DE PROFUNDIS.
I looked abroad; gloom, only gloom;
Weird, solemn, chill and densely drear; Black curtain over nature's bier; Silence oppressive as of doom.
"Oh soul!" I said, "though morn be bright,
Though gorgeous vistas charm life's day, Descends on every earth-trod way Cold mortal chill, bereavement's night."
Once more I looked; transcendent shine!
The myriad gates of light unbarred; The glowing heavens serenely starred; Dull earth transformed to scene divine.
Then said I, "Soul! would the mercy beams
Shed ever such radiant light, Had'st thou not known dark sorrow's night Or groped within this world of dreams?"
[THE ECLIPSE OF THE MOON.]
NOVEMBER 15TH, 1891.
In her calm, tender, beauty arising
She smiled as she journeyed on high; Till the shadows fled far o'er the pineland,
Till ocean smiled back to the sky. And our souls, in those genial rays basking,
Which glorified river and shore, Soared high from the loved of the life that is,
To the loved of the life evermore.
But lo! o'er the brightness, and beauty and grace
Creeps slowly a dismal, black screen; Now veiled from our eyes is the centre of light,
Earth's shadows have fallen between. A moment obscure, then a clear shining rim,
As gleam of the covenant bow; The veil is withdrawn from fair Luna's bright face,
And the heavens are again in a glow.
Thus basketh the soul in that holier light
Which beameth from Centre Divine; Thus veiled is the radiance uplifting the life
When we kneel at a worldly shrine. Yet steadfast and clear is that earth-clouded Light
The penitent, looking on high, Will view the dark curtain to density glide,
And mercy re-lighten the sky.
[ERIN'S ADDRESS TO FREEDOM.]
VS. LANDLORDISM.
Thou Freedom! which in years agone
Sat gloriously upon our hills; Through all these verdant valleys shone,
And sang in all those mountain rills.
Oh Thou! for whom my children fought;
Their blood upon thine altar stands; The sacrifice! was it for nought?
Is it for nought these clasp their hands?
Their wills were iron—not their lungs;—
They shrank not from the fiercest fight; Their deeds, more than ten thousand tongues,
Plead loudly for their offsprings' right.
Oh! what to us that golden age
When Athens reigned, or ancient Rome; We need not grope through history's page
To greet the scourge we find at home.
My leal ones crave no wizard wand
With topaz gleams their path to pave; But justice, freedom, fatherland,
A hopeful life, and peaceful grave.
Obedient ever to those laws
Which jar not with that Higher Will; Thou! Leader in their righteous cause,
With beacon rays their spirits fill.
Thou mayst not see—for Falsehood veils,
And Truth retires when tyrants reign— Those scenes 'fore which all nature pales,
Nor list the cry of hunger-pain.
Yet thee we hear in every breeze
That round the lonely hamlet raves; Thy mountains echo to thy seas—
"Ye sons of freemen be not slaves."
Before Despair's dim, hollow eye,
Starvation's wan and wasted cheek, Can soul of man stand idly by?
God of their fathers, aid the weak!
Through centuries of direst gloom
The Afric prayed thy dawn to see; At length there tolled Oppression's doom
Out-rung with notes of jubilee.
Too long, in Sorrow's dusky shroud
Thy glorious mien is hid from view; Now Courage wakes, and calls aloud,
Come forth! thou birthright of the true!
And Thou shalt come! for plaintive song
In minor tone, on bended knee, Shall rise the power to conquer wrong;—
And Erin's Ireland shall be free.