St Johns College - Yearbook (Annapolis, MD)

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vas 3 once again the artist dreamed and let his hopes rise high. Henwas painting his life 3 the light and darkness and the despair 3 he was working for her whom he loved and against her whom he hated. Oh I how the fever burned 3 his eyes Hamed and his hands trembled as stroke after stroke brought the picture to perfection. The painted lights seemed to cast shadows in the gloom, not the tallow candle's rays. Two days, three days, without food or rest, and 'twas finished 3 the last touch was dry, and the picture seemed a marvelous creation ! It was put on exhibition, gazed at, wondered at, ad- mired 3 he was praised, flattered, courted and made much of. He descended from the hated attic and a few short, triumphant days lived in bliss. But the fever was strong and the artist weak. He was sinking. All this praise and glory was naught to him now. The elegant apartment in which he was lying stifled him. His sorrowful eyes rested in turn on the flowers and dainties around the couch. What were they to him P Ah l yes, the world for a day had changed toward him 3 it was pleased to be amused 3 men need amuse- ment 3 but tomorrow, perchance, this same man might be starving. He laughed bitterly, and, as though his mirth were odious to him, he changed his mood and sighed. A spray of tiny lilies answered the sigh, and he looked on them. How pure they wereg how divinely pure, in comparison with the other flowers. The giver of those lilies was before the artist's eyes, and again he sighed. It was dusk, and the shadow deepened. There was light now to brighten the gloom. But, liark l there was a footstep on the stair and suddenly from the thresh- old a light shone forth, a radiant brightness. It was she l The artist stretched forth a feeble, trembling hand 3 this was too much joy. Death stood waiting for him. But the woman whis- pered unto Death, who tarried at her bidding. And she kissed the man upon his brow once, and then again, and he closed his weary eyes and smiled. 'Fi A9-i....4'.L 'P'- lkef N 42 if if 'Rf Q- Q -XNIQ AF 'mod .sw 82,4197-,X f 10 'QW gin 0.T2'1Gli-is 543 i'3 'Jx ' ' 'iff FM. - N - '. fl fe? M 1 7 1. 2,31 fm ' . yl-'T A Q ta. 'm-9'-. ff '4 A: -ff? X ' I Q'-N . U V' ,v . Q ,j 61,331 ,.-13:-,.X Y' Q :f . ..,, , ' ,-- fi, I xi f - , 153

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c.7lze 3rtz'st 77anbruglz. 'l-'I'-l l l H l ! I' HE squalid apartment was only lighted by a tallow candle, and the artist sat alone, resting his dejected head on a badly polished table. There was little furniture in the room, and absolutely nothing pertaining to comfort 3 but the man with bent head cared naught for this. He was thinking of many things--things which might have been, but were not, and he only was to blame 5 thinking of himself, tossed ruthlessly about on life's stormy tide, ruined by his own perverseness ! His crushed hopes and aims, where were they ? His spurned, unnoticed work, where was it ? He thought of his future- no light glimmering in the distance far ahead, for the light he had passed, and could return to it no more. A woman was that light, a dazzling illumination 5 so bright as to have blinded him 5 and he, thinking to accustom himself to it, sank into the refuge of darkness. But the blackness of vice is too strong for us all. The man could not return, for he had no power but to be whirled on and on. They had played together years ago, Claude Vanbrugh and his fair sweetheart, Doris. He had been her favorite champion 3 she was his only love 3 then, now and would be forever. But as they had grown older a great gulf had gradually yawned between them, which became ever wider and deeper and darker. He, led on by a false light at the bottom of the abyss, descended day by day, step by 152 step, leaving her waiting above. From there he had tried to gain great aims, to be famous, to be an honored man. Alone he had struggled, friendless, except for Doris. The other light was not a friend. He had painted many pictures, and had held the golden cup filled with sparkling nectar, when the false glow shone out mock- ingly, alluringly, and dashed the prize away, so that it fell into the eager grasp of another ready waiting. The artist had been cruelly wronged and deceived, but for many days he knew it not. It was the face of his dead mother which brought the truth before him. In a dream he saw it all, and, waking, he loathed the light, turned from it to Doris, now so very far above him., Called to her, only to be mocked at: painted for her, only to be ridiculed. Vanbrugh sat thinking of his past with bent head and clasped hands. Oh I to be here, miserable an'd wretched l To be nobody, to have nothing, to have tried and failed 3 to have grasped and lost l The bitterness stung him, and he wept so that his tears fell fast upon a painting lying before him on the unpolished table-not that of Doris-blurring the eyes and the curling hair, erasing the mouth, washing out the rosy cheeks, extinguishing its brilliancy forever from the artist's mind, and he re- membered it no more. Then a great desire came upon him. Once again the brush dashed quickly on a can-

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4 if .Wetrospeetive 77iew. 'I I l I I' HE dark'ning twilight deepens, and the eve grows cold and chill, As I sit before the fire, and with careful fingers fill My pipe with Golden Sceptre, while amid the circling clouds Of fragrant smoke, my fancy the shadowy Past enshrouds With a cloak of gladsome mem'ries - I take a sip of wine As I greet once more in fancy those old schoolmates of mine. The log-tire cracks and hisses, while within the ruddy blaze I see the well-known figures 3 and in the far-off, misty haze Of a Past full well remembered, I can hear the songs we sung. 'Neath the gnarled, old poplar gather'd, e'er the chapel bells were rung - The familiar faces haunt me, and I cannot but repine As I fill another beaker to those old schoolmates of mine. Where are they who, as my comrades, tlirong'd the campus 'and 'the hall P Some now struggle in Life's battle, fair young Pleasure some enthrall 3 At the shrine of Beauty others pleading suppliants come and bow. 'Mong the latter are the Juniors, striving for their sheepskins now. Ah l together I will pledge ye 3 flow for all the rosy wine- Fill to brimming Mem'ry's goblet for those old schoolmates of mme. T54 ,