The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Last West; and, Paolo's Virginia, by G. B. Warren

  October Daybreak on Boundary Bay
  The Last Arete
  The Great Divide
  Above the Clouds
  Winter Sunset in the Cascade Range
  Beside the Ocstall
  Jansen's Curse
  The Survey Cook
  A Raid on the Seal Rookeries
  The Coast of British Columbia
  Vancouver
  Victoria, B. C.

  To you who have lifted the veil of mists o'er-blown
  And gazed in the eyes of dawn when night had flown—
  Have felt in your hearts a thrill of sheer delight
  As you scanned the scene below from some alpine height—
  I extend this fleeting glimpse across a world
  Of forest and meadow land—at last unfurled—
  Through vistas of soaring peaks with frosted crest
  In the fiorded wonderland of this—last—west.

  A skyline bold and clear
    Of cold sharp corniced snow,
  Where, bulking huge, the mass of Baker's cone
    Shadows the world below.

  'Tis bright with promise now!
    That flood and field
  Still shrouded in the mystery of night,
    Will shortly be revealed.

  The wildfowl on the bay
    Call to the distant flight
  Of ducks, that swoop from out the realms of space,
    Seeking a place to light.

  Sounds through the waking hours
    The beating of countless wings,
  Faint voices floating through the upper air
    In softest whisperings.

  A blush of coming day
    Flooding the eastern sky,
  Fresh rosy Dawn climbing the rampart hills,
    Forces the night to fly:

  Then from his lair the sun
    Leaps forth. The fading gleam
  Of silver moon and silent stars is quenched.
    Day reigns once more supreme.

  Alpinist—
    Excelsior, there's nought we may not dare!
    Why, now, confess defeat, when plain in sight
    Looms the stern peak—to which we've toiled and fought
    Up many a mountain gorge and soaring height?
    It were a shame if we should now go back
    And, leaving all we've won, retrace our track.

    Undaunted by the circling mists we camped,
    Laid siege; while hail and snow went storming by,
    Assaulted through the brilliant mists; that wrapped
    A veil, impenetrable to the eye,
    Around the wastes of ice, the snowfields bare
    And craggy peaks that pierce the upper air.

    We scorned to own defeat, when lost to sight,
    'Mid cloud and snowstorm, was that summit cold;
    But started out the morn e're yet the sun
    The highest cornices had edged with gold.
    See now! the noonday glare reveals our fate
    Above a rampart white and sharp arete.

  Guide—
    Crevasses open-mouthed have reft the face
    Of brightly gleaming ice, that upward led.
    Their clear green depths a gap impassable present
    Across the glacier slope ahead;
    Save on yon steep and scintillating slope
    Which promises success to axe and rope.

  Alpinist—
    Roped man to man we'll scale the giddy height:
    Step after step cut up those slopes of snow
    That, gleaming spotless in the noonday light,
    Curve out of sight above and far below.
    What rumbled? (G.) From yon distant cliff was hurled
    An avalanche which shakes this snowy world.

  Guide—
    The rocks I've gained through chimneys rough and steep
    That crumble at a careless touch, and send
    A rattling train of rubble bounding down
    The icy slopes, which great crevasses rend.
    Re-entrant over here the mountain dips
    Into a gulf, which eddying mists eclipse.

    Perched on this tottering and steep arete,
    One hardly dares to even whisper low;
    Lest, crashing from their crumbling pedestals,
    The rotten crags through empty space will go
    Two thousand feet down, where the hard neve
    Is packed by ice that avalanched that way.

    I'll anchor fast, and hold the rope, that you
    By hand and foot and alpenstock may scale.
    A traverse of the skyline rocks we'll make
    And yon last gleaming slope of snow assail.
    It leads up to a virgin mountain's head,
    On which our feet will be the first to tread.

  The highest of a glacier covered range,
  Its proud and lofty crest at length hath bowed
  Before the bold attack of alpinists
  Undaunted by the steeps or storm or cloud;
  and all the dangers than in grim array
  The spirit of the mountain brought to play.

  What strange emotions fill my breast!
  What flitting shadows of unrest
  Sweep o'er me as I stand beside
  The Rocky Mountains' "Great Divide."

  That rustic arch, with letters bold
  Against the summit snowfields cold,
  Has power to wing my fancy far
  To this split streamlet's furthest bar.

  The icy flood is cleft in twain,
  Its waters never meet again;
  Far east and to the furthest west
  Those wavelets hurry without rest.

  The mind can hardly grasp such vast
  Extent of territory passed
  E're these two streams shall reach the sea,
  At different oceans to be free.

  Through valleys wide and fertile plain,
  Where yellow fields of waving grain
  Are garnered for the wide world's store,
  One stream flows to a distant shore.

  May be that harnessed it will drive
  The wheels which in some human hive
  Of industry are waiting for
  The power that it holds in store

  To saw the timber, thresh the grain
  And even haul the loaded train
  By energy electrical
  As though some wizard wove a spell.

  Such small beginnings mark this stream,
  It almost seems to be a dream
  That carries me in mind away
  Along its course to Hudson's Bay.

  Far down the other branch we roam
  By smiling lakes, and watch the foam
  Of rapid streams that flow between
  Fair orchard lands and meadows green.

  The silv'ry salmon leaps the falls;
  And everywhere insistent calls
  Arise from forest, stream and hill,
  To charm the sense or test the skill.

  Oft times by restlessness oppressed,
  I long to see that lonely crest;
  And once again to dream beside
  The arch, that's lettered "Great Divide."

[*]A watershed of the Rockies—a stream passing beneath an arch on the summit is divided, one part being directed eastward and the other westward.

  On the shores of a sea of mist
    I chanced to roam,
  Where sunlit the surface gleamed
    Whiter than foam.

  But the voice of the restless main
    Was absent there,
  For the billows that rolled along
    Were waves of air;

  And the isles of that silent sea
    Were mountain peaks
  That, far from the haunts of man,
    The wild goat seeks.

  O, that day above the clouds
    Was bright and fair!
  With pines and the sparkling snow
    Unsullied there;

  But, a thousand fathoms down
    A city street
  Was shrouded in sunless gloom
    Where shadows meet;

  It knew not the fairer day
    And matchless view;
  That snowfields gleamed above
    And skies were blue:

  That the clouds which gloomed below
    Were seas of light
  From another point of view
    At greater height.

  Picture a world of snowfields
  Aglow in the sunset light,
  Great fir trees snow-flake laden
  And broken clouds piled white;
  While bathed in a silver sheen
  The pines on a crest are seen.

  Would I could frame the language
  Worthy those sunset tints,
  Hued from saffron to coral,
  Aflame where the sunlight glints;
  And the clear steel blue of the sky
  Where the clouds had drifted by.

  The daylight slowly faded.
  Weakly mere words convey
  The ivory white of snowflakes,
  Decking the hills that day;
  And the softening yellow tone
  That fell from the sun god's throne.

  Far beyond wooded ridges
  Lit with a twilight ray,
  Sentinel like in the cloudland
  A nameless peak held sway;
  Keeping a silent guard
  O'er valleys by cloud wreaths barred.

  'Twas crowned with flaming colours
  Of sunset's fleeting hour;
  Giving its best expression
  To nature's lavish dower
  E're the ebbing tide of day
  Should fade from the world away.

  Then light melted softly to shadow
  And the blue of the sky turned grey,
  While a veil of deepening twilight
  Warned us to haste away,
  For the winter nights are bleak
  In the wilds by that lonely peak.

  I mused one day beside the Ocstall River
  Where trailing mists went drifting softly by;
  And waterfalls in thunderous voices calling,
  Their vaporous breath raised to a burdened sky.

  What mystic spell? what strange compelling passion
  Did hold the sons of Britain toiling there?
  What charm was there in that great lonely region
  Enticing them from distant lands, more fair?

  Fantastic cloud wreaths draped a sea of mountains:
  Forest and muskeg in the vales held sway;
  To win a fortune from those wild surroundings
  Men came, then could not from them break away.

  They tried the lands where everlasting sunshine
  Caressed lush fruits and kissed the waves at play;
  But no place gripped them like this western outpost
  Where men with large ambitions hewed their way.

  It was the challenge to the daring spirit
  Of vast resources in their native state.
  It was the lure of gold, romance of action,
  The chances of success where stakes were great.

  'Twas out upon a gold stampede,
  And Jan had always planned to lead.
  The man who has the greatest might,
  He surely must be in the right,
  Was part of Jansen's creed;
  For very skookum[1] was this man,
  Built on a most ambitious plan;
  But with a domineering trait,
  Would have his own, no other way;
  And often had been heard to say:
  "I'll be no 'also ran.'"
  The river trip he hoped to make
  With an old-timer nicknamed Jake,
  Who'd hired a canoe;
  And with a bunch of sourdoughs[2]
  Intended, e're the river rose
  In flood, to push on through.
  This man soon got himself disliked
  As up the rapid stream they piked
  And oft by rapids lined.
  His overbearing ways were met
  With keen expressions of regret
  He'd not been left behind.
  At length the crew a village saw
  Of Indians who had a store
  In goods where Jan did trade.
  The others knew their chance at last
  They could not get away too fast
  When off ashore he'd strayed.
  They threw his pack out on the bank,
  Their late companion's health they drank
  With hopes they'd never meet;
  But Jan, their move when he realized,
  Came hurrying greatly surprised,
  And flushed with angry heat.
  Some most profane remarks he made
  And said that he was not afraid
  To thrash the blooming crew,
  Their ancestors were not forgot,
  He hoped old Nick would make it hot
  For any that he knew.
  One parting curse did Jan call down,
  He hoped they all would surely drown
  Before they reached their goal;
  The waters be their winding sheet,
  That Hell would raise a double heat
  To welcome every soul.
  Then taking up his pack he set
  His face towards the trail that yet
  Along the river ran.
  But soon the blazes were no more,
  His path was barred by creeks, a score,
  Which now no bridges span.
  He felled the towering cottonwood,
  That graceful by the river stood,
  To bridge each torrent wide.
  But longest spans were swept away,
  By the wild waters in their play
  At the last creek he tried.
  So plunging in the torrent wild
  Which swept him helpless as a child,
  He braved its swollen tide.
  While raced along a branch he caught,
  That, waving from the shore long sought,
  Was like an arm outstretched.
  He pulled himself hand over hand
  Until his feet could feel the sand
  By eddying currents fetched.
  His pack was soaked with water through,
  There was no trail ahead he knew,
  But still kept on his way;
  And with determination strong
  Struggled the beach and cliffs along
  While held the light each day.
  At length he reached the little creek,
  The which he had set out to seek,
  And found some partners there.
  They had begun to pan the sand
  Which proved to be a golden strand
  At last to them laid bare.
  One day in camp the word went round
  That Jake and all his crew had drowned
  Between the canyon walls.
  Their staunch canoe was seen upturned
  Where white the boiling rapids churned
  Below the waterfalls.

  Small wonder if Jan's conscience woke
  And if that moral guardian spoke
  In accusation strong
  Against the words he had let fall,
  Beyond the power of recall,
  To get revenge for wrong.

  Deep in the Sunset Valley
  Ill fortune had detained;
  Bacon and beans were finished;
  Of flour, none remained.

  But now with tents and blankets,
  Facing the backward track,
  All hands were feeling cheerful
  Save the cook—his looks were black.

  They'd packed across the mountains
  Where trails were never known,
  Through leagues of heavy timber
  And rock slides overgrown;

  Had bridged the swollen torrents
  By felling trees across;
  And scrambled through the canyons
  That walled the river's course.

  The horses of the pack train
  Had died in dark despair
  When brought to face the prospect
  Of using goat trails there;

  So man a beast of burden
  Himself was forced to be;
  The crew packed grub and blankets
  And the cook the cutlery,

  The dishpans and the kettles,
  The basins and a pot,
  A battered old reflector,
  Cups, bowls and plates, Great Scott!

  Cymbals and drums weren't in it
  When cook did have a spill;
  The crash of warlike music
  Echoed from hill to hill

  As down his pack came bounding,
  Spurning the canyon walls,
  Scattering pots and dishes,
  Leaping the waterfalls.

  The packers looked in terror
  To see the cook come too
  As past their dizzy erie
  The clanging luggage flew;

  When anxiously they hailed him,
  The cook, he only swore:
  "If I survive this picnic
  So help me—nevermore."

  The tale was told by a hunter bold
    Of a sealing schooner's crew,
  Of a midnight raid where the breakers played
    On reefs that the offing strew.

  "In Behring Sea they tell," said he,
    "How Hansen, in the 'Adele,'
  Waiting for night, with never a light,
    Dared the reefs and ocean swell.

  "A rascal bold, in misdeeds grown old,
    He had raided far and wide;
  But never before in the sealers' lore
    Had the Pribilof[1] reefs been tried.

  "But an Aleut[2], by his sealskin boot
    And the grave of his father, swore
  For a keg of booze and a pair of shoes
    To sell their secret, and more.

  "So Hansen knew to a yard or two
    Where the hidden ledges ran;
  And the breakers' roar on the reefs and shore
    Were guides to the daring man.

  "The trailing kelp and a flash might help
    Where the phosphorus burned bright,
  For the deed was done past set of sun
    When the stars were hid from sight.

  "The schooner's kedge to a rocky ledge,
    By a hempen cable tied,
  With silent stealth, for the raiders' health,
    Was lowered overside.

  "Then with muffled oars they reached the shores
    Near a crowded rookery;
  Where the voice of seals, in loud appeals,
    Drowned the moan of wind and sea.

  "There were clubbed ten score and some dozens more
    Of the seals which in panic came
  Like frightened sheep before the sweep
    Of the raiders' far-flung chain;

  "For they took their stand, where the rocky land
    Slopes down to the surf-worn beach,
  To intercept the herd that swept
    Like a torrent, the sea to reach.

  "Their dories lay in a tiny bay
    On a bit of sandy shore;
  And they loaded seals by heads or heels
    Till the boats would hold no more.

  "On many a trip to the little ship
    The skiffs went back and fore,
  Till she streamed with blood in a crimson flood
    From the deck to the cabin door.

  "The seals were piled in confusion wild
    On deck, by a seaman there;
  While the hold was stored and the cabin floored
    Whenever he'd time to spare,

  "For they had to sail before the pale
    Light came of a breaking day;
  Lest the sealing guard should follow hard
    And capture them with their prey."

  "In the dawn's pale light that followed the night
    The sealing guard went round;
  But the bloody turf, by the edge of the surf,
    Was the only sign they found;

  "For a curtain fell on the Behring swell
    And hid the schooner's flight;
  But they lay the blame on Hansen's name
    For the lawless deeds that night."

  On the far stretching coast of B. C.,
    Where the hills and the seas interlace,
  Is a cruising ground yet unexcelled,
    Where the yachtsman can loiter or race.

  And for those that of danger a spice
    Or variety's pleasures would know,
  There's a limitless sea to the west
    Where the free ocean breezes do blow.

  There are harbours and fiords on a coast
    That is thousands of miles in extent;
  And new scenes that its windings unfold
    Fill those that explore with content.

  Vancouver, Vancouver,
    Vancouver we'll sing all the way.
  Far away we may roam, but Vancouver's our home
    We remember, wherever we stray.

  Vancouver, Vancouver,
    In summer time all the day long
  To sea we will roam, for afloat we're at home
    So we sway on our halyards with song.

  Vancouver, Vancouver,
    The open gateway of the West.
  Her harbour's the port where vessels resort
    Of pleasure or profit in quest.

  Vancouver, Vancouver,
    Her mountains a wonderland hold,
  Where the Lions on guard, carved in rock grey and hard,
    Have stood sentry for ages untold.

  Vancouver, Vancouver,
    Of seamen intrepid we'll sing:
  Vancouver and Cook, great explorers, who took
    Possession in name of their king.

  Bud of England grafted
    On a western tree,
  Favoured by the breezes
    Of a temperate sea.

  Roses in the gardens
    Greet thy Christmastide,
  Broom upon the headlands
    Gilds the ocean side.

  In thy dreamy moments
    Thou didst plan to be
  Queen upon the islands
    By the western sea.

A SPRING PHANTASY

SCENE I.

SEASHORE AT THE MOUTH OF A CREEK

Paolo—
  Heart free, care free and free to roam am I
  Wherever fancy leads beneath the sky.
  I'll rest awhile and watch the kelpies play,
  They will be sporting on the sands to-day.
  Perhaps they'll tell me what my heart desires
  To know, and Cupid's dart inspires.

  Join with us, dance with us, prance with us
  Over the sea.
  Roam with us, flee with us, be with us
  Where we may be

  Sing with us, walk with us, talk with us
  Carelessly gay.
  Come with us, play with us, stray with us
  Where we may stray.

Paolo—
Pray, kelpies, tell me what you find of joy,
In what of work or play your hours employ.

Kelpies' Chorus—
  You can sing of the lakes and mountains
  And the freedom of open plains;
  But for spaces wide and untrammelled
  The ocean alone remains.

  In the cradle of ocean surges
  We rock to heart's content.
  We've played on countless beaches
  And roam the sea's extent.

1st Kelpie—
  The sights that we view on our travels
  Are marvels that fill with delight;
  But chief is the phosphorescence
  Of the foaming seas, at night.

Paolo—
I wish you would tell of those flashes
That are such a wonderful sight.

1st Kelpie—
  Sparkling and darkling, dust of the milky way,
  Shifting and drifting, firefly legions at play;
  Fading and glowing, lights of a starry maze,
  Coming and going, drift of a luminous haze.

  Tangling and spangling the waves with a wealth of light,
  Spraying and straying silently through the night;
  Dusting and flashing a light in our yeasty wake,
  Glowing and splashing wherever the waves we break.

  Lacing and tracing the path of the evening breeze,
  Blazing and raising a light on the breaking seas;
  Ebbing and flowing, an ocean of liquid light,
  Finding and showing the reefs in the blackest night.

Paolo—
There's much in what you say appeals to me;
What else may you have learned along the margin of the sea?

1st Kelpie—
  There is a cove, secret from passing eyes,
  Beautiful as a dream of Paradise;
  Where, sheltered from the stormy waves that stray
  Unfettered down the sea's wide open way,
  The seaman oftentimes doth moor his barque
  In shaded bays, peaceful by day or dark.
  For there the salty tide finds calm repose,
  Sheltered from every boisterous wind that blows;
  And ripples, like faint shadows on a glass,
  Play lightly where the fitful breezes pass.
  Elsewhere the mirrored shores inverted stand,
  Trees foot to foot, hand clasping hand;
  And all the flitting clouds their faces see,
  Till sea and sky seem one in harmony.
  In that well guarded spot few sounds intrude
  To mar the quiet of its solitude.
  The beat of surges at the entrance seems
  A distant murmur from the land of dreams;
  While crickets chirruping and song birds gay,
  From valley and from hillside sound their lay.

  Four miles of coastline do those arms surround
  Of cliff and delta, wood and open ground;
  Where stately fir and cedar trees are seen
  In contrast with the lighter shades of green;
  While on the rocks thick moss and lichen grow,
  And rough arbutus shrubs their shadows throw.

  When sunset edges all the clouds with gold,
  And sea and shore with jewelled wealth untold,
  Those rocky cliffs a fitting setting form
  To hold that gem of ocean (safe in storm);
  And changing lights, warm and elusive, wear
  To match the shading of the sea and air.

A maid lives there, who often roams this way;
We're here to greet her when she comes to-day.

Kelpies—
  Virginia, come and play with us awhile;
  Come, be our queen and on our revels smile.
  Or if we may but help you o'er the stream,
  Our labours shall a moment's frolic seem.

Virginia—
  Kelpies, too long you've roamed on mischief bent:
  Too long you've made the sky your nightly tent.
  I've oft been warned to shun your careless way
  And from your pranks and revels warned to stay.
  I dare not try to cross the swollen tide
  Unless some stronger arm is close beside.

Permit my arm to be this guide and stay:
Pray give me leave to help you on your way.

Virginia—
  Kind sir, if you will take me by the hand,
  I'll thank you to assist to that far strand.
  No—Don't you lift me up—I didn't mean—
  Well—If you must—

Paolo—
  Virginia, did I hear the kelpies say?
  Yes, that's my name. What is your own, I pray?
  Call me Paolo, and if I may be
  Of any further help fair maid to thee,
  Allow me to attend you on your way.

Kelpies—
  Join with us, dance with us, prance with us
  Over the sea.
  Roam with us, flee with us, be with us
  Where we may be.

Paolo, turning from looking after Virginia—
  I'm in no mood to join your frolics now;
  Perhaps some other day you'll show me how
  You ride the combers on the ocean swell.
  I must be going now, Kelpies farewell.

SCENE II.

WINTER LANDSCAPE

[Paolo wandering disconsolate on snowshoes—Frosties bobbing up and down behind bushes and snowdrifts.]

Paolo—
  What goblins, what strange forms are these I see?
  I thought the haunts of men and sprites to flee
  And far from every human habitation
  Find solace for my grief mid desolation.

Stand forth yon elf and speak, that I may know
These are no tricks that on my fancies grow.

[Frosties all dance out on the snow—Master Frosty steps forward with greeting:]

M. F.—
  I'm the master of the Frosties' band,
  On outpost duty from the Arctic land;
  You need not fear,
  'Tis friends are here.
  Your lonely sorrow we can understand,
  And would in sympathy just clasp your hand.
  If for your grief
  You find relief
  In telling us the cause of all your woe,
  Your confidence we will respect, I know;
  And we'll be true
  As skies are blue.

Paolo—
  It is a story of a winsome maid
  That yester eve across my pathway strayed.
  That I was shy I can't deny;
  But if it will not weary you to hear,
  I'll try and tell you what I found so dear,
  When o'er a stream
  As in a dream
  I helped Virginia to the further shore,
  And lost my heart to her for evermore.

Paolo—
  The mist with pearls had beaded
  Each wayward strand of hair;
  And the light in her eyes was like sunshine.
  Would I had asked her there!

  Refrain—
  Last night my heart was all aglow,
  I loved, I loved Virginia so;
  But wintry dawn has brought despair
  Of ever winning maid so fair.

Frosties' Chorus—
  Last night his heart was all aglow,
  Last night he loved Virginia so;
  But wintry dawn has brought despair
  Of ever winning maid so fair.

Paolo—
  And now when days seem dreary,
  And hope begins to wane,
  My thoughts run back and I wonder—
  Will we ever meet again.

  Ever my heart is yearning
  For a voice that is far away:
  For a smile that is bright and cheering
  As sunshine and waves at play.

Paolo—
  What errand brings you out amid the snow?
  Perchance you've lost your way, rash Cupid. (C.) No.
  The harbinger of spring to lovers true,
  I started out while yet the snowflakes flew.

Cupid—
  Let not your drooping spirits fail, faint heart
  Did never yet assume that valiant part
  That finds a way in spite of what befall
  And wins at length to beauty's citadel.

Paolo—
Thanks, Cupid, for your words of lofty cheer;
My heart responds, I see my pathway clear.

  I'll take Virginia in my arms and kiss her
  On lips and cheek and brow;
  I'll tell her how I love her, miss her,
  And when, and why, and how.

  I'll draw my darling to my heart and hold her
  In fond and close embrace;
  I'll whisper softly how I've longed to fold her
  In all her girlish grace.

  I'll look into her eyes, their love light showing,
  Small need of words we'll know;
  For tender glances sprung from hearts aglowing,
  With meaning overflow.

Cupid—
Such sentiments as these I quite approve:
I'm hopeful for the outcome of your love.

Cupid (turning to Frosties)—
Who are these furry folk that round us stand?
They seem like members of the Frosties' band.

Frosties (in chorus)—
  We are the elves of the Northern Light,
  Of the ice blink and the snow;
  We deck the moss with a silver floss,
  And make the frost flowers grow.

  We place the fetters on stream and rill
  And encase the lakes and seas:
  We spread a carpet o'er vale and hill
  And drape the leafless trees.

Cupid—
  Won't you just tell dear Frosties
  In the language of song to-night
  Of those beauties and silent wonders
  That dwell in the Northern Light.

  Sing of some thrilling vision
  Of those beams in endless train,
  Like the bars of a thousand searchlights;
  Sing to us Frosties again.

Master Frosty—
  Across the starry arches of the heavens
  Like mighty spokes of a revolving wheel;
  Or organ pipes that grouped in stately silence
  Await some master's touch to wake their peal;

  The Northern Lights had strayed far down the vistas
  Of mellow air that mark the temperate zone;
  Their searchlight beams above the northern skyline
  A magic arch of changing lights had thrown.

  They marched across the sky in long procession:
  From east to west their standards were unfurled,
  Summoning visions of the Arctic winter
  And whalers prisoned in a frozen world.

  Then formed a tent, across the starry heavens,
  Woven of interlacing beams of light
  Flung lightly o'er the arches which supported,
  High overhead, the canopy of night.

  Once more a wide and undulating archway
  Expressed in quivering jets of frosty flame,
  Against the background of the midnight shadows,
  With play of countless brilliant flashes, came;

  While dark below flowed on the silent ocean:
  An anchored barque swayed slowly on the swell.
  And here and there a phosphorescent glimmer
  Showed where the trailing seaweed rose and fell.

Cupid—
  I thank you, Frosties, for your song and story
  About the Northern Lights in all their glory;
  But time is hasting on, I must be going.
  The sun through lengthened days is warmly glowing.
  Farewell Paolo too: what shall I say
  When I shall meet your maiden on my way?

Paolo—
  Haste, Cupid; haste: fly forth on rapid wing
  Bearing your dainty bow and feathered darts;
  And with the graceful practise of your arts
  Whisper into my darling's ear, or sing
  The sweetest messages that love can bring;
  And weave such tender dreams as spring imparts
  Where youth and beauty know each others hearts
  And feel the thrill that from such joy can spring.
  Sweet cherub, when you wing your arrow's flight,
  Speed it away with thoughts of love from me;
  And when it finds the heart that beats with mine,
  Full welcome to that breast I know 'twill be.
  When you reveal my message in love's light
  It's: (Dearest will you be my valentine).

Cupid—
This errand suits me well, I'll not delay;
But to the land of flowers will wing my way.

Frosties' Chorus—
  We are glad to have made your acquaintance
  And wish you had longer to stay;
  We are glad, we must say, to have met you,
  And wish you good luck on your way.

    Farewell, my Cupid,
    Love speed you on your way.
    Farewell, dear Cupid,
    And au-revoir we'll say.

  'Tis the time of the northward migration
  And ahead of the birds we must fly
  To where days are of endless duration;
  So in chorus we bid you good-bye.

    Farewell, my Cupid,
    Love speed you on your way.
    Farewell, dear Cupid,
    And au-revoir we'll say.

Farewell to you, farewell to all, farewell to-day;
Paolo, Cupid, Frosties each farewell must say.

SCENE III.

SPRING LANDSCAPE

[Virginia sitting on a bank of grass and spring flowers, with a band of fairies dancing around her in a ring.]

Fairies (in Chorus)—
  Spring is coming, hear the humming
  Of the bumble bees;
  Life is waking, buds are breaking,
  Love is in the breeze.

  Refrain—
    Fairies sing for the spring
    Draweth near;
    Mirth and song now belong
    To the year.

  Birdies wooing, ring doves cooing
  From each budding bough.
  All things mating, no one waiting,
  Love is calling now.

  Larks are singing, swallows winging
  North, their rapid flight.
  Winter's ending, spring is sending
  Warmth and love and light.

Virginia—
  What strange emotions fill this breast?
  What flitting shadows of unrest
  Disturb me so?
  I have not ceased to long and dream
  Since I was lifted o'er that stream
  By Paolo.

  In strong arms' clasp what can there be
  To thrill the heart in fancy free
  And leave behind
  A joy that is akin to pain,
  A longing to be held again
  By arms entwined?

Cupid—
Good morning to you all, a fairy ring
Delights my heart; I'll wait and hear you sing.

Virginia—
We're glad you're back, you should avoid the snows
Dear careless boy; some day you'll freeze your toes.

Virginia—
  No, don't you shoot your arrow; 'tisn't fair!
  You've learned too much already, spare oh spare
  My heart from further pain you cruel boy;
  What balm have you for wounds that peace destroy?

Cupid—
  Forbid the thought of Cupid causing pain;
  Nought else I seek but bringing joy again.
  I have a secret message to unfold
  To you, the sweetest lover ever told.
  I'll whisper softly in your dainty ear,
  So soft that even fairies will not hear.

Virginia—
  Oh Cupid! (C.) How you blush, your burning cheek
  Tells plainer still than even lips can speak
  Of tenderness for Paolo that glows
  Within your heart, and now quite overflows.

Fairies—
  Blush of the early morning
  Heralds the coming day,
  Heralds the beam of sunshine
  Chasing the dark away.

  Refrain—
    Blushing, blushing,
    Roses of deepest dye;
    Flushing, flushing
    Red as the sunlit sky.

  Blushes those cheeks suffusing,
  Cupid's enchantments prove;
  Prove that the little archer
  Whispers to you of love.

Fairies—
  Paolo here at last!
  Where has he been in hiding?
  He ought to be ashamed,
  But we must not be chiding.

Paolo—
I'm glad to find you all so bright and gay,
Please, fairies, sing before you run away.

Fairy—
  We've played so long, the hours of morn will pass
  E're we can sip the dewdrops from the grass
  And glean the jewels from the lily's cup.
  The sunbeams now are gathering them up.

  Then we must weave some garments for our queen.
  No lighter gossamer was ever seen
  Than spider web woven by fairy hands
  To wear when dancing on the moonlit sands.

  So now good-bye, we all must skip away;
  (We'll take dear Cupid with us, if we may,
  To catch the butterflies and paint their wings.)
  We wish you all the joy that springtime brings,

Paolo, turning to Virginia—
'Tis thoughts of you have sped me on my way;
Virginia, dear, I seek your hand to-day.

Paolo—
  Deep in your eyes are glowing
  Lights that are soft and true;
  While in their centre mirrored
  Is the love that I feel for you.

  Refrain—
    Though but reflections
    Mirrored in loving eyes,
    Such pretty fancies
    Deepen our glad surprise.

  Love lights so true and tender,
  Framing my picture there,
  Rival in warmth and splendour
  Flashes from jewels rare.

Virginia—
  My love had wildly fluttered to be free,
  It beat its wings against the prison bars;
  But now I know it yearned but unto thee
  Of all beneath the sun and silent stars.

  It sought with passion's ardency to reach
  Some haven wherein it could welcome rest;
  It only needed Cupid's dart to teach,
  The goal it sought for was within your breast.

Paolo—
  Your lips, for kisses ripe,
  In sweetest lines are laid;
  You lift your face to mine
  Unblushing, unafraid.

  For love has confidence
  And nought but love repays
  The sweet confiding trust
  Your nestling touch conveys.

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