OFFERINGS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2892, 18 August 1909, Page 87

OFFERINGS.

By John Christh.

BIWAKD AND ISORA. —The Hero and His Haunts

"Where woods were wild, and valley, hill, and glen With grass was green, mmd running waters leapt And laagbed in gladness, for beyond the ken Oi ciiy folk, has flock a shepherd kept ; lliongh young in years. h« -was a man of

men, ■And led a life wherein be never wept, Except when touched by thoughts ot others' ills, Or by a- splendid sunset on the iills. His name was Siward, and he loved to climb

The mighty mountains, though lie thence oonld see Kb villages where bells were won't to chime At morn or eventide — so furrowed lea "Where ploughmen whistled at the hour of prime, But places where such places well might be; "With serried summits, that appeared to run Sight from the rising -to the setting sunL Of human life no sound was near at all:The only sounds that ever thrilled the ear dune from the river in its foaming fall ' Amongst the boulders, or some oingie near iWJien tbe ewe answered to the lambkin's call ; x And es> through all tbe seasons of the "year Silence prevailed like a. mysterious spell Ti«t soothes the heart, yet troubles it as well.

— His Dwelling. —

His simple shieling stood beneath tiie shade Of mountain beeches, buiH of beech rtee'f— Of logs that had been merely squared, and 'hud On one another. There wae little delf Or chinaware within it, but .displayed in rustic rougnness. . en r. rustic shelf, t Were wooden epeoma, tin panndkins and plates And knives and forks — the latter were not

mates. By these and other chattels one could see, That, though the shed was not unlike a stable, •It was a human home, supremely free From all sophistication; even the table "Was driven into tbe floor, and two or three Huge butt-like blocks, which one was nard'ly »ble To move by band, were all that seemed to

grace As chairs or stools the unassuming place. There were two windowc in the hut, but they Were quite, devoid of shutter, blind, or glues, And in at each -the cheerful light^of day Through some old sheeting " was allowed to

pass; The floor was merely native earth and clay, The roof was skewed and thatched with , reedy grass; And yet the walls wildi ,many % pictured

pafire Showed what was passing on the world's

great stage. For there tbe Gkaphic, Iliatstba.ted News, And humbug - bating, laughter - loving Pujich,^ Were closely pasted; and (thy pardon, Muse, Who needst not think of such a thing as lunch, Or cup on aught less dainty than the dews Of Helicon) there, too-, in many a bunch Hang onions, parsnips, parley; aJeo meat, la legs or loins, for mortal man must eat.

— His Library. —

Some books he had, but it were cafe to my He bad not many. If I mind aright, The Bible, Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, Grayv Burns, Byron, Edgar Poe, and Gilbert , White, Swift's "Gulliver," and BoswelTs "Johneon," yea, And Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," were the bright Especial cheerers of his lonely hours, 'The friends and formers ot his inward

powers. - And then there was tike book of his own heart

With all* its fancies, humours, thoughts,

and dreams, Thick cc the very leaves and flowers that start In springtime from the trees and by the

streams : And there was Natures volume, which no art Can reproduce, disc-losing with strange gleams And glooms and glamours, to his sightful

soul, God in tite parts and God throughout the whole.

— His Companions.— Genius is always solitary, say Platonic persona: Siward was not tbat, For in his tree-bowered dwelling dwelt a grey, ▲ genrtOe and most gentlemanly cat. "Which from the rustic precincts scared away • The nibbling mouse and nothing-sparing rat, And purred upon his knee at evenfall, And slept at night between him and <he walL He had besides— bis father's parting gifk— His good friend Fritz, a fondly faithful dog; Black, white, aod tan, and beardy-mouthed, and swift To range the mountain* and io scour tne

bos; Supreme at finding stragglers in the drift, Or gathering in *midst the densest fog; And otherwise so wise tcba>t, on the whole, A man might say he had a human soul. And wberesoe'er the musinjr maeter wont — Acr-" the mountain, «r along the river, Ot t_/-agh the bush, the faithful fellow bent His. course beside hlm_always, and he never Befueed, however overcome or spent, To do bis bidding— serviceable ever ; The servant always joined the masters

rambles, The master often shared the servant's gambols. And when, some gift in. early youth bestowed Would -jraken thoughts of other tames and

ties .Within tfce master's breast until he trowed That there was little joy beneath the skies. The noble creature eloquently 6>howed r By certain signs abont the teal and* eyes, Tb»t he was of » sympathetic vein, And feH for others in- their hour of pain. Besides bis dog and cat. he bad a steed— i chestnut-coloured filly, with * pace rvrty x»cer j -$rt.-rr*~~^r*t for 3a>ear speed J.t,A skill in wheeling when upon the

chase Ol wild bnak tattle; also for her heed To bear hex rider and herself with grace, And fox the joy she seemed to feel in dashing Through wind and rain when thunder clouds were crashing.

Hex name was Jessamy, and when they rode Amidst the tempest, rioting sublime, Young Siward felt »s thougn a god abode Within his heart, which royally kept time With the brave animal which he bestrode, Ond with the wind and with the thunder chime; And though his hand with lightning had been biassed He had not felt it while that feeling lasted. — His Justified. — Madness, you say; nay nothing of the sort,. But a mere natural though sublime sensation, Which you or I, or any one, in short Might feel on any similar occasion; For instance, at the storming of a fort. Or at the hearing of a great oration, Or at a grand review of soldiers, say, A hundred thousand men in full array. — His Happiness and Unhappiness. — Thus Siward lived amongst the lonely hills With these dumb creatures for his only mates, An utter stranger to the crying ills Which visit men in almost all the states Of social life and action. Bakers' bills, Or milliners' accounts, or city rates, Or needy cousins never came to fright Or make him fume, or spoil his appetite. But still he was not, as the. saying goes, A very happy fellow, though a man Unapt to sign at sentimental woes, Or faint Tvnene'er he grew a little wan, Or had a colic, or a bleeding nosey Ox put his fingers in <the fryingpan, Or bruised his thins against .the washingtub; , . Then why unhappy? > That is just the rub. Perhaps he thought too much upon the days When with his little sister and his brother He ran and romped among his native braes; Perhaps he thought too much about his matber, With all her kind maternal words and ways, Or of his father, or 'of any other Beloved association far away; And thinking so he could not well be gay, Perhaps lie wished— and you may wish the same — To occupy a more exalted stertion ; Perhaps he nurs'd a brave but bootless aim To champion some tyrant-trodden nation, And win it back its freedom and its fame; Perhaps he felt his want of education - Would evermore debar him from the place Which Nature had intended he should grace. Or, after all, he may have had a wish 'X*o bs a flying comet of the night; Or, for variery, a flying iis-h, Or golden butterfly, io take delight In bnas and blossoms — a most dainty dish; Perhaps Tie wished — and now I may be right — To meet / maiden who would fill his breast With balm and calm an{t give his spirit xestC

—The Eternal Need. — 0 beauty, beauty, wheresoe'er you are, In lake or lea, in grove or garder bower, In sun or moon, or eoftly shining star. Or in -the floating comet of an hour, Or in the music sounding faint and iar, You rule us all with a resistless power; But though the dear ideal is most dear, The real is needful to the heart's good cheer. And when we fail to find it, even love Becomes a vapour of the inward sight; For though when Adam, guileless as a dove, Yet as an eagle strong, beheld the light, And felt that earth below and toearen above Were full of God, yet, turn where'er he might, He missed the thing ;of things to him— the human; And, seeing this, the Maker made the woman. —Siward Leaveth Arcadia.—And thus it has been always and will be With every proper man of woman born;v And thus it was that Siward, fancy-free, When all 'his lambs were marked and ewes were shorn, Hied to • certain city near the sea, • Whose merchants dealt in wool and. gold end corn: A goodly place, but rather damp and tame, And so we need not even name its name. And yefrit was with a most deep and keen Distress of heart he drew himself away, For tbat lone region unto* him had been. Gracious and great for many a night and day: Still like an Eden, matchless scene on scene, For all time pictured,- in his soul it lay ; Green woods, snow-clad, o'erbung with bluest skies, Forming the winter of the paradife. Then there were radiant scenes of summer time, ' With long warm days, and immemorial nights^ When earth, the soul, and heaven were all a-chime, " The moonlight lying on the wood and heights, ' Like God's own spirit spread o cr God s own clime ; Yet mixed with memories of those dear

delights, His heart bore, too, the burden of the woe Of strayed Bheei perishing in drifts of snow. Tbe great grass fires, too, wbioh in early spring Blazed miles abreast for many nignta and days, And which for his flockls sake he lit, to bring More juicy pastures forth from brakes «nd braes ; Tbe very dewdrops tbat were wont to cling To the green mosses of tbe wcodland ways, And even the wild-stream sounds and wildflower smells, . Went with him in bis soul with all their spells. So nobly mounted on bis brave strong steed, His traveller's kit strapt to bis saddJebows, His leal dog trotting onward in the lead, He left the place— he left his flock to browse In those dear glens, beneath a stranger s And, leaving, thrilled and throbbed with voiceless vows And benedictions, such as tbe young heart Vents when from childhocd's home it doth depart. For many and many a mile adown the route Of roaring rivers rode he lone and sad:^ Yet man is, more than the most aerial lute. Subtly responsive ; so be grew most glad As fair farms rose before him at the foou Of the bill country, and the farmer's lad San" in the fields; and every gentle sign Of woman's presence seemed r thing divine. Ah little does the townsman dream how strong And beautiful in import things like these Axe to ±l»«s social mortal ■u.-h.o 11-atll long Comniuniad with naught but hills ana streams and -trees; . For peering not for meanness or for wrong, God glimpses through each human thing He sees: And so felt Siward riding down and aown, Until he reached the bread and busy tovrn.

—He Meeteth His Affinity.—

There gracious friends with gleefulness did

greet The young newcomer ; there Isora Lee Bayed forth a sunshine than the sun's more

swset ; And I am sorry that I cannot be Precise in telling bow they cEunced to

At church, or play, or picnic by the sea ; Or whether they became acquainted, ratdier, Through that best n^edium of all, her father.

—They Fall irr Love.—

Her father was a good and gifted man,

And I would fain devote » verse or two To 'his fine merits; but my present plan

Is to disclose in language brief and true How this enchanting love affair began,

And this I shall without the least ado, By stating quietly, that it just arose Ax a quiet game of simple dominoes. They fell in love. Who would not fall in love, And sound the depths of tbat delightful passion, Which colours with the iris of tbe dove Full m*ny a life which otherwise were ashen? The very angels left the skies above

For love according to the human, fashion; So if t-liou wouldst 03 happy on the plan Of happy nature — love, and be a man. Yet see tbou to it tbat thy love is pure,

A nianly yearning, not that goatish lust, Which, like the badeful wildfire of the moor, "Lures many to destruction; do not trust Its ardent gieaming, for it will be sure

To leave tfaee lying in the mire or dust; But love, which is love truly, ie a star That guideth men to where the Immortal are.

— The Declaration. —

And s.o they feli in love, as I was saying, f When playing dominoes. The man of phlegm Perhaps may think they should have been a-maying, Or wreathing flowers into a diadem, Or near an alabaster fountain straying — I cannot say this thought occurred to

them — When that eternal passion came to thrill

them, And, Heaves knows, perhaps in time to kill

them. And when the game was over, there they

e?.t, Afraid to look each other in the face; But Siwaxd stroked and praised the family or.t,

And put the poker in its proper place; - Turned down the gas a little, too, whereat

Isor-o, with a mo£t becoming grace, But changing fitfully from red to white. Said, "Do you think there will ba rain to-

nigbtV" The question almost choied* her, fo«. her heart

Leapt to her mouth whene'er the words were uttered, While Siwerd seemed to get a sudden start. And looked exceedingly confused and fluttered; Then dear Isora shook in every part.^ , And almost fainted when her lover splut-

tered, "My love! my love!"- and caught ber in his

arms, ; And kissed her oft, and hung upon her charms : Charms that might lure an angel from- the skies; ■ Look at the head caught in a graceful beck, The fair full bosom heaving with the sighs Of love fresh-freed from "* every irksome check, And at the glad and grandly-glowing eyes, The loose, rich hair and .snowy-throated / neck ; And feel their power, as Siward felt thei» pswer, ; And be sublime, if only for an hour. j j — An Omen. — * Hours passed, night waned, and then the lovers parted To meet upon the morrow, which was Sundjay : And Siward said, at which Isora started, That he must leave the town again on Monday; — ' She must not grieve; their love should not be thwarted By chance, or change, or man, or Mts Grundy ; Yet as he spake, her taper, glimmering low, Was moth-extinguished: mean' it weal or woe? —The Lovers' Walk.— The morrow came, and Siward hied tc meet His lady-love, according to his vow; The day was beautiful and wore a sweet Insinuating emile upon its brow; The air they breathed, the 'ground beneath their feet, Felfc — as they feel to loveri, even now ; And when they reached the seaside and the sands, They took-, as lovers take, each other's bands. And so they walked and talked until they

••jr A mignty seal disporting on the beadh ; It never budged, but grinned and shook 'its paw, Whereat Isora lost her power of speech; But Siward ran and hit it on the jaw, And slit its gullet, saying he would teach It more becoming manners for the future ;— He would have made a very stern tutor. Espied they next a melancholy merman That sat and sighed beside the lonely shore ; He quoted Schiller in the purest German, And talked about a canker at his core; He aleo preached a- most impressive sermon On infidelity in love, and tore His curly hail-, and suddenly thereafter Departed in a fit of frantic laughter. And Heaven knows what more they might have seen

If they had only had the time to stay; But now the woods, though naturally green, Began to look a little dim and grey ; The sun had set, and here and there between

The floating clouds you might have caught the rp.y Of a stray star And so they turned to

traca Their journey homeward at a. pensive pace. The night was mild and still, and star on

Came out above them in the sweet blue skies ; And like c, vale that lieth far and far

The future beckoned; loving lips and eyes Met frequently; and there was naught to

The glad and golden moments. Paradise Thrilled in their thought*, yet at its core

their gladness "Was touched lTitr Bomchuij like a f»r-cff

sadness. At last they reached tbe town, -which was as stifj As though it were the very dead who slept Within the houses; then a, dying thrill

Of ming-'ed feelings through their bosoms crepl, And trembled at their troubled hearts until Each fell upon the other's neck and_ wept A few fr-it tears, sighed out a brokenhearted Unspeakable farewell, and, speechless, parted.

— A Reunion. — So sundered lived they till r year had passed with all its caiVs and sorrows, crimes and wrongs On its o'erburdened back, to join th« vast And motley multitudes that stand in throngs In dubious Limbo, waiting to be cast. Like Muiciber, the god who dealt in tongs And old volcanoes, to — we need not mind; Our business now is of another kind. It takes us to a pleasant country place, To which Isora' s worthy sire bad gone To lead a life of rural ease and grace, And where her own benignant beauty shone Like softened sunshine, and ber lovely face Grew lovelier with the scenes she gazed upon: —

And there, again united, youth and maid Saw Eden smiling «heresoe'er they strayed. — Tie Party.— It chanced to happen at that happy time That one of sweet Isora/s father's neighbours Thought of returning to his native clime. That he might slumber, after all his * labours," With the dear .partner of his early prime; And so his friends collected, all their tabors, And fifes, and fiddles, and got up a party, That his departure might be leal and hearty. Of course the fair laora and her sire Were duly cailed upon, .. and both invited, And the inviters kindly did enquire If Siw*rd would— <a~nd Siward was delighted. And so they went, all in their best attire,To grace the revel; but, I grieve to write it, Childe Siward, like a demon in the vapours, Electrified the company with his capers. Gone dancing mad, he traversed and he whirled And never thought of any stay or stop, But swung his partner by the waist and twirled Her round the room as though she were a top, Until they both grew giddy, and they swirled, And fell upon the flooring with a' flop; And - when a stander-by exclaimed, "Disgraoe!" He flung a cup of custard in his face. — Why and WhereforeA Amongst the gueots there was a wealthy boor, All ringed and scented like <a vain senora, And (hough he was as dusky as a Moor, And had a squinting eye, and only wore a Rough morning suit, yet with an air of sure And 'certain conquest he besieged Isora: ICow, was, it this, or was_ it wine or whisky, That made .our swain so frolicsome and frisky? —Folly and its Effects.— Whatte'er it was, it was a. fatal night To his wild heart and her he loved bo well; - For when. Isora. saw him in that plight, You scarce could blame her if /she did rebel Against the love of such a frantic wight; In short, his conduct on her spirit fell Like an eclipse upon the blessed sun Before the day has properly, begun^ Night .papee-d, morn came, and then the ' madcap tried To make atonement to the angried maid; But, dumb with shame and sorrow, she- replied Hardly at all to anything he said; He owned his folly frankly, naught denied ; But though she was too gentle to upbraid, She also was too human to- forego Her wounded pride at once, and showed him so. - ' So when night's darkness, like c dismal doom That stalketh in between two lovers fair. Stalked up between the earth and sky in gloom As gaunt with grimness as a wild beast's lair, t Young Siward, like c man back from the tomb, Arose and rode away in his despair; Yet with «. faintly flickering hope "to find In other scenes seme solace for his mind. — A Joyless Journey. — Forthward and eastward o'er the raw rough roads Of these pre-railwa; times he went his wp.y, Laden wirb heavy thoughts — his horse with loads Of heavy mvd — and wiih no guiding ray Save the diir lamplights of the rude abodes Which, far apart, along the journey lay: And when, at last, a- hostel hove in sight*, He drew' the rein and halted for the night. Kindly he tended both his dog and steed, Then drained a mighty mug of potent ale, And flung himeejf to bed to sleep — not feed A feverish faacy with its own sad tale; — For his was feeling of that etorniful speed Which, though it may not make its victim pale, Yet with its fury whelms 'him in the deeps Of sleeplike silences and deathlike sleeps. ! And so he slept like death, and with the morn Woke into silence not unlike his sleep; - Then rode forth eastward through a land, full lorn, Of unfenced ridges browsed by naught Have sheep: He rode so fast, too, that his dog, outworn, Dropt by the way, a> helpless hairy heap; Whereat, thereafter, Siward's heart was sore, As fOlf 01 a. comrade ; he would see no more. "Farewell, old friend," he murmured In his mind ; ! "Farewell, dear Fritz; I sometimes ufied thee ill - . When things unwished-for made the judgment blind, And anger overswayed the wiser will ; And now the thought of everything unkind I ever did to thee on plain or hill Cuts through and through me like a roughedged knife, For tbou hast faithful oeen for all thy life." So on they went more sadly than before, He and his Jessamy. Full many a mile • Lay wearily between them and the door Of the next inn; and Siward, to beguile The journey of its weariness, though sore And sick at heart, aang to his beast the while; Stroked her rioli neck, and fcopefl sic ne'er might be In such a broken-hearted plight as ao> — Tbe Sequel.— And thus for lhree long days their way they : beat j

Towards tbe far off city's busy streets; And there did Siward, after he had sent His good maro back to ber own rural beats. Betake himself to college, as a vent For all his passion's agonies and h&ats; And though his heart within 'him bled amain, He turned to study with a steady brain. No friends bad he to aid him in his toil. His friends were poor, and they were fas away ; ICo sire, no mother with hot gentle smile - To cheer him on and mitigate delay; No brother, sister — nothing to beguile The 'hours, that still would torture, ol their prey ; But circumstance, however stark or grim. Was not a thing to daunt "or conquer him. And she he loved still loved him, though" she tried • To drive his presence fron? ber heart and brain; But still, as something not to be denied,

His torturing idea would remain And mingle with her thoughts ; so oft . susi sighed

To hea-r his voice and. see his face again ;i But, knowing naught of this, he kept afar,' With her, with fortune and 1 himself at w*r. ■ So self-inclosed, ancr living far apart, And little likely je^ef to meet again, They &o their Avays } to learn how much 4ha heart

Owes to itself . of pleasure and of pain ; To learn, perhaps; that crosses at life's stai-fi Have sometimes more of blessing than of bane: And 1 *. <^"the joy of smiling, by and bye, At that of which, to-day, we fain would di«t For it is slander on the heart of man

And on its grand capacities to say That manly men -and vrholesome women can Love onl. once with thoroughness; each day Would show us clearly, did we choose to scan The world around us. something to benoy, This puling cant, which 'callow poets pass For truth upon the undisceming mass. This may young Siward end Isora fair Both live to realise with thankful hear is-* With hearts made larger even by the care < Born of the pride and of the bitter smarts Which now torment them, let may ye be« ware, O youthful lovers, of their passionate parts; For such as tread tbe paths which they have trod Surcharge the future and the grace of GodOctober, 1872.