A Leaf from the Old Forest

by John D. Cossar

Hidden yet upon the future;
And he tells us, “Yet a short time
Stands the throne of King Nimæra;
He but reigns a season longer,
Then yields up his power and kingdom—
Yields it to the hand which gave it;
And he well hath filled his mission,—
Ever faithful, ever constant.
Now he steppeth from his high throne,
Builded to the gates eternal,
Which are quickly opened to him,
And he joins the never ending.
Then his kingdom is forgotten,
And in flames as chaff consuméd,
Rolled away as clouds of vapor;
Clouds of smoke and clouds of vapor,
Flying with the roar of thunders,
Terrible, and loud, and mighty,
And with lurid lights illuming
All the vast unfathomed chaos.
Then comes gloom and dismal darkness,
Falling over all the spaces,
When the flames forget their burning.
Now his people come for judgment,
And they are in substance spirits,
Born to everlasting being.

Mighty is the Judge who sitteth,
And His throne a sea of splendor.
He gives justice without favor.
He is good, and kind, and gentle.
They whose lives have been directed
Just, and upright, and unswerving
From the ways of truth, shall see Him
With a joy of sweetest measure.
He is stern and firm in purpose.
They whose lives have been of evil
Tremble in His awful presence;
For they see their doom engraven,—
‘To the pit of Long Damnation,’
Awful gloom and awful terrors.”

LORD HENRY OF THE EDEN-SIDE.

INTRODUCTION.

The scene of this Poem is located on the banks of the Eden, a pleasant river in Cumberland. It is founded on facts, but the names and some other immaterial points are imaginary.

LORD HENRY OF THE EDEN-SIDE.

Roll, ye gentle waters,
Rich in music laden;
Know ye not of matters
Hid in sorrow’s deep den.
Bloom, ye buxom beauties,
By this Eden river;
Thine a gem of duties
To attend it ever.
Spread, ye fruitful valleys,
Drawing from it life-spring;
Ye may cope with allies,
And a victor’s song sing.

’Twas by this Eden of the northern land,
Upon the fertile banks of the fair stream,
Where nature’s beauties to the noonday spread,
And in the golden sunset sparkle more,
As charm to charm is added ever new,
Until the eye is weary to behold
The bounty of the grandeur there contained,
To watch the peaceful bosom of the stream

Sparkle, as with a thousand diamonds set;
While softly moving, as by inward life
Inspired, to guide it in the bidden course,
As it glides on and onward to the firth;
While in its rural bed the silver trout
Runs pouting freely, darts from stone to stone,
As of that sport it never should be sore.
And from the banks, amid the sylvan brake,
A life of melody is rising here and there
From wood-wild songsters, which their glory take
To mete a measure ever sweet and fair;
As though the task were for a victory,
And each endeavoured to advance its notes
In sweetest sounds and fairest melody.
’Tis sweetly soothing to the weary mind,
Which here hath turned a little time for rest.
Amid this scene the happy swains delight
To dwell, and draw the vigor of their life
With all the fulness nature can supply,
And every morn awake to new delights
Robust and hale, and of a healthy mind,
And so go forth to labor, and to take
The fulness of the land they labor on,
And in the meadows feed their favored kine,
So full and ready that they low and long
The maid with pails to ease the milky load.

Sweet is this scene in early hours when viewed,
What time the rising sun comes proudly forth,
Midway to east, between the south and north,
And chases quick the lingering night away,
Which, as a schoolboy, loiters on the way;
Or in the tranquil of a closing day
It is beheld in charms surpassing sweet,
Just as the sun has done his bidden course,
And goes to slumber in the favored west,
Yet lingers long to take a parting look
Upon the land which he shall leave behind,
As seeming loth to wander from the scene,
But, called of duty, moves at length away,
And draws his train behind the distant hills,
Till all is lost to the admiring gaze,
Which feasted on the beauties to the last.
For darkness comes with night, his paramour,
And cast their shadows over all the land;
And in their stilly presence creeps repose,
And folds his arms around the lifeful sounds,
Till all is hushed of nature into rest,
And all the tuneful throng is mutely still,
And comes no sound of labor from the hill.
Then thrilling is the grandeur of the calm;
The only sounds which come upon the ear,
To tell the mind that life remaineth near,