CHAPTER XIV.—URANUS.

Awake, Time!If ever thou sleepest. Draw out thy car once more,And cleave the outer realms of space, beyond the shoreOf noble Jupiter. Out fearlessly! away!Trusting a power that sleepeth not night nor day.Now receding from the greatest, let’s seek the strangestOf the planets on a line remote, where rangestIn untold splendor in an orbit round the sunOf amazing distance, luminous, stately Saturn.But we tremble, and we shrink with an awesome dread,At the yawning distance underneath and o’erhead!Right and left forever the soul may madly soar,Seeking for a limit till lost for evermore!Look up! look up! weak and unhappy doubting soul;Let the promises of heaven thy acts control;Then calmly away, where ’tis neither night nor day,Over the tremulous seas, by the spectral rayOf stars and systems scintillating down the voids;Back o’er the desolate sea of the asteroids,Floating outward still, and with mind grown more serene,Though poised o’er a yawning chasm lying betweenJupiter and Saturn, five hundred million miles! a spanTo chill the bravest, and the fearless to unman.But we win our weird way, and intercept againA peerless planet, with eight attendants in train.Noble, mysterious Saturn!We have no sight to penetrate thy outward glory—None but the Infinite may tell thy story.We may know thee when the soul casts off its clog of clayAnd sees with spirit eyes when the mist clears away.By persistence we’re nearing thee, and pierce the lightOf thy mighty outward glowing rings, and the sight,Together with thy brilliant coterie of moons by night,Puts the rivalry of sister planets all to flight.What a sphere of luminous glory circles thee,Floating ever in a tremulous crystal sea!And were more loving hands extended unto theeAt creation’s dawn? In illumined beauty freeAnd perfect, subject to gloom and shadow never?Happy thought! “A thing of beauty, a joy forever.”Who could gaze unmoved upon thy lovely faceAnd not desire grander powers to minutely traceThy inner life, which surely is noble and good?Peerless, mysterious orb! of a sisterhoodOf grand planets, for thee our song shall ever swell.Peerless, mysterious orb! farewell! farewell!

Look up! look up! weak and unhappy doubting soul;Let the promises of heaven thy acts control;Then calmly away, where ’tis neither night nor day,Over the tremulous seas, by the spectral rayOf stars and systems scintillating down the voids;Back o’er the desolate sea of the asteroids,Floating outward still, and with mind grown more serene,Though poised o’er a yawning chasm lying betweenJupiter and Saturn, five hundred million miles! a spanTo chill the bravest, and the fearless to unman.But we win our weird way, and intercept againA peerless planet, with eight attendants in train.

Noble, mysterious Saturn!We have no sight to penetrate thy outward glory—None but the Infinite may tell thy story.We may know thee when the soul casts off its clog of clayAnd sees with spirit eyes when the mist clears away.

By persistence we’re nearing thee, and pierce the lightOf thy mighty outward glowing rings, and the sight,Together with thy brilliant coterie of moons by night,Puts the rivalry of sister planets all to flight.What a sphere of luminous glory circles thee,Floating ever in a tremulous crystal sea!And were more loving hands extended unto theeAt creation’s dawn? In illumined beauty freeAnd perfect, subject to gloom and shadow never?Happy thought! “A thing of beauty, a joy forever.”Who could gaze unmoved upon thy lovely faceAnd not desire grander powers to minutely traceThy inner life, which surely is noble and good?Peerless, mysterious orb! of a sisterhoodOf grand planets, for thee our song shall ever swell.Peerless, mysterious orb! farewell! farewell!

Get our bearings, Time!Ballast well, and trim thy wondrous aerial carFor another dread abyss, lying there afarOutward, bordering Uranus’s remote, lonely shore—A shore of frightful silence, brooding ever o’erAppalling solitudes, o’er which e’en God may weep!And as we launch away vague horrors o’er us creep;But like many a threat’ning danger bravely faced,The soul is calmed if it by right be braced.And thus we reason as we dare the dismal deeps,And a sense of kindest protection o’er us creeps.And thus we win our way unerringly again,And these tragic recesses yawn at us in vain;And out from the dim, weird spaces, with stately tread,Moving in majestic order, with uplifted head,Appears stately Uranus!We salute thee on our far journey outward bound,And invade thy orbit—an elliptic way profound;But though thy great moons in all thy pride are beaming,And the tremulous stars in vague distance dreaming,We can but view thee vaguely—thy shades sternly hideThy cold, averted face, and mien of lofty pride.Perhaps a race more haughty, more selfish than our own,In arrogated power is fixed on this far zone.Strange that the system’s otherwise immutable lawsRevolve thy moons from east to west—wherefore the cause?Has some fierce convulsion disturbed thy outward form,O’erturning thy satellites in a planetary storm?Because thou art so remote we do not know thee well,And untold millions may on thy surface dwell.We leave thee in thy vast area of solitude,Never again on thy presence to intrude.And the deep, shoreless, interminable oceanOf gloom closes round thy evanishing motion!And I shrink on the verge of an appalling seaOf chaotic abysses and wastes before me!But it passes awayAs for strength and deliverance we fervently pray;And faith and full trust have returned unto meOn the verge of that dreary and desolate sea.Look not beneath us; look up! aye, up and away!And let not these weird terrors affright or dismay.Like a meteor we glide in the sure car of Time,Peering after the secrets that still are divine.

Because thou art so remote we do not know thee well,And untold millions may on thy surface dwell.We leave thee in thy vast area of solitude,Never again on thy presence to intrude.And the deep, shoreless, interminable oceanOf gloom closes round thy evanishing motion!And I shrink on the verge of an appalling seaOf chaotic abysses and wastes before me!

But it passes awayAs for strength and deliverance we fervently pray;And faith and full trust have returned unto meOn the verge of that dreary and desolate sea.Look not beneath us; look up! aye, up and away!And let not these weird terrors affright or dismay.Like a meteor we glide in the sure car of Time,Peering after the secrets that still are divine.

Nowwe seek a lone station far outward, alone,On the confines bordering on the vast unknown;An elliptical way of an orb that’s sublime—The sentinel of our system, on the outward line.Like a flash from the sun we are piercing our way,But the light from the stars flickers out in the grayDesolation of oceans eternally stilled,Like the seas at the poles by Arctic night chilled.And phantasmagoria bewilderingly playsThrough the weird, sunless glens and the pale chilly haze,Where spectres derisively grin through the gloom,Beckoning us downward as to a dread doom!But the victory is ours—before us they flee—And we rise from the gloom of that desolate sea;And the light from the vast orb we seek meets our gaze,Translucently illumined by a pale, cold blaze;And it flares up before us with one pallid moon—A stern, lonely wanderer—majestic Neptune!Strange Neptune!Pacing thy lone rounds through the evanishing years,From creation’s wonderful dawn guarding our frontiers:Peering into the distance and watching the deepOf horror and dangers deadly that never sleepCreep stealthily from the impenetrable sweepOf frightful desolation, and there fierce awaitsTo hurl their fell attack on our far outward gates.But an alert sentinel, ever on his rounds,Is faithfully guarding our remote outer bounds.And we draw up in the shadow of thy stern form,Grown gray in fronting the cruel battle and storm—Draw up beside thee, weary, strange, and travelworn,Half bewildered, o’erwhelmed, and anxiously tornBy conflicting emotions. So grim and forlornAre the desolate scenes of a weird, spectred form.Here on the measureless verge of infinitudeWe shrink from the indescribable solitudeThat hath lain in those bottomless gulfs of dread doom—The black annihilation of a cold phantom tomb.Ah, how we shrink from dangers vague, undefined!The unreal, more than the real, disturbs the finite mind.O All-wise Father! give us faith to trust in Thee,All fearless to sail over life’s troubled sea.

But the victory is ours—before us they flee—And we rise from the gloom of that desolate sea;And the light from the vast orb we seek meets our gaze,Translucently illumined by a pale, cold blaze;And it flares up before us with one pallid moon—A stern, lonely wanderer—majestic Neptune!

Strange Neptune!Pacing thy lone rounds through the evanishing years,From creation’s wonderful dawn guarding our frontiers:Peering into the distance and watching the deepOf horror and dangers deadly that never sleepCreep stealthily from the impenetrable sweepOf frightful desolation, and there fierce awaitsTo hurl their fell attack on our far outward gates.But an alert sentinel, ever on his rounds,Is faithfully guarding our remote outer bounds.

And we draw up in the shadow of thy stern form,Grown gray in fronting the cruel battle and storm—Draw up beside thee, weary, strange, and travelworn,Half bewildered, o’erwhelmed, and anxiously tornBy conflicting emotions. So grim and forlornAre the desolate scenes of a weird, spectred form.Here on the measureless verge of infinitudeWe shrink from the indescribable solitudeThat hath lain in those bottomless gulfs of dread doom—The black annihilation of a cold phantom tomb.Ah, how we shrink from dangers vague, undefined!The unreal, more than the real, disturbs the finite mind.O All-wise Father! give us faith to trust in Thee,All fearless to sail over life’s troubled sea.

Ho, comrade Time! Thy car!Let’s toward the constellations glimmering afar!Take Pegasus for thy guide; mount upward, away!Through the glory of the spheres fairer than the day.Ah! the thrilling ecstasy of this transcendent view,Surpassing light and shading, we are passing through.Upward and upward, higher, higher, we aspireTo reach the bright’ning stars, aglow with heavenly fire.Ah! we leave those horrid, grinning chasms far behind,And they shall no more affright our frail, trusting mind.Let the soul, that is not clay, lead the vivid way,Thrilled by the silent song the constellations play!What a panoramic splendor unveils before us!Cygnus, Perseus, Lyra, Orion, and Capricornus;Taurus, Virgo, Andromeda, and Tarandus—A few clusters named of glowing, brilliant gemsFrom creation’s vast wealth of priceless diadems.Ha! what lurid light is this glaring from the left—Up over the rim of creation? Strangely cleftIs the gloom and shadow menacingly lurking there;Startlingly it increaseth in volume everywhere.Is’t the conflagration of a great world afar?’Tis the lumination of a wandering star;And it mounts toward the zenith with a bright trainOf curved, transparent light, gliding all amain,Upward, passing Aldebaran and Pleiades,Vanishing, perhaps fore’er, in unpenetrated seas.Now we have won the spheres of the far starry realms,And their gleaming glory and vastness overwhelms.All transcendent are those huge flaming, central suns,And through vast areas their intense splendor runs.And these centres are surrounded by stately trainsOf worlds, thrown out on those purple, measureless plains,And with attendant satellites escorted through the voids:Interspersing lone spaces are untold asteroids.And astonishment and awe falls upon our soulAs twice ten thousand mighty planets onward roll:The lesser and the great—innumerable, untold—The near and the remote, their glowing orbs unfold.But beyond is more—the dim silence of a shore?A myth? an eternal mystery? nothing more?But beyond is surely something more. O God, where?Our finite mind is stricken dumb with despair.For those weird and nebulous systems so remote,In unsearchable abysses they dimly float;And their faint and tremulous light to us is blownLike faint flickering wands, out from the dread unknown.How they glimmer in the dense deepness far away,Those scintillescent starlets in countless array!Is Centauri, Cigni, beyond our upward flight?Lyra, Sirius, and Arcturus intensely bright?So far we may not venture in our magic car,To mount those glitt’ring heights, deep, deadly, and afar.Art in a reverie, Time?Look up! view the transcendent glory of the scene!Calmly I wait thee, soothed in spirit, and serene.Look up! and view the wonders of infinitude,Where only thou and I, perhaps, have dared intrude.All in grand harmony these systems move along,Singing to their Maker a praise of silent song;And a burning thought comes to us, and reason seesUnity controlling these systems, voids, and seasTo us unknown, vast, lonely, and undefined;But still as one great whole in unity combinedThey swing round an infinite, all-powerful centre,And ecstasy of soul comes to us, and doth enterOur being the thought (it may be divinely given)That that vast centre, supreme and fair, is heaven—The centre of Divine government, holy and great,Keeping ceaseless guard o’er creation’s wide estate.Oh, to reach that glowing centre of eternal life,Blessed and liberated from sin, and death, and strife!Never again to suffer loss and grievous pain,Or mourn in loneliness the years that seem’d in vain.

What a panoramic splendor unveils before us!Cygnus, Perseus, Lyra, Orion, and Capricornus;Taurus, Virgo, Andromeda, and Tarandus—A few clusters named of glowing, brilliant gemsFrom creation’s vast wealth of priceless diadems.

Ha! what lurid light is this glaring from the left—Up over the rim of creation? Strangely cleftIs the gloom and shadow menacingly lurking there;Startlingly it increaseth in volume everywhere.Is’t the conflagration of a great world afar?’Tis the lumination of a wandering star;And it mounts toward the zenith with a bright trainOf curved, transparent light, gliding all amain,Upward, passing Aldebaran and Pleiades,Vanishing, perhaps fore’er, in unpenetrated seas.

Now we have won the spheres of the far starry realms,And their gleaming glory and vastness overwhelms.All transcendent are those huge flaming, central suns,And through vast areas their intense splendor runs.And these centres are surrounded by stately trainsOf worlds, thrown out on those purple, measureless plains,And with attendant satellites escorted through the voids:Interspersing lone spaces are untold asteroids.

And astonishment and awe falls upon our soulAs twice ten thousand mighty planets onward roll:The lesser and the great—innumerable, untold—The near and the remote, their glowing orbs unfold.But beyond is more—the dim silence of a shore?A myth? an eternal mystery? nothing more?But beyond is surely something more. O God, where?Our finite mind is stricken dumb with despair.

For those weird and nebulous systems so remote,In unsearchable abysses they dimly float;And their faint and tremulous light to us is blownLike faint flickering wands, out from the dread unknown.How they glimmer in the dense deepness far away,Those scintillescent starlets in countless array!Is Centauri, Cigni, beyond our upward flight?Lyra, Sirius, and Arcturus intensely bright?So far we may not venture in our magic car,To mount those glitt’ring heights, deep, deadly, and afar.

Art in a reverie, Time?Look up! view the transcendent glory of the scene!Calmly I wait thee, soothed in spirit, and serene.Look up! and view the wonders of infinitude,Where only thou and I, perhaps, have dared intrude.All in grand harmony these systems move along,Singing to their Maker a praise of silent song;And a burning thought comes to us, and reason seesUnity controlling these systems, voids, and seasTo us unknown, vast, lonely, and undefined;But still as one great whole in unity combinedThey swing round an infinite, all-powerful centre,And ecstasy of soul comes to us, and doth enterOur being the thought (it may be divinely given)That that vast centre, supreme and fair, is heaven—The centre of Divine government, holy and great,Keeping ceaseless guard o’er creation’s wide estate.

Oh, to reach that glowing centre of eternal life,Blessed and liberated from sin, and death, and strife!Never again to suffer loss and grievous pain,Or mourn in loneliness the years that seem’d in vain.

Upward, Time!Outward and upward in desperate flight once more,Let’s peer into a region we dare not, cannot cross o’er.Ah! the light is fading fast on our right and rear,And the deep’ning pallid gloom fills our minds with fear;Still upward those nebulous regions float awayInto eternal mystery, solemn, grim, and gray!Hold, Time!Stay, in mercy stay the dread rushing of thy car;For on our front and left, deep, deadly and afar,Rise walls of appalling blackness that grimly barThe way, and no faint twinkle of flickering starLights up the impenetrable horror of gloom,Chilling the very soul, like an impending doom.Is this the lone region of death and fell despair?And is hell with all its fury lurking there?Do Satan and Apollyon roam those deadly deeps,Gloating o’er the suffering of the damned that ne’er sleeps?Was’t there the rebellious hosts of heaven found their doom,To shriek in nameless torture in so dread a tomb?Hist! hist! did ye hear it? that shuddering rollOf frenzied anguish, creeping up from damnation’s goal?O relentless Time! Let’s flee away from this dread sphere;Surely death and annihilation wait us here!With the help of heaven let us retreat! away,Or we’re lost! Loose thy car on our returning way!Get thy bearings, and, like a swift heavenly rayOf light, stream downward by the spaces and the voids,Like a meteor by the planets and asteroids.Ah, this fearful sense of falling brings a pallOf impending danger! yet ecstasy withalComes to us in this thrilling, evanishing fall,And up the starlit space I hear the faint, far callOf heavenly choirs to the legions of the blest.All worn in mind the spirit sinks to peaceful rest,And dreams of home come to me where all life is free;The years that knew no care return again to me.But Time, that never sleeps nor rests, wakes me once more;And we’re descending still, and near our pale moon’s shore.It seems a fitting space for so fair a silver queen,Floating in luminous splendor, smiling and serene.

Hold, Time!Stay, in mercy stay the dread rushing of thy car;For on our front and left, deep, deadly and afar,Rise walls of appalling blackness that grimly barThe way, and no faint twinkle of flickering starLights up the impenetrable horror of gloom,Chilling the very soul, like an impending doom.

Is this the lone region of death and fell despair?And is hell with all its fury lurking there?Do Satan and Apollyon roam those deadly deeps,Gloating o’er the suffering of the damned that ne’er sleeps?Was’t there the rebellious hosts of heaven found their doom,To shriek in nameless torture in so dread a tomb?

Hist! hist! did ye hear it? that shuddering rollOf frenzied anguish, creeping up from damnation’s goal?

O relentless Time! Let’s flee away from this dread sphere;Surely death and annihilation wait us here!With the help of heaven let us retreat! away,Or we’re lost! Loose thy car on our returning way!Get thy bearings, and, like a swift heavenly rayOf light, stream downward by the spaces and the voids,Like a meteor by the planets and asteroids.

Ah, this fearful sense of falling brings a pallOf impending danger! yet ecstasy withalComes to us in this thrilling, evanishing fall,And up the starlit space I hear the faint, far callOf heavenly choirs to the legions of the blest.All worn in mind the spirit sinks to peaceful rest,And dreams of home come to me where all life is free;The years that knew no care return again to me.But Time, that never sleeps nor rests, wakes me once more;And we’re descending still, and near our pale moon’s shore.It seems a fitting space for so fair a silver queen,Floating in luminous splendor, smiling and serene.

Ho! Comrade, our planet!Behold thou the glorious and inspiring sight,Illumined thus in the solar orb’s grand light!And how his mighty seas and oceans gleam and glow,And the summits of his mountains crowned with snow;His rivers and his streams, like threads of silver gleam;His hills and lovely valleys are fair as poet’s dreams.And his undulating plains are rife with golden wainsOf summer’s gladness, that in peace and sunshine reigns.But the night hath closed around us fair and sweet;Our world in hazy, rosy dreaming’s at our feet.A scintillating glory illuminates the sky,By star worlds glowing in the firmament on high.Suddenly, from the shadowy splendor of night,Bursts a shower of meteors in phosphorescent light;And darting from the deep abysses far away,They illuminate our pathway as bright as day—Fitting escort to our aerial journey nearly o’er.Lone deeps and starry oceans, adieu, for evermore!Gently, Time!Let thy car settle slowly to the earth again.Say, has not our far quest for knowledge been in vain?We sought the mighty planets, systems, voids that chill,But the mystery of creation ’s a mystery still.But with enlarged ideas we seek the solid ground,And leave to solve the problem wisdom more profound.Ah! at last’Tis done! we alight safely from the car of Time,And we give thanks for the protecting Hand Divine.Welcome,terra firma! Mother Earth, we welcome thee,Our terrestrial home. We hail! we hail and bless thee!And now, comrade Time, temporarily adieu!Leave me and go thy way until my hour is due.I’ve mark’d thee well, thou scourge, and thy cold looks of scorn;Thou hast no sympathy for man’s lot all forlorn.I saw thy derisive smile when dangers round us fell;And I suffered in doubt and fear, and knew wellOf thy indifference as to what became of meIn life, in death, and even in eternity!Hast thou not e’er since thy repellent course beganBeen the dread foe of nations and the fate of man?In vain the pleading prayer to stay thy ruthless handFor a moment longer of life at thy command:A mother for her son—a child ’tis hard to spare—And poverty and wrong aboundeth everywhere.Oh, the red fatal fields thy cruel feet have trod,And the millions of ghastly slain beneath the sod,And the graves of nations thy savage hands have made,And the tomb of friendship, and hope by thee betrayed!What is the fate of nations, man’s calamity, to thee?From vague dread and uncertainty none, none is free.Thy mandates mar all life, driving man’s joys away;The shadow of thy wing appals the fairest day.

But the night hath closed around us fair and sweet;Our world in hazy, rosy dreaming’s at our feet.A scintillating glory illuminates the sky,By star worlds glowing in the firmament on high.Suddenly, from the shadowy splendor of night,Bursts a shower of meteors in phosphorescent light;And darting from the deep abysses far away,They illuminate our pathway as bright as day—Fitting escort to our aerial journey nearly o’er.Lone deeps and starry oceans, adieu, for evermore!

Gently, Time!Let thy car settle slowly to the earth again.Say, has not our far quest for knowledge been in vain?We sought the mighty planets, systems, voids that chill,But the mystery of creation ’s a mystery still.But with enlarged ideas we seek the solid ground,And leave to solve the problem wisdom more profound.

Ah! at last’Tis done! we alight safely from the car of Time,And we give thanks for the protecting Hand Divine.Welcome,terra firma! Mother Earth, we welcome thee,Our terrestrial home. We hail! we hail and bless thee!And now, comrade Time, temporarily adieu!Leave me and go thy way until my hour is due.I’ve mark’d thee well, thou scourge, and thy cold looks of scorn;Thou hast no sympathy for man’s lot all forlorn.I saw thy derisive smile when dangers round us fell;And I suffered in doubt and fear, and knew wellOf thy indifference as to what became of meIn life, in death, and even in eternity!

Hast thou not e’er since thy repellent course beganBeen the dread foe of nations and the fate of man?In vain the pleading prayer to stay thy ruthless handFor a moment longer of life at thy command:A mother for her son—a child ’tis hard to spare—And poverty and wrong aboundeth everywhere.Oh, the red fatal fields thy cruel feet have trod,And the millions of ghastly slain beneath the sod,And the graves of nations thy savage hands have made,And the tomb of friendship, and hope by thee betrayed!What is the fate of nations, man’s calamity, to thee?From vague dread and uncertainty none, none is free.Thy mandates mar all life, driving man’s joys away;The shadow of thy wing appals the fairest day.

Inexorable and insatiate Time!Thou, too, shalt die, and dread annihilation meet!The soul shall happier be when thy ruin ’s complete.Listen, then, thou scourge! “And the angel which I sawStand upon the sea, and upon the earth, lifted up his handAnd sware by Him that liveth for ever and everThat time should be no longer.” Never, no, never,In the night of eternity shall thy face be seen;Thou shalt not break in to mar existence more serene.In the deeps of outer darkness shall be thy doom,In the desolate voids of black, eternal gloom.Farewell, then, Time!By the ruin of the dead centuries, farewell!By the ensanguined fields of millions slain, farewell!By the countless tears of broken hearts, farewell!By the mother’s agonizing prayer, farewell!By the children’s want and orphan’s cry, farewell!By the repentant sinner’s groans and tears, farewell!By the sick and weary wanderers, farewell!By the tortured, dreary lives of slaves, farewell!By the Saviour’s persecuted life, farewell!By His agony and death thou sawest, farewell!Aye, thy cruel flight shall at last reach death’s shore,And the soul shall rejoice when thy stern reign is o’er.

Farewell, then, Time!By the ruin of the dead centuries, farewell!By the ensanguined fields of millions slain, farewell!By the countless tears of broken hearts, farewell!By the mother’s agonizing prayer, farewell!By the children’s want and orphan’s cry, farewell!By the repentant sinner’s groans and tears, farewell!By the sick and weary wanderers, farewell!By the tortured, dreary lives of slaves, farewell!By the Saviour’s persecuted life, farewell!By His agony and death thou sawest, farewell!Aye, thy cruel flight shall at last reach death’s shore,And the soul shall rejoice when thy stern reign is o’er.

O Summer! thy regal splendorHath borne the spring-time away;Thy proud and passionate wooingHath won thee a bride to-day.Her sweet smiles and tears and sunshine,Her glory of flowers and streamsAre gone, and alone I ponderO’er vain, delusive dreams.Her beautiful, tender presenceIs lost in thy eager embrace;Thou kissest the dewy fragranceFrom her lovely, lovely face.And I, who was near unto her,Have lost my all to-day—The chill of the grave is on me,My sky is cold and gray.I stand without the cold portals,And through my frozen tearsI mark the bliss that e’er crowns you.My own poor broken yearsLie dark in a land that neverWill bloom with fruit or flowers;Chill is the bleak wind that sweepethMy desolate, haunted bowers.And thou, with thy priceless treasures,In the land of love and song,Amid full voluptuous pleasures,Thy years glide proudly on.Alone, with my vast surroundings,Shunned is my weird abode;An outcast, with but the bitter;Forsaken by all—but God.

Her beautiful, tender presenceIs lost in thy eager embrace;Thou kissest the dewy fragranceFrom her lovely, lovely face.And I, who was near unto her,Have lost my all to-day—The chill of the grave is on me,My sky is cold and gray.

I stand without the cold portals,And through my frozen tearsI mark the bliss that e’er crowns you.My own poor broken yearsLie dark in a land that neverWill bloom with fruit or flowers;Chill is the bleak wind that sweepethMy desolate, haunted bowers.

And thou, with thy priceless treasures,In the land of love and song,Amid full voluptuous pleasures,Thy years glide proudly on.

Alone, with my vast surroundings,Shunned is my weird abode;An outcast, with but the bitter;Forsaken by all—but God.

Oldand feeble, bowed and weary,Trembling near the dreaded stream;Night approacheth, and the sunsetCasts a last expiring beamOn the silver-headed wandererWaiting by the turbid tide,List’ning for the phantom boatmanO’er the Lethean waters wide.Yet, amid the gathering darkness,And the chill of coming night,He croons a song that reaches heaven,E’en in trusting and delight.And he seems to catch a murmur,Wafted from the other shore,Of sweet-voiced friends that are awaitingWhere the night comes nevermore.Poor old grandsire, patient ever,Thou hast known neglect and care,And hast felt the dreary heartache,Ingratitude and dark despair.But thou ’st ever been upliftedAnd sustained by One who knewAll the sorrow man is heir to,And to man’s relief that flew.Oh, ye careless and forgetful!For your own and father’s sake,Cheer his feeble, trembling footsteps;Do not let his old heart break.Take his withered hand and bless him,He hath given e’en life for you;He will soon glide o’er the river;God grant in peace his last adieu.

Yet, amid the gathering darkness,And the chill of coming night,He croons a song that reaches heaven,E’en in trusting and delight.And he seems to catch a murmur,Wafted from the other shore,Of sweet-voiced friends that are awaitingWhere the night comes nevermore.

Poor old grandsire, patient ever,Thou hast known neglect and care,And hast felt the dreary heartache,Ingratitude and dark despair.But thou ’st ever been upliftedAnd sustained by One who knewAll the sorrow man is heir to,And to man’s relief that flew.

Oh, ye careless and forgetful!For your own and father’s sake,Cheer his feeble, trembling footsteps;Do not let his old heart break.Take his withered hand and bless him,He hath given e’en life for you;He will soon glide o’er the river;God grant in peace his last adieu.

Whyshould our tears fall down?And why should the heart sink low?And why should our courage failWhen adversity’s chill winds blow?Bow not thy head, my brother,Though slander’s poisonous dart,Hurled by an assassin hand,Find lodgment in thy heart.And though they strew thy pathwayWith thorns that wound thy feet,Press bravely on thy journey,Dare thy proud foes to meet.Why should we grieve so, and mourn,When old friends pass us byWith cold and averted face,And we heave the weary sigh?Still move on, though sore wounded;Fight thou sternly for the goal;Heed not thy vile traducers;Be firm, thou, and brave of soul.Aye, still move steadily on,Though all the world should forsake;Though you sink beneath your load,And the heart at last should break.Heed not the stony glances,Nor the cold, sarcastic tone;Press on through storm and darkness,Though you stand on the hills alone.Still fight onward and upward,There are mountains still to climb,And heights to win, my brother,That in grandeur are sublime.Should you fall by the wayside,And never reach the goal,’Tis brave to die ’mid the struggle,Displaying a hero’s soul.And as you near the sunsetProud peace you may gain at last;When the skies are aflame with gloryYou may rest from the weary past.

And though they strew thy pathwayWith thorns that wound thy feet,Press bravely on thy journey,Dare thy proud foes to meet.Why should we grieve so, and mourn,When old friends pass us byWith cold and averted face,And we heave the weary sigh?

Still move on, though sore wounded;Fight thou sternly for the goal;Heed not thy vile traducers;Be firm, thou, and brave of soul.Aye, still move steadily on,Though all the world should forsake;Though you sink beneath your load,And the heart at last should break.

Heed not the stony glances,Nor the cold, sarcastic tone;Press on through storm and darkness,Though you stand on the hills alone.Still fight onward and upward,There are mountains still to climb,And heights to win, my brother,That in grandeur are sublime.

Should you fall by the wayside,And never reach the goal,’Tis brave to die ’mid the struggle,Displaying a hero’s soul.And as you near the sunsetProud peace you may gain at last;When the skies are aflame with gloryYou may rest from the weary past.

Afteryears of feverish wandering,Long years of loss and pain,It comes like the tenderest wooing,The memory of Fullmer’s Lane.There was a winding way through the forestThat I lovingly recall again—A wild wealth of nature’s lovelinessLeading onward to Fullmer’s Lane.And how often, O heart! how oftenIn the bright years that have flown away,When all life was a sunny gladness,A full song of the summer day,We went with a light-bounding footstep,At morn or the calm afternoon,Along the way so sweet and so fair,Wreathed o’er by a billow of bloom.There was a wealth of song from the glades,And by upland and shadowed hill;By lonely tarn and the winding stream,And the tiniest silver rill.The robin, bluebird, and bobolink,And the sweet redbird soft and low;The quail, with its festive shout “Bob White,”Broke in on the rhythmic flow.And we burst from the shadowy woodOverlooking the meadowy plain,And gained the home by the pebbly streamBordering on Fullmer’s Lane.Dear friends awaited our eager feetIn that rural home so dear;Alight with love and the jewel content,And the essence of right good cheer.And we quaffed from the delicious springBubbling up from the dark ravine;And played on the banks, sloping away,And bathed in the running stream.We chased the squirrel from tree to tree,And joined in the bobolink’s songThat rose from the meadows joyouslyAnd gaily followed along.We saw the sun in the west sink low,And the warm moon rise over the plain,And listened to the winds go by,And knew not a shadow of pain.But partings come, and the world rolls on,’Tis ever, aye, ever the same;And relentless fate dissevered the tiesThat drew us to Fullmer’s Lane.After the flight of pitiless years,With heart grown heavy with pain,I seek for the beautiful winding wayThat led us to Fullmer’s Lane.The stately forest is swept away—Not a vestige of it can we traceAs we look for the entrance to Fullmer’s LaneAnd the old familiar place.The day is as lovely as ever JuneIn its wealth of roses can be,But no friends are left by the pebbly streamTo cheer or to welcome me.The tear will fall for the lovely past,And the fond heart will murmur its pain;Farewell! for strangers but mock us here;Farewell, then, to Fullmer’s Lane!

And how often, O heart! how oftenIn the bright years that have flown away,When all life was a sunny gladness,A full song of the summer day,We went with a light-bounding footstep,At morn or the calm afternoon,Along the way so sweet and so fair,Wreathed o’er by a billow of bloom.

There was a wealth of song from the glades,And by upland and shadowed hill;By lonely tarn and the winding stream,And the tiniest silver rill.The robin, bluebird, and bobolink,And the sweet redbird soft and low;The quail, with its festive shout “Bob White,”Broke in on the rhythmic flow.

And we burst from the shadowy woodOverlooking the meadowy plain,And gained the home by the pebbly streamBordering on Fullmer’s Lane.Dear friends awaited our eager feetIn that rural home so dear;Alight with love and the jewel content,And the essence of right good cheer.

And we quaffed from the delicious springBubbling up from the dark ravine;And played on the banks, sloping away,And bathed in the running stream.We chased the squirrel from tree to tree,And joined in the bobolink’s songThat rose from the meadows joyouslyAnd gaily followed along.

We saw the sun in the west sink low,And the warm moon rise over the plain,And listened to the winds go by,And knew not a shadow of pain.But partings come, and the world rolls on,’Tis ever, aye, ever the same;And relentless fate dissevered the tiesThat drew us to Fullmer’s Lane.

After the flight of pitiless years,With heart grown heavy with pain,I seek for the beautiful winding wayThat led us to Fullmer’s Lane.The stately forest is swept away—Not a vestige of it can we traceAs we look for the entrance to Fullmer’s LaneAnd the old familiar place.

The day is as lovely as ever JuneIn its wealth of roses can be,But no friends are left by the pebbly streamTo cheer or to welcome me.The tear will fall for the lovely past,And the fond heart will murmur its pain;Farewell! for strangers but mock us here;Farewell, then, to Fullmer’s Lane!

O winds! why sound so mournful?’Tis the grand autumnal time;The world is dressed in splendor,And all things are sublime.There’s a fulness in the vales,Fraught with blessings rich and rare;Ripe fruits bedeck the uplandsAnd hillsides everywhere.O winds! why sigh so mournfulThrough the forest’s golden sheen?More touchingly beautifulThan all the summer’s green.’Tis true the leaves are falling,The forest glades along;The birds are fleeing southward,I hear their farewell song.O winds! I, too, am mournfulO’er the things that cannot be,And thoughts that crowd my bosomSob like waves along the sea.O voices, long, long silent!O faces, long hid away!Your presence breathes around meWith the mournful winds to-day.

O winds! why sigh so mournfulThrough the forest’s golden sheen?More touchingly beautifulThan all the summer’s green.’Tis true the leaves are falling,The forest glades along;The birds are fleeing southward,I hear their farewell song.

O winds! I, too, am mournfulO’er the things that cannot be,And thoughts that crowd my bosomSob like waves along the sea.O voices, long, long silent!O faces, long hid away!Your presence breathes around meWith the mournful winds to-day.

Wewere waiting for the signalIn our lines before Batoche;Ready, eager, and expectantFor the grand and final rush.For three days we had been fighting—On the rebels’ pits we’d rainedA furious and pelting fire,And our advance maintained.All along our lines ’twas whispered“We storm the pits to-morrow,”And a thrill of valor swept our ranks,Dispelling care and sorrow.We laid the smoking rifle byWhen the shades of night drew on,And grouped about the camp-fire’s lightTo await the morrow’s dawn.And some sang songs of home and love,And some of martial glory;And merry laugh responsive cameTo pun, or stirring story.The sentries paced their lonely round;All silent was the sceneSave for here and there a dropping shotFrom pit or dark ravine.The soldier sank to peaceful rest,The earth his slumber-bed;The night winds crooned a lullaby,The stars beamed o’er his head.And all, perhaps, were thinking thenOf loved ones far away—Brave hearts, that ere the morrow’s eveShould perish in the fray.From Nova Scotia far they came,Quebec, and Ontario;Manitoba’s fearless sons were there,Ready to face the foe.All there to stamp rebellion outAnd the grand “Old Flag” to save;“A united empire” for us all,And to traitor hordes a grave!The thunder of the frowning gunRoused up that soft May dawn;The bugles blared the reveilleBeside the Saskatchewan;And there was forming in “hot haste,”Beside the flowing stream.The sun shone on our gleaming steelAll peaceful and serene.And Williams, with the Midlanders,Formed on the left with cheers,And Grassett on their right deployedHis Royal Grenadiers.The valiant Ninetieth in supportTo the right the line prolonged,And Boulton, with his mounted men,Near to their right wing thronged.The Surveyors’ scouts moved to the rightTo prolong the line again,And Boulton’s mounted infantryFormed near the open plain;And French’s scouts held the extreme right,Poised like eagles for their prey;Montizambert with his guns moved up,For a moment held at bay.Howard and Rivers their gatlingPlaced by the Ninetieth’s side,And prepared to sweep the plainWith their missiles far and wide.And down the stream theNorthcotelayWith the Infantry School corps,To upward move and draw the fireOf the foe from either shore.And bravely Major Smith performedThis trying duty that day,Though fiercely assailed he sternly heldThe wild western shore at bay.A gallant corps, deserving wellOf our country and our Queen;History records your daring deedsOn that far storied stream.The infantry brigade was ledBy the gallant Straubenzie,Full of resource, with eagle eyeSafe vantage ground to see.At the zareba Haughton stood,Cool, intrepid under fire;His men his spirit emulateIn chivalric desire.And thus formed up that fearless line,As steady as on parade;The light of battle on each face—Of such are true heroes made.The signal at last is given,The bugles ring out “advance”;The general ’s in position;We’re under his flashing glance.With a ringing cheer we greet him,That war-worn veteran gray,The hero of a hundred fightsIn strange lands far away.His hand directed wise and well;For him the heartfelt shout;His strategy and deep resourcePut the rebel hordes to rout.“Forward!” now along the lineRings our leader’s fearless tone;And with quick bursts of rousing cheersWe enter the fire zone.And the Metis open upon usFrom pit and dark ravine;Pelting like fierce hail about usComes a deadly leaden stream.We pause, and return upon themSuch a fire as shakes the hills;Montizambert’s guns tear through them,And our lines with confidence thrills.Jarvis’s battery joins the left,And thunders beside the stream;And Howard’s gatling is raging—From its lips the missiles scream.’Twas dreadful, the roar and tumult,But our men rise above fear;Ha! the Midlanders and Grens rush on,Winning the first line with a cheer.“Forward, now, with the bayonet!”Rings out along the whole line,And a cheerful, responsive cryRose from a valor sublime.Forward, now, dauntless Midlanders,And brave Royal Grenadiers!And, gallant Ninetieth, sweep the plain;Ring out, ring out defiant cheers!And, Boulton, with your mounted men,Rush on the doomed rebels, too:Ye ’re not the corps to pause nor shrinkWhen there’s daring work to do!Ho, scouts! to the front; forward, too,Rush like mad upon the foe;A French leads on, ye need not doubt;Strike with might a crushing blow!Montizambert, let your guns rage,And Howard’s gatling gun scream,And rend the rebel pits and lines,And shake the trembling stream!The decisive moment had come—Forward! forward! side by side;“Charge home!” the general ordered,With manly, confident pride.And the ring of our flashing steelGreeted his lionlike eye,And we swept like a besom onWith a thrilling battle-cry.Gallantly and swiftly onwardWith a mighty rush we go,And burst like a pent-up torrentOn the desperate fighting foe.Like chaff by the wind we swept themFrom pit and from dark ravine;The bayonet was effectual,And withering as a flame.Aye, we struck the pits and ravinesIn our fiery onward roll,But not for a single momentWas the charge beyond control.Hand to hand we taught them a lessonThey ne’er will forget again,And broken and beaten they fledOver the wide death-strewn plain.From line to line we pressed them,Turning their right on our way;Clearing their works with our lines of steel,And thus deciding the day.From every point we charged them,Till Batoche lay at our feet;The rebels were utterly ruined,And our victory complete.And we pulled their bunting down,And hoisted the Old Flag again,And a storm of heartfelt greetingRolled in thunder o’er the plain.And we cheered for Queen and country,And our chief we loved so well,And silently dropped a tearFor those who in fighting fell.Mournfully to the muffled drum,At the smile of another dawn,We put our gallant dead awayBy the dark Saskatchewan;And we wept as never before,And silently marched away,Leaving them there at peace and restTill dawn of the judgment day.My country, forget thou them not,Nor the close of that sad scene;They dared their all for the flag they loved,And died for country and Queen.Revere, then, that hallowed place;Their life was no idle dream;Honor the brave dead far awayBy the dark and storied stream.

All along our lines ’twas whispered“We storm the pits to-morrow,”And a thrill of valor swept our ranks,Dispelling care and sorrow.We laid the smoking rifle byWhen the shades of night drew on,And grouped about the camp-fire’s lightTo await the morrow’s dawn.

And some sang songs of home and love,And some of martial glory;And merry laugh responsive cameTo pun, or stirring story.The sentries paced their lonely round;All silent was the sceneSave for here and there a dropping shotFrom pit or dark ravine.

The soldier sank to peaceful rest,The earth his slumber-bed;The night winds crooned a lullaby,The stars beamed o’er his head.And all, perhaps, were thinking thenOf loved ones far away—Brave hearts, that ere the morrow’s eveShould perish in the fray.

From Nova Scotia far they came,Quebec, and Ontario;Manitoba’s fearless sons were there,Ready to face the foe.All there to stamp rebellion outAnd the grand “Old Flag” to save;“A united empire” for us all,And to traitor hordes a grave!

The thunder of the frowning gunRoused up that soft May dawn;The bugles blared the reveilleBeside the Saskatchewan;And there was forming in “hot haste,”Beside the flowing stream.The sun shone on our gleaming steelAll peaceful and serene.

And Williams, with the Midlanders,Formed on the left with cheers,And Grassett on their right deployedHis Royal Grenadiers.The valiant Ninetieth in supportTo the right the line prolonged,And Boulton, with his mounted men,Near to their right wing thronged.

The Surveyors’ scouts moved to the rightTo prolong the line again,And Boulton’s mounted infantryFormed near the open plain;And French’s scouts held the extreme right,Poised like eagles for their prey;Montizambert with his guns moved up,For a moment held at bay.

Howard and Rivers their gatlingPlaced by the Ninetieth’s side,And prepared to sweep the plainWith their missiles far and wide.And down the stream theNorthcotelayWith the Infantry School corps,To upward move and draw the fireOf the foe from either shore.

And bravely Major Smith performedThis trying duty that day,Though fiercely assailed he sternly heldThe wild western shore at bay.A gallant corps, deserving wellOf our country and our Queen;History records your daring deedsOn that far storied stream.

The infantry brigade was ledBy the gallant Straubenzie,Full of resource, with eagle eyeSafe vantage ground to see.At the zareba Haughton stood,Cool, intrepid under fire;His men his spirit emulateIn chivalric desire.

And thus formed up that fearless line,As steady as on parade;The light of battle on each face—Of such are true heroes made.The signal at last is given,The bugles ring out “advance”;The general ’s in position;We’re under his flashing glance.

With a ringing cheer we greet him,That war-worn veteran gray,The hero of a hundred fightsIn strange lands far away.His hand directed wise and well;For him the heartfelt shout;His strategy and deep resourcePut the rebel hordes to rout.

“Forward!” now along the lineRings our leader’s fearless tone;And with quick bursts of rousing cheersWe enter the fire zone.And the Metis open upon usFrom pit and dark ravine;Pelting like fierce hail about usComes a deadly leaden stream.

We pause, and return upon themSuch a fire as shakes the hills;Montizambert’s guns tear through them,And our lines with confidence thrills.Jarvis’s battery joins the left,And thunders beside the stream;And Howard’s gatling is raging—From its lips the missiles scream.

’Twas dreadful, the roar and tumult,But our men rise above fear;Ha! the Midlanders and Grens rush on,Winning the first line with a cheer.“Forward, now, with the bayonet!”Rings out along the whole line,And a cheerful, responsive cryRose from a valor sublime.

Forward, now, dauntless Midlanders,And brave Royal Grenadiers!And, gallant Ninetieth, sweep the plain;Ring out, ring out defiant cheers!And, Boulton, with your mounted men,Rush on the doomed rebels, too:Ye ’re not the corps to pause nor shrinkWhen there’s daring work to do!

Ho, scouts! to the front; forward, too,Rush like mad upon the foe;A French leads on, ye need not doubt;Strike with might a crushing blow!Montizambert, let your guns rage,And Howard’s gatling gun scream,And rend the rebel pits and lines,And shake the trembling stream!

The decisive moment had come—Forward! forward! side by side;“Charge home!” the general ordered,With manly, confident pride.And the ring of our flashing steelGreeted his lionlike eye,And we swept like a besom onWith a thrilling battle-cry.

Gallantly and swiftly onwardWith a mighty rush we go,And burst like a pent-up torrentOn the desperate fighting foe.Like chaff by the wind we swept themFrom pit and from dark ravine;The bayonet was effectual,And withering as a flame.

Aye, we struck the pits and ravinesIn our fiery onward roll,But not for a single momentWas the charge beyond control.Hand to hand we taught them a lessonThey ne’er will forget again,And broken and beaten they fledOver the wide death-strewn plain.

From line to line we pressed them,Turning their right on our way;Clearing their works with our lines of steel,And thus deciding the day.From every point we charged them,Till Batoche lay at our feet;The rebels were utterly ruined,And our victory complete.

And we pulled their bunting down,And hoisted the Old Flag again,And a storm of heartfelt greetingRolled in thunder o’er the plain.And we cheered for Queen and country,And our chief we loved so well,And silently dropped a tearFor those who in fighting fell.

Mournfully to the muffled drum,At the smile of another dawn,We put our gallant dead awayBy the dark Saskatchewan;And we wept as never before,And silently marched away,Leaving them there at peace and restTill dawn of the judgment day.

My country, forget thou them not,Nor the close of that sad scene;They dared their all for the flag they loved,And died for country and Queen.Revere, then, that hallowed place;Their life was no idle dream;Honor the brave dead far awayBy the dark and storied stream.

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