ON MOUNT ROYAL.
I. They sat in the woods together, On the mountain’s tranquil height, And spoke of the Autumn weather, Of the purplish-golden light That played on the distant river, And robed the mountains afar In a robe more rich than ever Was worn by Caliph or Czar.
II. The wine of the beauty around them They drank till the sun hung low, Till the scene like a spell had bound them; For the forest was all aglow With the countless tints that follow Spent Summer’s retiring tread, When freely on height and hollow All beautiful colours are shed.
III. All hues that the rainbow showeth, All opulent dyes that flush The western sky when goeth The Lord of Day, and the blush Of river and lake and ocean Betrays that his last caress Their life-blood keeps in motion Till he cometh again to bless.
IV. No valley of famed Cashmere Such exquisite tints puts on As the woods that crown the year, When hot-footed Summer is gone When every tree is a flower, Gigantic, superbly aflame With ruby and scarlet,—a dower Of beauty no tongue can name.
V. They sat and communed together; She spoke of this dream of life, And quietly questioned whether ’Tis worth all the sorrow and strife That burden the hearts of many, That tangle the steps of all; For truly there is not any Who ’scapeth the serpent’s thrall.
VI. He said: “Such a thought but troubles The good that in life we find, Distorts fair truth, and doubles The anguish that clouds the mind. Surely, this cirque of beauty, And that blue heaven above, Make love of life a duty, And life a thing to love.”
VII. She said: “The winter cometh; These splendors will cease to be, Like the joy in the heart that hummeth An hour for you and me, Then suddenly sinks to ashes, So perish all beautiful things; So love for an instant flashes, Then folds his languid wings.”
VIII. “Ah! now I suspect you dissemble,” He presently made reply; “You need not fear or tremble, For surely you and I Have faith in love’s endurance And know that beauty abides For souls that in blest assurance Discern where it haply hides.”
IX. In silent and solemn abstraction She gazed on the pictured trees, Through which a pale reflection Of light and a friendly breeze Shimmered and sighed so kindly,— She dreamily said: “Maybe Too coldly, perchance too blindly, I’ve judged of this world—and thee!”
X. A tear in her bright eye glistened, The soft breeze wafted her hair Adrift on his face, when she listened As if to a voice in the air; But neither by word nor token Behooves it the world to know How the chain of her doubt was broken, Whilst the sun in the West hung low.
XI. The low wind hastened to utter A message of joyful sound; Like flakes of fire a-flutter Some red leaves fell to the ground; A chorus of bells in the city Rose mournfully mellow and clear, Like voices of infinite pity For lives that were saddened and sere.
XII. They rose and descended the mountain, So happy and hallowed in thought, Charmed nature to them was a fountain Of tender emotion that wrought A longing for nobler endeavour To make life to others a boon As peaceful and blessed forever As their dream of that afternoon.