How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, The vale with peace and sunshine full, Where all the happy people walk, Decked in their homespun flax and wool; Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid, with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume; While every garment's gentle stir The pastor came; his snowy locks Then from his patriot tongue of flame In face of death he dared to fling Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; A moment there was awful pause- And now before the open door The warrior priest had ordered soThe enlisting trumpet's sudden roar Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er, Its long reverberating blow. So loud and clear, it seemed the ear Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, The great bell swung as ne'er before. And every word its order flung From off its jubilant iron tongue Was, "War! WAR! WAR!" "Who dares?"-this was the patriot's cry, For her to live, for her to die!" A hundred voices answered, "I!" THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN-BUILDER BY JULIA C. R. DORR Day by day the Organ-builder in his lonely chamber wrought; Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought; Till at last the work was ended; and no organ voice so grand Ever yet had soared responsive to the master's magic hand. Ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groom and bride, Who, in God's sight were well-pleasing, in the church stood side by side, Without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play, And the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray. He was young, the Organ-builder, and o'er all the land his fame Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rushing flame. All the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled. So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding-day was set: Happy day-the brightest jewel in the glad year's coronet! But when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely bride Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart swelled high with pride. "Ah!" thought he, "how great a master am I! When the organ plays, How the vast cathedral-arches will reecho with my praise!" Up the aisle the gay procession moved. The altar shone afar, With every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star. But he listened, listened, listened, with no thought of love or prayer, For the swelling notes of triumph from his organ standing there. All was silent. Nothing heard he save the priest's low monotone, And the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor of fretted stone. Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God was pleased with him. Who had built the wondrous organ for His temple vast and dim! Whose the fault then? Hers-the maiden standing meekly at his side! Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to himhis bride. Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth; On that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth. Far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name: For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and shame. Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day. Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray; Thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beautiful and good; Thought of his relentless anger, that had cursed her womanhood; Till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all com plete, And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet. Ah! how throbbed his heart' when, after many a weary day and night, Rose his native towers before him, with the sunset glow alight! |