Wooings in rusticity

Introduction

All hail, ye lovers of Romance !

In your behalf I touched the lyre ; And should my tuneful efforts chance

To furnish nothing you admire,

My hand may yet sweep smoother wire, And sweeter numbers wake thereon,

Because my heart is still on fire. My mind from this rude task withdrawn, To other things goes on, careering on.

A.

Preface

If no poet had ever been guilty of the pubHcation of an unpromising volume, I would present this work to the public with as much reluctance as the timid hare would display on entering the lion's jungle; but such is not the case, and they who may have the time and patience to engage in the exploration shall discover vast Saharas and lava-rolling ^tnas in the great minds of every nation.

I am aware that it is useless for me in my humble avocation of life to anticipate the acquisition of public applause, merited by any great achievement of my own on the warmly contested battlefield of English verse. Even in my wildest dreams of fame, I have seldom imagined myself competent to cope with the writers of pleasant rhyme, and never for once with the crowned heads of Poesy.

"Fame is the thirst of youth ;" and I am not unwilling to acknowledge my own humble aspirations, for they have helped to lighten the burden of labor as I hewed down the forest, as I wrought at my buildings, as I reared up my fences and guided the plow.

The aspirations of youth have followed me into manhood, and the Muse has visited my silent cot in the deep hours of midnight, gone with me to my work as I waded the snows of winter, and walked at my side through the harvest field in the burning suns of June.

If the Hterary enthusiast digging deep shafts into the great mountain of Books, in pursuit of the gems of Poesy, has labored through all the debris of my preceding volume and failed to become the happy recipient of one precious little nugget, I am, beginning to despair of ever being able to furnish the requisite jewel: and he is likewise doomed to disappointment who shall peruse this volume expecting the portrayal of wild, weird, and fanciful characters; for I have endeavored to clothe my heroes and heroines in the garb of real men and women, avoiding their presentation as angels of Heaven or demons of Perdition.

I am indebted to no poet or critic for any services rendered in the composition or correction of these poems. I wrote such thoughts as came into my mind, and offer the public such as I have written, requesting it to bestow on ''Wooings in Rusticity" a thorough perusal, and on its author such reward as his labors entitle him to share. A.

Sylvan Croft, March 15, 1909.

Canto II 188 Arlmie Zeen

Canto 1 200

Canto II 210

Orene Nelree.

Canto 1 221

Canto II 227

Delgitha Ullawaim.

Canto 1 233

Canto II 239

Ennis Olan.

Canto 1 246

Canto II 256

Remarks by Poets 287

Prelude.

• I.

Sleep on, sweet Maid ! I mourn thy fate, In patient song thy cares relate. And struggle in a humble way To mark where lies thy sainted clay; For I have loved thee all the while, Adored thy every glance and smile. And would I could thy lonely hours Have whiled away in brighter bowers. And to thine arms restored the Youth, But dared not, for I reverenced truth.

II. Sleep on, and may the glowing sod

Heave lightly o'er thy generous breast ! For some may read whose feet have trod

Around thy tenement of rest.

They knew thee by a gentler name Than I have sought to crown with fame ; And knew thy maiden face more fair Than my rude verse may yet declare.

VALATAH BONNOREE.

Canto I.

I.

O earthly Love, propitious ray ! Blest sunbeam to life's cloudy day, Bright light with essence yet unknown, Spark from the mighty Giver's throne! Thou all our hope of earthly bliss, Our direst bane if sought amiss ; True source of all our smiles and tears From boyhood's hours to manhood's years ! But on we go, for fancy's wing Seems freer than the winds of spring. Our theme grows bright, our scene expands, With trembling feet we quit the sands And spread the sheet prepared to sail With the first murmurs of the gale.

II.

On famed Kentucky's pleasant slopes Our Subject lived and nursed her hopes. No sweeter maid man e'er may see Than young Valatah Bonnoree.

VALATAH BON NO REE. n

And she had wooers young and rare — All thought, and some proclaimed, her fair ; Some thought that in her eye's soft ray Her greatest claim to beauty lay. Some thought her wavy locks of jet

More precious to their anxious sight, And others, just as wise, had let

Her melting voice give them delight. I know not who were right or wrong, And care, should none reject my song.

III. Her sire was quite a sober sage

Well known for honesty and truth ; Much read in many a classic page,

A passion caught from early youth. All knew him rich in wealth untold, But in contentment more than gold; Yet he some cash had stored away Lest age should bring a rainy day. His wife declared Valatah dear

Her greatest hope beneath the skies,

And strove to teach her to be wise, That she unrivaled might appear

IV

One brilliant eve when spring's soft hours Had robed the earth's broad breast in flowers.

The great sun wheeling on his way Spilled o'er the earth his mildest ray; Soft breezes from the woodlands blew

Low murmuring of the beds of flowers, O'er which their tardy pinions flew,

Where misery's child might waste his hours And half his vanished hopes renew. No mortal form, perchance, e'er trod

On brighter spot in day so chaste Since Adam, in the smile of God,

His eager foot in Eden placed.

Propitious scene! propitious day! Thus to inspire so rude a Lay.

O that some skillful hand may choose To sketch thee in thy native hues. And show, in glowing tints portrayed, What I've so feebly here essayed!

V

That eve Valatah sought to stray From 'neath her cottage roof away, Where down the lane huge maples stood A few short paces from the wood ; For there, from out a mossy mound. The spring its limpid current wound. And murmuring on 'twixt shores of green Strayed forth to glad the woodland scene.

VI

To that bright spot Valatah strayed To share the breeze, enjoy the shade, And hear, from out the aged trees, The woodland minstrel's melodies. There butterflies of every hue On downy pinions crossed her view. And wild bees whispering to the flowers In search of sweets for wintry hours. The mock-bird, sober and sedate, Sang long, sweet songs unto his mate. The blue jay, vain of his attire. In broken strains joined in the choir. At length she took her seat, to think Where grew the wild rose on the brink ; And there, in meditation deep.

She sat upon the streamlet's side, And watched the moss it used to sweep

Drink as of yore its silver tide.

VII

O, had Valatah young and fair None, none her heart's deep hopes to share ; No faithful breast, no loving heart In all her joys to bear its part? Not one, not one ; and this was why She sat with sad tears in her eye, Still gazing on the sporting stream

WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY.

To while away an empty dream.

But that great void within her breast — That soHtude was half suppressed. She bade her idle thoughts depart,

And brushed her eyes' warm drops away, And strove to nurse within her heart

A wish to see all others gay.

Though sad her heart and quite forlorn, She sought not others' loves to scorn; But heard on every bough above Some blithe bird chanting to his love.

VIII. 'Tis hard for woman, young and fair,

Last work from God's creative hand. To spend her days in hopeless care.

Where youthful gallants fill the land. Think not so sweet a flow'ret made In loneliness to pine and fade.

But some strive on through countless cares

To find their early hopes o'erthrown ; And time besprinkles frosty hairs

Where once the raven ringlets shone. Sometimes pure thoughts unaptly read Lead women to their graves unwed.

IX

Valatah thought life but a dream, And reckoned lovely gallants few ;

But that bright eve beside the stream

Brought one unconscious to her view While thus she mused in solemn thought

Expecting no one to appear Till her bright eye through crystals caught,

Adown the lane, approaching near,

A youthful form as fair as e'er From any clime or country came.

On, on, he strode erect and tall. Fit ornament for cot or hall, Or aught humanity may call That sounds like home's familiar name. At length the sportive rill he spied, And turned himself at once aside To sip the streamlet's limpid tide

And rest beneath the maple's shade. Upon the brooklet's flowery side

His hat and portmanteau he laid, And wiped from off his forehead wide

Great drops that heat and toil had made ; Then knelt upon the brink to sip The blue wave murmuring to his lip, Nor yet beheld our blushing maid. Half hidden by the shrubbery's aid.

X. We know not how Valatah felt

How soon her heart began to melt.

For there and much to her surprise Unconscious sat before her eyes

All that her heart had sought to find. In silence as time swept along She sat still wondering if 'twas wrong;

Vague fancies crossed her busy mind. Though stranger he, Valatah knew,

By his bright mien and neat attire. That woman's love, that blessing true.

In his young heart might kindle fire. She knew from consciousness within

That should he chance behold her there He then his journey would begin

And leave her to her heart's despair. From this she kept her silence long. And heard no more the throstle's song That echoed all the groves along. The zephyrs whispering through the trees. Among the flowers the busy bees

She heard, or seemed to hear, no more ;

For she, fair creature, ne'er before

Had seen what filled her bosom's core With such delights, such ecstasies. Though late the hour that afternoon. Start when he might, 'twould be too soon.

XL She sat half wishing in her mind That he would yet delay and find

Within her bright paternal hall His peaceful lodging for the night;

But vain her hopes — ^her wishes all For fancy drew their tints too bright. Alas ! her pleasant dream must close ; At length our gallant stranger rose His tiresome journey to resume;

But ere he left that verdant shore,

Blest spot that he might meet no more, From off its brink he plucked a bloom.

XII

O thoughtless Man! no creature hath Seen half the flowers beside his path. Great bliss mankind might yet enjoy Did life's vain haste not such destroy. In every glance is something fair Could stupid man discern it there. In needless haste we oft descry But few bright gems where thousands lie. No beggar's path but leads him o'er Somewhere in life a golden store.

XIII

It may be that my cottage stands On beds of diamonds, golden sands ; It may be that my first success

Will prove my bane to happiness. 2

No one can tell by night or day What seraphs watch his future way, Or when life's weary lamp grows dim What loving arms extend for him.

XIV

The charming spots we chance to find Leave sweet impressions on the mind, Though years like torrents roll between. At last the parting moment came, Our stranger turned to bid adieu ; But, hush ! for something shook his frame, And quickly changed his quiet mien. Had some dire phantom met his view ? He started back with hurried pace As if to find some hiding place; Then came the color to his face. And fled confusion from his mind. Say, was it something wild and strange That gave his brow such sudden change ? No, no, that parting glance behind

Revealed the modest maiden's face. Where he had nothing thought to find

More than the scenery of the place.

XV

Then rose Valatah's modest blush. And came her feelings' mighty gush. She sat half wishing in her heart

That fate had bade the youth depart To meet his goal, ere he by chance Beheld her in his parting glance.

XVL

She then his eyes' soft sparkles met — Sweet glance that she might ne'er forget. His cheeks assumed a brighter hue As nearer where she sat he drew ; And yet no sound the silence broke, No word by youth or maiden spoke. Why need the tongue to strive and fail When actions tell the pleasing tale? O, when proud Feeling strives to speak. Who has not thought his language weak ? Who has not felt that silence gave, When feelings rose so deep and grave. More solace to his panting soul Than all the words his lips could roll? Who has not seen in Beauty's eyes Her heart's fond hopes like phantoms rise ? And thus, perchance, our blushing maid Unconscious quite her hopes betrayed.

XVII

Then spoke the youth in accents sweet As Echo's tongue may e'er repeat : ''Here have I spent one quiet hour,

20 VVOOINGS IN RUSTICITY.

In this deep shade^ this lovely bower, Upon the streamlet's edges soft, Where thou, perhaps, shalt linger oft When I'm afar, half in a dream Still thinking on this lovely stream. Is that tall cottage rising there So bright in Sol's descending glare And yonder fields so neat and fair Not objects of thy father's care?"

XVIII

He paused, and ere she could reply Had caught the answer from her eye, And then went on without delay What yet he felt constrained to say: *'Has not that father many an heir His love and these rich fields to share — Yea, all these woodlands deep and wild ?' With head half bent the maiden smiled. And made this answer soft and mild : "O, sir ! I am his only child."

If she a longer answer had.

Pure modesty its use forbade.

XIX

He then went on, delighted more : ''Lile, live thou on, enjoy thy store; Lead thy young heart in virtue's ways

VALATAH BONNOREE. 2t

That peace may crown thy future days. O thou art blest ! if mortal e'er May share a lifelong blessing here. How few through all the world we find

Would not exchange their lots with thee, And, leaving all their cares behind.

Spread canvas on so calm a sea ?"

XX

By this the sun, descending slow, Shed on the earth his parting glow. Then turned the youth, surprised to see

That mighty orb had sunk so low. And, quite a hopeless wand'rer, he

Had yet so many miles to go.

He bowed and bade the maid adieu. And from her face his own withdrew. She thought ere this she could descry The tear drops swelling in his eye. By her, at least, one truth was known — She felt them kindling in her own.

XXI

Her eye pursued him as he strode Far off upon the dusty road.

Till distance in its depths of blue Caught his receding form from view. Then felt the maid as all have felt,

When woke from dreams at midnight hour To see their lovely visions melt,

Like gloaming's tears from morning's flower. Then sad Valatah sought her cot

As evening spread her veil around^ And some would ask no brighter lot

Than there the maiden might have found.

XXII

O tell me not, ye grown so wise. That Passion's seat is in our eyes ! And that 'tis not from out the heart That all our eager longings start; A_nd that to view a painted wall Will silence these deep feelings all. But haste, my idle Muse, away, Lest we through negligence display Stale logic in an amorous Lay.

Canto II.

I.

O why was mortal doomed to share In Pleasure's cup the dregs of Care ? Why formed so fond of happiness, Then torn from all that e'er may bless? Why given hope's translucent ray To lose it in some future day?

Why crowned with laurels in the shade To see them in a moment fade?

II.

That night around the dainty meal, What strove Valatah to conceal ? When this was o'er, without delay She hurried to her room away, And lingering there that night so late. Sat she, so lovely yet sedate, And by her taper's fitful gleam Still musing o'er some Poet's dream. Where he had painted Woman fair. With sparkling eyes and waving hair. And furnished her in easy song Some one to love and cherish long ;

Then forthwith sent him far away In foreign climes an age to stray, And left his heroine in tears Such long, long hours, such hapless years ; But called him back with heart still true Through countless perils to her view, And gave — bereft of half her charms — The maiden to her lover's arms.

Though beauty sleeps in wrinkles deep, The heart contrives its warmth to keep.

III. 'Tis strange that Poets seek to spoil Their heroes' lives with endless toil. They might for pity's sake forbear To plunge them in the gulf of Care. If we their reasons seek to know. They claim that Fate ordained it so. Then shall I to my task proceed, And follow where my path may lead. Not knowing yet whose heart shall bleed.

IV.

That night ere sweet Valatah slept Strange visions o'er her fancy swept. Reflection called her mind to task Because she had not thought to ask That lovely youth from whence he strayed,

VALATAH BONNOREB. 2$

On what bright lawns his boyhood played, What rolling streams his eye surveyed, What spot enjoyed his deepest thought. What home he left, what region sought, If he had passed that way before, And if he aimed to pass there more.

V.

She knew not that her charms had made.

Like his, a conquest of the heart. But thought 'twas from the maple's shade

The stranger felt so loath to part. She dared to hope, in some sweet hour, That he would think upon that bower.

And even dare to think of her.

Yes, hoped that he would strive to trace One-half the features of her face —

Thrice blest her lot should such occur. At midnight's hour when nature slept, And naught save she its vigils kept, In numbers soft, from lips so fair, Such words as these were whispered there :

VI.

"O that his future path may go O'er virent meads where blossoms blow ! May fortune, peace, and bliss attend My Wanderer to his journey's end !

26 WOOtNGS IN RUSTICITY.

From his young heart no homage claim !

May his whole day of life be bright

As Phoebus at meridian height,

And all his hopes like Scynthia shine,

Though midnight storm clouds darken mine !"

VII.

Much more was whispered in her prayer

To which an ear I need not lend. O could the youth have seen her there. Her eyes in tears, her cheeks aflame, As from her lips these couplets came.

That day had been his journey's end. Not so, not so, his heart like hers Gave dying Hopes their sepulchers. While he upon a stranger's bed Had sought to rest his burning head. Unconscious that by taper dim His heart's bright idol wept for him.

VIII.

No one can tell and none may learn Where Love's consuming flame may burn, How slight the cause that woke desire. What word or glance has fanned the fire ; And none can tell what others feel. Whose heart is anxious for our vv^eal,

VALATAH BON NORM. 27

Or who may wait to bless our lot Long years and we perceive it not. We know not whom our smiles elate, We know not who beside the gate May yet our tardy steps await — All, all may love and some can hate. It may be that some faithful heart Is lost through harshness on our part. When one soft word, one gentle tone Had made its blessings all our own ; Then we had caught its happy glow That bygone years have needed so.

IX.

It may be that deep wounds we give To hearts in which our natures live, And may be through some lover's prayer Great blessings we from heaven share. When all around so blithe appear, None dream that breaking hearts are near ; And where such charming smiles we find. None think that tears are just behind.

X.

O Woman ! thou our rise and fall. So bright and beautiful withal, Thy tears o'er waste Affection shed Would doubtless fill the ocean's bed,

Or if from thence in masses hurled Would deluge all our little world ; And Man, thy brother wild and rude, Has left no few with Solitude !

XL

The days wound on, our maiden strove

To sail with Fashion's idle crew ; But vain her aim — that maple grove

And lovely youth rose to her view. Then Reason's aid Valatah sought

To drive her idle thoughts away; Vain was her logic if she thought,

Where Love is crowned that reason may

One moment hold unbroken sway.

He toils in vain who wets the floor

To check the house top's angry blaze ; He toils for naught who would restore

An aged man to youthful days ; He dreams amiss who hopes to gain In foreign climes release from pain. 'Twas so with her, her hopes were vain, Her lips gave out this simple strain:

XII.

"The Bards have sung of Lethe's tide.

O where may earth this blessing keep ? From what dark glen or mountain side

May its prolific waters leap ?

If I could find that mighty stream, I'd drink till it dispersed my dream." Sweet child, thou hadst not quaffed alone If such strange stream to man were known ; Earth's older sons had met thee there With many a hopeless case of Care.

XIII.

But on and on our hero strayed, Strange faces met, new friendships made, And countless ills had, night and day. Thrown dusky shadows o'er his way ; But he had met no face more fair

Than that within the maple's shade.

Which he so eagerly surveyed That happy hour he loitered there.

XIV.

O Destiny, thou strange, strange thing,

In man great changes thou hast wrought ! Some leave the plow to reign as king ;

Some lessons learn of men they taught ; Some close their eyes upon the field

Just when their swords have won renown ; Some conquer much at last to yield ;

Some save up gold to buy a crown ; Some leave the forge at Freedom's call ;

Some triumph in a tyrant's fall,

Yet claim to love him all the while ;

Some end their days when ills befall — O deed atrocious, black and vile !

XV.

Shall destiny our youth restore Unto that sweet maid as before, Or must he wander evermore Unblest from sad Valatah's door? The days speed on. Time keeps his pace Regardless of our changing race. No one need think to stay his flight When some new bauble gives delight, Or urge the Monarch on his way When they would gain some future day.

XVI.

The months rolled on; Valatah seemed

The gayest bird in Beauty's grove. And none — not even her parents — dreamed That her Affection's heart-blood streamed

For one who, destined still to rove, Might yet return some future day. Perchance to some fond heart's dismay. Her friends all thought Valatah gay.

And had no idea that she strove To drive her mind's dark clouds away.

XVII.

Oft have we seen fair Woman smile With sad tears in her eyes the while, And we, in Pleasure's lighted hall.

Have heard her merry laughter ring. E'en when her sweet Afifections all Were dipped in Disappointment's gall.

O gentle, loving, trusting thing !

XVIII.

One lovely eve, 'mid autumn's reign, When Sol, descending to the main, In softer tints had dressed the lawn Than e'er by mortal's hand were drawn, The sighing gale that swept along Still echoed back the wild bee's song, And one might catch in its soft breath Faint murmurings of the flowers in death. O Earth, how beautiful and fair ! No mortal form should nurse despair

And gaze on thee one moment's space ; Let Misery to the woods repair.

And, gazing on Dame Nature's face, Forget the last dull sting of Care.

XIX.

That lovely eve Valatah sought

To spend an hour in solemn thought

WOOINGS IN RUSTICITY.

Where in the merry days of spring She paused to hear the wild birds sing ; Though oft adown the peaceful glen Had strolled the musing maid since then, When breezes came low murmuring on From groves far off upon the lawn, Where some bright birds their love lays sung, And others wrought to feed their young.

XX.

At last the maid's slow step returned

To meet a stranger at her gate Whom many an idle one had spurned,

He seemed so sad and desolate.

He paused, and 'Atah smiled to trace The features of his handsome face — Sweet face, first seen beside the stream When Passion shed its twilight gleam, And since in many a midnight dream.

XXI.

O Life ! though clouds deface thy skies, At times some brilliant moments rise ; The sun from out the heaven's blue Shines on our darkened paths anew. And gives us through his cheerful rays Bright hopes of many happy days.

We learn, unwilling to be taught,

That they who through thee sighing go,

At first, in vain, some idol sought,

And loosed their own flood gates of woe.

Too oft in manhood's early years

We dig the channels for our tears.

XXII.

But let us not, in thoughtless song, Detain the youth and maid so long

In silence at the cottage gate.

O then he spoke in voice the same ! ''Fair Miss, if thou wouldst know my name,

'Tis nothing more than Silvo Date." 'Twas said in tones as sweet and clear As ever blessed that maiden's ear. On him an anxious look she cast;

What most surprised Valatah then Was he who first on foot had passed

With horse and chaise should come again. She might have seen great crowds of men Who rode at first to walk at last. And might have known some thoughtful page Who walked in youth to ride in age.

XXIII

Then leaning from his cushioned seat, Quoth he : 'T've grown fatigued to-day. And fain would rest upon my way If I may find some calm retreat." 3

"O, sir ! my father's absent now, He drove to town this afternoon, But I will send my mother soon." Then came the blush upon her brow, That brow how beautiful and fair ! She bade the stranger linger there. And, passing through the cottage gate, Left him alone his doom to wait. At length appeared the rustic dame, And gazed into the stranger's face To see if aught of sin or shame

Had on his features left a trace ; He met her glance with noble mien, And thus addressed the household queen

XXIV

"O madam, once as night drew near I passed this lovely cottage here. And found great numbers on the road Who think that nature has bestowed

Her care on them and them alone. Yes, met with those who care no more To turn a stranger from their door

Than if their hearts were made of stone. Then tell me if thou wilt deny Home's comforts to a passer-by?" fie paused to hear the dame's reply.

"No, sir ; though small and rude our store, We turn no wanderer from our door. If 'tis your wish, you may alight; We'll give you lodging for the night."

XXV

At length the rustic Sage appeared; The youth surveyed his frosty beard, And in his features seemed to scan Each trait that marks a noble man. Ere ev'ning's parting smiles were shed Valatah's hand their supper spread. The ware appeared so bright and neat, So soft and white the table sheet. Our youth for gazing scarce could eat. There face to face sat sage and dame.

And face to face sat youth and maid; The old had played in Life's great game.

The young, fond creatures, had not played. O ye whose eyes may fill with tears When some soul-touching scene appears ! Frown not if this strange contrast here Is not enough to claim a tear.

To paint the glow in Beauty's cheek. Or bid. Affection's feelings speak.

Canto III. I

Thou Soul of Man! no gift so rare Has God intrusted to our care, Rich storehouse kept at Wisdom's seat, True guidance to the Dust's retreat, Companion till its last defeat, Predestined in Time's close to meet; And thus united Heaven share Or howl with arch-fiends in despair. Great boon to Man alone supplied— Man thus to glory's King allied, Though beast to other beasts denied, Mysterious beast, his Maker's pride.

II.

What this strange Creature might have been

Had he escaped the gulf of Sin,

No mortal knows ; no tongue can guess

Or sound his sea of Happiness,

Nor knows how much he might have lost,

On what wild mains been tempest-tossed,

Had God reversed his perfect plan

And kept the mind and soul from Man.

If such the poor dumb brutes had gained And Man had lost, then they had reigned, Then had they filled Man's sphere to-day And he been just as dull as they.

III.

Man in his fall sank down as low As Nature gave him room to go, But has since then great progress made, Left shining tracks by Heaven's aid; Pierian draughts drank deep and free, Played on the sands by Wisdom's sea, And from the midnight mines of Thought From time to time rare jewels brought. But let us leave this creature here Himself, his wand'ring bark to steer.