A Leaf from the Old Forest

by John D. Cossar

Of its ancient greatness boasting,
And its modern princely splendors;
In a loathsome and a dark street,
Foulsome odors rising from it,
Rife and pregnant with diseases,
Stood a hovel, foul and filthy;
Lay a being, wane and wasted,
On a straw heap in a corner;
Scarce a rag to hide her person,
Lice and vermin creeping on her;
And beside her stood distraction,
Woe, and want, and piercing hunger;
And her look was wild and vacant,
Like a spectre’s, wandering madly.
When the night came, it was laden
Much with gloomy fear and sadness,
And a trembling apprehension
That the dawn would not approach her;
And the morning was attended
With but little hope or succour.
Charity, in cold attendance,
Came with many words and wishes;
And, in fair and full pretending,
Stood, and pitied, and regretted;
But it gave a meagre pittance
Or of comfort or appeasing,

To withdraw the pangs of hunger,
Or relieve her sunken spirit.
But good Sero saw in pity.
He beheld her calm endurance
Of the anguish bearing on her;
And he sent and took her spirit—
Took it gently from the ruin,
From the filth and the pollution;
And he opened wide the wicket
By his right hand, and conveyed it
From the misery and anguish
To the happy land of Blisses,
To the land of peace and plenty.

With the burden of my stories
I shall not detain you further,
Lest ye weary to pursue them
Through the dreary way they lead you.
Let me further only mention,
Sero’s servants were engagéd
Ever seeking and conveying
Subjects from the hands of Weemus
To the watch-ward of their chieftain.
Mute and mystic were their movements;
Softly, and without observance,
Passed they to the secret chamber,—

Took from thence the hidden subject;
From the lover’s fond embraces
Tore away his dearest treasure—
She, to whom his life was wedded,
Was for ever sworn betrothéd;
Went into the stately dwelling,
And the lowly and the humble,
Heedless of position took them;
To the sacred courts of prayer,
Where the Maker of the kingdoms
Held communion with the people;
And into the gay assemblies,
To the scenes of mirth and gladness,
Where were songs and revel dances,
In a maddened fulness rising.
Many widows left they mourning—
Widows wailing, orphans weeping,
In unmitigated sorrow,
For the loss of near and dear ones.
Hard and cruel seemed their dealings
In the sight of all the people;
For they could not learn the purpose
Which, in all their acts, directed.
Yet these were most wisely ordered;
For the Maker of the kingdom,
Of Nimæra’s kingdom,—moved them—
Moved, and guided, and informed them.

Sero to the land of Blisses
Passéd all the just and lowly;
They whose lives had been preservéd
From the soiling stains of evil;
Who had lived in single purpose,
Holy and uprightly always;
Who had made oblations fitting,
Praise and honor to the Founder
Of Nimæra and his kingdom;
And had made a full endeavour
In obeying the commandments
Which were written for their guidance;
Who of charity gave freely
Unto all the poor and needy,
And, in giving, had no purpose
Selfishly to further thereby.
But unto the pit of terrors
Evil and unrighteous people,
All the lukewarm and the heedless
Of the order of the statutes,
All blasphemers and revilers,
And all foul and filthy talkers,
Liars, brawlers, and adulterers,
They whose hands are stained in murder,
All the proud and haughty boasters,
All licentious and deceivers,

They who are the poor’s oppressors,
Robbers and unjust receivers,—
These for ever had their portion
In the pit of gloom and terrors.

If ye wonder at its greatness
And the grand and deep foundation
Of the kingdom of Nimæra,
We will take a tour and see it,
Going unto every limit
Where Nimæra great in power is,
Where he holds his goodly council,
Chief of all the powers beside him.
From the womb of words it came forth,
Out of chaos and of darkness,
First in rude and wild confusion,
Then arranged in goodly order;
Lands and waters, woods and pastures,
And with moving creatures peopled.
First, behold the orbs above us,
Which are ever sparkling brightly;
Let us upward rise and see them—
See their great and many wonders,
With a wonder rising mountains
Through the circuit they are set in.
These are worlds like our own one,

And have each their separate people,
Laws, and customs, and strange dealings;
And these worlds are ever turning,
Moving round the orbs of splendor,
Fixéd, in the height of spaces,
For a light and heat unto them.
Now we wonder if these people
Are by evil spirits haunted,
Which incite them to rebellion,
And destroy their God-like image;
But we cannot solve the wonder,
And must choose to sit in darkness.
Then I guide you hence awayward
From the sparkling of this system,
From the sun’s rebounding brightness,
And the pale moon’s ever-fair light,
And the many colored star lights,
Blended in a great profusion,
To the limits of our world,
Which we best can know and search in.
First, unto the boundless ocean,
By the billow which returneth
Echo to great Neptune’s call,
Where the mermaid host sojourneth
In his ancient rocky hall;
Where Leviathan, the mighty

Keeper of all Neptune’s treasure,
Roams around the rocky caverns
In majestic state, exploring.
Let us see these mighty waters
When they rise in foaming billows,
Swallowing towns, and ships, and people,
Roaring like a mighty thunder;
And, when they are still and peaceful,
Like a plain of pasture spreading,
Sleeping as a virgin sleepeth
Ere vain love-dreams fill her bosom.
Both these aspects are majestic,
Grand, and pleasing, and inspiring.
On a bark we will convey us
Through the peering rocks and islands,
Where the Summer brings its sunshine,
And the Winter frost and snow-storms,
For a season to the lone isles.
Then unto the tropic regions,
Where the proud sun pours its glory
On the burning sandy deserts;
Streams of brightness everlasting,
Like ten thousand mountains blazing;
And the khamsheens wild and fiercely
Sweep in burning flakes along them,
And torment the weary traveller

Who is slowly wading through them,
Thirsting for a cooling river.
And ’tis there the wild tornado
Riseth in its frame of terror,
Wild, and fierce, and unrelenting.
To the spreading woods and forests
Of the black pine and the myrtle,
Of the cedar and the red birch,
Of the oak tree and the walnut,
Of the tulip and mahogany,
All in branchy webwork blended,
That the light can hardly enter
To remove the clouds of darkness
In the vast and deep recesses;
Where the lion and the tiger,
Where the panther and the leopard,
And the jaguar and hyæna,
And the tan wolf and the ocelot,
In the daytime hold their parley,
And resort for wakeful slumbers,
Till the dusky hand of black night
Draweth down her curtain on them;
Then they leave the sylvan passes
To traverse the open valley,
Prowling after luckless surfeit,
Lurking by the lakes and rivers