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.