And, O heaven for strength! And my mother!--Thy hand Too is cold, and discoloured with death"s pallid brand; And thine eye, which had beamed with thy love as thou smiled, Is fixed on the welkin both wanly and wild.
And hushed are the tones of that motherly voice, In whose kind commendation I used to rejoice.
Alas! I am lonely without thee to cheer; Do thou, gentle Mother of Jesus, be near!
I am fatherless, motherless--Ronald!--my G.o.d!-- Thy sepulchre too is the snow-covered sod!
My Ronald, my hero, the king of my heart!
O Christ, Thou hast power, do Thou life re-impart!
The sisters of old were made glad at Thy will, But my lover lies breathless and motionless still.
Can naught else restore warmth to the frame of the dead?
Not my pa.s.sion"s embrace, nor the hot tears I shed?
But, alas! my Narcissus is lifeless at length, For ever laid low his Herculean strength, And that manly bosom, that throbbed with the sway Of a heart true and n.o.ble, is silent for aye.
Yet he looks like a prince, as he lies in repose On his marble-white tomb, and o"er-wreathed with snows.
The snow too is thy shroud, and thy funeral chant Is the wail of a maiden lamenting thy want.
O Ronald, so generous, n.o.ble, and true, How unworthy thy loved one! how deeply I rue My pride, my caprice, and the preference shown-- But now thou art dead, and the d.a.m.ned one is flown.
How deeply he loved! and how zealously wooed!
My G.o.d! "tis beside where our cottage late stood!
He could have escaped, but alone would not fly, And--aha!--for my safety, for me did he die.
Aha! aha! the maiden cried, Aha! aha! the rocks replied; "Twas carried weird upon the wind, And wildly woke the hills behind; It smote the birds upon the wing, They fled afar, and ceased to sing; It pierced my heart that still its blight It bears upon it day and night; Still when the eventime is nigh I hear the maiden"s withering cry, And see her spectral shadow by, Which stays and haunts my restless dreams, Disturbed by those heart-rending screams.
Aha! she cried, and down the glen She madly took her way again.
Through shadowy vale, o"er s.h.a.ggy hill Young Janet wanders frantic still, Watched and sustained from year to year By pity of the mountaineer, Who knows the story of her woe, And curses deep her kindred"s foe; And on from year to year the same She wildly calls on Ronald"s name.
A Parody
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I sauntered weak and weary From a jovial fellow-student"s room upon another floor; As I sauntered, sadder, sicker, suddenly I heard a snicker, And the lights began to flicker, and right out went three or four.
"Some infernal trick!" I muttered, as I neared my chamber door; "I won"t stand this any more."
Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in my first September, And each night-attired member fled like ghost upon the floor.
Lamp I vainly sought to borrow, though I threatened on the morrow They would catch it to their sorrow, they would catch it sad and sore-- I would have them on the morrow the dread Faculty before-- Fearful here for evermore.
And the hushed and humorous talking, and the doors" successive locking Filled me--thrilled me with fantastic terrors often felt before; So that now to still the beating of my heart I stood repeating ""Tis some prank they are repeating that they played the night before, "Sewn, perchance, my couch"s covering, firmly fixed my chamber door, "Effigy upon my floor."
Then toward my chamber turning, for my wonted slumber yearning, Straightway I could hear them laughing somewhat louder than before; "Surely," said I, "surely that is ominous, foreboding that is, "Let me see, then, what the rat is, and this mystery explore-- "I"ll discover what the rat is, and this mystery explore; "For methinks "tis something more."
Open then I flung the portal, and--oh! miserable mortal!
Down there fell a pan of water in a most tremendous pour; Not the least cessation made it, not a second stopped or stayed it; But before I could evade it, down it fell from off the door-- Fell,--and with its icy current chilled me to the very core; This there was, what could be more?
Deep into the darkness staring, long I stood there thundering, tearing; Shouting, threatening threats no mortal ever dared to threat before; And my face was wild and ashen, and to aggravate my pa.s.sion, Each, in an insulting fashion, thrust his head from out his door; And the worst of all the wretches met me with a mocking roar, Asking,--Had I got to sh.o.r.e?
Instantly my speech grew stronger; I could stand it now no longer; "Cur," said I, "or madman, my forgiveness now implore, "For my patience now is sapping, and the truth is this is capping "What too often has been happing, what in future shall be o"er, "Now most humbly my forgiveness I demand that you implore.
But he answered, "Nevermore."
And the wretches, unremitting, still are sitting, still are sitting-- Sitting each successive session on the freshmen as of yore: Who, with burning indignation, and with angry imprecation, Undergo initiation to this school of modern lore, And the rackets now resounding through this school of life; and lore Shall be silenced--nevermore.
Tomakewaw,--A Parody.
"Give me of your fruit, banana!
Of your yellow fruit, banana!
Growing on the tropic islands, Fertile islands in the ocean; I a little trick will play me, Play it on the darkened staircase, Where no light has late been burning, Where the students walk in darkness, Walk on foot, perchance on shin-bones!"
"Lay aside your fruit, banana!
Quickly lay your fruit aside you, For the eventime is coming, When the stairs are wrapt in darkness; And I"ve yet to waft me distant, Many leagues o"er land and ocean, To a famous school of learning, In the land of the pale faces, In the city of the mountain!"
Thus aloud cried Tomakewaw, Chief of all the imps of darkness, On an island in the ocean, In the wide Pacific Ocean.
And the tall tree shook its branches, Shook with mirth its ladened branches, Saying with a burst of laughter, "Take my fruit, O Tomakewaw!"
Then its fruit he picked with gladness, Gathered it with exultation, Sped across the wide Pacific, Over mountain, over prairie, To the sh.o.r.es of the great river, To the banks of the St. Lawrence, To the city of the mountain.
Here within the school of learning, Sought he out a student"s chamber, Where he peeled the fruit delicious, Cleft the yellow rind asunder, Ate the fruit--but saved the peeling.
And he then with quiet movements, Took up the banana peeling, Issued out into the darkness, Noiseless glided through the pa.s.sage, Till he reached the darkened staircase, Where, upon the topmost step he Placed with care the oily peeling, Placed the smooth banana peeling.
Later on we have "The Sailing."
The Princ.i.p.al"s Ash-Barrel.
In a notable college the story is told-- "Twill bear repet.i.tion, although somewhat old-- That, at some unauthenticate date in the past (I think "twas the month or the year before last), The Princ.i.p.al brought a complaint "gainst the Steward Concerning a matter he long had endured: He deposed that the former--the cause of the quarrel-- Had neglected to see to his scavenger-barrel, And requested the Faculty grave and sedate To sit and consider the point in debate, Which this reverend body would straightway have done Had not a professor objection begun By insisting that such an undignified act To the Faculty was not becoming, in fact, That he, for his part, refused to comply With the purpose the Princ.i.p.al wished to apply, Considering it "neath both his place and apparel To sit upon anyone"s scavenger-barrel.