Victor Roy, A Masonic poem | Page 8

the man you have worked for then, he keeps his carriage and
pair,?Gives largely to missionary funds, and is long and loud in grayer. Never mind, the same All-Seeing Eye watches them come and go, That noted the whited sepulchre two thousand years ago.?There, take that coffee and cake, and when you are rested I'll come And see what has to be done in your lonely, desolate home.?And Jasper, you'll come along to take care of us both, and please bring Something to eat; a basket? yes, filled with every good thing. There, don't be long Jasper, time flies; yes, I know it is growing late, And Una and her lion have not so very long to wait.?You used to read of Una, and wonder what made the lion stay; Lions are useful, Ethel, sometimes to keep the jackals away. Why child, are you ready so soon? Will you be my little guide? Oh, I cannot tell you the worth of this; do you know where your grandpa
died??You would rather I bought it--all right--who is at home, only your mother,
dear??A brother's daughter and orphan child must not perish while I am near. You knew that God would help you, have you learnt to trust and love Him
too??There's another link between us then, ever old and ever new. You're afraid the storm will hurt me, you are used to the frosty air; We'll brave it together for once, so come little Ethel Adair.
Aimee's Soliloquy.
And has she gone--that fair, frail, gentle flower--?Out in this scene of winter's frost-forged power??Oh, heaven, have I been selfish in my woe??Sweet angels guard her through the blinding snow.?Ethel, my child, my comforter, my stay,?It seems a long dream since the summer day?When first she came to me, in that far land?Where the bright Darro laves the gleaming sand.?'Neath the blue skies of Spain her baby feet?First walked amid the southern bowers, sweet?With breath of jasemine; and the green vines twined?Their gentle arms, clasping the golden rind?Of ripened oranges, and the rose-hung bowers?Glowed with the glory of a thousand flowers.?And oft at night, up the dark waters came?The splash of oars, beneath the stars white flame?Sounded the solemn chant of sailors nigh,?"Ave Maria! save us, hear our cry."?But to my babe and I there came no hymn,?No hallowing words amid the olives dim,?Only the same dark blight on every scene,?The leper's mournful cry, "Unclean, unclean."?For then 'twas whispered that dark deeds of shame?Wreathed with a viper's slime our household name.?I know not all the truth, but I am sure?The path of sin is downward, and the poor?Weak soul that yields is bound by fetters tight?'Till comes the end as it has come to-night.?And he lies there; oh, in this bitter cup?Which Thou, my Father, bids't me drink up.?I bless thy strong, calm power, which, through the years,?The long, dark, downward time of change and tears?Hast kept before my dimmed and fading sight?One word which warned with an undying light,?When love had proved an "_ignis fatuus_" gleam.?Duty stood forward with a godlike beam,?And brought before the fainting sickened heart,?The words God listened to, "till death us part,"?Two short words, Love and Duty, when together?How bearable the rains of stormy weather;?But when they unclasp hands, e'en then the dew?Grows into ice-points, piercing through and through.?"Till death us part," and am I really free??Is the chain severed for eternity??Look back my conscience, for the hours go fast,?Through the dim corridors of the far past.?Oh memory, from what point will thou start,?Back to the time when Victor won my heart;?He was my idol, bright star of my life,?Our home was planned, I was to be his wife;?When off to India he sailed far away,?Expecting to return an early day.?Ah, that last night when he put out to sea,?When by his side I sang "Abide with me;"?Ah, mournful days, yet hopes bright fires would burn,?Giving warm promise of his quick return,?Oft would I stand beside the untiring seas,?And send him words of love and trust like these:
"Evening's gloom is round me now,?Evening's breeze is whispering low,?Gentle murmuring voices wake?From the ripples of the lake.?Maker of the land and sea,?Hear my humble evening plea,?Father, hear me as I pray,?One I love is far away.
Guide the bark that bears him on,?Up the mountain's towering height,?And the misty damps of night,?In the city's moving throng,?With the wood-dove's sweetest song,?By the lonely river's marge,?O'er him give Thy angels charge.
In his hours of gladsome mirth,?Round some warm and welcome hearth,?In the halls of keen debate,?And the pomp and pride of state,?Cheer his spirit with love's beams?Lighten up his midnight dreams;?In his wanderings free and wild,?Father, keep him, as Thy child.
From the pestilential blight,?From the sun-beams scorching light,?From temptation's mighty power,?In some lone unguarded hour.?From the dangers that we know,?From the dark undreamt of foe,?From the death-splash of the