Part 25

But sudden round a headland The lake would sweep again, And voices from a village Would meet us with their strain.

Thus all the day we glided, Until the Vesper bell Gave to the day, at sunset, Its sweet and soft farewell.

Then back again we glided Upon our homeward way, When twilight wrapped the waters And the mountains with its gray.

But brief the reign of twilight, The night came quickly on; The dark brow o'er the mountains, Star-wreathed, brightly shone.

And down thro' all the shadows The star-gleams softly crept, And kissed, with lips all shining, The wavelets ere they slept.

The lake lay in a slumber, The shadows for its screen, While silence waved her sceptre Above the sleeping scene.

The spirit of the darkness Moved, ghost-like, everywhere; Wherever starlight glimmered, Its shadow, sure, fell there.

The lone place grew more lonely, And all along our way The mysteries of the night-time Held undisputed sway.

Thro' silence and thro' darkness We glided down the tide That wound around the mountains That rose on either side.

No eyes would close in slumber Within our little bark; What charmed us so in daylight So awed us in the dark.

Upon the deck we lingered, A whisper scarce was heard; When hearts are stirred profoundest, Lips are without a word.

"Let's say the Chaplet," softly A voice beside me spake. "Christ walked once in the darkness Across an Eastern lake,

"And to-night we know the secret That will charm Him to our side: If we call upon His Mother, He will meet us on the tide."

So we said the beads together, Up and down the little bark; And I believe that Jesus met us, With His Mother, in the dark.

And our prayers were scarcely ended When, on mountain-top afar, We beheld the morning meeting With the night's last fading star.

And I left the lake; but never Shall the years to come efface From my heart the dream and vision Of that strange and lonely place.

____ February 1, 1873.

"Peace! Be Still"

Sometimes the Saviour sleeps, and it is dark; For, oh! His eyes are this world's only light, And when they close wild waves rush on His bark, And toss it through the dead hours of the night.

So He slept once upon an eastern lake, In Peter's bark, while wild waves raved at will; A cry smote on Him, and when He did wake, He softly whispered, and the sea grew still.

It is a mystery: but He seems to sleep As erst he slept in Peter's waved-rocked bark; A storm is sweeping all across the deep, While Pius prays, like Peter, in the dark.

The sky is darkened, and the shore is far, The tempest's strength grows fiercer every hour: Upon the howling deep there shines no star -- Why sleeps He still? Why does He hide His power?

Fear not! a holy hand is on the helm That guides the bark thro' all the tempest's wrath; Quail not! the wildest waves can never whelm The ship of faith upon its homeward path.

The Master sleeps -- His pilot guards the bark; He soon will wake, and at His mighty will The light will shine where all before was dark -- The wild waves still remember: "Peace! be still."

____ Rome, 1873.

Good Friday

O Heart of Three-in-the evening, You nestled the thorn-crowned head; He leaned on you in His sorrow, And rested on you when dead.

Ah! Holy Three-in-the evening He gave you His richest dower; He met you afar on Calvary, And made you "His own last hour".