Sir Ronaldleaned back in his easy chair;He gazed abroad on the prospect fair.On the soft, white carpet of new-fallen snow;On the ermined branch with its gems aglow.Snow white those locks of the threescore and tenYet, smooth is that brow as of younger men.He beareth his years with a right good will,And life floweth on as a placid rill.For though evening's sun is well nigh setHis heart holds the dawn of the morning yet.From memory's treasures of years gone byHe portrayed scenes for the mental eye,Wondrous experience by land and by sea;Fain would I tell as he told it to me.II."Drifting of smoke wreath, darting of flame;The fire-fiend is working his way;And the ghastly glare o'er the gates of dawn,Streaks far on the opening day.The stairway has fallen, the rafters yield,The flooring is creaking o'erhead;Yet the stout stone wall as a sentry stands,Though the surges of battle outspread."But lo! from the casement, wide open thrown,By loving hands carefully bound,A basket live-freighted is hastily launchedThrough flashes of flame to the ground.Kindled is courage, strong effort revives,Grim death and destruction are braved;—What matter the crash of that falling roof!Dear life, in its lustre is saved."III."Deep murmurs from out of the frowning skies;A rising and swelling of seas;The sailor quick-furleth the outspread sail,For a hurricane toppeth the breeze.No shapelier craft from a British portEver ventured the heaving tide;Her firm knit hull, and her rigging tautWere the mariner's honest pride."But what recketh Ocean for pride of man!The storm-wraith wails loudly on high;Till battered and torn is the gallant barkIn her wrestle 'gainst ocean and sky.Yet she conquers, she rideth the seething foam;And, as bird from prison bars free,She spreadeth her sail 'yond the storm-cloud's rimAnd skimmeth a tranquil sea."IV."A young mother sat on a vessel's deck,A flaxen haired babe on her knee;And her thoughts went back to the mountain land,And she sighed for herain countrie.But the light of love, with the hope of youthIn the true woman's heart burns clear;Oh! what unto her is the loneliest wildWhen the arm which she leans on is near!"One glance to the stalwart form by her side,Her spirit returns to its rest;And gaily she dreameth of happier daysIn the new land, the glorious West.She raiseth the babe; Oh well for her peace!Where had nestled the darling head,A fierce, flying ball from the Gascon grazed,Ere it plunged in its ocean bed."V."Name it not chance; No! in earliest youth'Twixt the fire, 'twixt the foe and the flood,Who feedeth the ravens, Who telleth the starsIn the pathway of danger stood.And, aye and anon, on the journey up hill,White milestones have pointed the wayThrough the tangled maze, o'er the rocky steep,To the ridge of an endless day."Now peaceful in shades of the gloaming I rest,Unawed of the murkier night;Calm-souled I await for the upward call,And the glow of the nearing light.The river's sad moanings I may not hear;High over the murmuring foamFloateth rich music. Ah! sweet to mine earThose angel tones welcoming home."VI.Intently I listened, but scant my reply;Sorrow and gladness o'er-misted the eye.Gladness for light of a long, lustrous day;Sorrow for sunshine fast fleeting away.More dense than the doole of a starless nightThe gloom of a soul which knoweth no light.Down-coursing as cataract o'er the steep hillThat will which opposeth the Higher Will.Unbeauteous is age when it crusts itself round,Or buries itself in a selfish mound.But blessèd be those who in soul-growth expand'Neath the milder beams from the glory-land.Yea blessèd they be! when the river is passed,They shall enter the gate with the palms at last.
Sir Ronaldleaned back in his easy chair;He gazed abroad on the prospect fair.On the soft, white carpet of new-fallen snow;On the ermined branch with its gems aglow.Snow white those locks of the threescore and tenYet, smooth is that brow as of younger men.He beareth his years with a right good will,And life floweth on as a placid rill.For though evening's sun is well nigh setHis heart holds the dawn of the morning yet.From memory's treasures of years gone byHe portrayed scenes for the mental eye,Wondrous experience by land and by sea;Fain would I tell as he told it to me.II."Drifting of smoke wreath, darting of flame;The fire-fiend is working his way;And the ghastly glare o'er the gates of dawn,Streaks far on the opening day.The stairway has fallen, the rafters yield,The flooring is creaking o'erhead;Yet the stout stone wall as a sentry stands,Though the surges of battle outspread."But lo! from the casement, wide open thrown,By loving hands carefully bound,A basket live-freighted is hastily launchedThrough flashes of flame to the ground.Kindled is courage, strong effort revives,Grim death and destruction are braved;—What matter the crash of that falling roof!Dear life, in its lustre is saved."III."Deep murmurs from out of the frowning skies;A rising and swelling of seas;The sailor quick-furleth the outspread sail,For a hurricane toppeth the breeze.No shapelier craft from a British portEver ventured the heaving tide;Her firm knit hull, and her rigging tautWere the mariner's honest pride."But what recketh Ocean for pride of man!The storm-wraith wails loudly on high;Till battered and torn is the gallant barkIn her wrestle 'gainst ocean and sky.Yet she conquers, she rideth the seething foam;And, as bird from prison bars free,She spreadeth her sail 'yond the storm-cloud's rimAnd skimmeth a tranquil sea."IV."A young mother sat on a vessel's deck,A flaxen haired babe on her knee;And her thoughts went back to the mountain land,And she sighed for herain countrie.But the light of love, with the hope of youthIn the true woman's heart burns clear;Oh! what unto her is the loneliest wildWhen the arm which she leans on is near!"One glance to the stalwart form by her side,Her spirit returns to its rest;And gaily she dreameth of happier daysIn the new land, the glorious West.She raiseth the babe; Oh well for her peace!Where had nestled the darling head,A fierce, flying ball from the Gascon grazed,Ere it plunged in its ocean bed."V."Name it not chance; No! in earliest youth'Twixt the fire, 'twixt the foe and the flood,Who feedeth the ravens, Who telleth the starsIn the pathway of danger stood.And, aye and anon, on the journey up hill,White milestones have pointed the wayThrough the tangled maze, o'er the rocky steep,To the ridge of an endless day."Now peaceful in shades of the gloaming I rest,Unawed of the murkier night;Calm-souled I await for the upward call,And the glow of the nearing light.The river's sad moanings I may not hear;High over the murmuring foamFloateth rich music. Ah! sweet to mine earThose angel tones welcoming home."VI.Intently I listened, but scant my reply;Sorrow and gladness o'er-misted the eye.Gladness for light of a long, lustrous day;Sorrow for sunshine fast fleeting away.More dense than the doole of a starless nightThe gloom of a soul which knoweth no light.Down-coursing as cataract o'er the steep hillThat will which opposeth the Higher Will.Unbeauteous is age when it crusts itself round,Or buries itself in a selfish mound.But blessèd be those who in soul-growth expand'Neath the milder beams from the glory-land.Yea blessèd they be! when the river is passed,They shall enter the gate with the palms at last.
Sir Ronaldleaned back in his easy chair;He gazed abroad on the prospect fair.
On the soft, white carpet of new-fallen snow;On the ermined branch with its gems aglow.
Snow white those locks of the threescore and tenYet, smooth is that brow as of younger men.
He beareth his years with a right good will,And life floweth on as a placid rill.
For though evening's sun is well nigh setHis heart holds the dawn of the morning yet.
From memory's treasures of years gone byHe portrayed scenes for the mental eye,
Wondrous experience by land and by sea;Fain would I tell as he told it to me.
II."Drifting of smoke wreath, darting of flame;The fire-fiend is working his way;And the ghastly glare o'er the gates of dawn,Streaks far on the opening day.The stairway has fallen, the rafters yield,The flooring is creaking o'erhead;Yet the stout stone wall as a sentry stands,Though the surges of battle outspread.
II.
"But lo! from the casement, wide open thrown,By loving hands carefully bound,A basket live-freighted is hastily launchedThrough flashes of flame to the ground.Kindled is courage, strong effort revives,Grim death and destruction are braved;—What matter the crash of that falling roof!Dear life, in its lustre is saved."III."Deep murmurs from out of the frowning skies;A rising and swelling of seas;The sailor quick-furleth the outspread sail,For a hurricane toppeth the breeze.No shapelier craft from a British portEver ventured the heaving tide;Her firm knit hull, and her rigging tautWere the mariner's honest pride.
III.
"But what recketh Ocean for pride of man!The storm-wraith wails loudly on high;Till battered and torn is the gallant barkIn her wrestle 'gainst ocean and sky.Yet she conquers, she rideth the seething foam;And, as bird from prison bars free,She spreadeth her sail 'yond the storm-cloud's rimAnd skimmeth a tranquil sea."IV."A young mother sat on a vessel's deck,A flaxen haired babe on her knee;And her thoughts went back to the mountain land,And she sighed for herain countrie.But the light of love, with the hope of youthIn the true woman's heart burns clear;Oh! what unto her is the loneliest wildWhen the arm which she leans on is near!
IV.
"One glance to the stalwart form by her side,Her spirit returns to its rest;And gaily she dreameth of happier daysIn the new land, the glorious West.She raiseth the babe; Oh well for her peace!Where had nestled the darling head,A fierce, flying ball from the Gascon grazed,Ere it plunged in its ocean bed."V."Name it not chance; No! in earliest youth'Twixt the fire, 'twixt the foe and the flood,Who feedeth the ravens, Who telleth the starsIn the pathway of danger stood.And, aye and anon, on the journey up hill,White milestones have pointed the wayThrough the tangled maze, o'er the rocky steep,To the ridge of an endless day.
V.
"Now peaceful in shades of the gloaming I rest,Unawed of the murkier night;Calm-souled I await for the upward call,And the glow of the nearing light.The river's sad moanings I may not hear;High over the murmuring foamFloateth rich music. Ah! sweet to mine earThose angel tones welcoming home."VI.Intently I listened, but scant my reply;Sorrow and gladness o'er-misted the eye.
VI.
Gladness for light of a long, lustrous day;Sorrow for sunshine fast fleeting away.
More dense than the doole of a starless nightThe gloom of a soul which knoweth no light.
Down-coursing as cataract o'er the steep hillThat will which opposeth the Higher Will.
Unbeauteous is age when it crusts itself round,Or buries itself in a selfish mound.
But blessèd be those who in soul-growth expand'Neath the milder beams from the glory-land.
Yea blessèd they be! when the river is passed,They shall enter the gate with the palms at last.
FINIS.
[Decoration]