure of pride.\\nWe toil like Afric slaves,\\nAnd only to earn a home at last\\nWhere yonder cypress waves;\\nAnd then they pointed I never saw\\nA ground so full of graves!\\nAnd still the coffins came.\\nWith their sorrowful trains and slow;\\nCoffin after coffin still,\\nA sad and sickening show;\\nFrom grief exempt, I never had dreamt\\nOf such a world of woe!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 37\\nor the hearts that daily break,\\nor the tears that hourly fall,\\nOf the many, many troubles of life,\\nThat grieve this earthly ball\\nDisease, and Hunger, and Pain, and Want\\nBut now I dreamt of them all!\\nFor the blind and the cripple were there,\\nAnd the babe that pined for bread.\\nAnd the houseless man, and the widow poor\\nWho begged to bury the dead;\\nThe naked, alas! that I might have clad,\\nThe famished I might have fed!\\nThe sorrow I might have soothed.\\nAnd the unregarded tears;\\nFor many a thronging shape was there,\\nFrom long-forgotten years\\nAy, even the poor rejected Moor,\\nWho raised my childish fears\\nEach pleading look, that long ago,\\nI scanned with a heedless eye, i\\nEach face was gazing as plainly there\\nAs when I passed it by;\\nWoe, woe for me, if the past should be\\nThus present when I die!\\nNo need of sulphureous lake,\\nNo need of fiery coal.\\nBut only that crowd of human kind\\nWho wanted pity and dole\\nIn everlasting retrospect\\nWill wring my sinful soul!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "38 POETTC JEWELS\\nAlas! I have walked through life\\nToo heedless where I trod;\\nNay, helping to trample my fellow-worm,\\nAnd fill the burial sod\\nForgetting that even the sparrow falls\\nNot unmarked of God!\\nI drank the richest draughts,\\nAnd ate whatever is good\\nFish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit,\\nSupplied my hungry mood;\\nBut I never remembered the wretched ones\\nThat starve for want of food!\\nI dressed as the noble dress,\\nIn cloth of silver and gold,\\nWith silk, and satin, and costly furs.\\nIn many an ample fold;\\nBut I never remembered the naked limbs\\nThat froze with winter s cold.\\nThe wounds I might have healed!\\nThe human sorrow and smart!\\nAnd yet it was never in my soul\\nTo play so ill a part;\\nBut evil is wrought by want of thought.\\nAs well as want of heart!\\nShe clasped her fervent hands,\\nAnd the tears began to stream;\\nLarge, and bitter, and fast they fell.\\nRemorse was so extreme;\\nAnd yet, O yet, that many a dame\\nWould dream the Lady s Dream!\\nThomas Hood.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 39\\nAULD ROBIN GRAY.\\n[This touching little ballad has received many tributes of commendation\\nfrom eminent l)ards and critics. Sir Walter Scott wrote: Auld Robin Gray\\nis the real pastoral which is worth all the dialogues which Coridon and Phillis\\nhave had together, from the days of Theocritus downwards; and Leigh Hunt\\nsaid of it, It has suffused more eyes with tears of the first water than any other\\nballad that ever was written. For a long time the poem was of unknown\\nauthorship, and so general was the interest exhibited regarding it that its author\\nwas advertised for in the public press, a reward being offered for the discovery.\\nThe first part of the ballad has appeared in several works on elocution,\\nbut it is believed that the piece is now printed entire for the first time in this\\ncountry.]\\nI.\\nIj^^^HEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye s\\ncome hame,\\niAnd a the warld to rest are gane,\\nThe waes o my heart fa in showers frae my e e,\\nUnkent by my gudeman, who sleeps sound by me.\\nYoung Jamie lo ed me weel, and he sought me for his\\nbride,\\nBut saving a crown-piece, he had naething beside;\\nTo make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea,\\nAnd the crown and the pound they were baith for me.\\nHe hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day,\\nWhen my father broke his arm, and the cow was stown\\naway\\nMy mither she fell sick my Jamie at the sea;\\nAnd auld Robin Gray came a-courting me.\\nMy father couldna work, and my mither couldna spin;\\nI toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win;\\nAuld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi tears in his\\ne e.\\nSaid, Jeanie, oh, for their sakes, will ye no marry mc?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "40 POETIC JEWELS\\nMy heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back;\\nBut hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack;\\nThe ship was a wrack why didna Jamie dee?\\nOr wliy am I spared to cry, Wae is me?\\nMy father urged me sair my mither didna speak;\\nBut she looked in my face till my heart was like to break;\\nThey gied him my hand my heart was in the sea\\nAnd so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.\\nI hadna been his wife a week but only four,\\nWhen, mournfo as I sat on the stane at my door,\\nI saw my Jamie s ghaist, for I couldna think it he,\\nTill he said, I m came hame, love, to marry thee.\\nOh, sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a\\nI gied liim a kiss, and bade him gang awa\\nI wish that I were dead, but I m wae like to dee;\\nFor though my heart is broken, I m but young, wae is me.\\nI gang like a ghaist, and carena much to spin;\\nI darena think o Jamie, for that wad be a sin;\\nBut I ll do my best a gude wife to be,\\nFor oh, Robin Gray, he is kind to me.\\nII.\\nThe spring had passed over, twas summer nae mair.\\nAnd, trembling, were scattered the leaves in the air.\\nOh, winter, cried Jeanie, we kindly agree,\\nFor wae looks the sun when he shines upon me.\\nNae longer she wept, her tears were a spent\\nDespair it was come, and she thought it content;\\nShe thought it content, but her cheek was grown pale,\\nAnd she drooped like a snow-drop broke down by the hail.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 41\\nHer father was sad, and her mother was wae,\\nBut silent and thoughtfu was auld Robin Gray;\\nHe wandered his lane, and his face was as lean\\nAs the side of a brae where the torrents have been.\\nHe gaed to his bed, but nae physic would take,\\nAnd often he said, It is best, for her sake\\nWhile Jeanie supported his head as he lay,\\nThe tears trickled down upon auld Robin Gray.\\nOh, greet nae mair, Jeanie said he, wi a groan;\\nI m nae worth your sorrow the truth maun be known;\\nSend round fur your neebors my hour it draws near,\\nAnd I ve that to tell that it s fit a should hear:\\nI ve wranged her, he said, but I kent it o er late;\\nI ve wranged her, and sorrow is speeding my date;\\nBut a s for the best, since my death will soon free\\nA faithfu young heart, that was ill-matched wi me.\\nI lo ed and I courted her mony a day,\\nThe auld folks were for me, but still she said nay;\\nI kentna o Jeanie, nor yet o her vow\\nIn mercy forgi e me, twas I stole the cow!\\nI cared not for crummie, I thought but o thee;\\nI thought it was crummie stood twixt you and me;\\nWhile she fed }^our parents, oh! did you not say,\\nYou never would marry wi auld Robin Gray?\\nBut sickness at hame, and want at the door\\nYou gi ed me your hand, while your heart it was sore;\\nI saw it was sore, why took I her hand?\\nOh, that was a deed to my shame o er the land!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "i2\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nNow truth, soon or late, comes to open daylight!\\nFor Jamie cam back, and your cheek it grew white;\\nWhite, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me-\\nOh, Jeanie, I m thankfu I m thankfu to dee!\\nIs Jamie came here yet? and Jamie he saw;\\nI ve injured you sair, lad, so I leave you my a\\nBe kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be\\nWaste no time, my dauties, in mournin for me.\\nThey kissed his cauld hands, and a smile o er his face\\nSeemed hopefu of being accepted by grace\\nOh, doubtna, said Jamie, forgi en he will be,\\nWha wauldna be tempted, by love, to win thee\\nThe first days were dowie, while time slipt awa\\nBut saddest and sairiest to Jeanie of a\\nWas thinking she couldna be honest and right,\\nWi tears in her e e, while her heart was sae light.\\nBut nac guil^ had she, and her sorrow away,\\nThe wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay;\\nA bonnie wee bairn the auld folks by the fire\\nOh. now she has a that her heart can desire!\\nLady Anne {Lindsay) Barnard,\\nScotland, 1750-1825.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 43\\nA SONG OF PRAISES.\\nr^ SPIRIT haunted me long years ago,\\nAnd played his fairy pranks with thought and\\nfeeling;\\nThrough the rosy light s bewitching glow,\\nI saw all things were beautiful, and kneeling\\nAt the shrine of Beauty, I adored\\nThe world so full of loveliness and gladness.\\nA few short years of youth sometimes afford\\nSad change! I had my change of sadness.\\nThen all things took the same sad hue.\\nWhile yet the spirit haunted me a season,\\nStill discoloring the Beautiful and True,\\nTill I awoke from poetry to reason.\\nThen years went by in prose, so true, so real,\\nThat the spirit moved my song no more.\\nAnd I had wandered from the false Ideal;\\nAnd my dreamy days of life were o er.\\nWhen yet once more my spirit claimed my measure,\\nWaking me to other songs than those\\nI sung in early years of youth and pleasure;\\nUnto God my new-waked song arose!\\nPraise to the God of Beauty!\\nFor the lily, and the race of flowers.\\nFor the forest and its monarch trees,\\nFor the tangled brake and shady bowers.\\nFor all their warbling birds and humming bees,\\nFor the dew-drop and the radiant cloud,\\nFor the rainbow and the gentle rain.\\nFor summer s mantle and for winter s shroud", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "44 POETIC JEWELS\\nFor all that s beautiful on hill or plain,\\nWe praise thee, God of Beauty.\\nFor the surges of the rolling ocean,\\nFor the rivers and their tumbling tide.\\nFor the thunder s roar and lightning s motion;\\nFor the mountain s and the glacier s slide.\\nFor the boreal and the austral ices,\\nFor the lava from the crater s fire,\\nFor Day, when all his gorgeousness entices,\\nFor starry Night, with all her bright attire,\\nWe praise thee, God of Grandeur.\\nFor all the joys of Home s endearing altar.\\nFor parents, children, brothers, sisters, all!\\nFor the tried and true fast friends who never falter.\\nFor all who minister at mourning s call,\\nFor succor, and for sympathizing sorrow.\\nFor love, hope, memory, hours of joy and gladness.\\nWe praise thee, God of Love.\\nThou who didst make earth, air, and everything that is,\\nSun, moon and stars the universe is His,\\nPraise to the God, Jehovah.\\nThou who didst limit the illimitable void,\\nAnd plant the boundaries of time and space,\\nThou who didst make all things to be enjoyed,\\nO may we feel the glory of thy grace.\\nO God of light and love.\\nFor the earth, the air, the ocean,\\nWe offer thee devotion.\\nThou God above.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 45\\nFor our bodies, for our spirit,\\nFor the life that we inherit,\\nFor existence and salvation,\\nWe offer adoration,\\nNow and forever.\\nTo the glorious giver,\\nGod. Edward R. Rce.\\nAIRY VISIONS.\\nI WATCHED a summer cloud dissolve\\nIt brought no rain;\\nBut like my simple heart s resolve,\\nTwas formed in vain.\\nFloating in its azure sea\\nWith gold it gleamed,\\nAnd rather than a cloud to me\\nA boat it seemed\\nA far off phantom fairy sail.\\nBut growing near\\nOh, in that azure calm how frail!\\nTo disappear.\\nAcross my soul s calm sea there floats\\nA golden dream,\\nAll bright and fair as cloudlet boats\\nIn azure gleam.\\nTis far away and hard to solve\\nBut why my fear?\\nDo all things bright and fair dis..ol/e\\nIn growing near?\\nE. T. R", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "m POETIC JE WELS\\nCLEOPATRA.\\nERE, Charmion, take my bracelets-^\\nTliey bar with a purple stain\\nMy arms; turn over my pillows\\nThey are hot where I have lain;\\nOpen the lattice wider,\\nA gauze on my bosom throw,\\nAnd let me inhale the odors\\nThat over the garden blow.\\nI dreamed I was with my Antony,\\nAnd in his arms I lay;\\nAh, me! the vision has vanished\\nIts music has died away;\\nThe flame and the perfume have perished,\\nAs this spiced aromatic pastille.\\nThat wound the blue smoke of its odor,\\nIs now but an ashy hill.\\nScatter upon me rose leaves,\\nThey cool me after my sleep.\\nAnd with sandal odors fan me\\nTill into my veins they creep;\\nReach down the lute, and play me\\nA melancholy tune,\\nTo rhyme with the dream that has vanish d,\\nAnd the slumbering afternoon.\\nThere, drowsing in golden sunlight,\\nLoiters the slow, smooth Nile,\\nThrough slender papyri, that cover\\nThe sleeping crocodile.\\nThe lotus rolls on the water,\\nAnd opens its heart of gold.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "POETIC JK WELS 47\\nAnd over its broad leaf pavement\\nNever a ripple is rolled.\\nThe twilight breeze is too lazy\\nThose feathery palms to wave,\\nAnd yon little cloud is as motionless\\nAs stone above a grave.\\nAh me! this lifeless nature\\nOppresses my heart and brain!\\nOh! for a storm and thunder\\nFor lightning and wild, fierce rain!\\nFling down that lute I hate it!\\nTake rather this buckler and sword,\\nAnd crash and clash them together\\nTill this sleeping world is stirred!\\nHark! to my Indian beauty\\nMy cockatoo, creamy white.\\nWith roses under his feathers,\\nThat flash across the light.\\nLook! listen! as backward and forward\\nTo his hoop of gold he clings,\\nHow he climbs with crest uplifted,\\nAnd shrieks as he madly swings!\\nO cockatoo, shriek for Antony!\\nCry, Come, my love, come home!\\nShriek, Antony! Antony! Antony!\\nTill he hears you even in Rome.\\nThere leav^e me, and take from my ciiamber\\nThat wretched little gazelle,\\nWith its bright black eyes so meaningless,\\nAnd its silly tinkling bell!\\nTake him my nerves he vexes\\nThe thing without blood or brain", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "i8 POETIC JEWELS\\nOr, by the body of Isis,\\nI ll snap his thin neck in twain!\\nLeave me to gaze at the landscape\\nMistily stretching away,\\nWhen the afternoon s opaline tremors\\nO er the mountains quivering play,\\nTill the fiercer splendor of sunset\\nPours from the West its fire\\nAnd melted, as in a crucible,\\nTheir earthly forms expire;\\nAnd the bald, blear skull of the desert\\nWith glowing mountains is crowned,\\nThat, turning like molten jewels,\\nCircle its temples round.\\nI will lie and dream of the past time,\\n/Eons of thought away.\\nAnd through the jungle of memory\\nLoosen my fancy to play;\\nWhen, a smooth and velvety tiger.\\nRibbed with yellow and black.\\nSupple and cushioned-footed,\\nI wandered, where never the track\\nOf a human creature had rustled\\nThe silence of mighty woods.\\nAnd fierce in a tyrannous freedom,\\nI knew but the law of my moods;\\nThe elephant, trumpeting, started\\nWhen he heard my footsteps near.\\nAnd the spotted girafTe fled wildly\\nIn a yellow cloud of fear.\\nI sucked in the noontide splendor,\\nQuivering along the glade.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 49\\nOr yawning, panting, and dreaming,\\nBasked in the tamarisk shade,\\nTill I heard my wild mate roaring.\\nAs the shadows of night came on.\\nTo brood in the trees thick branches,\\nAnd the shadow of sleep was gone;\\nThen I roused and roared in answer,\\nAnd unsheathed from my cushioned iQer\\nMy curving claws, and stretched me,\\nAnd wandered my mate to greet.\\nWe toyed in the amber moonlight.\\nUpon the warm, flat sand.\\nAnd struck at each other our massive arms\\nHow powerful he was and grand!\\nHis yellow eyes flashed fiercely\\nAs he crouched and gazed at me.\\nAnd his quivering tail, like a serpent,\\nTwitched, curving nervously;\\nThen like a storm he seized me.\\nWith a wild, triumphant cry.\\nAnd we met, as two clouds in heaven\\nWhen the thunders before them fly.\\nWe grappled and struggled together.\\nFor his love, like his rage, was rude;\\nAnd his teeth in the swelling folds of my neck\\nAt times, in our play, drew blood.\\nOften another suitor\\nFor I was flexile and fair\\nFought for me in the moonlight.\\nWhile I lay crouching there,\\nTill his blood was drain d by the desert;\\nAnd, ruffled with triumph and power,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "tjo poetic jewels\\nHe licked me, and lay beside me\\nTo breathe him a vast half-hour.\\nThen down to the fountain we loitered,\\nWhere the antelopes came to drink\\nLike a bolt we sprang upon them,\\nEre they had time to shrink.\\nWe drank their blood and crushed them,\\nAnd tore them hmb from limb,\\nAnd the hungriest lion doubted\\nEre he disputed with him.\\nThat was a life to live for!\\nNot this weak human life,\\nWith its frivolous, bloodless passions,\\nIts poor and petty strife!\\nCome to my arms, my hero;\\nThe shadows of twilight grow,\\nAnd the tiger s ancient fierceness\\nIn my veins begins to flow.\\nCome not cringing to sue me!\\nTake me with triumph and power,\\nAs a warrior that storms a fortress!\\nI will not shrink nor cower.\\nCome as you came in the desert,\\nEre we were women and men,\\nWh^n the tiger passions were in us,\\nAnd love as you loved me then!\\nBf W. IV. Story,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 51\\nKATYDID.\\nI^-^^^^ ^^^ULTRY was the summer evening,\\nAnd the weather hot and dr)\\nHere and there a small cloud lingered\\n\\\\-^7 In the crimson western sky.\\nRut when night had spread her mantle\\nOver woodland, vale, and hill.\\nNot a zephyr was then wafting,\\nE en the aspen leaf was still.\\nLanguidly I sat reposing,\\nHalf asleep, within the glade,\\nWhsn methought I heard a murmuring\\nVoice amidst the maple shade.\\nSilently I sat and listened,\\nWondering if there could be\\nDryad, sylvan elf, or fairy.\\nHiding in the maple tree;\\nNot a leaf to me seemed moving.\\nBut amidst the branches hid,\\nSomething in a voice mysterious.\\nSoftly whispered Katydid.\\nWhat? But not another sentence\\nFell upon my anxious ear;\\nCould some disembodied spirit\\nFrom another world be near?\\nHalf ashamed, I asked the question,\\nIs it friend or foe that s hid?\\nOr is there a spirit present?\\nStill the answer Katydid.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "52 POETIC JEWELS\\nWho was Kate? and where her dwelling?\\nWas there any one could tell?\\nWas she some lone Indian maiden,\\nAnd the fairest of the dell?\\nSeriously I put the query,\\nTo what seemed so strangely hid,\\nCan a zvouian keep a secret\\nStill the answer Katydid.\\nWhat could be the solemn mystery,\\nSo religiously concealed?\\nKatydid, but what? who knew it?\\nWould it ever be revealed?\\nStranger still, a woman s secret,\\nFrom the babbling world is hid;\\nFor the wisest village gossip\\nCannot tell what Katydid.\\nPeter Peppercorn.\\nTHE NAKED TRUTH.\\nI DO not fear to follow out the truth.\\nAlbeit along the precipice s edge;\\nLet us speak plain: there is more force in names\\nThan most men dream of; and a lie may keep\\nIts throne a whole age longer, if it skulk\\nBehind the shield of some fair seeming name.\\nLet us call tyrants tyrants, and maintain\\nThat only freedom comes by grace of God,\\nAnd all that comes not by his grace must fall\\nFor men in earnest have no time to waste\\nIn patching fig leaves for the naked truth.\\nJames Russell Loivell.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THINKING OF THE BELOVED.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 55\\nWILLIAM AND HELEN.\\n[In the preface to the edition published anonymously in 1 796, Sir Wal-\\nter Scott says: The first two lines of the forty-seventh stanza, descriptive of\\nthe speed of the lovers, may perhaps bring to the recollection of many a passage\\nextremely similar in a translation of Leonora, which first appeared in the\\nMonthly Magazine. In justice to himself, the translator thinks it his duty to\\nacknowledge that his curiosity was first attracted to this truly romantic story by\\na gentleman, who, having heard Leonora once read in manuscript, could only\\nrecollect the general outlines, and part of a couplet, which, from the singularity\\nof its structure and frequent recurrence, had remained impressed upon his\\nmemory. For the information of those to whom such obsolete expressions may\\nbe less familiar, it may be noticed that the word serf means a vassal and that\\nto busk and bonne is to dress and prepare one s self for a journey.\\nROM heavy dreams fair Helen rose\\nAnd eyed the dawning red:\\nAlas, my love, thou tarriest long!\\nOh, art thou false, or dead?\\nWith gallant Frederick s princely power\\nHe sought the bold crusade;\\nBut not a word from Judah s wars\\nTold Helen how he sped.\\nWith Paynim and with Saracen,\\nAt length a truce was made,\\nAnd every knight returned to dry\\nThe tears his love had shed.\\nOur gallant host was homeward bound,\\nWith many a song of joy:\\nGreen waved the laurel in each plume,\\nThe badge of victory.\\nAnd old and young, and sire and son,\\nTo meet them crowd the way,\\nWith shouts, and mirth, and melody.\\nThe debt of love to pay.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "56 POETIC JEWELS\\nFull many a maid her true love met,\\nAnd sobbed in his embrace,\\nAnd fluttering joy in tears and smiles\\nArrayed full many a face.\\nNor joy nor smile for Helen sad:\\nShe sought the host in vain;\\nFor none could tell her William s fate,\\nIf faithless, or if slain.\\nThe martial band is passed and gone:\\nShe rends her raven hair,\\nAnd in distraction s bitter mood\\nShe weeps with wild despair.\\nOh, rise, my child, her mother said,\\nNor sorrow thus in vain;\\nA perjured lover s fleeting heart\\nNo tears recall again.\\nO mother, what is gone, is gone,\\nWhat s lost, forever lorn:\\nDeath, death alone can comfort me;\\nOh had I ne er been born!\\nOh, break, my heart, oh, break at once!\\nDrink my life-blood, Despair!\\nNo joy remains on earth for me.\\nFor me in Heaven no share.\\nOh, enter not in judgment, Lord!\\nThe pious mother prays;\\nImpute not guilt to thy frail child!\\nShe knows not what she says.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 57\\nOh, say thy Pater Noster, child!\\nOh, turn to God and grace!\\nHis will that turned thy bliss to bale,\\nCan change thy bale to bliss.\\nO mother, mother! what is bliss?\\nO mother, what is bale?\\nMy William s love was heaven on earth,\\nWithout it, earth is hell.\\nWhy should I pray to ruthless Heaven,\\nSince my loved William s slain?\\nI only prayed for William s sake,\\nAnd all my prayers were vain.\\nOh, take the sacrament, my child.\\nAnd check these tears that flow;\\nBy resignation s humble prayer,\\nOh, hallowed be thy woe!\\nNo sacrament can quench this fire,\\nOr slake this scorching pain:\\nNo sacrament can bid the dead\\nArise and live again.\\nOh, break, my heart, oh, break at once!\\nBe thou my god. Despair!\\nHeaven s heaviest blow has fallen on me.\\nAnd vain each fruitless prayer.\\nOh, enter not in judgment, Lord,\\nWith thy frail child of clay!\\nShe knows not what her tongue has spoke;\\nImpute it not, I pray!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "58 POETIC JEWELS\\nForbear, my child, this desperate woe,\\nAnd turn to God and grace;\\nWell can devotion s heavenly glow\\nConvert thy bale to bliss.\\nO mother, mother, what is bliss?\\nO mother, what is bale?\\nWithout my William, what were heaven,\\nOr, with him, what were hell?\\nWild she arraigns the eternal doom.\\nUpbraids each sacred power,\\nTill, spent, she sought her silent room\\nAll in the lonely tower.\\nShe beat her breast, she wrung her hands,\\nTill sun and day were o er,\\nAnd through the glimmering lattice shone\\nThe twinkling of the star.\\nThen, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell.\\nThat o er the moat was hung;\\nAnd clatter! clatter! on its boards\\nThe hoof of courser rung.\\nThe clank of echoing steel was heard\\nAs off the rider bounded;\\nAnd slowly on the winding stair\\nA heavy footstep sounded.\\nAnd hark! and hark! a knock Tap! tap!\\nA rustling, stifled noise:\\nDoor-latch and tinkling staples ring;\\nAt length a whispering voice.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "FOETIC JEWELS 59\\nAwake, awake, arise, my love!\\nHow, Helen, dost thou fare?\\nWakest thou, or sleep st? laugh st thou, or weep st?\\nHast thought on me, my fair?\\nMy love! my love! so late by night!\\nI waked, I wept for thee:\\nMuch have I borne since dawn of morn;\\nWhere, William, couldst thou be?\\nWe saddle late from Hungary\\nI rode since darkness fell;\\nAnd to its bourne we both return\\nBefore the matin-bell.\\nOh, rest this night within my arms,\\nAnd warm thee in their fold!\\nChill howls through hawthorn-bush the wind:\\nMy love is deadly cold.\\nLet the wind howl! through hawthorn-bush!\\nThis night we must away\\nThe steed is wight, the spur is bright;\\nI cannot stay till day.\\nBusk, busk, and boune Thou mount st behind\\nUpon my black Barb steed\\nO er stocks and stiles, a hundred miles,\\nWe haste to bridal bed.\\nTo-night to-night a hundred miles!\\nO dearest William, stay!\\nThe bell strikes twelve dark, dismal hour\\nOh, wait, my love, till day!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "60 POETIC JE WELS\\nLook here, look here the moon shines clear\\nFull fast I ween we ride;\\nMount and away for ere the day\\nWe reach our bridal bed.\\nThe black Barb snorts, the bridle rings;\\nHaste, busk, and boune, and seat thee!\\nThe feast is made, the chamber spread,\\nThe bridal guests await thee.\\nStrong love prevailed she busks, she bounes,\\nShe mounts the Barb behind,\\nAnd round her darling William s waist\\nHer lily arms she twined.\\nAnd, hurry! hurry! off they rode.\\nAs fast as fast might be;\\nSpurned from the courser s thundering heels\\nThe flashing pebbles flee.\\nAnd on the right, and on the left,\\nEre they could snatch a view,\\nFast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain.\\nAnd cot, and castle flew.\\nSit fast dost fear? The moon shines clear\\nFleet rides my Barb keep hold!\\nFear st thou? Oh no! she faintly said;\\nBut why so stern and cold?\\nWhat yonder rings? what yonder sings?\\nWhy shrieks the owlet gray?\\nTis death-bells clang, tis funeral song,\\nThe body to the clay.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 61\\nWith song and clang, at morrow s dawn,\\nYe may inter the dead:\\nTo-night I ride, with my young bride,\\nTo deck our bridal bed.\\nCome with tiiy choir, thou coffined guest,\\nTo swell our nuptial song!\\nCome, priest, to bless our marriage feast!\\nCome all, come all along!\\nCeased clang and song; down sunk the bier;\\nThe shrouded corpse arose:\\nAnd, hurry, hurry! all the train\\nThe thundering steed pursues.\\nAnd, forward! forward! on they go;\\nHigh snorts the straining steed;\\nThick pants the rider s laboring breath,\\nAs headlong on they speed.\\nO William, why this savage haste?\\nAnd where thy bridal bed?\\nTis distant far. Still short and stern?\\nTis narrow, trustless maid.\\nNo room for me? Enough for both;\\nSpeed, speed, my Barb, thy course!\\nO er thundering bridge, through boiling surge,\\nHe drove the furious horse.\\nTramp! tramp! along the land they rode\\nSplash! splash! along the sea;\\nThe steed is wight, the spur is bright,\\nThe flashing pebbles flee.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "62 POETIC JEWELS\\nFled past on right, and left how fast,\\nEach forest, grove, and bower;\\nOn right and left fled past how fast\\nEach city, town, and tower.\\nDost tear? dost fear? The moon shines cleai;;\\nDost fear to ride with me?\\nHurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!\\nO Wilham, let them be!\\nSee there, see there! What yonder swings\\nAnd creaks mid whistling rain?\\nGibbet and steel, the accursed wheel;\\nA murderer in his chain,\\nHollo! thou felon, follow here:\\nTo bridal bed we ride;\\nAnd thou shalt prance a fetter dance\\nBefore me and my bride.\\nAnd hurry, hurry! clash, clash, clash!\\nThe wasted form descends;\\nAnd fleet as wind through hazel-bush\\nThe wild career attends.\\nTramp! tramp! along the land they rode,\\nSplash! splash! along the sea;\\nThe scourge is red, the spur drops blood,\\nThe flashing pebbles flee.\\nHow fled what moonshine faintly showed!\\nHow fled what darkness hid!\\nHow fled the earth beneath their feet,\\nThe heaven above their head!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 63\\nDost fear? dost fear? the moon shines clear,\\nAnd well the dead can ride;\\nDoes faithful Helen fear for them?\\nOh, leave in peace the dead!\\nBarb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock;\\nThe sand will soon be run:\\nBarb! Barb! I smell the morning air;\\nThe race is well nigh done.\\nTramp! tramp! along the land they rode.\\nSplash! splash! along the sea;\\nThe scourge is red, the spur drops blood,\\nThe flashing pebbles flee.\\nHurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead.\\nThe bride, the bride is come!\\nAnd soon we reach the bridal bed,\\nFor, Helen, here s my home.\\nReluctant on its rusty hinge\\nRevolved an iron door.\\nAnd by the pale moon s setting beam\\nWere seen a church and tower.\\nWith many a shriek and cry whiz round\\nThe birds of midnight, scared;\\nAnd, rustling like autumnal leaves,\\nUnhallowed ghosts were heard.\\nO er many a tomb and tombstone pale\\nHe spurred the fiery horse,\\nTill sudden at an open grave\\nHe checked the wondrous course.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "64 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe falling gauntlet quits the rein,\\nDown drops the casque of steel,\\nThe cuirass leaves his shrinking side,\\nThe spur his gory heel.\\nThe eyes desert the naked skull,\\nThe moldering flesh the bone,\\nTill Helen s lily arms entwine\\nA ghastly skeleton.\\nThe furious Barb snorts fire and foam.\\nAnd, with a fearful bound,\\nDissolves at once in empty air,\\nAnd leaves her on the ground.\\nHalf seen by fits, by fits half heard.\\nPale specters fleet along;\\nWheel round the maid in dismal dance,\\nAnd howl the funeral song.\\nE en when the heart s with anguish cleft.\\nRevere the doom of Heaven.\\nHer soul is from her body reft;\\nHer spirit be forgiven!\\nWalter Scott.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 65\\nTHE PRINCIPAL RULES OF ORATORY.\\n(in a nutshell.)\\n^^-^^E brief, be pointed let your matter stand\\nLucid in order, solid, and at hand\\nSpend not your words on trifles, but condense;\\nStrike with the mass of thought, not drops of sense\\nPress to the close with vigor once begun,\\nAnd leave (how hard the task!) leave oft when done;\\nWho draws a labor d length of reasoning out,\\nPuts straws in lines for winds to whirl about\\nWho draws a tedious tale of learning o er,\\nCounts but the sands on ocean s boundless shore;\\nVictory in law is gained as battles fought,\\nNot by the numbers, but the forces bro t.\\nWhat boots success in skirmishes or in fray,\\nIf rout and ruin following close the day\\nWhat worth a hundred posts maintained with skill.\\nIf, these all held, the foe is victor still\\nHe who would win his cause, with power must frame\\nPoints of support, and look with steady aim;\\nAttack the weak, defend the strong with art.\\nStrike but few blows, but strike them to the heart;\\nAll scattered fires but end in smoke and noise.\\nThe scorn of men, the idle play of boys.\\nKeep, then, this first great precept ever near.\\nShort be your speech, your matter strong and clear;\\nEarnest your manner, warm and rich your style,\\nSevere in taste, yet full of grace the while\\nSo may you reach the loftiest heights of fame,\\nAnd leave, when life is past, a deathless name.\\nAnonymous.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "66 POETIC JEWELS\\nEROS ATHANATOS.\\n[a garden, the nuptial night of HYACINTHUS and IRENE.]\\nTwo shapes that walk together, and caress,\\nAmid a garden sweet with silentness,\\nAnd, watching every flower and pulsing star.\\nShare their souls rapture with all things that are.\\nThrough the wide casement, open to the sky,\\nWhite-footed gleams the bed where they shall lie;\\nAnd from the chamber, luminously dim,\\nRed marble steps slope downward to the brim\\nOf a white-fountain in the garden, where\\nA marble Dryad glimmers through the air.\\nScented the garden lies and blossom-strewn.\\nAnd still as sleep beneath the rising Moon,\\nSave from a blooming rose-grove, warm and still,\\nSoft steals the nightingale s thick, amorous trill.\\nHYACINTHUS.\\nb^;!!^EEST thou two waifs of cloud in the dim blue\\nMeandering moonward in the vap rous light?\\nMethinks they are two spirits bright and true,\\nBlending their silvern breaths, and born anew,\\nIn the still rapture of this heavenly night!\\nSee! how like flowers the stars their paths bestrew.\\nTill the moon turns, and smiles, and looks them through,\\nBreathing upon them, when with bosoms white\\nThey melt on one another, and unite.\\nNow they are gone! they vanish from our view.\\nLost in that rapture exquisitely bright\\nO love! my love! methinks that thou and I\\nResemble those thin waifs in heaven astray:\\nWe meet, we blend, grow bright!\\nIRENE.\\nAnd we must die!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 67\\nHYACINTHUS.\\nNay, sweet, for love can never pass away!\\nIRENE.\\nAre they not gone? and, dear, shall we not go?\\nOh, love is life, but after life comes death!\\nIIVACLN THUS.\\nNo flower, no drop of rain, no flake of snow,\\nNo beauteous thing that blossometh below.\\nMay perish, though it vanish, ev n as breath!\\nThe bright Moon drinks those wanderers of the west.\\nThey melt in her warm beauty, and are blest;\\n^see them not, yet, in that light divine\\nUpgathered, they are happy, and they shine;\\nNot lost, but vanished, grown ev n unawares,\\nA part of a diviner life than theirs!\\nNIGHTINGALES SING.\\nThrough our throats the raptures rise.\\nIn the scented air they swim;\\nFrom the skies,\\nWith their own love-luster dim,\\nGaze innumerable eyes!\\nSweet, oh, sweet.\\nGrows the music from each throat,\\nThick and fleet.\\nNote on note.\\nTill in ecstasy we float!\\nIRENE.\\nHow vast looks Heaven! how solitary and deep!\\nDost thou believe that Spirits walk the air.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "08 POETIC JEWELS\\nTreading those azure fields, and downward peep\\nWith sad, great eyes when Earth is fast asleep?\\nHYACINTHUS.\\nOne spirit, at least, immortal LoVE, walks there!\\nA SHOOTING STAR.\\nSwift from my bliss, in the silence above,\\nI slip to thy kiss, O my star! O my love!\\nSPIRITS IN THE LEAVES.\\nWho are these twain in the garden bowers?\\nThey glide with rapture rich as ours.\\nTouch them, feel them, and drink their sighs.\\nBrush their lips and their cheeks and eyes!\\nHow their hearts beat! how they glow!\\nBrightly, lightly, they come and go;\\nUpward gazing they look in bliss,\\nSave when softly they pause, to kiss.\\nKiss them also and share the light\\nThat fills their breathing this golden night.\\nTouch them! clasp them! round them twine,\\nTheir lips are burning with dews divine.\\nHYACINTHUS.\\nLove, tread this way with rosy feet,\\nAnd, resting on the shadowy seat,\\nNeath the laburnum s golden rain.\\nWatch how with murmurous refrain\\nThe fountain leaps, its basin dark\\nFlashing in many a starry spark.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 09\\nWith such a bhss, with such a light,\\nWith such an iteration bright,\\nOur souls, upbubbling from the clay.\\nLeap, sparkle, blend in silvern spray,\\nGleam in the Moon, and falling still.\\nSink duskily with a thick thrill,\\nTogether blent w ith kiss and press.\\nIn the dark silence of caress,\\nYet there they pause not, but cast free\\nAfter surcease of ecstacy,\\nHeavenward they leap together clinging.\\nAnd like the fountain flash, upspringing!\\nTHE FOUNTAIN LEAPING.\\nHigher, still higher!\\nWith a trembling and gleaming\\nStill upward streaming.\\nIn the silvern fire\\nOf a dim desire;\\nStill higher, higher!\\nWith a bright pulsation\\nOf aspiration\\nHigher!\\nHigher, still higher!\\nTo the lights above me;\\nThey gleam, they love me;\\nThey beckon me nigher,\\nAnd my waves aspire.\\nStill higher, higher;\\nBut I fall down failing,\\nStill wildly wailing\\nHieher!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "70 POEJIC JEWELS\\nNIGHTINCiALES SING.\\nDeeper let the glory glow;\\nSweeter let our voices croon!\\nYet more slow%\\nLet our happy music flow,\\nSweet and slow, hushed and low.\\nNow the gray cloud veils the Moon.\\nSweet, oh, sweet\\nWatch her as our wild hearts beat.\\nSee! she quits the clasping cloud,\\nForth she moves on silvern feet,\\nSmiling with her bright head bowed\\nPour the living rapture loud\\nThick and fleet,\\nSweet, oh, sweet.\\nLet the notes of rapture crowd\\nIRENE {to herself).\\nAnd this is love! Until this hour\\nI never lived but, like a flower\\nClose prest i the bud, with sleeping senses,\\nI drank the dark, dim influences\\nOf sunlight, moonlight, shade, and dew.\\nAt last I open thrilling through\\nWith Love s strange sense, which seemeth part\\nOf the warm life within my heart.\\nPart of the air around. Oh bliss!\\nWas ever night so sweet as this\\nIt is enough to breathe, to be,\\nAs if one were a flower, a tree,\\nA leaf o the bough, just stirring light\\nWith the warm breathing of the night!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 71\\nSPIRITS IN THE LEAVES.\\nWhisper, what are they doing now?\\nHe is kissing his lady s brow,\\nHolding her face up to the light\\nLike a beautiful tablet, marble-white.\\nThe Moon is smiling upon it lo!\\nWhiter it is than driven snow.\\nHe kisses again and speaketh gay;\\nWhisper, whisper, what doth he say?\\nIIYACINTHUS.\\nForever and ever! forever and ever!\\nAs the fount that upleaps, as the breezes that blow,\\nLove thou me!\\nForever and ever, forever and ever,\\nWhile the nightingales sing and the rose garlands glow.\\nLove I thee!\\nForever and ever, with all things to prove us.\\nIn this world, in that world that bendeth above us,\\nAsleeping, awaking, in earth, as in Heaven,\\nBy this kiss, this other, by thousands ungiven,\\nBy the hands which now touch thee, the arms that enfold\\nthee,\\nBy the soul in my eyes that now swoons to behold thee,\\nBy starlight, by moonlight, by scented rose-blossoms,\\nBy all things partaking the joy in our bosoms.\\nBy the rapture within us, the rapture around us,\\nBy God who hath made us, and Love who hath crowned us.\\nBy one sense and one soul we are blent, ne er to sever\\nForever and ever forever and ever\\nMore kisses to seal it. Forever and ever.\\n5", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "72 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE WOOD ECHOES.\\nForever and ev^er.\\nTHE WIND SINGS.\\nHush, no more for they have fled;\\nFoot by foot and tread by tread\\nI pursue them; all is said,\\nTill Apollo rises red.\\nHere they sat, and there, and there!\\nHere stood clinging thou may st swear,\\nFor the spirit of the air\\nStill their scented breath doth bear.\\nAll is done, and all grows chill.\\nHere upon the window-sill\\nI will lean and feel a thrill\\nFrom the sleeping chamber still.\\nBlow the curtain back and peep:\\nSilvern bright the moonbeams creep.\\nHush Still pale with passion deep.\\nSee them lying fast asleep.\\nRobert Bitchanaji.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 73\\nNOW THE OLD WIFE S GONE.\\n^LONE, ay, masters, I live alone in this old small\\nroom that you see,\\nFor, now my old woman is laid to rest, I have no\\none to think of me;\\nWe were wedded along, long while ago, full fifty years and\\nmore,\\nAnd folks find changes hard to bear when nigh upon\\nfourscore.\\nAh, she was a handsome and winsome lass in the days of\\nthe far-back past,\\nAnd a beauty lingered on her old face for me to the very\\nlast;\\nTrue, she sometimes had a bit of tongue, but maybe I had\\none too.\\nAnd I find out, now she is dead and gone, what worries\\na wife goes through.\\nAy, the petty troubles of a woman s life a man can only\\nlearn\\nWhen he has to Hght his fire himself, and finds green\\nwood won t burn;\\nWhen he has to wash out his bits of things, and cook his\\nfood himself,\\nAnd keep his crockware free from dust, and ranged on a\\nnice clean shelf.\\nAnd then the needle that seemed to fly with magic speed\\nthrough her work.\\nSticks tightly in mine, as if rusted in, and I pull it out\\nwith a jerk;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "74\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nAnd my cotton ties in a thousand knots, auJ as for\\nworsted yarn,\\nI know I could dig up an acre of ground while I m doing\\na little darn.\\nThe old gray cat that my dead wife loved, comes rubbing\\nagainst my hand,\\nAnd I often find myself talking to her as if she could\\nunderstand;\\nBut tis comfort to speak when my heart is full, for it\\nsoftens my grief away;\\nAnd I don t want to hear other people preach, for there s\\nnothing new they can sa}\\nOf course I know she s better off, but a man at the close\\nof life\\nSeems beginning his working days over again when he\\nloses his long-time wife;\\nI shall go to her, ay, I m thinking of that, and I ll\\npatiently here abide\\nTill under the shade of the church we both loved, I am\\nlaid by my old wife s side.\\nj\\\\Iary Frances Adams.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 77\\nDEAD.\\nMy son Absalom My son, my son\\nEAD turned at once into clay;\\nDead he that drew Hfe from my breast\\nWhom I clasp d to my heart yesterday,\\nAnd close to its pulses had press d\\nDead and his face ashen gray\\nDead the wild spirit at rest\\nMy son, my son\\nDead but not shot through the heart\\nIn battle gainst wrong for the right\\nTvvere noble from life thus to part,\\nAnd fall slain in a chivalrous fight;\\nBut to think /loiu he died is the smart,\\nA darkness unbroken by light!\\nMy son, my son!\\nHadst thou died in a cause that was good,\\nStanding up for the right and the true,\\nThy mother had said ay, she zvould\\nLet death make a gap twixt us two:\\nI swear, by the cross and the rood,\\nWithout tears I had bade thee adieu!\\nMy son, my son!\\nDead stricken down by a blow\\nDealt out by a passionate hand;\\nIn the wink of an eyelid laid low,\\nHis blood welling out on the sand,\\nAnd crawling all red in its flow,\\nTill it crept to my feet where I stand!\\nMy son, my son!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "78 POETIC JEWELS\\nDead: killed in a wild drunken brawl\\nAh, here is the sting and the shame;\\nAh, here is the wormwood and gall;\\nThis burns in my bosom like flame!\\nWould that tears had dropped on my pall\\nEre this blot had blackened his name.\\nMy son, my son\\nThus to die with a wine-maddened brain,\\nBesotted, befooled, and beguiled\\nI curse, from the heart of my pain.\\nIn words that sound frantic and wild\\nI curse but my curses are vain;\\nThey cannot restore me my child.\\nMy son, my son!\\nYet my grief is but common, they say,\\nOthers feel the same anguish and woe;\\nSad mothers and wives face the day,\\nAnd their eyes with hot tears overflow.\\nAs weeping, they pass on their way,\\nAnd cursing the wine as they go.\\nMy son, my son!\\nT tell you, in God s holy name.\\nThat this is the scourge of the land,\\nIts burden, its sorrow, its shame,\\nBarnt deep on its brow like a brand;\\nStriking hard at its honor and fame,\\nAnd crumbling its strength into sand.\\nMy son, my son!\\nWe mothers and wives lift the cry.\\nAnd pray ye, O men, for your grace;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 79\\nCome, help from your stations on high.\\nAs ye hope to look God in the face,\\nWho sees us, as weeping we lie,\\nAnd ask you for ruth from your place!\\nMy son, my son!\\nO poets, youy aid we implore:\\nChant no longer the praises of wine;\\nDash the wine-cup down on the floor,\\nYou dishonor a craft so divine!\\nAh, indeed, you would praise it no more,\\nIf your son lay dead there like mine!\\nMy son, my son!\\nO singers, well skilled in the song,\\nWho stir the sweet air with your breath\\nAs your voices move thrilling along,\\nDare you laud the cup that is death?\\nDare ye lend your great gifts to such wrong:\\nIf so, from your brows tear the wreath!\\nMy son, my son!\\nHear the cry from the mad-house and jail.\\nHear the moan of the starving and poor.\\nHear the widows and orphans sharp wail.\\nWho, like martyrs that groan and endure,\\nLift to God their white faces so pale,\\nAnd, though speechless, His pity adjure.\\nMy son, my son!\\nHelp all Free the slaves from their bands;\\nHelp, and take part in this fight;\\nStrike the fetters from paralyzed hands!\\nLike Samson, rise up in your might,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "80 POETIC JEWELS\\nBreak the chains like green willow-wands:\\nDo this in God s name, and the right!\\nMy son, my son!\\nOh, scorn not, I pray you the cry\\nOf a mother, a widow undone;\\nBut even Xhongh you pass it by,\\nIt will move the great God on His throne;\\nHe hears from the dust where I lie.\\nWhere in ashes I weep for my son.\\nMy son, my son!\\nRe7 Canon Bell.\\nSTEEPLE FOLK.\\n^^^^HE wonderful people\\nThat live in the steeple,\\nThere chanting and singing\\nWith the great bells swinging.\\nSwaying with a pond rous motion to and fro.\\nWith a mighty cling! clang!\\nA sullen clash and bang!\\nA booming of noises,\\nMyriads of voices.\\nSmitten out from dull metal with a blow.\\nAnd then the wild, wild glee\\nOf elf folk frolic free!\\nAs they skip on the rope,\\nIt will verily smoke.\\nAnd they hang head down in a spider s web.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 81\\nOr gambol on the beams\\nLike weird pigmies in dreams,\\nThese gobhn rope-dancers\\nAnd marvelous prancers\\nThat leap to and fro on a shining thread.\\nOh, the sound of far bells,\\nBorne in on windy swells.\\nThe faint, silver chiming.\\nThe sweet broken rhyming,\\nLike some poet s lines that run in the head\\nWe walk in grassy fields,\\nAnd the brain almost reels\\nWith the mem ry of bliss-\\nA fond word or a kiss,\\nAnd the rose she wore the rose was ripe red.\\nAnd now there comes a hum\\nWhen all the air is dumb.\\nLike innumerable bees\\nIn freshly blossomed trees;\\nWhat is it those elves are whisp ring to each other\\nIn a secret low sound,\\nThat seems to heave the ground,\\nA soft buzz and tingle\\nNo jangle or jingle\\nLike a baby crooned to sleep by its mother?\\nWeird music not of earth,\\nThin and fine as elf mirth,\\nComes winding round and round.\\nIn a spiral of sound.\\nAnd moves us to tears with its haunting strain,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "82 POETIC JEWELS\\nBy its intimations,\\nAnd faint reverberations,\\nOf tenderest heart thrills,\\nThat the grave alone stills\\nThat quicken the cells of the coldest brain.\\nStrange waitings and sighings,\\nLoud sobbings and cryings.\\nAnd then a plaintive knell\\nFrom the great tolling bell.\\nHeard over the green, daisy-sprinkled mead;\\nYes, there is some one dead\\nAnd she was newly wed;\\nA fortnight but just gone.\\nBells rang clearly ding! dong!\\nTo this woful day did the elves give heed!\\nThey knew it was coming,\\nAnd woke a strange humming.\\nThat prophesies of ill\\nWhen the wind blasts are still;\\nAnd, if hearts do break, what is it to them?\\nIt is, I ween, the same.\\nFor their loss or their gain.\\nWhether bells merry go,\\nOr bells toll sad and slow;\\nThey care not what happens to ants of men.\\nFantasies of motion,\\nHigh in that great ocean\\nOf blue, pellucid air\\nWith a calm everywhere;\\nAbove this earth is the vast serenity,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 83\\nAbove the want and woe,\\nAnd running to and fro,\\nAbove the pain and loss,\\nAnd dragging heavy cross,\\nAbove the dull cares of poor humanity.\\nGood, church-going people\\nGaze up at yon steeple,\\nAs it seems to reel and rock\\nThey hear voices that mock;\\nAnd hush! was that a whisper in the breast?\\nOr was it wicked fays\\nThat heed not prayer or praise\\nThat never bow the knee,\\nBut live Godless and free,\\nIn the holy house of worship and rest?\\nThe ills we cannot know.\\nLike the gathering of snow,\\nThese elves see advancing.\\nWhen sunbeams are dancinsf,\\nA wisp of vapor, a wreath of smoke;\\nAnd they laugh to see us play\\nAnd sport the time away\\nTill thunder gusts and showers\\nHave spoiled our pretty bowers,\\nOr out of a clear heaven falls the stroke.\\nBut from the over-soul.\\nThe great enduring whole,\\nThere falls a sweeter chime,\\nA more entrancing rhyme.\\nFar, far above the clanging of the bell,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "m POETIC JE WELS\\nAbove the bletided strain\\nOf human joy and pain,\\nFrom that eternal calm\\nThe universal psalm,\\nSounds, all is well! all is well! all is well!\\nAugusta Lamed.\\nONLY A WOMAN.\\nShe loves with love that cannot tire\\nAnd if, ah, woe she loves alone\\nThrough passionate duty love flames higher,\\nAs grass grows taller around a stone.\\nCoTCutrv Patniore.\\nTf ^^^^^J^O, the truth s out. I ll grasp it like a snake\\nIt will not slay me. My heart shall not break\\nAwhile, if only for the children s sake.\\nFor his, too, somewhat. Let him stand unblamed;\\nNone say, he gave me less than honor claimed.\\nExcept one trifle scarcely worth being named\\nY\\\\iQ heart. That s gone. The corrupt dead might be\\nAs easily raised up, breathing fair to see,\\nAs he could bring his whole heart back to me.\\nI never sought him in coquettish sport,\\nOr courted him as silly maidens court,\\nAnd wonder when the longed-for prize falls short.\\nI only loved him any woman would;\\nBut shut my love up till he came and sued,\\nThen poured it o er his dry life like a flood.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 85\\nI was so happy I could make him blest!\\nSo happy that I was his first and best,\\nAs he mine when he took me to his breast.\\nAh me! if only then he had been true!\\nIf for one little year, a month or two,\\nHe had given me love for love, as was my due!\\nOr had he told me, ere the deed was done,\\nHe only raised me to his heart s dear throne\\nPoor substitute because the queen was gone!\\n0, had he whispered, when his sweetest kiss\\nWas warm upon my mouth in fancied bliss,\\nHe had kissed another woman even as this\\nIt were less bitter! Sometimes I could weep,\\nTo be thus cheated, like a child asleep;\\nWere not my anguish far too dry and deep.\\nSo I built my house upon another s ground;\\nMocked with a heart just caught at the rebound\\nA cankered thing, that looked so firm and sound.\\nAnd when that heart grew colder, colder still,\\n1, ignorant, tried all duties to fulfill,\\nBlaming my foolish, pain-exacting will.\\nAll anything but him. It was to be\\nThe full draught others drink up carelessly\\nWas made this bitter Tantalus-cup for me.\\nI say again -he gives me all I claimed,\\nI and my children never shall be shamed;\\nHe is a just man he will live unblamed.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "8G POETIC JEWELS\\nOnly O God, O God, to cry for bread,\\nAnd get a stone! Daily to lay my head\\nUpon a bosom where the old love s dead!\\nDead? Fool! It never lived. It only stirred,\\nGalvanic, like an hour-cold corpse. None heard;\\nSo let me bury it without a word.\\nHe ll keep that other woman from my sight.\\nI know not if her face be foul or bright;\\nI only know that it was his delight\\nAs his was mine; I only know he stands\\nPale, at the touch of their long-severed hands.\\nThen to a flickering smile his lip commands,\\nLest I should grieve, or jealous anger show.\\nHe need not. When the ship s gone down, I trow,\\nWe little reck whatever wind may blow.\\nAnd so my silent moan begins and ends,\\nNo world s laugh or world s taunt, no pity of friends,\\nOr sneer of foes, with this my torment blends.\\nNone knows none heeds. I have a little pride;\\nEnough to stand up, wifelike, by his side,\\nWith the same smile as when I was his bride.\\nAnd I shall take his children to my arms;\\nThey will not miss these fading, worthless charms;\\nTheir kiss ah! unlike his all pain disarms.\\nAnd haply as the solemn years go by,\\nHe will think sometimes, with regretful sigh.\\nThe other woman was less true than I.\\nDinah MariaJi Miilock.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 87\\nCASTLES IN SPAIN.\\nOW much of my young heart, O Spain,\\nWent out to thee in days of yore!\\nWhat dreams romantic filled my brain,\\nAnd summoned back to life again\\nThe Paladins of Charlemagne,\\nThe Cid Campeador!\\nAnd shapes more shadowy than these,\\nIn the dim twilight half revealed\\nPhoenician galleys on the seas.\\nThe Roman camps like hives of bees,\\nThe Goth uplifting from his knees\\nPelayo on his shield.\\nIt was these memories, perchance,\\nFrom annals of remotest eld,\\nThat lent the colors of romance\\nTo every trivial circumstance.\\nAnd changed the form and countenance\\nOf all that I beheld.\\nOld towns, whose history lies hid\\nIn monkish chronicle or rhyme\\nBurgos, the birthplace of the Cid,\\nZamora and Valladolid,\\nToledo, built and walled amid\\nThe wars of Wamba s time;\\nThe long, straight line of the highway,\\nThe distant town that seems so near,\\nThe peasants in the fields, that stay\\nTheir toil to cross themselves and pray.\\nWhen from the belfry at midday\\nThe Angelus they hear;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nWhite crosses in the mountain pass,\\nMules gay with tassels, the loud din\\nOf muleteers, the tethered ass\\nThat crops the dusky wayside grass,\\nAnd cavaliers with spurs of brass\\nAlighting at the inn;\\nWhite hamlets hidden in fields of wheat.\\nWhite cities slumbering by the sea,\\nWhite sunshine flooding square and street.\\nDark mountain-ranges, at whose feet\\nThe river-beds are dry with heat\\nAll was a dream to me.\\nYet something somber and severe\\nO er the enchanted landscape reigned;\\nA terror in the atmosphere,\\nAs if King Philip listened near,\\nOr Torquemada, the austere.\\nHis ghostly sway maintained.\\nThe softer Andalusian skies\\nDispelled the sadness and the gloom;\\nThere Cadiz by the seaside lies,\\nAnd Seville s orange-orchards rise.\\nMaking the land a paradise\\nOf beauty and of bloom.\\nThere Cordova is hidden among\\nThe palm, the olive, and the vine;\\nGem of the South, by poets sung,\\nAnd in whose Mosque Almanzor hung.\\nAs lamps, the bells that once had rung\\nAt Compostella s shrine.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 91\\nBut over all the rest supreme,\\nThe star of stars, the cynosure.\\nThe artist s and the poet s theme.\\nThe young man s vision, the old man s dream\\nGranada by its winding stream,\\nThe city of the Moor\\nAnd there the Alhambra still recalls\\nAladdin s palace of delight:\\nAllah il Allah through its halls\\nWhispers the fountain as it falls,\\nThe Darro darts beneath its walls,\\nThe hills with snow are white.\\nAh yes, the hills are white with snow,\\nAnd cold with blasts that bite and freeze;\\nBut in the happy vale below\\nThe orange and pomegranate grow.\\nAnd wafts of air toss to and fro\\nThe blossoming almond-trees.\\nThe Vega cleft by the Xenil,\\nThe fascination and allure\\nOf the sweet landscape chains the will;\\nThe traveler lingers on the hill,\\nHis parted lips are breathing still\\nThe last sigh of the Moor.\\nHow like a ruin overgrown\\nWith flowers that hide the rents of time,\\nStands now the Past that I have known;\\nCastles in Spain, not built of stone.\\nBut of white summer cloud, and blown\\nInto this little mist of rhyme!\\nHenry WadstvcrtJi Lofigfellow.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE LAST BANQUET.\\n1793.\\n[The incident narrated in tlae poem is based on fact, a tragedy of the\\nkind being reported to have occurred, during the French Revolution, in the\\nnorth of France.]\\nITAUT, the Norman marquis,\\nSat in his banquet-hall,\\nWhen the shafts of the autumn sunshine\\nGilded the castle-wall;\\nWhile in through the open windows\\nFloated the sweet perfume,\\nBorne in from the stately garden\\nAnd filling the lofty room;\\nAnd still, like a strain of music\\nBreathed in an undertone,\\nThe ripple of running water\\nRose, with its sob and moan.\\nFrom the river, swift and narrow,\\nFar down in the vale below,\\nThat shone like a silver arrow\\nShot from a bended bow.\\nYonder, over the poplars.\\nLapped in the mellow haze.\\nLay the roofs of the teeming city.\\nRed in the noonday blaze\\nWhile ever, in muffled music,\\nThe tall cathedral-towers\\nTold to the panting people\\nThe story of the hours.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 93\\nHis was a cruel temper:\\nUnder his baneful sway-\\nPeasant and maid and matron\\nFled from his headlong way,\\nWhen down from his rocky eyrie,\\nSpurring his foaming steed,\\nGalloped the haughty noble,\\nRipe for some evil deed.\\nBut when the surging thousands,\\nBleeding at every pore.\\nRoused by the wrongs of ages.\\nRose with a mighty roar\\nEver the streets of cities\\nRang with a voice long mute;\\nGibbet and tree and lanterne\\nBearing their bleeding fruit.\\nOnly one touch of feeling\\nHid from the world apart.\\nLocked with the key of silence\\nLived in that cruel heart;\\nFor one he had loved and worshiped,\\nDead in the days of yore,\\nWho slept in the lonely chapel.\\nHard by the river-shore.\\nHigh on a painted panel.\\nSet in a gilded shrine,\\nShone her benignant features\\nLit with a smile divine;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "94 POETIC JEWELS\\nUnder the high, straight forehead,\\nEyes of the brightest blue,\\nFramed in her hair s bright masses,\\nRivaled the sapphire s hue.\\nWhy do you come, Breconi?\\nMarquis, you did not call;\\nBut Mignonne is waiting yonder,\\nDown by the castle-wall.\\nBid her begone! But, master\\nPoor child! she loves jou so!\\nAnd broken with bitter weeping,\\nShe told me a tale of woe.\\nShe says there is wild work yonder.\\nThere in the hated town,\\nWhere the crowds of frenzied people\\nAre shooting the nobles down.\\nAnd to-night, ere the moon has risen.\\nThey come with burning brand,\\nWith the flame of the blazing castle\\nTo light the lurid land.\\nBut first you must spread the banquet\\nHost for the crew abhorred\\nEre out from the topmost turret\\nThey fling my murdered lord.\\nFlee for thy life, Lord Marquis,\\nFlee from a frightful doom,\\nWhen the night has hid the postern\\nSafe in its friendly gloom!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nTush! are you mad, Brecon!?\\nSpread them the banquet here,\\nWith flowers and fruit and viands,\\nSilver and crystal clear;\\nLet not a touch be wanting\\nHasten those hands of thine!\\nHaste to the task, Breconi;\\nAnd I will draw the wine!\\nS.owly the sun went westward,\\nTill all the city s spires\\nFlamed in the flood of splendor\\nA hundred flickering fires.\\nOver the peaceful landscape.\\nClasped by the girdling stream,\\nQuivered, in mournful glory\\nThe last expiring beam.\\nThen up from the rippling river\\nSounded the tramp of feet\\nThat rose o er the solemn stillness\\nLaden with perfume sweet;\\nWhile high o er the sleeping city.\\nAnd over the garden gloom.\\nTowered the grim, black castle,\\nStill as the silent tomb.\\nLeaning over the casement,\\nHeark ning the busy hum,\\nSmiling, the haughty marquis\\nKnew that his time was come:", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "96 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd he turned to the paneled picture\\nThat answered his look again,\\nAnd beamed with a smile of welcome\\nHumming a low refrain.\\nUnder the echoing archway,\\nAnd up o er the stairs of stone,\\nEver the human torrent\\nShouted, in strident tone\\nCurses and gibes and threat nings,\\nWith snatches of ribald jest,\\nStirring the blood to fury\\nIn many a brutal breast.\\nThere, under the lighted tapers\\nSet in the banquet-hall.\\nSmiling and calm and steadfast.\\nTowered the marquis tall.\\nDressed in his richest costume,\\nFacing the gibing host,\\nHe wore on its broad blue ribbon\\nThe star of The Holy Ghost.\\nWelcome, fair guests be seated!\\nHe cried to the motley crowd\\nThat drew to the loaded table\\nWith curses long and loud;\\nWaving a graceful welcome,\\nThe gleaming lights reveal\\nThe rings on his soft, white fingers,\\nStrung with their nerves of steel.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS U7\\nTurned to the paneled picture,\\nCalm in his icy hate,\\nHe stood, in his pride of lineage,\\nCold as a marble Fate;\\nSmiling in hidden meaning\\nIn his rich garments dressed\\nAs cold and hard and polished\\nAs the brilliants on his breast.\\nPouring a brimming beaker.\\nHe cried: Drink, friends, I pray!\\nDrink to the toast I give you!\\nPledge me my proudest day!\\nHere, under the hall of banquet\\nDrink, drink to the festal news!\\nStand twenty casks of powder\\nSet with a lighted fuse!\\nFrozen with sudden horror.\\nThey saw, like a fleecy mist,\\nAs he quaffed the purple vintage.\\nThe ruffles at his wrist.\\nTurned to the smiling picture.\\nClear as a silver bell\\nEchoed his last fond greeting\\nI drink to thee, ma belief\\nDown crashed the crystal goblet,\\nFlung on the marble floor;\\nBack rushed the stricken revelers,\\nBack to the close-barred door!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "98 POETIC JEWELS\\nUp through its yawning crater\\nThe mighty earthquake broke,\\nDashing its spume of fire\\nUp through its waves of smoke!\\nOut through the deep ning darkness,\\nA wild, despairing cry\\nRang as the riven castle\\nLighted the midnight sky;\\nThen down o er the lurid landscape,\\nLit by those fires of hell\\nButtress and roof and rafter\\nThe smoking ruin fell!\\nOver the Norman landscape\\nThe summer sun looks down,\\nGilding the gray cathedral,\\nGilding the teeming town.\\nStill shines the rippling river\\nLapped in its bands of green;\\nStill hangs the scent of roses\\nOver the peaceful scene:\\nBut high o er the trembling poplars,\\nBlackened and burned and riven.\\nThose blasted battlements and towers\\nFrown in the face of heaven;\\nAnd still in the sultry August\\nI seem at times to feel\\nThe smile of that cruel marquis.\\nKeen as his rapier s steel!\\nEdivard Renaiid.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 99\\nBABY S SHOES.\\nTHOSE little, those little, blue shoes!\\nThose shoes that no little feet use,\\nO, the price were high\\nThat those shoes would buy,\\nThose little blue unused shoes!\\nFor they hold the small shape of feet\\nThat no more their mother s eyes meet,\\nThat, by God s good will.\\nYears since, grew still,\\nAnd ceased from their totter so sweet.\\nAnd O, since that baby slept,\\nSo hushed, how the mother has kept.\\nWith a tearful pleasure\\nThat little dear treasure,\\nAnd o er them thought and wept!\\nFor they mind her forevermore\\nOf a patter along the floor;\\nAnd blue eyes she sees\\nLook up from her knees\\nWith a look that in life they wore.\\nAs they lie before her there,\\nThere babbles from chair to chair\\nA little sweet face\\nThat s a gleam in the place.\\nWith its little gold curls of hair.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "100 POETIC JEWELS\\nThen O woirder not that her heart\\nFrom all else would rather part\\nThan those tiny blue shoes\\nThat no little feet use,\\nAnd whose sight makes such fond tears start.\\nWilliam C. Bennett.\\nDOLORES.\\nER old boat loaded with oranges,\\nHer baby tied on her breast,\\nMinorcan Dolores bends to her oars,\\nNoting each reed on the slow-moving shores\\nBut the way is long, and the inlet wide\\nCan two small hands overcome the tide\\nSweeping up into the west?\\nFour little walls of coquina-stone,\\nRude thatch of palmetto-leaves;\\nThere have they nestled, like birds in a tree,\\nFrom winter, and labor, and hunger free;\\nTaking from earth their small need, but no more,\\nNo thought of the morrow, no laying in store,\\nNo gathering patient sheaves.\\nAlone in their southern island-home,\\nThrough the year of summer days,\\nThe two love on; and the bountiful beach\\nClusters its sea-food within his reach;\\nThe two love on, and the tropical land\\nDrops its wild fruit in her indolent hand.\\nAnd life is a sunshiny haze:", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE QUEEN OF BEAUTY.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 103\\nLuiz, Dolores, and baby brown,\\nWith dreamy, passionate eyes\\nFar in the past, lured by Saxon wiles,\\nA simple folk came from the Spanish sea-isles.\\nNow, tinged with the blood of the Creole quadroon,\\nTheir children live idly along the lagoon,\\nUnder the Florida skies,\\nLuiz, Dolores, and baby brown,\\nAh, their blossoming life of love!\\nBut fever falls with its withering blight;\\nDolores keeps watch through the sultry night,\\nIn vain her poor herbs, in vain her poor prayers\\nHer Luiz is mounting the spirit-winged stairs\\nThat lead to her heaven above.\\nSo, her old boat loaded with oranges.\\nHer baby tied on her breast,\\nDolores rows off to the ancient town,\\nWhere the blue-eyed soldiers come marching down\\nFrom the far cold north; they are men who know\\nThus Dolores thinks how to cure all woe;\\nNay, their very touch is blest.\\nOranges! oranges! hear her cry.\\nThrough the shaded plaza path;\\nBut the northern soldiers come marching in\\nThrough the old Spanish city with stir and din;\\nAnd the silent people stand sullen by,\\nTo see the old flag mount again to the sky\\nThe flag they had trampled in wrath.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "1U4 POETIC JEWELS\\nAh, brown Dolores! will no one hear,\\nAnd buy thy poor little store?\\nNow north, now south, on the old sea wall\\nBut her pitiful tones unheeded fall;\\nNow east, now west, through the angry town,\\nPatient she journeys up and down.\\nNor misses one surly door.\\nThen desperate, up to the dreaded ranks\\nShe carries her passionate suit;\\nI have no money, for none would buy;\\nBut come, for God s sake, or he will die!\\nSave him, my Luiz, he is so young!\\nShe pleads in her liquid Minorcan tongue.\\nAnd proffers her store of fruit.\\nBut the northern soldiers move steadily on.\\nThey hear not nor understand;\\nThe last blue ra.ik has passed down the street.\\nShe sees but the dust of their marching feet;\\nThey have crossed a whole country by night and by day,\\nAnd marked, with their blood, every step of the way.\\nTo conquer this southern land.\\nThey are gone O despair! she turns to the church,\\nHalf-fainting, her fruit wet with tears;\\nPerhaps the old saint, who is always there,\\nMay wake up and take them to pay for a prayer;\\nThey are very sweet, as the saint will see,\\nIf he would but wake up, and listen to me;\\nBut he sleeps so, he never hears.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 105\\nShe enters, the church is filled with men,\\nThe pallid men of the north;\\nEach dincry old pew is a sick man s bed,\\nEach battered old bench holds a weary head,\\nThe altar-candles are swept away\\nFor vials and knives in shinincr array,\\nAnd a new saint is stepping forth.\\nHe must be a saint, for he comes from the shrine,\\nA saint of a northern creed\\nClad in a uniform army blue,\\nBut surely the saints may wear any hue\\nDolores thinks, as he takes her hands\\nAnd hears all her story, and understands\\nThe cry of her desperate need.\\nAn orange he gives to each weary man.\\nTo freshen the fevered mouth,\\nThen forth they go down the old sea-wall,\\nAnd they hear in the dusk the picket s call;\\nThe row-boat is moored on the shadowy shore,\\nThe northern saint can manage an oar,\\nAnd the boat eHdcs fast to the south.\\nA healing touch and a holy drink,\\nA bright little heavenly knife.\\nAnd this strange northern saint, who prays no prayers.\\nBrings back the soul from the spirit-winged stairs.\\nAnd once more Minorcan Luiz s dark eyes.\\nIn whose depths the warmth of the tropics lies,\\nRest calm on the awe-stricken wife.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "100 POETIC JEWELS\\nOh, dear northern saint! a shrine will I build,\\nWild roses I ll bring from afar,\\nThe jessamine, orange-flower, wood-tulips bright,\\nAnd those will I worship each morning and night.\\nNay, nay, poor Dolores, I am but a man,\\nA surgeon, who binds up with what skill he can\\nThe wounds of this heart-breaking war.\\nSee, build me no shrines, but take this small book,\\nAnd teach the brown baby to read.\\nHe is gone; and Dolores is left on the shore.\\nShe watches the boat till she sees it no more.\\nShe hears the quick musketry all through the night,\\nShe holds fast the book in her pine-knot s red light.\\nThe book of the northerner s creed.\\nThe sad war is over, the dear peace has come,\\nThe blue-coated soldiers depart;\\nThe brown baby reads the small book, and the three\\nLive on in their isle in the Florida sea;\\nThe brown baby learns many things wise and strange.\\nBut all his new English words never can change\\nThe faith of Dolores fond heart.\\nA boat with a load of oranges\\nIn a flower-decked shrine doth stand\\nCarved in coquina, and thither she goes,\\nTo pray to the only real saint she knows,\\nThe northern surgeon in army blue;\\nAnd there she was found in the morning s dew,\\nDead, with the book in her hand.\\nConstance Fenimorc Woolson.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 107\\nTHE MAIDEN S ARMOR.\\nIS chastity, my brother, chastity:\\nShe that has that, is clad in complete steel;\\n.nd, like a quiver d nymph, with arrows keen,\\nMay trace huge forests, and unharbor d heaths,\\nInfamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds.\\nWhere, through the sacred rays of chastity,\\nNo savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer,\\nWill dare to soil her virgin purity:\\nYea, there, where very desolation dwells.\\nBy grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades,\\nShe may pass on with unblench d majesty,\\nBe it not done in pride, or in presumption.\\nSome say, no evil thing that walks by night\\nIn fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,\\nBlue, meager hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost\\nThat breaks his magic chain at curfew time,\\nNo goblin, or swart fairy of the mine.\\nHath hurtful power o er true virginity.\\nDo ye believe me yet, or shall I call\\nAntiquity from the old schools of Greece\\nTo testify the arms of chastity?\\nHence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,\\nFair silver-shafted queen, forever chaste.\\nWherewith she tamed the brinded lioness\\nAnd spotted mountain-pard, but set at naught\\nThe frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods and men\\nFeared her stern frown, and she was queen of the woods.\\nWhat was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield\\nThat wise Minerva wore, unconquer d virgin.\\nWherewith she freezed her foes to congeal d stone,\\nBut rigid looks of chaste austerity,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "108 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd noble grace, that dash d brute violence\\nWith sudden adoration and blank awe?\\nSo dear to Heaven is saintly chastity,\\nThat, when a soul is found sincerely so,\\nA thousand liveried angels lackey her,\\nDriving far off each thing of sin and guilt;\\nAnd, in clear dream and solemn vision.\\nTell her of things that no gross ear can hear,\\nTill apt converse with heavenly habitants\\nBegin to cast a beam on the outward shape.\\nThe unpolluted temple of the mind,\\nAnd turns it, by degrees, to the soul s essence.\\nTill all be made immortal. Milton.\\nIF THAT HIGH WORLD.\\nIf that high world which lies beyond\\nOur own, surviving love endears;\\nIf there the cherished heart be fond.\\nThe eye the same, except in tears\\nHow welcome those untrodden spheres!\\nHow sweet this very hour to die!\\nTo soar from earth, and find all fears\\nLost in thy light eternity.\\nIt must be so: tis not for self\\nThat we so tremble on the brink;\\nAnd, striving to o erleap the gulph,\\nYet cling to Being s severing link.\\nOh! in that future let us think\\nTo hold each heart the heart that shares,\\nWith them the immortal waters drink.\\nAnd soul in soul grow deathless theirs.\\nLord Byron.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 111\\nCUDDLE DOON.\\nHE bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,\\nWi mickle faucht an din;\\nO, try and sleep, ye waukrife^ rougues,\\nYour faither s comin* in.\\nThey never heed a word I speak;\\nI try to gie a froon,\\nBut aye I hap^ them up, an cry,\\nO bairnies, cuddle doon.\\nWee Jamie wi the curly head\\nHe aye sleeps next the wa\\nBangs up an cries, I want a piece\\nThe rascal starts them a\\nI rin an fetch them pieces, drinks;\\nThey stop avvee the soun\\nThen draw the blankets up an cry,\\nNoo, weanies, cuddle doon.\\nBut ere five minutes gang, wee Rab\\nCries out frae neath the claes,\\nMither, ma k Tam gie ower at ance,\\nHe s kittlin^ wi his taes.\\nThe mischiefs in that Tam for tricks,\\nHe d bother half the toon;\\nBut aye, I hap them up, an cry,\\nO bairnies, cuddle doon.\\nI Wakeful. 2 Cover. 3 Tickling.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "112 POETIC JEWELS\\nAt length they hear their father s fit,\\nAn as he steeks^ the door,\\nThey turn their faces to the.wa\\nWhile Tarn pretends to snore.\\nHae a the weans been glide? he asks,\\nAs he pits off his shoon;\\nThe bairnies, John, are in their beds.\\nAn lang since cuddled doon.\\nAn just afore we bed oursel s,\\nWe look at oor wee lambs;\\nTarn has his airm roun wee Rab s neck,\\nAn Rab, his airm roun Tam s.\\nI lift wee Jamie up the bed,\\nAn as I straik each croon,\\nI whisper, till my heart fills up,\\nO bairnies, cuddle doon.\\nThe bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,\\nWi mirth that s dear to me;\\nBut sune the big warld s cark an care.\\nWill quaten^ doon their glee.\\nYet coom what will to ilka ane,\\nMay he who sits aboon.\\nAye whisper, though their pows^ be bauld,\\nO bairnies, cuddle doon.\\nAlexander Anderson.\\n4 Shuts. 5 Quiet. 6 Heads.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS lU\\nYE NEEDNA BE COURTIN AT ME.\\nE needna be courtin at me, auld man,\\nYe needna be courtin at me;\\nYe re threescore an three, an ye re bhn o an cc,\\nSac ye needna be courtin at me, auld man,\\nYe needna be courtin at me.\\nStan aff, noo, an just lat me be, auhl man,\\nStan aff, noo, an just lat me be;\\nYe re auld an ye re cauld, an ye re blin an ye re bald,\\nAn ye re nae for a lassie like me, auld man,\\nYe re nae for a lassie like me.\\nHa e patience, an hear me a wee, sweet lass,\\nHa e patience, an hear me a wee;\\nI ve gowpens o gowd, an an aumy weel stowed,\\nAn a heart that lo es nane but thee, sweet lass,\\nA heart that lo es nane but thee.\\nI ll busk you as braw as a queen, sw^eet lass,\\nI ll busk you as braw as a queen;\\nI ve guineas to spare, an hark ye, what s mair,\\nI m only two-score an fifteen, sweet lass,\\nOnly two-score an fifteen.\\nGae hame to your gowd an your gear, auld man,\\nGae hame to your gowd an your gear;\\nThere s a laddie I ken has a heart like mine ain,\\nAnd to me he shall ever be dear, auld man.\\nTo me he shall ever be dear.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "114 POETIC JEWELS\\nGet afif, noo, an fash me nae mair, auld man,\\nGet afif, noo, an fash me nae mair;\\nThere s a something in love that your gowd canna\\nmove\\nI ll be Johnie s although I gang bare, auld man,\\nI ll be Johnie s although I gang bare.\\nPeter Still.\\nTHE CITY OF THE HEART.\\nHE heart is a city teeming with life\\nThrough all its gay avenues, rife\\nWith gladness\\nAnd innocent madness,\\nBright beings are passing along.\\nToo fleeting and fair for the eye to behold.\\nWhile something of Paradise sweetens their song.\\nThey are gliding away with their wild gushing ditty,\\nOut of the city.\\nOut of the beautiful gates of gold\\nThrough gates that are ringing\\nWhile to and fro swinging.\\nSwinging and ringing ceaselessly.\\nLike delicate hands that are clapped in glee,\\nBeautiful hands of infancy!\\nThe heart is a city and gay are the feet\\nThat dance along\\nTo the joyous beat\\nOf the timbrel that giveth a pulse to song.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 115\\nBright creatures enwreathed\\nWith flowers and mirth,\\nFair maidens bequeathed\\nWith the glory of earth,\\nSweep through the long street, and singing await,\\nA moment await at the wondering gate;\\nEvery second of time there comes to depart\\nSome form that no more shall revisit the heart!\\nThey are gliding away and breathing farewell\\nHow swiftly they pass\\nThrough the gates of brass,\\nThrough gates that are ringing\\nWhile to and fro swinging,\\nAnd making deep sounds, like that half-stifled swell\\nOf the far-away ring of a gay marriage bell!\\nThe heart is a city with splendor bedight.\\nWhere tread martial armies arrayed for the fight,\\nUnder banner-hung arches.\\nTo war-kindling marches.\\nTo the fife and the rattle\\nOf drums, with gay colors unfurled,\\nOn, eager for battle.\\nTo smite their bright spears on the spears of the world!\\nThrough noontime, through midnight, list and thou lt hear\\nThe gates swing in front, then clang in the rear.\\nLike a bright river flowing.\\nThe war host is going,\\nAnd like to that river,\\nReturning, ah, never!\\nThrough daylight and darkness low thunder is heard\\nFrom the city that flings\\nHer iron-wrought wings.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "IIG\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nFlapping the air like the wings of a bird!\\nThe heart is a city how sadly and slow,\\nTo and fro,\\nCovered with rust, the solemn gates go!\\nWith meek folded arms,\\nWith heads bending lowly,\\nStrange beings pass slowly\\nThrough the dull avenues, chanting their psalms;\\nSighing and mourning, they follow the dead\\nOut of the gates that fall heavy as lead\\nPassing, how sadly, with echoless tread,\\nThe last one is fled!\\nNo more to be opened, the gates softly close,\\nAnd shut in a stranger who loves the repose;\\nWith no sigh for the past, with no countenance of pity.\\nHe spreads his black flag o er the desolate city!\\nT. Buchanan Read.\\n^M^", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\n117\\nTHE PROBLEM OF ETERNITY.\\nNOTHER annual circle is complete!\\nAnother year is added to the past\\nThe unit of all time has reached its mete,\\nAnd we may measure all years by the last.\\nAnd I have questioned it: Canst thou not cast\\nThe ratio of eternity for me\\nTis infinitely long but thou art vast,\\nAnd tijne reveals its mysteries to thee:\\nO Year! what is thy ratio to eternity\\nThe Old Year fell into the tomb of Time\\nWithout reply it would not answer me.\\nAnd then I sought, in fair and sunny clime,\\nWhere shores are washed by broad Pacific s sea,\\nAnd giant forests grow, and found a tree\\nA brave old pine which soared into the blue\\nAn hundred fathoms high; for I would see\\nIf that old giant could not give the clue\\nBy which the finite might the infinite pursue.\\nThe giant waved his hoary head on high,\\nBut answered not from all his life, so long!\\nAnd then I sought the sea, that murmured by\\nAnd seemed to struggle in its muttering song\\nTo utter things unutterable, along\\nThe hoary rocks upon the echoing coast\\nAnd questioned that: O deep, and strong.\\nAnd boundless Ocean! surely thou art, most\\nOf all things known and finite, in the infinite lost!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "118 POETIC JEWELS\\nThou didst behold the natal day of Earth,\\nAnd hear the annual chimes of time strike One.\\nThou didst behold the primal man go forth,\\nThe first to look upon the kindling sun;\\nAnd when the seas were gathered into one,\\nAnd mountains rose, and infant rivers ran,\\nEre nature s countless ages had begun\\nThy life was running through its lengthy span!\\nO Ocean, tell the wondrous mystery to man!\\nBut still the rolling ocean answered naught;\\nIts life was all too short, and finite still\\nIt could not solve the infinite, nor aught\\nUnravel of the All-Eternal will.\\nO vast Eternity! with what a thrill\\nThe longing mind conceives the infinite,\\nAnd faints, and fails, while yet it strives to fill\\nEternity in all its depth and height\\nSmitten to blindness by its own alluring light.\\nThou deathless Mind! wilt thou not answer me?\\nUndying as thou art, and measuring all\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nWhat is thy ratio to Eternity?\\nThou dost compute the ages as they fall;\\nEarth yields her hidden mysteries to thy call.\\nAnd suns, and stars, and systems, have been weighed\\nIn thy far-reaching balance, and the pall\\nWhich lies upon the age, long decayed.\\nHas vanished, even at the light thyself hast made.\\nBut still the eternal problem is unsolved!\\nBack o er departed years, the longing thought\\nRetraces ages ere the earth revolved;\\nBeholds the infant world before it causfht", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 119\\nThe earliest blush of primal da\\\\ or aught\\nor life had moved upon the rolling sphere\\nBeholds the long succeeding ages, fraught\\nWith myriad changes, as they each appear;\\nYet fi ids no clue to make the eternal problem clear.\\nEternity! submissive let me bow\\nBefore the awful problem of thy round.\\nO vast Eternity eternal now\\nNo ratio in the universe is found\\nTo estimate the infinite profound.\\nThe finite cannot solve the infinite;\\nAnd One alone, who knows nor mete nor bound\\nTo wisdom, love, or majesty, or might,\\nCan solve the problem of Eternity aright.\\nEdward R. Roe.\\nMY HEART LEAPS UP.\\nMy heart leaps up when I behold\\nA rainbow in the sky:\\nSo was it when my life began;\\nSo is it now I am a man;\\nSo be it when I shall be old,\\nOr let me die!\\nThe child is father of the man;\\nAnd I could wish my days to be\\nBound each to each by natural piety.\\nWilliam 1 Vordsworth", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "120 POETIC JEWELS\\nCLEOPATRA S SOLILOQUY.\\nHAT care I for the tempest? What care I for\\nthe rain?\\nIf it beat upon my bosom, would it cool its burning\\n-v ^1|v pain\\nThis pain that ne er has left me since on his heart I lay,\\nAnd sobbed my grief at parting as I d sob my soul away?\\nO Antony! Antony! Antony! when in thy circling arms\\nShall I sacrifice to Eros my glorious woman s charms,\\nAnd burn life s sweetest incense before his sacred shrine\\nWith the living fire that flashes from thine eyes into mine?\\nwhen shall I feel thy kisses rain down upon my face.\\nAs, a queen of love and beauty, I lie in thy embrace.\\nMelting melting melting, as a woman only can\\nWhen she s a willing captive in the conquering arms of man,\\nAs he towers a god above her, and to yield is not defeat,\\nFor love can own no victor, if love with love shall meet?\\n1 still have regal splendor, I still have queenly power.\\nAnd more than all unfaded is woman s glorious dower;\\nBut what care I for pleasure? what s beauty to me now.\\nSince Love no longer places his crown upon my brow?\\nI have tasted its elixir, its fire has through me flashed,\\nBut when the wine glowed brightest from my eager lip\\ntwas dashed.\\nAnd I would give all Egypt but once to feel the bliss\\nWhich thrills through all my being whene er I meet his\\nkiss;\\nThe tempest wildly rages, my hair is wet with rain,\\nBut it does not still my longing, nor cool my burning pain,\\nFor Nature s storms are nothing to the raging of my soul\\nWhen it burns with jealous frenzy beyond a queen s control.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 121\\nI fear not pale Octavia that haughty Roman dame\\nMy lion of the desert my Antony can tame.\\nI fear no Persian beauty, I fear no Grecian maid:\\nThe world holds not the woman of whom I am afraid.\\nBut I m jealous of the rapture I tasted in his kiss,\\nAnd I would not that another should share with me that\\nbliss;\\nNo joy would I deny him, let him cull it where he will,\\nSo, mistress of his bosom is Cleopatra still;\\nSo that he feels forever, when he Love s nectar sips,\\nTvvas sweeter sweeter sweeter when tasted on my\\nlips;\\nSo that all other kisses, since he has drawn in mine,\\nShall be unto my loved as water after wine.\\nAwhile let Caesar fancy Octavia s pallid charms\\nCan hold Rome s proudest consul a captive in her arms,\\nHer cold embrace but brightens the memory of mine.\\nAnd for my warm caresses he in her arms shall pine.\\nTwas not for love he sought her, but for her princely\\ndower;\\nShe brought him Caesar s friendship, she brought him\\nkingly power,\\nI should have bid him take her had he my counsel sought,\\nI ve but to smile upon him, and all her charms are naught;\\nFor I would scorn to hold him by but a single hair,\\nSave his own longing for me when I m no longer there;\\nAnd I will show you, Roman, that for one kiss from me,\\nWife fame and even honor to him shall nothing be!\\nTlirow wide the window, Eros fling perfumes o er me now,\\nAnJ bind the lotus blossoms again upon my brow,\\nThe rain has ceased its weeping, the driving storm is past.\\nAnd calm are Nature s pulses, that lately beat so fast.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "122 POETIC JEWELS\\nGone is my jealous frenzy, and Eros reigns serene,\\nThe only god e er worshiped by Egypt s haughty Queen.\\nWith Antony my loved I ll kneel before his shrine\\nTill the loves of Mars and Venus are naught to his and\\nmine;\\nAnd down through coming ages, in every land and tongue,\\nWith them shall Cleopatra and Antony be sung.\\nBurn sandal-wood and cassia, let the vapor round me\\nwreathe\\nAnd mingle with the incense the lotus blossoms breathe.\\nLet India s spicy odors, and Persia s perfumes rare,\\nBe wafted on the pinions of Egypt s fragrant air.\\nWith the sighing of the night breeze, the river s rippling\\nflow,\\nLet me hear the notes of music in cadence soft and low,\\nDraw round my couch its curtains; I d bathe my soul in\\nsleep:\\nI feel its gentle languor upon me slowly creep.\\nlet me cheat my senses with dreams of future bliss\\nIn fancy feel his presence, in fancy taste his kiss,\\nIn fancy nestle closely against his throbbing heart,\\nAnd throw my arms around him, no more no more to\\npart.\\nHush hush his spirit s pinions aie rustling in my ears;\\nHe comes upon the tempest to calm my jealous fears;\\nHe comes upon the tempest in answer to my call.\\nWife fame and even honor for me he leaves them\\nall;\\nAnd royally I ll welcome my lover to my side.\\n1 have won him I have won him from Caesar and his\\nbride.\\nMary Bayard Clarke.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "TWO DAYS SHE WANDERED.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 125\\nREUBEN AND ROSE.\\nA TALE OF ROMANCE.\\nHE darkness which hung upon Willumberg s walls\\nHad long been remember d with awe and dismay!\\nFor years not a sunbeam had play d in its halls,\\ni~ And it seem d as shut out from the regions of day!\\nThough the valleys were brighten d by many a beam,\\nYet none could the woods of the castle illume;\\nAnd the lightning which flash d on the neighboring stream\\nFlew back, as if fearing to enter the gloom!\\nOh! when shall this horrible darkness disperse?\\nSaid Willumberg s lord to the seer of the cave;\\nIt ne er can dispel, said the wizard of verse,\\nTill the bright star of chivalry s sunk in the wave!\\nAnd who was the bright star of chivalry then?\\nWho could be but Reuben, the flower of the age?\\nFor Reuben was first in the combat of men.\\nThough Youth had scarce written his name on her page.\\nFor Willumberg s daughter his bosom had beat;\\nFor Rose who was bright as the spirit of dawn,\\nWhen with wand dropping diamonds, and silvery feet,\\nIt walks o er the flowers of the mountain and lawn!\\nMust Rose, then, from Reuben so fatally sever?\\nSad, sad were the words of the man in the cave,\\nThat darkness should cover the castle forever,\\nOr Reuben be sunk in the merciless wave!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "12G POETIC JEWELS\\nShe flew to the wizard And tell me, oh tell\\nShall my Reuben no more be restored to my eyes?\\nYes, yes when a spirit shall toll the great bell\\nOf the moldering abbey, your Reuben shall rise!\\nTwice, thrice he repeated, Your Reuben shall rise!\\nAnd Rose felt a moment s release from her pain;\\nShe wiped, while she listen d, the tears from her eyes,\\nAnd she hoped she might yet see her hero again!\\nHer hero could smile at the terrors of death,\\nWhen he felt that he died for the sire of his Rose;\\nTo the Oder he flew, and there plunging beneath.\\nIn the lapse of the billows soon found his repose.\\nHow strangely the order of destiny falls!\\nNot long in the waters the warrior lay,\\nWhen a sunbeam was seen to glance over the walls!\\nAnd the castle of Willumberg bask d in the ray!\\nAll, all but the soul of the maid was in light\\nThere sorrow and terror lay gloomy and blank;\\nTwo days did she wander, and all the long night,\\nIn quest of her love, on the wide river s bank.\\nOft, oft did she pause for the toll of the bell,\\nAnd she heard but the breathings of night in the air;\\nLong, long did she gaze on the watery swell,\\nAnd she saw but the foam of the white billow there.\\nAnd often as midnight its veil would undraw,\\nAs she look d at the light of the moon in the stream.\\nShe thought twas his helmet of silver she saw.\\nAs the curl of the surge glitter d high in the beam.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 127\\nAnd now the third night was begemming the sky,\\nPoor Rose on the cold, dewy margent recHned,\\nThere wept till the tear almost froze in her eye,\\nWhen hark! twas the bell that came deep in the\\nwind.\\nShe startled, she saw, through the glimmering shade,\\nA form o er the waters in majesty glide;\\nShe knew twas her love, though his cheek was decay d,\\nAnd his helmet of silver was wash d by the tide.\\nWas this what the seer of the cave had foretold!\\nDim, dim through the phantom the moon shot a gleam;\\nTwas Reuben, but ah! he was deathly and cold.\\nAnd fleeted away like the spell of a dream!\\nTwice, thrice did he rise, and as often she thought\\nFrom the bank to embrace him, but never, ah! nev^er;\\nThen springing beneath, at a billow she caught.\\nAnd sunk to repose on its bosom forever!\\nTom Moore.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "128\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nMEASURING THE BABY.\\nE measured the riotous baby\\nAgainst the cottage wall-\\nA lily grew at the threshold,\\nAnd the boy was just as tall.\\nA royal tiger lily,\\nWith spots of purple and gold,\\nAnd a heart like a jeweled chalice,\\nThe fragrant dew to hold.\\nWithout the bluebirds whistled\\nHigh up in the old roof-trees,\\nAnd to and fro at the window\\nThe red rose rocked her bees;\\nAnd the wee pink* fists of the baby\\nWere never a moment still,\\nSnatching at shine and shadow\\nThat danced on the lattice sill.\\nHis eyes were wide as bluebells\\nHis mouth like a flower unblown\\nTwo little bare feet, like funny white mice\\nPeeped out from his snowy gown;\\nAnd we thought, with a thrill of rapture.\\nThat yet had a touch of pain,\\nWhen June rolls around with her roses.\\nWe ll measure the boy again.\\nAh me! In a darkened chamber,\\nWith the sunshine shut away.\\nThrough tears that fell like a bitter rain\\nWe measured the boy to-day;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 129\\nAnd the little bare feet that were dimpled\\nAnd sweet as a budding rose,\\nLay side by side together,\\nIn the hush of a long repose.\\nUp from the dainty pillow,\\nWhite as the risen dawn,\\nThe fair little face lay smiling,\\nWith the light of Heaven thereon\\nAnd the dear little hands, like rose leaves\\nDropped from a rose, lay still,\\nNever to snatch at the sunshine\\nThat crept to the shrouded sill.\\nWe measured the sleeping baby\\nWith ribbons white as snow.\\nFor the shining rosewood casket\\nThat waited him below;\\nAnd out of the darkened chamber\\nWe went with a childless moan\\nTo the height of the sinless angels\\nOur little one had grown.\\nEmma Alice Broiviie.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "i 30 P OETIG JE WEL S\\nA LONDON IDYL.\\n^EY, rain, rain, rain!\\nIt patters down the glass and on the sill,\\nAnd splashes underneath, along the lane\\nThen gives a kind of scream, and lies quite still;\\nOne likes to hear it, tho when one is ill;\\nRain, rain, rain, rain!\\nHey, how it pours and pours!\\nRain, rain, rain, rain!\\nA weary day for poor girls out-o doors.\\nAh, don t! that kind of comfort makes me cry,\\nAnd, Parson, since I m bad, I want to die.\\nThe roaring of the street,\\nThe tramp, tramp, tramp of feet.\\nThe sobbing, sobbing of the weary Rain,\\nHave gone into the aching of my brain.\\nI m lost and weak, and can no longer bear\\nTo wander like a shadow here and there\\nAs useless as a stone tired out and sick!\\nSo that they put me down to slumber quick,\\nIt does not matter where.\\nNo one will miss me; all will hurry by,\\nAnd never cast a thought on one so low;\\nFine gentles miss fine ladies when they go,\\nBut folk care nought for such a thing as I.\\nTis bad, I know, to talk like that -too bad!\\nJoe, tho he s often hard, is strong and true\\n(Ah, Joe meant well!) and there s the baby too!\\nBut I m so tired and sad.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 131\\nI m glad it was a boy, sir, very glad,\\nA man can fight along, can say his say,\\nIs not looked down upon, holds up his head,\\nAnd at a push can always earn his bread;\\nMen have the best of it, in many a way.\\nBut ah! tis hard indeed for girls to keep\\nDecent and honest, tramping in a town,\\nTheir best but bad made light of beaten down,\\nForever wearying, wearying for sleep.\\nIf they grow hard, go wrong, from bad to badder,\\nWhy, Parson dear, they re happier being blind:\\nThey get no thanks for being good and kind\\nThe better that they are, they feel the sadder!\\nNineteen! Nineteen!\\nOnly nineteen, and yet so old, so old;\\nI feel like fifty, Parson I have been\\nSo wicked, I suppose, and life s so cold!\\nAh, cruel are the wind and rain and snow.\\nAnd I ve been out for years among them all:\\nI scarce remember being w^eak and small\\nLike Baby there it was so long ago.\\nIt does not seem that I was born, but woke\\nOne day in a dark room\\nHigh up among the smoke,\\nAnd trembling at the roaring of the gloom\\nThat hung around me (for you could not see\\nThe people from our window only stone\\nDeep walls, black pits, and lanes tho drearily\\nYou heard the deep streets groan);\\nAnd I was all alone, and looking out.\\nAnd listening in a dream;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "132 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd far between the housetops was a gleam\\nOf water winding silver-like about.\\nThat was the River. It looked cool and deep,\\nAnd as I watch d, I felt it slipping past,\\nAs if it smoothly swept along in sleep,\\nGleaming and gliding fast;\\nAnd so I lean d upon the sill and hearken d\\nTo the strange hum, while all the roofs became\\nCover d with thin, sick flame,\\nAnd with a dusky thrill the River darken d\\nTill coldly, coldly, on the roofs there lighten d\\nA pale, sad silver light from heaven shed,\\nAnd with a sweep that made me sick and frighten d\\nThe Yellow Moon roU d up above my head\\nAnd down below me groan d the noise and trade\\nAnd O! I felt alive, and was afraid.\\nAnd cold, and hungry, shrieking out for bread.\\nAll that is like a dream! It don t seem true/\\nFather was dead and mother left, you see,\\nTo work for little brother Ned and me,\\nAnd up among the roofs we grew and grew;\\nLock d in whole days high up, while mother char d\\nIn people s houses; only now and then\\nWe slipt away into the streets, and stared\\nAt the big crowds of women and of men.\\nAnd I was six, but Ned was only three,\\nAnd thin and weak and weary; and one day,\\nWhile mother was away.\\nHe put his little head upon my knee.\\nAnd went to sleep, and would not stir a limb,\\nBut look d quite strange and old,\\nFor when I touch d him, shook him, spoke to him.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 133\\nHe smiled and grew so cold\\nThen I was frighten d and cried out, and none\\nCould hear me, and I sat and nursed his head,\\nWatching the smoky window while the sun\\nPeep d in upon his face and made it red;\\nAnd I began to cry; till mother came.\\nKnelt down and scream d, and named the great GOD s\\nname,\\nAnd told me he was dead.\\nWell, when she put his night-gown on, and weeping\\nPut him among the rags upon his bed,\\nI thought that brother Ned was only sleeping.\\nAnd took his little hand and felt no fear;\\nBut, when the place grew gray and cold and drear,\\nAnd the round moon came creeping, creeping, creeping,\\nOver the roofs and put a silver shade\\nAll round the cold, cold bed where he was laid,\\nI sobb d and was afraid.\\nAh, yes, it s like a dream! for time pass d by,\\nAnd I went out into the smoky air.\\nFruit-selling, Parson trudging wet or dry\\nWinter and summer \u00e2\u0080\u0094weary, cold, and bare;\\nAnd when old mother laid her down to die,\\nAnd parish buried her, I did not cry.\\nAnd hardly seem d to care;\\nI was too hungry and too dull; beside,\\nThe roar o streets had made me dry as dust;\\nIt took me all my time, howe er I tried.\\nTo keep my limbs alive and earn a crust;\\nI had no time for weeping.\\nAnd when I was not out amid the roar,\\nOr standing frozen at the play-house door.\\nWhy, I was coil d upon my straw, and sleeping.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "134 POETIC JEWELS\\nAh, pence were hard to gain!\\nSome girls were pretty, too, but I was plain!\\nFine ladies never stopp d and looked and smil d,\\nAnd gave me money for my face s sake;\\nThat made me hard and angry when a child,\\nBut now it thrills my heart and makes it ache!\\nThe pretty ones, poor things, what could they do.\\nFighting and starving in the wicked town,\\nBut go from bad to badder down, down, down\\nBeing so poor and yet so pretty too?\\nNever could bear the like of that ah, no!\\nBetter have starved outright than gone so low!\\nFor often late at night\\nA face that I had known when mild and meek\\nPass d by with fearful smile and painted cheek,\\nGleam d in the gas, and faded out of sight.\\nBut I ve no call to boast. I might have been\\nAs wicked, Parson, dear, in my distress,\\nBut for your friend you know the one I mean?\\nThe tall, pale lady in the mourning dress.\\nThough we were cold at first, that wore away\\nShe was so mild and young.\\nAnd had so soft a tongue.\\nAnd eyes to sweeten what she loved to say.\\nShe never seem d to scorn one, no, not she,\\nAnd (what was best) she seem d as sad as me!\\nNot one of those that make a girl feel base.\\nAnd call her names, and talk of her disgrace.\\nAnd frighten one with thoughts of flaming Hell\\nAnd fierce LORD GOD with black and angry brow\\nBut soft and mild, and sensible as well,\\nAnd O I loved her, and I love her now.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "FOE TIC JEWELS 135\\nShe did me good for many and many a day\\nMore good than pence could ever do, I swear,\\nFor she was poor, with little pence to spare\\nLearn d me to read and quit low words and pray.\\nAnd, Parson, tho I never understood\\nHow such a life as mine was meant for good,\\nAnd could not understand\\nHow one she said was wicked ever could\\nGo to your better land\\nAmong a troop so grand,\\nI liked to hear her talk of such a place,\\nAnd thought of all the angels she was best,\\nBecause her soft voice soothed me, and her face\\nMade my words gentle, put my heart at rest.\\nAh! sir, twas very lonesome night and day,\\nSave when the sweet Miss came, I was alone:\\nMoved on and hunted thro the streets of stone.\\nAnd even in dreams afraid to rest or stay.\\nThen the girls had lads to work and strive for,\\nI envied them, and did not know twas wrong,\\nAnd often, very often, used to long\\nFor some one I could like and keep alive for.\\nMarry? Not they!\\nThey can t afford to be so good, you know;\\nBut many of them, tho they step astray.\\nIndeed don t mean to sin so much, or go\\nAgainst what s decent. Only tis their way.\\nAnd many might do worse than that, may be.\\nIf they had ne er a one to fill a thought\\nIt sounds half wicked, but poor girls like me\\nMust sin a little, to be good in aught.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "13G POETIC JEWELS\\nSo I was glad when I began to see\\nThat costermongering Joe liad fancied me;\\nAnd when, one night, he took me to the play,\\nOver on Surrey side, and ofifer d fair,\\nThat we should take a little room and share\\nOur earnings, why, I could not answer nay\\nAnd that s a year ago; and tho I m bad,\\nI ve been as true to Joe as girl could be\\nI don t complain a bit of Joe, dear lad,\\nJoe never, never meant but well; and we\\nHave had as fresh and fair a time, I think,\\nAs one could hope, since we are both so low:\\nJoe likes me, never gave me push or blow,\\nWhen sober only he was wild in drink.\\nBut then, we don t mind beating when a man\\nIs angry, if he likes us and keeps straight,\\nWorks for his bread and does the best he can;\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nTis being left and slighted that we hate.\\nAnd so the baby s come, and I shall die!\\nAnd tho tis hard to leave poor Baby here.\\nWhere folk will think him bad, and all s so drear,\\nThe great Lord God knows better far than I.\\nAh, don t! tis kindly, but it pains me so!\\nYou say I m wicked, and I want to go!\\nGod s kingdom, Parson, dear? Ah nay, ah nay!\\nThat must be like the country which I fear;\\nI saw the country once, one summer day.\\nAnd I would rather die in London here.\\nFor I was sick of hunger, cold and strife,\\nAnd took a sudden fancy in my head\\nTo try the country, and to earn my bread", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 137\\nOut among fields, where, I had heard, one s life\\nWas easier and brighter. So, that day,\\nI took my basket up and stole away,\\nEarly at morning. As I went along.\\nTrembling and loath to leave the busy place,\\nI felt that I was doing something wrong,\\nAnd fear d to look policemen in the face.\\nAnd all was dim: the streets were gray and wet\\nAfter a rainy night: and all was still;\\nI held my shawl around me with a chill.\\nAnd dropt my eyes from every face I met;\\nUntil the streets began to fade, the road\\nGrew fresh and clean and wide,\\nFine houses where the gentlefolk abode,\\nAnd gardens full of flowers, on every side:\\nThat made me walk the quicker on, on, on\\nAs if I were asleep with half-shut eyes.\\nAnd all at once I saw to my surprise\\nThe houses of the gentlefolk were gone,\\nAnd I was standing still,\\nShading my face upon a high green hill.\\nAnd the bright sun was blazing.\\nAnd all the blue above me seem d to melt\\nTo burning, flashing gold, wliile I was gazing\\nOn the great smoky cloud where I had dwelt.\\nI ll ne er forget that day. All was so bright\\nAnd strange. Upon the grass around my feet\\nThe rain had hung a million drops of light\\nThe air, too, was so clear and warm and sweet\\nIt seem d a sin to breathe it. All around\\nWere hills and fields, and trees that trembled thro\\nA burning, blazing fire of gold and blue;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "138 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd there was not a sound,\\nSave a bird singing, singing, and a kind\\nOf sighing from the grass upon the ground,\\nI turn d away, like one grown deaf and blind.\\nThen, with my heavy hand upon my chest,\\nBecause the bright air pain d me trembling, sighing,\\nI stole into a dewy field to rest,\\nAnd O the green, green grass where I was lying\\nWas fresh and living and the birds sang loud.\\nOut of a golden cloud\\nAnd I was looking up at him and crying\\nThe hours they slipt away; and by and by\\nThe sun grew red, big shadows fill d the sky,\\nThe air grew damp with dew.\\nAnd th2 dark night wa? coming down, I knew.\\nWell, I was more afraid than ever then,\\nAnd I felt that I should die in such a place;\\nSo back to London town 1 turned my face.\\nAnd crept into the great, black streets again;\\nAnd when I breathed the smoke and heard the roar.\\nWhy, I was better, for in London here\\nMy heart was busy, and I felt no fear.\\nI never saw the country any more.\\nAnd I have staid in London well or ill,\\nI dared not stay out yonder if I could,\\nFor one feels dead, and all looks pure and good\\nI could not bear a life so bright and still.\\nAll that I want is sleep,\\nUnder the flags and stones, so deep, so deep!\\nGod won t be hard on one so mean, but He\\nPerhaps will let a tired girl slumber sound\\nThere in the deep, cool darkness underground", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 139\\nAnd I shall waken up in time, may be,\\nBetter and stronger, not afraid to see\\nThe great Still Light that folds Him round and round\\nSee! there s a bit of sunshine thro the pane\\nHow cool and moist it looks amid the rain!\\nI like to hear the splashing of the drops\\nOn the house tops,\\nAnd the loud humming of the folks that go\\nAlong the streets below!\\nI like the smoke and roar I am so bad\\nThey make a low one hard and still her cares\\nThere s Joe! I hear his foot upon the stairs!\\nHe must be wet, poor lad\\nHe will be angry, like enough, to find\\nAnother little life to clothe and keep,\\nBut show him baby. Parson- speak him kind\\nAnd tell him Doctor thinks I m going to sleep.\\nA hard, hard life is his he need be strong\\nAnd rough, to earn his bread and get along;\\nI think he will be sorry when I go,\\nAnd leave the little one and him behind.\\nI hope he ll see another to his mind\\nTo keep him straight and tidy. Poor old Joe!\\nRobert Buchanan.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "140\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nTHE FROGS.\\nFor Recitation zait/i Imitations.\\nHY should the birds have all the words\\nOf song and praise in poets lays,\\nWhile all unstrung the lyre has hung,\\n^And all incog, the tuneful frog\\nIs croaking all his days?\\nCroaking with a croak, cro-ack, croak\\nTrilling with a trill, ter-ril, trill\\nJoking with d,joke, jo-ack, joke\\nWaking every echoing hill\\nWith his merry music still\\nChirping in the tree-tops all the night\\nChirping, chirruping, chirping I\\nNever in the sunshine s gairish light\\nChirping.\\nHiding from each curious eye,\\nDappled green and gray they lie.\\nSeeming, as we pass them by,\\nOnly moss-tufts gray and dry.\\nStill, when night-fall s shades appear,\\nWakes the tree-frog s piping clear\\nChirp chirp chirruping.\\nWhen the spring rains fill the pond;\\nWhen the wild ducks vagabond,\\nFly to regions far beyond\\nHear the merry serenaders!\\nNestling groups along the shore,\\nForth their trilling concert pour\\nTrilling, trilling, trilling more\\nSpring-time s evening merry-makers.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 341\\nThen, when summer on the bog\\nDecks with verdure every log,\\nSee the sunshine-loving frog,\\nSitting sitting, like a ghoul\\nTill some stealthy step comes nigh;\\nThen, with single gurgling cry.\\nLeaping with a quick good-bye,\\nCJuig! he sinks into the pool.\\nSitting in the green lagoon\\nMusing on the evening moon,\\nBody half immersed they lie,\\nGlinting with each glimmering eye.\\nTuning for the concert s din\\nNever ready to begin!\\nEach one anxious to prepare\\nTwanging never two together!\\nTzvajtginghere, and tzvangifig ihcrfi..\\nLike wet strings in rainy weather.\\nAll of those are known and heard.\\nCommon as a household word.\\nOthers rarely trill or mutter,\\nSounds no other throat can utter\\nSoldiers camped by Bayou Pierre,\\nListening for the foeman there.\\nHeard discordant cow-bells near\\nHeard them tinkling sharp and clear\\nForth, at risk of death or wounding,\\nCrept they where the bells were sounding\\nSearched they all the brake surrounding;\\nListening still, and still confounding\\nOn White River, Arkansas.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "142 POETIC JEWELS\\nEvery tingle in the bog;\\nTinkled by the cow-bell frog\\nTingling, tingling in the bog\\nOnly by the cow-bell frog.\\nGiant of the Rana race,\\nLo, the bull-frog, grave and grim!\\nSee his v/onted lurking place\\nBy the pool s o er-shaded rim\\nBy the stagnant bayou bank\\nBy the river or lagoon\\nBy the margins, drear and dank,\\nWhere he nightly bays the moon.\\nEyes like diamonds set in gold;\\nNeckless head on body cold;\\nThroat like pouch of pelican;\\nArms and legs which mimic man;\\nDappled skin, black, gray, and green\\nUglier elf was never seen!\\nYet, when evening shades appear,\\nHow he startles every ear!\\nHow he times the loud response\\nThrills a hundred throats at once\\nEchoing deep in concert true\\nBool-yer-o-boo! bool-yer-o-boo! bool-yer-o-boo!\\nEdzvard R. Roe.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 143\\nTHE COTTER S SATURDAY NIGHT.\\nINSCRIBED TO R. AIKEN, ESQ.\\nLet not ambition mock their useful toil,\\nTheir homely joys and destiny obscure;\\nNor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,\\nThe short but simple annals of the poor.\\nGray.\\nI.\\n,Y loved, my honor d, much respected friend,\\nNo mercenary bard his homage pays:\\nWith honest pride I scorn each selfish end\\nMy dearest meed, a friend s esteem and praise.\\nTo you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,\\nThe lowly train in life s sequester d scene;\\nThe native feelings strong, the guileless ways;\\nWhat Aiken in a cottage would have been\\nAh! tho his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween.\\nn.\\nNovember chill blaws loud wi angry sugh\\nThe short ning winter-day is near a close;\\nThe miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh;\\nThe black ning trains o craws to their repose;\\nThe toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes,\\nThis night his weekly moil is at an end\\nCollects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes\\nHoping the morn in ease and rest to spend.\\nAnd weary, o er the moor, his course does homeward\\nbend.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "144 POETIC JE WELS\\nTil.\\nAt length his lonely cot appears in view,\\nBeneath the shelter of an aged tree;\\nTh expectant wee things, toddlin stacher through\\nTo meet their dad, wi flichterin noise and glee.\\nHis wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily,\\nHis clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie s smile,\\nThe lisping infant prattling on his knee,\\nDoes a his weary carking cares beguile.\\nAnd makes him quite forget his labor and his toil.\\nIV.\\nBelyve the elder bairns come drapping in,\\nAt service out amang the farmers roun\\nSome ca the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin\\nA cannie errand to a neibor town;\\nTheir eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,\\nIn youthfu bloom, love sparklin in her e e,\\nComes hame, perhaps, to show a bra new gown,\\nOr deposit her sair-won penny fee.\\nTo help her parents dear, if they in hardship be,\\nV.\\nWi joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet.\\nAn each for other s weelfare kindly spiers:\\nThe social hours, swift wing d, unnotic d fleet;\\nEach tells the uncos that he sees or hears;\\nThe parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;\\nAnticipation forward points the view.\\nThe mother, wi her needle an her shears.\\nGars auld claes look amaist as weel s the new;\\nThe father mixes a wi admonition due.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "THE SPIRIT OF NIGHT.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 147\\nVI.\\nTheir masters an their mistress command,\\nThe younkers a are warned to obey;\\nAnd mind their labors wi an eydent hand,\\nAn ne er, tho out o sight, to jauk or play;\\nAn oh, be sure to fear the Lord alvvay!\\nAn mind your duty, duly, morn an night!\\nLest in temptation s path ye gang astray,\\nImplore His counsel and assisting might:\\nThey never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!\\nVII.\\nBut, hark! a rap comes gently to the door.\\nJenny, wha kens the meanin o the same,\\nTells how a neibor lad cam o er the moor.\\nTo do some errands and convoy her hame.\\nThe wily mother sees the conscious flame\\nSparkle in Jenny s e e, and flush her cheek;\\nWi heart-struck anxious care inquires his name.\\nWhile Jenny hafilins is afraid to speak;\\nWeel pleas d the mother hears it s nae wild, worthless rake.\\nVIII.\\nWi kindly welcome, Jenny brmgs him ben;\\nA strappin youth; he taks the mother s e e;\\nBlithe Jenny sees the visit s no ill ta en;\\nThe father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.\\nThe youngster s artless heart o erflovvs wi joy.\\nBut blate and laithtu scarce can weel behave;\\nThe mother, wi a woman s wiles, can spy\\nWhat makes the youth sae bashfu an sae grave;\\nWeel pleas d to think her bairn s respected like the lave.\\n9", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "148 POETIC JEWELS\\nIX.\\nOh happy love! where love like this is found!\\nOh heartfelt raptures! bliss beyond compare!\\nI ve paced this weary mortal round,\\nAnd sage experience bids me this declare:\\nIf Heav n a draught of heavenly pleasure spare,\\nOne cordial in this melancholy vale,\\nTis when a youthful, loving, modest pair\\nIn other s arms breathe out the tender tale,\\nBeneath the milk-whitethorn that scents the ev ning gale.\\nX.\\nIs there, in human form, that bears a heart,\\nA wretch, a villain, lost to love and truth,\\nThat can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,\\nBetray sweet Jenny s unsuspecting youth?\\nCurse on his perjured arts! dissembling smooth!\\nAre honor, virtue, conscience, all exil d?\\nIs there no pity, no relenting ruth,\\nPoints to the parents fondling o er their child,\\nThen paints the ruin d maid, and their distraction wild?\\nXI.\\nBut now the supper crowns their simple board.\\nThe halesome parritch, chief o Scotia s food;\\nThe soupe their only hawkie does afford.\\nThat yont the hallan snugly chows her cood;\\nThe dame brings forth, in complimental mood.\\nTo grace the lad, her weel-hain d kebbuck fell.\\nAn aft he s prest, an aft he ca s it guid;\\nThe frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell.\\nHow twas a towmond auld, sin lint was i the bell.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 149\\nXII.\\nThe cheerfu supper done, wi serious face.\\nThey round the ingle, form a circle wide;\\nThe sire turns o er, wi patriarchal grace,\\nThe big ha -Bible, ance his father s pride;\\nHis bonnet rev rently is laid aside,\\nHis lyart haffets wearing thin an bare:\\nThose strains that once did sweet in Zion glide.\\nHe wales a portion with judicious care;\\nAnd Let us worship God! he says, with solemn air.\\nXIII.\\nThey chant their artless notes in simple guise:\\nThey tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim;\\nPerhaps Dundee s wild-warbling measures rise,\\nOr plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name:\\nOr noble Elgin beats the heav n ward flame,\\nThe sweetest far of Scotia s holy lays:\\nCompared with these, Italian trills are tame;\\nThe tickl d ears no heart-felt raptures raise;\\nNae unison hae they with our Creator s praise.\\nXIV.\\nThe priest-like father reads the sacred page\\nHow Abram was the friend of GOD on high;\\nOr Moses bade eternal warfare wage\\nWith Amalek s ungracious progeny,\\nOr how the royal bard did groaning lie\\nBeneath the stroke of Heav ns avenging ire;\\nOr Job s pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;\\nOr rapt Isaiah s wild, seraphic fire;\\nOr other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "150 POETIC JEWELS\\nXV.\\nPerhaps the Christian volume is the theme\\nHow guiltless blood for guilty men was shed\\nHow He who bore in Heaven the second name,\\nHad not on earth whereon to lay his head\\nHow his first followers and servants sped\\nThe precepts sage they wrote to many a land\\nHow he, who lone in Patmos banished,\\nSaw in the sun a mighty angel stand,\\nAnd heard great Bab lon s doom pronounced by Heaven s\\ncommand.\\nXVI.\\nThen, kneeling down, to Heaven s Eternal Kinc;,\\nThe saint, the father, and the husband prays:\\nHope springs exulting on triumphant wing,\\nThat thus they all shall meet in future days;\\nThere ever bask in uncreated rays.\\nNo more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,\\nTogether hymning their Creator s praise.\\nIn such society, yet still more dear;\\nWhile circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.\\nXVII.\\nCompar d with this, how poor Religion s pride.\\nIn all the pomp of method and of art.\\nWhen men display to congregations wide\\nDevotion s ev ry grace, except the heart!\\nThe Power, incensed, the pageant will desert.\\nThe pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;\\nBut haply, in some cottage tar apart.\\nMay hear, well pleas d, the language of the soul;\\nAnd in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 151\\nXVIII.\\nThen homeward all take off their sev ral way;\\nThe youngling cottagers retire to rest;\\nThe parent-pair their secret homage pay,\\nAnd proffer up to Heaven the warm request,\\nThat He who stills the raven s clam rous nest,\\nAnd decks the lily fair in flow ry pride.\\nWould, in the way his wisdom sees the best.\\nFor them and for their little ones provide;\\nBut, chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.\\nXIX.\\nFrom scenes like these old Scotia s grandeur springs.\\nThat makes her loved at home, revered abroad:\\nPrinces and lords are but the breath of kings,\\nAn honest man s the noblest work of God!\\nAnd certes, in fair Virtue s heav nly road,\\nThe cottage leaves the palace far behind:\\nWhat is a lordling s pomp? a cumbrous load.\\nDisguising oft the wretch of human kind,\\nStudied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined!\\nXX.\\nOh, Scotia! my dear, my native soil!\\nFor whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent.\\nLong may thy hardy sons of rustic toil\\nBe blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!\\nAnd, oh, may Heav n their simple lives prevent\\nFrom luxury s contagion, weak and vile!\\nThen, howe er crowns and coronets be rent,\\nA virtuous populace may rise the while,\\nAnd stand a wall of fire around their much-lov d Isle.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "152 POETIC JEWELS\\nXXI.\\nOh, Thou! who pour d the patriotic tide,\\nThat stream d thro Wallace s undaunted heart:\\nWho dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,\\nOr nobly die, the second glorious part,\\n(The patriot s God peculiarly thou art,\\nHis friend, inspirer, guardian and reward!)\\nOh, never, never Scotia s realm desert;\\nBut still the patriot and the patriot bard\\nIn bright succession raise, her ornament and guard!\\nRobert Burns.\\nCIVIL WAR.\\nIFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot\\nStraight at the heart of yon prowling vidette;\\nRing me a ball in the glittering spot\\nThat shines on his breast like an amulet!\\nAh, captain! here goes for a fine drawn bead,\\nThere s music around when my barrel s in tune!\\nCrack! went the rifle, the messenger sped.\\nAnd dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon.\\nNow, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch\\nFrom your victim some trinket to handsel first blood\\nA button, a loop, or that luminous patch\\nThat gleams in the moon like a diamond stud.\\nOh captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track,\\nWhen I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette.\\nFor he looked so like you, as he lay on his back.\\nThat my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 153\\nBut I snatched off the trinket this locket of gold;\\nAn inch from the center my lead broke its way,\\nScarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold,\\nOf a beautiful lady in bridal array.\\nHa! rifleman, fling me the locket! tis she,\\nMy brother s young bride and the fallen dragoon\\nWas her husband Hush! soldier, twas Heaven s decree,\\nWe must bury him there, by the light of the moon!\\nBut, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite;\\nWar is a virtue weakness a sin;\\nThere s a lurking and loping around us to-night;\\nLoad again, rifleman, keep your hand in!\\nAnonymo?is.\\nHOW TO BECOME CONSEQUENTIAL\\nA BROW austere, a circumspective eye,\\nA frequent shrug of the os Jiunieri,\\nA nod significant, a stately gait,\\nA blust ring manner, and a tone of weight,\\nA smile sarcastic, an expressive stare;\\nAdapt all these as time and place will bear.\\nThen rest assur d that those of little sense\\nWill set you down a man of consequence.\\nAnonymous,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "154 POETIC JEWELS\\nAN ODE TO THE RAIN.\\n[Composed before daylight, on the morning appointed for the departure of\\na very worthy, l)ut not very pleasant, visitor; whom it was feared the rain\\nmight detain.]\\nI.\\nKNOW it is dark; and, though I have lain\\nAwake, as I guess, an hour or twain.\\nI have not once opened the Hds of my eyes,\\nBut I he in the dark, as a bhnd man Hes.\\nRain! that I he hstening to,\\nYou ve but a doleful sound at best;\\n1 owe you little thanks, tis true.\\nFor breaking thus my needful rest!\\nYet if, as soon as it is light,\\nO Rain, you will but take your flight,\\nI ll neither rail, nor malice keep,\\nThough sick and sore for want of sleep;\\nBut only now, for this one day,\\nDo go, dear Rain! do go away!\\nII.\\nO Rain! with your dull two-fold sound.\\nThe clash hard by, and the murmur all round!\\nYou know, if you know aught, that we,\\nBoth night and day, but ill agree:\\nFor days, and months, and almost years,\\nHave limped on through this vale of tears,\\nSince body of mine, and rainy weather.\\nHave lived on easy terms together.\\nYet if, as soon as it is light,\\nO Rain! you, will but take your flight.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "eOETlC JE WELS 135\\nThough you should come again to-morrow,\\nAnd bring with you both pain and sorrow;\\nThough stomach should sicken and knees should\\nswell\\nI ll nothing speak of you but well.\\nBut only now for this one day,\\nDo go, dear Rain! do go away.\\nIII.\\nDear Rain! I ne er refused to say\\nYou re a good creature in your way,\\nNay, I could write a book myself\\nWould fit a parson s lower shelf,\\nShowing, how very good you are\\nWhat then? Sometimes it must be fair!\\nAnd if sometimes, why not to-day?\\nDo go, dear Rain! do go away!\\nIV.\\nDear Rain! if I ve been cold and shy.\\nTake no offense! I ll tell you why.\\nA dear old Friend e en now is here.\\nAnd with him came my sister dear;\\nAfter long absence now first met,\\nLong months by pain and grief beset\\nWe three dear friends! in truth, we groan\\nImpatiently to be alone.\\nWe three, you mark! and not one more!\\nThe strong wish makes my spirit sore.\\nWe have so much to talk about,\\nSo many sad things to let out;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "156 POETIC JEWELS\\nSo many tears in our eye-corners,\\nSitting like little Jacky Horners\\nIn short, as soon as it is day,\\nDo go, dear Rain! do go away!\\nV.\\nAnd this I ll swear to you, dear Rain!\\nWhenever you shall come again.\\nBe you as dull as e er you could\\n(And by the by tis understood,\\nYou re not so pleasant as you re good),\\nYet knowing well your worth and place,\\nI ll welcome you with cheerful face;\\nAnd though you staid a week or more,\\nWe re ten times duller than before.\\nYet with kind heart, and right good will,\\nI ll sit and listen to you still;\\nNor should you go away, dear Rain,\\nUninvited to remain,\\nBut only now, for this one day,\\nDo go, dear Rain! do go away!\\nSamuel Taylor Coleridge.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 157\\nTHE OLD STAGER S STORY.\\nH, good evening to you again! So you ve\\nbrought the proof then, eh?\\nMacbeth, Mr. Hubert Villers. Yes, that s\\nbetter, I must say.\\nNow, what ll you take! Hot whisky? Right! What,\\nho there, Polly, my dear!\\nTwo fours of Irish warm for me and this other gentleman\\nhere.\\nNot half bad tipple, is it, my boy? Tain t often I drink\\nfrom choice,\\nBut I fancy a drop of Irish warm softens and mellers the\\nvoice:\\nSo you liked my Claud last night, you say? Well, tis\\nfairish they all allow;\\nBut I m getting a bit too old and fat for the lover business\\nnow.\\nAh, well, I mustn t complain, I suppose! I can stick to\\nthe heavy line,\\nAnd I ve got a few browns put by, you know, in that old\\nstocking o mine;\\nThough, mind you, with a company near a dozen strong,\\nor quite,\\nIf business is slack, tis a tightish fit when it comes to\\nSaturday night.\\nSee some queer things, we traveling folks? Well, yes,\\nthat s perfectly true:\\nWhy, twas only now while sitting here, smoking and\\nwaiting for you,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "158 POETIC JEWELS\\nI was thinking over a curious scene you may have heard\\nabout,\\nThat shows how the real thing after all beats acting out-\\nand-out!\\nI know it s true, for it all took place under my eyes, you\\nknow:\\nLet s see, twas at yes, at Doncaster about two years\\nago,\\nMe and the missus was sitting down at our lodgin s one\\nday at tea,\\nWhen the slavey told me a lady had called, and wanted to\\nspeak to me,\\nShow ner up here, I says, for I thought, tis one of our\\nfolks look d round\\nTo ask me something about to-night but I was wrong, I\\nfound;\\nFor there entered, blushing up to her eyes, shrinking,\\ntremulous, coy,\\nA lady Td never seen before, with a charming little boy.\\nA beautiful blonde she was, not more than two and twenty\\nor so.\\nWith witching eyes of a lustrous brown, but ah, how full\\nof woe!\\nAnd she and her boy were dressed in black, and she wore\\nin mournful mood\\nOn her flaxen hair, that was tinged with gold, the weeds\\nof widowhood.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 159\\nShe took the chair I gave her, and spoke in a low, sweet\\nvoice\\nI could see that she was a lady born, she seemed so gentle\\nand nice;\\nShe d had some knowledge of the stage as an amateur, she\\nsaid,\\nAnd could I give her something to do to find her boy in\\nbread\\nO that s how the wind lays, is it? I thought. Well,\\np r aps I might do worse:\\nIf she only acts as well as she looks, she d nicely line my\\npurse;\\nAnd I took good stock of her as she sat with her boy\\nbeside her chair,\\nAnd stroked with dainty, tremulous hand his bonny golden\\nhair.\\nBit by bit her story came out. Long back her mother had\\ndied,\\nAnd left her, an only child, to be her father s darling and\\npride;\\nHe was in the law, and thought to be rich, and was held\\nin high repute;\\nBut, ah! he died a ruined man, and left her destitute.\\nThen the only relative she had an aunt, who was well-\\nto-do\\nHad taken her in, and had found for her a wealthly suitor,\\ntoo.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "160 POETIC JEWELS\\nBut she loved another a sailor lad who, like herself,\\nwas poor;\\nAnd when they married, her haughty aunt had spurned\\nher from her door\\nThey were very happy at first, she said, and her voice was\\ntearful and low,\\nBut, O, she had lost her husband too he was drown d\\nfour months ago;\\nHis ship was wrecked, and all were lost; and now, in her\\nneed and care,\\nShe d no one left in all the world, but her little Charlie\\nthere!\\nAnd here she drooped her head, poor girl, and her voice\\nwas choked with sighs\\nHem, hem! confound the smoke; how it gets in a fellow s\\nthroat and eyes!\\nThen she finished her tale: She felt at first all stunned\\nand dazed, she said;\\nAnd even to think aught but of him seemed treachery to\\nthe dead.\\nBut by-and-by for the sake of her boy, now doubly pre-\\ncious and dear,\\nShe nerved herself to look beyond to the future that seemed\\nso drear:\\nShe thought of a governess place at last, but then they\\nwould have to part.\\nAnd to give up her only darling now would almost break\\nher heart!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS IGl\\nLittle by little her things had gone to meet their daily need,\\nTill her home too had to be given up, and all seemed lost\\nindeed;\\nThen she thought of how she loved the stage in the\\nhappy Long Ago,\\nAnd how well she played as an amateur at least they\\ntold her so.\\nShe d called at all the theaters she knew, but twas still the\\nsame old tale\\nA novice had no chance at all where even vet rans fail;\\nThen some one had told her to come to me, and she d\\ntraveled here to-day\\nTo see if I could take her on, in however humble a way.\\nI should find her quick and willing, she said, in all I wanted\\ndone;\\nAnd all she wanted was lodging and food for her and her\\nlittle one:\\nShe d nothing left but her wedding-ring and one poor\\nhalf-a-crown,\\nAnd, O, there was only the work-house, if and here ^he\\nquite broke down.\\nWell, there, the parsons give it sometimes to we poor\\nplayers hot.\\nBut whatever our faults may be, my boy, we ain t a hard-\\nhearted lot!\\nThere was the missis a-crying too, with the little kid on\\nher knee,\\nAnd I well this weeping business, somehow, always gits\\nover me!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "1 02 POETIC JE WELS\\nAnd the cad of it was that I took her on, as a super, so to\\nspeak,\\nAnd found her board and lodging with us, and a shilling\\nor two a week.\\nShe helped the missis in different ways, and did it capi-\\ntally, too.\\nAnd we sent her on in little parts where she hadn t much\\nto do.\\nBut a quicker study I never knew, and she d something\\nbetter and higher\\nI could see that she was an actress born the woman had\\npassion, fire!\\nShe took with the public from the first, and with her sweet\\nyoung face,\\nAnd passion, and power, and we gave her soon the leading\\nlady s place.\\nSome of our ladies was jealous-like when they see her\\ntaking the lead.\\nAnd used to sneer at her ring and weeds, and mutter,\\nMrs. indeed!\\nBut she was so gentle, obliging, meek, this soon wore off\\nit did,\\nAnd they all of em got to love her at last, and to almost\\nworship the kid.\\nShe seemed transformed with passion and power when\\nonce she got on the stage,\\nA.nd Mrs. Mowbray, as she was called, came to be quite\\nthe rage;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS l(i,}\\n:3hc d only to show herself for the cheers to thunder out,\\nand lor\\nShe always was good for three recalls of a night, and often\\nmore!\\nTwas the best day s work I ever did when I lent her a help\\ning hand:\\nBy Jove, sir, as Constance in King JoJiii that woman was\\nsomething grand!\\nAnd as for Ophelia, where she sings that song before she\\ndies,\\nHardened old stager as I am, it brought the tears to iry\\neyes.\\nOne night I happened to be in the front when she was\\nextra fine;\\nTwas in East Lynnc, and she d justcomeon, with her boy,\\nas Madame Vine:\\nShe s supposed, as the Lady Isabel, to have wronged her\\nhusband and fled.\\nBut takes the governess place disguised, after he thinks\\nshe s dead.\\nShe d got to the crowning scene of all, where the mother\\nlongs to stretch\\nHer arms to her boy, but has to check and school herself,\\npoor wretch!\\nAnd the house was hushed in pity and awe, when I saw\\nher stare and start,\\nThen stagger, and turn as white as death, and put her\\nhand to her heart.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "164 POETIC JEWELS\\nI followed her eyes, and there close by in the pit, looking\\npale and thin.\\nWas a tall young fellow in naval dress, who had only just\\ncome in:\\nHe sprang to the stage, and bounded on, and you can\\nguess the rest.\\nO Alice, Alice! O Harry, dear! and she swooned\\naway on his breast!\\nI think for the moment the people thought twas part of\\nthe play, forsooth,\\nBut her story, you see, had been whispered about, and\\nthey easily guessed the truth.\\nAnd then ah! talk of a scene, my boy! such cheers you\\nnever heard\\nI thought the roof would have fallen in I did, upon my\\nword\\nOf course the curtain had to be dropped, and I whispered\\nto the band\\nTo strike up something, and hurried behind at once, you\\nunderstand.\\nTo find her just coming-to, dear heart, with the women\\nall weeping there.\\nAnd her husband, with her hand in his, kneeling beside\\nher chair.\\nAnd her little one clinging to her ah! what a tarblow\\nthat would have been!\\nTwould have made the fortune of a piece to have brought\\nin such a scene!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 165\\nI ve come to look at it now, you see, in a sort of profes-\\nsional light;\\nBut then I was very nearly as weak as the women were, or\\nquite.\\nHis story was short: his ship was wrecked, and twas\\nthought that all were drown d.\\nBut he and another clung to a spar, and were picked up\\nsafe and sound;\\nTwas more like the Tichborne story again than anything\\nelse I know:\\nDo I believe in the Claimant? Yes I believe he s\\nArthur O!\\nThey landed him close to the Diamond Fields, and he\\nwrote to his wife, but she\\nBelieved he was dead, and had changed her name, and\\ntaken service with me;\\nThen he took a turn at the diggin s, and there good luck\\ncame thick and fast,\\nAnd he d come back rich to find her gone, but they d met\\nat last at last!\\nThen her story was told, and how good I d been, and all\\nthe rest, dear heart.\\nAnd she would insist on going on again to finish her\\npart:\\nSo I went to the front myself, you know, and told the\\npeople all,\\nAnd, upon my soul, I thought this time the roof must\\nsurely fall.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "lG(i POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd when she came on again at last, what deafening thiin\\nder o cheers!\\nMen a-waving their hats like mad women and kids in\\ntears\\nI thought of the night when Kean first set all England s\\nheart astir:\\nSir, the pit ROSE AT me! he said; and so it did at her!\\nAnd she seemed inspired, so grand she was, so passionate,\\ntrue and warm;\\nFrom the time she opened her mouth again, she took the\\nhouse by storm;\\nThree times they had her back at the end, and I shall never\\nforget\\nHow he had to lead her on at the last I can see and hear\\nem yet.\\nA bonnie couple they were, my boy, and to see em to-\\ngether then\\nHem! bother the smoke; it s been and got into my eyes\\nagain!\\nHe dropped me a fiver for a feed for the company next\\nday,\\nAnd she brought me this here diamond ring up to the\\nknocker, eh?\\nHe took a nice little place in Kent, where thy re living in\\nstyle, you know;\\nAnd there s always a knife and fork for me, whenever I\\nlike to go.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "POETIC .IE WELS 1G7\\nIt ain t so very long ago perhaps two or three months,\\nor more\\nSince me and the missus was there for a week, and was\\ntreated up to the door.\\nI had their story put in a play, and it answered pretty\\nwell,\\nBut, bless your heart, it wasn t a patch on the genuine\\narticle!\\nWell, good-bye for the present, old friend, if you won t\\nhave any more:\\nYou won t forget about the bills? Good on yer! O rcvivar!\\nEdwin Coller.\\nTHE BALLAD OF THE SHAMROCK.\\nY BOY left me just twelve years ago,\\nI Twas the black year of famine, of sickness and woe.\\nWhen the crops died out, and the people died too,\\nAnd the land into one great graveyard grew;\\nAnd our neighbors faces were as white and thin,\\nAs the face of the moon, when she first comes in;\\nAnd honest men s hearts were rotten with blight,\\nAnd they thieved, and prowled, like wolves at night;\\nWhen the whole land was as dark as dark could be,\\nTwas then that Donald my boy left me.\\nWe were turned from the farm, where we d lived so long.\\nFor we couldn t pay the rent, and the law was strong;\\nFrom the low meadow land, and flax fields blue,\\nAnd the handsome green hill, where the yellow furze\\ngrew;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "108 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd the honest old cow, that each evening would stand\\nAt the little gate, lowing, to be milked by my hand;\\nAnd the small patch of garden at the end of the lawn,\\nWhere Donald grew sweet flowers for his Colleen Bawn.\\nBut Donald and I had to leave all these,\\nI to live with father, and he to cross the seas,\\nFor Donald was as proud as any king s son.\\nAnd swore he d not stand by, and see such wrongs done,\\nBut would seek a fortune out in the wide west,\\nWhere the honest can find labor and the weary rest;\\nAnd as soon as he was able, why then he d send for me,\\nTo come and rest my poor old head in his home across the\\nsea;\\nAnd then his young face flushed like a June sky at dawn,\\nAs he said, he was thinking how his Colleen Bawn\\nCould come along to help him to keep the house straight.\\nFor he knew how much she loved him, and she d promised\\nhim to wait.\\nI think I see him now, as he stood one blessed day.\\nWith his pale, smiling face upon the Limerick quay,\\nAnd I lying on his breast, with his long curly hair\\nBlowing all about my shoulders, as if to keep me there,\\nAnd the quivering of his lips that he tried to keep so proud,\\nNot because of his old mother, but the idle, curious crowd.\\nThen the hoisting of the anchor, and the flapping of the sail,\\nAnd the stopping of my heart, when the wild Irish wail\\nFrom the mothers and the kinsfolk on the quay.\\nTold me plainer than all words, that my darling was away.\\nTen years went dragging by, and I heard but now and\\nthen,\\nFor my Donald, though a brave boy, was no scholar with\\nthe pen;\\nBut he sent me kindly words, and bade me not despair,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 169\\nAnd sometimes sent me money, perhaps more than he\\ncould spare.\\nSo I waited and I prayed, until it came to pass\\nThat Father Pat he wanted me one Sunday after mass;\\nWhen I went a little fearsome, to the back vestry room.\\nWhere his reverence sat a smiling, like a sun-flower in the\\ngloom;\\nAnd then he up and told me, God bless him, that my boy\\nHad sent to bring me over, and I nearly died for joy.\\nAll day I was half crazed, as I wandered through the house,\\nThe dropping of the sycamore seeds, or the scrambling of\\na mouse.\\nThrilled through me like a gun shot, and I durst not look\\nbehind.\\nFor the pale face of my darling was always in my mind;\\nThe pale face so sorrowful, the eyes so large and dark.\\nAnd softly shining as the deers are, in young Lord Marsy s\\npark.\\nAnd the long chestnut hair blowing loosely by the wind,\\nAll this seemed at my shoulder, and I did not look behind;\\nBut I said in my own heart, it is but the second-sight.\\nOf the day when I shall see him, all beautiful and bright.\\nThen I made my box ready to go across the sea;\\nMy boy had sent a ticket, so my passage it was free.\\nBut all the time I longed that some little gift I had,\\nTo take across the ocean to my own dear lad;\\nA pin, or a c .iaia, or something of the kind.\\nJust to mind the poor boy of the home he d left behind.\\nBut I was too poor to buy them, so I d nothing left to\\ndo,\\nBut to go to the old farm, the homestead that he knew,\\nTo the handsome green hill where my Donald used to\\nplay,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "170 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd cut a sod of shamrock for the exile far away.\\nAll through the voyage I nursed it, and watered it each\\nday,\\nAnd kept its green leaves sheltered from the salt sea\\nspray,\\nAnd I d bring it up on deck, when the sun was shining\\nfair.\\nAnd watch its triple leaflets open slowly in the air.\\nAt first the sailors laughed at my little sod of grass,\\nBut when they knew my object, they gently let me pass;\\nAnd the ladies in the cabin were very kind to me,\\nAnd made me tell my story of my boy across the sea;\\nSo I told them of my Donald and his fair manly face,\\nTill bare speaking of my darling made a sunshine in the\\nplace.\\nWe landed at the Battery, in New York s big bay,\\nThe sun was shining grandly, and the wharves looked\\ngay,\\nBut I could see no sunshine nor beauty in the place.\\nWhat I only cared to look on, was Donald s sweet face.\\nAnd in all that great crowd, and I turned everywhere,\\nI could not see a sign of him, my darling was not there\\nI asked the men around me to go and find my son.\\nBut they only stared and laughed, and left me one by\\none,\\nTill at last an old-country man came to me and said,\\n(How could I live to hear it?) that Donald was dead.\\nThe shamrock sod is growing on Greenwood s hillside,\\nIt grows upon the heart of my darling and my pride,\\nAnd on summer days I sit by the headstone all day,\\nWith my heart growing old and my head growing gray,\\nAnd I watch the dead leaves whirl from the sycamore\\ntrees,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "POETW JEWELS 171\\nAnd wonder why it is that I can t die Hkc these.\\nBut I think that this same winter, and in my heart I\\nhope,\\nI ll be lying nice and quiet upon Greenwood s slope,\\nWith my darling close beside me, underneath the trick-\\nling dew,\\nAnd the shamrock creeping pleasantly above us two.\\nFita James CBricn.\\nCOME REST IN THIS BOSOM.\\nCome rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,\\nThough the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still\\nhere.\\nHere still is the smile that no cloud can o ercast,\\nAnd a heart and a hand all thy own to the last\\nOh! what was love made for, if tis not the same\\nThrough joy and through torment, through glory and\\nshame?\\nI know not, I ask not, if guilt s in that heart,\\nI but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.\\nThou hast called me thy angel in moments of bliss,\\nAnd thy angel I ll be mid the horrors of this\\nThrough the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,\\nAnd shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too.\\nThomas Moore.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "172 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE HOLLOW OAK.\\nOLLOW is the oak beside the sunny waters\\ndrooping;\\nThither came, when I was young, happy children\\ntrooping;\\nDream I now, or hear I now far, their mellow whoop-\\ning?\\nGay below the cowslip bank, see, the billow dances,\\nThere I lay beguiling time when I lived romances\\nDropping pebbles in the wave, fancies into fancies;\\nFarther, where the river glides by the wooded cover,\\nWhere the merlin singeth love, with the hawk above her,\\nCame a foot and shone a smile woe is me, the Lover!\\nLeaflets on the hollow oak still as greenly quiver,\\nMusical amid the reeds murmurs on the river;\\nBut the footsteps and the smile? woe is me forever!\\nE. Btclzucr Lytton.\\nMAUNA LOA.\\nVER the girdling sea\\nWe sail for Mauna Loa;\\nTo windward lies Maui,\\nTo leeward Mauna Loa;\\nAnd swift we glide with wind and tide,\\nPilgrims to Mauna Loa;\\nWe Avatch no moon or star for guide,\\nBut only Mauna Loa.\\nThe mountain fumes five watery leagues away,\\nAround his head the hovering halos play:", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WEL S 175\\nOur island boatmen court the fitful breeze,\\nAnd trim our buoyant bark to skim the seas.\\nLeague after league we speed our wondering way;\\nWe leave the night behind before us play\\nThe lurid sparkles tipped with mountain light,\\nReflected o er the sea from Loa s height.\\nTis morning on the sea: Hawaii\\nLooms up from out the waters and the sky.\\nAnd Mauna Loa lifts his head on high,\\nMauna Loa wakens from his sleep\\nMauna Loa clothes his head with cloud\\nMauna Loa lightens o er the dcep\\nMauna Loa s crater thunders loud\\nThe clouds about his head are clouds of smoke:\\nThey came not from the ocean s summer mist\\nThe thunders which his lofty dome awoke\\nAre Vulcan s peals, not Jupiter s;\\nThe glowing beams are Lucifer s;\\nAnd not the rays of Sol illume the lurid smoke.\\nSo swift we sail till morning struggles nigh,\\nContending with the fire -illumed sky;\\nAnd so, while showers of ashy cinders pour.\\nWe moor our vessel near the island shore.\\nFor days we trod the isle of Hawaii\\nFor days we climbed the wondrous mountain high;\\nAnd night and day we felt, and saw, and heard.\\nBeyond all speech or utterable word\\nPassing the snowy girdle of the mount,\\nWe stood to windward of the fiery fount\\nThe vast, abysmal crater, deep and broad\\nWhich uttered thunders like the voice of God.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "176 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe outer elements beneath our feet\\nWere storming in the clouds of summer heat\\nBut in the deaf ning, deep volcano s roar,\\nThe atmospheric thunders seemed no more\\nThan mimic storms upon th illusive stage\\nWhere mimic elements in strife engage.\\nOver the burning pit for miles abroad,\\nA canopy above the fiery god\\nIn smoky curtains hung, or rolled away\\nTo Mauna Kea in their fitful play,\\nDisclosing changeful hues of fiery blue.\\nScarlet and purple in commingling hue;\\nAnd in their scenic counterfeit displayed\\nInverted image, in the heavens portrayed,\\nOf burning mountains, rent and all aglow\\nWith bright volcanic fire like that below.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0Anon, the glowing pillar of fire and cloud,\\nWith lightnings vivid and with thunders loud,\\nShot upward straight an hundred fathoms high,\\nAnd outward curved like comets in the sky.\\nOver the ocean smoky clouds were blown.\\nBearing volcanic ashes, raining down\\nDust and blown cinders on the darkened sea\\nAnd o er the decks of distant ships a-lee;\\nWithin the crater s vast and fiery verge,\\nThe white-hot molten lava, surge on surge,\\nHeaved, raged, and dashed with thundering roar.\\nLike surging ocean on a rock-bound shore.\\nThen suddenly a calm came on; and all\\nThe lava waves were still; the lurid pall\\nIn mid-air hovered o er the dread abyss;\\nThe thunders ceased; the roar, the howl, the hiss,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 177\\nAnd all the sounds of simulated dole\\nFell down into a smothered rumbling roll.\\nIllusive calm! An earthquake broke the spell.\\nA new-formed crater in the mountain hell\\nBurst forth, and midway down the mountain side\\nPoured out a molten river, deep and wide,\\nOf white-hot lava, struggling to be free,\\nAnd rolling downward to the distant sea.\\nAround its fiery rim the crater built\\nA cone of scoria, ashes, pumice, silt.\\nCinders, slag, and lava cooled; and out\\nOf this dread throat threw fitfully about.\\nOr shot sheer upward tow rd th astonished sky\\nIts fiery columns thundering on high,\\nA deep, infernal subterranean sound\\nA smothered rumbling, awful and profound,\\nAlternate with explosion s mingled roar.\\nConvulsed th abysmal fire from shore to shore,\\nFilling the air with lava spouting high.\\nLike fiery surf into a fiery sky.\\nAgain the gleaming lava rose in towers.\\nCones, columns, spires, or minarets and showers\\nOf glowing slag and cooling ashes fell\\nBack in the mouth of that volcanic hell.\\nUp with the molten columns as they rose.\\nMyriads of shining fragments interpose,\\nAnd back, down-falling in fantastic lines\\nRecurving shooting intersecting sines,\\nAnd streaking all the hot, volcanic air\\nMake gleaming phantasms in th infernal glare.\\nWith senses surfeited with wonder there,\\nWe turned our wildered wanderings to where", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "178 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe stream of molten lava, rolling free,\\nPoured through the distant forest to the sea.\\nAnd what a flood was there! A lava flood,\\nSlow-rolling, like a stream of smoking blood.\\nClotted, and sluggish as the surface cooled,\\nBursting in crimson spouts where pooled\\nIn d^^p depressions, broke the thickening crust.\\nOr rushing madly down where er it must,\\nA river of fire, quick-moving, broad and deep.\\nIn thundering cascade down the mountain steep.\\nInto the forest plunged th impetuous stream.\\nUpheaving rocks, and burning trees which gleam,\\nAnd scintillate, and light the murky air\\nWith showery stars out-bursting through the glare.\\nVast trees enveloped in the burning flood,\\nSurrounded at the base, brief moment stood,\\nThen bursting with a cannon s sudden roar,\\nO er-toppled in the flood they fell before.\\nAnd so the lava river, surging free.\\nPlunged through the blazing forest to the sea.\\nReluctant sea! unwonted to receive\\nThe fiery flood, its wildered waters heave\\nIn waves tumultuous, shivering like glass\\nWhite-hot in water, all the molten mass;\\nThrowing a vitreous hailstorm upon high,\\nWith thunders echoing from sea to sky.\\nFrom all the fiery firmament night fled away\\nFrom gory light reflected from the spray.\\nAnd glowing clouds of steam and sulphury smoke\\nCareered before the wind, and red waves broke\\nIn deafning thunders on the shining shore,\\nWhile sky, and earth, and ocean, mingled in the roar,\\nWas t not enough! No while th volcano raged", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 179\\nContending men in direful war engaged;\\nAnd Mauna Loa s slope saw deeds of death\\nWithin the sliadow of his sulphury breath.\\nKa-meha-meha, king of Hawaii,\\nCompelled a bold, rebellious chief to fly\\nWith all his followers up the mountain slope\\nToo few and feeble with his king to cope.\\nKeoua divided up his band\\nOf flying braves one company to stand\\nIn feint of battle with the irate king;\\nAnother in advance to fly, and bring\\nTheir wives and children to a safe retreat.\\nAnd now the ground beneath their hurrying feet\\nRocked wildly with a sudden earthquake s throes.\\nThe thundering crater joined their human foes;\\nBelched forth black clouds of blinding smoke, which rose\\nBefore the treacherous winds, which blew their breath\\nOf deadly sulphur, dooming all to death.\\nAnd so they perished! And around them all\\nThe rolling blackness spread its inky pall\\nAnd banished day; while through the deadly gloom\\nFierce lightnings played around their stifling tomb.\\nAnon, the comrades of the stricken band\\nThe deadly sulphur clouds blown over, stand\\nAppalled in presence of their kindred dead!\\nAt first so life-like looked the scene of dread.\\nThey seemed but resting from the hasty flight.\\nSome lay in silent groups; some sat upright.\\nBut stiff in death; some held their harmless spears\\nGripped tightly, resting on their rocky biers.\\nDead mothers clasped dead children in their grasp,\\nAnd not a soul survived that sulphury gasp!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "180 POETIC JEWELS\\nWhile over all the faces of the dead,\\nThe mingled ashes, dust, and sulphur spread\\nAppalling pallor death could never show!\\nSo perished there Ka-meha-meha s foe.\\nOver the girdling sea\\nWe sail from Mauna Loa;\\nTo windward lies Maui,\\nTo leeward Mauna I.oa;\\nAnd slow we glide gainst wind and tide,\\nPilgrims from Mauna Loa;\\nWatching, as over the waves we ride.\\nReceding Mauna Loa.\\nEdward R. Roe.\\nTHE DEATH OF THE OWD SQUIRE.\\nWAS a wild, mad kind of night, as black as the\\nbottomless pit.\\nThe wind was howling away like a Bedlamite in a\\nT fit,\\nTearing the ash boughs off, and mowing the poplars down\\nIn the meadows beyond the old flour-mill, where you turn\\noff to the town.\\nAnd the rain (well it did rain) dashing against the window\\nglass,\\nAnd the deluging on the roof, as the Devil were come to\\npass;\\nThe gutters were running in floods outside the stable-door,\\nAnd the spouts splashed from the tiles, as they would\\nnever eive o er.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 181\\nLor how the winders rattled! you d almost ha thought\\nthat thieves\\nWere wrenching at the shutters; while a ceaseless pelt of\\nleaves\\nFlew to the doors in gusts; and I could hear the beck\\nFalling so loud I knew at once it was up to a tall man s\\nneck.\\nWe was huddling in the harness-room, by a little scrap of\\nfire,\\nAnd Tom, the coachman, he was there, a practicing for the\\nchoir;\\nBut it sounded dismal, anthem did, for Squire was dying\\nfast,\\nAnd the Doctor said, Do what he would. Squire s break-\\ning up at last.\\nThe death watch, sure enough, ticked loud just over th\\nowd mare s head,\\nThough he had never once been heard up there since\\nmaster s boy lay dead;\\nAnd the only sound, beside Tom s toon, was the stirring in\\nthe stalls,\\nAnd the gnawing and the scratching of the rats in the old\\nwalls.\\nWe couldn t hear Death s foot pass by, but we knew that\\nhe was near;\\nAnd the chill rain, and the wind and cold made us all\\nshake with fear;\\nWe listened to the clock up-stairs, twas breathing soft\\nand low.\\nFor the nurse said At the turn of night the old Squire s\\nsoul would go.\\n11", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "182 POETIC JE WELS\\nMaster had been a wildish man, and led a roughish life;\\nDidn t he shoot the Bowton Squire, who dared write to\\nhis wife?\\nHe beat the Rads at Hindon town, I heard in twenty-nine,\\nWhen every pail in market-place was brimmed with red\\nport wine.\\nAnd as for hunting, bless your soul, why for forty years or\\nmore\\nHe d kept the Marley hounds, man, as his fayther did\\nafore\\nAnd now to die, and in his bed the season just begun\\nIt made him fret, the doctor said, as it might do any\\none.\\nAnd when the young sharp lawyer came to see him sign\\nhis will,\\nSquire made me blow my horn outside as wc were going\\nto kill;\\nAnd we turned the hounds out in the court that seemed\\nto do him good;\\nFor he swore, and sent us off to seek a fox in Thornhill\\nwood.\\nBut then the fever it rose high, and he would go see the\\nroom\\nWhere mistress died ten years ago when Lammastide\\nshall come;\\nI mind the year, because our mare at Saulsbury broke\\ndown;\\nMoreover the town hall was burnt at Steeple Dinton town.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 183\\nIt might be two, or half-past two, the wind seemed quite\\nasleep;\\nTom, he was off, but I awake, sat watch and ward to keep;\\nThe moon was up, quite glorious like, the rain no longer fell,.\\nWhen, all at once, out clashed and clanged the rusty\\nturret bell.\\nThat hadn t been heard for twenty years, not since the\\nLuddite days;\\nTomhe leaped up, and I leaped up, for all the house ablaze\\nHad sure not scared us half so much, and out we ran like\\nmad,\\nI, Tom, and ]oq the whipper in, and t little stable lad.\\nHe s killed himself, that s the idea that came into my\\nhead;\\nI felt as sure as though I saw Squire Barrovvly was dead;\\nWhen all at once a door flew back, and he met us face to\\nface;\\nHis scarlet coat was on his back, and he looked like the\\nold race.\\nThe nurse was clinging to his knees, and crying like a\\nchild;\\nThe maids were sobbing on the stairs, for he looked fierce\\nand wild;\\nSaddle me Lightning Bess, my men, that s what he\\nsaid to me:\\nThe moon is up, we re sure to find at Stop or Etterly.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "184 POETIC JEWELS\\nGet out the dogs; I m well to-night, and young again\\nand sound,\\nI ll have a run once more before they put me under\\nground;\\nThey brought my father home feet first, and it never shall\\nbe said\\nThat his son Joe, who rode so straight, died quietly in\\nhis bed.\\nBrandy he cried; a tumbler full, you women howling\\nthere;\\nThen clapped the old black velvet cap upon his long gray\\nhair.\\nThrust on his boots, snatched down his whip, though he\\nwas old and weak.\\nThere was a devil in his eye, that would not let me speak.\\nWe loosed the dogs to humor him, and sounded on the\\nhorn:\\nThe moon was up above the woods, just east of Haggard\\nBourne;\\nI buckled Lightning s throat-lash fast; the Squire was\\nwatching me;\\nHe let the stirrups down himself so quick, yet carefully.\\nThen up he got and spurred the mare, and, ere I well\\ncould mount,\\nHe drove the yard gate open, man; and called to old\\nDick Blount,\\nOur huntsman, dead five years ago for the fever rose\\nagain,\\nAnd was spreading like a flood of flame, fast up into his\\nbrain.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 85\\nThen ofif he flew before, the dogs yelling to call us on,\\nWhile we stood there, all pale and dumb, scarce knowing\\nhe was gone;\\nWe mounted, and below the hill we saw the fox break out.\\nAnd down the covert ride we heard the old Squire s part-\\ning shout.\\nAnd in the moon-lit meadow mist we saw him fly the rail\\nBeyond the hurdles by the beck, just half-way down the\\nvale;\\nI saw him breast fence after fence nothing could turn\\nhim back;\\nAnd in the moonlight after him streamed out the brave\\nold pack.\\nTwas like a dream, Tom cried to me, as we rode free and\\nfast.\\nHoping to turn him at the brook, that could not well be\\npast.\\nFor it was swollen with the rain; but ah, twas not to be;\\nNothing could stop old Lightning Bess but the broad breast\\nof the sea.\\nThe hounds swept on, and well in front the mare had got\\nher stride;\\nShe broke across the fallow land that runs by the down\\nside;\\nWe pulled up on Chalk Linton Hill, and as we stood us\\nthere.\\nTwo fields beyond we saw the Squire fall stone dead from\\nthe mare.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "180 POETIC JEWELS\\nThen she swept on, and in full cry, the hounds went out\\nof sight;\\nA cloud came over the broad moon, and something dimmed\\nour sight,\\nAs Tom and I bore master home, both speaking under\\nbreath;\\nAnd that s the way I saw th owd Squire ride boldly to his\\ndeath.\\nAiionynions.\\nCOMMODITY.\\nFrom Shclhys Qttccn Mah:\\nOMMERCE has set the mark of selfishness,\\nThe signet of its all-enslaving power.\\nUpon a shining ore, and called it gold;\\nBefore whose image bow the vulgar great,\\nThe vainly rich, the miserable proud.\\nThe mob of peasants, nobles, priests and kings.\\nAnd with blind feelings reverence the power\\nThat grinds them to the dust of misery.\\nBut in the temple of their hireling hearts\\nGold is a living god, and rules in scorn\\nAll earthly things but virtue\\nSince tyrants, by the sale of human life.\\nHeap luxuries to their sensualism, and fame\\nTo their wide-wasting and insatiate pride,\\nSuccess has sanctioned to a credulous world\\nThe ruin, the disgrace, the woe, of war.\\nHis hosts of blind and unresisting dupes\\nThe despot numbers; from his cabinet\\nThese puppets of his schemes he moves at will\\n(Even as the slaves by force of famine driven", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 187\\nBeneath a vulgar master) to perform\\nA task of cold and brutal drudgery;\\nHardened to hope, insensible to fear,\\nScarce living pulleys of a dead machine,\\nMere wheels of work, and articles of trade,\\nThat grace the proud and noisy pomp of wealth!\\nThe harmony and happiness of man\\nYield to the wealth of nations; that which lifts\\nHis nature to the heaven of its pride\\nIs bartered for the poison of his soul,\\nThe weight that drags to earth his towering hopes;\\nBlighting all prospect but of selfish gain,\\nWithering all .passion but of slavish fear,\\nExtinguishing all free and generous love\\nOf enterprise and daring. Even the pulse\\nThat fancy kindles in the beating heart\\nTo mingle with sensation, it destroys;\\nLeaves nothing but the sordid lust of self,\\nThe groveling hope of interest and gold,\\nUnqualified, unmingled, unredeemed\\nEven by hypocrisy.\\nAnd statesmen boast\\nOf wealth! The wordy eloquence that lives\\nAfter the ruin of their hearts, can gild\\nThe bitter poison of a nation s woe;\\nCan turn the worship of the servile mob\\nTo their corrupt and glaring idol. Fame,\\nFrom Virtue, trampled by its iron tread\\nAlthough its dazzling pedestal be raised\\nAmid the horrors of a limb-strewn field,\\nWith desolated dwcllin js smoking round.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "188 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe man of ease, who, by his warm fireside,\\nTo deeds of charitable intercourse,\\nAnd bare fulfillment of the common laws\\nOf decency and prejudice, confines\\nThe struggling nature of his human heart,\\nIs duped by their cold sophistry; he sheds\\nA passing tear perchance upon the wreck\\nOf earthly peace, when near his dwelling s door\\nThe frightful waves are driven when his son\\nIs murdered by the tyrant, or religion\\nDrives his wife raving mad. But the poor man\\nWhose life is misery and fear and care;\\nWhom the morn wakens but to fruitless toil;\\nWho ever hears his famished offspring s scream;\\nWhom their pale mother s uncomplaining gaze\\nForever meets, and the proud rich man s eye\\nFlashing command, and the heart-breaking scene\\nOf thousands like himself; he little heeds\\nThe rhetoric of tyranny. His hate\\nIs quenchless as his wrongs; he laughs to scorn\\nThe vain and bitter mockery of words;\\nFeeling the horror of the tyrant s deeds.\\nAnd unrestrained but by the arm of power.\\nThat knows and dreads his enmity.\\nThe iron rod of Penury still compels\\nHer wretched slave to bow the knee to wealth,\\nAnd poison with unprofitable toil\\nA life too void of solace, to confirm\\nThe very chains that bind him to his doom.\\nNature, impartial in munificence.\\nHas gifted man with all-subduing will;\\nMatter, with all its transitory shapes.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 189\\nLies subjected and piastic at his feet,\\nThat, weak from bondage, trembled as they tread\\nHow many a rustic Milton has passed by.\\nStifling the speechless longings of his heart\\nIn unremitting drudgery and care!\\nHow many a vulgar Cato has compelled\\nHis energies, no longer tameless then,\\nTo mold a pin, or fabricate a nail!\\nHow many a Newton to whose passive ken\\nThose mighty spheres that gem infinity\\nWere only specks of tinsel fixed in heaven\\nTo light the midnights of his native town!\\nYet every heart contains perfection s germ:\\nThe wisest of the sages of the earth\\nThat ever from the stores of reason drew\\nScience, and truth, and virtue s deadliest tone\\nWere but a weak and inexperienced boy\\nProud, sensual, unimpassioned, unimbued\\nWith pure desire and universal love\\nCompared to that high being, of cloudless brani.\\nUntainted passion, elevated will.\\nWhich death (who even would linger long in awe\\nWithin his noble presence, and beneath\\nHis changeless eye-beam) might alone subdue.\\nHim every slave now dragging through the filth\\nOf some corrupted city his sad life,\\nPining with famine, swoln with luxury,\\nBlunting the keenness of his spiritual sense\\nWith narrow schemings and unworthy cares.\\nOr madly rushing through all violent crime\\nTo move the deep stagnation of his soul^\\nMight imitate and equal.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "iW) POETIC JEWELS\\nBut mean lust\\nHas bound its chains so tight about the earth\\nThat all within it but the virtuous man\\nIs venal. Gold or fame will surely reach\\nThe price prefixed by selfishness, to all\\nBut him of resolute and unchanging will;\\nWhom nor the plaudits of a servile crowd,\\nNor the vile joys of tainting luxury,\\nCan bribe to yield his elevated soul\\nTo Tyranny or Falsehood, though they wield\\nWith blood-red hand the scepter of the world.\\nAll things are sold. The very light of heaven\\nIs venal: earth s unsparing gifts of love.\\nThe smallest and most despicable things\\nThat lurk in the abysses of the deep,\\nAll objects of our life, even life itself.\\nAnd the poor pittance which the laws allow\\nOf liberty the fellowship of man,\\nThose duties which his heart of human love\\nShould urge him to perform instinctively\\nAre bought and sold as in a public mart\\nOf undisguising Selfishness, that sets\\nOn each its price, the stamp-mark of her reign.\\nEven love is sold. The solace of all woe\\nIs turned to deadliest agony: old age\\nShivers in selfish beauty s loathing arms,\\nAnd youth s corrupted impulses prepare\\nA life of horror, from the blighting bane\\nOf commerce; whilst the pestilence that springs\\nFrom imenjoying sensualism has filled\\nAll human life with hydra-headed woes.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "P OE TIC JE WELS 1 1\\nFalsehood demands but gold to pa) the pangs\\nOf outraged conscience; for the slavish priest\\nSets no great value on his hireling faith;\\nA little passing pomp, some servile souls\\nWhom cowardice itself might safely chain,\\nOr the spare mite of avarice could bribe,\\nTo deck the triumph of their languid zeal.\\nCan make him minister to tyranny.\\nMore daring crime requires a loftier meed;\\nWithout a shudder the slave-soldier lends\\nHis arm to murderous deeds, and steels his heart\\nWhen the dread eloquence of dying men,\\nLow mingling on the lonely field of fame,\\nAssails that nature whose applause he sells\\nFor the gross blessings of the patriot mob,\\nFor the vile gratitude of heartless kings.\\nAnd for a cold world s good word viler still!\\nThere is a nobler glory which survives\\nUntil our being fades, and, solacing\\nAll human care, accompanies its change;\\nDeserts not virtue in the dungeon s gloom.\\nAnd, in the precincts of the palace, guides\\nHis footsteps through that labyrinth of crime;\\nImbues his lineaments with dauntlessness.\\nEven when from power s avenging hand he takes\\nIts sweetest, last, and noblest title death;\\nThe consciousness of good, which neither gold,\\nNor sordid fame, nor hope of heavenly bliss,\\nCan purchase; but a life of resolute good.\\nUnalterable will, quenchless desire\\nOf universal happiness, the heart\\nThat beats with it in unison, the brain", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "192 POETIC JEWELS\\nWhose ever-wakeful wisdom toils to change\\nReason s rich stores for its eternal weal.\\nThis commerce of sincerest virtue needs\\nNo mediative signs of selfishness,\\nNo jealous intercourse of wretched gain,\\nNo balancings of prudence, cold and long:\\nIn just an equal measure all is weighed;\\nOne scale contains the sum of human weal.\\nAnd one, the good man s heart.\\nHow vainly seek\\nThe selfish for that happiness denied\\nTo aught but virtue! Blind and hardened they\\nWho hope for peace amid the storms of care,\\nWho covet power they know not how to use,\\nAnd sigh for pleasure they refuse to give!\\nMadly they frustrate still their own designs;\\nAnd, where they hope that quiet to enjoy\\nWhich virtue pictures, bitterness of soul,\\nPining regrets, and vain repentances.\\nDisease, disgust, and lassitude pervade\\nTheir valueless and miserable lives.\\nBut hoary-headed Selfishness has felt\\nIts death-blow, and is tottering to the grave.\\nA brighter morn awaits the human day;\\nWhen every transfer of earth s natural gifts\\nShall be a commerce of good words and works;\\nWhen poverty and wealth, the thirst of fame.\\nThe fear of infamy, disease, and woe.\\nWar with its million horrors, and fierce hell.\\nShall live but in the memory of Time,\\nWho, like a penitent libertine, shall start,\\nLook back, and shudder at his younger years.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 193\\nTHE COLISEUM.\\nFrom By)vns C /tilde HaroUTs Pilgrimage.\\nRCHES on arches! as it were that Rome,\\nCollecting the chief trophies of her line,\\nWould build up all her triumphs in one dome,\\nHer Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine\\nAs twere its natural torches, for divine\\nShould be the light which streams here, to illume\\nThis long-explored but still exhaustless mine\\nOf contemplation: and the azure gloom\\nOf an Italian night, where the deep skies assume\\nHues which have words, and to speak ye of Heaven,\\nFloats o er the vast and wondrous monument.\\nAnd shadows forth its glory. There is given\\nUnto the things of earth, which Time hath bent,\\nA spirit s feeling, and where he hath leant\\nHis hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power\\nAnd magic in the ruin d battlement.\\nFor which the palace of the present hour\\nMust yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower.\\nAnd here the buzz of eager nations ran,\\nIn murmur d pity, or loud-roar d applause.\\nAs man was slaughter d by his fellow-man.\\nAnd wherefore slaughter d? wherefore but because\\nSuch were the bloody Circus genial laws.\\nAnd the imperial pleasure\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Wherefore not?\\nWhat matters where we fall to fill the maws\\nOf worms on battle-plains or listed spot?\\nBoth are but theaters where the chief actors rot,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "194 I OETW JEWELS\\nI see before me the Gladiator lie;\\nHe leans upon his hand his manly brow\\nConsents to death, but conquers agony,\\nAnd his droop d head sinks gradually low\\nAnd through his side the last drops, ebbing slow\\nFrom the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,\\nLike the first of the thunder-shower; and now\\nThe arena swims around him he is gone,\\nEre ceased the inhuman shout which hail d the wretcli\\nwho won.\\nHe heard it, but he heeded not his eyes\\nWere with his heart, and that was far away;\\nHe reck d not of the life he lost nor prize,\\nBut where his rude hut by the Danube lay.\\nThere were his young barbarians all at play,\\nThere was their Dacian mother he, their sire,\\nButcher d to make a Roman holiday!\\nAll this rush d with his blood Shall he expire\\nAnd unavenged? Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!\\nBut here, where murder breathed her bloody stream;\\nAnd here, where buzzing nations choked the ways.\\nAnd roar d or murmur d like a mountain stream\\nDashing or wandering as the torrent strays;\\nHere, where the Roman million s blame or praise\\nWas death or life, the playthings of a crowd.\\nMy voice sounds much and fall the stars faint rays\\nOn the arena void \u00e2\u0080\u0094seats crush d walls bow d\\nAnd galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangeh loud.\\nA ruin yet what ruin! from its mass\\nWalls, palaces, half-cities, have been rear d\\nYet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 195\\nAnd marvel where the spoil could have appear d.\\nHath it indeed been plunder d, or but clear d\\nAlas! developed, opens the decay,\\nWhen the colossal fabric s form is near d.\\nIt will not bear the brightness of the day,\\nWhich streams too much on all years, man, have reft away.\\nBut when the rising moon begins to climb\\nIts topmost arch, and gently pauses there;\\nWhen the stars twinkle through the loops of time,\\nAnd the low night-breeze waves along the air\\nThe garland-forest, which the gray walls wear.\\nLike laurels on the bald first Csesar s head;\\nWhen the light shines serene but doth not glare,\\nThen in this magic circle raise the dead;\\nHeroes have trod this spot tis on their dust ye tread.\\nWhile stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;\\nWhen falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;\\nAnd when Rome falls the World, From our own\\nland\\nThus spake the pilgrims o er this mighty wall\\nIn Saxon times, which we are wont to call\\nAncient; and these three mortal things are still\\nOn their foundations, and unalter d all;\\nRome and her Ruin past Redemption s skill,\\nThe World, the same wide den of thieves, or what ye\\nwill.\\nSimple, erect, severe, austere, sublime\\nShrine of all saints and temple of all gods,\\nFrom Jove to Jesus spared and blest by time;\\nLooking tranquillity, while falls or nods\\nArch, empire, each thing round thee, and man plods", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "196\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nHis way through thorns to ashes glorious dome!\\nShalt thou not last? Time s scythe and tyrant s rods\\nShiver upon thee sanctuary and home\\nOf art and piety Pantheon! pride of Rome!\\nRelic of nobler days, and noblest arts!\\nDespoiled, yet perfect, with thy circle spreads\\nA holiness appealing to all hearts\\nTo art a model, and to him who treads\\nRome for the sake of ages. Glory sheds\\nHer light through thy sole aperture; to those\\nWho worship, here are altars for their beads;\\nAnd they who feel for genius may repose\\nTheir eyes on honor d forms, whose busts around them\\nclose.\\nTHE VICTIM.\\nPLAGUE upon the people fell,\\nA famine after laid them low.\\nThen thorpe and byre arose in fire,\\nFor on them brake the sudden foe;\\nSo thick they died the people cried\\nThe gods are moved against the land.\\nThe Priest in horror about his altar\\nTo Thor and Odin lifted a hand:\\nHelp us from famine\\nAnd plague and strife!\\nWhat would you have of us?\\nHuman life?\\nWere it our nearest,\\nWere it our dearest\\n(Answer, O answer),\\nWe give you his life.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 197\\nBut still the foeman spoil d and burn d,\\nAnd cattle died, and deer in wood,\\nAnd bird in air, and fishes turn d\\nAnd whiten d all the rolling flood;\\nAnd dead men lay all over the way,\\nOr down in a furrow scathed with flame:\\nAnd ever and aye the Priesthood moan d\\nTill at last it seemed that an answer came:\\nThe King is happy\\nIn child and wife;\\nTake you his dearest,\\nGive us a life.\\nThe Priest went out by heath and hill;\\nThe king was hunting in the wild;\\nThey found the mother sitting still;\\nShe cast her arms about the child.\\nThe child was only eight summers old,\\nHis beauty still with his years increased\\nHis face was ruddy, his hair was gold.\\nHe seemed a victim due to the priest.\\nThe priest beheld him,\\nAnd cried with joy,\\nThe Gods have answer d:\\nWe give them the boy.\\nThe King return d from out the wild.\\nHe bore but little game in hand;\\nThe mother said: They have taken the child\\nTo spill his blood and heal the land:\\nThe land is sick, the people diseased,\\nAnd blight and famine on all the lea:\\nThe holy Gods, they must be appeased,\\nSo I pray you tell the truth to me.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "198 POETIC JE WELS\\nThey have taken our son,\\nThey will have his life.\\nIs he your dearest?\\nOr I, the wife?\\nThe King bent low, with hand and brow,\\nHe stay d his arms upon his knee:\\nO wife, what use to answer now?\\nFor now the Priest has judged for me.\\nThe King was shaken with holy fear;\\nThe Gods, he said, would have chosen well;\\nYet both are near, and both are dear,\\nAnd which the dearest I cannot tell!\\nBut the Priest was happy,\\nHis victim w on:\\nWe have his dearest,\\nHis only son!\\nThe rites prepared, the victim bared.\\nThe knife uprising toward the blow,\\nTo the altar-stone she sprang alone.\\nMe, not my darling, no!\\nHe caught her away with a sudden cry;\\nSuddenly from him brake his wife.\\nAnd shrieking, /am his dearest, I\\nam his dearest! rush don the knife.\\nAnd the Priest was happy,\\nO, Father Odin,\\nWe give you a life.\\nWhich was his nearest?\\nWho was his dearest?\\nThe Gods have answer d;\\nWe give them the wife!\\nTennyson.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "roETiC JE WELS\\n19 J\\nTHE TWO ARMIES.\\nif^j^^ S Life s unending column pours,\\nTwo marshal d hosts are seen\\no ujTvvo armies on the trampled shores\\n^^^A That Death flows black between.\\nOne marches to the drum-beat roll,\\nThe wide-mouthed clarion s bray,\\nAnd bear upon a crimson scroll,\\nOur glory is to slay.\\nOne moves in silence by the stream,\\nWith sad yet watchful eyes,\\nCalm as the patient planet s gleam\\nThat walks the clouded skies.\\nAlong its front no sabers shine.\\nNo blood-red pennons wave;\\nIts banner bears the single line,\\nOur duty is to save.\\nFor those no death-bed s lingering shade;\\nAt honor s trumpet-call,\\nWith knitted brow and lifted blade\\nIn glory s arms they fall.\\nFor these no clashing falchions bright.\\nNo stirring battle-cry;\\nThe bloodless stabber calls by night\\nEach answers, Here am I!\\nFor those the sculptor s laurel d bust.\\nThe builder s marble piles,\\nThe anthems pealing o er their dust\\nThrough long cathedral aisles.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "200 POETIC JEWELS\\nFor these the blossom-sprinkled turf,\\nThat floods the lonely graves,\\nWhen Spring rolls in her sea-green surf\\nIn flowery-foaming waves.\\nTwo paths lead upward from below,\\nAnd angels wait above,\\nWho count each burning life-drop s flow,\\nEach falling tear of Love.\\nThough from the Hero s bleeding breast\\nHer pulses Freedom drew,\\nThough the white lilies in her crest\\nSprung from that scarlet dew\\nWhile Valor s haughty champions wait\\nTill all their scars are shown,\\nLove walks unchallenged through the gate.\\nTo sit beside the Throne!\\nOlivcy Wendell Holmes.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "rOETIC JEWELS JOJ\\nHELP THE POOR.\\nTranslated fyoDi the French by Prof. John Inxih.\\n^E whom Fortune blessed, do you think some-\\ntimes\\nAt your winter feasts, when the whirring ball\\nFills you with its fires, and on ev ry step\\nYou see dazzling lights, crystals, balusters.\\nSparkling chandeliers, fulgent mirrors and\\nBrightness and joy dance on the foreheads of\\nAll the happy guests in the starry hall.\\nYe whom Fortune blessed, do you think sometimes,\\nWhile a golden bell, ringing in your rooms,\\nInto joyous songs turns Time s mighty voice;\\nDo you think sometimes that a hungry wretch\\nOn the gloomy square stops, perhaps, and sees\\nHow your luminous shadows dancing pass\\nAt the windows of the gilded hall?\\nDo you think that there, in the snow and river.\\nStands that father whom, as he has no work.\\nFamine has besieged, and that he complains\\nOh, so much for one! And so many friends\\nFrolic at his feast! Oh, how happy must\\nBe that man as his children smile on him?\\nThere is everything- all, but bread for mine!\\nHe compares your feast in his suffVing mind\\nWith his hearth; no flame shines and sparkles there;\\nThere his children are hungry, trembling, starved.\\nAnd their mother is clad in shreds and rags;\\nOn a little straw lies their grandmother\\nStretched, speechless, cold, whom the winter had\\nMade already cold cold enough for a grave.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "204 POETIC JE WEL8\\nGod has parceled out different human lots:\\nSome walk weighed down with a heavy load:\\nVery few are called to Fortune s feast;\\nEven these not all are alike at ease;\\nFor a law there is, bad, unjust, perhaps,\\nViewed from below, and which thus decrees\\nTo a few, Enjoy! Envy! to the crowd.\\nGloomy, bitter, stern is indeed such thought;\\nIt ferments the heart of the suff ring poor.\\nYe whom Fortune blessed, let your revels sleep,\\nThat no violence shall one day pluck out\\nOf your hands those goods which you do not need.\\nAnd to which their eyes cleave tenaciously!\\nNo, no violence; be it Charity!\\nHeavenly Charity, whom the poor adore!\\nLoving parent of Fortune s step-children.\\nThat supports, relieves those the passers-by\\nRudely push aside, and, if need should be,\\nImmolates herself, and, like J^sus Christ,\\nWhom she follows close, she would even say:\\nEat and drink ye all! Tis my flesh, my blood!\\nYe rich, let it be her, yes, her alone.\\nThat with ample hands from your children s arms,\\nFrom your ladies necks, pulls the diamonds.\\nSapphires, necklaces, pearls and corals and\\nCherished jewelry, always vain and false.\\nThat you may relieve human misery,\\nAnd that you may save your immortal souls!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 205\\nYe rich, help the poor! Understand that ahns\\nPrayer s sisters are! When a gray-haired man,\\nStiff with cold, at your stony door-step falls\\nOn his knees, in vain when a little child,\\nWith her red, cold hands at your feet the crumbs\\nOf your revels picks; then, remember well\\nThat our Saviour s face turns away from you!\\nHelp the poor, ye rich, that Almighty God,\\nWho endows you all, to your sons gives strength,\\nTo your daughters grace, that your vines produce\\nAlways luscious fruit, and that riper wheat\\nMake your gran ries bend, that you every day\\nBetter, holier be, and that you may see\\nHow the angels pass through your dreams at night.\\nHelp the poor, ye rich! And a day will come\\nWhen the earth leaves you, when your alms-giving\\nBuilds a treasury there on high for you!\\nHelp the poor, so that they at least shall say:\\nHe has pitied us! that the indigent.\\nShivering with frost, and the hungry poor,\\nNot with jealous eyes look upon your feasts.\\nHelp the poor, so that God Incarnate shall\\nBe content with you; that the godless, ev n,\\nBow and speak your name; that your hearth be calm\\nAnd fraternal, and you one day shall have\\nAll the potent help of a beggar s prayers\\nAt the throne of God in the Heaven above.\\nVictor Huero.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "200 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE KNIGHT AND THE LADY.\\nA Domestic Legend of the Reign of Queen Anne.\\nHail, wedded love I mysterious tie 1\\nTliompson or soinchody.\\nHE Lady Jane was tall and slim,\\nThe Lady Jane was fair,\\njid Sir Thomas, her lord, was stout of limb,\\nI** And his cough was short, and his eyes were dim,\\nAnd he wore green specs, with a tortoise-shell rim\\nAnd his hat was remarkably broad in the brim,\\nAnd she was uncommonly fond of him\\nAnd they were a loving pair!\\nAnd the name and the fame\\nOf the Knight and his Dame,\\nWere everywhere hailed with the loudest acclaim.\\nNow Sir Thomas the Good,\\nBe it well understood.\\nWas a man of very contemplative mood\\nHe would pore by the hour\\nO er a weed or a flower.\\nOr the slugs that come crawling out after a shower;\\nBlack-beetles and Bumble-bees, Blue-bottle flies,\\nAnd Moths, v/ere of no small account in his eyes;\\nAn Industrious Flea he d by no means despise,\\nWhile an Old Daddy-long-legs, whose long legs\\nand thighs\\nPassed the common in shape, or in color, or size.\\nHe was wont to consider an absolute prize.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 207\\nWell, it happened one day\\nI really can t say\\nThe particular month; but I M/;//^ twas in May\\nTvvas, I knozu, in the Springtime when Nature looks\\ngay,\\nAs the Poet observes and on tree-top and spray\\nThe dear little dickey-birds carol away;\\nWhen the grass is so green, and the sun is so bright.\\nAnd all things are teeming with life and with light\\nThat the whole of the house was thrown into affright.\\nFor no soul could conceive what was gone with the\\nKnight!\\nIt seems he had taken\\nA light breakfast bacon,\\nAn Qgg with a little broiled haddock at most\\nA round and a half of some hot buttered toast,\\nWith a slice of cold sirloin from yesterday s roast.\\nAnd then let me see!\\nHe had two, perhaps three,\\nCups (with sugar and cream) of strong gunpowder tea.\\nWith a spoonful in each of some choice eati. de vie\\nWhich with nine out of ten would perhaps disagree\\nIn fact, I and my son\\nMix black with our Hyson,\\nNeither having the nerves of a bull, or a bison,\\nAnd both hating brandy like what some call pison\\nNo matter for that\\nHe had called for his hat,\\nWith the brim that I ve said was so broad and so flat.\\nAnd his specs with the tortoise-shell rim, and his cane\\nWith the crutch-handled top, which he used to sustain", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "208 POETIC JEWELS\\nHis steps in his walks, and to poke in the shrubs\\nAnd the grass, when unearthing his worms and his grubs.\\nThus armed, he set out on a ramble alack!\\nHe set out, poor dear soul! but he never came back!\\nThe morning dawned and the next and the next,\\nAnd all in the mansion were still perplexed;\\nUp came running a man, at a deuce of a pace,\\nWith that very peculiar expression of face\\nWhich always betokens dismay or disaster,\\nCrying out twas the gardener O ma am! we ve found\\nmaster!\\nWhere? where? screamed the lady; and Echo screamed,\\nwhere?\\nThe man couldn t say There!\\nHe had no breath to spare,\\nBut, gasping for air, he could only respond\\nBy pointing he pointed, alas! TO THE POND.\\nTvvase cn so poor dear Knight! with his specs and\\nhis hat,\\nHe d gone poking his nose into this and to that.\\nWhen, close to the side\\nOf the bank, he espied\\nAn uncommon fine tadpole, remarkably fat!\\nHe stooped; and he thought her\\nHis own; he had caught her!\\nGot hold of her tail and to land almost brought her,\\nWhen\u00e2\u0080\u0094 he plumped head and heels into fifteen feet water!\\nThe Lady Jane was tall and slim.\\nThe Lady Jane was fair,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS JOO\\nAlas, for Sir Thomas! she grieved for him,\\nAs she saw two serving men, sturdy of h mb,\\nHis body between them bear:\\nShe sobbed and she sighed, she lamented and cried,\\nFor of sorrow brimful was her cup;\\nShe swooned, and I think she d have fallen down and died,\\nIf Captain McBride\\nHad not been by her side.\\nWith the gardener; they both their assistance supplied.\\nAnd managed to hold her up.\\nBut, when she comes to,\\nO tis shocking to view\\nThe sight which the corpse reveals! Sir Thomas body.\\nIt looked so odd he\\nWas half eaten up by the eels!\\nHis waistcoat and hose, and the rest of his clothes,\\nWere all gnawled through and through!\\nAnd out of each shoe\\nAn eel they drew,\\nAnd from each of his pockets they pulled out two!\\nAnd the gardener himself had secreted a icw\\nAs well we may suppose;\\nFor when he came running to give the alarm.\\nHe had six in the basket that hung on his arm.\\nGood Father John\\nWas summoned anon;\\nHoly water was sprinkled,\\nAnd little bells tinkled.\\nAnd tapers were lighted,\\nAnd incense ignited,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "210\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nAnd masses were sung, and masses were said\\nAll day, for the quiet repose of the dead,\\nAnd all night no one thought about going to bed.\\nBut Lady Jane was tall and slim,\\nAnd Lady Jane was fair\\nAnd, ere morning came, that winsome dame\\nHad made up her mind or what is much the same,\\nHad thought about once more changing her name,\\nAnd she said, with a pensive air,\\nTj Thompson the valet, while taking away.\\nWhen supper was over, the cloth and the tray:\\nEels a many\\nI ve ate; but any\\nSo good ne er tasted before!\\nThey re a fish, too, of v/hich I m remarkably fond\\nGo, pop Sir Thomas again in the pond;\\nPoor dear! HE LL CATCH us some more.\\nRicJiard H. Bar ham.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 213\\nLINES\\nIn memory of my little daughter, Nellie Glen R.\\nHE fairest flower that bloomed for me\\nUpon life s lonely shore,\\nA loving angel chanced to see\\nIt blooms for me no more.\\nThe angel saw and loved my flower\\nDid /le love more than I?\\nI only know that self-same hour\\nIt blossomed in the sky.\\nToo rare a bud to thrive on earth\\nAnd yield its sweet perfume\\nThe atmosphere that gave it birth\\nCould not perfect its bloom.\\nAnd so God let his angel come\\nAnd pluck the flower He d given\\nTransplanted to that fairer home,\\nIt blooms for aye in Heaven.\\nE. T. R.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "214\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nTHE BATTLE.\\nSchiller, translated by Biilwer.\\n^EAVY and solemn,\\nA cloudy column,\\nThro the great plain they marcb.ing came!\\nMeasureless spread, like a table dread,\\nFor the wild grim dice of the iron game.\\nLooks are bent on the shaking ground,\\nHearts beat loud with a knelling sound;\\nSwift by the breasts that must bear the brunt\\nGallops the major along the front.\\nHalt!\\nAnd fettered they stand at the stark command,\\nAnd the warriors, silent, halt!\\nProud in the blush of morning glowing,\\nWhat on the hill-top shines in flowing?\\nSee you the foeman s banner waving?\\nWe see the foeman s banner waving.\\nGod be with ye, children and wife!\\nHark to the music, the trump and the fife;\\nHow they ring thro the ranks which they rouse to the\\nstrife!\\nThrilling they sound, with their glorious tone;\\nThrilling they go thro the marrow and bone.\\nBrothers, God grant, ivhen this life is o er.\\nIn the life to come that zve meet once more!\\nSee the smoke how the lightning is cleaving asunder!\\nHark! the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their\\nthunder!\\nFrom host to host, with kindling sound,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 215\\nThe shouting signal circles round;\\nAy, shout it forth to life or death\\nFreer already breathes the breath!\\nThe war is waging, slaughter raging,\\nAnd heavy through the reeking pall\\nThe iron death-dice fall\\nNearer they close -foes upon foes.\\nReady! from square to square it goes.\\nThey kneel as one man, from flank to flank.\\nAnd the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank.\\nMany a soldier to earth is sent,\\nMany a gap by the balls is rent;\\nO er the corse before springs the hinder man,\\nThat the line may not fail to the fearless van.\\nTo the right, to the left, and around and around\\nDeath whirls in its dance on the bloody ground.\\nGod s sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight,\\nOver the host falls a brooding night!\\nBrothers, God grant, ivJien this life is o er.\\nIn the life to come that zve meet ofice more\\nThe dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood,\\nAnd the living are blent in the slippery flood,\\nAnd the feet, as they reeling and sliding go,\\nStumble still on the corses that sleep below.\\nWhat Francis! Give Charlotte my last farewell.\\nAs the dying man murmurs the thunders swell.\\nI ll give O God are the guns so near?\\nHo, comrades! yon volley! look sharp to the rear!\\nI ll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell.\\nSleep soft; where death thickest descendeth in rain\\nThe friend thou forsakest thy side may regain!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "216 POETIC JEWELS\\nHitherward, thitherward reels the fight;\\nDark and more darkly day glooms into night.\\nBrothers, God grant, when this life is o er.\\nIn the life to come that we meet once more!\\nHark to the hoofs that galloping go!\\nThe adjutants flying\\nThe horsemen press hard on the panting foe;\\nTheir thunder booms, in dying,\\nVictory\\nTerror has seized on the dastards all,\\nAnd their colors fall\\nVictory!\\nCkfsed is the brunt of the glorious fight,\\nAnd the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night;\\nTriumph and fife swelling choral along.\\nThe trumpet already sweeps marching in song.\\nFarewell, fallen brothers tJiough this life be o er.\\nThere s another, in which we shall meet you once more\\nLOVE AND DEATH.\\n[Louis de Bourbon, Count of Montpensier, died suddenly of grief whilst\\nviewing the tomb of his father, the Duke of Bourbon, which was opened at his\\ncommand, amid all the pomp of a magnificent service, and in the presence of his\\nvictorious army.]\\n^T was the twilight hour! Deep silence hung.\\nLike a lone watcher, o er each sainted shrine,\\n|Where pure religion burnt her lamp divine,\\nMid fair Italia s temple, and there rung\\nNo sound upon the stillness, save, perchance.\\nWhen the slight gale, stirring the citron grove,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 217\\nDisplayed its silver lining to the glance\\nOf the enamored moon, or some bird wove,\\nLured by the quivering light, a broken chain\\nOf wild and dreamy song. But hark! that toll\\nFrom the old minster bell; and now the whole\\nOf the antique and consecrated fane\\nWas kindled with a red and glaring light.\\nStronger than midday, while its fretted height\\nReturned the solemn anthem as it rose\\nMidst clouds of incense, blent with organ clear,\\nWhile the low dirge was echoed at its close\\nBy voices, that grew stronger on the ear\\nAt every moment till the sounding aisle\\nRang with the heavy tread of a full train\\nOf mailed men, who, through the sainted pile\\nMoved to one distant spot; each tinted pane\\nShedding a crimson glow upon their forms,\\nAnd every steel-clad armor flashing back\\nThe torchlight, clear as lightning mid the storms;\\nOn, on they pressed What stayed them in their tracks?\\nA gilded coffin! all alone it lay\\nMid a full flood of brightness its closed lid\\nBearing a sword and shield, yet almost hid\\nBeneath the floating banners, bright and gay,\\nThat waved around, as if they heeded not\\nWhat spoil it was they covered. From the throng\\nAdvanced a youthful chieftain to the spot,\\nAnd low he bowed, in silence deep and strong,\\nBesides the stately bier, until at length\\nHe breathed, in hollow accents, strangely clear,\\nOnce more I would look on him! With quick fear\\nHis followers raised the lid, and back recoiled,\\n13", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "218 POETIC JEWELS\\nAs chilled with death s cold presence: he alone\\nShrank not away, but stood like sculptured stone,\\nGazing upon that image, quite bespoiled\\nBy time s relentless grasp. Long, long he stood\\nViewing those smoldering ashes, till his breast\\nHeaved like an ocean-billow, and the blood\\nForsook his pallid lip and brow compressed,\\nAs to the bier he bowed his youthful cheek.\\nAnd breathed his spirit s woe in accents weak.\\nDust! dust! and is this all\\nThat death has left for me?\\nWhat boots it now the shroud and pall\\nSo closely wrapt round thee?\\nI thought once more to gaze\\nUpon thy blessed face,\\nBut, father, the rude worm that plays\\nHath left of thee no trace.\\nI have brought victory s crown\\nTo set upon thy brow;\\nOh! better twere to see thee frown,\\nThan look on thee as now.\\nYet no, my father! no!\\nThis anguish grows too wild;\\nBetter to have thee even so,\\nThan frowning on thy child.\\nDidst thou not know how well\\nI loved thee, even to death,\\nAnd how my life was but a spell\\nBound in thy living breath?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 219\\nAnd yet thou could st depart\\nAnd leave me all alone\\nOh! take me, take me to that heart,\\nSince to it I have grown.\\nIf the sun hide its rays,\\nMust not the floweret die.\\nAnd can the wind- harp wake its lays\\nUnless the breeze be nigh?\\nThou wert that sun to me,\\nAnd thou that wakening gale,\\nAnd yet no answer comes from thee\\nTo soothe my spirit s wail.\\nOh! by the days of yore,\\nWhen seated by thy side,\\nI drank in love s most precious lore.\\nAnd sought no thoughts to hide:\\nAnd for that mother s sake.\\nWhose earthly course is done.\\nMy sire let thy cold ashes wake\\nAnd speak unto thy son.\\nHush! hark! methought a voice\\nCame from his distant home:\\nIt calls me! now my heart rejoice\\nFather! I come! I come!\\nAnd with a wild and piercing shriek he fell\\nUpon that couch of death, and closely pressed\\nHis arms, as folding something to his breast,\\nWith a convulsive shiver, that full well", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "220\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nTold of the inward strife; until at last,\\nCrushed, like a reed beneath the tempest s blast.\\nHis slight frame yielded to the awe-struck band\\nThat crowded round him, and each trembling hand\\nUnloosed his heavy breast-plate, and then took\\nThe plume-crowned helmet from the drooping head,\\nThat sank beneath it; but one single look\\nToid twas in vain the youthful prince was dead!\\nMary E. Lee.\\nMARY STUART AND HER MOURNER.\\nMary Stuart perished at the age of forty-four years and two months. Her\\nremains were taken from her weeping servants, and a green cloth, torn in haste\\nfrom an old billiard table, was flung over her once beautiful form. Thus it\\nremained, unwatched and unattended, except by a poor little lap-dog, whith\\ncould not be induced to quit the body of its mistress. This faithful little ani-\\nmal was found dead two days afterward and the circumstance made such an\\nimpression even on the hard-hearted minister of Elizabeth, that it was men-\\ntioned in the official dispatches. Mrs. y amieson s Female Sovereigns Mary\\nQueen of Scots.\\nHE axe its bloody work had done;\\nThe corpse neglected lay;\\nThis peopled world could spare not one\\nTo watch beside the clay.\\nThe fairest work from Nature s hand\\nThat e er on mortal shone,\\nA sunbeam stray d from fairy land\\nTo fade upon a throne;\\nThe Venus of the tomb* whose form\\nWas destiny and death;\\nThe Siren s voice that stirr d a storm\\nIn each melodious breath;\\nLibitina, the Venus who presided over funerals.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 221\\nSuch was, what now by fate is hurl d\\nTo rot, unwept, away.\\nA star has vanish d from the world;\\nAnd none to miss the ray!\\nStern Knox, that loneliness forlorn\\nA harsher truth might teach\\nTo royal pomps than priestly scorn\\nTo royal sins can preach!\\nNo victims now that lip can make!\\nThat hand how powerless now!\\nO God! and what s a King but take\\nA bauble from the brow?\\nThe world is full of life and love;\\nThe world, methinks, might spare\\nFrom millions, one to watch above\\nThe dust of monarchs there.\\nAnd not one human eye yet lo!\\nWhat stirs the funeral pall?\\nWhat sound it is not human woe-\\nWails moaning through the hall?\\nClose by the form mankind desert\\nOne thing a vigil keeps.\\nMore near and near to that still heart\\nIt wistful, wondering, creeps.\\nIt gazes on those glazed eyes,\\nIt hearkens for a breath\\nIt does not know that kindness dies.\\nAnd love departs from death.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nIt fawns as fondly as before\\nUpon that icy hand;\\nAnd hears from lips, that speak no more,\\nThe voice that can command.\\nTo that poor fool, alone on earth.\\nNo matter what had been\\nThe pomp, the fall, the guilt, the worth,\\nThe Dead was still a Queen.\\nWith eyes that horror could not scare,\\nIt watched the senseless clay;\\nCrouch d on the breast of Death, and there\\nMoan d its fond life away.\\nAnd when the bolts discordant clash d.\\nAnd human steps drew nigh,\\nThe human pity shrunk abash d\\nBefore that faithful eye.\\nft seemed to gaze with such rebuke\\nOn those who could forsake;\\nThen turn d to watch once more the look\\nAnd strive the sleep to wake.\\nThey raised the pall they touch d the dead\\nA cry, and both were still d\\nAlike the soul that Hate had sped,\\nThe life that Love had kill d.\\nSemiramis of England, hail!\\nThy crime secures thy sway:\\nBut when thine eyes shall scan the tale\\nThose hireling scribes convey", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 223\\nWhen thou shalt read, with late remorse,\\nHow one poor slave was found\\nBeside thy butcher d rival s corse,\\nThe headless and discrown d:\\nShall not thy soul foretell thine own\\nUnloved expiring hour,\\nWhen those who kneel around the throne\\nShall fly the falling tower;\\nWhen thy great heart shall silent break,\\nWhen thy sad eyes shall strain\\nThrough vacant space, one thing to seek,\\nOne thing that loved\u00e2\u0080\u0094 in vain?\\nThough round thy parting pangs of pride\\nShall priest and noble crowd:\\n(M^ore worth the grief that mourn d beside\\nThy victim s gory shroud!\\nE, Biihvcr Lytton.\\nTHE DECAYED FARM-HOUSE.\\nID mighty ruins moldering to decay.\\nThe lettered traveler delights to roam;\\nThe antique pile or column to survey.\\nAnd trace faint legends on the crumbling doua\\nThey court proud cities of historic name,\\nBy desolation s giant arm subdued.\\nAnd meditate the spot, once dear to fame,\\nWhere Balbec flourished, or Palmyra stood.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "224 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe muse delights to court a lone retreat,\\nAnd far from these illustrious scenes to stray;\\nUpreared by folly for ambition s seat,\\nBy vice and folly fall n now tottering to decay.\\nShe loves to meditate the humbler spot,\\nWhere untrick d nature pours the rude sublime;\\nWhere rural hands have reared the rural cot,\\nDecaying now beneath the touch of time.\\nYon farm-house totters, by the tempest beat.\\nThe mark of age its antique chimneys bear;\\nSure no sad master owns the cheerless seat.\\nSay, passing shepherd, who has sojourned there?\\nForgive the sigh, the rustic swain replied,\\nThese desert scenes my happier days recall\\nForgive the tears which down my cheeks glide.\\nFor when I view this spot, my tears will fall.\\nStranger! said he, here late did Gracio dwell,\\nHast thou not heard of good old Gracio s fame?\\nThrough all our village he was known full well,\\nAnd even lisping infants spoke his name,\\nTwice twenty years I served him as his hind.\\nTwice twenty years for him I tilled the soil;\\nI loved my master, for I found him kind.\\nMy task was easy, and I blessed my toil.\\nHe seemed not master, but an equal friend\\nHe joined our labors in the field by day.\\nAnd when the evening bade our labors end.\\nHe mingled freely in our rustic play.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 225\\nAh! well I knew him from his mother s arms,\\nNo youth so fair, so innocent, as he;\\nHis spring of life was deck d with spring s best charms,\\nHis opening mind was like the blossom d tree.\\nHis riper years with riper fruits were crown d,\\nHis mellow autumn blest with genial skies;\\nHis age, like winter s frost-ymantled ground,\\nWhere vigor still beneath the hoary surface lies.\\nFor wealth or power he breathed no prayer to\\nHeaven,\\nLife s every blessing industry supplied;\\nTo him health, peace, and competence were giv n,\\nAnd say, can virtue form a wish beside?\\nThis once loved spot recalls full many a joy,\\nWhat cheered in youth old age will ne er forget;\\nBut still must dote on memory s fond employ.\\nAnd what it loved the most, the most regret.\\nThe spreading elm that shadows o er the yard,\\nIts parted master to my view can call;\\nAnd every object claims a soft regard.\\nSince Gracio s memory sanctifies them all.\\nThe shady bower in yonder elmy meads,\\nThe vocal thicket where the throstle sung.\\nThe little gate that through the garden leads.\\nThe fork now useless where the milk-pail hung.\\nBut Gracio s dead, and desert is the scene,\\nGracio s no more, and every charm s decayed;\\nThose joys are fled which gladdened once the green;\\nBut still fond fancy courts the fleeting shade,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "226 PONTIC JEWELS\\nStill dwells tenacious on those happy hours\\nWhen this loved spot with social joys was crowned;\\nWhen health, content and innocence were ours,\\nAnd poured the song of happiness around.\\nThen the glad household his return would greet,\\nAnd winning welcome smiled with accents bland;\\nThe faithful house-dog gamboled round his feet,\\nTo court attention from his master s hand.\\nTo clasp his knees the prattling infants ran,\\nProud from their sire to catch the earliest kiss;\\nOh! I have seen the parent bless the man,\\nWhen only tears could speak his secret bliss.\\nBut now he s dead, the thought demands a tear,\\nI saw the good man yield his latest breath;\\nHe fell full ripened as the autumnal ear.\\nSwept by the sickle of relentless Death.\\nShepherd, said he, my day of life is flown;\\n(Methinks ev n now the faltering sound I hear.)\\nLay my cold corse beneath some humble stone,\\nAnd let no useless pomp attend my bier.\\nWe tried each healing art, but could not save;\\nWe bore his bier, the last sad debt to pay;\\nNo plumy hearse bore Gracio to the grave,\\nNo pompous pile was reared around his clay.\\nAll the sad village followed in the train,\\nWe laid his bones beneath yon yew-tree s shade;\\nOur village curate graved the elegiac strain,\\nAnd lo! the stone, the spot in which he s laid.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "ROBERT BURNS, the Scottish Bard (1759-96),\\n[His poems are replete with popular sayings.]", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 229\\nTHE EPITAPH.\\nHere Gracio mingles with his kindred clay,\\nWho lived contented, and who died resigned;\\nHe let no slavish rule his actions sway,\\nBut the warm impulse of an honest mind.\\nOf Heaven s free blessings he bestowed a part,\\nAnd opened wide his hospitable gate;\\nHe fed the poor, for gen rous was his heart;\\nHe soothed the sad, for pity was his mate.\\nTo him the boon of good old age was giv n,\\nAnd, now, when parted from this world of woe,\\nHe rests in holy faith of God and Heav n,\\nTo meet that mercy which he gave below.\\nRobert Lovell.\\nSONG OF THE BRAVE.\\nFrom the German of Biirger.\\nIGH sounds the song of valiant ones,\\nAs organ tones and chiming bells\\nWhose lofty valor only owns\\nNot gold but grateful song which tells.\\nI thank God that sing and that praise I can.\\nBut to sing and to praise even one brave man!\\nThe thaw-winds blow from mid-day sea.\\nAnd drive the clouds and vapors on-\\nThe mists before the tempests flee,\\nAs flocks before the gaunt wolf run;\\nThe winds o er the fields and the forest rush\\nIn sea and in river the ices crush.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "230 POETIC JEWELS\\nOn towering mountains melt the snow;\\nA thousand avalanches fall;\\nThe valley seems a sea below,\\nAnd grows and swells the flood withal;\\nThe waves are high-rolling away and away,\\nAnd bear the rock ice in their whirling spray.\\nOn ponderous arch and pillars high\\nOf massive free-stone resting firm.\\nThere hangs abridge; and midway by\\nThere stands a house to breast the storm,\\nAnd there live the toll-taker, children and wife\\nO toll-taker, toll-taker, fly for your life!\\nThe toll-house was not tempest proof;\\nLoud roared the storm which o er it beat!\\nThe toll-man leapt upon the roof.\\nAnd gazed upon the tumult great:\\nMerciful Heaven, have pity, he cried\\nLost, lost! who can save! oh my children, my bride.\\nFrom either shore, on either side.\\nThe tempest thunders boom on boom!\\nOn either shore the floods divide.\\nRending each pillar as they come.\\nThe watchman, the children, the trembling wife\\nThey cry even louder than storm and strife.\\nThe tempest thunders, boom on boom!\\nFrom either shore, on either side\\nBursting asunder doom on doom,\\nThe pillars and the arches wide.\\nAnd still in the midst of destruction cry\\nThe doomed on the bridge, from earth to sky.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 231\\nHigh on the distant shore they stand\\nA host of gazers, great and small\\nAnd each one cries and wrings the hand,\\nYet none will dare to save of all!\\nThe watchman, the children, the trembling wife,\\nStill cry for deliverance thro storm and strife.\\nWhen sounds the song of th valiant brave,\\nWhile organ tones and bells prolong!\\nWell timed! but name him name I crave\\nWhen wilt st thou name him, my fine song?\\nE en in the midst of destruction s gulf\\nBrave one and valiant one! show thyself.\\nA noble count comes quickly nigh;\\nUpon a gallant steed is he.\\nWhat does the count s hand hold on high?\\nA purse as full as full can be:^\\nHo! two hundred pieces of gold I give,\\nThat watchman, and children, and wife may live!\\nWas it the count? the brave was who?\\nTell on, my noble song, tell on.\\nBy heaven, the count was brave, tis true;\\nBut yet I knew a braver one.\\nO brave one valiant one, show thyself here:\\nAlready is terrible ruin near!\\nAnd higher yet the billows roll.\\nAnd louder yet the whirlwinds cry.\\nAnd deeper yet will sink the soul!\\nO brave deliverer, hasten nigh!\\nStill pillar by pillar they burst and break;\\nLoud crashing the tumbling arches make.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "232 POETIC JEWELS\\nHo! yet I offer once again!\\nAnd high the count the prize upbears.\\nAll hear and tremble and remain,\\nAnd of the thousand none appears.\\nO, vainly the watchman, the children, the wife,\\nCry frantic for aid through the storm and strife.\\nA plain and simple peasant, see.\\nWith staff in hand is hither led.\\nIn coarse and uncouth robes is he;\\nOf aspect high and bearing dread.\\nHe heard the count s words, saw the purse in the air.\\nAnd viewed the approaching destruction there.\\nThen boldly, in God s name, sprung he\\nInto the first small fishing boat;\\nBraved whirlwind, storm and raging sea;\\nBut leapt successfully afloat\\nBut alas for the watchman! the boat was too small\\nTo be savior at once of wife, children and all.\\nAnd thrice was he compelled to run\\nThro whirlwind, storm and raging waves:\\nAnd thrice he drives successful on.\\nEven until all his valor saves;\\nBut scarcely to shore came they safely at last\\nSo rolled the rock d boat amid billow and blast.\\nWho are the brave then, who the brave?\\nTell on, my noble song, tell on!\\nThe peasant risks his life to save\\nYet clinking gold he looks upon.\\nBut yet, should the count never offer reward,\\nThe bold peasant s feat we should never have heard.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 233\\nHere! said the count, do not be gone!\\nHere is thy prize the purse is full!\\nSay on, my noble song, say on!\\nBy heaven, the count s high wish is null?\\nBut higher, in sooth, and more heavenly fair,\\nIs the heart that the homely-drest peasant brings there.\\nMy life is not on sale for gold\\nI m poor, tis true, but satisfied.\\nGive to the saved the prize you hold\\nHis was the loss; with him divide.\\nSo gave he his heart s native goodness vent;\\nAnd rejoicingly onward he penniless went.\\nEdivard R. Roe.\\nTHE BACHELOR S CANE-BOTTOMED CHAIR.\\nN tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,\\nnd a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars.\\nAway from the world and its toils and its cares,\\nI ve a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.\\nTo mount to this realm is a toil, to be sure,\\nBut the fire there is bright and the air rather pure;\\nAnd the view I behold on a sunshiny day.\\nIs grand through the chimney-pots over the way.\\nThis snug little chamber is crammed in all nooks.\\nWith worthless old knickknacks and silly old books,\\nAnd foolish old odds and foolish old ends,\\nCracked bargains from brokers, cheap keepsakes from\\nfriends.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "234 POETIC JEWELS\\nOld armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all cracked).\\nOld rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed;\\nA two-penny treasure wondrous to see;\\nWhat matter? tis pleasant to you, friend, and me.\\nNo better divan need the Sultan require.\\nThan the creaking old sofa that basks by the fire;\\nAnd tis wonderful, surely, what music you get\\nFrom the rickety, ramshackle, wheezy spinet.\\nThat praying-rug came from a Turcoman s camp;\\nBy Tiber once twinkled that brazen old lamp;\\nA Mameluke fierce yon dagger has drawn;\\nTis a murderous knife to toast muffins upon.\\nLong, long through the hours, and the night and the\\nchimes.\\nHow we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times;\\nAs we sat in a fog made of rich Latakie\\nThis chamber is pleasant to you, friend, and me.\\nBut of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest\\nThere s one that I love and I cherish the best;\\nFor the finest of couches that s padded with hair\\nI never would change thee, my cane-bottomed chair.\\nTis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, worm-eaten seat.\\nWith a creaking old back, and twisted old feet;\\nBut since the fair morning when Fanny sat there,\\nI bless thee, and love thee, old cane-bottomed chair.\\nIf chairs have but feeling in holding such charms,\\nA thrill must have passed through your withered old ar;r..-I\\nI looked, and I longed, and I wished, in despair,\\nI wished myself turned to a cane-bottomed chair.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 235\\nIt was but a moment she sat in this place,\\nShe d a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face!\\nA smile on her face, and a rose in her hair,\\nAnd she sat there, and bloomed in my cane-bottomed\\nchair.\\nAnd so I have valued my chair ever since.\\nLike the shrine of a saint, or the throne of a prince;\\nSaint Fanny my patroness sweet I declare,\\nThe queen of my heart and my cane-bottomed chair.\\nWhen the candles burn low, and the company s gone.\\nIn the silence of night as I sit here alone\\nI sit here alone, but we yet are a pair\\nMy Fanny I see in my cane-bottomed chair.\\nShe comes from the past and revisits my room;\\nShe looks as she then did, all beauty and bloom;\\nSo smiling and tender, so fresh and so fair,\\nAnd yonder she sits in my cane-bottomed chair.\\nW. M. Thackeray.\\nTHE SHIPWRECK.\\nFrom Chambers yimrnal.\\nI^^^^TEADILY blows the north-east wind,\\nAnd the harbor flag blows straight from the mast;\\n^^CAnd the sailors lounge and look on the pier,\\nAnd smoke their pipes, and think it will last.\\nYonder the cloud-rack lowers and glooms,\\nAnd the sweet blue sky is hidden away;\\nWhilst the muttering waves grow hoarse and loud,\\nAnd you have to shout the thing that you say.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "230 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe distant fleet of white-sailed ships\\nCome hastening landward with wet, black sides,\\nAs they lean to the push of the gusty wind,\\nNow a rush, now a pause, on the weltering tides.\\nThe spumy froth of the rock-vexed waves\\nGathers in creaming yeast on the sand;\\nThen away in fluttering flocks it speeds\\nFor edges and hillsides far inland.\\nThe sea-birds dip and wheel in the air.\\nAnd search the surges with greedy eyes;\\nThey hang with tremulous wings on the brink,\\nThen away on the blast with their shrill, sad cries.\\nYonder the people crowd to the cliff,\\nWhere the long, gray grass is flattened and bent\\nAs the stress of the hurricane passes by,\\nEvery eye to seaward is fixed intent.\\nFar down below are the cruel rocks.\\nAll black and slippy with black sea-weed;\\nAnd pits profound, where the whirlpools run,\\nFor ever revolving with hideous speed.\\nHow the ships come! Let them come, poor barks!\\nHere is the harbor quiet and still;\\nOnce entered, the weary crew can sleep.\\nAnd dream of their home without fear of ill.\\nHow the ships come! What s that? A helm\\nIs carried away, and she drifts to the blast;\\nOver her deck sweeps a roaring wave,\\nAnd up in the rigging the crew run fast.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 237\\nOn she comes for the rocks! O men!\\nO maids and mothers! O daughters and wives!\\nYou are sitting at home by the hearth-fire warm,\\nAnd the sea has a hold of your loved ones lives!\\nNow she strikes on the rocks! No aid\\nCan reach her there; she must tumble and roll,\\nTill at last a great third wave will come,\\nAnd eat her up, and ingulf the whole\\nThere they are lashing themselves to the spars!\\nShrill on the wind comes their bitter cry;\\nThey are waving their hands! Out of the main\\nA billow rises, and breaks, and goes by.\\nAll is vanished the ship and the men,\\nCrumbled, and crushed, and hurried away!\\nHere are the splinters on every rock.\\nAll o er the beach, and all round the bay.\\nThere, on the sands, is a sailor s cap;\\nAnd there, close by, a man on his face;\\nAnd there are the others! Oh, cover them quick\\nAnd carry them off from this fatal place!\\nThey are laid in the yard of the weather-worn church,\\nAnd the grass will grow on their quiet grave;\\nBut, O Lord in Heaven, hadst Thou spoke one word.\\nIt had stilled the wind, and curbed the wave!\\nBut perhaps Thou wert speaking. Our ears are dull\\nAnd we cannot discern in this atmosphere;\\nThe men, as they drowned, might have clearer sense\\nMight have heard Thee well and seen Thee near.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "238 POETIC JEWELS\\nWe all must be patient, and bear our part\\nIn the periled toil of a wreckful world;\\nBut some Heavenly Rest may be found at last,\\nWhen the anchors are down, and the sails are furled.\\nAnonymous.\\nEXCELSIOR.\\n(T^^^^YiK shades of night were falling fast,\\nAs through an Alpine village passed\\nA youth, who bore, mid snow and ice,\\ni A banner with this strange device.\\nExcelsior!\\nHis brow was sad; his eye beneath.\\nFlashed like a falchion from its sheath,\\nAnd like a silver clarion rung\\nThe accents of that unknown tongue,\\nExcelsior!\\nIn happy homes he saw the light\\nOf household fires gleam warm and bright;\\nAbove, the spectral glaciers shone,\\nAnd from his lips escaped a groan,\\nExcelsior!\\nTry not the pass! the old man said;\\nDark lowers the tempest overhead;\\nThe roaring torrent is deep and wide!\\nAnd loud that clarion voice replied,\\nExcelsior!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "A DESPERATE FLIRTATION,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 241\\nOh, stay, the maiden said, and rest\\nThy weary head upon this breast!\\nA tear stood in his bright blue eye,\\nBut still he answered, with a sigh,\\nExcelsior!\\nBeware the pine-tree s withered branch!\\nBeware the awful avalanche!\\nThis was the peasant s last good-night;\\nA voice replied, far up the height,\\nExcelsior!\\nAt break of day, as heavenward\\nThe pious monks of Saint Bernard\\nUttered the oft-repeated prayer,\\nA voice cried, through the startled air,\\nExcelsior!\\nA traveler, by the faithful hound.\\nHalf-buried in the snow was found.\\nStill grasping in his hand of ice\\nThat banner with the strange device,\\nExcelsior!\\nThere in the twilight cold and gray.\\nLifeless, but beautiful, he lay;\\nAnd from the sky, serene and far,\\nA voice fell, Hke a falling star,\\nExcelsior!\\nHenry W. Longfellow.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "242 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE FOUNDING OF THE BELL.\\nARK! how the furnace pants and roars,\\nHark! how the molten metal pours,\\nAs, bursting from its iron doors,\\nIt glitters in the sun.\\nNow through the ready mold it flows,\\nSeething and hissing as it goes,\\nAnd filling every crevice up\\nAs the red vintage fills the cup:\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nUnswathe him now. Take off each stay\\nThat binds him to his couch of clay,\\nAnd let him struggle into day:\\nLet chain and pulley run,\\nWith yielding crank and steady rope,\\nUntil he rise from rim to cope,\\nIn rounded beauty, ribb d in strength.\\nWithout a flaw in all his length:\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nShould foemen lift their haughty hand,\\nAnd dare invade us where we stand,\\nFast by the altars of our land\\nWe ll gather every one,\\nAnd he shall ring the loud alarm,\\nTo call the multitudes to arm.\\nFrom distant field and forest brown,\\nAnd teeming alleys of the town:\\nHurra, the work is done", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 243\\nAnd as the solemn boom they hear,\\nOld men shall grasp the idle spear,\\nLaid by to rust for many a year,\\nAnd to the struggle run;\\nYoung men shall leave their toils or books,\\nOr turn to sword their pruning hooks;\\nAnd maids have sweetest smiles for those\\nWho battle with their country s foes:\\nHurra, the work is done!\\nThe clapper on his giant side\\nShall ring no peal for blushing bride,\\nFor birth, or death, or new-year-tide,\\nOr festival begun.\\nA nation s joy alone shall be\\nThe signal for his revelry;\\nAnd for a nation s woes alone\\nHis melancholy tongue shall moan:\\nHurra the work is done!\\nBorne on the gale, deep-toned and clear.\\nHis long, loud summons shall we hear,\\nWhen statesmen to the country dear\\nTheir mortal race have run:\\nWhen mighty monarchs yield their breathj\\nAnd patriots sleep the sleep of death,\\nThen shall he raise his voice of gloom.\\nAnd peal a requiem o er their tomb:\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nAnd when the cannon s iron throat\\nShall bear the news to dells remote,\\nAnd trumpet blast resound the note,\\nThat victory is won;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "244 POETIC JEWELS\\nWhen down the wind the banner drops,\\nAnd bonfires blaze on mountain tops,\\nHis sides shall glow with fierce delight,\\nAnd ring glad peals from morn to night;\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nBut of such scenes forbear to tell\\nMay never War awake this bell\\nTo sound the tocsin or the knell.\\nHush d be the alarum gun!\\nSheath d be the sword! and may his voice\\nBut call the nations to rejoice\\nThat War his tatter d flag has furled,\\nAnd vanished from a wiser world:\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nStill may he ring when struggles cease,\\nStill may he ring for joy s increase,\\nFor progress in the arts of peace.\\nAnd friendly trophies won.\\nWhen rival nations join their hands.\\nWhen plenty crowns the happy lands.\\nWhen knowledge gives new blessings birth\\nAnd freedom reigns o er all the earth:\\nHurra! the work is done!\\nCharles Mackay.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 245\\nA LEGEND OF LAKE SUPERIOR.\\nONEQUA was a chieftain s son\\nMonequa, woe-betide!\\nThe Spirit of the Waters spun\\nA charm about his bride,\\nAnd bore her off in deadly waves,\\nUnknown to all beside.\\nAnd when he knew himself bereft,\\nHe bowed him right, he bowed him left;\\nHe knelt toward the east;\\nAnd thus with plea and purpose deft,\\nHe prayed the medicine-priest:\\nMy bow and quiver hanging in the tent,\\nMy robe of skins, my all shall sure be thine;\\nBut tell me where the water-spirit went,\\nAnd where Mehaha, wedded wife of mine?\\nQuoth thus the medicine-man: Mehaha flies\\nAdown the lake, among the isles that rise\\nMidwater, and along each shore away.\\nFor thirteen days of voyage, day by day!\\nThe spirit of the waters laughs in scorn\\nThat chief so young and bold should be forlorn,\\nAnd bids you seek in following canoe\\nWhere er he lurks, still daring to pursue.\\nBut know that not Superior s face alone\\nMay ripple as the flying pair pass on:\\nBut each bright lake or flowing stream may hide\\nWithin its own o ershaded banks your bride.\\nRetain your bow, your arrows, your keen knife;\\nLeap in the swift canoe reck not for life", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "240 POETIC JEWELS\\nFollow the snow-white gull where er he flies,\\nAnd find your bride where that weird leader dies.\\nMonequa bears his birchen boat,\\nTis quickly in the lake afloat;\\nHis arms, his skins, his flint and steel\\nAre safe within the arrowy keel\\nHis scanty store of pemmican,\\nDried venison, corn, and earthen pan,\\nHis sole utensil these were all;\\nAnd swift he flew at duty s call.\\nA bark canoe is light and frail:\\nBut watery wave nor stormy gale\\nHad power to make the boatman quail.\\nThe waves were down, the wind was low;\\nMonequa drove his light canoe\\nDue west, as straight as twanging bow\\nPropels the arrow swift and true.\\nHe gazed abroad upon the lake,\\nAnd straight before his brow there stirred\\nA line of ripples in the wake\\nOf some unwonted swimming bird.\\nFrom tail to beak twas snowy white;\\nIts form was neither duck nor dove;\\nIts rounded breast threw back the light\\nLike shining snow-flakes in their flight;\\nAnd wondering what the bird should prove\\nWhich came so suddenly to sight,\\nHe gazed and wondered as he gazed\\nThe bird spread out his pinions full,\\nAnd while Monequa sat amazed,\\nUp flew a snow-white gull.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS M7\\nWhat lured the snow-white gull up North,\\nSo far from genial wind and wave?\\nHad storm and tempest driven it forth\\nTo lands which boreal waters lave?\\nOr did the feathery form he bore\\nBut hide a spirit-bird w^ithin,\\nTo lure Monequa from the shore,\\nTo waters he had never seen?\\nHe knew not and he recked not now:\\nHe only sought to drive his prow\\nWhere er the snow-white gull alluring flies,\\nAnd find his bride where that weird leader dies.\\nDue west the fair and treacherous pilot flew:\\nDue west did lorn Monequa still pursue;\\nTill o er the lake Isle Royale rose to view,\\nAnd by its shore he moored his birch canoe.\\nRising from out the old Silurian sea\\nA rocky mount thrown up by fire s decree\\nIsle Royale stands amid the vasty lake,\\nWhose full three thousand leagues of waters break\\nIn wintry storms, or rest in calm repose\\nWhen waves lie still and not a zephyr blows\\nWithin the wall-rocks of a deep fiord,\\nMonequa gazed, but uttered ne er a word.\\nAround him rose, in strange, fantastic forms,\\nWrought out by time and sculptured by rude storms\\nOf many ages, rocks which towered on high\\nRude monuments to mark how cliffs may die.\\nTall pines and hoary cedars at the base\\nTowered up in vain to reach the loftiest place;\\nWhile hardy shrubs adorn the craggy tops,\\nAnd boreal birds flit through the tangled copse.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "248 POETIC JEWELS\\nDown from a cliff Monequa quick withdrew,\\nShot from the shore his ready bark canoe,\\nAnd straight before him up the white gull flew!\\nThen over the lake in the white gull s wake\\nMonequa hastened to pursue.\\nWithin a quiet harbor at Grand Isle,\\nMonequa moors his boat. Around him pile\\nThe massive rocks in rugged majesty.\\nBut not for him the royal pageantry\\nOf mimic tower and monumental rock!\\nSlow-swimming in the island s sheltered dock\\nThe white gull looks into his saddened eyes\\nWith eyes as sad as his; then flies\\nWith gentle wing to where the Pictured Rocks\\nAdorn the southern shore with sculptured blocks\\nOf nature s architecture. There once more\\nHe follows, skimming eastward in his skiff\\nOf birchen bark, still scanning every cliff.\\nSkirting along the walls of sculptured rock,\\nMonequa sought t avoid the breakers shock,\\nAnd entered by an archway vast and dim\\nA gloomy vault, for goblins and for him.\\nWithin he rested in his frail canoe,\\nAnd slept where none but spirits dare pursue.\\nThe baffled light was struggling faintly in;\\nThe throbbing waves subdued their wonted din,\\nAnd poured re-echoing murmurs through the gloom.\\nMarking the cavern as a cave of doom.\\n/V white gull entered through the gaping arch;\\nThe spirits of the place, in fitful march.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 249\\nAs if in answer to the bird s command\\nMuttered in mystic words on every hand\\nInto dull ears that slept and heard them not.\\nThus sang the murmuring lake Mehaha s lot:\\nOn a cliff where spirits keep,\\nFair Mehahasank to sleep;\\nStarted up from slumber deep,\\nPlunging with a deadly leap\\nSank five fathoms in the lake\\nIn the spirit-land to wake!\\nO er her gentle breezes blew,\\nMourning all the night-long through;\\nGently moving currents bore,\\nFrom the steep and fatal shore,\\nDead Mehaha s drifting form\\nDeep beneath the wave and storm.\\nThen the buoyant body rose,\\nFloating where the west-wind blows.\\nWaters green around her\\nThere the breezes found her;\\nWith the white foam crowned her,\\nWafting her away!\\nThen came the west- wind s lay:\\nIn the mournful moonlight\\nIn the gUmmering starlight\\nIn the summer sunlight\\nEastward day by day,\\nPassed the gentle maiden.\\nNever wave was laden\\nWith a lovelier maiden!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "250 POETIC JEWELS\\nNever breezes blew\\nMore for waif forbearing\\nWith the form twas sparing,\\nAll the sad way through!\\nIn the cavern s cover\\nAll her ills are over;\\nAll the rocks above her\\nAll the spirits round\\nDeem her body holy;\\nWhile the dead so lowly\\nSinks forever slowly\\nIn the deep profound!\\nThen the cavern uttered\\nThis sad song, and muttered:\\nThrough my gloomy arches\\nSorrowing echoes moan;\\nMuffled funeral marches\\nSound from stone to stone.\\nComing from the surges\\nLow and woe-begone.\\nFrom the outer verges\\nWhere the daylight shone,\\nNot a beam emerges:\\nBut a shadowy tone,\\nKeeping with the dirges\\nSounding low and lone,\\nFuneral watch and loving guard\\nWith apt and answering accord.\\nIn my deep recesses\\nIn my hollow dome", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 251\\nDarkness which oppresses\\nGuards her silent home.\\nWake, Monequa! waken!\\nNever sleep was taken\\nIn so sad a scene.\\nNever bird has guided\\nGroom from bride divided\\nWith so sad a mien.\\nWaken waken waken\\nUpstarting with habitual marksman s skill,\\nMonequa seized the bow with quickening will;\\nAffixed an arrow, drew it to the head\\nA glance a twang the snow-white gull was dead!\\nQuick-gliding where the dead bird floating lies,\\nHis fleet canoe shoots forward for the prize\\nHe finds Mehaha where the white-gull dies.\\nEdiuard R. Roe.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "252\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nTHE SWALLOWS.\\nF7-o?n the Ft-ench of Jean Pierre Claris Florian.\\nOW I love to see the swallows\\nAt my window every year,\\nFor they bring the happy tidings,\\nSmiling spring is drawing near.\\nIn the same nest, soft they whispei\\nHappy love once more shall dwell;\\nOiily lovers who are faithful\\nTidings of the spring should tell.\\nWhen beneath the icy fingers\\nOf the first frosts fall the leaves,\\nSwallows gather on the house-tops,\\nSinging as they quit the eaves,\\nHaste away, the sunshine s fading.\\nCruel winds the snow will bring;\\nFaithful love can know no winter;\\nWhere it dwells is always spring.\\nIf unhappy! one be taken\\nBy a cruel infant s hand,\\nCaged and parted from its lover\\nCaptive in the winter land;\\nSoon you ll see it die of sorrow,\\nWhile its mate, still lingering nigh,\\nKnows no further joy in sunshine.\\nBut on the same day will die.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "THE WHISPERS OF LOVE.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "15\\nPOETIC JEWELS :S5\\nTWO LOVERS.\\nWO lovers by a moss-grown spring:\\nThey leaned soft cheeks together there,\\nMingled the dark and sunny hair,\\nAnd heard the wooing thrushes sing.\\nO budding time!\\nO love s blest prime!\\nTwo wedded from the portal stept;\\nThe bells made happy carolings.\\nThe air was soft as fanning wings,\\nWhite petals on the pathway slept.\\nO pure-eyed bride!\\nO tender pride!\\nTwo faces o er a cradle bent:\\nTwo hands above the head were locked;\\nThese pressed each other while they rocked.\\nThose watched a life that love had sent.\\nO solemn hour!\\nO hidden power!\\nTwo parents by the evening fire:\\nThe red light fell about their knees.\\nOn heads that rose by slow degrees,\\nLike buds upon the lily spire.\\nO patient life!\\nO tender strife!\\nThe two still sat together there,\\nThe red light shone about their knees;\\nBut all the heads, by slow degrees.\\nHad gone and left that lonely pair.\\nO voyage fast!\\nO vanished past!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "250 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe red light shone upon the floor,\\nAnd made the space between them wide;\\nThey drew their chairs up side by side,\\nTheir pale cheeks joined, and said Once more!\\nO memories!\\nO past that is!\\nGeorge Eliot.\\nTHE CHILDREN S HOUR.\\n^^^f ETWEEN the dark and the daylight,\\n^^k When the night is beginning to lower,\\nA^^ Comes a pause in the day s occupations,\\nThat is known as the children s hour.\\nI hear in the chamber above me,\\nThe patter of little feet;\\nThe sound of a door that is opened,\\nAnd voices soft and sweet.\\nFrom my study I see in the lamplight,\\nDescending the broad hall stair,\\nGrave Alice, and laughing Allegra,\\nAnd Edith, with golden hair.\\nA whisper, and then a silence.\\nYet I know by their merry eyes\\nThey are plotting and planning together\\nTo take me by surprise.\\nA sudden rush from the stairway;\\nA sudden raid from the hall;\\nBy three doors left unguarded.\\nThey enter my castle-wall.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\nThey climb up into my turret,\\nO er the arms and back of my chair;\\nIf I try to escape, they surround me;\\nThey seem to be everywhere.\\nThey almost devour me with kisses.\\nTheir arms about me entwine.\\nTill I think of the Bishop of Bingen,\\nIn his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine.\\nDo you think, O blue-eyed banditti,\\nBecause you have scaled the wall,\\nSuch an old mustache as I am\\nIs not a match for you all?\\nI have you fast in my fortress,\\nAnd will not let you depart,\\nBut put you into the dungeon,\\nIn the Round-Tower of my heart.\\nAnd there will I keep you forever\\nYes, forever and a day;\\nTill the walls shall crumble to ruin.\\nAnd molder in dust away.\\nHenry W. Longfellow.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "258 POETIC JEWELS\\nHAMLET AND HIS MOTHER.\\nFrom the Tragedy of Hamlet.\\nAct hi., Scene IV. The Queen s Closet.\\nEnter the Queen and Polonius.\\nPolo. He will come straight. Look you lay home\\nto him:\\nTell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with;\\nAnd that your Grace hath screened and stood between\\nMuch heat and him. I ll sconce me even here.\\nPray you, be round with him.\\nHam. \\\\_Within. Mother, mother, mother!\\nQueen. I ll warrant you:\\nFear me not. Withdraw; I hear him coming.\\n[Polonius Jiidcs behind the arras.\\nEnter Hamlet.\\nHam. Now, mother, what s the matter?\\nQueen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.\\nHam. Mother, you have my father much offended.\\nQueen. Come, come; you answer me with an idle\\ntongue.\\nHam. Go, go; you question me with a wicked tongue.\\nQueen. Why, how now, Hamlet? What s the matter\\nnow?\\nHave you forgot me?\\nHam. No, by the rood, not so:\\nYou are the Queen, your husband s brother s wife;\\nAnd would it were not so! you are my mother.\\nQueen. Nay, then I ll set those to you that can speak.\\nHam. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not\\nbudge:", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 259\\nYou go not till I set you up a glass\\nWhere you may see the inmost part of you.\\nQueen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?\\nHelp, help, ho!\\nPo/o. \\\\_Behind.^ What, ho! help, help, help!\\nHani. [^Draiving How now! a rat? Dead, for a\\nducat, dead! \\\\^Makes a pass through the arras.\\nPolo. \\\\_Behind.^ O, I am slain!\\nQueen. O me! what hast thou done?\\nHam. Nay, I know not: is it the King?\\nQueen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!\\nHam. A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,\\nas kill a king, and marry with his brother.\\nQueeti. As kill a king!\\nHani. Ay, lady, twas my word\\nl^Lifts up the arras and discovers Polonius.\\nThou wretched, rash-intruding fool, farewell!\\nI took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;\\nThou find st to be too busy is some danger\\nLeave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down\\nAnd let me wring your heart: for so I shall,\\nIf it be made of penetrable stuff:\\nIf damned custom have not cross d it so,\\nThat it is proof and bulwark against sense.\\nQueen. What have I done, that thou darest wag thy\\ntongue\\nIn noise so rude against me?\\nHam. Such an act\\nThat blurs the grace and blush of modesty:\\nCalls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose\\nFrom the fair forehead of an innocent love,\\nAnd sets a blister there; makes marriage vows\\nAs false as dicers oaths: O, such a deed", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "260 POETIC JEWELS\\nAs from the body of contraction plucks\\nThe very soul; and sweet religion makes\\nA rhapsody of words: Heaven s face doth glow;\\nYea, this solidity and compound mass,\\nWith tristful visage, as against the doom,\\nIs thought-sick at the act.\\nQueen. Ah me, what act,\\nThat roars so loud and thunders in the index?\\nHam. Look here upon this picture, and on this,\\nThe counterfeit presentment of two brothers.\\nSee what a grace was seated on this brow;\\nHyperion s curls; the front of Jove himself;\\nAn eye like Mars, to threaten and command;\\nA station like the herald Mercury\\nNew-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;\\nA combination and a form indeed.\\nWhere every god did seem to set his seal,\\nTo give the world assurance of a man:\\nThis was your husband. Look you now what follows:\\nHere is your husband; like a mildew d ear.\\nBlasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?\\nCould you on this fair mountain leave to feed,\\nAnd batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?\\nYou cannot call it love; for at your age\\nThe heyday in the blood is tame, it s humble.\\nAnd waits upon the judgment: and what judgment\\nWould step from this to this? Sense, sure you have,\\nElse could you not have motion; but sure that sense\\nIs apoplexed: for madness would not err,\\nNor sense to ecstacy was ne er so thrall d.\\nBut it reserved some quantity of choice.\\nTo serve in such a difference. What devil was t\\nThat thus hath cozen d you at hoodnian blind?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 261\\nEyes without feeling, feeling without sight,\\nEars without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,\\nOr but a sickly part of one true sense\\nCould not so mope.\\nO shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious Hell,\\nIf thou canst mutine in a matron s bones.\\nTo flaming youth let virtue be as wax,\\nAnd melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame,\\nWhen the compulsive ardor gives the charge,\\nSince frost itself as actively doth burn,\\nAnd reason panders will.\\nQueen. O Hamlet, speak no more!\\nThou turn st mine eyes into my very soul;\\nAnd there I see such black and grained spots\\nAs will not leave their tinct.\\nHam. Nay, but to live\\nStew d in corruption\\nQueen. O, speak to me no more!\\nThese words like daggers enter in mine ears:\\nNo more, sweet Hamlet!\\nHam. A murderer and a villain;\\nA slave that is not twentieth part the tithe\\nOf your precedent lord; a Vice of kings!\\nA cutpurse of the empire and the rule,\\nTiiat from a shelf the precious diadem stole,\\nAnd put it in his pocket!\\nQueen. No more!\\nHam. A king of shreds and patches\\nEnter the Ghost.\\nSave me and hover o er me with your wings,\\nYou heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?\\nQueen. Alas, he s mad!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "262 POETIC JEWELS\\nHam. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,\\nThat, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by\\nTh important acting of your dread command?\\nO, say!\\nGhost. Do not forget. This visitation\\nIs but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.\\nBut, look, amazement on thy mother sits:\\nO, step between her and her fighting soul!\\nConceit in weakest bodies strongest works.\\nSpeak to her, Hamlet.\\nHam. How is t with you, lady?\\nQitecH. Alas, how is t with you,\\nThat you do bend your eye on vacancy.\\nAnd with th incorporal air do hold discourse?\\nForth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;\\nAnd, as the sleeping soldiers in th alarm,\\nYour bedded hairs, like life in excrements.\\nStart up, and stand on end. O gentle son,\\nUpon the heat and flame of thy distemper\\nSprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?\\nHam. Onhim, onhim! Look you, how pale he glares,\\nHis form and cause conjoin d, preaching to stones.\\nWould make them capable. Do not look upon me;\\nLest with this piteous action you convert\\nMy stern affects: then what I have to do\\nWill want true color; tears, perchance, for blood.\\nQueen. To whom do you speak this?\\nHam. Do you see nothing there?\\nQueen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.\\nHam. Nor did you nothing hear?\\nQueen. No, nothing but ourselves.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 263\\nHam. Why, look you there! look, how it steals awa}!\\nMy father, in his habit as he lived\\nLook, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!\\n\\\\_Exit Ghost.\\nQueen. This is the very coinage of your brain:\\nThis bodiless creation ecstasy\\nIs very cunning in.\\nHani. Ecstasy!\\nMy pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,\\nAnd makes as healthful music: tis not madness\\nThat I have uttered: bring me to the test,\\nAnd I the matter will re-word; which madness\\nWould gambol from. Mother, for love of grace.\\nLay not that flattering unction to your soul,\\nThat not your trespass but my madness speaks:\\nIt will but skim and film the ulcerous place,\\nWhilst rank corruption, mining all within,\\nInfects unseen. Confess yourself to Heaven;\\nRepent what s past, avoid what is to come;\\nAnd do not spread the compost on the weeds,\\nTo make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;\\nFor in the fatness of these pursy times\\nVirtue itself of vice must pardon beg.\\nYea, courb and woo for leave to do him good.\\nQueen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.\\nHam. O, throw away the worser part of it\\nAnd live the purer with the other half.\\nGood night: but go not to my uncle s bed;\\nAssume a virtue, if you have it not.\\nThat monster, custom, who all sense doth eat\\nOf habits evil, is angel yet in this.\\nThat to the use of actions fair and good\\nHe likewise gives a frock or livery.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "264 POETIC JEWELS\\nThat aptly is put on. Refrain to night,\\nAnd that shall lend a kind of easiness\\nTo the next abstinence: the next more easy;\\nFor use almost can change the stamp of nature,\\nAnd either shame the devil or throw him out\\nWith wondrous potency. Once more, good night:\\nAnd when you are desirous to be blest,\\nI ll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,\\n[^Pointing to Polonius.\\nI do repent: but Heaven hath pleased it so,\\nTo punish me with this and this with me,\\nThat I must be their scourge and minister.\\nI will bestow him, and will answer well\\nThe death I gave him. So, again, good night.\\n\\\\^Aside. I must be cruel, only to be kind:\\nThus bad begins, and worse remains behind.\\nWilliam Shakespeare.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "SHAKESPEARE\\nTHE FOUNTAIN-HEAD OF QUOT\\\\TIONS", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "P OETIC JE WELS 207\\nJUNE.\\n[Among the minor poems of Bryant, none has so much impressed me as the\\none which he entitles June. Tiie rhythmical flow here is even voluptuous\\nnothing could be more melodious. The poem has always affected me in a\\nremarkable manner. The intense melancholy which seems to well up, pet\\nforce, to the surface of all the poet s cheerful sayings about his grave, we find\\nthrilling us to the soul while there is the truest poetic elevation in the thrill.\\nThe impression left is one of pleasurable sadness. Edgar Allan Foe.\\nGAZED upon the glorious sky\\nAnd the green mountains round;\\nAnd thought, that when I came to lie\\nWithin the silent ground,\\nTwere pleasant, that in flowery June,\\nWhen brooks send up a cheerful tune,\\nAnd groves a joyous sound,\\nThe sexton s hand my grave to make,\\nThe rich green mountain turf should break.\\nA cell within the frozen mold,\\nA coffin borne through sleet.\\nAnd icy clods above it rolled.\\nWhile fierce the tempests beat\\nAway! I will not think of these\\nBlue be the sky and soft the breeze.\\nEarth green beneath the feet.\\nAnd be the damp mold gently pressed\\nInto my narrow place of rest.\\nThere, through the long, long summer hours\\nThe golden light should lie.\\nAnd thick young herbs and groups of flowers\\nStand in their beauty by,\\nThe oriole should build and tell\\ntlis love-tale close beside my cell;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "2(J8 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe idle butterfly-\\nShould rest him there, and there be heard\\nThe housewife -bee and humming-bird.\\nAnd what if cheerful shouts, at noon,\\nCome from the village sent,\\nOr songs of maids, beneath the moon,\\nWith fairy laughter blent?\\nAnd what if, in the evening light,\\nBetrothed lovers walk in sight\\nOf my low monument?\\nI would the lovely scene around\\nMight know no sadder sight nor sound.\\nI know, I know I should not see\\nThe season s glorious show.\\nNor would its brightness shine for me,\\nNor its wild music flow;\\nBut if, around my place of sleep.\\nThe friends I love should come to weep.\\nThey might not haste to go.\\nSoft airs, and song, and light, and bloom.\\nShould keep them lingering by my tomb.\\nThese to their softened hearts should bear\\nThe thought of what has been.\\nAnd speak of one who cannot share\\nThe gladness of the scene;\\nWhose part, in all the pomp that fills\\nThe circuit of the summer hills,\\nIs that his grave is green;\\nAnd deeply would their hearts rejoice\\nTo hear, again, his living voice.\\nWilliam Cnllcn Bryant.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\n269\\n**A GOOD, GREAT NAME.\\nFrances E. Willard. Chas. T. Kimball.\\nle\\n5^\\nJSr\\n1. A good, great name! So speak the\\n--5. .-^-T 6 1 6i-\\nz\\nbells,\\n111 deep, clear tones\\n9f|g=S=?^^\\n-I r-4\u00e2\u0080\u0094 -^3 r\\nLfe;\\nt:\\n5^-1^\\n:l\\na.\\nI\\n1^=\\nm\\nWith one of his fry s no blest spells,\\n\u00c2\u00b11^:\\nix-\\n^it\\n11.9 I\\nAnd tunes my\\n~%K\\nheart\\nto\\np\\nCK\\n4=\\n:t\\npa triot s\\nI\\nkey.\\n-(2-\\nA good, great name! What millionaire\\nHas ever been remembered so?\\nWhat selfish life may ever share\\nThe praise that makes these echoes flow?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "270 POETIC JEWELLS\\nA good, great name! it speaks to me\\nOf love to God and love to men;\\nThose unities in which agree\\nBoth Now and Here, both There and Then.\\nA good, great name! the tuneful bells\\nRing on and on in their delight,\\nWhile my glad heart with purpose swells\\nTo serve my country with my might.\\nA good, great name! It is the goal\\nOf all this splendid world can give;\\nIts conquest well may nerve the soul\\nFor man to die, for God to live.\\nA good, great name! Oh, Washington!\\nWe may not climb where thou hast stood,\\nCrowned with the people s loud Well done!\\nA Pharos in time s rolling flood.\\nBut to our measure s perfect height\\nLet each climb on toward generous fame;\\nSo may the future s bells delight\\nTo ring for us A good, great name;\\nOr sweet and low the human heart\\nShall gently chime our holier fame;\\nBeyond the magic of man s art\\nIt shall sing on, A good, great name!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 271\\nTHE FROST SPIRIT.\\nE comes he comes the Frost Spirit comes.\\nYou may trace his foot-steps now\\nOn the naked woods, and the blasted fields, and the\\nbrown hill s withered brow.\\nHe has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their\\npleasant green came forth,\\nAnd the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have\\nshaken them down to earth.\\nHe comes becomes the Frost Spirit comes! from\\nthe frozen Labrador\\nFrom the icy bridge of the northern seas, which the white\\nbear wanders o er\\nWhere the fisherman s sail is stiff with ice, and the luck-\\nless forms below.\\nIn the sunless cold of the lingering night, into marble\\nstatues grow!\\nHe comes he comes the Frost Spirit comes! \u00e2\u0080\u0094on the\\nrushing northern blast,\\nAnd the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful\\nbreath went past.\\nWith an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the\\nfires of Hecla glow\\nOn the darkly beautiful sky above, and the ancient ice\\nbelow.\\nHe comes he comes the Frost Spirit comes! and\\nthe quiet lake shall feel\\nThe torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the\\nskater s heel;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "272 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or\\nsang to the leaning grass,\\nShall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful\\nsilence pass.\\nHe comes he comes the Frost Soirit comes! let us\\nmeet him as we may.\\nAnd turn with the light of the parlor fire his evil power\\naway;\\nAnd gather closer the circle round, when that firelight\\ndances high,\\nAnd laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sound-\\ning wing goes by!\\nJo/u/ G. Whitticr.\\nA PSALM OF LIFE.\\nWHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE\\nPSALMIST.\\nELL me not, in mournful numbers,\\nLife is but an empty dream!\\nFor the soul is dead that slumbers,\\nAnd things are not what they seem.\\nLife is real! Life is earnest!\\nAnd the grave is not its goal;\\nDust thou art, to dust returnest,\\nWas not spoken of the soul.\\nNot enjoyment, and not sorrow,\\nIs our destined end or way;\\nBut to act, that each to-morrow\\nFind us farther than to-day.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 273\\nArt is long, and Time is fleeting,\\nAnd our hearts, though stout and brave,\\nStill, like muffled drums are beating\\nFuneral marches to the grave.\\nIn the world s broad field of battle,\\nIn the bivouac of life.\\nBe not like dumb, driven cattle!\\nBe a hero in the strife!\\nTrust no future, howe er pleasant!\\nLet the dead Past bury its dead!\\nAct act in the living Present!\\nHeart within, and God o erhead!\\nLives of great men all remind us\\nWe can make our lives sublime,\\nAnd, departing, leave behind us\\nFootprints on the sands of time;\\nFootprints, that perhaps another,\\nSailing o er life s solemn main,\\nA forlorn and shipwrecked brother,\\nSeeing, shall take heart again.\\nLet us, then, be up and doing.\\nWith a heart for any fate;\\nStill achieving, still pursuing,\\nLearn to labor and to wait.\\nHenry W. Loti^feiiow.\\n16", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "274 P OETIG JE WELS\\nTHE RAVEN.\\nNCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,\\nweak and weary,\\nver many a quaint and curious volume of for-\\ngotten lore\\nWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a\\ntapping,\\nAs of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber\\ndoor.\\nTis some visitor, I muttered, tapping at my chamber\\ndoor;\\nOnly this, and nothing more.\\nAh, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,\\nAnd each separate, dying ember wrought its ghost upon\\nthe floor.\\nEagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to\\nborrow\\nFrom my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost\\nLenore\\nFor the rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name\\nLenore,\\nNameless here forevermore.\\nAnd the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple\\ncurtain\\nThrilled me, filled me with fantastic terrors never felt\\nbefore;\\nSo that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood\\nrepeating,\\nTis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber\\ndoor.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 275\\nSome late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber\\ndoor;\\nThis it is, and nothing more.\\nPresently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,\\nSir, said I, or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;\\nBut the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came\\nrapping.\\nAnd so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber\\ndoor.\\nThat I scarce was sure I heard you. Here I opened wide\\nthe door:\\nDarkness there, and nothing more.\\nDeep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, won-\\ndering, fearing.\\nDoubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream\\nbefore;\\nBut the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no\\ntoken.\\nAnd the only word there spoken was the whispered word,\\nLenore;\\nThis I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,\\nLenore.\\nMerely this, and nothing more.\\nBack into the chamber turning, all my soul within me\\nburning,\\nSoon again I heard a tapping, something louder than\\nbefore\\nSurely, said I, surely, that is something at my window\\nlattice;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "276 POETIC JEWELS\\nLet me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore,\\nLet my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore;\\nTis the wind, and nothing more.\\nOpen here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and\\nflutter,\\nIn there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of\\nyore\\nNot the least obeisance made he; not a moment stopped or\\nstayed he;\\nBut, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber\\ndoor.\\nPerched upon the bust of Pallas, just above my chamber\\ndoor;\\nPerched, and sat, and nothing more.\\nThen this ebon bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,\\nBy the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it\\nwore,\\nThough thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said,\\nart sure no craven.\\nGhastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the\\nnightly shore.\\nTell me what thy lordly name is on the night s Plutonian\\nshore.\\nQuoth the raven, Nevermore.\\nMuch I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so\\nplainly,\\nThough its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;\\nFor we cannot help agreeing that no living human being\\nEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber\\ndoor,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 277\\nBird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber\\ndoor,\\nWith such name as Nevermore.\\nBut the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke\\nonly\\nThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did\\noutpour.\\nNothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he\\nfluttered;\\nTill I scarcely more than muttered, Other friends have\\nflown before;\\nOn the morrow /le will leave me, as my hopes have flown\\nbefore.\\nThen the bird said, Nevermore.\\nStartled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,\\nDoubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and\\nstore,\\nCaught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful dis-\\naster\\nFollowed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden\\nbore,\\nTill the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore.\\nOf Never nevermore!\\nBut the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,\\nStraight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and\\nbust and door;\\nThen upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking\\nFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore,\\nWhat this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous\\nbird of yore\\nMeant in croaking, Nevermore.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "278 POETIC JEWELS\\nThis I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing\\nTo the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom s\\ncore;\\nThis and more I sat divining, with my head in ease\\nreclining\\nOn the cushion s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated\\no er.\\nBut whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating\\no er,\\nShe shall press, ah, nevermore.\\nThen, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an\\nunseen censer,\\nowung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted\\nfloor,\\nWretch! I cried, thy God hath lent thee, by these\\nangels he hath sent thee\\nRespite respite and nepenthe from thy memories of\\nLenore!\\nQuaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost\\nLenore!\\nQuoth the raven, Nevermore.\\nProphet, said I, thing of evil! prophet sull, if bird or\\ndevil!\\nWhether tempter sent, or tempest tossed thee here\\nashore\\nDesolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,\\nOn this home by Horror haunted tell me truly, I im-\\nplore\\nIs there is there balm in Gilead? tell me, I implore!\\nQuoth the raven, Nevermore.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 279\\nProphet! said I, thing of evil prophet still, if bird\\nor devil!\\nBy that heaven that bends above us by that God we\\nboth adore\\nTell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant\\nAidenn,\\nIt shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name\\nLenore\\nClasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name\\nLenore.\\nQuoth the raven, Nevermore.\\nBe that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! I shrieked,\\nupstarting,\\nGet thee back into the tempest and the night s Plutonian\\nshore!\\nLeave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath\\nspoken!\\nLeave my loneliness unbroken quit the bust above my\\ndoor!\\nTake thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from\\noff my door!\\nQuoth the raven, Nevermore.\\nAnd the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting\\nOn the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door.\\nAnd his eyes have all the seeming of a demon s that is\\ndreaming;\\nAnd the lamplight o er him streaming, throws his shadow\\non the floor;\\nAnd my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on\\nthe floor\\nShall be lifted nevermore.\\nEdgar Allan Poe.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "280\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nA LEGEND OF TRANSMIGRATION.\\nKNOW a land where crafty priests\\nTeach tenets strange, and still declare\\nThat souls of men migrate to beasts,\\nAnd expiate their sinnings there.\\nAnd live within another life.\\nAnd in another being bear\\nThe penalty of sin and strife\\nDesert for all their misdeeds here.\\nI know not if the creed be true\\nIt passes all discreet belief;\\nAnd only seek to tell to you\\nThe story of a priestly chief,\\nA sad old man, whose tale was new\\nAlbeit, neither sane nor brief.\\nAnd now I tell the story through\\nHe told me for his soul s relief.\\nHis words were passionless and low,\\nAnd trembled with the weight of years;\\nBut in his face his thoughts would glow,\\nAnd in his eyes the trembling tears\\nWould fain resist the overflow,\\nAs long remembered hopes and fears\\nCame back successive, sure and slow,\\nAnd fell upon mv listening ears.\\nIt was a weird and weary tale.\\nSo passing strange and dreamy too,\\nThat all its warmth would not avail\\nTo hide the mind s distempered view,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 281\\nWhich marked with madness all the trail,\\nAnd tinctured all the story through.\\nAnd this, the old man s rapt detail\\nAs told to me I tell to you.\\nThe hill-country hath many a worthy chief:\\nAmong the worthiest, my father wrought\\nTo give his one besetting sin relief;\\nAnd so, to elevate his soul, he sought\\nTo consecrate his son in strong belief\\nOf all our sacred oracles had taught\\nTo lift the aspiring soul from sin and grief\\nAnd I was made a priest\u00e2\u0080\u0094 alas! for nought.\\nAnd I was learn d in all our eastern lore\\nAlas for learning, when the soul is weak!\\nAnd I did serve in sacred things before\\nThe holy altar; and twas mine to speak\\nThe words of comfort at the temple door;\\nTo curb the proud and to console the weak;\\nTo mark the votive gifts the people bore,\\nAnd trim the lights which burned from week\\nto week.\\nAnd all a faithful priest should be, still that was I\\nNo less devout than constant was my prayer.\\nOr should a priest defend the faith and die,\\nMy life was ready for Gaudama there;\\nOr should a priest all carnal wants defy,\\nAnd life to all created beings spare,\\nAnd all which ministers to self deny,\\nThat priest was I twas mine to bow and bear.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "282 POETIC JEWELS\\nBy holy vows a priestly celibate,\\nI held my vows more sacred than my life\\nIn strong affection and emotion great,\\nI loved all living, as should love a wife\\nHer lord and little ones. O wondrous fate\\nThat love which hallows all things, should be rife\\nWith evil too I learned but all too late\\nThat love may wound the heart-strings like a\\nknife.\\nIn temporal as in all eternal things\\nThe priests of Buddha teach the people well\\nI taught them as I loved them and it brings\\nMy barren heart some slight relief to tell\\nHow faithfully I loved and taught. Nor kings.\\nNor princes, nor the opposing powers of hell,\\nCan spoil that solace and if love hath stings,\\nLove hath all power their poison to expel.\\nOne day there came a maiden to be taught\\nWith other maidens dutiful as she;\\nAnd yet I looked into her face and caught\\nAn instant recognition she with me\\nAnd I with her as if one look had wrought\\nCommingling love upon the heart s decree.\\nThat blessed love it was which soon had brought\\nMy soul into a sin without a plea!\\nHer name is never more upon my tongue;\\nAnd yet I would you saw her as I see\\nAnd hear her gentle voice, in words which hung\\nFor twoscore years of memory to me.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "POPPY^ THE FLOWER OF DREAMS.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 285\\nAnd she was beautiful, and I was young,\\nAnd both were human, and obeyed the plea\\nOf fatal love; and still together clung\\nTill dungeons, doom and death had set us free.\\nFate travels fast; we loved were wedded-\\nSundered by avenging priests denied\\nDefense imprisoned in a dungeon bedded\\nDeep within the temple s walls decried\\nAs impious and, O fate most dreaded!\\nMet no more my priestly vows defied,\\nMy name cast out as vile, and I beheaded!\\nYet all were nothing had I only died.\\nYou start you stare. Be still, and hear the whole.\\nThey say a demon racks my o er-wrought brain:\\nPerhaps tis so; but not perverts my soul.\\nThese hands are not my hands; these throes of pain\\nDistort no limbs of mine to balk control;\\nThis tongue is not my tongue that speaks again;\\nMy locks were glossy black no grizzled poll!\\nI loathe the flesh in which I still remain.\\nBut you are Christian, and my creed despise;\\nBut I have been and am whereof I tell.\\nI died as every recreant priest that dies\\nTo straight be born into a beast, or hell.\\nAnd e en the base hyena, whose sharp cries\\nAfflict the night with wailings fierce and fell,\\nReceived my soul, and kept me from the skies!\\nThe priests pronounced their pitiless curses well.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "286 POETIC JEWELS\\nFor years my soul contended with the beast,\\nAnd still the beast prevailed. My will defied\\nBy beastly appetites, had well nigh ceased\\nTo seek the higher life the beast denied.\\nOne fatal night, as dawn stole up the East,\\nThe fierce hyena, darkly prowling, spied\\nAnd spoiled a tomb to make his hellish feast:\\nThe sacred dead polluted was my bride!\\nMy soul went out, and hell had done its worst.\\nI knew myself a transmigrant once more;\\nBut sought no murder, knew for blood no thirst,\\nAnd gamboled playful on the grassy floor\\nOf flowery meads, by no fierce rage accurst.\\nBut still, a lamb is but a beast, though gore\\nBe not its nature: I was still immersed\\nWithin a beastly body as before.\\nWhoso with his own suffering flesh relieves\\nThe hunger of a famished tiger, wins\\nGaudama s high reward, and so receives\\nThe promise of Absorption, and begins\\nTo enjoy the rapture which his soul conceives;\\nI saw a tiger starving in the gins\\nOf tangled jungle ran as one who leaves\\nHis life with joy, and perished for my sins!\\nOnce more went out my sinful soul, that hour:\\nA beggar s body, waiting for the fi*\\nReceived the lingering spirit as its dower,\\nAnd I vas born a beggar on the j^yre.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 287\\nThe body rose alive, uith pulse, and power.\\nAnd consciousness; and hungry to respire\\nThe breath of life, and feel the grateful shower.\\nAnd be the slave of impulse and desire.\\nIn this vile body I have dwelt and dwell;\\nIn this old ruin I remain, still young.\\nIn these cold words in which I seek to tell\\nMy woful story, tis the beggar s tongue\\nThat utters, all unmoved by passion s spell.\\nShould I have poured my soul while you have hung\\nUpon the long recital, it were well\\nYour ears were adder s ere the voice had rung.\\nI starve my beggar s body on a crust:\\nI feast my prisoned soul with heavenly hope.\\nThe body is all animal, and must\\nDecline and perish; but the soul will grope\\nIts way from earth s gross darkness in the trust\\nOf life eternal. Let the carcase mope,\\nAnd shrink, and shrivel in its mortal dust;\\nThe soul expands forever in its heavenly scope.\\nThese glimmering orbs of sight that see, are blind:\\nYet I behold all things with spirit eyes.\\nI hearGaudama in the changing wind.\\nThe gentle breeze, the storm which rends the skies;\\nAnd see him when the lightning flashes find\\nAll mortal eyes struck blind. The eagle flies\\nInvisible to mortal sight; the immortal mind\\nWill still beyond the soaring eagle rise.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "288 POETIC JEWELS\\nThis loathsome flesh ere long will rot away;\\nBut I shall be absorbed into the eternal!\\nThe earth will claim its lump of kindred clay,\\nBut I shall soar into the vast supernal.\\nThe sin which marred the spirit s earthly stay,\\nWill fall away to be with the infernal.\\nEven now my soul departs! O blessed day,\\nWhich bears me to a land forever vernal!\\nEdzvard R. Roe.\\nGENESIS.\\nTHOU who didst beget the universe!\\nnspire with radiant truth my solemn theme.\\nExalt my tongue with praise while I rehearse\\nOld Earth s mutations in the wondrous scheme.\\nUpon mine eyes let light supernal beam,\\nWhile I behold the wonders of Thy hand;\\nAnd let me catch the streaming rays which gleam\\nLike beacon-lights o er all the varied land,\\nGuiding me on to Him who all these wonders planned.\\nMountains that lift their hoary heads on high;\\nOceans that dash their waves upon the shore;\\nForests whose shade shuts out the sun and sky;\\nTorrents whose downward driven waters pour;\\nThe lightning s living flash; the thunder s roar;\\nThe prairie plains that spread themselves abroad.\\nLike seas of verdure filled with flowery store\\nThese are the laureate anthems which applaud\\nThe King of Kings: these are the poetry of God!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 289\\nBut not alone in anthems deep and bold\\nThe earth does homage to its Maker s skill\\nThe gentle flowers in lowly hymns unfold\\nThe wonders of His all-creating will.\\nThe waving boughs that rustle on the hill\\nIn answering cadence to the wooing wind,\\nAnd all the lowlier, gentler hosts which fill\\nThe teeming earth, though deaf, and dumb, and blind,\\nBear witness to the wonders of the Eternal Mind.\\nLo! every thing that liveth joins the song.\\nTouch Thou my wondering tongue, O God, with praise.\\nWhile I the ever-echoing hymn prolong.\\nI would the anthem of Creation raise\\nThe world pre-adamite, the ancient days,\\nAnd all the rocky records of old Time,\\nFilled with revealing witness of Thy ways.\\nSo would I praise Thee in a theme sublime:\\nThe story of old Earth when she was in her prime.\\nI.\\nThou hast seen strange mutations, hoary Earth!\\nAnd man, the clay god, made of dust at first.\\nAnd unto dust returning aftertype\\nOf thee and thine estate has heard thy doom!\\nThy birth was of the all-begetting fire:\\nAnd mid the all-destroying fire at last\\nThou dying shalt return to elemental vapor.\\nLand and sea and sky shall pass away;\\nAnd like a wandering comet thou shalt cleave\\nThe trackless void as thou of old didst cleave.\\nEre sky, and sea, and land from chaos came,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "290 FOETl JE WELS\\nBegotten of the fire, when Fire was king,\\nAnd ere the radiating rays had left\\nRepulsive atoms to the rule of powers\\nAttractive, reigned o er all the world supreme.\\nIn the beginning thus At length the earth\\nWas left to other powers: to other laws\\nObedient, atoms unto atoms cleaved.\\nAnd seething vapors veiled a molten world.\\nThe glowing granite poured volcanic fire\\nIn rolling floods from pole to pole abroad;\\nAnd mountains rose on mountains, down again\\nTo sink into the fiery main below,\\nDissolving in the flood; their towering peaks\\nExploding in the murky air above.\\nLighting the outer darkness as they burst.\\nThe thunders, in amaze, deep silence kept,\\nAnd lightnings hid them in the outer air,\\nWhile thus volcanic tumult ruled the world\\nDarkness surrounded all the steamy air\\nShut out the upper light from earth below;\\nAnd while the molten granite hardened o er,\\nAs age by age went on, in torrents fell\\nPrecipitate, until a boundless flood\\nOf seething brine prevailed from pole to polCc\\nAt length the vapory air attenuate\\nLet in auroral light on all below.\\nThe rolling ocean s lurid waters gleamed.\\nReflecting back the twilight to the air;\\nThe air diffused it o er the sea again\\nAnd all above below around was day.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 291\\nThe chaotic age was ended\\nIts wonders passed away;\\nThe evening and the morning were\\nThe first day.\\nThen spread the circling firmament on high;\\nThen howled the surges of the lower deep;\\nThen waked the tempests in the restless air,\\nAnd Storm usurped dominion from the fire.\\nAnd still the fire resisted, loath to lose\\nIts long supremacy. The shoreless deep\\nOf rolling waters joined the rebel winds;\\nWhile elemental atoms infinite\\nCombined in firm revolt to stifle down\\nThe struggling fire. The rocky crystals shot\\nTheir geometric angles as they cooled,\\nGranitic and perverse, but rigid still.\\nBeneath the flood upheaved, vast mountains rose,\\nBattling with waves as mountainous as they.\\nBut still the sea prevailed the constant sea!\\nLess changing than all nature s changing works\\nThe sea prevailed. Its crushing waters rove\\nThe rock-ribbed mountains, scattered them afar,\\nGrinding the rigid granite in the foam\\nAnd casting down the deep gneissoidal mass\\nFive thousand fathoms thick.\\nFor ages thus:\\nNo continents, no islands, and no shores\\nAn ocean everywhere.\\nBut the age of waters ended\\nIts wonders passed away;\\nIts evening and its morning were\\nThe second day.\\n17", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "292 POETIC JEWELS\\nThus lifeless lay the old azoic world,\\nWaiting the hour of change. The moment came.\\nThe pregnant waters brought forth things of life,\\nBoth plants and animals; and creatures strange,\\nAnd marvelous to look upon, went forth\\nAmid the waves self-moving and alive!\\nThe young Lingula in his tongue-shaped shell,\\nThe quaint Obolus and Orbiculas,\\nThe Trilobite, with eyes multangular,\\nAnd hosts of living things, aquatic all.\\nCame forth and lived. The protozoic sea\\nWas moving with the mystery of life.\\nBut over all the teeming waves still rolled\\nThe murky air carbonic. Life was in the sea.\\nSwift through the waves placoidal monsters moved,\\nThe tyrants of the deep. No love was there.\\nThe strong, insatiate, still devoured the weak;\\nThe weak devoured the weaker; all was strife.\\nThe shark is not the monster of to-day:\\nHis ancestry, as bloody and as foul,\\nSpread havoc in the old Silurian sea.\\nThe vengeful Gar there had his prototype;\\nAnd there if deeds of rapine gild a line\\nOf long descent, and spread a halo round\\nConsanguine names in after ages rose\\nThe first illustrious lines! Pterichthys and\\nCoccostius are names as noble then\\nAs Macedonian Alexander s since.\\nBut the reign of fishes ended\\nIts wonders passed away;\\nThe evening and the morning were\\nThe third day.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 293\\nAnother day-\\nWas dawning on the crude and nascent world.\\nDevonian tumult raged o er all the sea:\\nThe rocky bottom heaved in fiery throes,\\nDisrupted by the pent-up flames beneath.\\nThen mountains rose, and shores set boundaries\\nAbout the boundless sea, to sink no more.\\nAnd in the upper deep, darkness and light\\nDivided into night and day; and sun.\\nAnd moon, and stars shone out alternate on\\nThe rolling world.\\nThou flaming minister\\nOf God! mirror of past and future Thou\\nWho broodest now on all this world of life,\\nAs Thou of old didst brood on barren rocks\\nAnd oceans, leafless, pulseless, dumb and dead\\nThou shinest now as then; we look on Thee\\nWho didst look on a past eternity.\\nYe retinue of Stars, and thou, bright Moon,\\nTheir queen, first ofispring of the quickening earth,\\nYe bind us to the past, of which ye are,\\nAs of the present, part. As now ye shine\\nSo shone ye on the primal lands which rose\\nFirst fixed above the waters on the mount\\nOf Sinai, sacred rendered since to God\\nUpon the granite peaks uprising from\\nThe old Devonian sea, where now extend\\nThe clustered isles of Britain; and where er\\nThe syenitic monuments of time\\nErected by the Eternal Architect,\\nRise up amid the old Silurian rocks.\\nDistinct and unconformable. How sink", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "294 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe monuments of men since sculptur d from\\nThese same obdurate granites! Where is now\\nOld Memnon s morning music? Where the shaft\\nOf Roman Pompey? Where the obehsk\\nOf Egypt s Cleopatra, and the host\\nOf rock mementos indurate as they?\\nSpoiled by the hand of time and ruder man.\\nAnd yet the fire-erected monuments remain\\nStill sacred to the silent power of God.\\nAnd so the fossil records of the past,\\nAs written by His hand. Go learn their lore,\\nBehold their marvels, wonder and adore.\\nAs sunlight on the mountains now, so shone\\nThe golden beams at dawn of that far day.\\nFrom out the deep the dripping lands uprose,\\nTheir tepid waters gleaming in the day,\\nReflecting honors to the lord of light.\\nAnd myriad plants of forms uncouth and strange..\\nSprung up o er all the dank and marshy plains,\\nAnd throve upon the hot carbonic air.\\nThey throve, and grew, and died: and others sprung\\nIn countless hosts from out the hot-bed heaps,\\nTo thrive and fall in turn; till all the air\\nWas strained and purified above; and all\\nThe coaly treasure stored for coming time,\\nWas fossilized below.\\nThe age of plants was ended\\nIts wonders passed away:\\nIts evening and its morning were\\nThe fourth day.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 295\\nBroad over all the basking continents,\\nAnd all the nameless isles, the brooding sun\\nBrought forth strange vegetation. Giant ferns,\\nAnd mosses monstrous, conifers and palms,\\nAnd leafy hosts of wondrous forms uncouth,\\nSprang up o er all the moist and heated plains.\\nAlong the breeze the venomed scorpion played.\\nAnd first of living things inspired the air.\\nAnon, amid the reeking fens went up.\\nIn sounds lugubrious, the first acclaim\\nOf jubilant existence; life was in the air!\\nThe Labyrinthodon croaked out his joy\\nIn notes batrachian most hideous he\\nOf all the denizens of that far day.\\nWhile on the plastic borders of the pools,\\nThe Brontozoum, the Leviathan,\\nThe Ornithopus, and a host of birds\\nAs strange as they, impressed their tracks, in lines\\nLike epitaphs, upon the future rocks.\\nThen came the lizard fishes, ravenous,\\nHuge and unsightly, neither flesh nor fish.\\nO er all the land and sea they reigned supreme;\\nWhile in the lazy air, with skinny wings,\\nThe Pterodactyl flew, at home alike\\nIn water, land or air, but hideous still.\\nThe age wears on apace. Vast rivers start,\\nAnd wind themselves amid the vernal plains.\\nTheir ripples echo with the startled scream\\nOf creeping things gigantic. Lakes and pools,\\nWholesome and unsaline, distilled from out\\nThe briny ocean, by the glowing sun.\\nDot the umbrageous landscape round the world.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "296 POETIC JEWELS\\nEarth, air and water; hills and boundless plains,\\nA nd forests intricate; the sea, the lake,\\nThe bog, the wood, the world was full of life!\\nAnd the age of reptiles ended\\nIts wonders passed away.\\nIts evening and its morning were\\nThe fifth day.\\nAnother age came on: the world was ripe!\\nThe yellow sunshine shone on gentle slopes.\\nAnd wooded hills, and verdure-covered plains;\\nAnd fruits and flowers their hues of beauty threw\\nUpon the gentle waters; and the song\\nOf birds went out upon the balmy air.\\nNew forests sprung in keeping with the age,\\nNew races roamed the earth, flew in the air,\\nOr sported in the waters prototypes\\nOf these, coeval with the mastertype\\nTo which all other types were tending, Man!\\nAnimals mammalian, nurturing\\nTheir young from living fount lactiferous.\\nRoamed o er the ripening world, and filled their times\\nAlive without progenitors, or dead\\nWithout descendants, as the eternal plan\\nDemanded miracles alike, at once\\nOf life and death. So died to live no more\\nThe giant Mastodon, the Megathere,\\nThe Mylodon, and hosts of giant forms\\nAs huge as they, filling the eternal rocks\\nWith strange, ossific records of their lives.\\nThe early Eocene, the Miocene,\\nThe Pliocene, successive came and went,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 297\\nMarking the fullness of the times. The Earth\\nPut on her rich adornments for her rest,\\nDecked in her beauty for a coming lord.\\nThe Alps, the Andes, and the Apennines,\\nAnd mountain chains as nameless then as these,\\nLifted their peaks still nearer to the sky,\\nTo catch the crystal rain-drops as they passed.\\nThe streamlets leaped along the grassy slopes;\\nNomadic rivers wandered through the vales,\\nSeeking the distant sea, stretching afar\\nO er isles or continents in gentle sweep.\\nOr eddying rapids; or in glorious plunge\\nLeaped loud Niagaras upon the plains.\\nThe lily bathed her snowy petals in\\nThe early dew beside the ruddy rose.\\nBeneath the golden sunshine luscious fruits\\nTheir cooling juices ripened; while the field\\nUnfenced and free, waved in the gentle breeze\\nTheir cereal grains nutritious, waiting yet\\nA little while the coming reaper s hook.\\nUpon the thousand hills and grassy plains\\nThe lowing cattle grazed content clean beasts,\\nThat chew the cud, and part the hoof, and feed\\nUpon the grassy store, abhorring blood.\\nThe world was waiting for its human lord.\\nHe came\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the obedient clay rose up alive.\\nAnd Man walked upright in the image of\\nHis God, a living soul.\\nThe reign of Mammals ended\\nMan rose unto his sway.\\nThe evening and the morning were\\nThe sixth day.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "298 POETIC JEWELS\\nGod of the rosy light-\\nLord of the earth and sea\\nSpirit who maked st all things bright\\nWe utter our praise to Thee.\\nMorning and evening come\\nDarkness and light obey\\nAnd all aloud their praise proclaim\\nAt the rise of the primal day.\\nGod of the boundless sea\\nLord of its finny brood\\nWe join its hosts in praise of Thee,\\nSpirit of all things good.\\nMaker of beast and bird\\nCreator of all that live\\nThou who didst speak the creative word,\\nAnd life to all things give!\\nGod of the rosy light!\\nLord of the earth and sea!\\nSpirit of all things bright!\\nEternal praise to Thee!\\nEdward R. Roe.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\n299\\nPOETRY OF ANCIENT BURIAL.\\nHEY buried the young in the olden time,\\nIn the morning twilight gray,\\nAnd a beautiful thought\\nAnd a true, was it not?\\nThat thought of the olden day.\\nThey buried the young while the darkness hung\\nLike a shroud on the earth below:\\nBut a gladdening sight\\nWas the orient light.\\nAs they gazed on its crimson glow.\\nThe earth it was dark, but up-springing the lark,\\nHer matins was singing on high;\\nIt seemed as the birth\\nOf joy vanish d from earth.\\nShe taught them to seek in the sky.\\nAnd was there no reason for choosing this season\\nThe young in earth s bosom to lay.\\nSave the fanciful one,\\nThat the bride of the sun,\\nAurora, had stolen them away?\\nYes! that thought it was given by a pitying Heaven,\\nA foretaste of bliss to the blind,\\nA type and a warning\\nOf that glorious morning\\nThat shall dawn upon all mankind.\\nJo/ni Lloyd.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "300 POETIC JEWELS\\nHOW GOOD ARE THE POOR.\\nTranslated froDi the French by Bishop Alexander.\\nIS night within the close, stout cabin door,\\nThe room is wrapped in shade, save where there\\nfall\\nSome twilight rays that creep along the floor,\\nAnd show the fisher s nets upon the wall.\\nIn the dim corner, from the oaken chest,\\nA few white dishes glimmer; through the shade\\nStands a tall bed with dusky curtains dressed.\\nAnd a rough mattress at its side is laid.\\nFive children on the long, low mattress lie\\nA nest of little souls, it heaves with dreams;\\nIn the high chimney the last embers die,\\nAnd redden the dark gloom with crimson gleams.\\nThe mother kneels and thinks, and, pale with fear.\\nShe prays alone, hearing the billows shout:\\nWhile to wild winds, to rocks, to midnight drear,\\nThe ominous old ocean sobs without.\\nPoor wives of fishers! Ah! tis sad to say.\\nOur sons, our husbands, all that we love best,\\nOur hearts, our souls, are on those waves away,\\nThose ravening wolves that know not ruth nor rest.\\nThink how they sport with those beloved forms!\\nAnd how the clarion-blowing wind unties\\nAbove their heads the tresses of the storms;\\nPerchance even now the child, the husband, dies.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 301\\nFor we can never tell where they may be,\\nWho, to make head against the tide and gale,\\nBetween them and the starless, soulless sea.\\nHave but one bit of plank, with one poor sail.\\nTerrible fear! We seek the pebbly shore,\\nCry to the rising billows, Bring them home.\\nAlas! what answer gives their troubled roar\\nTo the dark thought that haunts us as we roam.\\nJanet is sad; her husband is alone,\\nWrapped in the black shroud of this bitter night;\\nHis children are so little, there is none\\nTo give him aid. Were they but old they might.\\nAh, mother! when they too are on the main.\\nHow wilt thou weep: Would they were young again.\\nShe takes his lantern tis his hour at last:\\nShe will go forth, and see if the day breaks,\\nAnd if his signal fire be at the mast;\\nAh, no -not yet no breath of morning wakes.\\nNo line of light o er the dark water lies;\\nIt rains, it rains, how black is rain at morn:\\nThe day comes trembling, and the young dawn cries\\nCries like a baby fearing to be born.\\nSudden her humane eyes that peer and watch\\nThrough the deep shade, a moldering dwelling find.\\nNo light within the thin door shakes the thatch\\nO er the green walls is twisted of the wind,\\nYellow and dirty as a swollen rill.\\nAh, me, she saith, here does that widow dwell;\\nFew days ago my good man left her ill:\\nI will go in and see if all be well.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "302 POETIC JEWELS\\nShe strikes the door, she listens, none replies,\\nAnd Janet shudders. Husbandless, alone,\\nAnd with two children they have scant supplies.\\nGood neighbor! She sleeps heavy as a stone.\\nShe calls again, she knocks, tis silence still;\\nNo sound, no answer suddenly the door,\\nAs if the senseless creature felt some thrill\\nOf pity, turned and open lay before.\\nShe entered, and her lantern lighted all\\nThe house so still, but for the rude waves din,\\nThrough the thin roof the plashing raindrops fall,\\nBut something terrible is couched within.\\nSo, for the kisses that delight the flesh.\\nFor mother s worship, and for children s bloom.\\nFor song, for smile, for love so fair and fresh.\\nFor laugh, for dance, there is one goal the tomb.\\nAnd why does Janet pass so fast away?\\nWhat hath she done within that house of dread?\\nWhat folded she beneath her mantle gray?\\nAnd hurries home, and hides it in her bed:\\nWith half-averted face, and nervous tread,\\nWhat hath she stolen from the awful dead?\\nThe dawn was whitening over the sea s verge.\\nAs she sat pensive, touching broken chords\\nOf half-remorseful thought, while the hoarse surge\\nHowled a sad concert to her broken words.\\nAh, my poor husband! w^e had five before,\\nAlready so much care, so much to find.\\nFor he must work for all. I give him more.\\nWhat was that noise? His step! Ah, no! the wind.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 303\\nThat I should be afraid of him I love!\\nI have done ill. If he should beat me now,\\nI would not blame him. Did not the door move?\\nNot yet, poor man. She sits with careful brow\\nWrapped in her inward grief; nor hears the roar\\nOf winds and waves that dash against his prow.\\nNor the black cormorant shrieking on the shore.\\nSudden the door flies open wide, and lets\\nNoisily in the dawn-light scarcely clear,\\nAnd the good fisher, dragging his damp nets,\\nStands on the threshold, with a joyous cheer.\\nTis thou! she cries, and, eager as a lover,\\nLeaps up and holds her husband to her breast;\\nHer greeting kisses all his vesture cover;\\nTis I, good wife! and his broad face expressed\\nHow gay his heart that Janet s love made light.\\nWhat weather was it? Hard. Your fishing?\\nBad.\\nThe sea was like a nest of thieves to-night;\\nBut I embrace thee, and my heart is glad.\\nThere was a devil in the wind that blew;\\nI tore my net, caught nothing, broke my line.\\nAnd once I thought the bark was broken, too;\\nWhat did you all the night long, Janet mine?\\nShe, trembling in the darkness, answered, I!\\nOh, naught I sew d, I watch d, I was afraid.\\nThe waves were loud as thunders from the sky;\\nBut it is over. Shyly then she said", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "304 POETIC JEWELS\\nOur neighbor died last night; it must have been\\nWhen 3-ou were gone. She left two little ones,\\nSo small, so frail William and Madeline;\\nThe one just lisps, the other scarcely runs.\\nThe man looked grave, and in the corner cast\\nHis old fur bonnet, wet with rain and sea,\\nMuttered awhile, and scratched his head at last:\\nWe have five children, this makes seven, said he.\\nAlready in bad weather we must sleep\\nSometimes without our supper. Now! ah, well\\nTis not my fault. These accidents are deep;\\nIt was the good God s will. I cannot tell.\\nWhy did he take the mother from those scraps,\\nNo bigger than my fist. Tis hard to read;\\nA learned man might understand, perhaps\\nSo little, they can neither work nor need.\\nGo fetch them, wife; they will be frightened sore,\\nIf with the dead alone they waken thus.\\nThat was the mother knocking at our door.\\nAnd we must take the children home to us.\\nBrother and sister shall they be to ours.\\nAnd they will learn to climb my knee at even;\\nWhen He shall see these strangers in our bowers.\\nMore fish, more food, will give the God of Heaven.\\nI will work harder; I will drink no wine\\nGo fetch them. Wherefore dost thou linger, dear?\\nNot thus were wont to move those feet of thine.\\nShe drew the curtain, saying, They are here!\\nVictor Hiizo.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0306.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "F\\n1\\nK\\nm\\nu,.i^J|^H\\n1\\nH\\n1\\nK\\nIS\\nVf. T^ ^B\\ns?^\\n1\\n1\\nt JBte\\n1\\n1\\n1\\nH^Hj^B I\\nfi^^\\n\\\\V. VON GOETHE, THE Great German Poet (1 739-1 S32).\\nHis books are full of scintillating gems.l", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0307.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0308.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 30i\\nTRUTH AND FALSEHOOD.\\nA TALE.\\nNCE on a time, in sunshine weather,\\nFalsehood and Truth walk d out together\\nThe neighboring woods and lawns to view,\\nAs opposites will sometimes do.\\nThro many a blooming mead they pass d,\\nAnd at a brook arriv d at last.\\nThe purling stream, the margin green,\\nWith flowers bedeck d, a vernal scene,\\nInvited each itinerant maid\\nTo rest awhile beneath the shade.\\nUnder a spreading beech they sat,\\nAnd pass d the time with female chat;\\nWhilst each her character maintain d,\\nOne spoke her thoughts, the other feign d.\\nAt length, quoth Falsehood, Sister Truth\\n(For so she called her from her youth),\\nWhat if, to shun yon sultry beam,\\nWe bathe in this delightful stream;\\nThe bottom smooth, the water clear,\\nAnd there s no prying shepherd near?\\nWith all my heart, the nymph replied.\\nAnd threw her snowy robes aside,\\nStript herself naked to the skin.\\nAnd with a spring leapt headlong in.\\nFalsehood more leisurely undrest.\\nAnd, laying by her tawdry vest,\\nTrick d herself out in Truth s array.\\nAnd cross the meadows tript away.\\nFrom this curst hour the fraudful dame", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0309.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "308 POETIC JEWELS\\nOf sacred Truth usurps the name,\\nAnd, with a vile, perfidious mind.\\nRoams far and near, to cheat mankind;\\nFalse sighs suborns, and artful tears,\\nAnd starts with vain, pretended fears;\\nIn visits still appears most wise.\\nAnd rolls at church her saint-like eyes;\\nTalks very much, plays vile tricks,\\nWhile rising stock* her conscience pricks;\\nWhen being, poor thing, extremely gravel d.\\nThe secrets op d, and all unravel d.\\nBut on she will, and secrets tell\\nOf John and Joan, and Ned and Nell.\\nMatthew Prior.\\nTHE DONCASTER ST. LEGER.\\n[This poem is intended to illustrate the spirit of Yorkshire racing, now\\nunhappily, or happily, as the case maybe, on the decline. The perfect acquaint-\\nance of every peasant on the ground with the pedigrees, performances, and the\\ncharacters of the horses engaged^ his genuine interest in the result and the\\nmixture of hatred and contempt which he used to feel for the Newmarket\\nfavorites, who came down to carry off the great national prize, must be well\\nknown to all who have crossed the Trent in August or September altogether it\\nconstituted a peculiar modification of English feeling, which I thought deserved\\nto be recorded, and in default of a more accomplished Pindar, I have here\\nendeavored to do so. l^ie Return of the Guards, and other Poems, 1841.]\\nHE sun is bright, the sky is clear,\\nAbove the crowded course,\\ns the mighty moment draweth near\\nWhose issue shows the horse.\\nThe fairest of the land are here\\nTo watch the struggle of the year,\\nThe dew of beauty and of mirth\\nSouth Sea, 1720.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0310.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 309\\nLies on the living flowers of earth,\\nAnd blushing cheek and kindling eye\\nLend brightness to the sun on high;\\nAnd every corner of the north\\nHas poured her hardy yeomen forth;\\nThe dweller by the glistening rills\\nThat sound among the Craven hills;\\nThe stalwart husbandman who holds\\nHis plow upon the eastern wolds;\\nThe sallow, shriveled artisan,\\nTwisted below the height of man,\\nWhose limbs and life have moldered down\\nWithin some foul and clouded town,\\nAre gathered thickly on the lea.\\nOr streaming from far homes to see\\nIf Yorkshire keeps her old renown;\\nOr if the dreaded Derby horse\\nCan sweep in triumph o er her course;\\nWith the same look in every face,\\nThe same keen feeling they retrace\\nThe legends of each ancient race;\\nRecalling Reveler in his pride.\\nOr Blacklock of the mighty stride,\\nOr listening to some gray-haired sage\\nFull of the dignity of age;\\nHow neither pace nor length could tire,\\nOld Muley Moloch s speed and fire;\\nHow Hambletonian beat of yore\\nSuch racers as are seen no more;\\nHow Yorkshire coursers, swift as they,\\nWould leave this southern horse half way,\\nBut that the creatures of to-day\\n18", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0311.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "310 POETIC JEWELS\\nAre cast in quite a different mold\\nFrom what he recollects of old.\\nClear peals the bell: at that known sound,\\nLike bees, the people cluster round;\\nOn either side upstarting then.\\nOne close dark wall of breathing men,\\nFar down as eye can stretch, are seen\\nAlong yon vivid strip of green.\\nWhere keenly watched by countless eyes,\\nMid hopes, and fears, and prophecies,\\nNow fast, now slow, nowhere, now there,\\nWith hearts of fire, and limbs of air.\\nSnorting and prancing sidling by\\nWith arching necks, and glancing eye,\\nIn every shape of strength and grace.\\nThe horses gather for the race;\\nSoothed for a moment all, they stand\\nTogether, like a sculptured band,\\nEach quivering eyelid flutters thick,\\nEach face is flushed, each heart beats quick;\\nAnd all around dim murmurs pass.\\nLike low winds moaning on the grass.\\nAgain the thrilling signal sound\\nAnd off at once, with one long bound,\\nInto the speed of thought they leap.\\nLike a proud ship rushing to the deep.\\nA start! a start! they re off, by heaven.\\nLike a single horse, though twenty-seven.\\nAnd mid the flash of silks we scan\\nA Yorkshire jacket in the van;\\nHurrah! for the bold bay mare!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0312.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 31).\\nI ll pawn my soul her place is there\\nUnheaded to the last\\nFor a thousand pounds, she wins unpast\\nHurrah for the matchless mare!\\nA hundred yards have glided by\\nAnd they settle to the race,\\nMore keen becomes each straining eye,\\nMore terrible the pace.\\nUnbroken yet o er the gravel road\\nLike maddening waves the troop has flowed,\\nBut the speed begins to tell;\\nAnd Yorkshire sees with eye of fear,\\nThe Southron stealing from the rear.\\nAy! mark his action well!\\nBehind he is, but what repose!\\nHow steadily and clean he goes!\\nWhat latent speed his limbs disclose*\\nWhat power in every stride he shows!\\nThey see, they feel, from man to man\\nThe shivering thrill of terror ran,\\nAnd every soul instinctive knew\\nIt lay between the mighty two.\\nThe world without, the sky above.\\nHave glided from their straining eyes\\nFuture and past, and hate and love,\\nThe life that wanes, the friend that dies.\\nE en grim remorse who sits behind\\nEach thought and motion of the mind,\\nThese now are nothing, Time and Space\\nLie in the rushing of the race;\\nAs with keen shouts of hope and fear\\nThey watch it in its wild career.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0313.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "312 POETIC JEWELS\\nStill far ahead of the glittering throng,\\nDashes the eager mare along,\\nAnd round the turn and past the hill,\\nSlides up the Derby winner still.\\nThe twenty-five that lay between\\nAre blotted from the stirring scena.\\nAnd the wild cries which rang so loud,\\nSink by degrees throughout the crowd,\\nTo one deep humming, like the tremulous roar\\nOf seas remote along a northern shore.\\nIn distance dwindling to the eye\\nRight opposite the stand they lie,\\nAnd scarcely seem to stir;\\nThough an Arab sheik his wives would give\\nFor a single steed, that with them could live\\nThree hundred yards, without the spur,\\nBut though so indistinct and small,\\nYou hardly see them move at all,\\nThere are not wanting signs which show\\nDefeat is busy as they go.\\nLook how the mass, which rushed away\\nAs full of spirit as the day,\\nSo close compacted for a while,\\nIs lengthening into single file.\\nNow inch by inch it breaks, and wide\\nAnd spreading gaps the line divide.\\nAs forward still, and far away\\nUndulates on the tired array,\\nGay colors, and momently less bright,\\nFade flickering on the gazer s sight,\\nTill keenest eyes can scarcely trace\\nThe homeward ripple of the race.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0314.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "POETIC JE WELS 3] 3\\nCare sits on every lip and brow.\\nWho leads? who fails? how goes it now?\\nOne shooting spark of life intense,\\nOne throb of refluent suspense,\\nAnd a far rainbow-colored light\\nTrembles again upon the sight.\\nLook to your turn! Already there\\nGleams the pink and black of the fiery mare,\\nAnd through that, which but now was a gap,\\nCreeps on the terrible white cap.\\nHalf-strangled in each throat, a shout\\nWrung from their fevered spirits out,\\nBooms through the crowd like muffled drums,\\nHis jockey moves on him. He comes!\\nThen momently like gusts, you heard,\\nHe s sixth he s fifth he s fourth he s third;\\nAnd on, like some glancing meteor-flame,\\nThe stride of the Derby v/inner came.\\nAnd during all that anxious time\\n(Sneer as it suits you at my rhyme).\\nThe earnestness became sublime;\\nCommon and trite as is the scene,\\nAt once so thrilling, and so mean.\\nTo him who tries his heart to scan.\\nAnd feels the brotherhood of man,\\nThat needs must be a mighty minute.\\nWhen a crowd has but one soul within it.\\nAs some bright ship with every sail\\nObedient to the urging gale.\\nDarts by vext hulls, which side by side,\\nDismasted on the raging tide,\\nAre struggling onward, wild and wide.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0315.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "iJM POETIC JEWELS\\nThus, through the reeling field he flew,\\nAnd near, and yet more near he drew;\\nEach leap seems longer than the last,\\nNow now the second horse is past,\\nAnd the keen rider of the mare,\\nWith haggard look of feverish care,\\nHangs forward on the speechless air,\\nBy steady stillness nursing in\\nThe remnant of her speed to win.\\nOne other bound one more tis done;\\nRight up to her the horse has run.\\nAnd head to head, and stride for stride,\\nNewmarket s hope and Yorkshire s pride.\\nLike horses harnessed side by side.\\nAnd struggling to the goal.\\nRide! gallant son of Ebor, ride!\\nFor the dear honor of the north.\\nStretch every bursting sinew forth,\\nPut out thy inmost soul\\nAnd with knee, and thigh, and tightened rein,\\nLift in the mare by might and main;\\nThe feelings of the people reach,\\nWhat lies beyond the springs of speech.\\nSo that there rises up no sound\\nFrom the wide human life around;\\nOne spirit flashes from each eye.\\nOne impulse lifts each heart throat-high,\\nOne short and panting silence broods\\nO er the wildly-working multitudes.\\nAs on the struggling coursers press,\\nSo deep the eager silentness.\\nThat underneath their feet the turf", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0316.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 315\\nSeems shaken, like the eddying surf\\nWhen it tastes the rushing gale,\\nAnd the singing fall of the heavy whips,\\nWhich tear the flesh away in strips,\\nAs the tempest tears the sail,\\nOn the throbbing heart and quivering ear,\\nStrike vividly distinct, and near.\\nBut mark what an arrowy rush is there,\\nHe s beat! he s beat! by heaven! the mare,\\nJust on the post, her spirit rare.\\nWhen Hope herself might well despair.\\nSir Francis Hastings Doyle.\\nMARCUS ANTONIUS.\\nJ^^^^^IS vain, Fonteus!^ As the half-tamed steed,\\nv^j^^^ Scenting the desert, lashes madly out,\\nAnd strains and storms and struggles to be freed,\\nShaking his rattling harness all about\\nSo, fiercer for restraint, here in my breast\\nHot passion rages, firing every thought;\\nFor what is honor, prudence, interest\\nTo the wild strength of love? O best of life,\\nMy joy, bliss, triumph, glory, my soul s wife.\\nMy Cleopatra! I desire thee so\\nThat all restraint to the wild winds I throw.\\nCome what come will, come life, come death, to mc\\nTis equal, if again I look on thee.\\nAway, Fontcus! tell her that I rage\\nWith madness for her. Nothing can assuage\\nTlic strong desire, the torment, the fierce stiess", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0317.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "316 POETIC JEWELS\\nThat whirls my thoughts round, and inflames my braia^\\nBut her great ardent eyes dark eyes, that draw\\nMy being to them with a subtle law\\nAnd an almost divine imperiousness.\\nTell her I do not live until I feel\\nThe thrill of her wild touch, that through each vein\\nElectric shoots its lightning; and again\\nHear those low tones of hers, although they steal\\nAs by some serpent-charm my will away;\\nAnd wreck my manhood.\\nOh Octavia,\\nThis lying galls me, and tis worse than vain!\\nLife is too short to waste in love s pretense,\\nIn the bleak shadow of indifference.\\nAnd you what are you but a galling chain!\\nI hate you that I cannot hate you more.\\nEven hate for you is only cold and dull\\nCold as your heart, and dull as is your sense.\\nWere you but savage, wicked to the core,\\nLess pious, prudish, prudent, made to rule,\\nI misfhthave loved or hated more; but now\\nNothing on earth seems half so deadly chill\\nAs your insipid smile and placid brow,\\nYour glacial goodness and proprieties.\\nTell my dear serpent I must see her fill\\nMy eyes with the glad light of her great eyes,\\nThough death, dishonor, anything you will.\\nStand in the way! Ah, by my soul! disgrace\\nIs better in the sun of Egypt s face\\nThan pomp or power in this detested place.\\nOh! for the wine my queen alone can pour\\nFrom her rich nature! Let me starve no more\\nOn this weak, tepid drink that never warms", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0318.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 317\\nMy life-blood but away with shams and forms]\\nAway with Rome! One hour in Egypt s eyes\\nIs worth a score of Roman centuries.\\nAway, Fonteus! Tell her, till I see\\nThose eyes I do not live that Rome to me\\nIs hateful. Tell her Oh! I know not what\\nThat every thought and feeling, space and spot,\\nIs like an ugly dream, where she is not\\nAll persons plagues; all doings wearisome;\\nAll talking empty; all these feasts and friends\\nThese slaves and courtiers, princes, palaces\\nThis Caesar, with his selfish aims and ends.\\nHis oily ways and sleek hypocrisies\\nThis Lepidus; and, worse than all by far,\\nThis mawkish, pious, prude Octavia\\nAre bonds and fetters, tedious as disease,\\nNot worth the parings of her finger-nails.\\nOh for the breath of Egypt! the soft nights\\nOf the voluptuous East the dear delights\\nWe tasted there the lotus-perfumed gales\\nThat dream along the low shores of the Nile,\\nAnd softly flutter in the languid sails!\\nOh, for the queen of all for the rich smile\\nThat glows like autumn over her dark face\\nFor her large nature her enchanting grace\\nHer arms, that are away so many a mile!\\nAway, Fonteus; lose no hour ^make sail\\nWeigh anchor on the instant woo a gale\\nTo blow you to her. Tell her I shall be\\nClose on your very heels across the sea.\\nPraying that Neptune send me storms as strong\\nAs Passion is, to sweep me swift along,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0319.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "318 POETIC JEWELS\\nTill the white spray sing whistling round my prow,\\nAnd the waves gurgle neath the keel s sharp plow.\\nFly, fly, Fonteus! When I think of her\\nMy soul within my body is astir!\\nMy wild blood pulses, and my hot cheeks glow!\\nLove with its madness overwhelms me so\\nThat I Oh 1 go, I say! Fonteus, go!\\nW. W. Story.\\nTHE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.\\nTi-anslatcd from the Frcnc/i by Professor Henry Highton.\\n^ftOME, child of prayer, the busy day is done,\\nA golden star gleams through the dusk of night;\\nThe hills are trembling in the rising mist.\\nThe rumbling wain looms dim upon the sight;\\nAll things wend home to rest; the roadside trees\\nShake off their dust, stirred by the evening breeze.\\nThe sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,\\nAs twilight open flings the doors of night;\\nThe fringe of carmine narrows in the west\\nThe rippling waves are tipped with silver light;\\nThe bush, the path all blend in one dull gray;\\nThe doubtful traveler gropes his anxious way.\\nOh, day! with toil, with wrong, with hatred rife;\\nOh, blessed night! with sober calmness sweet;\\nThe sad winds moaning through the ruined tower.\\nThe age-worn hind, the sheep s sad broken bleat\\nAll nature groans opprest with toil and care,\\nAnd wearied craves for rest, and love, and prayer.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0320.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "RALPH WALDO EMERSON, THii Philosopher (1S03-S2).\\n[His poetry and prose are America s pride.]", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0321.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0322.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\n321\\nAt eve the babes with angels converse hold,\\nWhile we to our strange pleasures wend our way,\\nEach with its little face upraised to Heaven,\\nWith folded hands, barefoot kneels down to pray.\\nAt self-same hour with self-same words they call\\nOn God, the common Father of them all.\\nAnd then they sleep; and golden dreams anon.\\nBorn as the busy day s last murmurs die,\\nIn swarms tumultuous flitting through the gloom,\\nTheir breathing lips and golden locks descry,\\nAnd as the bees o er bright flowers joyous roam,\\nAround their curtained cradles clustering come.\\nOh, prayer of childhood! simple, innocent;\\nOh, infant slumbers! peaceful, pure, and light;\\nOh, happy worship! ever gay with smiles,\\nMeet prelude to the harmonies of night;\\nAs birds beneath the wing enfold their head,\\nNestle i in prayer the infant seeks its bed.\\nVictor Hu(co.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0323.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "322 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE YOUNG AVENGER.\\nHE warrior s strength is bowed by age, the war-\\nrior s step is slow,\\n.nd the beard upon his breast is white as is the\\nI* winter s snow;\\nYet his eye shines bright, as if not yet its last of fame\\nwere won;\\nSix sons stand ready in their arms to do as he has done.\\nNow take your way, ye Laras bold, and to the battle\\nride;\\nFor loud upon the Christian air are vaunts of Moorish\\npride:\\nYour six white steeds stand at the gate; go forth and let\\nme see\\nWho will return the first and bring a Moslem head to me.\\nForth they went, six gallant knights, all mail d from head\\nto heel;\\nIs it not death to him who first their fiery strength shall\\nfeel?\\nThey spurr d their steeds, and on they dash d, as sweeps\\nthe midnight wind;\\nWhile their youngest brother stood and wept that he must\\nstay behind.\\nCome here, my child! the father said, and wherefore\\ndost thou weep?\\nThe time will come when from the fray nought shall my\\nfavorite keep;\\nWhen thou wilt be the first of all amid the hostile spears.\\nThe boy shook back his raven hair, and laugh d amid his\\ntears.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0324.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 323\\nThe sun went down, but lance nor shield reflected back his\\nlight\\nThe moon rose up, but not a sound broke on the rest of\\nnight.\\nThe old man watched impatiently, till with morn o er the\\nplain\\nThere came a sound of horses feet, there came a martial\\ntrain.\\nBut gleamed not back the sunbeam glad from plume or\\nhelm of gold.\\nNo, it shone upon the crimson vest, the turban s emerald\\nfold.\\nA Moorish herald; six pale heads hung at his saddle-bow.\\nGashed, changed, yet well the Father knew the lines of\\neach fair brow.\\nOh did they fall by numbers, or did they basely\\nyield?\\nNot so; beneath the same bold hand thy children press d\\nthe field,\\nThey died as Nourreddin would wish all foes of his should\\ndie;\\nSmall honor does the conquest boast when won from those\\nwho fly.\\nAnd thus he saith, This was the sword that swept down\\nthe brave band.\\nFind thou one who can draw it forth in all thy Christian\\nland.\\nIf from a youth such sorrowing and scathe thou hast\\nendured,\\nDread thou to wait for vengeance till his summers are\\nmatured.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0325.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "324 POETIC JEWELS\\nThe aged chieftain took the sword, in vain his hand\\nessay d\\nTo draw it from its scabbard forth, or poise the heavy\\nblade;\\nHe flung it to his only child, now sadly standing by,\\nNow weep, for here is cause for tears; alas! mine own\\nare dry.\\nThen answer d proud the noble boy, My tears last\\nmorning came\\nFor weakness of my own right hand; to shed them now\\nwere shame;\\nI will not do my brothers* names such deep and deadly\\nwrong;\\nBrave were they unto death, success can but to God\\nbelong.\\nAnd years have fled, that boy has sprung unto a goodly\\nknight,\\nAnd fleet of foot and stout of arm in his old father s sight;\\nYet breathed he never wish to take in glorious strife his\\npart.\\nAnd shame and grief his backwardness was to that father s\\nheart.\\nCold, silent, stern, he let time pass, until he rush d one\\nday.\\nWhere mourning o er his waste of youth the weary chief-\\ntain lay;\\nUnarm d he was, but in his grasp he bore a heavy brand,\\nMy father, I can wield his sword; now, knighthood at\\nthine hand!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0326.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 325\\nFor years no hours of quiet sleep upon my eyelids came,\\nFor Nourreddin had poison d all my slumber with his\\nfame.\\nI have waited for my vengeance; but now, alive or dead,\\nI swear to thee by my brothers graves that thou shalt\\nhave his head!\\nIt was a glorious sight to see, when those two warriors\\nmet,\\nThe one dark as a thunder-cloud, in strength and man-\\nhood set;\\nThe other young and beautiful, with lithe and graceful\\nform,\\nBut terrible as is the flash that rushes through the storm.\\nAnd eye to eye, and hand to hand, in deadly strife they\\nstood,\\nAnd smoked the ground whereon they fought, hot with\\ntheir mingled blood;\\nTill dropped the vahant Infidel, fainter his blows and few,\\nWhile fiercer from the combat still the youthful Christian\\ngrew.\\nNourreddin falls; hi*s sever d head, it is young Lara sprize:\\nBut dizzily the field of death floats in the victor s eyes.\\nHis cheek is as his foeman s pale, his white lips gasp for\\nbreath;\\nAy, this was all he asked of Heaven, the victory and\\ndeath.\\nHe raised him on his arm, My page, come thou and do\\nmy will;\\nCanst thou not see a turban d band upon yon distant hill?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0327.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "326 POETIC JEWELS\\nNow strip me of my armor, boy, by yonder river s side,\\nPlace firm this head upon my breast, and fling me on the\\ntide.\\nThat river washed his natal halls, its waters bore him on,\\nTill the moonlight on the hero in his father s presence\\nshone.\\nThe old chief to the body drew, his gallant boy wasdead,\\nBut his vow of vengeance had been kept, he bore Nour-\\nreddin s head.\\nL. E. L.\\nANTONY IN ARMS.\\nwe are side by side One dark arm furls\\nAround me like a serpent warm and bare;\\nfThe other, lifted mid a gleam of pearls.\\nHolds a full golden goblet in the air:\\nHer face shining through her cloudy curls\\nWith light that makes me drunken unaware.\\nAnd with my chin upon my breast I smile\\nUpon her, darkening inward all the while.\\nAnd through the chamber curtains, backward roll d\\nBy spicy winds that fan my fevered head,\\nI see a sandy, flat slope, yellow as gold,\\nTo the brown banks of Nilus wrinkling red\\nIn the slow sunset and mine eyes behold\\nThe West, low down beyond the river s bed.\\nGrow sullen, ribbed with many a brazen bar.\\nUnder the white smile of the Cyprian star.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0328.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 327\\nA bitter Roman vision floateth black\\nBefore me, in my dizzy brain s despite;\\nThe Roman armor brindles on my back,\\nMy swelling nostrils drink the fumes of fight:\\nHut, then, she smiles upon me and I lack\\nThe warrior will that frowns on lewd delight.\\nAnd passionately proud and desolate,\\nI smile to answer to the joy I hate.\\nJoy coming uninvoked, asleep, awake,\\nMakes sunshine on the grave of buried powers;\\nOfttimes I wholly loathe her for the sake\\nOf manhood slipt away in easeful hours:\\nBut from her lips mild words and kisses break.\\nTill I am like a ruin mock d with flowers;\\nI think of Honor s face then turn to hers\\nDark, like the splendid shame that she confers.\\nLo! how her dark arm holds me! I am bound\\nBy the soft touch of fingers light as leaves:\\nI drag my face aside, but at the sound\\nOf her low voice I turn and she perceives\\nThe cloud of Rome upon my face, and round\\nMy neck she twines her odorous arms and grieves.\\nShedding upon a heart as soft as they.\\nTears tis a hero s task to kiss away!\\nAnd then she loosens from me, trembling still.\\nLike a bright, throbbing robe, and bids me go!\\nWhen pearly tears her drooping eyelids fill,\\nAnd lost to use of life and hope and will,\\nI gaze upon her with a warrior s woe.\\nAnd turn, and watch her sidelong in annoy\\nThen snatch her to me, flush d with shame and joy!\\n10", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0329.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "328 POETIC JEWELS\\nOnce more, O Rome! I would be son of thine\\nThis constant prayer my chain d soul ever saith\\nI thirst for honorable end I pine\\nNot thus to kiss away my mortal breath.\\nBut comfort such as this may not be mine\\nI cannot even die a Roman s death:\\nI seek a Roman s grave, a Roman s rest\\nBut, dying, I would die upon her breast!\\nRobert Biichanaji.\\nTHE IDEAL AND THE REAL.\\n,Y passion days of poetry are o er;\\nAnd air, and earth, and teeming ocean wear\\nImagination s golden tint no more;\\nNo more can P^ancy s scintillating glare\\nPeople the world with visions false as fair;\\nThe day-dreams, full of ecstasy before,\\nWhich came into my thought and lingered there\\nTill all the earth a hue of beauty wore,\\nAre gone; I dream not now as I have dreamed of yore.\\nThe eye hath bounds of vision o er the deep,\\nThe thunder dies upon the distant ear.\\nAnd all the senses sink at last to sleep,\\nWearied and worn with that they witness here;\\nBut still untiring Fancy will appear\\nIn search of all the beautiful and true;\\nBringing the distant glories ever near,\\nClothing the old with vestments ever new,\\nAnd waking sounds and sights of multiplying hue.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0330.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 320\\nOh how the memory of those dream-lights rise\\nOnce more within my passionless survey!\\nI look again upon the sunny skies\\nPeopled with all the vapory hosts of day,\\nReflecting back the sunlight in their play,\\nAnd seeming, in their far-off azure home,\\nLike phantoms from the spirit-land away.\\nThe spell steals o er me still; the visions come;\\nOut o er the ideal world my raptured senses roam!\\nOh, wondrous efflux from thy maker, God\\nLet me drink in thy glories once again.\\nAs when the breath of morning is abroad,\\nThe level sun-ray shoots across the plain;\\nThe forest, dripping with the gentle rain.\\nThrows back the sunshine from its leafy gems;\\nThe rocks loom up from out the distant main\\nEach like a monster sea-god, as it stems\\nThe ocean surges with their spray-tipt diadems.\\nAnd all around is beautiful and bright;\\nAnd all beneath, upon the valley s breast,\\nIs radiant with the rosy morning light;\\nAnd all above, like mansions of the blest.\\nThe vapory world is moving to the west\\nIn soft and silent grandeur through the sky.\\nThe song bird rises from his lowly nest\\nTo meet the day-god with his cheerful cry.\\nAnd mounts away with grateful pinions upon high.\\nThe fairy vision widens to my view,\\nAnd all the earth a hue of beauty wears;\\nAnd still with magic changes ever new,\\nThe light of nature s necromancy bears;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0331.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "330 P OETIC JE WELS\\nI see the vivid lightning as it glares,\\nAnd hear the equatorial thunders roll;\\nI watch the surges, startled from their lairs,\\nAnd driven before the tempest to the pole.\\nLike monster coursers to their far-off icy goal.\\nThe howling winds, the booming thunder s roar,\\nThe blinding lightning and the driving cloud.\\nThe bellowing waves that burst upon the shore,\\nAnd all the conflict of the tempest loud,\\nStill on the o er wrought fancy crowd\\nAs scenes of beauty, stern, august, and deep!\\nAnd even when Darkness wraps her nightly shroud\\nO er earth, and sea, and storm, no dreamless sleep\\nCan banish vigils such as fancy still will keep.\\nI read the lay of geologic lore;\\nI count the finny dwellers of the sea;\\nSurvey the wonders of the shelly shore;\\nOr in the forest measure every tree.\\nI listen to the song of birds, or see\\nThe countless habitants of hill or plain.\\nAnd all the hosts of nature, wild and free;\\nAnd yet the crowning wonder will remain\\nMan, the great Immortal, chief of all the train.\\nDown in the rocky records of the earth\\nExtends the epic of creative power.\\nBefore the seas were made or hills had birth,\\nBefore the hoary mountains learned to tower.\\nEre forest grew, or bloomed the primal flower,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0332.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 331\\nObedient atoms jrathered into form,\\nChaotic Darkness wakened Morning s hour,\\nAnd all the elements of calm and storm\\nObeyed the king of day with life and being warm.\\nOh, these are poetry. With solemn awe\\nTo watch the working of Almighty power,\\nAnd see the universe obedient to His law;\\nWhether on earth expands the humblest flower.\\nForests extend, or hills and mountains tower;\\nWhether the heavens from star to star abroad,\\nProclaim the glory of the midnight hour\\nMy wrapt, adoring spirit still is awed\\nWith that sublime, eternal poetry of God!\\nEdward R. Roe.\\nMAUD AND MADGE; or, AFTER THE BALL.\\n^^^^^HEY sat and combed their beautiful hair.\\nTheir long, bright tresses, one by one,\\nAs they laughed and talked in the chamber there,\\nr* After the revel was done.\\nIdly they talked of waltz and quadrille,\\nIdly they laughed, like other girls.\\nWho, over the fire, when all is still,\\nComb out their braids and curls.\\nRobe of satin and Brussels lace.\\nKnots of flowers, and ribbons, too,\\nScattered about in every place.\\nFor the revel is through.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0333.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "332 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd Maud and Madge, in robes of white,\\nThe prettiest night-gowns under the sun,\\nStockingless, sh pperless, sit in the night,\\nFor the revel is done.\\nSit and comb their beautiful hair.\\nThose wonderful waves of brown and gold,\\nTill the fire is out in the chamber there,\\nAnd the little bare feet are cold.\\nThen out of the gathering winter chill,\\nAll out of the bitter St. Agnes weather.\\nWhile the fire is out and the house is still,\\nMaud and Madge together,\\nMaud and Madge in robes of white.\\nThe prettiest night-gowns under the sun,\\nCurtained away from the chilly night,\\nAfter the revel is done,\\nFloat along in a splendid dream,\\nTo a golden gittern s tinkling tune.\\nWhile a thousand lusters shimmering stream,\\nIn a palace s grand saloon.\\nFlashing of jewels and flutter of laces,\\nTropical odors sweeter than musk,\\nMen and women with beautiful faces\\nAnd eyes of tropical dusk,\\nAnd one face shining out like a star.\\nOne face haunting the dreams of each,\\nAnd one voice, sweeter than others are,\\nBreaking into silvery speech,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0334.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 333\\nTelling, through lips of bearded bloom,\\nAn old, old story over again,\\nAs down the royal bannered room,\\nTo the golden gittern s strain.\\nTwo and two, they dreamily walk,\\nWhile an unseen spirit walks beside\\nAnd, all unheard in the lover s talk.\\nHe claimed the one for a bride.\\nOh, Maud and Madge, dream on together,\\nWith never a pang of jealous fear\\nFor, ere the bitter Saint Agnes weather\\nShall whiten another year,\\nRobed for the bridal, and robed for the tomb.\\nBraided brown hair, and golden tress.\\nThere ll be only one of you left for the bloom\\nOf the bearded lips to press,\\nOnly one for the bridal pearls.\\nThe robe of satin and Brussels lace,\\nOnly one to blush through. her curls.\\nAt the sight of a lover s face.\\nOh, beautiful Madge, in your bridal white,\\nFor you the revel has just begun\\nBut for her who sleeps in your arms to-night\\nThe revel of Life is done\\nBut robed and crowned with your saintly bliss,\\nQueen of heaven and bride of the sun.\\nOh, beautiful Maud, you ll never miss\\nThe kisses another hath won\\nNora Perry.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0335.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "334 POETIC JEWELS\\nANNABEL LEE.\\nT was many and many a year ago,\\nIn a kingdom by the sea,\\njThat a maiden there Hved whom you may know\\nf^ By the name of Annabel Lee;\\nAnd this maiden lived with no other thought\\nThan to love and be loved by me,\\n/was a child, and she was a child\\nIn this kingdom by the sea;\\nBut we loved with a love that was more than love\\nI and my Annabel Lee;\\nWith a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven\\nCoveted her and me.\\nAnd this was the reason that, long ago,\\nIn this kingdom by the sea,\\nA wind blew out of a cloud, chilling\\nMy beautiful Annabel Lee;\\nSo that her high-born kinsman came\\nAnd bore her away from me,\\nTo shut her up in a sepulcher\\nIn this kingdom by the sea.\\nThe angels, not half so happy in Heaven,\\nWent envying her and me\\nYes! that was the reason (as all men know.\\nIn this kingdom by the sea)\\nThat the wind came out of the cloud by night.\\nChilling and killing my Annabel Lee.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0336.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "EDGAR ALLAN POE\\nThe Greatest Genius America has produced.\\nPhotograph of bust presented to University of Virginia, and Portrait", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0337.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0338.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 337\\nBut our love it was stronger by far than the love\\nOf those who were older than we-\\nOf many far wiser than we\\nAnd neither the angels in Heaven above,\\nNor the demons down under the sea,\\nCan ever dissever my soul from the soul\\nOf the beautiful Annabel Lee:\\nFor the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams\\nOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;\\nAnd the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes\\nOf the beautiful Annabel Lee;\\nAnd so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side\\nOf my darling my darling my life and my bride.\\nIn the sepulcher there by the sea,\\nIn her tomb by the sounding sea.\\nE. A. Poc.\\nTHY LOVE SHALL LEAD ME.\\nFarewell, sweet maiden, you I ve loved so well\\nFarewell, dear girl, I go where strangers dwell;\\nWith thee will purest love and friendship rest,\\nTho far he goes that ever loved thee best.\\nNo other life will ever seem so near,\\nNo other name will ever be so dear.\\nThy love shall lead me; tho no little hand\\nIn mine is placed to guide me in the land\\nI go to, still, unto my soul\\nThy love will point the sought for goal.\\nE, T. R.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0339.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "338\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nYOU KISSED ME.\\n[The following lines were written in 1867 by a lady under twenty years of\\nage. James Redpath, the historian, thought so much of the poem that he had an\\nJ edition printed on white satin. John G. Whittier, the Quaker poet, wrote of\\nit and its young author that she had truly mastered the secret of English\\nverse.]\\n^OU kissed me! My head\\nDropped low on your breast\\nWith a feeling of shelter\\nAnd infinite rest.\\nWhile the holy emotions\\nMy tongue dared not speak\\nFlashed up in a flame\\nFrom my heart to my cheek.\\nYour arms held me fast:\\nOh! your arms were so bold;\\nHeart beat against heart\\nIn their passionate fold.\\nYour glances seemed drawing\\nMy soul through my eyes,\\nAs the sun draws the mist\\nFrom the sea to the skies.\\nYour lips clung to mine\\nTill I prayed in my bliss\\nThey might never unclasp\\nFrom the rapturous kiss.\\nYou kissed me! My heart.\\nAnd my breath, and my will\\nIn delirious joy\\nFor a moment stood still.\\nLife had for me then\\nNo temptations, no charms,\\nNo visions of happiness", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0340.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 330\\nOutside of your arms.\\nAnd were I this instant\\nAn angel possessed\\nOf the peace and the joy-\\nThat are given the blest,\\nI would fling my white robes\\nUnrcpiningly down,\\nI would tear from my forehead\\nIts beautiful crown,\\nTo nestle once more\\nIn that haven of rest\\nYour lips upon mine,\\nMy head on your breast.\\nYou kissed me! My soul,\\nIn a bliss so divine,\\nReeled and swooned like a drunken man\\nFoolish with wine,\\nAnd I thought twere delicious\\nTo die there if death\\nWould but come while my lips\\nWere yet moist with your breath:\\nTwere delicious to die\\nIf my heart might grow cold\\nWhile your arms clasped me round\\nIn their passionate fold.\\nAnd these are the questions\\nI ask day and night:\\nMust lips taste no more\\nSuch exquisite delight?\\nWould you care if your breast\\nWere my shelter as then.\\nAnd if you were here\\nWould you kiss me again?", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0341.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "340 POETIC JEWELS\\nOSTLER JOE.\\nSTOOD at eve, as the sun went down, by a grave\\nwhere a woman hes,\\niWho lured men s souls to the shores of sin with the\\nlight of her wanton eyes;\\nWho sang the song that the siren sang on the treacherous\\nLurley height,\\nWhose face was as fair as a summer day, and whose heart\\nwas as black as night.\\nYet a blossom I fain would pluck to-day from the garden\\nabove her dust\\nNot the languorous lily of soulless sin, nor the blood-red\\nrose of lust,\\nBut a sweet white blossom of holy love that grew in the\\none green spot,\\nIn the arid desert of Phryne s life where all was parched\\nand hot.\\nIn the summer, when the meadows were aglow with blue\\nand red,\\nJoe, the ostler of the Magpie, and fair Annie Smith were\\nwed.\\nPlump was Annie, plump and pretty, with a cheek as\\nwhite as snow;\\nHe was anything but handsome, was the Magpie s Ostler\\nJoe.\\nBut he won the winsome lassie. They d a cottage and a\\ncow,\\nAnd her matronhood sat lightly on the village beauty s\\nbrow;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0342.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 341\\nSped the months and came a baby such a bkie-eyed\\nbaby boy!\\nJoe was working in the stables when they told him of his\\njoy.\\nHe was rubbing down the horses, and he gave them then\\nand there\\nAll a special feed of clover, just in honor of the heir.\\nIt had been his great ambition, and he told the horses so,\\nThat the Fates would send a baby who might bear the\\nname of Joe.\\nLittle Joe the child was christened, and, like babies, grew\\napace;\\nHe d his mother s eyes of azure, and his father s honest\\nface.\\nSwift the happy years went over, years of blue and cloud-\\nless sky,\\nLove was lord of that small cottage, and the tempest\\npassed them by.\\nPassed them by for years, then swiftly burst in fury o er\\ntheir home.\\nDown the lane by Annie s cottage chanced a gentleman to\\nroam;\\nThrice he came and saw her sitting by the window with\\nher child,\\nAnd he nodded to the baby, and the baby laughed and\\nsmiled.\\nSo at last it grew to know him little Joe was nearly four;\\nHe would call the pretty gempHn as he passed the\\nopen door;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0343.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "342 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd one day he ran ana caught him, and in child s phiy\\npulled him in;\\nAnd the baby Joe had prayed for brought about the\\nmother s sin.\\nTwas the same old wretched story that for ages bards have\\nsung\\nTwas a woman weak and wanton and a villain s tempting\\ntongue;\\nTwas a picture deftly painted for a silly creature s eyes\\nOf the Babylonian wonders and the joy that in them lies.\\nAnnie listened and was tempted; she was tempted, and\\nshe fell,\\nAs the angels fell from Heaven to the blackest depths of\\nhell;\\nShe was promised wealth and splendor, and a lite of guilty\\nsloth.\\nYellow gold for child and husband, and ^he woman left\\nthem both.\\nHome one eve came Joe the Ostler with a cheery cry of\\nWife!\\nFinding that which blurred forever all the story of his life.\\nShe had left a silly letter through the cruel 5icrawl he\\nspelt;\\nThen he sought the lonely bedroom, joined his hands and\\nknelt.\\nNow, O Lord, O God, forgive her, for she ain t to blame,\\nhe cried\\nFor I owt t a seen her trouble, and a gone away and\\ndied.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0344.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 343\\nWhy, a wench like her God bless her! twasn t likely\\nas her d rest\\nWith her bonny head forever on a ostler s ragged vest.\\nIt was kind o her to bear me all this long and happy\\ntime;\\nSo, for my sake please to bless her, though you count her\\ndeed a crime.\\nIf so be I don t pray proper. Lord, forgive me; for, you\\nsee,\\nI can talk all right to osses, but I m nervous like with\\nThee.\\nNever a line came to the cottage from the woman who had\\nflown.\\nJoe, the baby, died that winter, and the man was left\\nalone.\\nNe er a bitter word he uttered, but in silence kissed the\\nrod,\\nSaving what he told the horses, saving what he told his\\nGod.\\nFar away, in mighty London, rose the woman into fame,\\nFor her beauty won men s homage, and she prospered in\\nher shame;\\nQuick from lord to lord she flitted, higher still each prize\\nshe won,\\nAnd her rival paled beside her, as the stars beside the\\nsun.\\nNext she made the stage her market, and she dragged\\nArt s temple down\\nTo the level of a show-place for the outcasts of the town.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0345.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "344 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd the kisses she had given to poor Ostler Joe for nought,\\nWith their gold and costly jewels rich and titled lovers\\nbought.\\nWent the years with flying footsteps while the star was at\\nits height;\\nThen the darkness came on swiftly, and the gloaming\\nturned to night.\\nShattered strength and faded beauty tore the laurels from\\nher brow;\\nOf the thousands who had worshiped, never one came near\\nher now.\\nBroken down in health and fortune, men forgot her very\\nname,\\nTill the news that she was dying woke the echoes of her\\nfame;\\nAnd the papers, in their gossip, mentioned how an\\nactress lay\\nSick to death, in humble lodgings, growing weaker every\\nday.\\nOne there was who read the story in a far-off country\\nplace.\\nAnd that night the dying woman woke and looked upon\\nhis face;\\nOnce again the strong arms clasped her that had clasped\\nher long ago.\\nAnd the weary head lay pillowed on the breast of Ostler\\nJoe.\\nAll the past had he forgotten, all the sorrow and the\\nshame;\\nHe had found her sick and lonely, and his wife he now\\ncould claim.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0346.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 345\\nSince the grand folks who had known her one and all had\\nslunk away,\\nHe could clasp his long-lost darling, and no man could\\nsay him nay.\\nIn his arms death found her lying, in his arms her spirit\\nfled;\\nAnd his tears came down in torrents as he knelt beside\\nher dead.\\nNever once his love had faltered through her base, unhal-\\nlowed life;\\nAnd the stone above her ashes bears the honored name\\nof wife.\\nThat s the blossom I fain would pluck to-day from the\\ngarden above her dust;\\nNot the languorous lily of soulless sin or the blood-red\\nrose of lust;\\nBut a sweet white blossom of holy love that grew in the\\none green spot\\nIn the arid desert of Phryne s life where all was parched\\nand hot.\\nGeorge R. Sims.\\n20", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0347.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "346\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nTHE CONFLAGRATION.\\nFrom Schiller s Lay of the Bell:\\nARK a wail from the steeple! aloud\\nThe bell shrills its voice to the crowd!\\nLook look red as blood\\nAll on high!\\nIt is not the daylight that fills with its flood\\nThe sky!\\nWhat a clamor awaking\\nRoars up through the street,\\nWhat a hell vapor breaking\\nRolls on through the street,\\nAnd higher and higher\\nAloft moves the column of fire!\\nThrough the vistas and rows\\nLike a whirlwind it goes,\\nAnd the air like the steam from a furnace glows.\\nBeams are crackling posts are shrinking\\nWalls are sinking windows clinking\\nChildren crying\\nMothers flying\\nAnd the beast (the black ruin yet smoldering under)\\nYells the howls of its pain and its ghastly wonder;\\nHurry and skurry away away,\\nThe face of the night is as clear as day!\\nAs the links in a chain,\\nAgain and again\\nFlies the bucket from hand to hand;\\nHigh in arches up-rushing\\nThe engines are gushing,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0348.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 347\\nAnd the flood, as a beast on the prey that it hounds,\\nWith a roar on the breast of the element bounds,\\nTo the grain and the fruits.\\nThrough the rafters and beams,\\nThrough the barns and the garners it crackles and streams!\\nAs if they would rend up the earth from its roots,\\nRush the flames to the sky\\nGiant high;\\nAnd at length,\\nWearied out and despairing, man bows to their strength)\\nWith an idle gaze sees their wrath consume,\\nAnd submits to his doom!\\nDesolate\\nThe place, and dread.\\nFor storms the barren bed.\\nIn the blank voids that cheerful casements were,\\nComes to and fro the melancholy air\\nAnd sits despair;\\nAnd through the ruin, blackening in its shroud,\\nPeers, as it flits, the melancholy cloud.\\nOne human glance of grief upon the grave\\nOf all that fortune gave\\nThe loiterer takes; then turns him to depart,\\nAnd grasps the wanderer s staff and mans his heart;\\nWhatever else the element bereaves.\\nOne blessing more than all it reft it leaves,\\nThe faces that he loves! He counts them o er,\\nSee not one look is missing from that store!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0349.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "5i8 POETIC JEWELS\\nONLY THE BRAKESMAN,\\nNLY the brakesman killed say, was that\\nwhat they said\\nThe brakesman was our Joe; so, then our Joe\\nis dead!\\nDead? Dead? Dead? But I cannot think its so;\\nIt was some other brakesman; it cannot be our Joe.\\nWhy, only this last evening I saw him riding past;\\nThe trains don t stop here often go rushing by as fast\\nAs lightning but Joe saw me, and waved his hand;\\nhe sat\\nOn the very last old coal-car; how do you count for that\\nThat he was killed alone, and the others saved, when he\\nWas last inside the tunnel? Come, now, it couldn t be.\\nIt s some mistake, of course; twas the fireman, you ll find:\\nThe engine struck the rock, and he was just behind\\nAnd the roof fell down owJiim, not on Joe, our Joe I\\nsaw\\nThat train myself, the engine had work enough to draw\\nThe coal-cars full of coal that rattled, square and black,\\nBy tens and twenties past our door, along that narrow\\ntrack,\\nOn into the dark mountains, I never see those peaks\\nThout hating them. For much they care whether the\\nwater leaks\\nDown their big sides, to wet the stones that arch the\\ntunnels there,\\nSo long so black -they all may go, and much the\\nmountains care!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0350.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 349\\nI m sorry for that fireman What s that? I don t pretend\\nTo more than this: I saw that train, and Joe was at the\\nend,\\nThe very end, I tell you! Come, don t stand here and\\nmock\\nWhat it was there, right at his end, the tunnel caved,\\nthe rock\\nFell on him? But I don t believe a word Yes, that s his\\nchain.\\nAnd that s his poor old silver watch; he bought it\\nWhat s this stain\\nAll over it? Why, it is red! O Joe, my boy, O Joe,\\nThen it was you, and you are dead down in that tun-\\nnel Go\\nAnd bring my boy back! He was all the son I had;\\nthe girls\\nAre very well, but not like Joe. Such pretty golden\\ncurls\\nJoe had until I cut them off at four years old; he ran\\nTo meet me always at the gate, my bonny little man.\\nYou don t remember him? But then you ve only seen\\nhim when\\nHe rides by on the coal-trains among the other men,\\nAll of them black and grimed with coal, and circles round\\ntheir eyes.\\nWhizzing along by day and night. But you would feel\\nsurprise\\nTo see how fair he is when clean on Sundays, and I know\\nYou d think him handsome then; I ll have God! I for-\\ngot\u00e2\u0080\u0094 O Joe,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0351.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "350 POETIC JEWELS\\nMy boy! my boy! and are you dead! So young but\\ntwenty. Dead\\nDown in that awful tunnel, with the mountain overhead!\\nThey re bringing him? Oh, yes, I know; they ll bring\\nhim, and, what s more.\\nThey ll do it free, the company! They ll leave him at my\\ndoor\\nJust as he is, all grimed and black. Jane, put the irons\\non,\\nAnd wash his shirt, his Sunday-shirt; it s white; he did\\nhave one\\nWhite shirt for best, and proud he wore it Sunday with\\na tie\\nOf blue a new one. O my boy, how could they let you\\ndie\\nCrushed by those rocks! If I d been there, I d heaved\\nthem off I know\\nThey could have done it if they d tried. They let you die\\nfor, oh,\\nOnly the brakesman! and his wage was small. The\\nengineer\\nMust first be seen to there in front. My God! it stands\\nas clear\\nBefore my eyes as though I d seen it all the dark the\\ncrash\\nThe hissing steam\u00e2\u0080\u0094 the wet stone sides the arch above\\nthe flash\\nOf lanterns coming and my boy, poor boy, lying there,\\nDying alone under the rocks only his golden hair", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0352.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 351\\nTo tell that it was Joe a mass all grimed, that doesn t\\nstir\\nBut mother ll know you, dear, twill make no difference to\\nher\\nHow black with coal-dust you may be, your poor, hard-\\nworking hands\\nAll torn and crushed, perhaps; yes, yes but no one\\nunderstands\\nThat, even though he s better off, poor lad, where he has\\ngone,\\nI and the girls are left behind to stand it and live on\\nAs best we can without him! What A wreath? A\\nlady sent\\nSome flowers? Was passing through and heard felt\\nsorry well, twas meant\\nKindly, no doubt; but poor Joe d been the very first to\\nlaugh\\nAt white flowers round his blackened face. You ll write\\nhis epitaph\\nWhat s that? His name and age? Poor boy! poor\\nJoe! his name has done\\nIts work in this life; for his age he was not twenty-one,\\nWell grown but slender far too young for such a place,\\nbut then\\nHe wanted to help mother, and to be among the men.\\nFor he was always trying to be old he carried wood\\nAnd built the fires for me before he hardly understood\\nWhat a fire was my little boy my darling baby Joe\\nThere s something snapped within my breast, I think; it\\nhurts me so,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0353.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "352 POETIC JEWELS\\nIt must be something broken. What is that I felt the\\nfloor\\nShake; there s some one on the step. Go, Jennie, set the\\ndoor\\nWide open, for your brother Joe is coming home. They\\nsaid,\\nOnly the brakesman, but it is my only son that s\\ndead!\\nConst atice Fenimore Woolson.\\nBALAKLAVA.\\nT THE charge at Balaklava!\\nO that rash and fatal charge!\\nNever was a fiercer, braver.\\nThan that charge at Balaklava,\\nOn the battle s bloody marge!\\nAll the day the Russian columns.\\nFortress huge, and blazing banks,\\nPoured their dread destructive volumes\\nOn the French and English ranks.\\nOn the gallant allied ranks!\\nEarth and sky seemed rent asunder\\nBy the loud, incessant thunder!\\nWhen a strange but stern command\\nNeedless, heedless, rash command\\nCame to Lucan s little band\\nScarce six hundred men and horses\\nOf those vast contending forces:\\nEngland s lost unless you save her!\\nCharge the pass at Balaklava!\\nO that rash and fatal charge,\\nOn the battle s bloody marge!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0354.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 353\\nFar away the Russian Eagles\\nSoar o er smoky hill and dell,\\nAnd their hordes, like howling beagles\\nDense and countless, round them yell!\\nThundering cannon, deadly mortar.\\nSweep the field in every quarter!\\nNever, since the days of Jesus,\\nTrembled so the Chersonesus!\\nHere behold the Gallic Lilies\\nStout St. Louis golden Lilies\\nFloat as erst at old Ramillies!\\nAnd beside them, lo! the Lion!\\nWith her trophied cross is flying!\\nGlorious standards! shall they waver\\nOn the field of Balaklava?\\nNo, by Heavens! at that command\\nSudden, rash, but stern command\\nCharges Lucan s little band!\\nBrave six hundred! lo! they charge,\\nOn the battle s bloody marge!\\nDown yon deep and skirted valley.\\nWhere the crowded cannon play\\nWhere the Czar s fierce cohorts rally.\\nCossack, Calmuck, savage Kalli\\nDown that gorge they swept away!\\nDown that new Thermopylae.\\nFlashing swords and helmets see!\\nUnderneath the iron shower,\\nTo the brazen cannon s jaws,\\nHeedless of their deadly power\\nPress they without fear or pause\\nTo the very cannon s jaws!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0355.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "354 POETIC JEWELS\\nGallant Nolan, brave as Roland\\nAt the field of Roncesvalles,\\nDashes down the fatal valley,\\nDashes on the bolt of death.\\nShouting with his latest breath,\\nCharge, then, gallants! do not waver,\\nCharge the pass at Balaklava!\\nO that rash and fatal charge,\\nOn the battle s bloody marge!\\nNow the bolts of volleyed thunder\\nRend that little band asunder,\\nSteed and rider wildly screaming.\\nScreaming wildly, sink away;\\nLate so proudly, proudly gleaming,\\nNow but lifeless clods of clay\\nNow but bleeding clods of clay!\\nNever, since the days of Jesus,\\nSaw such sight the Chersonesus!\\nYet your remnant, brave six hundred,\\nPresses onward, onward, onward.\\nTill they storm the bloody pass\\nTill, like brave Leonidas,\\nThey storm the deadly pass!\\nSabring Cossack, Calmuck, Kalli,\\nIn that wild, shot-rended valley,\\nDrenched with fire and blood, like lava,\\nAwful pass at Balaklava!\\nO that rash and fatal charge,\\nOn that battle s bloody marge!\\nFor now Russia s rallied forces\\nSwarming hordes of Cossack horses,\\nTrampling o er the reeking corses,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0356.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 355\\nDrive the thinned assailants back,\\nDrive the feeble remnant back,\\nO er their late heroic track!\\nVain, alas! now rent and sundered,\\nVain your struggles, brave Two Hundred!\\nTwice your number lie asleep,\\nIn that valley dark and deep,\\nWeak and wounded you retire\\nFrom that hurricane of fire\\nThat tempestuous storm of fire\\nBut no soldiers, firmer, braver.\\nEver trod the field of fame.\\nThan the knights of Balaklava\\nHonor to each hero s name!\\nYet their country long shall mourn\\nFor the rank so rashly shorn\\nSo gallantly, but madly shorn,\\nIn that fierce and fatal charge,\\nOn the battle s bloody marge.\\nAlexander B. Meek.\\nA BALLAD OF ATHLONE;\\nOR, HOW THEY BROKE DOWN THE BRIDGE.\\nOES any man dream that a Gael can fear?-\\nOf a thousand deeds let him learn but one!\\nThe Shannon swept onward, broad and clear.\\nBetween the leaguers and worn Athlone.\\nBreak down the bridge! Six warriors rushed\\nThrough the storm of shot and the storm of shell.\\nWith late, but certain, victory flushed,\\nThe grim Dutch gunners eyed them well.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0357.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "356 POETIC JEWELS\\nThey wrenched at the planks mid a hail of fire;\\nThey fell in death, their work half done;\\nThe bridge stood fast; and nigh and nigher\\nThe foe swarmed darkly, densely on.\\nO who for Erin will strike a stroke?\\nWho hurl yon planks where the waters roar?\\nSix warriors forth from their comrades broke.\\nAnd flung them upon that bridge once more.\\nAgain at the rocking planks they dashed;\\nAnd four dropped dead; and two remained:\\nThe huge beams groaned, and the arch down-crashed\\nTwo stalwart swimmers the margin gained.\\nSt. Ruth in his stirrups stood up, and cried,\\nI have seen no deed like that in France!\\nWith a toss of his head Sarsfield replied,\\nThey had luck, the dogs Twas a merry chance!\\nO many a year upon Shannon s side\\nThey sang upon moor and they sang upon heath\\nOf the twain that breasted that raging tide,\\nAnd the ten that shook bloody hands with Death.\\nAubrey De Vere.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0358.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "1\\nf^ S-^wr,\\nLOVE S YOUNG HOPES.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0359.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0360.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 359\\nTHE DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE.\\nFrom \u00e2\u0096\u00a0^The Princess.\\nEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean,\\nTears from the depth of some divine despair\\n.ise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,\\nIn looking on the happy Autumn fields,\\nAnd thinking of the days that are no more.\\nFresh as the first beam glittering on a sail.\\nThat brings our friends up from the underworld.\\nSad as the last which reddens over one\\nThat sinks with all we love below ^he verge;\\nSo sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.\\nAh, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns\\nThe earliest pipe of half awakened birds\\nTo dying ears, when unto dying eyes\\nThe casement slowly grows a glimmering square;\\nSo sad, so strange, the days that are no more.\\nDear as remembered kisses after death,\\nAnd sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned\\nOn lips that are for others; deep as love.\\nDeep as first love, and wild with all regret;\\nO Death in Life, the days that are no more.\\nAlfred TenuysoJi.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0361.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "dm POETIC JEWELS\\nKUBLA KHAN; OR A VISION IN A DREAM.\\nA FRAGMENT.\\n[Algernon Charles Swinburne says of the following poem, For absolute\\nn^lody and splendor it were hardly rash to call it the first poem in the lan-\\ngJage.\\nN Xanadu did Kubla Khan\\nA stately pleasure-dome decree,\\nWhere Alph, the sacred river, ran\\nThrough caverns measureless to man\\nDown to a sunless sea.\\nSo twice five miles of fertile ground,\\nWith walls and towers were girdled round;\\nAnd there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,\\nWhere blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;\\nAnd here were forests ancient as the hills,\\nEnfolding sunny spots of greenery.\\nBut oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted\\nDown the green hill athwart a cedar cover!\\nA savage place! as holy and enchanted\\nAs e er beneath a waning moon was haunted\\nBy woman wailing for her demon lover!\\nAnd from this chasm, with caseless turmoil seething.\\nAs if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,\\nA mighty fountain momently was forced.\\nAmid whose swift half intermitted burst\\nHuge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail.\\nOr chaffy grain beneath the thresher s flail;\\nAnd mid these dancing rocks at once and ever\\nIt flung up momently the sacred river.\\nFive miles meandering with a mazy motion\\nThrough wood and dale the sacred river ran.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0362.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 3G1\\nThen reached the caverns measurless to man,\\nAnd sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:\\nAnd mid this tumult Kubia heard from far\\nAncestral voices prophesying war!\\nThe shadow of the dome of pleasure\\nFloated midway on the waves;\\nWhere was heard the mingled measure\\nFrom the fountain and the caves.\\nIt was a miracle of rare device,\\nA sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!\\nA damsel with a dulcimer,\\nIn a vision once I saw:\\nIt was an Abyssinian maid,\\nAnd on her dulcimer she played,\\nSinging of Mount Abora.\\nCould I revive within me\\nHer symphony and song.\\nTo such a deep delight twould win me,\\nThat, with music loud and long,\\nI would build that dome in air,\\nThat sunny dome! those caves of ice!\\nAnd all who heard should see them there,\\nAnd all should cry, Beware! Beware!\\nHis flashing eyes, his floating hair!\\nWeave a circle round him thrice,\\nAnd close your eyes with holy dread,\\nFor he on honey-dew hath fed,\\nAnd drunk the milk of Paradise.\\nSamuel Taylor Coleridge.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0363.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "36L5 POETIC JEWELS\\nYOUNG MAN, BE WISE.\\nOULDST thou reap life s golden treasure,\\nYoung man, be wise!\\nCease to follow where light pleasure\\nCheats blinking eyes!\\nLet no flattering voices win thee,\\nLet no vauntful echoes din thee,\\nBut the peace of God within thee\\nSeek and be wise!\\nWhere the fervid cup doth sparkle,\\nYoung man, be wise!\\nWhere quick glances gleam and darkle.\\nDanger surmise!\\nWhere the rattling car is dashing,\\nWhere the shallow wave is plashing,\\nWhere the colored foam is flashing,\\nFeast not thine eyes!\\nRocking on a lazy billow\\nWith roaming eyes,\\nCushioned on a dreary pillow,\\nThou art not wise;\\nTake the powers within thee sleeping,\\nTrim the plot that s in thy keeping;\\nThou wilt bless the task when reaping\\nSweet labor s prize.\\nSince the green earth had beginning,\\nLand, sea, and skies,\\nToil their rounds with sleepless spinning.\\nSuns sink and rise;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0364.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 363\\nGod, who with His image crown d us,\\nWorks within, above, around us;\\nLet us, where His will hath bound us,\\nWork and be wise!\\nAll the great that won before thee\\nStout labor s prize,\\nWave their conquering banners o er thee;\\nUp and be wise!\\nWilt thou from their sweat inherit\\nFruits of peace and stars of merit,\\nWhile their sword, when thou shouldst wear it,\\nRust-eaten lies?\\nWork and wait, a sturdy liver;\\n(Life fleetly flies!)\\nWork, and pray, and sing, and ever\\nLift hopeful eyes;\\nLet no blaring folly din thee!\\nWisdom, when her charm may win thee.\\nFlows a well of life within thee;\\nYoung man, be wise!\\nJohn Stuart Blnckie.\\n21", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0365.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "364 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE POOR AND HONEST SODGER.\\nHEN wild war s deadly blast was blawn.\\nAnd gentle peace returning,\\nWi mony a sweet babe fatherless,\\nAnd mony a widow mourning;\\nI left the lines and tented field.\\nWhere lang I d been a lodger,\\nMy humble knapsack a my wealth.,\\nA poor and honest sodger.\\nA leal light heart was in my breast.\\nMy hand unstained wi plunder,\\nAnd for fair Scotia, hame again,\\nI cheery on did wander.\\nI thought upon the banks o Coil,\\nI thought upon my Nancy,\\nI thought upon the witching smile\\nThat caught my youthful fancy.\\nAt length I reached the bonny glen\\nWhere early life I sported;\\nI passed the mill, and trysting thorn,\\nWhere Nancy aft I courted:\\nWha spied I but my ain dear maid,\\nDown by her mother s dwelling!\\nAnd turned me round to hide the flood\\nThat in my een was swelling.\\nWi altered voice, quoth I, Sweet lass,\\nSweet as yon hawthorn s blossom.\\nOh! happy, happy may he be,\\nThat s dearest to thy bosom!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0366.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 3(3G\\nMy purse is light, I ve far to gang,\\nAnd fain would be thy lodger;\\nI ve served my king and country lang\\nTake pity on a sodger.\\nSae wistfully she gazed on me,\\nAnd lovelier was than ever;\\nQuo she, A sodger ance I lo ed.\\nForget him shall I never:\\nOur humble cot, and hamely fare,\\nYe freely shall partake it,\\nThat gallant badge the dear cockade\\nYe re welcome fpr the sake o t.\\nShe gazed she redden d like a rose\\nSayne^ pale like any lily;\\nShe sank within my arms, and cried,\\nArt thou my ain dear Willie?\\nBy Him who made yon sun and sky,\\nBy whom true love s regarded,\\nI am the man; and thus may still\\nTrue lovers be rewarded!\\nThe wars are o er, and I m come hame,\\nAnd find thee still true-hearted;\\nThough poor in gear, we re rich in love,\\nAnd mair, we se ne er be parted.\\nQuo she, My grandsire left me gowd,\\nA mailen^ plenished fairly,\\nAnd come, my faithful sodger lad,\\nThou rt welcome to it dearly!\\nI Then. 2 Farm.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0367.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "366 POETIC JEWELS\\nFor gold the merchant plows the main,\\nThe farmer plows the manor;\\nBut glory is the sodger s prize.\\nThe sodger s wealth is honor:\\nThe brave poor sodger ne er despise,\\nNor count him as a stranger;\\nRemember, he s his country s stay\\nIn day and hour of danger.\\nRobert Burns.\\nFATHER S GROWING OLD, JOHN!\\nUR father s growing old, John!\\nHis eyes are growing dim,\\nAnd years are on his shoulders laid,\\nA heavy weight for him.\\nAnd you and I are young and hale.\\nAnd each a stalwart man.\\nAnd we must make his load as light\\nAnd easy as we can.\\nHe used to take the brunt, John!\\nAt cradle and the plow;\\nAnd earned our porridge by the sweat\\nThat trickled down his brow;\\nYet never heard we him complain,\\nWhate er his toil might be.\\nNor wanted e er a welcome seat\\nUpon his solid knee.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0368.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 3{il\\nAnd when our boy-strength came, John!\\nAnd sturdy grew each limb,\\nHe brought us to the yellow field,\\nTo share the toil with him;\\nBut he went foremost in the swath,\\nTossing aside the grain,\\nJust like the plow that heaves the soil;\\nOr ships that sheer the main.\\nNow we must lead the van, John!\\nThrough weather foul and fair.\\nAnd let the old man read and doze.\\nAnd tilt his easy-chair;\\nAnd he ll not mind it, John, you know,\\nAt eve to tell us o er\\nThose brave old days of British times,\\nOur grandsires and the war.\\nI heard you speak of ma am, John!\\nTis gospel what you say.\\nThat caring for the like of us\\nHas turned her head so gray!\\nYes, John, I do remember well\\nWhen neighbors called her vain,\\nAnd when her hair was long, and like\\nA gleaming sheaf of grain.\\nHer lips were cherry red, John!\\nHer cheeks were round and fair,\\nAnd like a ripened peach they swelled\\nAgainst her wavy hair;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0369.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "3G8 POETIC JEWELS\\nHer step fell lightly as the leaf\\nFrom ofif the summer tree,\\nAnd all day busy at the wheel\\nShe sang to you and me.\\nShe had a buxom arm, John!\\nThat wielded well the rod\\nWhene er with willful step our feet\\nThe path forbidden trod;\\nBut to the heaven of her eye\\nWe never looked in vain,\\nAnd evermore our yielding cry\\nBrought down her tears like rain.\\nBut this is long ago, John!\\nAnd we are what we are.\\nAnd little heed we, day by day,\\nHer fading cheek and hair;\\nAnd when beneath her faithful breast\\nThe tides no longer stir,\\nTis then, dear John, we most shall feel\\nWe had no friend like her!\\nSure, there can be no harm, John!\\nThus speaking softly o er\\nThe blessed names of those, ere long,\\nShall welcome us no more.\\nNay, hide it not, for why shouldst thou\\nAn honest tear disown?\\nThy heart will one day lighter be\\nRemembering it has flown.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0370.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 369\\nYes, father s growing old, John!\\nHis eyes are getting dim,\\nAnd mother s treading softly down\\nThe deep descent with him.\\nAnd you and I are young and hale,\\nAnd each a stahvart man,\\nAnd we must make their path as smooth\\nAnd level as we can.\\ny. Q. A. Wood.\\nTHE LOST AND FOUND.\\nI^J^^^^^ ^OME miners were sinking a shaft in Wales-\\n^(I know not where but the facts have fill d\\nA chink in my brain, while other tales\\nHave been swept away, as when pearls are spill d,\\nOne pearl runs into a chink in the floor:)\\nSomewhere, then, where God s light is kill d,\\nAnd men tear in the dark at the earth s heart core,\\nThese men were at work, when their axes knock d\\nA hole in the passage closed years before.\\nA slip in the earth, I suppose, had block d\\nThis gallery suddenly up, with a heap\\nOf rubble, as safe as a chest is lock d.\\nTill these men pick d it! and gan to creep\\nIn, on all fours. Then a loud shout ran\\nRound the black roof Here s a man asleep!\\nThey all push d forward, and scarce a span\\nFrom the mouth of the passage, in sooth, the lamp\\nFell on the upturn d face of a man", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0371.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "370 POETIC JEWELS\\nNo taint of death, no decaying damp\\nHad touch d that fair young brow, whereon\\nCourage had set its glorious stamp.\\nCahii as a monarch upon his throne,\\nLips hard clench d, no shadow of fear,\\nHe sat there taking his rest, alone.\\nHe must have been there for many a year;\\nThe spirit had fled, but there was its shrine,\\nIn clothes of a century old or near!\\nThe dry and embalming air of the mine\\nHad arrested the natural hand of decay,\\nNor faded the flesh, nor dimm d a line.\\nWho was he, then? No man could say\\nWhen the passage had suddenly fallen in\\nIts memory, even, was passed away!\\nIn their great rough arms, begrimed with coal.\\nThey took him up, as a tender lass\\nWill carry a babe, from that darksome hole.\\nTo the outer world of the short, warm grass;\\nThen up spoke one, Let us send for Bess,\\nShe is seventy-nine, come Martinmas;\\nOlder than any one here, I guess!\\nBelike, she may mind when the wall fell there,\\nAnd remember the chap by his comeliness!\\nSo they brought old Bess, with her silver hair,\\nTo the side of the hill, where the dead man lay\\nEre the flesh had crumbled in outer air.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0372.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 371\\nAnd the crowd around them all gave way,\\nAs with tottering steps old Bess drew nigh.\\nAnd bent o er the face of the unchanged clay.\\nThen suddenly rang a sharp, low cry!\\nBess sank on her knees, and wildly toss d\\nHer wither d arms in the southern sky\\nO Willie! Willie! my lad! my lost!\\nThe Lord be praised! after sixty years\\nI see you again! The tears you cost,\\nO Willie, darlin were bitter tears!\\nThey never looked for ye underground.\\nThey told me a tale to mock my fears!\\nThey said ye were auver the sea ye d found\\nA lass ye loved better nor me to explain\\nHow ye d a vanish d fra sight and sound.\\nO darlin a long, long life o pain\\nI ha lived since then! And now I m old,\\nSeems a most as if youth were come back again\\nSeeing ye there wi your locks o gold.\\nAnd limbs as straight as ashen beams,\\nI a most forget how the years ha rolled\\nBetween us! O Willie! how strange itseems\\nTo see ye here as I ve seen ye oft,\\nAuver and auver again in dreams!\\nIn broken words like these, with soft.\\nLow wails she rock d herself. And none\\nOf the rough men around her scoff d.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0373.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "372 POETIC JE WELS\\nVoY surely a sight like this the sun\\nHad rarely looked upon. Face to face,\\nThe old dead love and the living one!\\nThe dead, with its undimm d fleshly grace,\\nAt the end of threescore years; the quick,\\nPucker d and wither d, without a trace\\nOf its warm girl-beauty! A wizard s trick\\nBringing the youth and the love that were\\nBack to the eyes of the old and sick!\\nThose bodies were just of one age; yet there\\nDeath, clad in youth, had been standing still,\\nWhile Life had been fretting itself threadbare!\\nBut the moment was come; (as a moment will\\nTo all who have loved, and have parted here,\\nAnd have toiled alone up the thorny hill\\nWhen, at the top, as their eyes see clear,\\nOver the mists in the vale below,\\nMere specks their trials and toils appear.\\nBeside the eternal rest they know!\\nDeath came to old Bess that night, and gave\\nThe welcome summons that she should go.\\nAnd now though the rains and the winds may rave.\\nNothing can part them. Deep and wide\\nThe miners that evening dug one grave.\\nAnd there, while the summers and winters glide,\\nOld Bess and young Willie sleep side by side!\\nHamilton Aide.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0374.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 373\\nMASTER JOHNNY S NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR.\\nT was Spring the first time that I saw her, for\\nher papa and mamma moved in\\n^Next door, just as skating was over, and marbles\\nabout to begin;\\nFor the fence in our back-yard was broken, and I saw as\\nI peeped through the slat,\\nThere were Johnny Jump-ups all around her, and I\\nknew it was Spring just by that.\\nI never knew whether she saw me for she didn t say\\nnothing to me.\\nBut Ma! here s a slat in the fence broke, and the boy\\nthat is next door can see.\\nBut the next day I climbed on our wood-shed, as, you\\nknow, mamma says I ve a right,\\nAnd she calls out, Well, peekin is manners! and I\\nanswered her, *Sass is perlite!\\nBut I wasn t a bit mad, no, Papa, and to prove it, the\\nvery next day,\\nWhen she ran past our fence in the morning, I happened\\nto get in her way,\\nFor you know I am chunked and clumsy, as she says are\\nall boys of my size,\\nAnd she nearly upset me, she did, Pa, and laughed till\\ntears came in her eyes.\\nAnd then we were friends from that moment, for I know\\nthat she told Kitty Sage,\\nAnd she wasn t a girl that would flatter, that she thought\\nI was tall for my age.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0375.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "374 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd I gave her four apples that evening, and took her a\\nride on my sled,\\nAnd What am I telling you this for? Why, Papa my\\nneighbor is dead\\nYou don t hear one-half I am saying I really do think\\nIt s too bad\\nWhy, you might have seen crape on her door-knob, and\\nnoticed to-day I ve been sad.\\n.And they ve got her a coffin of rosewood, and they say\\nthey have dressed her in white,\\nAnd I ve never once looked through the fence. Pa, since\\nshe died at eleven last night.\\nAnd Ma says it s decent and proper, as I was her neigh-\\nbor and friend.\\nThat I should go there to the funeral, and she thinks that\\nyoK ought to attend;\\nBut I am so clumsy and awkward, I know I shall be in the\\nway,\\nAnd suppose they should speak to me, Papa, I wouldn t\\nknow just what to say.\\nSo I think I will get up quite early, I know I sleep late,\\nbut I know\\nI ll be sure to wake up if our Bridget pulls the string that\\nI ll tie to my toe,\\nAnd I ll crawl through the fence, and I ll gather the\\nJohnny Jump-ups as they grew\\nRound her feet the first day that I saw her, and. Papa, I ll\\ngive them to you;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0376.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 375\\nFor you re a big man, and you know, Pa, can come and\\ngo just where you choose;\\nAnd you ll take the flowers in to her, and surely they ll\\nnever refuse;\\nBut, Papa, don t say they re from Johnny. T/ny won t\\nunderstand, don t you see\\nBut just lay them down on her bosom, and, Papa, she II\\nknow they re from me.\\nBret Harte.\\nALONZO THE BRAVE AND THE FAIR IMOGENE.\\n52^^^ WARRIOR bold, and a virgin so bright,\\nConversed as they sat on the green;\\nThey gazed on each other with tender delight:\\nAlonzo the Brave, was the name of the knight\\nThe maiden s, the Fair Imogene.\\nAnd, oh, said the youth, since to-morrow I go\\nTo fight in a far distant land,\\nYour tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow,\\nSome other will court you, and you Avill bestow\\nOn a wealthier suitor your hand!\\nOh! hush these suspicions, Fair Imogene said,\\nOffensive to love and to me;\\nFor, if you be living, or if you be dead,\\nI swear by the Virgin that none in your stead\\nShall husband of Imogene be.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0377.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "376 POETIC JEWELS\\nIf e er I by love or by wealth led aside,\\nForget my Alonzo the Brave,\\nGod grant that, to punish my falsehood and pride,\\nYour ghost at the marriage may sit by my side,\\nMay tax me with perjury, claim me as bride.\\nAnd bear me away to the grave!\\nTo Palestine hastened the hero so bold.\\nHis love she lamented him sore;\\nBut scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when, behold\\nA Baron, all covered with jewels and gold,\\nArrived at Fair Imogene s door.\\nHis treasures, his presents, his spacious domain,\\nSoon made her untrue to her vows;\\nHe dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain;\\nHe caught her affections, so light and so vain,\\nAnd carried her home as his spouse.\\nAnd now had the marriage been blest by the priest-,\\nThe revelry now was begun;\\nThe tables they groaned with the weight of the feast.\\nNor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased.\\nWhen the bell at the castle tolled one.\\nThen first with amazement Fair Imogene found\\nA stranger was placed by her side:\\nHis air was terrific; he uttered no sound\\nHe spoke not, he moved not, he looked not around\\nBut earnestly gazed on the bride.\\nHis vizor was closed, and gigantic his height.\\nHis armor was sable to view;\\nAll pleasure and laughter was hushed at his sight;\\nThe dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright\\nThe lights in the chamber burned blue!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0378.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 377\\nHis presence all bosoms appeared to dismay;\\nThe guests sat in silence and fear;\\nAt length spoke the bride while she trembled I pray,\\nSir knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,\\nAnd deign to partake of our cheer.\\nThe lady is silent the stranger complies\\nHis vizor he slowly unclosed;\\nOh, God what a sight met Fair Imogene s eyes!\\nWhat words can express her dismay and surprise\\nWhen a skeleton s head was exposed!\\nAll present then uttered a terrified shout,\\nAll turned with disgust from the scene;\\nThe worms they crept in, and the worms they crept out,\\nAnd sported his eyes and his temples about,\\nWhile the specter addressed Imogene:\\nBehold me, thou false one, behold me! he cried.\\nRemember Alonzo the Brave!\\nGod grants that, to punish thy falsehood and pride,\\nMy ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side;\\nShould tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride\\nAnd bear thee away to the grave!\\nThus saying, his arms round the lady he wound,\\nWhile loudly she shrieked in dismay;\\nThen sunk with his prey through the wide-yawning ground,\\nNor ever again was Fair Imogene found,\\nOr the specter that bore her away.\\nNot long lived the baron, and none since that time.\\nTo inhabit the castle presume;\\nFor chronicles tell that, by order sublime,\\nThere Imogene suffers the pain of her crime.\\nAnd mourns her deplorable doom.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0379.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "378 POETIC JEWELS\\nAt midnight, four tinies in each year, does her sprite.\\nWhen mortals in slumber are bound.\\nArrayed in her bridal apparel of white,\\nAppear in the hall with her skeleton knight,\\nAnd shriek as he whirls her around\\nWhile they drink out of skulls newly torn from the grave,\\nDancing round them the specters are seen;\\nTheir liquor is blood, and this horrible stave\\nThey howl: To the health of Alonzo the Brave,\\nAnd his consort, the Fair Imogene!\\nM. G. Lezvis.\\nSONG OF THE MISER.\\n^^LINK, clink!\\nThere s a ray of light through the window\\nchink,\\nThat comes to play with my gold, I think;\\nI must bar it out to-morrow,\\nril have no sun-rays counting my store:\\nThey come from a world that s hungry for more.\\nThat spieth my coffers and hateth me sore,\\nThat I know to my sorrow.\\nClink, clink!\\nHow the golden eagles glow on the brink\\nOf the yellow pyramid, built, I think.\\nFrom spoils of every people.\\nSay I frame me a miniature church the while,\\nMoidore and Sovereign will pave me the Aisle,-\\nDoubloons and Ducats will wall it in st) le.\\nAnd crowns run up to a steeple.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0380.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 379\\nClink, clink!\\nA beggar-girl stood on the parapet brink\\nOf the lonely bridge quite crazy, I think,\\nAnd I gazed on the moaning water.\\nShe asked for a farthing; I gave her a curse;\\nShe plunged and the city provided a hearse;\\nNo matter it might have been terribly worse;\\nTwas only a poor man s daughter.\\nClink, clink!\\nA delicate eyelid flashed me a wink,\\nYesterday close by the park, I think;\\nWhat widow was it, I wonder?\\nWho ll smile upon me, grim, ugly, and old;\\nIf the forks of the lightning were woven with gold\\nThey would lasso each flash with a veil s white fold.\\nDespite the following thunder.\\nClink, clink!\\nMy beautiful gold, thy beams I drink;\\nBrighter, more nectrous than wine, I think:\\nThy glint like stars of even.\\nI love thee better than sun-brown hair.\\nBetter than sick men June s warm air,\\nBetter than angels the penitent prayer.\\nBetter, aye, better than Heaven.\\nAnofiyjfious.\\n22", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0381.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "380 POETIC JEWELS\\nTHE HARP OF FIONBELL.\\nFeargus, called Fionbell, or The Sweet-Voiced, was one of the most\\ndistinguished bards of Ancient Erin. An ode of his is said to have pro-\\nduced the effect mentioned in the following verses.]\\n^ULL many triumphs hath music won, in cot-\\ntage, and bower, and hall,\\nSince David harped in the days of old, to quiet the\\nsoul of Saul;\\nThe evil spirit departed then, and the moody King was\\nwell;\\nAnd evil spirits were charmed to rest by the Harp of\\nFionbell!\\nWho shall revive thy magic spell,\\nO silent Harp of Fionbell?\\nLong time ago, when the ancient bards and wandering\\nminstrels sang.\\nWith lays of love and with martial strains their quivering\\nharp-strings rang:\\nThey soothed, or melted, or fired the soul, as the thrilling\\ncadence fell\\nThe victor s paean the hymn of praise the warrior s\\nparting knell.\\nBut mightier was thy magic spell,\\nO gentle Harp of Fionbell!\\nThe voice of music hath roused the brave, and kindled the\\nchampion s zeal;\\nThe voice of music hath softly lulled the sorrows it could\\nnot heal;", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0382.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 381\\nThe voice of music hath roused to life fierce passions and\\npurpose fell\\nOf revels wild, and of festal mirth, the spirit of song can\\ntell.\\nBut thine hath been a loftier spell,\\nO silent Harp of Fionbell\\nThe power of music is imaged forth by the fabled\\nOrpheus lyre\\nThe voice of music hath skill to quell the glittering ser-\\npent s ire\\nIt wakes an echo in human hearts; from the organ s grand-\\nest swell\\nTo tiny sighings of prisoned airs that lurk in an ocean shell.\\nBut holier was thy magic spell,\\nO gentle Harp of Fionbell\\nNot only nerving the hero s arm, or vaunting the van-\\nquished foe;\\nOr reaping laurels of smiles and tears, and conquests of\\njoy and woe;\\nNot only breathing the notes of love, but pleading for\\nwar to cease,\\nIn strain so dulcet that strife was stilled, and weapons\\nwere sheathed in peace!\\nSo rare so sweet thy magic spell,\\nLong silent Harp of Fionbell!\\nTwo hostile chiefs meet in armed array on the plains of\\nDroom-Choll-Coil,*\\nIn hot dispute to contest their claim of right to the battle-\\nspoil;\\nDroom-Choll-Coil, the Brow of a Hazel-Wood, was one of the\\nancient names of Dublin.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0383.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "382 POETIC JEWELS\\nAnd face to face with the marshaled foe, their valiant fol-\\nlowers stand:\\nWhat turns the wrath from the angry brow? the axe from\\nthe lifted hand?\\nOnly a song of magic spell!\\nHarped on the Harp of Fionbell!\\nThe silvery tones have calmed the strife the warrior\\nfeud is done\\nThe hostile chieftains are clasping hands, with a nobler\\nbattle won!\\nThe battle over the self ivitJihi, where deadliest foemen\\ndwell;\\nWith bloodshed stayed, and with friendship, sealed by the\\nHarp of Fionbell.\\nO to renew thy magic spell!\\nVictorious Harp of Fionbell!\\nWhere nozv would foemen forego their feuds, at the harp-\\ning of a bard?\\nHath poet-genius no magic left? or are hero s hearts\\nmore hard?\\nAlas! alas! that the minstrel s art should triumph like\\nthis no more!\\nAlas! that never such sweet-voiced bard should waken\\non Erin s shore,\\nTo work again thy mighty spell,\\nO glorious Harp of Fionbell.\\nH. E. Hunter.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0384.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 383\\nTHE GREEN GNOME.\\n^^^^^ING, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bell?\\nChime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and\\ndells!\\nRhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!\\nChime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!\\nAnd I gallop d, and I gallop d, on my palfry white as milk,\\nMy robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the\\nsilk;\\nMy hair was golden yellow, and it floated to my shoe.\\nMy eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of\\ndew;\\nMy palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent\\nWith the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I\\nwent;\\nAnd I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal\\nand play,\\nFainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away;\\nAnd beside a silver runnel, on a little heap of sand,\\nI saw the Green Gnome sitting, with his cheek upon his\\nhand;\\nThen he started up to see me, and he ran with cry and\\nbound.\\nAnd drew me from my palfrey white, and set me on the\\nground:\\nO crimson, crimson were his locks, his face was green to\\nsee,\\nBui he cried, O light-haired lassie, you are bound to\\nmarry me\\nI\\nHe clasped me round the middle small, and kissed me on\\nthe cheek.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0385.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "384 POETIC JEWELS\\nHe kissed me once, he kissed me twice I could not stir\\nor speak;\\nHe kissed me twice, he kissed me thrice but when he\\nkissed again,\\nI called aloud upon the name of him who died for n en!\\nRing, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!\\nChime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!\\nRhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!\\nChime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!\\nO faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray.\\nSo faintly, faintly, faintly, rang the bells afar away;\\nAnd as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can.\\nThe ugly green, green Gnome became a tall and comely\\nman!\\nHis hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were\\nblack as sloes,\\nHis tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose;\\nA pensive light from Fairyland still lingered on his cheek,\\nHis voice was like the running brook, when he began to\\nspeak:\\nO you have cast away the charm my step-dame put on\\nme.\\nSeven years I dwelt in Fairyland, and you have set me\\nfree\\nO I will mount thy palfrey white, and ride to kirk with\\nthee.\\nAnd by those little dewy eyes, we twain will wedded be!\\nBack we gallop d, never stopping, he before, and I behind.\\nAnd the autumn leaves were dropping, red and yellow, in\\nthe wind,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0386.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS\\n385\\nAnd the sun was shining clearer, and my heart was high\\nand proud,\\nAnd nearer, nearer, nearer, rang the kirk-bells sweet and\\nloud,\\nAnd we saw the kirk before us, as we trotted down the\\nfells.\\nAnd nearer, clearer, o er us, rang the welcome of the\\nbells!\\nRing, sing! ring, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!\\nChime, rhyme! chime, rhyme, through dales and dells!\\nRhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!\\nChime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and dells!\\nRobert Buchanaji.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0387.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "386 POETIC JEWELS\\nPOVERTIE S COUNSEL.\\nIS a bitter spring, and everything\\nPineth for a sunny hour,\\nThe bird on the tree, the honey-bee,\\nI And the early flower;\\nBut the winds blow, and the wintry snow\\nFalleth, shower on shower.\\nIn a lodging bare, on an old fir chair,\\nI sit by a gleamless hearth,\\nDreaming alway of some by-gone day\\nAnd its pleasant mirth;\\nAnd along with me, sitteth Povertie,\\nDespised of all the earth.\\nHours come and go, tides ebb and flow.\\nAnd flow and ebb again\\nBut it seemeth no chance or circumstance\\nOf time shall part us twain;\\nFast bound unto me, seemeth Povertie,\\nWith an everlasting chain.\\nIn the open street, old friends ne er greet\\nAs they were wont of yore,\\nBut hurry by, with averted eye,\\nThey can love me now no more,\\nFor, arm-in-arm, with me walketh Povertie,\\nAnd he scareth em by the score.\\nThere and here ever, he leaveth me never.\\nThough I ve prayed t might not be so.\\nAnd alack, I have sworn, and abused him sore,", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0388.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 387\\nVery oft that he might go;\\nBut he still sat there, nor seemed to care,\\nAnswering me ever No.\\nThough all men hate and upbraid the fate,\\nMakes them and me akin.\\nYet better, he said, lifting his head,\\nHave me thine house within,\\nMuch better have me, quoth Povertie,\\nThan either shame or sin.\\nTis a bitter spring, yet the birds will sing\\nOn the leafy boughs of each tree,\\nAnd flowers will blow, and green grass grow.\\nAnd sunshine lure forth the bee.\\nAnd fortune may smile on thee, meanwhile\\nShake hands, quoth Povertie.\\nW. S. Ridpath.\\nLANGLEY LANE.\\nA LOVE POEM.\\nN all the land, range up, range down.\\nIs there ever a place so pleasant and sweet,\\nAs Langley Lane in London town.\\nJust out of the bustle of square and street?\\nLittle white cottages all in a row,\\nGardens where bachelors buttons grow.\\nSwallows nests in roof and wall.\\nAnd up above the still blue sky\\nWhere the woolly white clouds go sailing by\\nI seem to be able to see it ail!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0389.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "388 POETIC JEWELS\\nFanny is sweet thirteen, and she\\nHas fine black ringlets and dark eyes clear,\\nAnd I am older by summers three\\nWhy should we hold one another so dear?\\nBecause she cannot utter a word,\\nNor hear the music of bee or bird,\\nThe water-cart s splash or the milkman s call!\\nBecctuse I have never seen the sky,\\nNor the little singers that hum and fly\\nYet know she is gazing upon them all!\\nFor the sun is shining, the swallows fly.\\nThe bees and the blue-flies murmur low.\\nAnd I hear the water-cart go by.\\nWith its cool splash-splash down the dusty row;\\nAnd the little one close at my side perceives\\nMine eyes upraised to the cottage eaves.\\nWhere birds are chirping in summer shine,\\nAnd I hear, though I cannot look, and she.\\nThough she cannot hear, can the singers see\\nAnd the little soft fingers flutter in mine!\\nHath not the dear little hand a tongue.\\nWhen it stirs on my palm for the love of me?\\nDo I not know she is pretty and young?\\nHath not my soul an eye to see?\\nTis pleasure to make one s bosom stir,\\nTo wonder how things appear to her,\\nThat I only hear as they pass around;\\nAnd as long as we sit in the music and light,\\nShe is happy to keep God s sight,\\nAnd /am happy to keep God s sound.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0390.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 389\\nFor now, in summer, I take my chair,\\nAnd sit outside in the sun, and hear\\nThe distant murmur of street and square.\\nAnd the swallows and sparrows chirping near;\\nAnd Fanny, who lives just over the way,\\nComes running many a time each day\\nWith her little hand s touch so warm and kind,\\nAnd I smile and talk, with the sun on my cheek,\\nAnd the little live hand seems to stir and speak\\nFor Fanny is dumb, and I am blind.\\nWhy, I know her face, though I am blind\\nI made it of music long ago:\\nStrange large eyes, and dark hair twined\\nRound the pensive light of a brow of snow;\\nAnd-when I sit by my little one.\\nAnd hold her hand and talk in the sun.\\nAnd hear the music that haunts the place,\\nI know she is raising her eyes to me.\\nAnd guessing how gentle my voice must be.\\nAnd seei7ig the music on my face.\\nThough, if ever the Lord should grant me a prayer\\n(I know the fancy is only vain),\\nI should pray; just once, when the weather is fair,\\nTo see little Fanny, and Langley Lane;\\nThough Fanny, perhaps, would pray to hear\\nThe voice of the friend that she holds so dear,\\nTlie song of the birds, the hum of the street\\nIt is better to be as we have been\\nEach keeping up something, unheard, unseen.\\nTo make God s heaven more strange and sweet!", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0391.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "390\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nAh! life is pleasant in Langley Lane!\\nThere is always something sweet to hear!\\nChirping of birds or patter of rain!\\nAnd Fanny, my little one, always near!\\nAnd though I am weakly and can t live long,\\nAnd Fanny my darling is far from strong.\\nAnd though we can never married be\\nWliat then? since we hold one another so dear,\\nFor the sake of the pleasure one cannot hear.\\nAnd the pleasure that only one can see?\\nRobert Biichaiian.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0392.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "HARK HOW THE SOLDIERS HOLLOA", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0393.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0394.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 393\\nTHE BATTLE OF PELUSIUM.\\nRM, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all come in;\\nKeep your ranks close, and now your honors win.\\n^Behold, from yonder hill the foe appears;\\nBows, bills, glaves, arrows, shields, and spears!\\nLike a dark wood he comes, or tempest pausing;\\nOh, view the wings of horse the meadows scouring.\\nThe vanguard marches bravely. Hark, the drums!\\nDub, dub!\\nThey meet, they meet, and now the battle comes:\\nSee how the arrows fly,\\nThat darken all the sky!\\nHark how the trumpets sound,\\nHark how the hills rebound.\\nTara, tar a, tara, tar a, tara\\nHark how the horses charge! in, boys, boys, in!\\nThe battle totters; now the wounds begin:\\nOh, how they cry!\\nOh, how they die!\\nRoom for the valiant Memnon, armed with thunder!\\nSee how he breaks the ranks astinder!\\nThey fly! they fly! Eumenes has the chase,\\nAnd brave Polybius makes good his place.\\nTo the plains, to the woods.\\nTo the rocks, to the floods.\\nThey fly for succor: Follow, follow, follow!\\nHark how the soldiers holloa! Hey, Hey!\\nBrave Diodes is dead.\\nAnd all his soldiers fled;\\nThe battle s won, and lost.\\nThat many a life hath cost.\\nJohn Fletcher.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0395.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "394\\nPOETIC JEWELS\\nOFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.\\nSCOTCH AIR.\\nFT, ill the stilly night,\\nEre Slumber s chain has bound me,\\nFond Memory brings the light\\nOf other days around me;\\nThe smiles, the tears,\\nOf boyhood s years,\\nThe words of love then spoken;\\nThe eyes that shone.\\nNow dimm d and gone,\\nThe cheerful hearts now broken!\\nThus, in the stilly night,\\nEre Slumber s chain hath bound me.\\nSad Memory brings the light\\nOf other days around me.\\nWhen I remember all\\nThe friends, so link d together,\\nI ve seen around me fall.\\nLike leaves in wintry weather;\\nI feel like one\\nWho treads alone\\nSome banquet-hall deserted,\\nWhose lights are fled.\\nWhose garlands dead,\\nAnd all but he departed!\\nThus, in the stilly night.\\nEre Slumber s chain has bound me,\\nSad Memory brings the light\\nOf other days around me.\\nMoore.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0396.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "POETIC JEWELS 395\\nTHOSE EVENING BELLS.\\nAIR THE BELLS OF ST. PETERSBURG.\\nHOSE evening bells! those evening bells!\\nHow many a tale their music tells,\\nf youth, and home, and that sweet time.\\nWhen last I heard their soothing chime.\\nThose joyous hours are pass d away;\\nAnd many a heart, that then was gay,\\nWithin the tomb now darkly dwells,\\nAnd hears no more those evening bells.\\nAnd so twill be when I am gone;\\nThat tuneful peal will still ring on,\\nWhile other bards shall walk these dells.\\nAnd sing your praise, sweet evening bells.\\nMoore.\\nA CANADIAN BOAT SONG.\\nWRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE.\\nEt lemigem cantos hortatur.\\nQiiintilian.\\nAINTLY as tolls the evening chime,\\nOur voices keep tune and our oars keep time,\\nSoon as the woods on shore look dim,\\nWe ll sing at St. Ann s our parting hymn.\\nRow, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,\\nThe Rapids are near and the daylight s past.\\nWhy should we yet our sail unfurl?\\nThere is not a breath the blue wave to curl;\\nBut, when the wind blows off the shore,\\nOh! sweetly we ll rest our weary oar.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0397.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "396 POETIC JEWELS\\nBlow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,\\nThe Rapids are near and the daylight s past.\\nUtawas tide! this trembling moon\\nShall see us float over thy surges soon.\\nSaint of this green isle! hear our prayers,\\nOh, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs.\\nBlow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,\\nThe Rapids are near and the daylight s past,\\n3foore.\\nTHE IMMORTAL PANSIES.\\n[At an elegant lunch given by Mrs. Cleveland at the White House, in honor\\nof Miss Hastings, the President s niece, sixty of the leading young ladies of\\nWashington were present. At each plate was a corsage bouquet of pansies in\\nall shades, from the most delicate \\\\avender to the richest royal purple, interspersed\\nwith those of bright gold. The viands were of the richest, but no wine was\\noffered, as Mrs. Cleveland does not drink it, nor will she offer it to her guests.]\\nBEAUTIFUL pansies, in royal robes\\nOf richest purple and brightest gold!\\nYou could not smile on a lovelier scene,\\nOr grace the court of a fairer queen.\\nThan when you greeted this winsome band,\\nAnd by your fragrance the welcome told\\nTold to each youthful guest, who joyed to come\\nTo her gracious hostess honored home.\\nNo presence or breath of wine was there\\nTo drown with its strength your rare perfume;\\nBut fresh and pure from the hand which gives\\nThe flowers, and their mission to bless our lives,\\nYour sweetness in praises was wafted wide,\\nAnd to you is given immortal bloom.\\nBut the fairest flower of that radiant scene\\nWas our thoughtful pansy, our nation s queen.\\nMrs. Marietta S. Case.", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0398.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0399.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "on 29 I snn\\nDeacidified using the Bookkeeper process.\\nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide\\nTreatment Date: Jan. 2009\\nPreservationTechnologies\\nA WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION\\n111 Thomson Park Drive\\nCranberry Township, PA 16066\\n(724)779-2111", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0400.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0401.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "ft tiiKU n tit.\\nIP\\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n012 609 199\\n1^\\niiii\\n[1\\n.1\\nI\\n1\\nt", "height": "2907", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "poeticjewelsathe00roee_0402.jp2"}}