Seem To Lie. The Bounding Blood Now Swiftly Flows Along Her Veins, And On Her Face It Glows With Warm, Bright Fires. With Trembling Hands Are Pressed The Flowers Against Her Heart, A Dark Unrest Seems In Her Soul, Yet In Those Glancing Eyes A Tender Radiance, Like Faint Sunlight Lies. Oh, Sing, Arline, And Let The Echoes Die In Deep'Ning Melody Throughout The Sky. Sing On, For Hearts Are Growing Pure Again Beneath Thy Woman'S Spell; A Power Divine You Wield To-Night To Soften And Refine. Faint Hearts Are Growing Sad And Full Of Pain, Proud Eyes That Have Not Wept For Many Years Are Downward Cast, And Filled With Unshed Tears. What Though Thy Heart Is In That Low, Sad Song, They Know It Not, Their Souls Are Borne Along And Strangely Thrilled By Its Sweet Melody; They Cannot Know What Thoughts May Dwell In Thee. A Song May Wake The Echoes Of The Soul And O'Er Each Life The Tides Of Memory Roll. The Music Dies--She Fain Would Go--But No. They Call Her Back, Again Her Dark Eyes Glow With Longing Light; Once More She Stands And Sings The Plaintive Words Whose Hidden Sorrow Rings Through Every Heart. These Words Her Lips Repeat; The Crowd Move Not; They Listen At Her Feet. When Nobler Lips Than Mine Shall Sing Of Faith And Holy Love; And Angles Round Thee Closer Fling Their Glory From Above; Then Think Thou Of My Sad, Long Song, In Realms Far, Far Away; Though Brighter Memories Round Thee Throng To Gild Each Happy Day. When Fond Lips With Their Glad, Dear Thrill, Shall Press Thine Own Once More; And Softly Of Their Own Free Will Shall Whisper Love'S Sweet Lore; Then Think Of One Who Loved Thee Well In Happy Days Gone By; Though Round Thee Glows A Golden Spell That Carries Thee On High. Perhaps When Each Brave Life Is O'Er And Duties Are Well Done; Our Hearts Shall Meet As Once Of Yore Beneath A Brighter Sun. And There, Where Life And Love Are Well, We Never More Shall Part; While Will Return The Olden Spell To Bind Us Heart To Heart. A Parting Glance--A Glimpse Of Dreamy Eyes, A Fair Young Face On Which A Shadow Lies; And She Is Gone, The Plaintive Song Is Done. Arline Has Faded As The Setting Sun Fades From The Skies, And Left No Parting Trace, Save Memories Of Her Pale And Haunting Face. 'Tis Twelve O'Clock, The City Lies Asleep, And Far Above, Within The Azure Deep, The Jeweled Stars Keep Watch. Down From The Skies A Dark Veil Falls O'Er Tired, Earthly Eyes; Sleep Bids Us Take Farewell Of Care And Sin And Seek A Nobler, Purer Life Within. Night Watches Like A Black-Robed, Silent Nun, When Men Would Sleep, And Kindly Shades The Sun Till Morning Comes. Upon The Grim, Dark Walls The Moon'S Pale Light In Softened Splendor Falls, And 'Neath A Mantle Of Redeeming Light Hides Each Unsightly Stain And Time-Worn Blight; While Unto Eyes Now Old And Dim With Grief, Come Visions Of A Childhood Glad, Though Brief, When Mother-Love Touched From Their Hearts All Care And Left The Impress Of Her Teachings There. As Rifts In Hanging Clouds Through Which The Rays Of Silvery Moonlight Glance, So O'Er Each Heart Steal Flitting Gleams Of Happy Golden Days, When In Life'S Drama Sorrow Took No Part. Into A Stately Dwelling Dark And Old, A Woman Glides With Troubled, Weary Air Her Face Is Pale, Her Hands Are White And Cold, The Silken Hood Falls From Her Loosened Hair; She Heeds It Not, But Listlessly Stands, With Thoughtful Eyes And Tightly Folded Hands. At Last The Maid With Noiseless Step Draws Near, Removes Her Wraps And In Her Listening Ear Speaks These Few Words: "In Passing Through The Crowd To-Night, A Man Of Face And Manner Proud, This Missive Gave To Me. I Looked Around,--- For One Brief Moment His Face Upon Me Frowned, Then He Was Gone, And Though I Scanned The Street, His Form Again My Glances Did Not Meet." The Lady Takes The Note With Careless Hands, Then Turns To Where The Ling'Ring Maid Still Stands And Bids Her Go. At Last She Is Alone, With Eyes Indifferent, Though Thoughtful Grown, She Looks Upon The Note. "Oh Woman'S Heart, Can You And Earthly Love Ne'er Dwell Apart? Why Is It Though I Would Not Love, Love'S Pain Must Ever Follow Me. Are Hearts So Weak That They Must Love Though Love Is All In Vain, And All Unworthy Is The Prize They Seek. Ah, Many Like To This Do I Receive, Couched In Such Words As Do My Proud Heart Grieve; And Oft I Wish That Woman Had No Power, So Fleet, It Lingers But A Tearful Hour, To Draw Unto Herself The Love Of Man, Whose Shallow Depths Too Well Her Eyes May Scan. Too Oft His Love With Deep And Fearful Blight Steals From Her Woman'S Life Its Holiest Light. My Heart Is Not For Love, Though Love Is Well, And Oft It Hath A Dear And Happy Spell. Wrapped In The Cherished Mission Of My Art, Contentment Dwells Within My Earnest Heart. Within The Rippling Measures Of My Song The Choicest Treasures Of The World Belong. Why Seek For More, The World And Fame Are Mine, Then Wherefore Love, Though Love Should Be Divine?" At Last She Reads The Note; Upon Her Face A Deep Indifference Lies,--A Cold, Calm Grace; But Suddenly Her Eyes Light Up, Her Hands Are Trembling, With A Nervous Haste She Stands And Glances O'Er The Page. What Can This Be, Arline, That Brings Such New-Found Pain To Thee? At First Her Eyes Are Filled With Unshed Tears, Brought Back By Memories Of Other Years; Anon, Her Mind By Wondering Fear Is Wrought Awakened By Some New Unwelcome Thought. Ah! These The Words That Stir Her Heart And Soul, And Write New Truths On Life'S Unwritten Scroll. "Arline, From All The World Thou Fame Hast Won. A Crown Thou Wear'St That Fades Not With The Sun; Yet Chide Me Not, If Now Unto Thy Ear I Speak Such Words As Thou May'St Grieve To Hear, For I Shall Give Thee Tidings From The Shore Which Knows Thy Face And Welcome Step No More. "The Two Beloved Ones Left Alone, Each Day, Grieved More And More Until In Peace At Last The Bounding Line Of Life Was Safely Past, And All Their Sorrow Then Was Put Away. They Pined In Vain For That Dear Birdling Flown, Who, With Swift Wings Had Left Them There Alone. Yet Oft In Gentle Tones They Spoke Of Thee And Longed They Fair, Young Face Once More To See. Unto Our Far-Off Shore There Sometimes Came Faint Rumors Of Thy Longed-For, New-Found Fame. This Gave Them Joy Indeed, Yet More Of Pain. For Thus They Knew Their Hopes Were All In Vain. Allured Unto The World Was Thy Young Heart;--- The Gay, Bright World In Which They Had No Part. "But, Ere Thy Mother'S Eyes Were Closed In Sleep, She Gave To Me A Secret Strange To Keep; 'Twas This, That Though They Called Thee Daughter, Child, No Blood Of Theirs Flowed In Thy Veins, Thy Race Was Of A Noble Kind, To Splendor Born; An Ancestry Who Wore A Kingly Grace, The Traces Of A Lineage Undefiled. Upon Thy Brow Their Dauntless Pride Is Worn--- But Stay, Thy Mother, Child, Though Strangely Fair, Was But A Singer Whose Voice Of Wondrous Power Thine Own Is Like, A Voice That Filled The Air With Strange, Sweet Sounds, And Oft, In Many An Hour, Enchantment Threw O'Er All The Eager Throng Who Came To Hear. Enthralled By Her Glad Song One Young Heart Pined; Low At Her Feet He Laid The Glory Of His Life That She Might Wear His Crown Of Love. His Wife She Soon Was Made; They Lived Awhile A Happy, Loving Pair, Until Thou SHow'dst Thy Tiny, Smiling Face, And Then Thy Mother Died That Thou Might'St Live. He Grieved As Only Strong, Brave Men Can Grieve For What Is Lost. Then Wandered Off A Pace To Seek New Life In Lands Across The Sea; He Left Thee Here, Thy Life Was Wild And Free. Long Years Ago Came Tidings Of His Death, Born Sadly On The Wind'S Taint Whispering Breath. He Was A Peer, The Last Of All His Race, His Saxon Strength Was Written On Thy Face. Yet In Thy Veins Thy Mother'S Southern Blood Is Bounding With Its Warm, Impetuous Flood. Enough; My Words Are Wandering; A Will He Left That May Thy Heart With Gladness Fill, Thy Girlish Right Be Recognized At Last And Left For Thee His Rich And Vast Estate. Into The World'S Deep Tide Thy Life Is Cast, Yet Thou Art Still The Mistress Of Thy Fate. If Thou Would'St Wear Thy Birthright'S Name And Power Speak But The Word And Claim Thy Rightful Dower." And This Is All, Her Head Is Bending Low, From Shaded Eyes The Tears Unbidden Flow. Across Her Face The Darkening Shadows Fly That Tell Too Well The Thoughts That Hidden Lie. "Oh, God! Where Is The Joy That Honor Brings, Where Is The Spell A Golden Glory Flings, When One Short Hour, Like This, Of Passing Pain, Can Prove The Brightest Hopes Of Life Are Vain? I Fondly Dreamed That Fame'S Short, Fleeting Power, Could Satisfy My Heart In Every Hour. Then Wherefore Is This Pain, These Sudden Tears, That Fell Like Rain Upon The Last Few Years, And Wash Their Glory Out? What Joy Is Mine, When Two Dear Hearts That Loved Me As Their Own, Have Gone And Left Me, Saddened And Alone! Sweet Mother, Had I Heard That Voice Of Thine My Life Had Not Been Thus. Can Fame, Though Dear, Replace That Loss Or Save Me From One Tear? And Can It Fill My Heart Through All The Years--- Oh, God! Be Kind, My Heart Is Full Of Fears." A Passionate Misery O'Er Her Fair Face Swept, It Awakened All The Fires That Long Had Slept. She Threw The Missive Down, And Paced The Floor With Restless Steps, Then Suddenly Stood Still. Unto Her Heart There Came A Dreadful Thrill Of Grief As She Had Never Felt Before; Her Face Grew Pale As Death, Her Lips Were White, And Then She Cried, "Oh! Father, Pity Me, For I Am Grieved And Full Of Doubt To-Night. I Sink As One Into A Dark And Lonely Sea Where Ships Are Not, So Desolate It Seems. Oh! Can It Be My Aim In Life Is Wrong, Are Hearts No Better When They Hear My Song! My Visions Fair,--Oh! Are They Then But Dreams, That Do No Good, But Only Lure My Heart From Woman'S Truer Paths In Life Apart? "Oh! Adrian, Had'St Thou Then The Better Thought, And Have I But A Web Of Sorrow Wrought? Do All Our Hopes But Lead To Care And Pain, Has Life No Sunshine, Only Clouds And Rain? Has Woman No Power To Rouse To Nobler Deeds The Heart Of Man, And Fill His Higher Needs! Oh, God! In Heaven, Guide Thy Child To-Night, Upon My Longings Shed Thy Holiest Light. Oh! Mother, With Thy Tender, Loving Eyes, Look Down Upon Me From The Starlit Skies." Upon Her Knees She Sinks Upon The Floor As One Upon A Wild And Stormy Shore; Her Face Against The Velvet Cushion Pressed With Hands Clasped Tightly To Her Throbbing Breast. Her Robes Of Satin Sweep The Floor; Her Hair Unloosened, Falls Low Down, A Golden Snare Of Wondrous Lights And Shades; And Pale And Cold Her Face Gleams 'Neath That Veil Of Brown And Gold. Her Breath Comes Quick, She Battles With The Storm That Gathers In Her Breast And Trembling Form. She Stills Her Heart--Heeds Not Its Painful Throb, Drives Back Her Longings, Stifles Every Sob; And Bravely Through The Watches Of The Night, She Turns Her Soul To God For Help And Light. A Prayer Breathed Low, A Struggle Long And Wild, Then Peace Comes Near, And Like A Weary Child, Worn Out With Grief, Arline Lays Low Her Head. A Silence Falls, The Night Is Almost Fled, The Lamp Burns Low, The Moon With Mystic Grace Looks Down Upon Her Fair, Uplifted Face. She Moves Not, O'Er Her Dusky, Shaded Eyes The Lids Lay Closed, A Moonlit Splendor Lies Upon Her Broad, White Brow, And Cheeks Of Snow Are Pressed Against The Crimson Velvet'S Glow On Which Her Head Is Lain. Oh, Ne'er Was Wrought A Fairer Form Than Thine, Arline, Nor Thought Was Ever Purer Than Thine Own; Though Wild And Free Thy Life Has Ever Been, A Child Indeed Thou Art In Ways Of Sin And Wrong. Within Thy Eyes And Silvery Sounding Song, There Ever Lives A Simple, Heaven-Born Truth. An Earnest Motive And A Girl'S Fair Youth Are Thine, And Though Thy Heart Is Wrought With Fears-- Ah! Sacred Unto Heaven Those Falling Tears-- For These Are More To Him Than Many A Prayer Said By Unholy Lips With Humble Air. God Does Not Care So Much For Empty Deeds, If Pure The Motive That Such Action Feeds. Then Rest, Arline; Upon Thy Pale, Young Face There Falls The Peace Of Heaven, A Lovely Grace; Around Thy Head The Moon'S Bright, Silver Rays Are Not More Stainless Than Thy Youthful Days. Part Iv. Broken Links Low In The West, A Banner Floating Wide Of God'S Own Colors Hangs In Dreamy Pride; A Wealth Of Purple Stains And Gleams Of Gold, A Crimson Splendor O'Er Each Waving Fold; A Heap Of Gold--A Rim Of Amethyst, A Hanging Cloud By Glancing Sunbeams Kissed. Afar Upon The Tinted, Azure Skies A Tiny Cloud Of Rosy Color Lies; A Coral On A Velvet Robe Of Blue, A Warm, Bright Wave Upon The Skies' Pale Hue. Oh! Such The Sunset Sky Of Italy, The Land Of Dreams, Of Love And Melody; The Country Of The Passions And The Heart, The Mother Of Th' Ideal And Of Art. Oh, Painter! Still Your Heart'S Wild Throb And Cry, You Cannot Paint This Sunset Tough You Try; The Canvas Cannot Rival Nature'S Skies, Before Her Hand Each Human Effort Dies. Oh! You Must Dip Your Brush In Waves Of Gold If You Would Paint For Me That Amber Fold. Oh! Poet, Seize Your Pen--'Tis All In Vain, You Cannot Paint In Words That Crimson Stain; Though All Your Soul In Quivering Rapture Lies, Your Pen Brings Not Those Clouds To Other Eyes. Though Art Has Power, Still Nature Is The Queen, Her Hand Alone Commands This Glorious Scene. Back From The Shore There Stands A Villa Old And Quaint, Upon A Sloping Flower-Wreathed Hill, Along The Side Thee Flows A Singing Rill; Beyond, The Frowning Rocks Rise Clear And Bold. More Like A Palace Is This Lonely Home, With Marble Terraces And Princely Lands; Rare Paintings Fill Each High And Finished Room, And Marble Statues Made By Master Hands. Without, A View Of Waves, And Skies, And Flowers; Within A Dim, Luxurious Sense Of Hours, Of Ease And Wealth; A Spot Where One Could Dwell Forever 'Neath Some Strange, Enchanted Spell. Upon The Steps A Woman Stands--Alone, Her Lovely Face, A Trifle Paler Grown Since Last We Looked Upon Its Haunting Grace. Yet Still The Same Child Mouth, The Radiant Eyes, The Dauntless Pride, That Time Cannot Efface. Before Her Gazes The Earth In Beauty Lies; Awhile She Stands And Gaze On The Scene With Dreamy, Far-Off Looks And Thoughtful Mien. Then Wends Her Way To Where The Flowers Lie, She Lingers Here, She Cannot Pass Them By, And As She Bends To Touch Each Smiling Flower, Her Hands Seem Gifted With A Magic Power That Draws Unto Herself Their Clinging Love, As Human Tendrils Drawn To God Above. At Last With Ling'Ring Steps She Takes Her Way To Where Great Massive Rocks Like Near The Bay; Upon A Rock Which Seems A Resting Place, Just Formed By Nature For Some Tired Queen, She Half Reclines, And Upward Lifts Her Face To Drink In All The Glory Of The Scene. Low On Her Cheeks The Veiling Lashes Sweep That Hid The Languid Fire Within Her Eyes, Like Shadows Fall'N On Flowers That Softly Sleep Beneath Night'S Falling Dews And Bending Skies. Her Dark Brown Hair, With Gleams Of Flitting Gold, Her Queenly Head Encircles As A Crown; A Wealth Of Hair Whose Careless Waves Enfold The Quivering Sunlight, And Its Rays Chain Down. But Soon She Starts, For Even At Her Side There Stands A Youthful From With Fearless Pride; At First Upon Her Face A Deep Surprise, And Then A Haughty Look Within Her Eyes, As Turning Round She Views The Handsome Face So Near Her Own With Careless, Easy Grace. "Why Come You Here?" She Says, "Why Follow Me? Oh! From Thy Presence Can I Ne'er Be Free?" "Arline!" He Tosses Back His Sunny Hair, Half Kneels Before Her With A Humble Air; "Forgive Me, For The Fault Indeed Is Mine To Love Too Well, And For Thy Face To Ever Pine. But Oh! Arline, Without Thee Life Is Naught, An Idle Dream, With Only Longings Fraught; And Once, Arline, You Listened To My Prayer, Nor Turned Away With Cold And Haughty Air." She Looks Upon Him With A Face Aglow: "Why Bring Back Memories Of The Long Ago? The Past Is Dead, Wake Not Its Depths Again, Lest Such Remembrance Bring Thee Only Pain. 'Tis True That Once A Careless, Heedless Child, Bewildered By The World, By Fame Beguiled, I Have Allowed My Heart To Hear Thy Prayer." "Yes, Yes, Arline," He Speaks With Eager Air, "I Know Full Well Your Love Was Mine, And I Now Claim The Hand Your Heart Cannot Deny." "Lorraine, How Can You Speak Such Words To Me? My Love Was Never Thine, My Heart Is Free; You Know Full Well I Was But Kind, Lorraine, When From Thy Love I Fled To Save Thee Pain. When First I Met The World A Vision Came So Bright--Of Glorious Power And Wealth And Fame; A Part Of That Bright Dream Your Worship Seemed, That You Could Claim My Heart I Little Dreamed. Yet Soon I Woke And With An Earnest Will I Sought Thy Mind With Deeper Thoughts To Fill. It Mattered Not, Your Heart'S Bright Flame Still Burned;-- What Were Your Flowers, Your Jeweled Love To Me?-- I Loved Thee Not; Each One I Would Have Spurned, Had Not My Woman'S Heart Been Kind To Thee. At Last To Fly From Thee, The Season O'Er, I Refuge Sought Upon This Lonely Shore; And Though The Riches Of The World Were Thine, They Could Not Win For Thee One Thought Of Mine." His Face Grows Darker With A Fiery Pride, His Eyes Flash Forth The Love He Cannot Hide; He Rises To His Feet, Across His Soul A Passionate Fury His Will Cannot Control, Bursts Forth: "Arline, You Know Not What Is Love! To Tell Me This, For By The Fates Above, You Shall Be Mine! See, Yonder Is My Boat, Upon The Waves With Me You Soon Shall Float. Hush! Rouse Me Not Or You Shall See What Angry Might Your Scorn Has Wrought In Me." "Lorraine!" She Meets His Gaze With Fearless Eyes, Though On Each Cheek A Burning Crimson Lies. She Folds Her Arms And Stands Before Him There A Womanly Woman, Pure, And Good, And Fair. She Says No Word, But Who Can Tell The Power An Earnest Woman Wields In Such An Hour? He Turns Away--A Silence Falls--The Night Is Coming On, The Sun Has Taken Flight, Upon The Skies A Veiling Shadow Lies. She Moves Not--From Her Face The Color Dies And Leaves It Pale And Calm. Unto Her Side He Comes Again: "Forgive My Hasty Pride, Arline, For Me Thou Are Too Purely Good, And Far Above Me Is Thy Womanhood." For Answer She Extends Her Jeweled Hand, He Takes It With A Loving Awe, As Though It Were A Sacred Thing, And Thus They Stand. At Last He Speaks: "Arline, Before I Go The Secrets Of Thy Life I'Ll Tell To Thee, That You May See 'Tis Not Unknown To Me. You Say You Ne'er Have Loved--'Tis False, Before You Sought For Fame, Upon A Wild, Dark Shore, You Lived And Loved"--To Arline'S Questioning Eyes There Came A Startled Look--A Vague Surprise-- "The One You Loved, Arline, No More Loves You, Although, Perchance, You Dream That He Is True." Why Grow So Pale, Arline, Why Stand So Still? Have You No Woman'S Pride? No Woman'S Will? Why Should You Care? The World Is Yours And Fame, And Worldly Hearts Will Love You All The Same. It Matters Not, You Parted Long Ago, To Meet No More. Why Bend Your Head So Low! Lorraine Is Watching You With Searching Eyes, Before His Gaze Your Poor Heart Quivering Lies; He Still Speaks On, His Words Are Sure, Though Slow, They Find The Truth He Long Has Sought To Know. Back From Her Face She Sweeps The Heavy Hair, And Looks Up With A Proud, Unconquered Air; Ah! Few Have Wills Like Hers To Do Or Die, To Hide Each Wound, To Still Each Longing Cry. "Lorraine, The Secrets Of My Life Are Mine, You Have No Right To Solve Its Mystery; Why Seek To Penetrate My Heat'S Design? How Sensitive A Human Heart Can Be, You Do Not Seem To Know Nor Even Care; You Tell Me That You Love, Yet Love Is Rare And Generous, Its Truth You Ne'er Can Know, If Thus Within The Dust You Trail It Low." The Night Has Come, The Clouds Are Hanging Low, Their Splendor Gone, The Wind Begins To Blow, It Shifts The Clouds Across The Gloomy Sky, Now Lashed To Foam The Troubled Waters Lie. The Sails Are Hurrying Home, The Sea Bird Flies Around And Round With Frightened, Screaming Cries. From Rock To Rock Across The Frowning Hill, And Deep Within The Vale, A Muttering Sound Of Far-Off Thunder Rolls Along The Ground, A Herald Of The Storm, Then All Is Still. And Yet They Heed It Not, "Arline! Arline!" He Cries With Flashing Eyes, "My Peerless Queen, I Cannot Give You Up, You Must Be Mine; You Thrill My Heart, Your Beauty Divine. What Matters It Though You Have Loved Before, You Cannot Love Him Now, That Dream Is O'Er. Look Up, Arline, Within Your Starry Eyes There Lies For Me The Only Paradise; I Care Not For The Heaven Or Earth Below-- If You Are Mine, What Care I More To Know? A Woman'S Love Can Make Man What It Will, For Love And Thee My Heart Is Throbbing Still. Oh! Quick, Arline, For See On Yonder Height The Lightning Circles Round With Flashing Light, It Grows So Dark--I Scarce Can See Your Face, Give Me Your Hand, I'Ll Lead You To The Place Where Waits My Boat; Before The Storm Comes On We'Ll Reach The Farther Coast, For I Am Strong And Young." His Face Is Close To Hers--She Starts And With A Shudder Shuts Her Frightened Eyes; A Silence As Of Death--The Storm-Cloud Parts; A Sheet Of Lightning Flashes O'Er The Skies, It Blinds His Eyes, Then All Is Dark Again. Where Is Arline? She Is Not There, In Vain His Search--How Fierce The Storm, How Black The Night! Another Lurid Flash--What Fearful Sight Is This? Arline Upon The Ground, Her Head Against The Rocks, As Pallid As The Dead. And Look! On One Fair Temple Lies A Stain Of Blood, And On Her Dusky Veil Of Hair, The Crimson Moisture Too--What Cruel Pain The Rocks Have Caused; And Yet How Pale And Fair She Lies, Unconscious Of The Rain And Storm. "Oh, God! What Fearful Sight Is This To See!" Half Frantic He Attempts To Lift Her Form Into His Arms--But No, It Shall Not Be, For Suddenly A Hand Is Laid On His With Iron Grasp; Upon The Stormy Air A Voice Rings Out, "To Touch Her Do Not Dare, Or You Shall Pay The Penalty Of This; If She Is Dead 'Tis By Your Hand Alone-- One Pitying Thought Your Dark Soul Does Not Own. Begone, Or Here Beneath This Angry Sky, Upon These Rocks One Of Us Two Must Die. Ah! Think You Not, You Fair-Faced, Proud Lorraine, I Know You Not; And Well I Know The Pain You Gave Arline; Her Lovely Grace Is Far Above You As The Highest, Holiest Star That Decks God'S Throne; Then Go And Leave Her Here, For Sacred As The Dead She Is To Me." 'Tis Adrian--He Drops Upon One Knee And Looks Upon Her Face With Dread And Fear, Then Tenderly He Wipes Away The Red, Dark Stains, And With A Strong, Yet Tender Grace, Uplifts Her To His Arms. Her Marble Face Lies Close Unto His Own--He Bends His Head And Is He Any Less The Man Because One Tear Falls On That Wayward Face So Proud And Dear? What Thoughts Are His! They Parted Long Ago To Meet Again, But How? Ah! Who Can Know What Bitterness He Feels--That Slender Form Within His Arms. Beneath The Fierce Wild Storm He Hurries To Her Stately Home, And There Her Followers Wait With Hushed And Frightened Air. Oh! Can It Be That She Is Dead, Arline-- The Idol Of His Heart, The World'S Proud Queen? No, No; It Must Not Be, Her White Lids Move, She Wakes Once More To Life And Song And Love. The Pale Lips Quiver With A Sudden Pain, The Lashes Half Unveil The Eyes Again. He Gives Her Up, And Leaves Her To Their Care-- When She Awakes She Must Not Find Him There. Oh! Brave, Warm Heart, Your Love Indeed Is True, You Give Your All Though Naught Is Given You. True Love Is Like The Watching Stars Of Night, They Shine For Aye Though Eyes See Not Their Light. And Adrian, Fear Not, God Hears Your Cry, In His Strong Hand Your Fears And Sorrows Lie. Part V. Love And What Is Life?--A Pleasure And A Pain, A Vision Of The Sun--A Day Of Rain. And What Is Love?--A Dream, A Chain Of Gold That Turns To Iron Bands When Love Is Cold. What Matters They?--The Visions Of Our Youth, Through Years Of Sorrow We Must Pass To Truth. A Woman'S Life Is Full Of Longing Days, Her Heart Is Not Content To Live On Praise; She Must Have More; A Woman Measures Life By Length Of Love, A Man By Deeds And Strife. Arline! Once More We Greet Thy Sunny Face. Once More Behold Thy Noble, Earnest Grace; But Ah, How Changed! The Hopes Of Youth Are Dead; Life'S Dark Unrest Has Bowed Thy Proud Young Head, And Fame The Mocking Vision Of Thy Youth, Has Led Thee From The Paths Of Peace And Truth. With Longing Eyes Arline Is Standing Now, Her Arms Are Folded With A Weary Air; The Same Deep Pride Is Written On Her Brow, As Once Was There Of Old; Her Gold-Brown Hair Is Gathered Back In Careless Waves Of Light That Hide A Scar--The Memory Of One Night. Her Eyes Look Down, Her Dark Robes Sweep The Floor-- She Starts, For Some One Passes Through The Door; She Glances Up--Recoils With Haughty Pride, Which All Her Self-Possession Cannot Hide; Then With A Look Of Pity On Her Face She Meets Lorraine With Kind, Forgiving Grace. "Arline, I Would That I Had Died Indeed Before I Gave Thee Pain, My Heart Has Need Of Thy Forgiveness, Else I Cannot Live, I Crave The Boon That Only Thou Canst Give." "Lorraine, The Highest Graces Of A Woman'S Heart Are Purity And Truth, No Cunning Art Can E'Er Replace These Gifts; 'Gainst Sin And Wrong They Are Her Surest Safe-Guards, And Her Guide In Life. With These She Conquers Man'S Dark Pride And Wins The Tributes That To Heaven Belong. To Womanhood Belongs Forgiveness Too, And Therefore Is My Pardon Given You." With Humbled Pride He Bowed His Proud Young Head, Then Looking In Her Face He Gently Said: "'Tis Nobly Given; If Women Were All Like Thee, Arline, How Many Truer Men Would Be Within This World; For Man Will Ever Go Where Woman Leads. And On This Earth Below The Grandest Masterpiece Of Nature'S Art Must Ever Be A Woman'S Sinless Heart. For Thee, Arline, The Passion Of My Life Is Dead; The Feverish Dream Is O'Er, And In Its Stead, There Comes A Reverence For All Thy Kind, And Thou, The Noblest Ideal Of My Mind. And Now I Could Not Offer Thee My Love, For Like Some Pure And Upward-Soaring Dove, I See Thee Fly Beyond My Own Weak Soul, To Reach A Nobler And Far Higher Goal. Yet, Fair Arline, Oh, With Thy Lovely Grace, Uplift My Soul Unto The Realm Of Thine; And With Thy Tender Eyes And Pitying Face, Oh Lead To Worthier Deeds This Heart Of Mine!" "Lorraine, Each One Must Know The Price Of Sin, Each Erring Heart Must Know What Lies Within; If We Would Live Aright We Must Be True Unto Ourselves; I Cannot Govern You; For Ah! We May Not Read Another'S Mind, God Puts There Thoughts That We May Never Find. "We Should Not Judge, For Hearts Indeed Are Weak, And Vain And Selfish, Are The Ends We Seek; But Each Temptation, If We Do Not Fall, Will Tend To Make Us Stronger, All In All. Think Not Thy Way Is Right Nor Full Of Power, For Every Heart Must Have Its Wayward Hour; And Though Men Grieve Thee With Their Outward Sin, Remember Nobler Thoughts May Dwell Within. "And Now I Thank You For Your Refeverent Love, And Yet I Feel You Place Me Far Above My Own Right Sphere. I Am A Woman Weak, As All Proud Women Are, And Soon, Too Soon, I Feel The World Another Queen Will Seek To Wear Its Crown Of Fame, And Then My Noon Of Life Will Pass As Others Pass Away, Unto The Shadows Of The Dying Day, And Like The Foam Upon The Waves' Bright Crest, My Life Will Glide Unheeded To Its Rest; Like Other Hearts Forgotten And Unknown, My Own Will Wear Itself Away Alone. And Yet"--And Here The Dark Eyes Flashed Again-- "The World Shall Never Know Its Hidden Pain, For Late, Too Late, I Feel The World Is Cold, It Wounds The Brow That Wears Its Crown Of Gold. Ah! Many In The Gay And Passing Crowd Have Thought Me Cold And Even Deemed Me Proud, When, Had They Known The Truth Of That Cold Pride, They'D Known 'Twas But My Better Thoughts To Hide, When 'Mid The Bitterness Of Worldly Strife, I Felt For What I'D Given My Longing Life-- To Wear Upon My Head A Senseless Crown, On Which In Scorn My Own True Self Looked Down. Oh, Fame! I Chose Thee With A Girl'S Weak Hand, And Now On Life'S Dark Shores Alone I Stand; Too Late I See The Sad Mistake I Made When At A Worldly Shrine My Life I Laid. I Thought To Purify The World By Song, But Ah! The World'S Too Full Of Heedless Wrong For One Weak Hand To Lead It Back To Truth; It Mocked To Scorn My Innocence And Youth; To Nobler Work Had I My Life But Lent, My Restless Heart E'En Now Might Be Content, Oh, Woman'S Life Was Never Made For Fame, Her Soul Is Burnt To Ashes In Its Flame." "You Wrong Yourself!" He Cries At Last, "Untrue Your Words, For Worldly Hearts Look Up To You And Bless Your Song,--I Know, For I Am One Of These, And Know The Good That You Have Done. 'Tis True, Arline, An Earnest Womanhood Can Always Do Unto The World Some Good. One Heart In Truth Has Felt Your Better Power, And That Is Mine, In This Last Happy Hour; And Have You Nobler Made Even One Weak Heart, You'Ve Done Within This World A Worthy Part. And Many Hearts, Arline, Have Heard Your Song And Turned Away Ashamed From Sin And Wrong. No Man, However Dark His Heart, Could Gaze Upon A Face Like Yours, Where All Is Pure, And Not Regret, Oh! Bitterly, His Days Of Sin. If Every Woman Would Allure By Graces True As Thine, There Would Be Less Of Sorrow And Of Pain, And Man Would Bless The Day That God Gave Woman To Him." Her Eyes Are Turned To Him With Eager, Glad Surprise; "I Thank You For These Words," She Says, "For True I Feel They Are, And In My Heart Anew I Welcome Hope. And We Are Friends Again, The Past Indeed Is Dead." A Look Of Pain Came In His Eyes, Yet With A New-Born Pride He Turned Away, That Look From Her To Hide. "To-Night I Go, Arline, We Meet No More, Yet In My Heart Thy Image Will Be There, To Soothe Each Wayward Hour, To Lighten Care; Thy Simple Teachings Have Unlocked The Door Of Life'S Best Thoughts To Me, And If I Grow To Better Manhood, You Have Made Me So." Upon Her Bending Head And Gentle Face A Sunbeam Fell And Lit With Mystic Grace Her Dark, Uplifted Eyes, Then Quickly Fled To Mingle With The Sunset'S Dying Red. A Sunny Face--A Noble Womanhood, A Heart'S Wild Passion Dead, A New-Born Pride; One Moment Looking On Her Face He Stood, Then Turned And Went Forever From Her Side. The Twilight Comes, The First-Born Child Of Night, A Warning Monitor Of Time'S Quick Flight; A Dear, Enchanted Hour, When All Are Near We Love On Earth, And Yet An Hour Of Fear When Shadows Of The Past Around Us Fall And Joy And Hope Have Fled Beyond Recall. Within The Twilight Of The Present Day, And Shadows Of The Years Now Past Away, Arline Is Standing With A Sad, Sad Air, Her Heart Cries Out With Longing Pride And Pain, "Oh, God! What Mystery Is This Of Care And Endless Doubts; Will Faith Ne'er Come Again?" Oh, Striving Heart, No Mind The Problem Yet Has Solved Of Life--'Tis Happier To Forget; When Once The Mind Is Roused To Questioning Thought With Endless Misery It May Be Wrought; The Happiest Minds Are Those That Question Not-- To Live In Faith Is Mankind'S Fairest Lot. And Darker Grow The Shadows Of The Night, She Looks Upon The Sea, The Distant Height; Upon The Waves The Ships Go Gliding By, The Lonesome Clouds Throughout The Sky Are Wandering With Brooding Wings, And Grim And Shadowy The Far-Off Mountains Seem; Oh! Fame, Where Is Thy Joy? Oh! Love'S Bright Dream, Where Is Thy Spell? Life, Like The Night, Is Dim And Sorrowful. Low Droops Her Young Head Fair, Her Whispered Words Steal On The Silent Air: "Oh, What Is Life, My Soul, When Love Has Fled?-- And Every One That I Have Loved Is Dead, Save One, And He--Oh, Must I Say It Now,-- He Loves Me Not, I Dare Not Claim His Vow. Adrian, Too Late I Prize Thee--What Is Fame When 'Tis Not Shared With Thee! No Other Name Can Touch Me Like Thine Own; But Now, Indeed, Where Is The Love That Answers To My Need? I Had A Dream Amid The Storm That Night, A Vision Strange--'Mid Flashes Of The Light Methought I Saw Your Face, Your Well-Known Form; You Held Me Close And Safe From Rain And Storm, Within The Shelter Of Your Arms I Lay And Breathed No, Lest The Dream Should Pass Away; Oh, Adrian, It Seemed As Though A Tear Fell From Your Eyes Upon My Face, And Dear That Mark Of Pitying Love Was Unto Me. My Hair Seemed Wet With Blood--With Dreadful Pain My Temples Throbbed, Yet There With Love And Thee I Felt It Not, Nor Heeded I The Rain. Too Soon, Howe'Er, The Vision Passed Away, And I Was Left Alone. "Oh! Waves At Play, Mock Not My Hollow Heart With Songs Of Eve, For Olden Days I Evermore Must Grieve, My Own Sad Song Forever Must Be Still, Of Empty Fame My Life Has Had Its Fill. Oh! Heart Be Still, Keep Back Your Hungry Cry, Our Griefs We All Can Conquer If We Try; Oh! Soul Shrink Back Into Thy Smallest Space, For Thee The Heedless World Will Give No Place. Oh! What Is Life When Only Shadows Fall! Oh! What Is Love, When Love Is Past Recall! My Laurel Wreath Unto The Winds I Fling, For Worldly Praise I Never More Will Sing. Oh! Tears, What Do You Here--Keep Back, I Say, Each Human Life Must Know A Sunless Day." Unto Her Breast Her Hands Are T