A Leaf from the Old Forest

by John D. Cossar

Suchlike is the varied purpose
Of the lofty and the humble,
Met together and commingled
In this sacred house of prayer.
Now we leave this hallowed building,
And again the street we enter.
There we meet a mournful number,
In a mournful measuring treading,
All in sombre garments vested;
And in reverent awe we follow
To the place where sculls of dead men
And the framework of the body
In the grave’s deep stillness slumber,—
Where the worms are ever feeding
On the bodies fast decaying.
There the mourners lay their burden
In the cold grave, weeping on it
Tears of anguish deep and bitter;
And they heap the mould upon it,
And return a little season,
Till the time for their departure:
Soon in death they also slumber.
Let us always keep as sacred
This still dwelling of our fathers,
Whereto oft the lonely mourner,
Oft the orphan and the widow,

Come to weep a tear of sorrow
On the cold ground which enshrineth
The remains of dear ones parted
Ever from their earthly presence.
Now we leave the crowded city,
With its mingled good and evil,
With its noise, and din, and bustle,
And the roll of laden waggon,
And the mail cart, and the black van;
And we pass a little onward,
Down beside the pleasant river,
To the fields of war and bloodshed,
Where destruction’s storm is raging,
Where the valiant and the brave men
All around are thickly falling—
Falling as the leaves of Autumn,
Trampled in the dust around them,
Where they soon will be forgotten,
Sleeping in the depth of ages.
Gory red the river runneth,
And the plains with blood are steaming—
Boiling blood, which from the wounded
Floweth, gushing fast and freely.
Why is all this ruthless ravage,
And this people fiercely warring?
It is for a vain ambition,

Or a little earthly matter
Which they cannot settle better
Than in war and deadly bloodshed,
Or to gain an angry vengeance
For some insult which appeareth
To imagination hideous.
Now we leave the sterner presence
Of the earth and all its changes,
And we take the wings of fancy,
(Which is sister to poesy),
Guided by the light of record
Thereon mount, and fly, surveying,
Far above the heights of knowledge.
And we take a retrospective
Of the ancient times and people,
When was nature young and blooming,
When our fathers were created,
And within the blessed Eden
Set to tend and to adorn it.
Adam with his Eve belovéd,
Happy in their single nature,
Thus brought forth to joy and pleasure,
Innocent and sweet amusement,
In attending on the fair wants
Of the creatures set around them,
Over which, in kingly greatness,

They were made the head, the purpose
Of these others in creation,
From the unexploréd chaos.
Thence we come into the present.
Age to age doth bring us onward
Through the fickle term of nations
And the changes of the people,
Mid their tumults and their tranquils,
As they stand in pomp and glory,
Firm and faithful in their own strength,
Till its frailty cometh on them
And they are completely conquered,—
Broken down in great destruction.
O’er the waters of the deluge
We come sailing onward, onward;
And arrive with many records
From the many downcast nations,
From the people of all ages,
First, and last, and intervening.
And we pass the time allotted
To the gods of superstition,
When the world was set in darkness,
In the fear of gods of fancy,
Who held counsel on Olympus.
There sat Jupiter, the greatest,
On his ivory and gold throne,

And communed with his advisers,
Who were Juno, his betrothéd,
Fairest goddess of the council,
Who gave from her depths of knowledge
Good advisings to her chieftain.
Then were Mars, the fierce and warlike,
And Apollo, for the poets,
With Diana, his twin sister,
Who sat on the silent moonbeam,
Chaste, enchanting in her meekness.
Then stood Venus, rich in charmings,
Goddess sole of love and beauty;
And stood Mercury, the swiftest
Bearer of the council’s tidings.
Then came Neptune, strong and mighty,
Ruler of the storms and tempests;
And the god of fire near him,
Who was Vulcan, rude and ready.
And to Vesta, Saturn’s daughter,
Were entrusted fires also,
More refined and more celestial;
While the number was completed
By good Ceres, full of bounty,
Keeper of the corns and harvests.
Thus in council sat the great gods,
Dealing fates unto the nations;

So the simple people fancied.
Now the flight of fancy over,
She hath brought us safely homeward,
To the spot we love the fondest.
There we lay the many tokens
Of the wondrous journey by us,
And reflect now quaintly, calmly
On the great things we have witnessed
In this kingdom of Nimæra;
And, before our thoughts are settled,
We by votaries are surrounded
From the courts of every people,
From the throne of every nation,
Who, in tongues that widely vary,
And in words that sound so strangely,
Give their mission, bear their record
Of the throne of King Nimæra,
Of his ancient power and greatness,
Of his presence with the modern,
With their people of the present.
And to give its own conviction
Shall the voice of every creature,
Of the nobles of creation,
All in one together mingle,
From the feeble voice of old age
To the lisping tongue of childhood.

Grand shall be their mingled accents,
Which in verity are rising,
Telling likewise of Nimæra,
Who their every purpose ruleth,
Tends it in its first conception,
Baffles wholly and destroys it,
Or unto completion brings it,
Bringeth out its faults or virtues,
Shewing where its merit lieth.
Then shall every beast that liveth,
Every bird and every reptile,
Every fish and every insect,
Raise their own peculiar voices—
(Terrible, or sweet, or puny);
And will testify their own way
Of the powers of King Nimæra,
Who their being’s fire feedeth,
Gives them space for life and glory,
With that limit ends their being;
For no hidden spirit have they
Image to the holy Maker.
Now the grave shall yield its token,
And the battle-field its relic,
Stained in gore and kept in glory;
And the caverns of the ocean
Shall advance a token likewise,

Opening wide their watery great doors,
Shew the works of many ages
By the hand of King Nimæra,
With the wonders stored among them,
Worked, and fashioned, and performéd.
Then the voice of stormy Winter,
And the soft and pleasing fair notes
Of the Springtime and the Summer,
And the richly-laden Autumn,
Shall a ready answer make us.
And the mighty wind that bloweth,
And the soothing and the soft breeze
With a pensive murmur cometh—
Cometh laden with responses
From the trees of every forest
(Every leaflet’s tiny voice joined),
From the fair and fertile valleys,
From among the hills and mountains,
With advisings to speak boldly
Of the powers of King Nimæra;
That in every race or ramble
Has his throne been set around them,
Built of wonders and composéd
Far amid the wilds and fertiles.
Here and hence these heralds answer;
Then they take their pinions swiftly,

And are vanished ere we know them,
Still to roam, and race, and ramble.
Next the voices shall be blended
Of the brooklets and great rivers,
Of the ever-murmuring ocean,
Of the wild and roaring thunders,
Of the tempest howling terrors,
Hailstones heavy and great snow-storms,
And the flames of fire roaring;
These shall boldly say their saying,
That he is among them alway,
That they have for ever known him,
And their strength dependeth on him.
Then the rocks in echoes answer—
Answer to the roll of thunders,
And the roaring of the ocean,
In a myriad sounds replying,
Own the powers of King Nimæra.
Then the stars shall twinkle signs forth,
Like the language of the speechless;
And the sun in dazzling bright rays,
And the moon with mellow fair beams,
And the evening and the morning,
And the noonday and the midnight,
And the dew which gently falleth,
And the raindrops and the vapors,

And the mists on all the rivers,
And the fleecy and the black clouds
Shall inscribe their ready answers,
And with mystic fingers write thus:
“When our buoyant pinions take us
High unto the outer heavens,
Far beyond the eagle’s soarings,
Then we see Nimæra’s wonders
In all spaces that we visit
On the earth or in the heavens,
And, in every form that nears us,
See his wondrous power and greatness;
For his throne is firmly builded,
Rising unto all the world.”
And they further shall inform us
That some strange and mystic stories
Have been spoken of Nimæra
And his dealings with the people,
Counted in the ancient numbers,
Reckoned in the current courses.
Now that we are well informéd
Of his throne, and power, and dealings,
Let us hear the voice of Reason,
Speaking lastly, yet abounding
Much of wisdom and of foresight,
Seeing, as a prophet, matters