Read Ebook: The Mistress of the Manse by Holland J G Josiah Gilbert

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Ebook has 534 lines and 25776 words, and 11 pages

Behind the fragrant urn, she poured The nectar of the morn's repast; But fairer lady, fonder lord, In happier hall ne'er broke their fast With sweeter bread, at prouder board.

And then they rose with common will, And sought the parlor, cool and dim. "Sing, love!" he said. "The birds grow still, And wait with me to hear your hymn." She swept a low, preluding trill--

A spray of sound--across the keys That felt her fingers for the first; And then, from simplest cadences, A reverent melody she nursed, And gave it voice in words like these:

"From full forgetfulness of pain, From joy to opening joy again, With bird and flower, and hill and tree, We lift our eyes and hands, to thee, To greet thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth

"That thou dost bathe our souls anew With balm and boon of heavenly dew, And smilest in our upward eyes From the far blue of smiling skies, We bless thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!

"For human love and love divine, For love of ours and love of thine, For heaven on earth and heaven above-- To thee and us twin homes of love-- We thank thee, Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!

"Oh dove-like wings, so wide unfurled In brooding calm above the world! Waft us your holy peace, and raise The incense of our morning praise Up to our Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth!"

Full fleetly sped the morning hours; Then, wide upon the country round A tumult of melodious powers In tumult of melodious sound Burst forth from all the village towers.

With blow on blow, and tone on tone, And echoes answering everywhere-- Like bugles from the mountains blown-- Each sought to whelm the burdened air, And make the silence all its own.

In broad, sonorous, silver swells The air was billowed like the sea; And listening ears were listening shells That caught the Sabbath minstrelsy, And sang it with the singing bells.

The billows heaved, the billows broke, The first wild burst went down amain; The music fell to slower stroke, And in a rhythmic, bold refrain The great bells to each other spoke.

Oh bravely bronze gave forth his word, And sharply silver made reply, And every tower and turret stirred With sounding breath and converse high, Or paused with waiting ear, and heard.

And long they talked, as friend to friend; Then faltered to their closing toll, Whose long, monotonous repetend, From every music-burdened bowl Poured the last drop, and brought the end!

The chapel's chime fell slow and soft, And throngs slow-marching to its knoll From village home and distant croft, With careful feet and reverent soul Pressed toward the open door, but oft

Turned curious and expectant eyes Upon the Manse that stood apart. There in her quiet, bridal guise Fair Mildred sat with shrinking heart; While Philip, bold and over wise,

And knowing naught of woman's ways, Smiled at her fears, and could not guess How one so armored in his praise, And strong in native loveliness, Could dread to meet his people's gaze.

He could not know her fine alarm When at his manly side she stood, And, leaning faintly on his arm-- A dainty slip of womanhood-- Walked forth where every girlish charm

Was scanned with prying gaze and glance, Among the slowly moving crowd That, greedy of the precious chance, Read furtively, but half aloud, The pages of their new romance.

"A child!" And Mildred caught the word. "A plaything!" And, another voice: "Fine feathers, and a Southern bird!" And still one more; "A parson's choice!" And trembling Mildred overheard.

These from the careless or the dull-- Gossips at best; at wisest, dolts; And though her quickened ear might cull From out their whispered thunderbolts A "lovely!" and a "beautiful!"

And though sweet mother-faces smiled, And bows were given with friendly grace, And many a pleasant little child Sought sympathy within her face, Her aching heart was not beguiled.

Alone within the pastor's pew, And prayed for self-forgetfulness With deep humility, she knew She gave her figure and her dress To careful eyes with closer view.

At length she raised her head, and tossed A burden from her heart, and brain. She would have love at any cost Of weary toil and patient pain, And rightful ease and pleasure lost!

They could not love her for his sake; They would not, and her heart forgave. Why should a woman stoop to take The poor endowment of a slave, And like a menial choose to make

Her master's mantle half her own? They loved her least who loved him most: They envied her her little throne! He who was cherished by a host Was hers by gift, and hers alone,

And she would prove her woman's right To hold the throne to which the king Had called her, clothing her with white; And never would she show her ring To win a loving proselyte!

These were the thoughts and this the strife That through her kindling spirit swept, And wrought her purposes of life; And powers that waked and powers that slept Within the sweet and girlish wife.

Sprang into energy intense, At touch of an inspiring chrism That fell on her, she knew not whence, And lifted her to heroism Which wrapped her wholly, soul and sense.

Meanwhile, through all the vaulted space The organ sent its angels out; And up and down the holy place They fanned the cheeks of care and doubt, And touched each worn and weary face

With beauty as their wings went by: Then sailed afar with peaceful sweep, And, calling heavenward every eye, Evanished into silence deep-- The earth forgotten in the sky!

Then by the sunlight warmly kissed, Far up, in rainbow glory set, Rayed round with gold and amethyst, She saw upon the great rosette The Saviour's visage, pale and trist.

"Oh Crown of Thorns!" she softly breathed; "Oh precious crown of love divine! Oh brow with trickling life enwreathed! Oh piercing thorns and crimson sign! I hold you mine in love bequeathed.

"But not for sake of these or thee! I must win love as thou hast won. The thorns are mine, and all must see, In sacrifice, and service done, The loving Lord they love in me."

Then, through a large and golden hour She listened to the golden speech Of one who held the priceless dower Of love and eloquence, that reach And move the hearts of men with power.

Ah poor the music of the choir That voiced the Psalter after him! And strong the prayer that, touched with fire, Flamed upward, past the seraphim, And wrapped the throne of his desire!

She watched and heard as in a dream, When, in the old, familiar ground Of sacred truth, he found his theme, And led it forth, until it wound Through meadows broad--a swollen stream

That flashed and eddied in the light, And fed the grasses at its edge, Or thundered in its onward might O'er interposing weir and ledge, And left them hidden in the white;

While on it pressed, and, to the eye, Grew broader, till its breadth became A solemn river, sweeping by, That, quick with ships and red with flame, Reached far away and kissed the sky!

Strong men were moved as trees are bowed Before a swift and sounding wind; And sighs were long and sobs were loud, Of those who loved and those who sinned, Among the deeply listening crowd.

And Mildred, in the whelming tide Of thought and feeling, quite forgot That he who thus had magnified His office, held a common lot With her, and owned her as his bride.

But when, at length, the thought returned That she was his in plighted truth, And she with humbled soul discerned That, though her youth was given to youth, And love by love was fairly earned,

She could not match him wing-and-wing Through all his broad and lofty range, And feared what passing years might bring No change for good, but only change That would degrade her to a thing

Of homely use and household care, And love by duty basely kept-- She bowed her head upon the bare Cold rail that hid her face, and wept, And poured her passion in a prayer.

"Oh Father, Father!" thus she prayed: "Thou know'st the priceless boon I seek! Before my life, abashed, dismayed, I stand, with hopeless hands and weak, Of him and of myself afraid!

"Teach me and lead me where to find, Beyond the touch of hand and lip, That vital charm of heart, and mind Which, in a true companionship, My feebler life to his shall bind!

"His ladder leans upon the sun: I cannot climb it: give me wings! Grant that my deeds, divinely done, May be appraised divinest things, Though they be little every one.

"His stride is strong; his steps are high May not my deeds be little stairs That, counted swift, shall keep me nigh, Till at the summit, unawares, We stand with equal foot and eye?

"If further down toward Nature's heart His root is struck, commanding springs In whose deep life I have no part, Send me, on recompensing wings, The rain that gathers where thou art!

"Oh give me vision to divine What he with delving hand explores! Feed me with flame that shall refine To finest gold the rugged ores His strong hands gather from the mine!

"O dearest Father! May no sloth, Or weakness of my weaker soul, Delay him in his kingly growth, Or hold him meanly from the goal That shines with guerdon for us both!"

Then all arose as if a spell Had been dissolved for their release, The while the benediction fell Which breathed the gentle Master's peace On all the souls that loved him well.

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