Section 2

o
Hast thou stay'd the widow's grief?
And check'd the mourner's sigh ?
Say — what the work thy hands have sought, Tell, what the joys thy deeds have brought ?
O'er the old year's varied track,
Cast thy mental vision back —
Hast in the quarry wrought ?
Brother, of the social band.
O'er the sea in every land.
Tell us if in love thou hast.
Sought to shed those glories vast, Of Him the Master Grand ?
Know'st thou of our faith sublime
We brethren have in every clime.
Who feel the same good shepherd's care — •
Alike his love and beauty share
Through all life's trial-time ? Then strive in harmony to dwell, And every stormy passion quell. Till through our Father's heavenly grace, We reach that bless'd, most holy place Where ceaseless anthems swell. Though darkly now, in yon bright sky We'll see each other eye to eye j
18 MRS. MUNDAr's POEMS.
Our work of love and duty done, And passed the " veils " — acceptance won, In that Grand Lodge on High.
Lines
On the death of Austin W. Morris, Esq., who died at his resi- dence in Indianopolis, June 20, 1851, and who was, at the time of his decease, and for some years previously, Grand Secretary of the Grand Masonic Lodge of the State of Indiana.
Speak low the place is holy to the breath, Of awful harmonies, of whispered prayer ; Tread lightly, for the sanctity of death. Broods with a voiceless influence on the air, Stern, yet serene, a reconciling spell, Each troubled billow of the soul to quell.
Mrs. Hemans,
There's mourning in our mystic hall,
For there's a vacant place — A missing voice — a proud foot fall.
And kind familiar face, Far from our transient sphere away, Hath pass'd to climes of endless day.
Silence and gloom are brooding round In fitful shadows pale ;
ACACIAN LYRICS.
19
And o'er our hearts a grief profound,
Sits like a sable veil : The eyes of light are dim with woe, The voice of joy suppressed and low.
From out the firmament of thought,
A spirit star hath fled ; A column strong with beauty fraught;
Hath fall'n among the dead ; A sacred taper hath expir'd, A weary soul to rest retir'd.
Thou art gone to dwell with angel bands,
The happy and forgiv'n, In thy father's house not made with hands,
Eternal in the heaven. Where grief and pain shall enter not. And earthly emblems are forgot.
0 ! yes f we know thou'st found the shore,
Of still and quiet streams ; Of pastures green, where ever more,
Thou'lt bask in glory's beams : I'hat " bourne " for which the -sad soul yearns, From whence no traveler returns.
Thou't laid aside the trestle board.
The compasses and square ; Thou hast resign'd the purple robe,
20
MRS. MUNDAY^S POEMS.
For brighter raiments there — The toil is o'er, the work is done, The capstone laid, the triumph won.
Thou'st passed within the inner veil,
In that bless'd lodge above ; And thee will angel wardens hail,
In fellowship and love ; Where many a harp's seraphic tone. Shall sound around the great " white throne.
The mem'ry of thy deeds of love,
Are lingering with us yet. Like incense floating from above —
Those tones shall we forget ? Ah ! no, by all that's felt below. The orphan's grief, the widow's woe.
And kindly round our brotherhood,
A silken chain thou'st flung ; 'Twas sweet as heaven's dewy flood.
That on the mountains hung ; And mercy, love and friendship there Were woven in the linklets fair.
'Twas thine the wounded heart to heal,
The tempest passions quell ; 'Twas thine for human ills to feel*
ACACIAN LYRICS. 21
Where earth-born sorrows dwell ; And each descenting heart and mind, In gentle fellowship to bind.
Thine ark is safely wafted o'er
The surging waves of time ; There thou shalt quaff unceasing lore,
From streams and founts sublime ; Rivers of joy there flow along, Like one unceasing tide of song.
Brother, within thy lethean tomb.
An evergreen we fling ; As fadeless shall thy spirit bloom
In one perennial spring ; Then rest thee on, until thy dust again, The last trump wake — '^ so mote it be" — amen.
To A F R I E*ND
Of aught there is that's sweet, In the rude tones that from my lute-strings ring ; Sweet friend, wilt thou not kindly greet. This offering.
Could I but pour a strain
22 MRS. munday's poems.
The trembling strings in cypress gloom which long Hath hung, I'd sweep, if thou but deign, To hear my song.
When but an artless child. Of glorious fame I had a glowing dream ; Around my brain the fancy wild, Is still my theme.
And do ambition's fires, Thou't ask — burn in fond woman's gentle soul .'* And doth it wake those deep desires, Beyond control ?
Say, what to thee is fame. Again thou'lt ask — although thro' storm and shade^ In life's dark day thou win'st a name, That may not fade .'*
It is to be enshrined, Within the hearts of those — the gifted few — With noble and exalted minds, — The good and true .''
I'd teach my brother man, To love the pure — the poor and weak defend To be the orphan's guardian,—* The widow's friend
Breathe words of solace where The heart is broke, and burns the throbbing brain^
ACACIAN LYRICS. 23
And soothe the soul o'er which despair, A sovereign reigns.
A lovely wreath I'd fling Round stern celestial virtue's chastened brow, Unto her shrine sweet offering bring — > Before it bow.
Thus I would write my name, In flame upon the arches of the sky,
And o'er my harp would fling a wreath of fame That should not die.
An Allegory
Roaring adversity's relentless winds, Swept madly o'er the world's dark wilderness ; When through its trackless wastes and drear confines, A-ll sad and pale with want and weariness,
A patient grief sat on her features mild, While worn and thin around her fragile form, As if to shield her from life's fearful storm. Its last scant gift pale poverty had flung, Which now in tattered shreds and ruined fragments hung.
24 MRS. munday's poems.
Beside the rough and thorn-encompass 'd way- Sin's horrid imps were howhng seen to stray ; Gaunt Famine turned to heaven its leader *yes, And rent the troubled air with shrieking cries ; Despair with livid lips, and frenzied laugh, An opiate cup of lethean wine did quaff, While deeply dyed in darkness, flame and blood, Stalked grimly near Crime's hydra-headed brood.
In this bleak world, ah ! whither should she fly .'' No friends, no home, oh ! could she choose but die j But hark ! as from the skies, with silvery tone, A voice was heard to say " let her alone." From the uncertain sin-beclouded way. Her weak unguarded feet to lead astray. An ignus fatuous light gleam 'd from afar. As shines upon the night some isolated star. And from soft Pleasure's elfin guarded isle. The murm'ring winds a wild 'ring incense flung ; While on the sea-washed rocks with Circean wile, Temptation's soul-alluring syrens sung ; Where many a subtle coil of woe they weave, The earth-sick, way-worn pilgrim to deceive. How dark the vale of woe that lay beyond — How fathomless the gulf that blacken'd yawn'd ; She heeded not the Stygean surges roar, And, as if some spirit-strain once more To hear, the child her ravished ear bent low, And from her violet eyes wip'd off the dews of woe.
ACACIAN LYRICS.
25
*Twas not Temptation's mad'ning strains she heard,
But sweeter far, a charm 'd and mystic word ;
And with that sound which she knew pfissing well,
Was linked a sign of talismanic spell ;
Dispersing every earth-born grief and fear,
And bound with magic power the child's enraptured ear.
Gliding upon the gloom, A sweet voice rippled musical and clear, Inspired as the rapt wisdom of a sear, Yet as a mother's, soft, when from its troubled sleep, Her darling frightened wakes to sob and weep, She lulls again with gentle songs to rest. The sobbing one upon her faithful breast.
Lo ! on time's changing ocean dark and vast,
A heaven-directed barque was launched at last ;
An angel guide with loving eyes of light,
ControU'd it through the foggy veils of night ;
Faith watched the helm with heavenward look serene
While Charity, sweet maid, with tender mein,
Stood near, and smiling Hope with rosy wings,
From joy's enchanted lyre of golden strings.
Sweet strains awoke, to cheer the drooping child. Across the wildering waste of waters wild. Laced by a golden strand was seen to smile,
Far off, a gem-like palm-embower'd isle ;
Where cloudless arched the soft cerulean skies,
And light aromas floated sweet as summer sighs ;
W^here Harmony, that blest and gentle river.
26 MRS. munday's poems.
Its chiming songs went murmuring ;
Soft as the breath that thro' the palm leaves quiver
Or the light waving of an angel's wing.
Amid the incense-breathing; bloom a strain
Of joy in floating melodies arose,
Where truth-illumined shone a skiey fane,
Whose time-defying walls stood forth in calm repose,
Wisdom and strength adorned in columned pride.
While beauty's graceful arch bent o'er the portals wide.
And there the orphan's rosy childhood hours,
Went by, list'ning among the joy-born flowers
To life's great lyre, whose chaunting tones profound,
^rose in many an under-swell and spirit sound.
Wave after wave of time went swelling on —
In sinless dreams her childhood hours were gone,
And still the guide stood near and gently spake,
As breezy murmurs over still woods break.
" Fair child, doth not thy spirit sometimes yearn For home beyond-, where ageless planets burn c Those orbs, when floating thro' the blue sublime, That sung of old creation's glorious hymn ; A world of light dost thou not sometimes deem, Floats viewless o'er immensity's broad stream. Where mortal ear ne'er heard its raptures full. Nor eye had seen its treasures beautiful ?"
The orphan sighed — "Ah ! why should soul of mine, For joys more pure or visions more divine,
ACACIAN LYRICS.
27
E'er seek beyond the sky-bound spheres to roam ? Am I not bless'd and free in this terrestial home ?" The angel smiled — " Ah ! poor weak child of clay, Know'st thou ye are but insects of a day ? To-morrow these pale children of decay, Smote by the stygian breath shall pass away. When on thy sight life's transient glories fade, And strong upon thy heart death's fingers cold are laid,
When all the sounds of life wax dim,
And voices soft of seraphim,
Upon thy faint ear call away,
Wilt thou then pause to go. Oh ! say."
"Ah ! no ; if that I knew a world more fair. Where enter not, nor pain — nor death — nor care.'^
"Then with thy spirit's proud bright eyes behold That which the seers inspired song of old." The orphan smiled and to the shore advanced. As through a prison bright its spirit vision glanced. And then the angel smiled with look benign, "What seest thou fair child — sweet orphan mine .^"
"An angel-peopled world — a brighter clime than this; A land of more substantial joy — more rac^ient bliss — A Lodge of spirit light beyond the tomb. Where beauteous bowers of deathless cassia bloom." " 'Tis well — know'st thou a brother from yon lodge of
light, Came down in days of old to dwell ? Our King and great high Priest, whose wisdom bright, Outshone the quenchless spheres. — Did he not tell,
28
MRS. MUNDAY^S POEMS.
Our breix^/en at the temple's shrine,
Who heard with sacred awe his words divine ?
^ Behold ! ye have a mission to fulfill,
Go ye, and do our Great Grand Master's will.'
So thou should'st likwise go, and like the ray
Of evening's sundown glories round thy way.
Let winged love, and star-eyed hope, and truth,
O'er all thy works prevail — go consecrate thy youth,
By deeds of holy faith and love divine.
In its aromal innocence to heaven's hallow 'd shrine ;
For time is but a brief ephemeral day,
Born like the flowers, to bloom and fade away.
But as for me, a more enduring toil is mine,
For have not I beheld vast kingdoms fall.
With all that's best, and bright, that's noblest oi
divine ? Upon my feet their ashes lie, while over all The swift winged centuries sweep by As mists of morning 'fore the sunlight fly ; And scattered round the wrecks of pale decay, On many a surge of time are born away.
Go, then, sweet orphan mine — bright heritor of
heaven. And when thy mission's done,thy clay-born sins forgiv'n, Our souls again shall meet, rejoice, unite In yon bright Lodge, amid the sons of light. And may the word and sign as taught when time began, Upon the lips of faith and hope, forever with thee
dwell,
ACAciAN Lyrics.
2&
And shield thy heart from blight till heav'n-home be
won,
And death and danger pass'd. Sweet child, farewell." The orphan waved a sign of hope and joy profound, While sweet the angel smiled, and strewed his palm leaves round.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Reminiscences. Respectfully inscribed to a graduate of Miami University.
" How warmly and vividly they rise, Those memories of the past ; The flashing eye, the kindling cheek, As when I saw them last."
" Thy heart amid vulgar joys will aspire to something holier ; thine ambition, amid coarse excitements to something beyond thy reach. But deem not that this of itself will suffice for glory. It is bat an imperfect and new born energy, which will not Bufier thee to repose. As thou directest it, must thou deem it to be the emanations of thy evil genius or thy good. — Sir E. L. BuLwer,
Thou, of the lofty brow ! where proudly sits
Bright intellect enthron'd — where glowing thought,
Oft breaks its deep repose, thine azure eyes illume.
Oh ! could'st thou lend a kind indulgent ear.
For thee I'd sins in numbers wildly breath'd.
For thee I'd string my rustic harp anew.
If but the slumbering tones of memory's lyre
I could awake ; and from the misty past.
Old scenes, old faces, pleasant thoughts recall.
Back to thy mind like long forgotten strains
Of melody, which sometimes break upon the ea,r.
And thou hast wander'd — Where } Hast seen the West.^ C30)
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
31
In all its gorgeousness and solemn pride,
The prairie vast in lonely beauty diess'd,
From whose utmost verge, 'twould seem the king of day,
Through the blue deeps his car of fire upwheels,
'Till past the viewless plains and rolling spheres,
Down-flashing far, his waning glow goes out
In seas of golden light, where warm and low,
The occidental skies in love bend down,
Like rainbow draperies o'er his evening couch.
And there amid the voiceless solitudes, Thou hast beheld those vast and lonely tombs. So strangely beautiful, where fall'n warriors sleep, Upon whose brain-bewildering mysteries The mildew page of time can shed no light ; And from sweet beds of nameless flowers didst hear The low and melancholy winds arise. And wildly sweep above the unknown dead. In requiems sad their dirge-like melodies. Hast thou a heart ? I know, I feel, thou hast ; And, in her silent language, nature breathed Her inspirations beautiful into its large recess ; Amid the solemn stillness round didst hear It throb ? — as if Divinity was stirr'd Within thy soul's profound ; didst kneel, didst bend In adoration on the soft green turf? As if within the area of some cathedral vast, While poetry in measured numbers leap'd From off thy lips, as touched by sacred fire ?
IJ-^
32 MRS. mundat's poems.
Art thou a poet ? Aye ! it must be so. Thine eyes have not been Wind, nor deaf thine eari^, Or from the external world have ever failed To the internal world of mind to make A due report. The heaven-descended maid Her radient impress on thy lofty brow Hath left, while soft the shadows of the mind, Like vapory clouds, lift soft and airily away ; And all created things, with stupid gaze Regarded by the dull and prosing mind, To thee half spiritualized appear. And in prismatic glories seem to shine.
Oh ! who would leave the pure and bright creations Of the world of thought for dull and cold reality .' Who would not ever revel 'midst his own Imaginings — although his helicon Should sometimes prove like mine, a bitter fount Of tears ! Hast ever felt thy mind oppress'd With thrilling, keen conceptions of the grand, Sublime and beautiful ? Doth thy heart yearn For truth and purity more infinite ? Thy soul imbuing with a lofty sense Of its high nature and majestic destiny, While far above the earth — its carking cares And sordid fripperies — it seems to soar ? If thus thy mind is delicately organized, Susceptibilities possessing keen, Amidst this harsh and jarring world thou mayst
MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
Not mingle, or dwell among distorted things, Cold and unlovely to the soul and sense ; Some rude and reckless hand will break The music of thy soul— disturb its harmony Come ! let us wander— rem emb'rst my face r I essayed to say— along fair Tempe's vales And drink Parnassian dews.
38
The roseat hues Of youth are blooming still in richness on thy cheet ! Perchance life's summer may not close. E'er thou mayst write within the portals "wide. Of Pindu's hoary fane— upon its lofty walls A Poet Laureat's immortal name.