The Parting and the Meeting: A Story of the War, a Poem

PARTING AND THE MEETING.

A STORY OF THE WAR.

BY ALFRED OSMOND.

In a peaceful, western valley, where a race of heroes dwell, Lived a fair and queenly maiden named Aurora Lily Bell. Nature blessed this western lily with a sweet, celestial face. Gently poised her chosen spirit, drew her form in lines of grace.

Strewed her path with thornless roses, pressed her wine of life as sweet As the nectar drunk by fairies, when their queens and princes meet. — Handsome heroes loved the maiden fairy-like she wove her spell 'Round the great, the strong, the noble—sweet Aurora Lily Bell.

But the most romantic story that her lovers came to tell Did not win the chaste affection of Aurora Lily Bell. One by one her lovers vanished from the fairy's sylvan dell They were all unkindly banished by Aurora Lily Bell.

But there came one day a hero: Wendell Vernon was his name. He was tall, and dark and handsome, and had reached the heights of fame. And his voice, like strains of music, rose and fell in accents sweet; And the paintings of his fancy were so perfect and complete

That the dim, defineless shadows, time had gently rolled away. Danced before the magic vision like the beams of perfect day. When the gentle evening zephyrs murmured through the pines. And the trains of silvery moon-beams kissed the spiral-twining vines.

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Then a flood of sacred music seemed to roll from realms above, As the maid, enraptured, listened to the tale of Wendell's love. In the new and thrilling drama, Wendell played his part so well That the days were shining moments to Aurora Lily Bell.

But the bright and shining moments, with their whirling trains of bliss, Passed beyond the peaceful valley to a fairer world than this; And a group of sombre shadows, flitting o'er the peaceful dell, Lingered near the blithesome spirit of Aurora Lily Bell.

From the distant Isle of Cuba came such tales of death and shame That the war-spark of the nation soon became an angry flame. And the flame, like vivid lightning, flashed o'er every hill and plain, When the sons of fallen heroes read the story of the Maine.

Wendell Vernon was a hero, and he loved his country well, So he left the winsome maiden, sweet Aurora Lily Bell. And beneath the starry banner, he became a soldier brave. Fighting for his country's honor and the freedom of the slave.

Then the maiden went to battle with the forces of despair, — For their tents were in the valley they were lurking everywhere. And she felt their icy fingers forging chains upon her soul. When the thunders of the battle o'er the land began to roll.

In the visions of her fancy, when her soul was racked with pain, She had seen her daring lover dashing o'er the battle plain. With his shining blade uplifted, on his steed as white as snow, She had seen him, like a whirl-wind, rush upon the Spanish foe.

And she saw the steed returning, but no rider touched the rein Then she saw her lover dying on the dreary battle plain. And she heard him sadly whisper: "Sweet Aurora Lily Bell, I am lonely; I am dying; this must be my last farewell."

Thus the visions of her fancy spread their pinions far and wide. And the group of sombre shadows ever lingered by her side. But a thunderbolt from heaven seemed to strike her drooping head. When she read the fatal message that her absent prince was dead.

852 IMPROVEMENT ERA.

— "Wendell Vernon with the angels how I long to join him there !

Was the message sent to heaven on the wings of every prayer. And the prayer was being answered; loving friends would hold their breath, As they saw her swiftly passing to the dreary halls of death.

Hark! the village bells are ringing: "Spread the tidings far and near That the Dons have all surrendered, and the boys will soon be here!" 'Twas a time of great rejoicing, and the air was rent with cheers: "We must have a grand reception for the noble volunteers."

When the gentle evening zephyrs sweetly murmured through the pines. And the trains of silvery moonbeams kissed the spiral-twining vines, Then the fair and drooping Lily, with her face as white as foam, Sadly whispered, "Wendell, darling, you are never coming home."

Then the fair and drooping Lily sought that ever sacred spot Where her lover told the story that should never be forgot. Then among the shadows kneeling, with her thoughts in realms above. She dispatched this simple message as a token of her love:

— "Wendell Vernon with the angels how I long to join him there !

Gracious Father, hear and answer this my oft-repeated prayer." Then a spirit seemed to answer: "Drive away those guilty fears I have fought the nation's battles—I have saved the volunteers.

"Rise above thy selfish sorrow; set thy captive spirit free There will come a bright tomorrow, all will yet be well with thee." Then a sweet and peaceful spirit filled her mind with visions fair, And the group of sombre shadows vanished into empty air.

'Twas a calm and peaceful morning, dreary clouds had rolled away They were too polite to linger on that great reception day. And the town was so entangled in a web of flags and flowers. With its mass of floating arches, and its wilderness of bowers.

That it seemed a gorgeous vision of the fancy floating by, Or a paradise of glory, in the mansions of the sky. And the Stars and Stripes were waving, and the air was rent with cheers. As the train approached the station with the noble volunteers.

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Then they formed a grand procession, and the bands began to play. Every heart was set to music, on that great reception day. But the fair and drooping Lily sought the shadow of the pines, Where the happy birds were singing, and the gentle ivy twines.

For she longed to see the heroes who had known her lover well; They would bring some tender token to Aurora Lily Bell. Was this mortal? Was she dreaming? Had the spark of reason fled? Had the visions of her fancy called to life the sleeping dead?

She had seen her noble Vernon on his steed as white as snow, Leading by the great procession to the pleasure grounds below! Joy inflamed her drooping spirit, terror seized her weary brain. With a cry, her senses vanished, and she sank beneath the strain.

Many weary days she lingered in the shadow of the grave, Little dreaming of the presence of her soldier lover brave. Wendell Vernon nursed the maiden, with a woman's tender care, With a breaking heart he listened to her sweet, pathetic prayer:

^'Wendell Vernon." "I am with thee, sweet Aurora Lily Bell. There will come a bright tomorrow, all will yet again be well." Then a sweet and peaceful spirit filled her mind with visions fair; And her shadows of afiliction vanished into empty air.

Then he told her of his capture— of his dreary prison cell. Of the voice that ever whispered, "All will yet again be well," Of his fight to gain his freedom, of the battle on the plain, Where, when he was only missing, he had been reported slain.

And the maid, enraptured, listened, for his voice was just as sweet, As when floods of sacred music rolled above their lone retreat. In this new role of the drama, Wendell played his part so well That the days were shining moments to Aurora Lily Bell.

Wendell Vernon was a hero, and he loved so long and well That he soon became the husband of Aurora Lily Bell, And of all the flowers that blossomed in that fairy's sylvan dell. None were ever half so lovely as Aurora Lily Bell.