(/
^/.
^Ibujf Cbition
Be
!luxc
The
By
RICHARD LE GALLIENNE
"VJolumeg 7 aub 8
NATIONAL SPIRIT
THE STUDY OF POETRY
By
FRANCIS
H.
STODDARD
iiational
ilibrnrp
Companp
Cbition
Be Huxe
MAY 25
1956
Copyright, 1904
By John
D.
Morris
& Company
NOTICE OF COPYRIGHTS.
American pieces
in this
legal protection
by
who
their rights.
Publishers of
1904.
Messrs. D.
&
C.
Bryant;
Messrs. Dodd,
Mead &
Co.,
Welcome
to Boz."
Messrs. HorfiiiTox, Miffli^t Co.; Boston. T. B. Ahlrich: " ftuilichnus Re.x," "Tennyson ;" Bret Hartc: "Dickens in Camp;" O. IF Hoi hick : "Daniel Webster;" LazitrMx: "Chopin;" II. W. IjUKiidlov : "Carillon," " " at Florence," " The Skeleton Hawthorne," The Old Bridge " Al)raham ill Armor ;" .7. R. Loivcll : Fincoln," "To H. W. " On a " On Jjoiigfcllow," Hini.self," Coi)y of Omar KliawAm," " " Wm. L. Garrison T. II'. Parson^: "On
&
Emma
Washington," ;" a Hiisle of Dante;" Harriet W. Prrst(n> "Ballad of f4uibour;" Eiliin It. Pnx-tnr: "The Brooklvii Bridge;" .l.J.
:
Armstrong Privateer ;" K. (\ Slcdnuin: "Cousin Lucrece," "Tlie Hand of Lincoln," " Haw" thorne lliirrirt li. Slmrc : " A Dav in the ranifili Doria " .].(i. Wliitticr: "Barclav of.Ury," ""Burns," Fit/Greene " Halleck," Prayer of Agassiz ;" Surah C. IFoo/.sri/; "Emer'
'
son."
Mr.
John
"
;
L.vne,
saruiii
From
" VVordswort
New
"
:
Lacliryni;p
Mu-
(irave."
The
J. B. LipriNroTT r*<)Mi>.\NV, Pliiluleipiij.i, ^7. U. Tiokcr: "Prince Adeb;" T. B. linid: " Drifl.ing."
&
Co.,
vii
Bcston. 7^o/.si;
VOL.
VII.
C.
MniiUnn:
"I^aus Veneris."
N.VRR.ATIVE.
"The
Coasters."
Messrs. Small,
'-In
Mexico."
The Success Company, also The Baker & Taylor Company, New York, in a volume entitled " How to get the Best out of Books." i?. Le Galllamc: " What's the Use of Poetry ?"
II.
American poems
in this
named
work
Publishers of
1904.
M.
J. II. Boner (Mrs. L. A. Boner); Brooks (Mrs. Harriet Lyman Brooks) P. L. Dunbar, R. W. Gilder; C. 11. Phelps: Harriet W. Preston ; Sarah H. P. Whitman (Miss C. F. Dailey, Mrs. H. P. Chace); W. Whit-
C. T.
man
"WHAT
'S
BY
"
GALLIliNNK.
idly tuneful, the loquacious throng Flutter and twitter, prodigal of time, And little musters make a toy of songTill
And
gnive
men weary
of
tlie
sound of rhyme."
no doubt that many one niight alnio.st say most people are firmly convinced that they do not care for poetry. They have no use for i1, they tell you. Either it bores them, as a fantastic, hijilillown method of saying something that, to tluiir way of thinking, could be better said
TiiKUi;
is
in
jtlain
])i'ose,
or
ilicy
look uitou
it
as the senti-
mental nonsense of the moonstruck and lovesick voung,--a kind of intellectual "candv" all very ^^(ll for women and children, but of no value to gi-ow n men with the serious work of the world on
their shoulders.
It
is
not at
all diflicult
To begin deed, to sympalhize with, this allitudc with, of course, there is a laige <lass outside our
j)resent
consideration
^\hicll
it
does not
care
for
''WHAT
'aS'
the
U^SE
OF POETRY?''
its scheme of life. Beyond the newspapers and magazines and an occasional novel of the hour, idly taken up and indifferently put aside, it has no literary needs. With this listless multitude we have not to concern ourselves, but rather with
that sufficiently heterogeneous body known as the reading jtublic, the people for whom Mr. Carnegie builds libraries, and the publishers display their
Of course, among these there must necessarih' be a considerable percentage temperamentally unappreciative of poetry,^ just as there are
wares.
numbers of people born with no ear for music, and numbers, again, born with no color-sense. The lover of i)oetry is no less born than the poet
himself.
so
is
his reader;
Yet, as the poet is made as well as born> and there are many who really
knowing
it,
it,
but
who think
contracted a wrong notion of what i)oetry is, or because they have some time or other made a bad
start with the
I
wrong
kind.
am
tive of the prevailing impression of the foolishness of poetry is the mediocre magazine verse of
In an age when we go so much to the magazines for our reading, we may rely on finding there the best work being done in every branch of
the day.
literature except the highest. The best novelists, the best historians, and the best essayists write for the magazines; but the best poets must be
looked for in their high-priced volumes, and a magazine reader must rely for his verse on lady
Thus he too
"WHAT
oft('ii
\S
xi
aiipruaches poetry not through the great masters, but through the little misses; and he forms his naturally contemptuous notion of
fiom feeble echoes and insipid imitations. wonder, therefore, that he should refuse to Avaste his good eyesight on anything in the shape of verse, and should conceive of poetry as a mild mental dissii)ation for young ladies, a sickly
})oetry
No
sweetmeat made of molasses and moonshine. if the magazine editors of the world Avould only bind themselves to publish no verse except the
contemporary suptheir spare corners of sjiace Willi reprints of the old tine things, I am convinced that (hey would do a great deal toward
I)ly
of the best,
would
fill
rectifying this widespread misconception of an art which, far from being trivial and superficial,
is,
of all
liie
arts, the
I
vi-
tally
human.
all
am
for
leaders.
which has been called "poet's poetry," which, of necessity, can ai)peal only to those in whom the sense of beauty and verbal excpiisiteuess has be-
come
specialized. Spenser and Keats, for example, arc poets of llic rainbow. For the average reader llicir iiocins aic the luxuries rather than
the necessities of literature, though, in making a distinction so rough and ready, it must not be
is
becoming moi-e
it
and more
go!
leii,
a genei-al necessity;
nor must
be for-
and remote
It
is
the
wish,
if
jiossible, to
bring
xii
"WHAT
'aS
the
"
U,SE OF'
POETRY?"
''
home
saj's
Some
flowers,"
George Meredith, have roots deep as oaks." Poetry is oue of those ilowers, and, instead of its
being a superficial decoration of
life, it is,
rightly
understood, the organic expression of life's deepest meaning, the essence in words of human dreams and human action. It is the truth of life
told beautifully,
There
is
man forms. That basis is reality. No other form of human expression has continued with such persistent survival from the beginning until now as
poetry, from
all their
"
The
It
Iliad "
to
"
The
Absentfor
Minded Beggar."
and the
v\ild
flowers,
adventurous fragility, are as old, and no less stable, than the hills, and for the same reason, because they are no less real. Th.e world is a])t to credit prose with a greater reality than poetry but the truth is that the prose of life is real only
;
in proportion as it is vitalized by that spirit of poetry that breathes in all created things. Life exacts practical reasons for the survival of all its
forms of expression, and, unless poetry served some practical purpose of existence, it would long since have perished. It is because poetry has a practical work to do in the world that it continues, and will continue, to exist; beciiuse it is one of the motive forces of the universe, life's motive meaning, one might almost say, the nerve
A great man has defined it force of existence. as " the finer spirit of all knowledge," and the
plii'ase,
"WHAT
'^'
xiii
to say, too, that poetry is the finer spirit of all impulse, tlie finer meaning of all achievement.
There
played
is
no human interest
desirin<^ to be dis-
not
realize the value of a poetical expression. Those v\ho v.oukl depreciate the power of poetry in the sternest practical afl:"airs have only to be re-
how much modern imperialism owes to Kudyard Kiplinj^'; and it is by no means trivial
niiudid
to
have been
remark that the most successful advertisements in vei-se. So soon as " poetry/' so
immediately
its
admitted and
false poets
l)()('lry.
who
"
i)ractical
Probably he has imagined that this great stumbling-block has been the verse. " Why not say it in plain English?" he
has impatiently exclaimed, thinking all the time of la(l verse, of lifeless, contorted rhyming, and
of lliose melrical inanities of
I
yd.
ulicri
ill
yon
biiiig
him
a nci-sc
ali\(',
is felt to
beal of
ha\('
"
il
in lay of Scott's?
he llioiight, you don't find him asking (o Mined into jirose. How about " Mandaprose, for example, or iliat old bugle-call
"
SoiiikI.
fill
tlu' fife
To all llu^ sensual world proclaim, One crowded lioiir of jrlorious life
Is
worth an
apre williout a
name"
xiv
"WHAT
"
'8 "
or Tennyson's
prayetli best who loveth best All tilings, both great and small For tlie dear God, wlio loveth vis,
He
He made and
"
loveth all
"
or " The quality of mercy is not strained." or Under the greenwood tree," or Mr. Swin-
burne's
"
of nie, sweet
More would be laid at your feet Love that should help j'ou to live, Song that should spur you to soar."
:
In
to
all
is
immediately
be the very life of the expression, for the reason that it echoes in words the life-rhythms to
felt
which, unconsciously, all such human emotions Can you say a trumkeep time. Say it in prose pet in prose, or a tear, or a butterfly? If you can> your prose is really poetry, and will be found to
!
be eloquent with sunken rhythms, not immediately obvious to the ear and eye.
The
words.
first
the metre
is
thing to realize about poetry is that the meaning, even more than the
In Tennyson's sad " Tears, idle tears," for example, it is not so much the words that are
rain-like melody mysteriously charging the words with sorrow, like some beau-
tiful interpretative voice; and it is this subtly mimetic quality, cudlessly adaptable, which is the
"WHAT
'S
xv
power
may
finition of poetry,
help though
We
hardy thing to do, for there has never yet been a definition of poetry that satisfied any one but the man who made it. mav recall one fashion-
That a poet should have made such a harrowing definition is amazing, though one, of course, understands it, in the light of the
fact
Matthew
Arnold's
"
Poetry
is
criticism of
it.
poetry
It is life
in
is
is
much more
words.
:
like a re-creation of
me
timidly launch
my own
icords,
definition
that
todies the exaltation, the beauty, the rhythm, and the pathetic truth of life.
Tliore is a motive idealism behind all
human
ac
to
tion of which
which we ordinarily give but little thought, a romance of impulse, which is the real significance of human ellort. The walls of Thebes wvvo built to music, according 1o the old storv, but so were
the walls of every other ci<y that has ever been The sky-sera pei's of N(nv Voi-k are soaring laiilt.
t) iiiusic ;ilso, a mastei'ful music of ilic tiilure, which not all cm hear, and of which, perhaps, the music-makers liiemselves aic most ignorant of all. Once more, in Iluierson's immortal phrase, the
xvi
"WHAT
\S
THE
L\SE
OF POETRY?"
builders are building- better than they know, these ruthless speculators and stern business men,
who
are the last to suspect themselves of the poetry vshich thev involuutaril}' serve. Human life, in the main, is thus unconsciously
poetical,
of a
mysterious
music.
It
is
this
impas-
sioned exaltation, this strange rhythm, this spirit" " which ual beauty, of life, the finer spirit
the poet seizes on and expresses, and therewith also tliat pathos wliich seems to inhere in all
created things.
We
that value of
for which
selves.
life
which we
we
often one has heard people say, on " a poem ^Vhy, that is just what I have reading always felt, but could never express!'' and the
:
How
exclamation v.as obviously a recognition of tJiG truth of the poem. The poet had made a true observation,
truth.
and recorded
it
with
all
the vividness of
all
It is the
the
who already possess something of the poetic vision, yet lack the poetic utterance, but also for those vvho need to be
awakened
to the ideal
of
life.
Poetry is thus seen to be a kind of lay religion, revealing and interpreting the varied beauty and
nobility of life. But a better
"
use
"
the
way than
sv/eet
uses of
poetry
is
to call
up
the names of some of the great poets, and ponder what they have meant, and still mean, in the life
"WHAT
\S
xvii
of humanity, Dante, Milton, and Wordsworth, for example, and to them we might add Tennyson,
Browning,
and
Matthew
Arnold.
How much
these six poets alone have meant to the graver life of humanity: the life of religion, of thought, of conduct! Particularly v'ith regard to the four
we
how, far
more than any professed teachers and thinkers, they were the teachers and thinkers of their age, and did indeed mould the thought of For how many have Wordsworth's their century. In Memoriam," BrownPrelude," Tennyson's " Kabbi Ben Ezra," and Matthew Arnold's ing's
'^
''
been literally sacred books, books to name only a of daily exercise and meditation, few of their more typical poems. They are well
"
Empedocles
"
worn
these lines of
" Tlie world
Tennyson says:
" Are
is too mucli with us late and soon. Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers Little we see in nature that is ours We lia\e given our hearts away, a sordid boon "
;
!
God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams? So careful of the tj'pe she seems, So careless of the single life
;
" That
T,
considering everywhere
tliiit
Anil finding
of lifty seeds
She often
"
I falter
lirings
I
where
And,
Upon
my
xviii
"
WHAT
\S
" I stretch lame liands of faith, And gather dust and chaff,
To what
I feel is
all,
And
I
so small a thing
To Iiave enjoyed the sun, To have lived light in the spring. To have loved, to have tliouglit, to have done To have advanced true friends, and beat down
baffling foes
;
And
That we must feign a bliss Of doubtful future date, And, while we dream on this, Lose all our present state, " relegate to worlds yet distant our repose ?
These lines, and many more like them that one conld quote, have done definite spiritual service for mankind, have Inspired countless men and
forti-
suste-
nance for the human spirit. Again, the mere mention of such names as Goethe, Byron, and Shelley carries with it their tremendous significance in the " practical " life of the modern Avorld. When we think of such
figures as occur over and over again in the history of poetry, we realize that Tennyson's " one poor " that '' shook the world " was no poet's scroll
mere boyish
sad musical
in verse
like
"
WHAT
"
\S
xix
We are
the music-makers, are the dreamers of dreams, Wanderhig by lone sea breakers, And sitting by desolate streams
And we
World-losers and world-forsakers. On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world
for ever,
it
seems."
has been
what a sbeerly political force poetry America alone one lias oul}- to recall the ])oenis of Whittier and Lo\yell, Poe and Long" Battle fellow, and Julia Ward Howe's immortal
realize
in
To
llynm
of the Republic." But, apart from such strenuous and stern services, how many other services no less valuable
services of joy
The poet, often so sad sings all men's joys and sorrows as if they were his own, and there is nothing that can ]i:ippen to us, nothing we can experience, no stroke
of fate, and no mood of heart or mind that we can not find exi)ressed and interpreted for us somewhere in some poet's book. Take but one Rolxrt Burns, for instance, and think of l)oet,
sum
total of
human
and human consolation that his handful Who asks, "NN'hat's of Scotch songs has made. " when he joins in Auld Lang the use of poetry? Syne," and feels his heart stirred to its tearful
''
depths with the sentiment of human brotherhood, and the almost tragic dearness of friends. And who that has ever be<'n in love has not once iu his life felt the brotherly baud of a fellow experience iu
XX
"WHAT
"
\S
THE
Ui^,B
OF POETRY f'^
We had
nivste-
which belongs to the perfect of sorrow? expression If the simple songs of a Scotch peasant have
been of so
much
"
lordly pleasure-house of Shakespeare? Think of the boundless universe of mere delight that has
written over
speare," the
its
door,
"
them tlie joy of life, to heighten their pleasures, to dry their tears, to bind u]) their wounds; if it be of no use to teach them wisdom, to open their eyes, to purify and direct their spirits, to gird
in
them to fight, to brace them to endure, to teach them to be gentle, then, indeed, we may ask, 'MVhat 's the use of poetry?" but, while poetry can do all these things, I think it must be allowed by the most practical that it has a very important part to ])lay in the work of the world. To end, as I began, with that practical m;in
who imagines
gave one or two explanations of his distaste, but there is one other important one that must not be forgotten. He begins too often with " Paradise I mean that he too often atLost,"
tempts some tough classic, before he is i-eady for and, because he cannoi read Milton with it,
"WHAT
pleasuie,
'S
xxi
for
iinagiues
all.
he
does
not
care
poetry
r.t
Thus he
by the insipid magazine muses on the one hand an^ the unscalable immortals on the other. Too many make the famous Mr. Bofliu's mistake of
beginning the study of English literature with Gibbous "Decline and Fall"; and what wonder
the study of English poetry '' should imagine, Sordelio with Browning's like Douglas Jerrold in the story, either that his
if
mau beginning
''
mind was
was someActually a
love poetry very deeply, and care noth" ing at all for Paradise Lost."' He may also find nothing for him in Homer or iEschylus or Dante
man may
The great architectural works of such masters may seem too godlike and grim for his But give him a handful of gentler human need. violets from Ophelia's grave, or a bunch of Merrick's daflodils, or take him out under the sky where Shelley's lark is singing, or try him with a Ivric of Heine's, or some ballad of
or (Joethc.
"...
Ami
and yoii will see whether or not he loves jjoetry. The mistake is in thinking that all jtoetry is for On llie contrary, [\w realm of poetry all readers.
as wide as the world, for the very rea.son that each man may find there just what he nee<ls. and
is
The thing
for us,
to
is
to discover the
poetry
that
was meant
is
to do that
and perhaps the best way turn over the jtages of some well-
xxii
"WHAT
selection, held.
'S
made
and
where our eyes get caught Golden Treasury " is, of Palgrave's course, the classical anthology, a little volume
filled
and
with
the
poetry.* hour, and find nothing to his taste, it is to be feared that he was born deaf to the sweet rippling of the Pierian spring. But, as I have said, 1 be-
If a
man
few have been so hardly treated h\ napoet died young in every one of us," said some one. I think he did not so much die as fall asleep, nor is he so fast asleep but that the
ture.
lieve that "
awaken him.
It is just the
it
use of living,
"
and
whole
enter
let
And rocks whence honey flows deliciouslj^ Udders from which comes frothing copiously The milk of life, ears filled with sweetest grains, And fig trees knowing uo sterility Here Paradisal streams make rich the plains, Oh come and bathe therein, ye world-worn
;
weary swains."
(^ i\ k ^r4>
*
L,
f^Ue^
***-
The "Golden Treasury," when it was published more than forty ago was certainly the finest anthology that had been made in England and it still holds its place as a very choice collection of British poets small and select. The Euitoks.
years
;
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
"What
's
By Richard Le
Gallienne
ix
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS
Personal
riors
:
Rulers
Statesmen
War3
Great Writers
Miscellaneous
37 110
124
160
NARRATIVE POEMS:
Greece: Rome Norselanu Germany Tiiio Orient: Spain: France England Scotland America
: :
.......
....
483
441
vn
xxiii
DESCEIPTIVE POEMS
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
TO MARY STUART.
All
That
beauty, granted as a boon to earth, is, has been, or ever can have birth,
Compared to hers, is void, and Nature's care Ne'er formed a creature so divinely fair.
In spring amidst the
lilies
peerless face adorn; blood the rose may paint, the rose's hues are faint
:
With all his richest store Love decked her eyes; The Graces each, those daughters of the skies.
Strove Avhich should
dear,
make her
to the
world most
And, to attend
The day that was to l)par her far away, Why was I mortal to behold that day? O, had I senseless grown, nor heard, nor seen! Or that my eyes a ceaseless fount had been, That J might weep, as weep amidst their bowers The nymphs, when winter winds have cropped
their flowers.
Or when rude torrents the clear streams deform, Or wl'en the trees are riven by the storm Or rather, would that I some bird had been
!
Still to Still
be near her in each changing scene, on the highest mast to watch all day.
And
like a star to
mark her
vessel's
way:
champions
gone, Rohmd, Rinaldo? is tliere living none Her steps to follow and her safety guard, And deem her lovely looks their best reward, Which might subdue the pride of mighty Jove To leave his heaven, and languish for her love?
No
fault
is
For simple Love dreads to approach the great He flies from regal pomp, that treacherous snare, Where truth unmarked may wither in despair.
;
Wherever destiny her path may lead, Fresh-springing flowers will bloom beneath her
tread.
All nature will rejoice, the waves be bright. The temjtest check its fury at her sight,
The sea be calm her beauty to behold. The sun shall crown her with his rays of
:
gold,
Unless he fears, should lie np])roach her throne Her majesty should (piite ecliise his own. From the French of PIERRE DE ROXSARD.
Translation of
lailli
To
i)eace
and
glorious
way
hast
And on
proud
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots inbued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud. And Worcester's laureate wreath. Yet much
mains
re-
To conquer still Peace hath her No less renowned than War new
;
:
victories
foes arise.
Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw
is
their
maw.
MILTON.
O,
O, BREATHE not his name let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid;
!
As
Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, the night-dew that falls on the grave o'er his
head.
falls,
though
in silence
weeps.
And
we
it
rolls.
memory
u z o c I h < CO h u O Q
(
Q w
CO <|
C w Z a: w Z w o D CO
a
<
CHARLES
FROM
'"'^THE
XII.
VANITY OF
HUMAN
WISHES."
On what fonudations stands the warrior's pride, IIow just his hoies, let Swedish Charles decide: A frame of adamant, a soul of tire, Ko dangers fright him, and no labors tire; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain,
Unconquered lord of pleasure and of pain.
No joys to him i)acific sceptres yield, War sounds the trump, he rushes to the
llehold surrounding kings their
field
power combine,
in
And one
capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms
vain
cries,
"till
naught
fly,
On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards And all be mine beneath the polar sky."
The
iiiaicli
And
And
Stern famine guards the solitary coast, wiiiler barricades the realms of frost,
lie comes, noi-
Hide, Idushing
The
(
And shows
\\'liile
I'.nt
"oiidciiiiied n
and
slav<'s debate.
Iiei-
leiigtii
erroi-
mend?
his
end?
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
rival mouarclis give the fatal wound, hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destined to a barren strand,
Did
Or
He
petty fortress, and a dubious hand left the name, at which the world
a moral or adorn a tale.
DU.
grevv^ i^ale,
To point
SAMUKL JOHNSON.
NAPOLEON.
"
Tu
"
!
Angel
or demon! thou whether of light The minister, or darkness still dost sway
This age of ours; thine eagle's soaring flight Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
Shuns thee
Rests on
in vain
all
And on
The subject-lands that 'neath Vesuvius be, Whether he wind along the enchanting shore To Portici from fair Parthenope,
Or, lingering long in dreamy revery, O'er loveliest Ischia's od'rous isle he stray.
Wooed by whose
sea
Seems
like
lay,
way
detain, Shroudin<i- his soul with meditation's power; Or at I'ozzuoli, to the spi-ii>htly strain
Or wake
Listening, he while away the evening hour; the echoes, mournful, lone, and deep, Of that sad city. In its dreaming bower
likeness which they
sleep
;
By
The
the volcano seized, where mansions keep wore at that last fatal
Or be
Cliants Tasso's lays to Virgil's pleased shade, Ever he sees throughout that circuit wide.
From sliaded nook or sunny lawn es])ied. From rocky lieadland viewed, oi- llow'ry shore. From sea and spreading mead alike descried.
The Giant Mount, tow'ring
And
all objects o'er. l)lack'ning with its breath th' horizon ever-
more
From
tlie
Frcnoli of VlC'IXdt
11 ('(iO.
XAPOLKOX.
FUO.M *'<IIII,I)K
IIAKOI,!)."'
CAXTO
III.
Tiifim; sunk the greatest, nor (lie worsl of men, AN'hose spirit aniitliet ically mixed One iiioineiit of the migiitiest. and again
On
little
li\(>(|.
JCxtreme
10
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Thy throne had still been thine, or never been; For daring made thy rise as fall thou seek'st Even now to reassnrae the imperial mien,
:
And shake
scene
Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, Who wooed thee once, thy vassal, and became The flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wert A god unto thyself nor less the same
:
To
Who
the astounded kingdoms all inert, deemed thee for a time whate'er thou didst
assert.
O more
high or low. Battling with nations, flying from the field; Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield An empire thou couldst crush, command, reor less than
:
man in
build,
But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, However deei)ly in men's spirits skilled. Look through thine own, nor curb the lust
war.
of
Nor
Yet well thy soul hath brooked the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy. Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.
II
Whon
With
a sedate
and
all-endnrino;
eye.
WluMi Fortune
child,
lied
He
upon
liiiii
piled.
Sager than
Ambition That just habitual scorn which could contemn Men and their thoughts; 't was wise to feel, not
so
To wear it ever on thy lip and brow, And spurn the instruments thou wert
Till tlicy
to use
were turned unto thine overthrow; but a worthless world to win or lose; So hath il [iroved to thee, and all such lot who
'T
is
choose.
If, like a tower upon a headlong rock. Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, Such scorn <f man had helped to brave the
shock
Their admiration
tliy best
weapon shone;
lliinc.
The
pai-l
of
riiilii)'s
liiy
son w;is
not then
(I'nh'ss aside
men;
tt>o
far
wide a den.
bosoms
is a hell.
tliei-e
is
And
llnrc
Iiiitli
Ix-en
thy bane;
a liic
12
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
And motion of the In its own narrow
sonl which will not dwell
being, but aspire
Bej-ond the fitting medium of desire; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.
This makes the
mad
By
Founders
and Kings,
whom add
Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things AVhich stir too strongly the soul's secret springs, And are themselves the fools to those they fool
;
how unenviable! what stings Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school Which would unteach mankind the lust to shine
Envied, yet
or rule.
is agitation, and their life storm whereon they ride, to sink at last, And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife, That should their days, surviving perils past, Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast With sorrow and supineness, and so die; Even as a flame, unfed, which i-uns to waste With ils own flickering, or a sword laid by.
Their breath
Which
and rusts
iugloriously.
He who
The
loftiest
snow;
13
He who
Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits
led.
LORD BYRON.
Mother
Of
all tluit
divine,
Above
llie
Now
Nor
sits
The
soul,
\\'ith
Angelo.
li";ivcnly
his
ovvii
tongue
Ii;i(Ii
li(M\f'nIy
speech
lCn()Ugli
(<)
say
What
tliis
ninn
\\-as,
wli(sc piMisc
no
(lioiiglil
may
reach.
No words
can weigh.
14
DESCRIPTIVE POEiMS.
first
Since man's
Her
Such grace
first-born son,
man on
earth
As crowns
this One.
Of God nor man was ever this thing said: That he could give
Life back to her
who gave
Mother might
live.
But
this
man found
With
his
slain,
fast-sealed eyes,
And bade
up and
live again,
And And
all
the world
:
was bright with her through him But dark with strife.
Like heaven's
own sun
Was
Life and the clouds are vanished; hate and fear Have had their span
He
is
here
City superb, that hadst Columbus first For sovereign son. Be prouder that thy breast hath later nurst
As with
hand
15
names by thousands
told
That crown her fame: But highest of all that heaven and earth behold
Mazzini's name.
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
By broad Potomac's
silent shore
WASHINGTON.
[From
1875,
on
" Under the Elm," read at Caiiil)ri.lse, July 3, tlie Hundredtli Anniversary of Washington's
of the
taking
Command
American Army.]
A century ago
he stood.
Earned vaguely for that old light in the wood. ^^'hicll redly foamed round liiiii but conld not over-
whelm
The
life
foredoomed
t<
wield
the
I
our rough-hewn
helm.
FroTii colleges, whei-e
now
gown
To arms had
vielded,
IG
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Our rude self -summoned levies flocked to see The new-come chiefs and wonder which was he.
No
tall,
Long trained in murder-brooding forests lone To bridle others' clamors and his own, Firmly erect, he towered above them all. The incarnate discfpline that was to free With iron curb that armed democracy.
Haughty they said he was, at first, severe. But owned, as all men owned, the steady hand
the bridle, patient to command, Prized, as all prize, the justice pure from fear, And learned to honor first, then love him, then
Upon
revere.
And purpose
taint.
Musing beneath the legendary tree. The years between furl off: I seem to see The sun-flecks, shaken the stirred foliage through, Dapple with gold his sober bufl' and blue. And weave i>i"0]hetic aureoles round the head That shines our beacon now, nor darkens with
the dead.
O man
of silent
mood,
How
strangers then. renowned the Great, the Good, Familiar as the day in all the homes of men
stranger
among
The winged years, that winnow praise and blame, Blow many names out they but fan to flame The self-reneAving splendors of thy fame.
:
17
To phrase unkemi)t, nor pass discretion's brink, With him so statuelike in sad reserv'e, So diffident to claim, so forward to deserve! Nor need T shun due influence of his fame Who, mortal among mortals, seemed as now The equestrian shape with unimpassioned brow,
That paces
silent
What
Than Calm
figure
that grave strength so patient and so i)ure. in good fortune, when it wavered, sure, That soul serene, impenetrably just.
Modelled on classic linos, so simi)le they endure? That soul so softly radiant and so white The track it left seems less of fire than light.
Cold but to such as love distemperature? And if pure light, as some deem, be the force That drives rejoicing planets on their course.
Why
Tlis
for
his
power benign
seeU
;in
impurer
source?
])urns long,
Domestically bright.
Fed from itself and shy of human sight. The hidden force that makes a lifetime strong.
And
not the short-lived fuel of a song. What is p.-ission for Passionless, say yon? But to sublime our natui-es and control,
heroic (oils
OT-
To front Or notie,
That
fire
\\\\]\
lute return.
siKJi as
was
soul.
And
VII 2
18
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Through seven slow years of unadvancing war, Equal when fields were lost or fields were won, With breath of popular applause or blame, Nor fanned nor damped, unqueuchably the same, Too inward to be reached by flaws of idle fame.
and statesman, rarest unison; High-poised example of great duties done Simply as breathing, a world's honors- worn
Soldier
As
life's
Dumb
Tramping the snow to coral where they trod, Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content; Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed
Save by the men his nobler temper shamed; Not honored then or now because he wooed The popular voice, but that he still withstood;
Broad-minded, higher-souled, there
is
but one
men's,
Who was
all
this,
and
ours,
and
all
Washington.
Minds strong by fits, irregularly great. That flash and darken like revolving lights, Catch more the vulgar eye unschooled to wait On the long curve of patient days and nights.
Rounding the whole life to the circle fair Of orbed completeness and this balanced So simple in its grandeur, coldly bare Of draperies theatric, standing there
;
soul,
In perfect symmetry of self-control. Seems not so great at first, but greater grows
Still
as
we
look,
10
How grand tliis quiet is, liow nobly stern The discipline that wrought through life-long
throes
Too self-respectful in its griefs and joys For ardent girls and boys, Who find no genius in a mind so clear That its grave depths seem obvious and near, Nor a soul great that made so little noise. They iexA no force in that calm, cadenced phrase, The habitual full-dress of his well-bred mind, That seems to pace the minuet's courtly maze
And
tell
of
ampler
leisures,
roomier length of
That no tumultuary blood could blind. Formed to control men, not amaze, Looms not like those that borrow height of haze; It was a world of statelier movement then
Than this we fret in, he a denizen Of that ideal Itome that made a man
Placid completeness,
life
for men.
without a
fall
From faith wa
i
or highest aims,
truth's
brcachless
Ilis will
any fame can bear the touch, Here! " at the last trumpet's call. say The uiicxpressive man whose life expressed so
Surely
if
''
luucli.
20
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
DANIEL WEBSTER.
.When,
stricken,
by the freezing
blast,
A nation's living pillars fall, How rich the storied page, how A word, a whisper, can recall
No medal
lifts its fretted face.
vast,
ej'e;
I trace,
living
image passes by
roof beneath the mountain pines; The cloisters of a hill-girt }tlain; The front of life's embattled lines;
A mound
These are the scenes a boy appears Set life's round dial in the sun,
:
Yet pause upon the noontide hour, Ere the declining sun has laid His bleaching rays on manhood's power. And look upon the mighty shade.
Dark, calm, large-fronted, lightning-eyed, Earth has no double from its mould!
PER.'^OXAL:
RULERS, ETC.
21
Ere from the fields by valor won The battle-smoke had rolled away,
And
bared the blood-red setting sun, His e^es were opened on the day.
His land was bnt a shelving strip, Black with the strife that made He lived to see its banners dip
Their fringes
in the
it
free;
western sea.
The boundless prairies learned his name, His words the mountain echoes knew; The northern breezes swe])t his fame
From
Jn
toil
icy lake to
warm
bayou.
When
I'ut
ott'
cycle
his robes of
laid
is
And
them at
His rest
^^'hom
Whose
by the sloiui-swept waves, wild Ictiipests roughly ti'ied. heart was like (he streaming caves
life's
Of ocean, throbbiug
at his side.
Death's cold while hand is like the snow Laid softly on the furrowed hill;
And
slill.
In \aiii (he (^^^(His tongue njiliraids; His name a nation's licart shall keep.
Till nioiniiig's latest snnliglit
I'ailcs
On
22
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
"
Some time
;
afterward,
Letter of H.
G. Otis.
In a small chamber, friendless and unseen, Toiled o'er his types one poor, unlearned young
man;
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean
Yet there the freedom of a race began.
:
Help came but slowly surely no man yet Put lever to the heavy world with less
;
:
What
need of help?
set.
He knew how
types were
He had
Such earnest natures are the fiery pith, The comjjact nucleus, round which systems grow Miass after mass becomes inspired therewith.
:
And
O Freedom how are ye still born In the rude stable, in the manger nursed What humble hands unbar those gates of morn
O Truth
!
What!
shall
cell.
23
Brave Luther answered Yes; that tliunder's swell Rocked Europe, and discharmed the triple
crown.
V\'hatever can be
known
of earth
we know,
in
Sneered
Europe's
wise
men,
their snail-
shells curled;
No! said one man in Genoa, and that No Out of the dark created this New World.
\Vho
is it
Who
AMio
lie
is it
is it
hath not strenoth to stand alone? thwarts and bilks the inward Must?
his works,
like sand,
and
blown.
Men
of a
See one straightforward conscience i)ut To win a world; see the obedient sphere
pawn
By
Shall
drawn
And by
We
Nor.
\\'hMl
stride the river daily at its s])ring, in our childish thoughtlessness, foresee
shall
liibiilc bi-ing.
How
an equal
it
arc great
lie;ii-|
;in(l
strong,
Based on
faitliful
Ye
24
DE!:iCRlPTIYE POEMS.
When
manacled hands, and agony Praying despair, And answer came not anywhere. But gloom through all the stricken lands,
slaves u])lifted
in
"For shame!" he cried; s})are thou All men are free before their God "
"
!
the rod;
its
fang.
And
So spake he then,
Who
prized their manhood more than praise; Their faith failed not of better days
England's great heart misunderstood: She looked u})On her child askance; But heard his words and lowered her lance, Remembering her motherhood.
.
23
ever his,
the slave
Wherever men
ABKAHAM
You
lay a wreath ou
LINCOLN.
14,
18G.5,*
murdered Lincoln's
bier,
trrice,
Broad for the self-complacent British sneer,. His length of shambling limb, his furrowed
hair,
ITis
face,
at ease,
Of i)ower
01-
we
slep
as
i(
could point
(i-
paragraph
pain:
I'kiicIi.
Of
to the
chief's p('rile.\ily.
|tc()])Ic's
in the
London
which, up
ii<ii-
ho
assassiiia' ion oC
liiiu
with
all its
well-kuuw n powoisof
pen aud
petir-il.
26
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, Between the monrners at his head and feet,
Say, scurrile Jester,
is
there
room
for
you?
Yes: he had lived to shame me from my sneer, To lame my pencil, and confute my pen;
To make me own
My
true
How,
iron-like, his
bitter in success, nor boastful he, Thirsty for gold nor feverish for fame.
He went
about his work,- such work as few Ever had laid on head and heart and hand, As one who knows, where there 's a task to do, Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace
command
Who
grow.
That God makes instruments to work his "will, If but that will we can arrive to know. Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill.
27
So he went forth to battle, on the side That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, As in his peasant boyhood he had plied His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting
mights
;
The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, The iron-bark, that turns the lumberer's axe, The rapid, that o'erbears the boatman's toil, The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks,
The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear, Such were the deeds that helped his youth to
train
:
Kough
may
and grain.
So he grew up, a destined work to do, And lived to do it: four long-suflfering years'
Ill-fale, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived
And
And
Till,
The taunts
look
;
both
with
the
same
unwavering
mood as he came on
stood,
light,
And seemed
between tlie go;il iind him, from beliind his h:i(k, (riggei' prcsl. And those pei'ph'xed ;in(1 pntieiil eyes wel'C dim, Those g;innl, h>nglaboiing linil)S were laid to
felon
Iijiiid,
Keaclicil
;i
rest
28
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
of
The words
his lips,
Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse To thoughts of peace on earth, good-will to men.
The Old World and the New, from sea to Utter one voice of sjmpath.y and shame
Sore heart, so stopped when
it
sea,
:
Sad
life,
its
deed accurst
the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
By
murder on a strife. Whatever its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven And with the martyr's crown crownest a life
Vile hand, that brandest
With much
TOM TAYLOR.
O CAPTAIN!
MY CAPTAIN!
!
Captain ni}^ Captain our fearful trip is done. The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we
!
sought
is ^^on,
The port
is
exulting,
While follow eyes the stead}' keel, the and daring; But O heart heai-t heart
! !
grim
lies.
29
Captain!
bells;
my
Rise up
fur vou the bugle For you bouquets and ribboned wreathsfor you
for you
liuug
trills,
Here Captain
dear father This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck
!
You
and dead.
lips are pale
My My
and
my
nor
will.
is
The ship
voyage
in
closed
and done.
comes
with
From
object
won
Exult
shores,
and ring
(.)
bells!
But
lies,
WALT
Wliri'MAX.
Thai brow nil wisdom, all b<'nig!ii<y That Iniiiiiiu, Jiuinorous moiith; those cheeks
;
that hold
30
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
all the summer's gold; That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea For storms to beat on the lone agony Those silent, patient lips too well foretold. Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men As might some prophet of the elder day, Brooding above the tempest and the fray With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal
;
ken.
power was his beyond the touch of art Of armed strength his pure and mighty heart. RICHARD WATSON GILDER.
:
The man who sped the woodman's team. And deepest sunk the ploughman's share,
And pushed
Of
fate before
him unaware.
This was the hand that knew to swing The axe since thus would Freedom train Her son and made the forest ring,
And
And, when men sought his word and look. With steadfast might the gathering swayed.
31
Lord
When
all
The hand of Anak, sinewed strong. The fingers that on greatness clutch Yet, lo! the marks their lines along Of one who strove and suffered much.
;
For here
I
in knotted cord
and vein
trace the varying chart of years; I know the troubled heart, the strain, The weight of Atlas and the tears.
Again I see the patient brow That X)alm erewhile was wont to press; And now 't is furrowed deep, and now ^lade smooth with hope and tenderness.
Breathes like a
spirit, in
and
out,
The
\()\v
Yet
Lo, as
man, from up yon iwrge hjuid. appcai-s: wills to |)lan thai Xalnrc type But once in all a [)eople's years.
I
I>uil(
32
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
better than this voiceless cast
tell
What
To
Since through
ABRAHAM
LINCOLN.
ODE.
And
As bravely
So bountiful
Fate;
When
To front
a line in
Limbed
Who
earth,
Not forced to frame excuses for his birth. Fed from within with all the strength he needs.
our Martyr-Chief, Nation he had led, With ashes on her head. Wept with the ])assion of an angry grief: Forgive me,. if from present things I turn
he,
Such was
Whom
late the
33
man
jjjau,
:
For him
And
With
Old- World moulds aside he threw, choosing sweet clay from the breast Of the unexhausted West,
lier
stulf
Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true. How beautiful to see
One whose meek Hock the peojtle joyed Not lured by any cheat of birth,
r>Ml
by his dear-grained
human
wortI,
And
lr;i\('
They knew hat outward grace is dust; They could not choose but trust
In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill,
And
Thai bent
to s|ring
again and
tlirnst.
His was no lonely nionnlain peak of niin<l, aii- o'er our cloudy bars, A sea-mark now. now lost in \ajiors blind;
Tlirnst ing to lliin
liroad prairie
I""'rnilliil
ralliei*,
genial, level-lined,
Yet also
Or,
llien.
J>i-e
nigii (o liea\eii
ol'
ami
Xolliing
ilnrope
liei-e.
vn a
still,
34
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Could Nature's equal scheme deface; Here was a type of the true elder race,
And
I praise
him not;
it
were too
late;
And some innative weakness there must In him who condescends to victory
Such as the Present
gives,
be
wise years decide. Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour,
But at
These
all
last silence
comes;
Our The
are gone, and, standing like a tower. children shall behold his fame.
kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing
man.
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
THE KING."
DEDICATION.
His Memory since he held them dear. Perchance as finding there unconsciously Some image of himself I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tears These Idyls.
These
to
35
Who reverenced his conscience as his king; "Whose glory was, redressing luiiuan wrong; Who spake no slander, no, nor listened to it;
"Who loved one only and who clave to her " Her over all whose realms to their last isle. Commingled with the gloom of imminent war, The shadow of His loss moved like eclipse. Darkening the world. We have lost him: he
is
gone
A"\"e
all
see
How
With what sublime repression of himself, And in what limits, and how tenderly; Not swaying to this faction or to that: Not making his high place the lawless perch Of winged ambitions, nor a vantage-ground For ]>]easure; but through all this tract of years
Wearing the white flower
of a blameless
life,
Before a thousand peering littlenesses. In that fierce light which beats upon a throne. And blackens every blot: for where is he.
Who
lovelier life, a
Oi"
how should ICngland dreaming of his sons Hope more for these than some inheritance
Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine, Thou noble Father of liei* Kings <o be, Laborious for Ium' poo]>i<' and her j)oor
A'oice in the rich
Far-sighted
dawn summoner
of an
d;'.y
>\'asle
36
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
fruitful strifes
To
and
rivalries of peace
Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam Of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art, Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed, Beyond all titles, and a household name. Hereafter, through all times, Albert the Good!
Break not, O woman's-heart, but still endure; Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure,
Remembering all the beauty of that star Which shone so close beside Thee, That ve made One light together, but has passed and left The Crown of lonely splendor.
May
His
love,
all love,
unseen but
of all
felt,
o'ershadow Thee.
of all of all
Thy sous encompass Thee, Thy daughters cherish Thee, Thy people comfort Thee,
God's love set Thee at his side again! ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
TO
viriniL.
[Written at the request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of Virgil's death, B. c. 19.]
I.
Roman
1
1
VirjiiK
tlioii tliat
singest
in fire,
ion's lofty
temples robed
a rising,
faith,
11 ion
falling,
Rome
filial
wars, and
II.
T.andsfajie-lover, lord
<f
langnage
Tho]i that singcst wlicaf ami woodland. tillli and \iiicyai(l. hi\(' and horse and herd;
All the
charm
of all
llic
Mnscs
lonely
Oi
often (lowering
in a
word;
38
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
IV.
Poet of the bappj Tityriis piping imdeineatli his beechen bowers; Poet of the poet-satyr whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;
Summers
Thou that
seest Universal
;
Thou majestic
in thy
sadness
at the doubtful
doom
VII.
of
human
kind;
Light
among the vanish'd ages; star that gildest yet this phantom shore; Golden branch amid the shadows,
kings and realms that pass to rise no more;
VIII.
Now
thy Forum roars no longer, fallen every purple C;csar's dome Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm
sound
Rome
39
Now
I,
the
Rome
and the Koine of freemen holds her from out the Northern Island sundered once from all the human
X.
race,
I salute thee,
I
Mantovano,
my day began, Wielder of the stateliest measure ever moulded by the lips of man. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.
that loved thee since
IN
These
bred.
Each softly lucent as a rounded moon The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.
;
('(nt('mpl;iti(ni
llioiigiils,
Iclls
lici'
jK'usive
beads
or mortal
NN'hy,
moiai?
will
Where
Doubt's
eddies
loss
and
ill
her fooling
l)eiie;illi
reel,
llie wliii'l,
Plunge:
if y<ii
liiid
iiol
|)eaee
like ()iiiar
^rasp
a jM-arl.
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
TO MADAME DE SEVIGNE
PLAYING blind-man's-buff.
talk, walk, or move, day than another: When blinded you're taken for Love; When the bandage is off for his mother! MATHIEU DB MONTREUIL.
more on
this
GEORGE SAND.
True
genius, but true
woman
dost deny
Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn, And break away the gauds and armlets worn By weaker women in captivity?
Ah, vain denial that revolted cry Is sobbed in by a woman's voice forlorn; Thy woman's hair, my sister, all unshorn. Floats back dishevelled strength in agony, Disproving thy man's name; and while before The world thou burnest in a poet-fire, We see thy woman-heart beat evermore Through the large llame. Beat purer, heart, and
!
higher,
God unsex thee on the heavenly shore, Where unincarnate spirits purely aspire.
Till
41
TO VICTOR HUGO.
Victor in poesy! Victor in romance! Cloud-weaver of i)liantasnial hopes and fears! French of tlie French and lord of human tears! Child-lover, bard, whose fame-lit laurels glance, Darkenini'- the wreaths of all lliat would advance Beyond our strait their claim to be thy peers!
Weird Titan, by thy wintry weii>ht of years As yet unbroken! Stoi-my voice of France,
"Who does not love our
I
I']nji,land,
so thev sav;
know
England, Fi'ance, all men to be. Will juake one ])eoi)le, ere man's race be run;
not!
And
I, desiring that diviner day. Yield thee full thanks for thy full courtesy To vounger England in the bo\', iii\- son.
ALKKi:i),
lAmu TEXNYSOX.
ON A
Sick,
P.UST
OF DANTE. u
' :
from
this counterfeit of
shall
him
long.
\\'lio!ii
.\rii()
remember
How
sicrn of liiicniiMMit,
how
grim,
Tlu^ father
Tuscan song! There Imt Ihe burning sense of wrong, l*ei-]el iial eai'e, and seoni. ;ibide Small frieiidsliip I'nr Hie loi-dly throng,
of
was
Distrust of
all
Faithful
if
lliis \\;iii
im:ige be.
No dream
iiis life
was
bul a
light;
42
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Could any Beatrice see
To that
Who
could have guessed the visions came Of beauty, veiled with heavenly light, In circles of eternal tlame?
The lips as Cuma^'s cavern close, The cheeks with fast and sorrow thin, The rigid front, almost morose, But for the patient hope within. Declare a life whose course hath been
Unsullied
sin,
Kept
itself icj-chaste
and
clear.
haggard look once, forlorn, he strayed, With no companion save his book, To Corvo's hushed monastic shade;
his
When wandering
Where, as the Benedictine laid His palm upon the pilgrim guest, The single boon for which he prayed
rest.
Peace dwells not here this rugged face Betrays no spirit of repose;
The sullen Avarrior sole we trace, The marble man of many woes. Such was his mien when first arose The thought of that strange tale divine
When
43
birth;
used Home's harlot for his mirth; Plucked bare hypocrisy and crime;
IJut valiant souls of knightly
worth
Transmitted to the
rolls of time.
time whose verdicts mock our own, The only righteous judge art thou; That poor, old exile, sad and lone,
!
Is T^atium's other Virgil now. Before his name the nations bow;
His words are parcel of mankind, Deep in whose hearts, as on his brow, The marks have sunk of Dante's mind. THOMAS WILLIAM I'ARSONS.
moonlit
air,
I>ul
Breaks
like the
dawn
(li;i(
Hushes red,
And
The
nice a rose.
;il>ov(' liis p;i(li.
And musif
44
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
What What
As
mortal such a triumph hath, B3' death set free?
earthly hands and heart are pure
Nor
quail to see?
Ah! this was he who drank the fount Of wisdom set in speechless things,
Who,
!
watched the day-star mount, While others slept. Ah this was he whose loving soul Found heart-beats under trembling wings, And heard divinest music roll
patient,
leapt.
And children's dreamings ran in tune, And strange old heroes, weird and dim.
Walked by
The
ver}^
his side.
And danced and flickered in the moon. And left him wondrous tales to tell Men far and wide.
he smiling walks
Through greenwood alleys full of sun, And, as he wanders, turns and talks. Though none be there; The children watch in vain the place. ^"S'here they were wont, when day was done, To see their poet's sweet worn face.
And
faded hair.
45
Though
all its
He
The
sings
anew;
racked with pain, scored with vigil, fades awav, The soul set free and young again
frail soul-covering,
And
Glides
upward through.
not, but watch the moonlit air! Perchance a glory like a star May leave what hangs about him there, And (lash on us Behold! the void is full of light,
I .
.
Weep
to
bar
And
all
Grow luminous!
EDMUND
GOSSE.
AX
km;<;v
ox
fimi;xi*s
ASTKOI'IIILL."
Wri'iiix
llif'sc
The Muses mcl him cv'i y day. taiiulit him sing, to \\i-i((\ and
\\'Ih'Ii
say.
His
|)('is<(nage sci'iiK'd
mosl
(Ii\iiu',
4G
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Upon his lovely, cheerfull eine; To lieare him speake and sweetly You were in Paradise the Avhile.
smile,
full
Continual
I
comfort
in a face,
Was never eie did see that face. Was never eare did heare that tong, Was never minde did minde his grace,
That ever thought the travell long; But eies, and eares, and ev'ry thought.
Were with
MATTHEW
ROYDEN.
no dark time,
The wonder of a learned age; the line Which none can pass! the most proportioned
wit,
what was fit; The deei)est, jdainest, highest, clearest pen; The voice most echoed by consenting men The soul which answered best to all well said By others, and Avhich most requital made; Tuned to the highest key of ancient Kome,
nature, the best judge of
;
To
Returning
all
47
Here lies Ben Jonson! every age will look AVith sorrow here, with wonder on his book.
JOHN CLEVELAND.
Say how
or
when
lyric feasts,
Meet at those
Made
at the Sun,
As made And
My
Or come
Thy
Ben!
to us
again,
Or send
But teach us yet
Wisclv to husband
Ix'st
it,
we that
That
talent spend
And having
Of such a
once brought to
nii
cud
no more.
wit, the
world should
lia\('
ROllEUT llEUItlClC.
4S
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
As
in brass.
But Not
BEN JONSON.
TO THE M E:\I0RY OF MY BELOVED MAS= TER, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND WHAT HE HATH LEFT US.
Am
As
To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, I thus ample to thy book and fame
;
AVhile
confess thy writings to be such neither man nor Muse can praise too much.
I
wonder
still,
I will not lodge thee by or or bid Beaumont lie Chaucer, Spenser, little further off, to make thee room:
My
vShakesi)eare, rise!
Thou
art a
monument without
And
art alive
*
live,
Droesliout.
49
And we
That
I
I
have wits to read, and praise to give. so, my biain excuses, mean with great but disproportioued Muses:
not mix thee
For
I
if I thought my judgment were of years, should commit thee surely with thy peers.
And
tell
Or sporting Kyd
hoAv far thou didst our Lvly outshine, or Marlowe's mighty line.
And though thou had small Latin and less From thence to lionor thee I will not seek
Greek,
For names; but call forth thundering Eschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles to us, Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To live again, to hear thy buskin tread, And shake a stage or when thy socks were on,
:
Leave thee alone for the comparison Of all, that insolent Greece or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Trium])Ii, my liritain, thou hast one to show, To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their [)rime,
^^'h('u, like Ajtollo,
Oiii-
he
came
forth to
warm
Mercury, to charm! Nature herself was proud of his designs. And joyed to wear the dressing of his Hues! Which were so richly spun, and woven so tit.
cars, or like a
The iiiei-ry Greek, lai't Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not Rut anti(|uated and deserted lie. As they were not of nature's family.
Yet ninst
1
please:
not gi\-e
n:il
nn-
all
tliyai-t.
My
VII 4
50
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses' anvil turn And himself with it, that he
;
Or for the laurel gain a scorn; For a good poet 's made as well as born. And such wert thou Look how the father's face
!
manners brightly
:
In his well turned and true filed lines In each of which he seems to shake a lance, As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
Sweet Swan of Avon what a sight it were see thee in our water yet appear. And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James!
!
To
But
Advanced, and made a constellation there! Shine forth, thou Star of Poets, and with rage,
Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage Which since thy flight from hence hath mourned
like night,
And
rEIi.SOXAL:
GREAT
^YRITER8.
51
SHAKESPEARE.
FROM
"
PROLOGUE.".
in
[Spoken by Mr. Garrick at the opeuing of the Theatre Druiy Lane, in 1747.]
When
First
foes
reared
rose;
immortal
Shakesi)eare
Each eliange of many-colored life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new: Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign. And panting Time toiled after him in vain: His powerful strokes presiding Truth impressed,
And
SAMUEL JOHNSON.
What
needs
bones.
my
The labor of an age in piled stones? Or that his haUowed relics should he liid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of momoiy. great heir of fame, What iiced'st thou such weak witness
naiiic?
of
thy
Thou Hast
in
monument.
52
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
art
For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavoring Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath fi'om the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And
so sepulchred in such
pomp
dost
lie.
to die.
MILTON.
SHAKESPEARE.
The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed centre. Like that ark,
Which
in its sacred hold uplifted high,.
hills, the human family. stock reserved of every living kind. So, in the compass of the single mind. The seeds and pregnant forms in essence lie.
And
That make
art
all
worlds.
Great poet,
't
was thy
To know
Whate'er
thyself,
and
in thyself to be
Can make
of
man.
still
the same,
own
flame.
HARTLEY COLERIDGE.
53
GUILTELMUS REX.
The folk who lived in Shakespeare's day x\nd saw that gentle ligure pass
Bv London Bridge, his frequent wnj Thev little knew what man he was.
The pointed beard, the coui-teous mien, The equal port to high and low, All this they saw or might have seen But not the light behind the brow!
The doublet's modest gray or brown, The slender sword-hilt's plain device, What sign had these for prince or clown? Few turned, or none, to scan him twice.
Yet
't
The rest with Are mouldered, half-rememb(M-ed things 'T is he alone that lives and reigns!
HIERARCUY OF ANGELS.
Mellifluous
(pi
ill
Shakespeare,
iiiirtli
whose
enchanting
Coiiiiiiiiinlcd
oi-
jcissiou.
And famous
.Jousou. lliougli his learned jicii r.c (lipped iu ('aslaly, is still bul Hcu. Fletcliei- and Webster, of Ihat leariK'd jack
N(u('
(if th(^
And
he's but
now
54
DESCRIPTIVE POEM 8.
PARADISE LOST."
Three
Poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of nature could no further go;
To make a
former two.
JOHN dryden.
TO MILTON.
"
LONDON,
1802."
England hath need of thee she is a fen Of stagnant waters altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men
;
Oh raise us up, return to us again And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart:
!
Thou hadst a
sea:
voice
like the
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way. In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
55
The feather, whence the pen shaped that traced the lives of these good men Dropped from an angel's wing. With moistened
So
fair as these.
Was
eve
We read
of faith and purest charity In statesman, priest, and humble citizen: O, could we copy their mild virtues, then What joy to live, what blessedness to die!
Methinks their very names shine still and bright; like glow-worms on a summer night; Or lonely tapers wlien from far they tling A guiding ray or seen, like stars on high,
Apart,
TUE SONNET.
SroR\ not the sonnet
Mindless of
its
ci-itic, you have frowned, with this key honors; just the melody his unlocked heart; Shakespeare Of this small lute gave ease to Pclrarcirs wound; A llious:iii(l times this jiipe <lid Tasso sound;
;
ANilli
il
<
';iiiio('iis
sooliied
:iii
exile's grief;
The sonnet
glittered a
gay myitle
leaf
Amid
Daute crowned
50
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
His visionaiy brow; a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from fairy-land To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew
Soul-animating strains,
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
CAMP-BELL.
CHARADE.
Co:\iE
And
the screaming
Fight as thy father fought Fall as thy father fell Thy task is taught; thy shroud So forward and farewell
;
is
wrought;
second, toll Fling high the flambeau's light, And sing the hymn for a parted soul
!
Toll ye
my
Beneath the
silent night!
The wreath upon his head. The cross upon his breast. Let the prayer be said and the tear be shed, take him to his rest I So,
57
mv
whole,
ay,
call
;
The lord of lute aud lav And let him oroet the sable pall
"With a noble song to-day.
To
fame
On
TO THOMAS IMOORE. My
boat
is
And mv bark
But before I go, Tom Moore, Here 's a double health to thee
Here
's
And
And, whatever sky 's above me. Here 's a heart for ovory fate!
Though
Yet
tiie
it still
Thongii a dcscrl sIkiiiIi! sni-i-ound me. It hath sjirings dial may be won.
Were
As
'T
't
T
gas])ed
Ere my fainting
is
to thee that
would
driidc.
58
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS,
With
The
that water, as this wine, libation I wouhl i)Our
be,
Should
And a
health to thee,
LORD BYRON.
SHELLEY.
The odor
of a rose
:
light of a star
The essence of a flame blown on bj wind, That lights and warms all near it, bland and kind, But a^e consumes itself, as though at war With what su^jports and feeds it; from afar It draws its life, but evermore inclined To leap into the flame that makes men blind
Who
Who
And
mounted ever up on eagle-wings Of phantasy: had aimed at heaven and Promethean fire for men to be as gods,
dwell in free, aerial abodes.
stole
MEMORABILIA.
Ah, did you once
see Shelley plain,
And did he stop and speak to you. And did you speak to him again?
How
strange
it
59
My
I
crossed a moor, with a name of its own And a certain use in the world, no doubt,
Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 'Mid the blank miles round about:
For there
And
there
ROBERT BROWNING.
BYRON.
FROM
^'TIIE
IV.
He
tranced.
As some
vast river of unfailing source, cxhaustless. deep, his numbers flowed. Kapid, And opened new fountains in the human heart.
Where Fancy
halted,
weary
in
her
flight,
In othei- men, his fresh as morning rose. And soared untrodden heights, and seemed at
liome.
Where angels
grent.
bashful
looked.
Others,
though
60
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
He, from above deseeuding, stooped to touch The loftiest thought; aud proudly stooj)ed, as though It scarce deserved his verse. With Nature's self He seemed an old acquaintance, free to jest
At
He laid his hand upon " the Ocean's mane," And played familiar with his hoary locks;
Stood on the Alps, stood on the Apennines,
In sportive twist, the lightning's tiery wing, Which, as the footsteps of the dreadful God, Marching upon the storm in vengeance, seemed; Then turned, and with the grasshopper, who sung His evening song beneath his feet, conversed. Suns, moons, aud stars, and clouds his sisters were
;
Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, and winds, and storms His brothers, younger brothers, whom he scarce
As
equals deemed.
The wild and tame, the gentle and severe; All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane;
All creeds; all seasons, time, eternity; All that was hated, and all that was dear; A'l that was hoped, all that was feared,
man,
by
He
tossed about, as tempest-withered leaves; Then, smiling, looked uion the wreck he nuide,
\\\i\\ terror
And now
PER.^OXAL:
But back
Dark, sullen, proud,
GREAT WRITERS.
gazins>-
Gl
contemptuously
ROBERT POLLOK.
Uu
MACAULAY AS
The dreamy
POET.
Falls heavy on our ears no more; And bv Ion"' strides are left behind
of
womankind.
Who wage
And have achieved the crowning work When they have trussed and skewered a
Another comes with stouter tread.
Turk.
High-crested Scott, broad-breasted Burns; And shows the British youth, who ne'er
A\'ill
lag behind,
all
AMicM
ON
Till-:
Nor
]']ngender(Ml,
hangs
complain
62
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS,
For kindred PoAver departing from tlieir sight; While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe
strain,
Saddens his voice again, and yet again. Lift up your hearts, ve Mourners! for the might Of the whole world's good wishes with him goes; Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue
Than sceptred king or laurelled conqueror knows, Follow this wondrous Potentate. P>e true, Ye winds of ocean, and the midland sea,
Wafting your Charge to
soft Partlieno])e!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
Gave
'T
is
hardwhile
And
Through vernal bowers are burning, streams their diamond mirrors hold To Summer's face retuifiing
his sleep
Shall nevermore be lighter. In whose sweet-tongued companionship Stream, bower, and beam grow brighter!
all the more intensely true His soul gave out each feature Of elemental love, each hue
But
And
PER.SOXAL:
GREAT WRITERS.
;
63
The deeper still beneath it all Lurked the keen jags of anguish The more the laurels clasped his brow
Their poison made
it
languish.
Seemed it that, like the nightingale Of his own mournful singing, The tenderer would his song prevail While most the thorn was stinging.
So never to the desert-worn Did fount bring freshness deeper
Than that his placid rest this morn Has brought the shrouded sleeper.
rest may lap his weary head Where charnels choke the city, Or where, mid woodlands, by his bed The wren shall wake its dittv;
That
But near or
Is
far,
Around
BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS.
BURNS.
A poet's EPrrAPii.
Stop, mortal
!
lies,
((ni
heart's wail,
The
l\i-;uit.
64
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The
street, the factory, the jail,
The palace, and the grave! Sin met thy brother everywhere! And is thy brother blamed? From passion, danger, doubt, and care He no exemption claimed. The meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm,
He feared to scorn or hate; But, honoring in a peasant's form The equal of the great,
makes The poor man's little more; Yet loathed the haughty wretch that takes
blessed the steward, whose wealth
He
From plundered
labor's store.
man's worst foes, here lies the man ,Who drew them as they are. EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
BURNS.
ON RECEIVING A SPRIG OF HEATHER IN BLOSSOM.
No more
To
Scottish
in the
maid and
lover;
over.
Sown
common
soil of song.
The minstrel and the heather, The deathless singer and the flowers
He sang
of live together.
PERi^OXAL:
GREAT WRITERS.
!
G5
Wild lieather-bells and Robert Burns! The moorland flower and peasant How, at their mention, memory turns Her pages old and pleasant!
The gray sky wears again
its
gold
hold
soi'
the wings of pleasure, The sky, that flecked the ground of toil
off
From
of leisure.
mind the summer day, The early harvest mowing. The sky with sun and clouds at
And
I
Die corn.
The locust in the haying; And, like the fabled hunter's horn,
Old tunes
my
heart
is
playing.
<luy,
sought (he maple's shadow. And sang with lUirns the hours away,
Forgetful of the
meadow
lieiiid
g(K)(l
1h(! S(piirrels
leajting;
I
The
VII
66
I
DE^CBIPTJYE POEMS.
watched him while in sportive mood " I read The Twa Dogs' " story, And half believed he understood The poet's allegory.
New light on home-seen Nature New glory over Woman And daily life and duty seemed No longer poor and common.
;
beamed,
woke to find the simple truth Of fact and feeling better Than all the dreams that held my youth
I
still
repining debtor:
That Nature gives her handmaid. Art, The themes of sweet discoursing; The tender idyls of the heart
,
In
ever}^
tongue rehearsing.
Why
dream of lands of gold and pearl. Of loving knight and lady, When farmer boy and barefoot girl
Were wandering
I
there already?
saw through all familiar things The romance underlying; The joys and griefs that plume the wings Of Fancy skyward flying.
G7
And sank
I
on crystal Devon.
matched with Scotland's heathery hills The sweet-brier and the clover With Ayr and Doou, my native rills.
;
Xo
The
With
clearer eyes I saw the worth Of life among the lowly; The Bible at his Cotter's hearth Had made my own more holy.
And
To
if
ear,
Let those who never erred forget His worth, in vain bcwailings; Sweet Soul of Song! >\\ u my debt Uncancelled bv his failings:
I
68
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Lament who will the ribald line Which tells his lapse from dnty, How kissed the maddening lips of wine, Or wanton ones of beauty;
But think, while falls that shade between The erring one and Heaven, That he who loved like Magdalen,
Like her
may
be forgiven.
Not
And
To
Through all his tuneful art, how strong The human feeling gushes! The very moonlight of his song Is warm with smiles and blushes!
Give lettered
So
"
to teeth of Time,
"
;
But spare
"
G9
now on
He
Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake, Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing:
He
The
of the rose, the violet, the spring, social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake:
!
And
lo whose steadfastness would never take meaner sound than Raphael's whispering.
And other spirits there are, standing apart Upon the forehead of the age to come
;
These, these will give the world another heart, And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?
ON A PORTRAIT OF WORDSWORTH,
BY
A\'ouiis\V(>itTir
l>hl
B. R.
HAYDON.
Lot the cloud
upon Ilelvcllynl
Then
TIh' sense
And
with licauty. //c. humble-lidded eyes, as one inclined liefore llie sox'ran llmnglil ol' liis own mind. And very meek with inspira ions proud,
I
Takes here
liis righll'iil
70
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
the high-altar, singing prayer and prayer
free,
By
To the hlgiier Heavens. A noble vision Our Haydon's hand hath flung out from No portrait this, with Academic air,
the mist
This
is
little
allowed;
famous for its invective, was made on Wordsworth, after tlie latter had accepted the post of Poet Laureate (1843), tlius, in Brownby Browning
ing's view, deserting the people
and
government. Wordsworth's only official poem, however, was on the installation of Albert, Prince Consort, as Chancellor of Cambridge University in 1847 and in 1850 he died so that the protest of Browning was not justified. " I did in Indeed, in 1875, Browning himself wrote: my hast J' youth presume to use the great and venerated perone sonality of Wordsworth as a sort of painter's motlel from which this or the other particular feature may be selected and turned to account liad I intended more I should not liave talked about liandf uls of silver and bits of ribbon.' Tliese never influenced tlie change' of politics
;
'
was
my
71
How
Rags were
proud
!
all
We
ac-
Made him our pattern to live and to die! Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us, they watch from
their graves!
He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves
!
We
shall
march prospering,
;
not
ence
bidding crouch
lask
trod,
name, then,
one
lost soul
more,
One
One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for One wrong more to man, one niore
(Jod
!
let him never come back to us! There wonhl be donl)l. hesitation, and pain. Forced ju-aise on our part the glimmer of twi-
light.
Never glad confident morning again Best fight on well, for we taught him -strike ga)
I
lautly,
72
DESGEIPTIYE
POEIihS.
Menace our heart ere we master liis OAvn; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait
us,
Pardoned
MEMORIAL VERSES.
APRIL,
1850.
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece, Long since, saw R.vron's struggle cease. Rut one such death remained to come; The last poetic voice is dumb
We
When
We
He taught us little; but our soul Had felt him like the thunder's roll.
With shivering heart the strife we saw Of passion with eternal law And yet with reverential awe
;
We
of fiery life
Which served
When
Sunk, then,
He He
human
race,
read each wound, each weakness clear And struck his finger on the place.
said: TJiou ailest here,
And
and here!
73
Of fitful dream and feverish power; His eye plunged down the weltering The turmoil of expiring life He said The end is everywhere,
strife,
Art
still
And
he
was happy,
if
to
know
Causes of things, and far below His feet to see the lurid How Of terror, and insane distress,
And headlong
And
fate, be happiness.
^\'ordsworth
Ah,
]>ale
ghosts, rejoice!
For never has such soothing voice IJeen to your shadowy world conveyed, Since erst, at morn, some wandering shade Heard the clear song of Orpheus come Through Hades, and the mournful gloom. Wordsworth has gone from us and ye. Ah, mav ve feel his voice as we!
On
th(;
cool llowery
laj)
of earth,
and we had ease; The hills were i-ound us, and the bree/.e ^^'eIlt o'er the snn lit Melds again; Our roicli(M(ls fell the wind and lain.
Smiles bi-oke
I'loni ns.
(.)ur \()uth
74
DE^CRIPTtVE POEMS.
On
spirits tliat liad long been dead,
Spirits dried up and closely furled, The freshness of the early world.
Ah
since dark days still bring to light Man's prudence and man's fiery might,
!
Time may
mind and Byron's force; But where will Europe's latter hour Again find Wordsworth's healing power?
Goethe's sage
Others will teach us how to dare, And against fear our breast to steel; Others will strengthen us to bear But who, ah who, will make us feel? The cloud of mortal destiny, Others will front it fearlessly
But who, like him, will put it by? Keep fresh the grass upon his grave,
Rotha, with thy living wave!
Sing him thy best! for few or none Hears thy voice right, now he is gone.
MATTHEW
ARNOLD.
thou then?
To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave. The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men ?
Not Milton's keen, translunar music thine; Not Shakespeare's cloudless, boundless human
view ;
MATIHEW ARNOLD
75
Nor jet
What
hadst thou that could make so large amends For all thou hadst not and thy peers possessed, Motion and fire, swift means to radiant ends? Thou hadst for weary feet the gift of rest.
From Shelley's dazzling glow or thunderous haze, From B^Ton's tempest-anger, tempest-mirth, Men turned to thee and found not blast and
blaze.
Tumult
Xor
But
jeace that
in
There
])eace whose names are also rapture, power. Clear sight, and love: for these are parts of
peace.
WILLIAM WATSON.
IN
by
side.
bring,
Freedom and
spring.
to sea,
sun; All things conic back lo her, being free; All things but one.
76 In
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
many a
tender wlieaten plot
Flowers that were dead Live, and old suns revive; but not That holier head.
By
this white
of sea,
One
me
As once
this year
On mine
as there,
prest
linger.
Half run before; The youngest to the oldest singer bore. That England ^&'
I
But thou,
If
anything endure, hope there be, spirit that man's life left pure, Man's death set free,
if
PER.SOSAL:
Come back
GREAT WRITERS.
art not
77
Where thou
We
find
none
like thee.
Time and
strife
And
Move
thee no
more
And
reverent heart
May move
And
thou, his Florence, to thy trust Keceive and keep. Keep safe his dedicated dust,
His sacred
sleep.
far,
So
As
A WT.LCOME TO
ON HIS FIRST
VISIT TO
"
BOZ,"
THE WEST.
Come
Lov('<l of cliildren.
loved of
iikmi.
We
liavi' felt
tliy spell
for years;
Oft with laughter, oft with tears, Tiiou hast touchetl the t^nderest part Of our inmost, hidden heart.
We
78
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
On thy pages nights and days, Wishing, as we turned them Like poor Oliver, for " more,"
o'er,
And
Till
memory remain, through them we seem to be Old acquaintances of thee. Much we hold it thee to greet.
In our
On
As upon
And
thy voice would grateful hear, Glad to feel that Boz were near,
In immortal Weller's name, By Micawber's deathless fame. By the flogging v/reaked on Squeers^
By Job Trotter's fluent tears. By the beadle Bumble's fate At the hands of vixen mate, By the famous Pickwick Club, By the dream of Gabriel Grul)b. In the name of Snodgrass' muse,
Tupman's amorous
interviews.
And the fat boy's countless naj^s; By Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer, By Miss Sally Brass, the lawyer, In the name of Newman Noggs,
PERf^OXAL:
GREAT WRITERS.
79
By Jack Bnusby's oracles, By the chime of Christmas bells, By the cricket on the hearth,
Scrooge's frown and Crotchit's mirth, By spread tables and good cheer.
of beer,
Hostess plump and jolly host. Coaches for the turnpike ])0st. Chambermaids in love with Boots,
Toodles, Traddles, Tapley, Toots, Jarley, Varden, Mister Dick,
Podsuap, Pecksniff, Chuzzlewit, Quilp and Simon Tapi)ertit, ^^'eg and Boflin, Smike and Paul, Nell and Jenny NN'ren and all,
Be not Sairy Gamp forgot, No, nor l*eggotty and Trot,-=By poor Barnaby and Crip. Flora, Dora, Di, and Clip, I'eerybingle, T'inch, and Pip,
Til
llic
name
of gentle Nell,
("liild
of light,
^^'('('ping, (lid
80
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Better
we
Shed beside her snowy bier, By the mournful group that played Round the grave where Sniike was
laid,
him,
that bore
Good
By
And
Welcome
fills
DICKENS IN CAMP.
Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below; The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting
Their minarets of snow.
81
The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, i)ainted The ruddy tints of health On haiiji^ard face and form that drooped and
fainted
In the
Till
wealth
one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure hoarded volume drew. And cards were dropped from hands of listless
leisure.
To
anew;
And
then, while
faster.
And
as the firelight
He
Had
Perhaps
was bo^Msh fancy, for the reader Was youngest of them all, But. as he read, from clustering pine and cedar
A
The
silence
seemed to
fall:
fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows. Listened in every spray. While the whole camp, with "Nell," on English
lost
tlioii-
way.
And
so in mountain solitudes
As by some
spell divine
o'ertaken
Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine.
VII
(j
82
DE^CRIPTIYE POEMS.
that camp, and wasted all its fire; And he who wrought that spell?
is
Lost
spire,
Ye have one
Lost
is
tale to tell!
let its
fragrant story
thrills
With
hop-vines' incense all the pensive glory That fills the Kentish hills.
And on that grave where English oak and And laurel wreathes intAvine, Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,
This spray of Western pine.
holly
BRET HARTE.
DICKENS.
Whom
thy generation born of men English praise acclaimed as English born. With eyes that matched the world-wide e^es of
Chief
in
or
Reverence of age
v>'ith
love
with godlike scorn, Shot through them flame that winged thy swift live pen Where stars and suns that we beheld not burn, Higher even than here, though highest was here
pity fired
:
Or godlike
thy place,
spirit laugh
83
And
Fielding's kindliest miglil, an<l Goldsmith's grace; Scarce one more loved or worlhier than thine.
TO THACKERAY.
O Gentler Censor of our age! Prime master of onr ampler tongue! "Whose word of wit and generous page Were never wroth except with Wrong.
Fielding without the manner's dross, Scott with a spirit's larger room, >\'hat Prelate deems thy grave his loss?
What
Put. may be, He who could so draw The hidden Great, the humble Wise Yielding with them to God's good law, Makes the Pantheon wlierc lie lies.
TENNYSON.
Shakespeare and Milton
what
third blazoned
name
Shall lips of after-ages link to these?
seas.
Was
lOngland's voice, hei- Noicc willi one acclaim. For lluce s<(re years; w Iiosc woid of pi-aisc was
faiiic.
Whose
iiian's iiupiities.
84
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
strain
What
was
his in that
Crimean war?
low breath, Plaintive and sweet, above the fields of death! So year hj year the music rolled afar, From Euxine wastes to flowery Kandahar,
bugle-call in battle; a
But thou, O builder of enduring rhyme. Thou shalt not pass! Thy fame in every clime On earth shall live where Saxon speech has
sway.
Waft me
Through
blind-
ing sleet, O wintry winds, and lay it at his feet; Though the poor gift betray my poverty,
At
it
may chance
that he
is,
Will find no
where reverence
unmeet.
LACHRYM.E MUSARUM.
(6TH OCTOBER,
1982.)
Low, like another's, lies the laurelled head: The life that seemed a perfect song is o'er:
Carrv the
last great
bard to his last bed. loved, thy noblest voice is mute. loved, that loved him! nevermore
85
smooth hiwu or wild seashore, odorous bloom aud tremulous fruit, Or woodhuids old, like Druid couches spread,
(iartleiis of
The
Death's
dead.
Lo, in this season pensive-hued and grave. falls the doomed, reluctant leaf
From withered
]M ingles
With wandering
the
murmur
He
For
us, the
And Him
autumn glow, the autumn flame. soon the winter silence^ shall be ours:
the eternal spring of fadeless fame
flowers.
Kapt
tlioiigh
ho bo fi'om us.
and Theocritus; Catullus, mightiest-brained Lucretius, each Cireets him, their brother, on the Stygian beach;
Virgil salutes him,
I
.Milton aiKJ
Hriglit
foam.
Calm
His
Sjionsoi-,
Chaucer
su;'.\o.
And
Of
godlike spiiits
linil
him guest,
in
speiMli
Kome.
8G
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
What
needs his hiurel our ephemeral tears,
To save from visitation of decay? Not in his temporal sunlight, now, that bay Blooms, nor to perishable mundane ears
Sings he with lips of transitory clay;
his peers
:
He
Him
Of universal
All nature
his shrine.
sea.
Seek him henceforward in the wind and In earth's and air's emotion or repose, In every star's august serenity.
And
in the raj^ture of the flaming rose. if ye would not seek in vain, in the There, rhythm and music of the Whole;
human
soul
his strain.
Made
For
And what
And
Whereto the worlds keep time, all things move with all things from their prime? Who shall expound the mystery of the lyre? Til far retreats of elemental mind Obscurely comes and goes The imperative breath of song, that as the wind
87
Extort her crimson secret from the rose, But ask not of the Muse that she disclose
Save the enigma The master could not tell, with all his lore, Wherefore he sang, or whence the mandate sped Even as the linnet sings, so I, he said;
That held in trance the ancient Attic shore. And charms the ages with the notes that o'er All woodland chants immortally ])revail And now, from our vain plaudits greatly fled,
!
He with diviner silence dwells instead. And on no earthly sea with transient roar.
Unto no earthly airs, he trims his sail, But far beyond our vision and our hail Is heard forever and is seen no more.
No more, never now. Lord of the lofty and the tranquil brow Whereon nor snows of time
Have
Shall
fallen,
men
Once,
in liisyonlli obscui'e.
The maker of
Wy
r.rlicid
llicc
spN'nddr of ils
cNc lo eye,
llicc llic liaiid
AihI
(oticlicil tlircMigli
Of every hero of thy iiicc (li\iii('. iiiclN'd Even lo Ihe sire of nil IIkI;i
line.
88
DESCBIPTIYE POEMS.
The sightless wanderer on the Ionian strand, With soul as healthful as the poignant brine, Wide as his skies and radiant as his seas, Starry from haunts of his Familiars nine,
Glorious ]\hponides.
I beheld thee, and behold thee yet: Thou hast forgotten, but can I forget? The accents of thy pure and sovereign tongue, Are they not ever goldenly imprest
Yea,
On memory's
I see the
I I
palimpsest? wizard locks like night that hung, tread the floor thy hallowing feet have trod; see the hands a nation's lyre that strung.
life
and gazed on
shift
and
of yesteryear the birds depart, the groves decay Empires dissolve and peoples disappear:
;
The grass
little dust.
And
kings a dubious legend of their reign; The swords of Ca?sars, they are less than rust
The poet doth remain. Dead is Augustus, Maro is alive; And thou, the Mantuan of our age and clime. Like Virgil shalt thy race and tongue survive, Bequeathing no less honeyed words to time.
Embalmed in and)er of eternal rhyme. And rich with sweets from every Muse's
While
to the
hive;
80
And
With
WILLIAM WATSON.
ROBERT BROWNING.
There
delight in singing, though none hear Beside the singer; and there is delight
is
j)raiser sit
alone
And
Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's, Therefore on him no speech! and brief for thee,
Browning!
No man
hath walked along our roads with step So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue
So varied
in discourse.
Give brighter ])luinage, stronger wing: the breeze Of Alpine heights thou ]layest with, borne on Beyond Sorrento and Amalfi, where
thee, singing
WALTER
LANDOR.
Tin:
liriMAL OF
I'l'ox St.
ROBERT BROWNING.
They
Thai
lie
laid
Iccl
might
Otcnirs
lull
embrace,
90
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Tlie subject
As
and the passion of his race. from some lovely underground Springing, she girds him round With la])ping sound
Thetis,
And
silent space:
Then, on more honor bent, She sues the firmament. And bids the hovering, western clouds combine
To spread
It
their sabled
brine.
might not be
should lie free Forever in the soft light of the sea; For lo one came, Of step more slow than fame, Stooped over him we heard her breathe his
!
He
name
as the light drew back, Bore him across the track Of the subservient waves that dare not foil That veiled, maternal figure of its spoil.
And
Ah
Until at
last,
Within a narrow transept led, Lo! she unwraps her face to pall her dead.
'T is
far,
Di
We kiss her A
feet,
her hands,
dumb
Who
become
Part of the glory that her sons would bleed To save from scar Yea, hers in very deed
;
As Runnjmede, Or Trafalgar.
MICHAEL
FIELD.
1820.
Green be the
love thee,
to praise.
dying,
From eyes unused to weep. And long, where thou art lying.
Will tears the cold turf steep.
When
TJUe
hearts,
lliiiie.
whose
trutli
was proven,
To
tell
And
To
1,
thy hand in mine, Wlio shared thy joy and sorrow, ^^'hose we;il and woe wei-e thine,
chisj*
02
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
It slionld be
mine to braid
it
And
Nor
feel I
cannot now.
me weep
thee,
free,
The grief is fixed too deeply That mourns a man like thee.
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK.
[Read at
tlie
May,
1877.]
Amoxg
Thy
whom
gift
Not his the soldier's sword to wield, Nor his the helm of state, Nor glory of the stricken field, Nor triumph of debate.
In
common ways, with common men, He served his race and time
well as
As
Had
If, in
the thronged and noisy nmrt, The Muses found their son. Could any say his tuneful art A duty left undone?
93
street.
The Greek's wild onset Wall Street knew, The Red King walked Broadway; And Alnwick Castle's roses blew
From
Palisades to Bay.
Fair City by the Sea! npraise His veil with reverent hands; And mingle with thy own the praise.
And
Let Greece his fiery lyric breathe Above her hero-nrns And Scotland, with her holly, wreathe The flowers he culled for Burns.
;
Thy
tall
Xot less thy i)ulse of trade shall beat. Nor less thy tall fleets swim. That siiaded s(|uai-e and dusly street Are classic ground through him.
i->"
who
;
sing.
The echoes of iiis song Too late the tardy meed we bring. The i)raise delayed so long.
94
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Too late, alas! Of all who knew The living man, to-day
Before his unveiled face how few Make bare their locks of gray
!
Our lips of praise must soon be dumb, Our grateful eyes be dim
;
New hands the Avires of song may New voices challenge fame;
sweep,
But let no moss of years o'ercreep The lines of Hal leek's name. JOHN GREENLEAP WHITTIER.
Here dwelt the spirit haunted By a demoniac throng; Here sang the lips elated; Here grief and death were sated Here loved and here unmated
Was
Here wintry winds and cheerless The dying firelight blew. While he whose song was peerless
Dreamed
And from
embers chilling
PElx'SOXAL:
URIJAT WRITERS.
95
Crept shadows darkly filling The silent phu-e, and thrilling His fancy as they grew.
Here, ^^ itli hi-ow bared to heaven, In starry niglit he stood,
With
He
From visions of Apollo And of Astarte's bliss. He gazed into the hollow And hoi)eless vale of l)is, And though earth were surrounded By heaven, it still was mounded
With graves. His soul had sounded The dolorous abvss.
:
i'(.
Proud, mad, but not defiant. He touched at heaven and hel Fate found a rare soul jjliant
And wrung
hei-
clmnges well.
fire,
earth's most
happy
choir,
Or Hashed with
Israfel.
No
singer of
dM
story
hiys,
Luting accustomed
9G
DESCRIPriVE POEMS.
He
struck high chords and splendid, Wherein Avere fiercely blended Tones that unfinished ended With his unfinished days.
Here through
Made
And fate that then denied him, And envy that decried him, And malice that belied him,
Have cenotaphed
liis
fame.
der
The stormy sophist with his mouth of thunder. Clothed with loud words and mantled in the might Of darkness and magnificence of night; And one whose eye could smite the night in sunder.
Searching if light or no light were thereunder, xind found in love of loving-kindness light. Duty Divine and Thought with eyes of fire
Still
97
While over Massachusetts' pines Uprose a white and steadfasi star; And many a night it hung unwatched,^ It shone so still, it seemed so far.
But Light
is
Fire,
and Fire
is
Light;
these,
And mariners
arc glad
fu-
The torch that flares along the coast, The star that beams above the seas.
MONTGOMERY SCHUYLER.
EMERSON.
CONCORD.
"Farther horizons
cNcry year."
tossing juncs, which surge and wave Above the jxx't's jnst made grave. And waken Cor his sh'cping ear
The music
VJI
(li;il
li<'
loveil
\n hear,
98
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
With
Through sninmer's sun and winter's jnu-pose staunch and dauntless
chill,
will,
Sped by a noble discontent You climb toward the blue firmament: Climb as the winds climb, mounting high
of the sky;
Spurning our lower atmosphere. Heavy with sighs and dense with night, And urging upward, year by year, To ampler air, diviner light.
Farther horizons every year." Beneath you pass the tribes of men Your gracious boughs o'ershadow them. You hear but do not seem to heed
;
"
Your
Their. jarring speech, their faulty creed. roots are firmly set in soil
Won
from their humming paths of toil; Content their lives to watch and share, To serve them, shelter, and upbear; Yet but to win an upward way And larger gift of heaven than they, Benignant view and attitude.
Close knowledge of celestial sign Still working for all earthly good. While pressing on to the Divine.
;
" Farther horizons every year." So he, by reverent hands just laid
Beneath your layers of waving shade, Climbed as you climb the upward way, Knowing not boundary nor stay. His eyes surcharged with heavenly lights,
99
How
Or turn his winged feet again To share the common feasts of men? He blessed them with his word and smile
still above their fickle moods, Wooing, constraining him, the while Beckoned the shining altitudes.
But,
"
To what immeasurable
What What
far and all-trauscendent goal, Hast thou now risen, O steadfast soul
We may
To Nor guess what vision, vast and God kee])S in store for souls like
not follow with our eyes where the further pathway lies;
free,
thee.
Hul si ill llie sentry pines, which wave Their boughs above thy honored grave, Shall be thy emblems brave and fit. Firm rooted in the stalwart sod;
Blessing the earth, while spurning it. Content with nothing short of God. SARAH CIIAUXCEY WOOLSKY {Susan Coolidije).
100
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
LOWELL ON HIMSELF.
FROM
"
There
is
Lowell, wlio
striving
Parnassus
to
climb
With a whole
He
But he
hill
preaching;
of the
And
rattle
away
till
he
's
At the head
lem.
of a
march
to the last
WOUND
this bending, rough-cut mask, These lights and shades, this drama of the whole. This common curtain of the face, contained in me for me, in you for you, in each for each.
PERSOXAL:
HUE AT
WlilTERii.
lOL
(Tiagedies, soi-rows, lauiilitcr, tears O heaven! The passionate teeminji; i)lavs this curtain hidlj
This ghize of God's serenest, purest sky, This filni of Satan's seething pit,
This heart's geography's map, this limitless small continent, this soundless sea;
of this globe,
This subtler astronomic orb than sun or moon, than Jupiter, Venus, Mars, This condensation of the universe (nay. here the
only universe.
all in this
eyes,
future time,
space,
revolving,
To you
whoe'er you
look.
traveller of thoughts
war,
Of youth long
(As the
first
s[)ed and middling age declining volume of a tale perused and laid away, and this the second,
Songs, ventures, s])eculations, presently to close). opLingering a nioiiient here and now, lo you
1
posite
ttiiii.
As
on
tlie roa<l,
or at
or opened window.
my
gi-eet.
To draw and
bly with
once
iiise|>ara-
Then
WALT WIHTMAX.
102
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
MYSELF.
FROINI
"
And what
uivself, and sing myself, assume yon shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs
CELEBRATE
I
I loaf
1
my
soul,
my
summer
grass.
My
my
Born here
I,
of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health
till
death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance. but Retiring back awhile sufliced at what they are, never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at
every hazard,
WALT WIHTMAN.
103
HAWTHORNE.
Now England Song, That even in shinibei- trembled with the touch Of poets who like the foni- winds from thee
Harp
of
w aken
All harmonies that to thy strings belong,
much
Sav.
\\'\\{
^\'ilich
taken
Thee crowned one in their hold? There is a name Shoubl quicken thee No carol Hawthorne
I
sang, Yet his articulate spirit, like thine own. Made answer, quick as flame, To each breath of the shore from which he sprang.
And
Saw
Her
111
rough
sjjirit,
New
England's
life
her
inmost
heart, and all the stays on which it leant, Hetuiiis not, since he laid the pencil by
\\'li()S('
iiiyslic
loucli
its
none
What
tliongii
work
unfinished lies?
Half-
bent
The rainbow's arch fades out in upper air; The shilling catarart Iiaif-way down the height
r.rcaks into mist
;
fell
The ear
I'nds incomplete, but tlii-ough the starry night still waits for what it did not tell.
LUMUND
CLAUE^'(:^!}
STKDMAJ^.
104
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
HAWTHORNE.
beautiful it was, that one bright day In the long week of rain Though all its splendor could not chase away
!
How
And
trance,
The faces
seemed strange; could hear, And yet the words they uttered seemed to change Their meaning to my ear.
of familiar friends
I
Their voices
For the one face I looked for was not The one low voice was mute
;
there,
filled
the air.
And
baffled
my
pursuit.
Now
I only see
Dimly my thought defines; a dream within a dream The hill-top hearsed with pines.
PEIi\^ONAL:
I
GREAT
WRITER.S.
105
pen
And
!
left
lift that wand of magic power, clew regain? The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower
nARRlKT
Sin; told the storv,
P.Ei:('Hi:ii
STOWE.
and
th(
it
foi"
this fearless
woman's
c]e;'.r
She
sjtoki' to
Iler message.
Freedom's
rcNeillc.
swept
From
And
Command and
froiii
its slieatli the sword of justice leapt. two peoples swelled a fiei'v wave, r>iit boiii came forth ti-ansligured from the llame. HIest he tlie hand that daicd be strong to save, Vnd bh'st Ix' she who in oni- weakness came Prophet and priestess! .\t one stroke she gave A race to freedom and lierself lo fame.
.\ioiiii(i
I'.vuL Lwvuic.Nci':
nrNP.Ai^
loo
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
TO HENRY
WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
1867.
Where limpid
Smooth as our Charles, when, fearing lest he wrong The new moon's mirrored skiff, he slides along, Full without noise, and whispers in his reeds.
of all the wMnds his name blown about the world, but to his friends
And Love steals shvly through the To murmur a God 1)less you! and
As
I muse backward up the checkered years. Wherein so much was given, so much was lost,
But hush this is not for profaner ears; Let them drink molten pearls nor dream the
cost.
Some suck up poison from a sorrow's core. As naught but nightshade grew uiou
;
earth's
ground Love turned all his to heart's-ease, and the more Fate trioil his bastions, she but forced a door. Leading to sweeter manhood and more sound.
o
w
O Z o
o
107
Even as a wind-waved fountain's swaying shade Seems of mixed race, a gray wraitli shot with
sun,
So tlirough his
translucent ra^-ed. disnatured so, betrayed heart of sunshine that would f;iin o'errun.
trial faith
if skill
Surely
in
And
If
charmed abyss,
our poor life be lengthened by a lay. He shall not go, although his presence may, And the next age in praise shall double
this.
Long days be his, and each as lusty-sweet As gracious natures hud his song to be; May Age steal on with softly cadenced feet Falling in music, as for him were meet Whose choicest verse is harsher-toned than lie. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
LONGFELLOW.
IX
MEMORIAM.
Not
I
to be tuneh'ss in old
age!"
Ah
note
;is
swcci
jiiid
clear
As
^VlM'n
ioh'ts
blow!
108
Blest
!
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
but more
si)ring's
blest,
whom
stii'
Whom
impulsive
Have taught no
feverish lure;
Whose Muse, benignant aud serene. Still keeps his autumn chaplet green
Because his verse
Lie calm, Lie calm,
is
pure!
Thv
By
AUSTIN DOBSON.
HOUSE.
Shall T sonnet-sing you about myself? Do I live in a house you would like to see?
Is
it
"
Unlock
my
Take notice:
this building
remains on view,
Its suites of reception ever}- one. Its private apartment and bedroom too;
"
For
:
No thanking
A
I
peep through my window, if folk prefer; But please you, no foot over threshold of
have mixed with a crowd and heard free talk In a foreign land where an earthquake chanced
lUO
The whole of the fi-ontage shaven sheer, The inside gaped exposed to day, Right and wrong and common and queer,
:
it
lay.
The owner?
Odd What a
lie
"
Oh, he had been crushed, no doubt! and chairs for a man of wealth parcel of musty old books about
tables
!
smoked,
if
no
wonder he
"
doubt
see
A
You
bi-aisier?
it is
the pagan,
goodman
he burncnl ])(n-fumes!
i)roved. what the neighbors guessed: His wife and himself had separate rooms."
Friends, the
'T
is tlie fall
:m earthquake came:
On
of its frontage permits you feast the inside ai-i-angcmciit you praise or blame.
sullice for evidence:
Outside should
And whoso
Deeper, must
utimc
No
"Hoity-toity!
^'our
lionse
////.s-
key
ShaJccftpcdrc
l>id
inilorhrd
Jiis
Shakespeare?
he!
Shakespeare
Koiuati' ia;o\\M.\(;.
I.
PERSONAL: MISCELLANEOUS.
ART CRITICISM.
First bring me Raffael, who alone liath seen In all her purity heaven's virgin queen, Alone hath felt true beauty; bring me then
And
His
I
Titian, ennobler of the noblest men next the sweet Correggio, nor chastise
;
little
eyes.
want not Rubens's pink puffy bloom, Nor Rembrandt's glimmer in a dusty room. With those, and Poussin's nymi)h-frequented
woods, His templed heights and long-drawn solitudes, I am content, vet fain would look abroad On one warm sunset of Ausonian Claude.
/
t.'
ANNE HATHAWAY.
TO THE IDOL OF
OF
JNIY
HBARl.
Would
With love's sweet notes to grace your song. To pierce the heart with thrilling lay, Listen to mine Anno llnthaway!
110
PERSiOXAL: .yf^CELLAXEOUS.
She
biitli
Ill
way
to siug so clear,
Plioebiis
To melt
make
way;
When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth Do soil and bite fair worth and truth, And merit to distress betray,
To soothe
the heart
Anne hath
way;
To
Tnin foulest night to fairest day. Thou know'st. f<>n<l heart, Anne hath a way; She Imtli a wav,
of
iiiv
;i
She
halli
The j(Mvels she. {ind the So sweei to look Anne luilli She hath a way,
foil
(hey.
a
way;
Iialh a
way.
were
it
to
my
fanty given
1
To
call
Ihem heaven;
112
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
For, though a mortal
made
of clay,
Angels must love Anne Hathaway; She hath a wav so to control, To rapture, the imprisoned soul,
And
sweetest heaven on earth display, That to be heaven Anne hath a way; She hath a way,
a wav.
ANONYMOUS.
from
"
iv.
Come
then,
my
friend!
my
And
To man's low
Teach me,
to steer
From grave
to gay,
spirit,
from
lively to severe;
Correct with
Intent to reason, or polite to please. O, while along the stream of time thy
name
Expanded
flies,
and gathers
all its
fame;
Say, shall my little bark attendant sail. Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
When
much
reason,
113
were thy
Thou wert my
Shall then this verse to future age pretend guide, philosopher, and friend!
I
From sounds
For
to things, from fancy to the heart: wit's false mirror held up Nature's light;
is,
is
right.
ALEXANDER POPE.
And owre
this grassy
And drap
among,
That weekly
O, pass not by; But, with a f rater-feeling strong, Here heave a sigh
!
there a man wiiosc judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer.
Is
life's
mad
career,
Here
Survey
VII
111
is
grave.
* Bashful.
Tamely submit.
114
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS..
The
j)oor inhabitaut
below
Was
And
quick to learn
keenly
felt
And
But thoughtless
And
Reader, attend, whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole,
Or darkly grubs
Know,
Is wisdom's root.
ROBERT BURNS.
CHOPIN.
I.
DREAM
Warm
soft uuflickering
sets
off
glow
the changeful
Of glancing gems, rich stuffs, the dazzling snow Of necks unkerchieft, and bare, clinging arms. Hark to the music Hov/ beneath the strain Of reckless revelry, vibrates and sobs One fundamental chord of constant pa,in. The ])ulse-beat of the poet's heart that throbs. So yearns, though all the dancing Avaves rejoice, The troubled sea's disconsolate, deep voice.
!
PER^OXAL: MLSCELLANEOUS.
II.
115
UMio
sliiill
Of Orpheus' niiraeles? This subtle strain Above our prose world's sordid loss and gain With the rhythmic waltz, Lilitly n[)lifts us. The l^ric prelude, the nocturnal song Of love and lanjiuor, varied visions rise, That melt and blend to our enchanted eyes. The Polish poet who sleeps silenced long. The seraih-souled musician, breathes again
Eternal elocjuence, immortal pain. Revived the exalted face we know so well,
The illuminated
We
A
Slowly consuming with its inward flame stir not, speak not, lest we break the spell.
III.
voice
fine
the sad spirit of the evening breeze, Throbliiii.n with Inunan passion, yet divine
As As
voice for
leaves.
voice for
him
hears
who
Of
lie
lirst
robin on the
first
A
Who.
Of
whom
nmst
Fa(<'
sMIl mispi"i/,c<|.
jn'rish
L<nging with
llicii'
tli<\v
Imk
Ik-
art
(wn
soul's
l''or .ill
llicsc
116
DEtiCRIPTlVE POEMS.
IV.
Then Nature shaped a poet's heart, a lyre From out whose chords the slightest breeze
that blows
Drew trembling
How
shall
throws
This precious, fragile treasure in the whirl Of seething passions he is scourged and
:
stung
Must
dive in storm-vext seas, if but one pearl Of art or beauty therefrom may be wrung.
:
No
pure-browed pensive nymph his Muse shall be An Amazon of thought with sovereign eyes, Whose kiss was poison, man-brained, worldlywise,
Inspired that
harmony. But with him is it well? The poet who must sound earth, heaven, and
elfin,
delicate
EMMA
LAZARUS.
Penikese,
Ringed about by sapphire seas. Fanned by breezes salt and cool, Stood the Master with his school. Over sails that not in vain
Wooed
the west-wind's steady strain, Line of coast that low and far
Stretched
its
undulating bar,
PERSONAL: MISCELLANEOUS.
Wiuji;s aslant
117
along the
i-ini
Of the waves thev stooped to skim, Rock and isle and glistening bay,
Fell the beautiful white day.
Said the Master to the youth We have come in search of truth, Trying with uncertain key
:
"
Door bv door
of mvsterv;
We
and Force of
force.
As
We
What What
Of the Unseen
By
Doubl and ei i(r, loss and failing. Of our weakness made aware, ()ii the Ihreshold of our task Le| us lighj and guidance ask.
Let us pause
in silent
itraver!''
Then
llie
And
a lillle space. lea\cs by soil airs slirred. Lapse of \\a\(' and rvy of bird,
liie
118
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Left the solemn liiisli unbroken Of that wordless prayer unspoken, While its wish, on earth unsaid,
Rose
As By
His low voice within us, thus The All-Father heareth us;
And
his holy ear we pain With our noisy words and Kot for him our violence,
vain.
Storming at the gates of sense; His the primal language, his The eternal silences! Even the careless heart was moved,
And
With a gesture reverent. To the Master well-beloved. As thin mists are glorified
By
All
Through
tender awe.
How
By
his face
was
still
Hopeful, trustful, full of cheer. And the love that casts out fear.
Who
the secret
may
declare
Of that brief, unuttered prayer? Did the shade before him come Of the inevitable doom, Of the end of earth so near,
And
Eternity's
new year?
PERSONAL: MIHCELLANEOUS.
Rests the
In the lap of sheltering seas isle of Peuikese;
:
119
But the lord of the domain Comes not to his own again Where the eyes that follow
fail,
On
Other
lips
within
its
life
bound
Read the world's old riddles well But wlien breezes light and bland IMow from Summer's blossomed land,
;
When the air is glad with wings, And the blithe song-sparrow sings,
]Maiiy
Shiill the living
]\Iany
He
alone could
speak.
x\nd one
name forevermore
kiss the shore,
By he waves that
I
Down
In
all
voices
(nrn.
And the wisest reverence learn From the Master's silent i)ray('r.
JOHN
(iltKKNLKAF W lllTTIKU.
120
DE.SCRIPTIVE POEMS.
KANE.
DIED FEBRUARY
16, 1857.
Aloft
n])on an old basaltic crag, Which, scalped by keen winds that defend the
Pole,
roll
Around the
Flutters alone.
And
underneath, upon the lifeless front Of that drear cliff, a simple name is traced; Fit type of him who, famishing and gaunt.
in his soul,
By want
Not many months ago we greeted him, Crowned with the icy honors of the North, Across the land his hard-won fame went forth, And Maine's deep woods were shaken limb by.
limb.
His own mild Keystone State, sedate and prim. Burst from decorous quiet, as he came. Hot Southern lips, with eloquence aflame, Sounded in triumph. Texas, wild and grim. Proffered its horny hand. The large-lunged West,
From
C/2
O
w
l-H
h u
PERi^OXAL:
Yelled
its
MISCELLANEOUS.
And from main
121
to
frank welcome.
main
Jubilant to the skv,
crv.
Honor to Kane
In vain.
in vain beneath his feet we flung The reddening roses! All in vain we poured The golden wine, and round the shining board
till
With the
Scarce the buds Avilted and the voice ceased light that si)arkled in his eyes, Bright as auroral fires in Southern skies.
Faded and faded! And the brave young heart That the relentless Arctic winds had robbed Of all its vital heat, in that long quest For the lost caj^tain, now within his breast More and more faintly throbbed. His was the victory; but as his grasp Closed on the laurel crown with eager clasp, Death launched a whistling dart; And ere tlie thunders of aj)plause were done His bright eyes closed forever on the sun! Too late, too late the splendid ]rize he won
Olymjiic rnrc of Science and of Art! Like lo some shattered berg thai, jiale and lone, J)rifts fioiii (he while Xorlh (( a Tropic zone.
III
llic
And
ill
Ihe l)urning
day
^^'as(es
Till
It dies
so he
And
122
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
needs no tears
will not
He
who
for
We
him who died so well; weep But we will gather round the hearth, and tell The story of his strife; Such homage suits him well,
pomp
and
or passing bell
What
tale of peri!
self-sacrifice!
ice,
Crunching the massive ships, as the white bear Crunches his prey. The insufficient share Of loathsome food The lethargy of famine; the despair
;
Urging to labor, nervelessly pursued; Toil done with skinny arms, and faces hued
Like pallid masks, while dolefully behind
Glimmered the fading embers of a mind! That awful hour, when through the i^rostrate band Delirium stalked, laying his burning hand
Upon
The whispers
At first, but deej^ening ever till they grew In+o black thoughts of murder, such the throng Of horrors bound the hero. High the song Should be that hymns the noble part he played!
Sinking himself, yet ministering aid To all around him. By a mighty will
Living defiant of the wants that kill. Because his death would seal his comrades' fate; Cheering with ceaseless and inventive skill
PERSONAL: MISCELLANEOUS.
123
Those polar waters, dark and desolate. Equal to every trial, every fate. He stands, until spring, tardy with relief, Unlocks the icy gate. And the pale prisoners thread the world once
more.
To
the steep
cliffs
Time was when he should gain his spurs of gold! From royal hands, who wooed the knightly
The
state; knell of old formalities
is
tolled.
And
now
self-conse-
No grander
In
all its
episode doth chivalry hold annals, back to Charlemagne, Than that lone vigil of unceasing pain.
Faithfully kept through hunger and through cold, By the good Christian knight, lOlisha Kane!
FITZ-JAMES O'CRIEN.
11.
EVE.
BOOK
IV.
PARADISE LOST^
Two
and
tall,
Godlike erect, with native honor clad In naked majesty, seemed lords of all
of their glorious Maker shone. Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, (Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,)
Whence
true authority in
men
though both
;
Not equal, as their sex not equal, seemed For contemplation he and valor formed For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
;
He
for God only, she for God in him: His fair large front and eve sublime declared Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad; She, as a veil, down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved
her tendrils; which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
iVs the vine cui-ls
134
NATURE AXD
And bv And
ART.
125
amorous
delay.
So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight Of ^lod or angel for they thought no ill So hand in hand they ])assed, the loyeliest pair, That eyer since in loye's endjraces met
;
:
:
the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade that on a green
Adam
Stood whis])ering
sat
fountain side
toil They Of their s\yeet gardening labor than sufficed To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More grateful, (o Iheir supper-fruits they fell,
Nectarine frails wliicli tlie compliant boughs Yielded theiu, si<lelong as Ihcy sat recline On the soft downy banks damasked with flowers:
The
Still
and
in the rind.
brimming stream;
Nor
gentle ]urpose, nor endearing smiles \\';iiil<'d, nor yoiitliful dalliance^ as beseems
couple, linked
iis
I'^iir
in
Imppy
nu]>tia,l
league,
Alone
All
(hey.
About
llie
be;ists
of
chase
In wocmI
oi'
\\
ildeiiiess, for(>st or
den;
liis
paw
handled (lie kid; beais, (igeis, ounces. |tar(k:. Oamholled before them; the unwieldy ele|)lian(,
120
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
all
his
might, and
lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly, Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine His braided train, and of his fatal guile
His
Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Couched, and now filled with pasture gazing sat, Or bedward ruminating; for the Sun, Declined, was hastening now with prone career To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale Of Heaven the stars that usher evening rose.
MILTON.
you LIKE
IT,"
ACT
IT.
SC. 7.
And
all
the
All the world 's a stage, men and women merely players:
and their entrances;
in his time plays
They have
their exits
many
parts.
His Acts being seven ages. At first the Infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining School-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
And
Sijihing like furnace, with a woful ballad M.ide to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a Soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard; Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice,
lined,.
NATURE AND
With
ej'es severe,
ART.
127
and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered Pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And
Last scene of
all,
That ends
Sans
Is second childishness,
SHAKESPEARE.
CLEOPATRA.
FROM
"
II.
SC. 2.
ExoBARRUs.
The
in, like
a bur-
nished throne, P.urned on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
'Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The watei', wlii<li lliry licat, to follow faster.
As amorous
It
of tlioir strokes.
all
description: she did lie In her pavilion ((l(>th-of-gold of tissue), see <)"erpic1ui-ing tli;d Vctnis. wlioro wo
beggared
e;iili
side her
like
smiling Cujiids,
seeuj
With
ilivers-colored fans,
128
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
the delicate cheeks which they did cool, they undid, did.
To glow
And what
Agrippa.
O, rare for
Antony
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her the eyes, And made their bends adornings: at the helm
i'
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands. That yarely frame the ofifice. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthroned in the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature. Agr. Rare Egyptian Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she rejjlied. It should be better he became her guest,
Which she
entreated.
Whom
ne'er the
word
No
"
woman
heard
speak,
Being barbered ten times o'er, goes to the feast; And, for his ordinary, pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. Agr. Royal wench!
Mecmonas.
terly.
Now
Antony must
leave
her
ut-
Eno. Never; he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her The
infinite variety: other women cloy appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
KATURE AXD
ART.
129
Where most she satisfies. For vilest thino;s Become tlieniselves in her; that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish.
SHAKESPEARE.
TO lANTHE, SLEEPING.
FROM
"
QUEEN MAB,"
I.
How
When, throned on
ocean's wave,
:
Ha til
Whose
reign
Which
\\'iii(
Must then that peerless form h)ve and admiration cannot view Without a beating heart, those azure veins
li
steal like
l()vel_\
That
outline,
iiotliiug
<!'
lliis
heavenly sight
loadisoiiieiiess
a
and ruin?
gloomy (heme,
miglil
m(rali/.e?
wliieli
(
)i-
is
YIi
only
sweet slumber
130
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Stealing o'er sensation, the breath of roseate morning
Which
And
bosom
joy,
Wliose sleepless spirit waits to catch Light, life, and rapture from her smile?
Yes! she will wake again, Although her glowing limbs are motionless,
And
Once breathing eloquence That might have soothed a tiger's rage, Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror.
And on
eyes are closed, their lids, wiiose texture fine Scarce hides the dark blue orbs beneath,
Her dewy
The baby Sleep is pillowed: Her golden tresses shade The bosom's stainless pride.
Curling like tendrils of the parasite Around a marble column.
eyelids quietly unclosed; Moveless awhile the dark blue orbs remained. She looked around in wonder, and beheld Henry, who kneeled in silence by her couch,
Her veiny
^Yatching her sleep with looks of speechless love. And the bright-beaming stars That through the casement shone. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
NATURE AND
ART.
131
FREEDOM
FROM "epiccene;
or,
SC.
IN DRESS.
I.
Still to be ueat,
still to
be drest,
As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed, Lady, it is to be presumed.
Though
All
is
not sweet,
not sound.
a face.
Give
me
a look, give
me
That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely (lowing, hair as free, Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Tlian
all
They
strike
mine
my
heart.
ben jonson.
COUSIN LUCRECE.
Here where
Still,
the curfew
Time
Cousin Lu<i('tia
Had
her abode.
132
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Good enough p]uglisli For a song's use. Side and roof shingled,
All of a piece,
On nothing
How
How
Out
On what
Highly connected?
Down
Of Gardiner's
Of the third
lord.
Vain
Mouth
all agrin,
NATURE A\D
ART.
133
With
a colonial
Nephew and
niece,
Up
House
to the great
of her kinsman,
in state.
was
Driven
Wearing
Damask
<
"lit
vci-y
brocaded, low
;
Short sleeves
I'^if
;iiid
fiiigei-iiiitts
;
f(r
;i
show
xcHow
ciiils
13i
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Rattling
its
roundabout
String of
modi
pearls.
Over her noddle, Draggled and stark, Two ostrich feathersBrought from the ark. Shoes of frayed satin, All heel and toe.
On
My! how
Ran
,
last?
One Thanksgiving,
Bitterly cold,
\
(Ever so old), In her great chair she sank, There to find peace Died in her ancient dress
;
Poor old
lAicrece.
NATURE AXD
ART.
IS:
DELIGHT IN DISORDER.
SWEET disorder
iu the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness; A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction
;
An
erring lace, which here and there Inthralls the crimson stomacher;
ciilf
neglectful,
and thereby
Ribbons to How confusedly; A winning wave, deserving note, In the tempestuous petticoat; A careless shoestring, in whose tie
Do more
a wild civility; bewitch me than when art Is too precise iu every part.
I see
ROBERT IIERRICK.
THE TOILET.
FROM
''
I.
Each
Axi) now, unveiled, the toilet stands displayed, silver vase in mystic order laid.
nymph
intciii
adores,
llic
cosmetic ]owers.
A
To
heavenly
iiiuiuc in llic glass npjtcars. that slic bends, to tlint lier eyes slie i-ears;
iiilVi-ioi-
The
|)ries(ess,
;il
liei'
all;ir's side,
Treml)ling begins the s;iei-ed rites of pride. Fnnumbei-ed treasures ope al on<-e. ;md here
The various
olTeiiugs of
lie
world appear;
136
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
culls with curious toil,
Aud
decks the goddess with the glittering spoil. This casket India's glowing gems unlocks,
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. The tortoise here and elephant unite, Transformed to combs, the speckled and the
white.
Here
of pins extend their shining rows, PulTs, powders, patches, bibles, billets-doux.
files
Now
The
all its
arms
moment
rises in her
charms,
Eepairs her smiles, awakens every grace. And calls forth all the wonders of her face;
And
Sees by degrees a purer blush arise, keener lightnings quicken in her eyes.
The busy sylphs surround their darling care, These set the head, and those divide the hair, Some fold the sleeve, while others plait the gown;
And
Thou
foster-child of Silence
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy sha[)e
Of
In Temi)e or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens
loath?
NATURE AND
ART.
137
What mad pursuit? What struggles to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Xot to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone. Fair youth beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare.
l>old lover, never, never canst
Though
winning
:
near
the
goal,
yet
thou
kiss,
do
not
grieve
love,
I
and she be
fair!
happy, happy boughs that cannot shed leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu; And haj>i)y melodist, unwearied, Forever pii)ing songs forever new;
Your
More happy
love!
more
hapjiy,
happy
love!
Forever wann ainl still to be enjoyed. Forever panting and forever young;
All breathing human i)assion far above, Thai leaves a hearl high-sorrowful and cloved, A burning forehead, and a i)ar(Iiing tongue.
\\'\\<)
arc
llicsc
coming
to the saci-i(ice?
() niysicrious |(riest, Lead'st thou that heifer low ing at the skies. Ami all lici- silken llanics with gai-lands dresl
\\li;il
T<
green altar.
What
morn?
138
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
And,
little town, thy streets forevermore Will silent be, and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate can e'er return.
Attic shape!
Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed;
As doth
Thou, silent form dost tease us out of thought eternity. Cold Pastoral
!
!
When
Than
"
old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other
ours,
woe
a friend to man, to
whom
thou
say'st,
Beauty
is
that
is all
Ye know on
earth, and
all
ye need to know.
JOHN KEATS.
LAUS VENERIS.
A PICTURE BY BURNE- JONES.
Pallid with too much longing, Wliite with passion and prayer, Goddess of loye and beauty, She sits in the picture there,
Something more subtle still Than the old delights of loving Her measureless days to fill.
She has loved and been loved so often In her long, immortal years,
NATURE AND
That she
liics of the
ART.
13U
woru-out rai)ture,
No
jovs or sorrows move her, Done witli her ancient pride; For her head she found too heavy
aside.
Bright with her glory of hair, is not mortal, sad and fair, Eternally
not,
what? where,
nj)
what can
it
be
That strikes
I
so delicionsly?
never in
my
life
what? no!
That
IIa<l
It really
seemed as
aiiioiig
struck
collie
And
To
Hark
IJiil
finm
sdiiic iiiiiiiilciliis
Ircal
!
us willi
M scarcely ends
gives
il
I
strain,
it
("i'r
again.
140
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Toucbiug
and small, and all; Harmony, and shake, Now npou the treble lingering. Dancing now as if 't were fingering, And at last upon the close
out, smooth, clear
Coming with
serene repose.
Compound
To call Worlds
of lovely smallnesses.
fine
Smiles along that touch of thine. Now we call thee heavenly rain. For thy fresh continued strain; Now a hail that on the ground
Splits into light leaps Now the concert, neat
of sound;
and
nice,
Of a pygmy paradise; fountains; Sprinkles then from singing of mountains; on Fairies heard tops with art. Nightingales endued
Caught
in listening to IMozart;
Stars that
make a
distant tinkling.
While their happy eyes are twinkling; Sounds for scattered rills to flow to; Music for the flowers to blow to. LEIGH HUNT.
NATURE AND
ART.
141
Those joyous hours are passed away; a heart that then was gay Within the tomb now darkly dwells. And hears no more those evening bells.
And many
And
so
't
will be
when
am
gone,
And
THE
Hear
P.ELLS.
What
How
lica\cris
a
seem
to
twinkle
^^'itll
Keeping
142
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
the tintinuabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,
To
Trom
the jiugliug
bells.
Hear
Golden
bells!
What
harmony
fore-
How
From the molten-golden notes. And all in tune. What a liquid ditty floats
To the
turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon
!
O, from out the sounding cells. What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How How
On
it it
swells!
dwells
the Future!
how
it tells
Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells. Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells,
bells,
of the bells.
What
a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! Tn the startled ear of night How thev scream out their affright!
NATURE AXD
ART.
143
Too much horrified to speak, Thev can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune,
In the clamorous appealing to the mercy of the
fire,
In a
mad
And
Now now O
or never,
moon.
Of despair! thev clang and clash and roar! What a horror they outpour
How
On
the
bosom
fully
knows,
By
How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling. Iho wrangling, TTow the (langcr sinks and swells.
And
By
Ihc anger of
Of (hr bells,
Of
llie Im'IIs, bells, bells,
hells.
lU
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Hear the
tolling of the bells
monody
Iron bells!
What
compels
How we
From
And
Is a groan. the people ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who
In that
muMed monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone, Thev are neither man nor woman,
And And
A And
their king
it is
who
tolls;
he
Eolls,
With
And
bells,
:
NATURE AND
ART.
143
To the throbbing- of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, To the sobbing- of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time.
As he knells, knells, knells, In a hajjpy Runic rhyme. To the rolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, To the tolling of the bells. Of the bells, bells, bells, bellsBells, bells, bells,
To
the
of the bells.
often think on
On
Oiis
|)onder
I
^^'her(''('r
wniidor.
And
VII
10
14G
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
be] is of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant Avatei'S Of the river Lee.
With thy
I 've
Full
Tolling sublime in
Cathedral shrine,
While at a
glib rate
On
Of thy
the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters
Made
"
NATURE AND
ART.
147
Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
There 's a bell in Moscow; While on tower and kiosko
In Saint Soi)hia
The Turkman
gets,
And
Calls
loud in air
men
to })rayer,
From
Sucii
I
summit
empty phantom
More dear
to me,
Of the
river Lee.
(Father Front)
CITY
r.ICLLS.
Lorn
;in(l
clc.-if
From
Willi
soU'iiiii
swell,
148
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The deep-toned
bell
When
As
the young
whelps
Of the crv
From
No matter how small, the steeples both inside and outside the
Avail,
With
bell -metal
throat
Respond
to the note,
And
join the lament that a prelate so pious is Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese, Or, as Blois' Lord May'r
"
Is heard to declare, Should leave this here world for to go to that
there."
THE BIRTHDAY."
chief surpassing all a cuckoo clock! That crowning wonder! miracle of art! How have I stood entranced uncounted minutes, With held-in breath, and ej'es intently fixed
But
On
that small magic door, that when complete The expiring hour the irreversible Flew o])en with a startling suddenness
JSTA
TURE AND AR T.
;
149
In mantling flushes o'er my upturned face 1 Vnd as tlie bird, (that more than mortal fowl
perfect mimicry of natural tone, Xote after note exact Time's message told.
!)
With
How my
charmed
voice
ceased
door clapt
and
all
was
still.
AN ETRUSCAN
WuEKE,
Day
girt with orchai'd
hill-fortress
RING.
The whit
after
(Tiiidcd the
day an ancient goldsmith's skill copper graver, tempered hard some lost l^y secret, while he shapeil the sard to Slowly heauty, and his tiny drill, with corundum, ground its Avay niitil Edged
The gem lay perfect for the ring to guard. Then seeing tlie stone complete to his desire,
imagery ear\'en thus, An<l dark Egyptian symbols fabulous. He drew through it the delicate golden wiic. And bent the fastening; and the Kiniriaii sun
^Villl niyslic
Sank
liehind Tlva,
and
tlir
H.
What
l>ore
on
This the
tirst gilt
150
Those five-and-twenty centuries ago ? What shadowy dreams might liaunt it, lying low So long, while kings and armies, wave on wave, Above the rock-tomb's buried architraA^e Went million- footed trampling to and fro ?
Who
Still
though scarce
less old
than
Rome.
once again at rest from wandering Across the high Alps and the dreadful sea, In utmost England let it find a home. JOHN WILLIAM MACKAIL.
Now
LEONARDO'S "MONNA
Make
LISA."
thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair Of knowing thee be absolute I wait Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of fate Hides 'twixt the lips which smile and still for:
bear
?
!
!
Secret perfection Mystery too fair the sense no more, lest I should hate Tangle The delicate tyranny, the inviolate
Poise of thy folded hands, the fallen hair. Nay, nay, I wrong thee with rougli words
still
be
Serene, victorious, inaccessible Still smile but speak not lightest irony
;
Lurk ever
'neatli
still
Sjjhinx of Italy, 0'(n"top our knowledge Allure us and reject us at thy will!
EDWARD DOWDEN.
KA TURE AND AR T.
THE HURRICANE.
Lord
I
1 51
of the
winds
I feel tliue
nigh,
!
know thy breath in the burning sky And I wait, with a thrill in every vein,
Fo.r tlie coining of the
hurricane
of the
And
lo
on the wing
heavy
gales,
sails.
borne along, Like the dark eternity to come While the world below, dismayed and dumb, Through tlie calm of the thick hot atmosphere
;
Looks up
at its
gloomy
;
and the golden blaze fast quenched in the lurid haze, And he sends through the shade a funeral ray
They darken
is
Of the sun
A glare A l)eam
To
its
night nor day, that touches, with hues of death, Tiie cloud al)Ove and the earth beneath.
that
is neitlier
While the
U[)lifted
is
lieard
among Ww
inouiilains
r<iuii(l,
And
He is come! lie is couu; do ye noL behold His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
Oiniit of air
!
\v<^
bid tiicc
li;iil
lb)W
gray skirts toss in the whirling gale; huge and writhing arms arc bent To clasp the zone of tlie firmament.
Ills
How
his
1 52
And fold at length, in their dark embrace, From mountain to mountain the visible space
Darker,
still
darker
The dust
And
of the plains to the middle air ; hark to the crashing, long and loud,
!
Of the chariot of God in the thunder-cloud You may trace its path by the flashes that From the rapid wheels where'er they dart. As the fire-bolts leap to the world beloAV, And flood the skies with a lurid glow.
start
What
roar
is
that
't is
In torrents away from the airy lakes, Heavily poured on the shuddering ground, And shedding a nameless horror round.
Ah
well-known woods, and mountains, and skies, the very clouds ye are lost to my eyes. I seek ye vainly, and see in your place The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space,
!
With
fills
the wall
Of the
And
I,
cut off
NATUEE AND
MIST.
ART,
153
LOW-AXCIIORED cloud,
Xewfoimdlaud
air,
rivers,
And
Where bloom
Drifting
the daisied banks and violets whose fenny labyrinth The bittern booms and heron wades; Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers, Bear only perfumes and the scent Of healing- herbs to just men's fields. HENKY DAVID THOREAU.
And
in
THE COASTERS.
Overloaded
Phnjinrj
,
nndcrmanned,
ivith the land,
Trustiufj to a lee,
J-f<pij
()
Xorlli
and South!
We
shore.
!->>?.
154
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
strait,
on sound and
From port to port we stand The rocks of Race fade on our lee, hail the Rio Grande.
sea,
We
On
In
Our
They gleam,
summer
cape
the dip
And
We
Inshore
we
cheat
its flow.
We
The
From custom theft and pilot toll Thank God that we are free.
Legging on and
off
the 'beach,
Drifting up Fluking down the river reach, Towing through the gate That -s the tcay the Coaster goes, Flirting with the gale:
the strait.
Everywhere the tide flows, Ererywhere the wind hlotvs. From York to Beavertail.
to get a load,
Freighting aiujthing;
NATURE AND
Running
off ivith
i
ART.
155
spanker stowed,
r in g-a-w ing
Everywhere the tide ftoivs, Every irliere the wind blows. From Ray to Rio Grande.
We split
On
We
take our flight past man}- a light That guards the deadly ledge;
the foam,
Sound,
We
we
We
drift olT
Sandv Kev
The watcli of I'^Miwick sees our sail Scud for n(Tilo[)en's lee. With <1ccks awash and canvas torn
We
^^'e
And
friglil
tlic
ships of steam.
We
spill
our hones on
.Mexico to
lifly
sands
l'"'roiii
.M;iiiie.
15G
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Cargo reef in mam and fore^ Manned hy half a crew, Romping up the weather shore, Edging dotcn the Blue That 's the way the Coaster goes,
Everywhere the tide flows, Everywhere the wind Mows, From Cruz to Quoddy Head. THOMAS FLEMING DAY.
SMOKE.
LiGiiT-wiNOED Smoke!
Icarian bird.
Melting thj^ pinions in tli}' npward {light; Lark without song, and messenger of dawn Circling above the hamlets as thy nest;
Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts;
By
Darkening the
night star-veiling, and by day light and blotting out the sun;
Go thou, my incense, upward from this hearth, And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.
HENRY DAVID THOREAU.
O'er the
still
Tranquil
its spirit
Even
in its very
rest
MATURE AND
ART.
157
While evoi-y biealli of eve that chanced to blow Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought. of the departed soul To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given,
!
And by
Where
the breath of mercy made to roll Right onwards to the golden gates of heaven,
to the eye of faith it peaceful lies. tells to man his glorious destinies.
And
JOHX WILSON
{Christojjiter Xorth).
A STILL DAY
I
IN AUTUMN.
LOVE to wander through the woodlands hoary In the soft light of an autumnal day, When Summer gathers up her robes of glory,
And
like a
dream
of beauty glides
away.
lin-
now
Serenely smiling through the golden mist. Tinting the wild grape with her dewy fingers Till the cool emerald turns to amethyst;
Kindling the faint stars of the ha/-el, shining To light the gloom of Autuiiurs mouldering
hails.
Willi hoary plumes tiie clfiualis entwining Where o'er the r(ck liei- witlieriMJ gai-l!in<l falls.
Warm
Till
r.enealli soft
lights are on the sleej^y niilands waning cloiuis along the horizon rolleil,
the
slant
sunbeams through
their
fringes
i-aiiiing
Uathe
all
158
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
of crisped leaves
and
In the
AA'^ith
damp
Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow. Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground,
With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow The gentian nods, in dewy slumbers, bound.
Upon
Like a fond lover loath to say farewell, Or with shut wings, through silken folds intruding,
tell.
The
little birds upon the hillside lonely Flit noiselessly along from spray to spray. Silent as a sweet wandering thought that only
Shows
its
THE SUNSET
There
's
CITY.
in
a city that
lies
the
Kingdom
of
Clouds, In the glorious country on high, Which an azure and silvery curtain enshrouds, To screen it from mortal eye;
NATURE AND
ART.
159
Like jewels more splendid liiaii earth may behold, Or are dreamed of bj you aud by me.
And about it are highlands of amber that reach Far away till they melt in the gloom; And waters that hem aj 'mmaculate beach
With
fringes of luminous foam.
And
lighthouses
lit
That sparkle on
violet capes;
And
away
Enchantedly
Rainbow pavilions
And banners
AN'lien
the
Summer
Are aglow in the western sky. The pilgrim discovers the domes and spires Of this wonderful city on high;
enrai)t as the gathering shade over the twilight lea. Creeps Sees palace and jtinnacle totter and fade.
Ami gazing
And
Till the
sink
in
1lie
sap[)hire sea*,
slow decrees it wore; TIio silvery cui-tain is drawn, and he sees The beatitiful city no more!
\
ision loses bv
The magical
si>lcn(lor
iiBNRY
svr.vi:.sTi:i{
coijnwicll.
III.
PLACES.
"
THE NILE.
old,
It
flows
through
its
sands,
dream
And
Keeping along
Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd bands That roamed through the young world, the
glory extreme
Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam. The laughing queen that caught the world's great
hands.
Then comes a mightier silence, stern and strong, As of a world left em])ty of its throng, And the void weighs on us; and then we wake, 3 ad hear the fruitful stream lapsing along Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake. LEIGH HUNT.
160
PLACES.
161
OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT.
I MET a traveller from an antique land ^Yho said Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
:
^Yhich
yet
survive,
stamped on
those
lifeless
tilings,
And
on the pedestal these words appear '' My name is Ozvmaudias, king of kings: Look on ni.v works, ye Mighty, and des])air! "
:
Nothing beside remains. Kound the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
rriKIST-MAS IN INDIA.
Di.M diiwn behind the
fron-yellow
women
in
Ills
fell(\\'
is
saf-
As
the
tlie
And
lie village grind the corn. the river-side, each calling seek paiiots
I
to
tlie
staring Eastern
(lie
Day
I
is
born.
liigliwayl
byway
the V11--11
Oh
clammy
162
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
And
at
Home
part
they
're
What
in
their
mirth?
Full day behind the tamarisks
and staring
.
the
sky
is
blue
As
And
To
the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke, they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past the
hope or caring, ghat belotv the curling wreaths of smoke. Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a
all
brother lowlj'
Call on
Rama he may
voice
psalters
we
re-
And
to-day
"
!
we
men
joice
the
sun
is
hot
As Home
They
tell
the Christmas
will drink
us
how they
And forget us till another year be gone! Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh!
Heimweh,
ceaseless, aching
the
Oh
Youth
the black dividing Sea and alien Plain! Avas cheaj) wherefore we sold it.
we ho])ed
to hold
it.
And
to-day
we know
gain.
PL AC EH.
Gray dusk behind
103
together
tlie
liis
tlie
tamarisks
tlie
parrots
fly
As
sun
hist
And
lifelong tether
That drags us back howe'er so far we roam. Hard her service, poor her jtayment she in ancient, tattered raiment India, she the grim t^tepmother of our
kind.
If n
year of
shrine
is
life
be lent her,
if
her temple's
we
enter.
The door
shut
Black night behind the tamarisks the owls begin their chorus As the conches from the temple scream and
bray.
\\'itli
fruitless years behind us, and the hopeyears before us. Let us lionjr, oh my l)ro(hers, Christmas l>ay!
tlic
less
let
us feast
And
For
if
''
be nuM-ry as the custom of our caste; faint and forcenl the laughter,"
if
and
^^'e
sadness follow
richer
l)y
aflci-,
ai-c
past.
UUDYAUD KIPLING.
Hii
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
THE ORIENT.
FROM
"
Know
Are embleais
ye the land where the cypress and myrtle of deeds that are doue in their
Where
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to Know ye the land of the cedar and vine.
Where
crime?
perfume,
Wax
faint o'er the gardens of Giil in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute
;
Where
In color though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye;
Where
And
'T
is
all,
the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, save the spirit of man, is divine?
't
Sun,
is
Can he
done ?
O, wild as the accents of lover's farewell Are the hearts which thev bear and the tales
which they
tell!
LORD BYRON.
PLACED.
1G5
HAREM."
Who
lias
\Vitli
its
not lioard of the \^ilo of ('aslunere, I'oses the brightest that earth ever
gave,
Its temples,
As
and grottoes, and fountains as clear the love-lighted eyes that hang over their
wave?
O, to see
it
at snnset,
when
warm
Its splendor at parting a sniiimer eve throws. Like a bi-ide, full of blushes, when lingering to
take
last
look of her
!
goes
When
And
each hallows
()\\
hour by some
rites of its
n.
Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells. Here the ilagian his urn full of juM-fume is
swinging.
is
i-inging.
il
by moonlight,
wlien
When
And
of
stars.
the
nightingale's,
hymn from
the
Isle
of
Chcnars
lOG
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
From
Or
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet the cool shining walks where the young
people meet. when the magic of daylight awakes new wonder each minute as slowly it breaks,
at morn,
Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one Out of darkness, as they were just born of the
sun;
When
When
And
is
as
warm
day, with its banner of radiance unfurled. Shines in through the mountainous portal that
0})es,
THOMAS
ilOORE.
CARILLON.
In the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city.
As
Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet's rhymes,Rang From
the beautiful wild chimes
PLACES.
Then, with deep sonorous clangor Calmly aus\verin.i>- their sweet anger,
the wrangling bells had ended, Slowly struck the clock eleven, And, from out the silent heaven, Silence on the town descended.
Silence, silence everywhere,
1G7
When
the earth and in the air, Save that footsteps here and there Of some burgher home returning, By the street lamps faintly burning.
On
Still
As they loud proclaimed the flight And stolen marches of the night;
Till their
chimes in sweet collision Mingled with each wandering vision, Mingled with the fortune-telling
seemed
aslcc]) in
I'"'lcmisli
Bruges,
city..
(pmiiit old
tliougiii
And
chimes
Ai-c the i)oet's airy rhymes. All his ihymes and roundelays.
Ills coiiccils.
I'"'rom
vain,
1G8
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
On
the roofs and stones of cities! For by night the drowsy ear Under its curtains cannot hear,
go their ways,
Hearing the music as they pass. But deeuiing it no more, alas! Than the hollow sound of brass.
Yet perchance a sleepless wight, Lodging at some humble inn In the narrow lanes of life, When the dusk and hush of night Shut out the incessant din Of daylight and its toil and strife. May listen with a calm delight
To the
Till
poet's melodies,
he hears, or dreams he hears. Intermingled with the song, Thoughts that he has cherished long; Hears amid the chime and singing
The
bells of his
own
I, as by night I lay In Bruges, at the Fleur-de-BIe, Listening with a wild delight To the chimes that, through the night, Kang their cliang(^s from the Belfry Of that quaint old Flemish city.
,
PLACES.
169
THE RHINE.
TO HIS SISTER.
" CHILDE HAROLD,"
CANTO
III.
The
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the
vine,
And hills all rich with blossomed trees. And fields which promise corn and wine, And scattered cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine,
Have sti-ewed a scene, which I should With double joy, wert thou with ine.
see
And peasant-girls, with deep-blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise;
Above, the frequent feudal lowers
Through given leaves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steejtly 1()\v(m-s,
And
15mI
o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; one (hing want these l)anks of Rhine, Thy gciillc li;iii(! to clasp in mine!
Look
send
(III'
lilies giveji
to u\i\
tliy
long before
(liey
iiins(
liered he,
;
170
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
I have clierislied them as dear, Because they yet may meet thine eye, And guide thy soul to mine e'en here, When thou behold'st them drooping nigh. And know'st them gathered by the Rhine, And offered from my heart to thine!
For
The river noblv foams and flows. The charm of this enchanted ground,
And
The
all its
Some
fresher beauty varying round haughtiest breast its wish might bound
life
Through
How
Come down
My
little
To tell him in rhyme. Anon at the word, There first came one daughter, And then come another, To second and third
liOliKR'l'
SOUTHEY
PLACEH.
The request
of their brother,
171
And
how the water Comes down at Lodore, With its rush and its roar, As many a time
to hear
They had seen it before. So I told them in rliyme, For of rhymes I had store; And 't was in my vocation For their recreation That so T should sing; Because I was Laureate To them and the King.
From
its
and its gills; moss and through brake, Through It runs and it creeps For a while, till it sleeps
In
its
own
little lake.
And
It
thence at departing,
starting,
Awakening and
And awny
it
y)roceeds,
172
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Here
it
comes sparkling,
it lies
And
there
darkling;
Now
rapid race
it is
On which
Of
The cataract strong Then plunges along, Striking and raging As if a war waging Its caverns and rocks among; Rising and leaping, Sinking and creeping, Swelling and sweeping. Showering and springing, Flying and flinging. Writhing and ringing, Eddying and whisking. Spouting and frisking. Turning and twisting, Around and around With endless rebound Smiting and fighting,
:
sound.
PLACES.
And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And And
darting and parting,
173
and
hissing.
skii)i)iug,
dripping and
hitting
and spitting, sliining and twining. rattling and battling, shaking and <]uaking, pouring and roaring, waving and raving, tossing and crossing. flowing and going. running and stunning.
foaming
;ind
roaming,
dinning and spinning. droi)j)ing and ho])ping, working and jerking. guggling and struggling, heaving and cleaving, moaning and groaning;
And glittering and frittering. And gathering and fcathci-ing. And whitening and brightening. And <piive)-ing and shivering, And hurrxing ;ind skurr.ving. And thundering and lloundering;
Dividing and gliding and sliding. And falling and Innw ling mihI sprawling,
And di-iving iind riving and sli-iving. And sprinkling :nid twiid<ling and wiid<ling. And sounding and bounding and i-onnding.
174
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
And bubbling and troubling and doubling, And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, And clattering and battering and shattering;
Ketreating and beating and meeting and sheeting. Delaying and straying and playing and spra3ing, Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Kecoiling, turmoiling
and
toiling
and
boiling,
And
And And
flapping
slapping,
flashing
clashing; And so never ending, but always descending. Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blend-
ing All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, And this way the water conies down at Lodore.
ROBERT SOUTIIEY.
am
old.
plant my foot of stone Ui)on the Arno, as Saint Michael's own Was planted on the dragon. Fold by fold
PL A CES.
Beneath
175
me
as
it
struggies, I Ix'hold
Twice hath it ove^th^o^Tn kindred and companions. Me alone It moveth not, but is by me controlled. I can remember when the Medici
Its glistening scales.
My
Were
The
longer
still
ago
Florence adorns
me
And when
Michael Angelo Ilath leaned on me, I glory in myself. HENRY WADSWORTH LOXGFELLOW,
I think that
SOSPIRI DI ROMA."
Here where
Where
the sunlight
Reareth
glory
;
Of gorgeous blossom
Front the soml)re green of the ilexes TTcre where tlie heat lies
Pale blue
Where
On tlie Where
fronds of
17G
J)ES CHIP TI VE
and cypress,
P OEMS.
Of
fir
Of
Gulistfin,
Where
And where
the Scirocco,
Faint in the hollows, Foldeth his soft white Avings in the sunlight.
And
Deep
lieth sleeping
in the heart of
:
Moveth in silence, and dreamlike, and slowly, White as a snow-drift in mountain valleys
When
White
softly
as the
upon it the gold light lingers foam o' the sea that is driven
O'er billows of azure agleam with sun-.yello^v Cream-white and soft as the breasts of a girl
as
moment.
Dim
spreadeth, Foldeth and spreadeth abroad in the sunlight, Dim on the cream- white are blue adumbrations,
tliat lie
FLA CES.
177
Shadows so pale in their delicate blueness That visions they seem as of vanishing- violets, The fragrant white violets veined with aznre, Pale, pale as the breath of blue smoke in far woodlands.
Here, as the breath, as the soul of this beauty "White as the cloud through the heats of the noontide
TO
PaXAIE
RL'IXS.
BURIED IX ITS
Stranger,
In vain
;
't is
vain
midst
Rome
Rome
thy foot
is
on her throne
her grave
O'er
tin;
brave,
iNIark
but
tiic
AVorsliipiM'd the
tifle
lier
throne
And now,
()
as round her sepuleliic, eomplaius. IJouic! tlie steadfast grandeur of thy pride
is
Med
fleet
iif
WIKKEN.
178
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
THE COLISEUM.
FROM
" CHILDE HAROLD,"
CANTO
IV.
Arches on arches!
as
it
Collecting the chief trophies of her line, Would build up all her triumphs in one dome, Her Coliseum stands; the moonbeams shine
As
were its natural torches, for divine Should be the light which streams here, to
't
still
exhaustless,
mine
Of contemplation; and the azure gloom Of an Italian night, where the deep skies assume
to ye of
And shadows
forth
its glory.
There
is
given
bent,
of earth,
and where he hath leant His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power And magic in the ruined battlement, For which the palace of the present hour Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its
spirit's feeling,
dower.
.
.
And here the buzz of eager nations ran, In murmured pity, or loud-roared applause, As man was slaughtered by his fellow-man. And
wherefore slaughtered? wherefore, but cause
be-
PLACES.
Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws,
179
And the imperial pleasure. Wherefore not? What matters where we fall to till the maws
Of worms, on battle-plains or listed spot? Both are but theatres where the chief actors
I
rot.
see before
me
He
leans
upon
his hand,
('onsents to death, but conquers agony, And his droo])ed head sinks gradually low.
And
through slow
his side
From
Like the
the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, first of a thunder-shower; and now
The arena swims around him, he is gone. Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the
wretch who won.
He
heard it, but he heeded not, his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize;
lUit whore his i-ude iiut by the Danube lay, There were his young bar])arians all at play. There was their Dacian mother, he, their sire,
I'utchered to
All
tills
make a
rushed with
ex-
pire,
And unavenged?
ire!
Arise, ye Goths,
lUit here,
slcam.
And
here,
ways,
ISO
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
roared stream
or
And
murmured
like
a mountain
Dasliing or winding as its torrent strays; Here, where the Roman millions' blame
praise
or
or
life,
sounds much,
where
my
steps
seem
echoes
strangely loud.
ruin,
from
its
mass
Walls, palaces, half-cities, Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass. And marvel where the spoil could have appeared. it indeed been plundered, or but cleared? Alas developed, opens the decay,
Hath
When
It will
is
neared
Which
not bear the brightness of the day, streams too much on all years, man, have
reft
away.
rising
moon begins
to climb
When
the stars twinkle through the loops of time, And the low night-breeze waves along the air
PLACES.
181
Then in tliis magic circle raise the dead; Heroes have trod this spot, 't is on their dnst ve dead.
"
Rome shall stand; Kome shall fall; And when Kome falls the World." From our
AVhile stands
tlie
Coliseum,
^"\'hen falls
the Coliseum,
own land
Thus sitake the pilorims o'er this mighty wail In Saxon times, which we are wont to call Ancient; and these three mortal things are still On their foundations, and unaltered all KdHie and her Kuin past Redemption's skill. The A\'(>r](], the same wide den of thieves, or what ye will.
;
LORD
LtYItOX.
THE PAXTIIEOX.
FUOM
"CIIII.DK lIAKor.n,"
TAXTO
IV.
SiAm.K, erect, severe, austere, sublime, Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods.
From Jove
Looking
to Jesus,
time;
traufiuillity,
nods
Arch, empire, each thing round thee, and iiiiiii plods Ilis way through thorns to ashes, glorious
dome
i-ods
Of
art
upon thee, sanctuary and home and piety, Paiillien [(ride of Ronu'
182
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Relic of nobler days and noblest arts
!
circle spreads
A holiness
To
Her
appealing to
all hearts.
'
art a model; and to him who treads Rome for the sake of ages, Glory sheds
Who
light through thy sole aperture to those worship, here are altars for their beads ;
;
And they who feel for genius may repose Their eyes on honored forms, whose busts around
them
close.
LORD BYRON.
A DAY
Though
And
My
And I see a quaint old city, Weary and worn and brown, Where the spring and the birds are so early, And the sun in such light goes down.
I
Where And
Out
mouldering city, Mouldering, old, and gray, We sped, with a lightsome heart-thrill,
of the
PLACES.
For a revel of fresh spring verdure, For a race mid springing fiowers, For a vision of plasliing fountains, Of birds and blossoming bowers.
There were
violet
183
And
Blue and orange and purple, Itosy and yellow and white. Rising in rainbow l)ubbles, Streaking the lawns with light.
The
Of a joyful revel up
And now
for the
all
many. day
;
of strange weird sculpture, Witli lichens and moss o'ergrown, Are they marble greening in moss- wreaths.
Or moss-wreaths whitening
to stone?
Down many
a wild,
dim patliway
till
evening comes
all
too soon.
play.
184
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
We
look on the
dreamy Campagna,
clay,
And the smoke of eacli distant cottage, And the flash of each villa white,
Shines out with an opal glimmer, Like gems in a casket of light.
And
the
dome
With
That
city beheld
Whose
And, dropping
all solemn and slowly, the softening spell. There falls on the dying twilight
To hallow
bell.
And
To
the words that of old the angel the mother of Jesus L'l'ouglit
Rise like a
PLACEl^.
185
With the smoke of the evening incense Our thoughts are ascending then To Mary, the niotlier of Jesus, To Jesus, tlie ]\Iaster of men.
city of prophets
AVlion,
when
Once
When He who
Shall rule in those lordly halls, And shall stand and feed as a shepherd
The
flock
which
his
mercy calls,^
To
come hack
again.
And
Shall he
llAltKlKT lUCKCnKK
STOWE.
FEUKUAUV
Wmk.n
Kdiiian helds
in
IX IJO.ME.
cNclaiueii,
And
Under
the palace gardens you may find, great leaves and slu-ltering lirioiiy-bind,
(
Clusters of
leam-wiiite violets,
oli
then
men
tlic
Must
And through
her eoiiidms
slow
warm wind
180
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken. Such soft favonian airs upon a flute, Such shadowy censers burning live perfume, Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit, Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute, Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome. EDMUND GOSSE.
;
IV.
to harmonize,
immensities
Rich marbles, richer painting, slirines where flame The lamps of gold, and hauglity dome which vies In air with earth's chief structures, though their frame and this the cloud Sits on the firm-set ground,
must
claim.
Here condense thy soul objects, and control Thy thoughts until tliy mind hatli got by heart Its eloquent proportions, and unroll
To more immediate
The glory
In mighty graduations, part by part, whicli at once upon thee did not dart. LORD BYRON.
PLACES.
187
Over
the
dumb
Out
Like a mighty ship in pain, Facing the tempest with struggle and strain.
]\I()tionless
The
That mountain-range upon either hand, Eaten away from its outline grand.
the
the
dumb campagna-sea
ship of the
Church heaves on to
wreck,
Alone and
silent as
God must be
!
Peter, Peter, if such be thy name. Now leave the ship for another to steer,
And proving thy faith evermore the same Come forth, tread (Alt through the dark and
drear.
Since
He who walks on
!
the sea
is
here
Peter, Veter
lie
He
is
not as rash as
in old Galilee.
Safer a ship, tbougli it toss and leak. Then a reeling foot on a rolling sea
Andhe'sgotto
Ijc
round
in the girth,
thinks he.
188
DEfiCRlPTlVE POEMS.
!
lie does not stir, Peter, Peter His nets are heavy with silver fish He reckons his gains, and is keen to infer,
:
"The
wish,
broil
on the shore,
if
the
Lord should
Fisher of fish wouldst thou live instead, Haggling for pence with the other Ten,
Cheating the market at so nuich a head. Griping the hag of the traitor dead?
At the triple crow of the Gallic cock Thou weep'st not, thou, though
dazed
:
thine
eyes be
What
l)ird
comes next
!
Vultures
in the
tempest shock?
To inaugurate Rome
VENICE.
Venice, thou Siren of sea cities, wrought By mirage, built on water, stair o'er stair. Of sunbeams and cloud shadows, phantom-fair, With naught of earth to mar thy sea-born thought Thou floating film upon the wonder-fraught Thou hast no dream so rare Ocean of dreams and sons As are thy daughters, they who wear
!
Foam
flakes
of
enchantment
!
'caught.
dark
bro\\
eyes
PLACES.
189
heaven-blue eyes, blonde tresses where the breeze Plays over sunburned clieelcs in sea-blown air!
Firm limbs of moulded bronze frank debonair Smiles of deep-bosomed women Loves that seize jMan's soul, and waft her on storm melodies
! !
!
VEXICE.
FROM
" rrALV."
tlie
and the
Clings to the marble of her palaces. No tra(;k of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates. The patli lies u'er tliu Sea,
Invisible
;
and from
tlie
land
we
went.
As
So
by many a dome
;
dream,
IMosque-likc, ;iiid many a stately jjortico, The statues ranged along an azuic sky
I?y
many
(jld
Of
llic,
in
The
Still
llieiii,
glowing will) (he richest hues of art. As though (lie wealth within them had run
o'er.
.
A few
froin liim
ill
feai-.
whose boast it was Flying away That the grass grew not where his horse had
(I'od,
190
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
to Venice.
built their nests
Like the waterfowl, They among the ocean waves And wliere the sands were shifting, as the wind Blew from the northjjhe south where they that
;
Gave birth
came
sure the ground they stood upon, an exhalation, from the deep, A vast Metropolis, with glittering spires, With theatres, basilicas adorned A scene of light and glory, a dominion. That has endured the longest among men.
to
Had
make
Rose, like
And whence
Towering?
'T
the talisman by which she rose was found there in the barren sea.
;
Want
Who
led to Enterprise
Ere yet the Califa came, listening to hear Its bells approaching from the Red Sea coast Now on the Euxine, on the Sea of Azoph, In converse with the Persian, with the Russ, The Tartar on his lowly deck receiving Pearls from the gulf of Ormus, gems from Bagdad, Eyes brighter yet, that shed the light of love From Georgia, from Circassia.
;
;
From
from the region of the Sun, Fragrant with spices, that a way was found, A channel opened, and the golden streamIndia,
Turned
to enrich another.
Then she
felt
Iler strength departing, and at last she fell. Fell in an instant, blotted out and razed
;
PLACES.
191
She who had stood yet longer than the longest Of the Four Kingdoms, who, as in an Ark, Had floated do^v-n amid a tliousand wrecks, Uninjured, from the Old World to tlie New. SAMUEL KOGEKS.
THE GONDOLA.
Afloat
;
we move delicious
like the
Ah,
What
else is
gondola
How
light
it
Ah,
!
Were
gondola
!
How light
it moves, how softly Ah, Could life, as docs our gondola, TJnvexed with quarrels, aims, and cares. And moral duties and affairs, Unswaying, noiseless, swift, and strong.
For ever
(
thu.s
How
light Ave
life
Ah,
Were
With
no more effort than expressed The need and naturalness of rest, Whicli wc beneath a gratcfid shade Should lake on peaceful pillows laid
^Vil!l
(
How
light
life
wo move, how
softly
!
All,
Were
but as the
gf)ndf)!a
192
DE^CRlPTlVFj POEMS.
In one inibroken passage borne To closing night from opening morn, Uplift at whiles slow eyes to mark Some palace-front, some passing bark
!
And hear the soft turns of the oar ..Vh, (How light we move, how softly Were life but as the gondola ) ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
!
!
VENICE.
FROM
" VIEW
is
All EouDd
Beneath
Underneath day's
a/.ure eyes,
Which her hoary sire now paves With his blue and beaming waves.
Lo! the sun upsprings behind. Broad, red, radiant, half reclined
.
On
And
PLACES.
As
M-ithin a furnace bright.
like obelisks of fire,
193
To the sapphire-tinted skies; As the flames of sacrifice From the marble slirines did As to pierce the dome of gold Where Apollo si)oke of old.
!
rise,
Sun-girt city thou hast been Ocean's child, and then his queen; Kow is coiiie a darker (la.\'. And thou soon must be his ]>rey,
Hallow
From
thy tliione
on('<'
among
it
(lie
waves,
bcfoic
flew,
And
^^'i(ll
all
is in
its
ancient state,
a
ialace-gate
giccn overgrown Like a ro<k of occiin's own. Topples o'er llie abandoned sea
s('a-(U)W(M's
As
The
tlie
lilies
change sullenly.
lislier
on his wal<'ry
I
way
M'anderiug a Ihe close ctf day Will spread his sail and seize his oar
Vll
i;i
ID-l
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Till he pass tlie
gloomy shore,
Lest thy dead should, from their sleep Bursting o'er the starlight deep,
NAPLES.
FROM
This region,
surely,
^'
ITALY.^^
is
Was
not dropt from heaven? Not a grove, Citron or pine or cedar, not a grot
it
Sea-worn and mantled with the gadding vine. But breathes enchantment. Not a cliff but liings On the clear wave some image of delight, Some cabin-roof glowing with crimson flowers,
Some ruined temple or muse on as the bark And bo it mine to muse From daybreak, when
To.
fire
fallen
is
monument,
gliding by.
there,
the
his
Yet more and more, and from the mountain-top, Till then invisible, a smoke ascends. Solemn and slow, as erst from Ararat,
When he, the Patriarch, who escaped the Flood, Was with his household sacrificing there,,
Fi'om daybreak to that hour, the last and best. When, one by one, the fisliing-boats comC; forth, Each with its glimmering lantern at the prow. And, when the nets are thrown, the evening; hymn
PLACES.
Steals o'er the trembling waters.
195
Everywhere
Fable and Truth have shed, in rivalry. Each her peculiar influence. Fable came, And laughed and sung, arraying Truth in flowers, Like a young child her grandam. Fable came;
Earth, sea, and sky reflecting, as she flew, A thousand, thousand colors not their own:
And
To
at her bidding, lo! a dark descent Tartarus, and those thrice happy fields,
Those fiplds with ether pure and purple light Ever invested, scenes by him described
Who
What
here
was wont
to
Beloved I'arthenope.
Yet here, methinks. Truth wants no ornament, in her own shape Filling the mind by turns with awe and love,
By
And
SAMUEL
ROGERS.
DRIFTING.
My
soul to-day
Is far
away,
Swims round
tlic
piiiiih'
peaks remote:
39G
DE^SCRIFTIVE FOEMt^.
Blue iulets and their crystal creeks,
While, on Vesuvius' misty brim, With outstretched hands, The gray smoke stands
O'erlooking the volcanic lands.
Here
-Ischia smiles
isles,
heed not,
if
My
cliff
to
cliff
;-
With dreamful
eyes
My
spirit lies
of Paradise.
falls
intervals,
PLACES.
The
Is
(lay,
197
so mild,
keel.
The
airs I feel
nie steal
Around
Are murmuring
to the
murmuring
sail;
Glides
down my drowsy
indolence.
My
spirit lies
Where Summer
sings
and never
dies,
Among
her future
oil
and wines.
Her The
children, hid
clilfs
amid.
Are gambolling wi(h the gambolling kid; Or down (lie walls, Laugh on
The
Willi lipsy ("ills, the rocks like waterfalls.
fisher's child,
Willi
(resses wild.
beguiled,
Or gazos
198
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Yon deep bark goes Where Traffic blow s, From lands of sun to lands
This happier one, Its course is run
of
snows ;
From
O happy ship, To rise and dip. With the blue crj^stal at your O happy crew,
lip
My
Sails,
and
No
My
Under
spirit lies
In lofty
lines,
pines.
And
and
vines,
THOMAS BUCHANAN
READ.
PLACES.
199
ENGLAND.
FROM
"
THE TRAVELLER."
And
Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, flies where Britain courts the western
spring;
that scorn Arcadian pride,
brighter streams than famed Hvdaspes glide. There all around the gentlest breezes stray, There gentler music melts on every spray; Creation's mildest charms are there combined, Extremes are onlv in the master's mind.
And
Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her With daring aims irregularly great,
I'ride in their port, defiance in their eye,
state,
I see the lords of human kind pass by: Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, By forms unfashioned, fresh from nature's hand, Fierce in their native hardiness of soul.
True to imagined right above control, While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to
And
Thine are those charms that dnz/lo and endear! OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
100
DEkiCRlPTIVE POEMS.
THAT ENGLAND.
FROM
"
AURORA LEIGH."
Whoever
I
learned to love that England. Ver^- oft, Before the day was born, or otherwise
Through secret windings of the afternoons, I threw ni}' hunters off and plunged mj'self Among the deej) hills, as a hunted stag
Will take the waters, shivering with the fear
And }>assiou of the course. And when, at last Escaped, so many a green slope built on slope Betwixt me and the enenw's house behind,
I dai'ed to rest,
or wander, like a rest sweeter for the step u]>on the grass,
the ground's most gentle dimplement, God's finger touched but did not press In making England!) such an up and down
Of verdure,
nothing
too
much up
or down,
ripple of land; such little hills, the sky Can stoop to tenderly and the wheatfields climb; Such nooks of valleys, lined with orchises,
Fed
by invisible streams; where you scarcely tell White daisies from white dew, at intervals The mythic oaks and elm-trees standing out
full of noises
And
o})en jastures,
Self-poised
I
upon their
]>rodigy of shade,
thought
Of being
too
PLACES.
Tlie happy violets hiding The primroses run down
201
canning gold, Tlie tangled hedgerows, where- the cows push out Impatient horns and tolerant churning mouths
'Twixt dripping ash-boughs,
hedgerows
all alive
With birds and gnats and large white butterllies Which look as if the May-tlower had sought life
And
palpitated forth upon llie wind, Hills, vales, woods, netted in a silver mist. Farms, granges, doubled up among the hills,
And cattle grazing in the watered vales. And cottage-chimneys smoking from the woods, And cottage-gardens smelling everywhere,
''
Confused with smell of orchards. " See," I said, And seel is God not with us on the earth? And shall we put Mini down by aught we do? ^^'ho says there's nothing for the poor and vile Save jtoverty and wickedness? behold!"
ankle-deep in I"]nglish grass 1 leaped. clapped my hands, and called all very
KLiZAruriii r.ARRioTT
fair.
And And
c.uowmm;.
TIIIO
KXKJIIT.
I.
FROM
"
MAR.MIOX." ("AXTO
Day set on Norham's castled steep. And Tweed's fair rixci-, broad and deej),
And
rii('\i<l's
iiioMiilains lone:
The battled towers, (he donjon keej). The loophole grates where caplives weep, The l!a:d<ing walls llial romid it sweep.
In
\(*llow
lustre shone.
202
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The warriors ou the turrets
high,
Now
The evening gale had scarce the power To Avave it on the donjon tower. So heavily it hung. The scouts had parted on their search, The castle gates were barred; Above the gloomy portal arch,
Timing his footsteps to a march. The warder kept his guard
;
Low humming,
as he paced along,
song.
He
O'er Horncliff
clump
of spears,
Beneath a pennon gay; A horseman, darting from the crowd, Like lightning from a summer cloud, Sjmrs on his mettled courser proud Before the dark array. Beneath the sable palisade, That closed the castle barricade, His bugle-horn he blew; The warder hasted from the wall,
PLACES.
And warned
the captain in the hall,
203
And
To sewer,
"
and seneschal.
Xow
And quickly make the entrance free, And bid my heralds ready be, And every minstrel sound his glee, And all our trumpets blow;
And, from the platform, spare ye not
To
tire
a noble salvo-shot:
'
guard,
The
And
the drawbridge
fall.
rode.
Proudly his red-roan charger Irode, ITis helm hung at the saddle-bow; Well by his visage you inight know He was a stalworth knight, and keen, And had in many a battle been.
The scar on
bis biowii chec^k revealed token true of lioswoitli held; His eyebrow daik, and eye of lii-e, Rliowed spirit jroiid. and pi-omj)! to ire;
Vcl lines of Ihoiigbt upon his cheek Did deep design and counsel s])eak.
204
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
His forehead, bj his casque worn bare, His thick mustache, and curly hair, Coal-black, and grizzled here and there, But more through toil than age; His square-turned joints, and strength of limb, Showed him no carpet-knight so trim,
But
Well was he armed from head to heel. In mail and jjlate of Milan steel;
But
mighty
cost.
Was
Amid
A falcon
With wings outspread, and forward breast; E'en such a falcon, on his shield, Soared sable in an azure field
:
aright,
rhcch,'i at mc to rtrath x^ rti(\ht. Blue was tlie charger's broidered rein Blue ribbons decked his arching mane;
;
Was
The knightly housing's ample fold velvet blue, and trapped with
gold.
Behind him rode two gallant squires Of noble name and knightly sires; They burned the gilded spurs to claim; For well c(uld each a war-horse tame, Could draw the bow, the sword could sway,
And
Nor
away;
with courteous precepts stored, Could dance in hall, and carve at board,
PLACES.
And frame love-ditties passing And sing them to a lady fair.
rare,
2U5
Four men-at-arms came at their backs, With halbert, bill, and battle-axe;
The}' bore
And led his sumpter-mules along, And ambling palfrey, when at need Him listed ease his battle-steed.
The
last
On
Like swallow's
The towering falcon seemed to soar. Last, twenty yeomen, two and two. In hosen black, and jerkins blue, With falcons broidered on each breast.
Attended on their lord's behest Each, chosen for an archer good.
:
Knew
And
And
Each one
hunting-craft by lake or wood; a six-foot bow could bend, far a cloth-yard shaft could send;
SUi
200
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
O,
O,
which so often
0,
how
magnificent
kings,
they were!
They
to
They ruled their serfs right sternly; they took from Jews their gold, Above both law and equity were those great lords
of old
By
to tempt them they met by or wold, those right of sword they seized the prize, old of gallant knights
Could gaze on Joiist and tournament, and see their champion slam^
PLACES.
The}'
lived
207
0,
made them strong and bold, more like men than women were
dames
of old
!
ale,
vviiich
those gentle
dark and deep. many a baron held his court within the
castle hold;
And many
Of hope and
lot
might be;
O, wondrous patience must have had those troubadours of old ! O, those bh'ssT'd times of old, wiili Iheir chivalry
and state!
I love to
deeds relate;
I
liut,
Iloavcn be thanked!
blessed times of old!
lived no(
in
(liosc
FRANCKS nilOWNB.
208
DESCBIPTIVE POEMS.
MELROSE ABBEY.
FROM
"
II.
by
pale mooiiliglit
of lightsome day Gild, but to {lout, the ruins gray. Wlien the broken arches are black in night,
Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory
:
When
And
silver edges the imagery, the scrolls that teach thee to live
and
die;
When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's
Then go, but go alone the while, Then view Saint David's ruined pile;
grave,
Was
And, home returning, soothly swear. never seen so sad and fair!
The pillared arches were over their head. And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.
Spreading herbs and flowerets bright
dew of night; Nor herl) nor (lower glistened there, But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. The monk gazed long on the lovely moon, Then into tlie night he looked forth;
Glistened with the
PLACES.
And
Were dancing
red and bright the streamers light in the glowing north.
209
So had he seen, in fair Castile, The youth in glittering stjuadrons Sudden the li.ying jennet wheel.
start,
And hurl the unexpected dart. He knew, by the streamers that shot
That
spirits
so bright,
light.
By
They entered now the chancel tall; The darkened roof rose high aloof On pillars lofty and light and small; The keystone, that locked each ribbed
aisle,
Was
The
a lleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille:
corbel Is
And
With base and with capital nourished around, Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had
bound.
I-'ull
Shook
a scutcheon and banner, riven. to the cold night-wind of heaven. Around the screened altar's pale;
many
And
O
()
Thetiioon on Iheeasl
Vll
shone
14
210
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
By
foliaged tracery combiued
;
fairy's
hand
'Twixt poplars straight the osier Avand In many a freakish knot had twined; Then framed a spell, when the work was done,
And changed
The silver light, so pale and faint, Showed many a prophet, and many a saint, Whose image on the glass was dyed Full in the midst, his Cross of Red
;
And trampled
The moonbeam kissed the holy pane. And threw on the pavement a bloody stain. SIR WALTER SCOTT.
VI.
the
wind
is chill
whistle as
it will,
We
'11 keep our Christmas merry still. Each age has deemed the new-born year The fittest time for festal cheer: Even, heathen yet, the savage Dane At lol more deep the mead did drain;
And
Then
Where
shields
PLACES.
While round, in brutal jest, were thrown The half-gnawed rib and marrow-bone;
211
Or listened all, in grim delight. While scalds yelled out the joys of fight. Then forth in frenzy would they hie. While wildly loose their red locks fly; And, dancinj^ round the blazing pile,
Thoy make such barbarous mirth the while, best might to the mind recall The boisterous joys of Odin's hall.
As
And well our Christian sires of old Loved when the year its course had rolled And brought blithe Christmas back again
With
all his
hospitable train.
Domestic and religious rite Gave honor to the holy night: On Christmas eve the bells were rung; On Christmas eve the mass was sung; That only night, in all the year,
Saw
The damsel donned her kirtle sheen; The hall was dressed with holly green; Forth to the wood did merrv-men go. To gather in the mistletoe. Then opened wide the baron's hall To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And Ceremony
The heir, with roses in his shoes. That night might village partner choose; The lord, undeiogating, share The vulgar gniiie of " post nnd pair."
]
212
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
general voice, the Iiappy night to the cottage, as the crown,
And
That
Brought tidings of salvation down. The tire, with well-dried logs supplied,. Went roaring up the chimney wide; The huge hall-table's oaken face. Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace, Bore then upon its massive board No mark to part the squire and lord. Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
By
Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high Crested with bays and rosemary.
Well can the green-garbed ranger tell How, when, and where, the monster fell;
What dogs before his death he tore, And all the baiting of the boar.
The wassail round,
in good brown bowls, Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls. There the huge sirloin reeked; hard by
Plum-porridge stood, and Christmas pie; Nor failed old Scotland to produce. At such high tide, her savory goose. Then came the merry maskers in, And carols roared with blithesome din; If uumelodious was the song, It w^as a hearty note, and strong.
Who
And
lists
may
in their
mumming
;
see
White
But, O, what mas(]uers richly dight Can boast of bosoms half so light!
PLACE8.
]{;ii<;laii(l was merry Englaml, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'T was Christmas broached the mightiest 'T was Christmas told the merriest tale;
213
ale;
Cliristmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
SIR
WALTER
SCOTT.
vail,
We
strolled
To Meldon, gret an' small; Out where the Castle wall stood high A-mwoldreu to the zAinny sk^'.
An' there wi' Jenny took a stroll Iler youngest sister, Poll, so ga}% liezide .John Mind, ah! merry soul, An' mid her wedlock fay; An' at our zides did play an' run Mv little maid an" smaller son.
Above the beaten mwold u])sprung The driven doust, a-spreadcn light,
An' on
(lie
Wer
On
An' corn,
bow,
sluprMi .Mcldon's
vmuux brow.
glow
There,
down
(lie
the grassy
loor.
214
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
An' weaklj-wandren winds did blow, Unhindered by a door; An' smokeless now avore the zun
Did
My bwoy
A-flappen vrom their ivy bow'rs; My wife did watch my maid's light springs,
Out here
And John
An' there, of all that pried about The walls, I overlooked em best, An' what o' that? Why, I meiide out Noo mwore than all the rest: That there wer woonce the nest of zome That wer a-gone avore we come.
When woonce
above the tun the smoke Did wreathy blue among the trees, An' down below, the liven vo'k Did tweil as brisk as bees Or zit wi' weary knees, the while The sky wer lightless to their tweil. WILLIAM BARNES.
;
laboring
paid.
OLIVER
goldsmhh
PLACES.
And
215
partiug summer's liugci-iug blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of iuuoeence aud ease,
Seats of
my
youth,
1
please,
How
How
often Lave
often have
scene;
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighboring
hill.
The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made; How often have I blessed the coming day,
^\hen
toil
remitting lent
its
turn to play,
Aud
the viUage train, from labor free. Led up their f>ports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade.
all
;
The young contending as the old surveyed And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground. And sleights of art and feats of strength went
round
;
And
as each repeated pleasure tired. Succeeding sports the mirthful band insi)ired;
still
The dancing
i)air that simply sought renown, out to tire each other down; By holding The swain mistrustless of his smultcd face.
re-
like
these.
With sweet
toil to
please;
21G
DESCRIPTIVE P0E.U8.
shed,
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence These were thy charms, But
fled.
all
Sweet smiling
Thy
sports are
;
and
all
And
One
tyrant's hand is seen, desolation saddens all thy green: only master grasps the whole domain,
:
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain No more thy glassy brook reflects the day.
But choked with
sedges, works its weedy way. Along thy glades, a solitary guest. The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
flies.
And
And
with unvaried
cries.
in shapeless ruin all. the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's
ills
a prey.
:
Where wealth accumulates and men decay Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, tiieir country's pride,
When
When
time there was, ere England's griefs began. ever^' rood of ground maintained its man;
PLACES.
For bim
light
217
Labor
life
s{)read bor
wbolesome
store,
And
But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land and dispossess the swain Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose. Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to luxury allied,
;
every pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that ])lenty bade to bloom. Those calm desires that asked but little room. Those healthful s[iorts that graced the peaceful
scene,
And
Lived
in
each
look,
and
brightened
all
the
green ; These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more.
Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour. Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
Here as 1 take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruined grounds, And. many a y<'ar elapsed, return to view Where once he cottage stood, he h;i\vti)oi-n grew, KenuMubranee wakes with all her busy (rain. Swells at my Ineast, and turns the past to ]"aia.
I
I
in nil hiy
In
1
ill
ni.\
griefs
still
h;i(i
nnderings round ihis world of care, and Clod has given my share' liopes my latest lioui-s (o crown,
v.
Amidst
these
humble bowers
lo lay
me down;
218
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
life's taper at the close, the tiame from wasting by repose. keep I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,
To husband out
And
Around my
an evening group to draw, and all I saw; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return and die at home at last.
fire
And
tell
of all
I felt
Retreat from care, that never must be mine, How blest is he who crowns in shades like these,
youth of labor with an age of ease; quits a world where strong temptations And, since 't is hard to combat, learns to fl}'! For him no wretches, born to work and weep.
Who
try.
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep No surly porter stands in guilty state To spurn imploring famine from the gate; But on he moves to meet his latter end,. Angels around befriending Virtue's friend; Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay,
While Resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His Heaven commences ere the world be past!
Sweet was the sound, when
close
oft
at evening's
Up yonder
There, as
I
hill
the village
murmur
rose;
passed with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came softened from below;
PLACES.
The The The The The
219
swain responsive as the milkmaid sung. sober herd that lowed to meet their young,
noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, playful children just let loose from school.
wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And
filled
But now
No No busy
But
all
steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, the bloomy Hush of life is tied.
All but
yon widowed, solitary thing, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread,
To To To
mantling cresses spread, her wintry fagot from the thorn. pick seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn;
train, plain.
She only left of all the harmless The sad historian of the pensive
Near yonder
smiled.
copse,
where once
the
garden
And
where many a garden-flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. The village preacher's modest luansiou rose.
still
A man
And
country dear, with forty jjouuds a year; Kemote from (owns he lan liis godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his
lie
was
to all the
iassing
rili
place; Unpra<tise(l he to
f;iwii.
220
DESCRIPTIVE POEiJS.
varying Iiouu;
Far otlier aims his heart had learned to prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train,
He
swept aged breast; The ruined sjendtlirift, now no longer proud. Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
The broken
Sate by his
soldier, kindly
tire,
bade to stay,
and talked the night away; o'er his Wept wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.
Pleased witii his guests, the good
glow,
quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
man
learned to
And
His
i)ily g;'ive
Thus
And
But
to relieve the wretched was his pride. even his failings leaned to Virtue's side;
duty prompt at every call. Avept, he prayed and felt for And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
in his
He watched and
all.
To tempt
its new-fledged oil'spring to the skies, tried each art, rei.roved each dull delay, Allured to blighter worlds, and led the way.
He
Beside the bed where parting life was laid. sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed The reverend champion stood. At his control,
And
PLACED.
221
Despair aud auguish lied the struggling soul; Comfort tame down the trembliug wretch to raise,
Aud
At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. The service past, around the pious man,
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Even children followed with endearing wile,
Aud
i>lucked his
smile.
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed, Their v.el fare i)leased him, and their cares
tressed
;
dis-
To them
had
rest* in
As some
tall cliff,
that
lifts its
awful form,
the
midway
Though round
spread.
its
head.
Willi blossomed furze unprohtably gay, ThiM-e. in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule.
The village masier taught his little school; A man sevei-e he wiis. and stein to vi<'\\-; kiM'w liim well, and every tnmiil knew;
I
Well
liad
lo Irace
The day's
disasters in
liis
moi-ning face;
222
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
At
all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned;
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught. The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declared how much he knew, 'T was certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
And
even the story ran that he could gauge. In arguing too, the parson owned his skill. For even though vanquished, he could argue still
sound.
Amazed
And
the gazing rustics ranged around ; they gazed, and still the wonder grew Tbat one small head could carry all he knew.
still
But past is all his fame. The very Where many a time he triumphed, is
Near yonder thorn, that
lifts its
spot
forgot.
head on high,
Where once the sign-post uiught the passing eye. Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts
inspired,
Where graybeard mirth and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound.
The parlor splendors of that festive place; The whitewashed. wall, the nicely sanded floor,
.The varnished clock that cliciced behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to ]>ay,
A bed
PLACES.
TliC iMC-tures placed for
223
ornament and use. The Iv.elve good rules, the royal game of goose; The hearth, except when winter chilled the day, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;
A\'hile
Kanged
broken teacups, wisely kept for show, o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.
I
could not
all
!
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart
An
hour's importance to the poor man's heart; Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily caie;
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,
ponderous strength, and lean to hear; The host himself no longer shall be found
Itelax his
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
Shall kiss the cup to pass
it to
the rest.
Yes!
let
To me more dear, congenial to my heart. One native charm, than all the gloss of art;
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play. The soul adopts, and owns their lirst-born sway;
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, rncnvie.I, uiiiiiolested, un<(nlinc(l
:
lUil the
\\"\{h
long pomp, the midnight masijuorade, all the freaks of >\an(on wealth arraved,
ere trillers half their wish obtain,
In
tliese,
224
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; And, even while fashion's brightest arts decoy, The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy.
friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'T is yours to judge, how wide the limits stand
Ye
The
Between a splendid and a happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, And shouting Folly hails them from her shore;
Hoards, even beyond the miser's wish abound. rich men tlock from all the world around. Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his jjark's extended bounds,
And
Has robbed
;
growth where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green; Around the world each needful product flies, For all the luxuries the world supplies AVhile thus the land adorned for pleasure all
His
seat,
In barren splendor
feebl}^
waits the
fall.
As some fair female unadorned and plain. Secure to please while youth confirms her reign. Slights every borrowed chaini that dress supplies. Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes: But when those charms are past, for charms are
frail.
PLACES.
Wlioii time advances,
225
fail,
Thus
In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed; But verging to decline, its splendors rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise; While, scourged by famine from the smiling land
his
humble band;
And
while he sinks, witliout one arm to save. The country blooms a garden, and a grave.
Wliere
llicii.
ali
where
To
'scape the j)ressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits strayed
He
Those fenceless
drives his flock to pick the scanty blade. fields the sons of wealth divide.
tlie bar(^
And even
To To To To
worn common
is
denied.
liiin
ir to llie city
sped
What waits
there?
see profusion that he must not share; see ten thousand bamful aits combined
]am|ter luxury, and thin mankind; see those joys tiie sons of jdeasure know
Extorted fiom his IVWow-crealure's woe. Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, There the i;ile luiist jilies the sickly trade;
Here, while
dis|)lay.
ili<'
proud
ihcir
longdinw n pomps
There the black gibbet glooms iK'side the way. The <lome where IMeiisin'e holds iier midnight reign, Here, richly decl<e<l, admits the gorgeous train;
15
226
DESCRIPTIVE POEMfi.
!
Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! Sure these denote one universal joy
Are
Ah,
turn thine
lies.
eyes Where the poor houseless shivering female She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn
her friends, her virtue fled, Kear her betrayer's door she lays her head.
lost to all
;
Now
And
pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower. With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town. She left her wheel and robes of country brown.
Do
thine,
train.
Do
Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led. At proud men's doors they ask a little bread!
Where
To distant climes, a dreary scene. half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracks with fainting steps they go.
Ah, no.
to their woe.
Far different there from all that charmed The various terrors of that horrid shore;
Those blazing suns that dart a downward And fiercely shed intolerable day; Those matted woods where birds forget to
before,
raj".
sing.
But
silent bats in
i)()isonous
Those
crowned,
PLACES.
Where Where
The
the dark scoriiioii gathers death around at each step tlie stranger fears to wake
227
;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, And savage men more murderous still than they;
While
oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. Far d liferent these from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the grassy vested green. The breez}- covert of the warbling grove, That only sheltered thefts of harmless love.
i)art-
ing day That called them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round their bowers, and fondly looked
last.
their
And
For seats
look a long farewoll, and wished in vain like these beyond the western main;
still
And shuddering
Keturned and wept, and still returned to weep. The good old sire the first pre])ared to go To ncw-fouiid woilds, and wept for others' woe;
liut for himself, in ((mscious virtue brave,
The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of hei- charms.
And
AN'ith
left
where every j)leasnre rose; kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
clasped them dose, in sorrow doubly dear;
228
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
relief
Whilst her fond hiisbiiDd strove to lend In all the silent manliness of grief.
O Luxury
How How
exchanged are things like these for thee! do thy potions, with insidious joy,
ill
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms, by thee, to sickly greatness grown,
florid vigor not their own At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
Boast of a
is begun. destruction done; And half the business of Even now, methinks, as pondering here 1 stand,
land
Downward
waiting ila})s with every gale. they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.
Contented toil, and hospitable care. And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes placed above,
And And
Still
steady loyalty, and faithful love. thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid. first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame
Dear charming nymi)h, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, ray solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe. That found'st mo poor at first, and keep'st me so;
PLACES.
Thou guide by which
I
229
tlie
Tlion nurse of every virtue, fare thee well Farewell, and O where'er thy voice be tried,
Pambamarca's side, Whether where equinoctial fervors glow, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Toruo's
cl
ill's,
On
or
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, Redress the rigors of the inclement clime;
Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; Teach him, that states of native strength possest,
Though very poor, may still be very blest; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean swee])s the labored mole away While self-de[>endent power can time defy. As rocks resist the billows and the sky.
;
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
SONNET.
COMPOSED UPON WESTM IXSTEU
E.MtTii lias not
J)ull
r.lMU(;E,
LOXDOX,
1802.
anything to show moi-e fair; who could ]>ass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This city now doth, like a garment, wear The beauly of the morning; silenl. Iiar,^, Ships, towers, (Ionics, Ihcnlics. and l('m]les lie Open unio Ihc fields, and lo li"* sky. All hii^lil :Mid glitt<M'inu- in llic smokeless air. Never did snn moi'c 1>ennl ifnily sleep
would
lie
bo of soul
Til
his
fii-sl
Ne'er s:iw
1,
230
DESCRIPTIVE
The
Dear God
!
POEM.'?.
:
river glideth at his own sweet will the very houses seem asleep
all
And
is
lying
still
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
LONDON.
Athwart the sky a lowly sigh From west to east the sweet wind
The sun
stood
still
carried
;
on Primrose Hill
:
His light in
all
unconBumed.
Or swung
A rumor
broke through the thin smoke Enwreathing abbey, tower, and palace,
The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares, The million-peopled lanes and alleys,
An
The heart
PLACES.
231
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS."
An me
full sorely is
my
heart forlorn,
neglected
hei* blasts
lies,
adorn
;
Such deeds alone as pride and pomp disguise Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprise. Lend me thy clarion, goddess let me try To sound the praise of merit, ere it dies, Such as I oft have chaunced to espy.
!
Embowered
in trees,
Tliere dwells, in
matron
old,
whom we
Schoolmistress
name
:
Who
They grieven
durance pent,
;
Awed l)y the power of this relentless dame And ofttimos, on vagaries idly bent.
For unkempt
air,
And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree. Which Learning near her little dome did
Whih)ni a twig
stow,
of sm:ill rcgiird to see, iKiw so w idc its wiiviiig branches flow. Tliougli
And work tlie simpli' vassals inicklc woe; For not a wind might curl tlie leaves that blew, lint their liml)s shuddcicd, and their pulse beat
low;
232
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
as they looked, they found their horror grew, shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view.
And And
Her
right meet of decency does yield Her apron dyed in grain, as blue, I trowe.
Emblem
As
is
And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield Tway birchen sprays with anxious fear entwined,
;
With dark
And And
and sad repentance filled and sharp affliction joined. fury uncontrolled, and chastisement unkind.
distrust,
;
steadfast hate,
A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown A russet kirtle fenced the nipping air
:
'T
'T
was simple russet, V)ut it was her own was her own country bred the flock so fair, 'T was her own labor did the fleece prepare
;
;
And, sooth to say, her pupils, ranged around, Through pious awe, did term it passing rare For they in gaping wonderment abound. And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on
;
ground.
Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth, Ise pompous title did debauch her ear
Goody, good- woman, gossip, n'aunt forsooth. Or dame, the sole additions she did hear
;
lield
right
Ne would
Who
esteem him act as mought behove, should not honor eld with these revere
PLACED.
For never title yet so mean could prove, But there was eke a mind which did that
In elbow-chair
r>y the
(like that of Scottish stem,
233
title love.
In
wliicli,
Our sovereign prince and liefest liege The matron sat; and some Avith rank
(Tlie source of cliildrcn's
placed) graced,
!
slie
and
tlie
dear,
knew each temper to descry, To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high, And some entice with i)ittance small of praise; And other some with l)aleful sprig she 'frays:
Evcu absent, she the reins of jiower doth hold. While Mitli (juaiiit arts the giddy crowd she
sways Forewarned,
])ranks behold,
all
and
I.o
now with
connnand;
"Which with
I'o save
|)cllucid hoi-n
secured are,
:
lingi-r wet the letters fair The w(jrk so gay, that on Ihcir back is seen. Saint Geoigc's high achievements do(\s declare
from
On which
234
DESCRIPTIVE POEMF^.
the
Kens
forthcoming rod,
1
unpleasing
sight,
ween
sky,
And Liberty unbars her prison door And hke a rushing torrent out they fly And now the grassy cirque han covered
;
o'er
;
With
boisterous revel rout and wild uproar thousand ways in wanton rings they run.
Heaven
]3lore
For well may freedom erst so dearly won Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun. WILLIAM SHENSTONE.
't is
at
though
still fitfully
mound
And
fitfully
you
still
may
ranking round.
All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare ;
Some
rest
upon
their
sledges here,
some
work
And
every throe;
PLACES.
It rises, roars,
235
rends
all
outright,
Vulcan, what a
glow
'T
is
blinding white, 't is blasting brigiit, the high sun shines not so The high sun sees not, on the earth, such a fiery, fearful show, The roof-ribs swarth, the candent hearth, the ruddy,
!
lurid
row
like
men
through his fleece of flame, tlic monster slow Sinks on the anvil, all about the faces fiery grow. "Hurrah!" they shout, "leap out, leap out;" bang, ])ang, the sledges go Hurrah the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low
As,
quivering
sailing
A hailing fount
l)l()\v
;
The
tlic
rattling
strew
;
at every
And
Ho!
"
out,
my
masters
For
liciirt
of oak
is
slii[>
230
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
reef roaring
The low
Fj'oni
on her
lee,
ponred stem to stern, sea after sea the mainmast by the board The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats
; ;
But courage
still,
still
And
when ye
"Fear
Then moves
nothing, here am
in
;
though
he
said,
Swing
let
foot
and hand
any
sling
and
let the
rustling red
work
will
soon be sped Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich
array
For
hammock
an oozy
couch of clay
lay of
merry
PLACES.
When, weighing
love
slow, at eve they go
237
far, far
from
and home,
And
down
at
A
O
shapely one he
is,
and strong
as e'er
from cat
life
was
like
cast.
if
thou hadst
me,
What
who
'?
miglit
palaces
assembly
boil
of
me
beneath
Then deep
in
fierce sea
uniconi.
And
To
all his
bony blade
for-
And
To
Icnp
down
oil
wegian
lie lies,
isles
aiicIior:ig(^
a Inbbei-
sudden sludlowed
miles,
238
Till
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
snorting,
rolls
;
like
an under-sea volcano,
off
he
Meanwhile
shoals
Of
or,
haply in a
cove,
some Undine's
or,
To
mermaidens
hard by
cerulean
icy lands.
To
wrestle
sands.
And
thy delight, thy glory day by day. Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant
night by night
game
forgive the
name
A fisher's joy
O
is
Whose
side, or
who
that
Slow swaying
PLACES.
0, couldst thou
239
know what heroes glide with larger round thee, steps Thine iron side would swell with pride thou 'dst
;
who
left
the pleasant
To shed
AVho
land,
their
So freely for a restless bed amid the tossing wave O, though our anchor may not be all 1 have fondly
sung,
Honor
goes
among
SAMUEL FERGUSOlf.
NEWPORT-BEACH.
"Wave
after
wave successively
rolls
on
And
One To swell
dies along the shore, until more loud billow ^vith concentrate force is heard
And
And
Thus our
Or sentiment
o'er
chance emotion
And
all its
wayward
niidulations blend
!
240
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
THE SETTLER.
His echoing axe the
settler
swung
Amid
wood
Loud
dashed
From out his mossy nest, which crashed With its supporting hough. And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed On the wolf's haunt below.
Rude was tlie garb and strong the frame Of him who plied his ceaseless toil To form that garb the wild wood game
:
The The
tinsel,
Where men
The simple
crowds
collect;
fur,
untrimmed, unstained,
The paths which wound mid gorgeous trees, The stream whose bright lips kissed theii
flowers,
I'he
Through those sun-hiding bowers. The temple vast, the green arcade. The nestling vale, the grassy glade, Dark cave, and swampy lair These scenes and sounds majestic made
;
PLACES.
;
241
His roof adorned a pleasant spot Mid the black logs green glowed the grain, And herbs and plants the woods knew not
Throve in the sun and rain. The smoke- wreath curling o'er the
dell,
The
low, the bleat, the tinkling bell, All made a landscape strange.
Which was
The violet sprung at spring's first tinge The rose of summer spread its glow, The maize hung out its autumn fringe. Rude winter brought his snow
;
And
lone one labored there. His shout and whistle broke the air.
still tlie
hillock's side.
He
And
Roaring and crackling on its patli, scoicliing earth, and inciting wood. Beneath its greedy wrath
;
the rapid wliirlwind shoot. the Trampling pine-tree with its foot, And durkcning tliick the day
He marked
With streaming
His gaunt
Tlie
flashed,
;
grim bear hushed his savage growl In blood and fonm the jianther gnashed
His fangs, w
itli
dying liowl
VII 16
242
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The
fleet deer ceased its flying bound, Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground,
And, with its moaning cry, The beaver sank beneath the wound
Its pond-built
Venice by.
Humble
When
the lot, yet his the race. Liberty sent forth her cry,
Who
To
thronged in
fight,
to
bleed,
to
die!
Who
cumbered Bunker's height of red, By hope through weary years were led. And witnessed Yorktown's sun Blaze on a nation's banner spread, A nation's freedom won,
ALFRED
B.
STREET.
Habersham,
the valleys of Hall, I hurry amain to reach the plain. Run the rapid and leap the fall.
Split at the rock
Down
Accept
my
And
flee
from
on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the i)lain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall.
All
down the
hills of
Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried, " Abide, abide,"
thrall,
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK
PLACES.
The loving- laurel turned my tide, The ferns and fondling grass said " Stay," The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
243
And
the
little
reeds sighed,
'-
Abide, abide,"
Here Here
in the hills of
Habersham,
High
Habersham,
tall
Wrought me
her shadowy self to hold; The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Said,
"
Habersham,
These glades
And And
Habersham,
of.
Hall,
Did bar me of i)assage with friendly brawl; And many a luminous jewel alone
Cryst.il
linby.
oi-
Made
In
111
iui-cs
beds of
Rut oh:
Habcishnm,
not the valleys (tf Hall Avail; I am fain for to water the plain. J)ownward the voices of duty <'all;
oil
And
244
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Downward to toil and be mixed with the main; The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, Calls through the valleys of Hall.
SIDNEY LANIEE.
BAY.
FANNY."
WEEHAwncEN
And frolic hour of infancy is met And never has a summer's morning
;
smiled
Upon
full
when high
eye
Amid
O'er crags that proudly tower above the deep, And knows that sense of danger which sublimes
Is
wlien his daring step breathless moment, on the verge of the clitf, and he can hear The low dash of the wave with startled ear.
The
Like the death-music of his coming doom, '\nd clings to the green turf with desperate force. As the heart clings to life and when resume
;
The currents
There lingers a deep feeling, like th(^ uioau Of wearied ocean when the storm is gone.
In such an hour he turns, and on his view Ocean and earth and heaven burst l)efore him;
wonted
course,
PLACES.
Clouds
245
sluiuljc'i'iiig at his feet, and the clear blue Of suuuner's sky in beauty bending o'er him, The city bright below and far away,
;
Sparkling in golden
Tall spire,
light, his
own romantic
bay.
and glittering
roof,
and battlement,
;
And banners floating in the sunny air And white sails o'er the calm blue waters
Green
111
bent.
isle,
And many
Its
wild reality. When life is old. a scene forgot, the heart will hold
memoi-y of tliis; nur lives there one AVhose infant breath was drawn, or boyhood's days Of happiness were passed beneath that sun, That in his manhood's prime can cahnly gaze Upon that bay, or on that jnountain stand,
Nor
feel the
MANNATTATTA.
I
WAS asking
!iiy city,
for
something
specific
and perfect
for
Whercujioii
lo
Xow
I sec
in
a name, a woi'd,
Ii(iui(l,
my
city
is
that
word from
of
IJecause
see that
word
all
IJicli,
around with
sail slii])s
and
steam
s]ii|)s,
solid-
founded,
246
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
streets,
Numberless crowded
slender,
high growtlis of
iron,
ward
sundown,
The flowing
The
adjoining islands, the heights, the villas. countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers
well-modelled.
The down-town
streets,
the
jobbers'
houses of
business, the houses of business of the shipmerchants and money-brokers, the river-streets.
Immigrants arriving,
a week.
fifteen or
twenty thousand in
of drivers
The
manly race
air, the bright sun shining, and the clouds aloft. sailing Avinter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice
The
in the river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or ebb-tide. mechanics of the city, the masters, well-formed,
beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes, Trottoirs thronged, vehicles, Broadway, the women,
manners free and superb open million people voices hospitality the most courageous and
friendly
young men.
!
city of spires
and masts
my
city
WALT WHITMAN.
PLACES.
247
Above, the wheels of traffic roar. Below, the fleets sail fair ;
And
in
The surging
This road that leaps the brine Upon its heigiits twin cities meet,
!
And throng its grand incline, To east, to west, with swiftest feet. Though ice may crash and billows beat. Though blinding fogs the wave may greet
Or golden summer
Sail
shine.
colunms
lone
it
And When,
Till
looms, august, supreme, with the splendor of a dream, Its blazing cressets gild the stream
evening shad(j\vs
fly.
By
tliat
joy forbids,
silent tread,
248
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
The
crypt, the coffin's stony lids,
Sad as a soul the maze that thrids Of dark Amenti, ere it rids
Its
way
of
judgment dread.
and cheer
Are
That comes apace, though evil lowers, When loftier aims and larger powers Will mould and deck this earth of ours, And heaven at length bring near
!
Unmoved
Its
As gossamer
And past its towers the white gulls And winds the sea-clouds bear
!
soar
SCYTHE SONG.
Mowers, weary and brown, and blithe. What is the word methinks ye know. Endless over- word that the Scythe
? Sings to the blades of the grass below and in the clover, grass Scythes that swing
they say as they pass What is the word that, over and over. Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass
Something,
still,
PLACES.
Hash, ah hush, the Scythe was saying,
not, and fall asleep ; to the grasses swaying; J/t^sh, they say JL/sh, they sing to tlie clover deep
ira.s/i,
249
and heed
Iltish
't is
the lullaby
Time
is
singing
Jliish, and heed not, for all thlnfjs pass ; Iliish, ah hash ! and the Sojthes are svnnging
Over the
ANDREW LANG.
THE MOWEKS.
The sunburnt mowers
are in the swath
The towering lilies loath Treml)le and totter and fall The meadow-rue
Dashes
its tassels
of golden
dew;
all
And
The
Are thrown
Hastens away
"With
lialf
in a
smothered mass;
;
And And
'i'lie
brown b(!('s hie; niciulow-lark shrieks distix'st, leaves the jioor younglings all in the nest
LIk;
th<;
iail
And totters tlic .laeolTs-ladder tall. Weaving and winding and eur\ inglitho. O'er plumy liilloeks througii dewy hollows,
250
DE^CRIPTIYE POEMS.
Anon, the chiming wlietstones ring
Ting-a-li)ig !
Hng-a-ling !
And
the
mower now
Pauses and wipes his beaded brow. A moment he scans the fleckless sky ; A moment, the fish-hawk soaring high
And
What
Cunning fellows they are, Wise prophets to him " Higher or lower they circle and skim
Fair or foul to-morrow's hay- weather
Tallest primroses, or loftiest daisies. Not a steel-blue feather
!
"
fear not
"
!
And
The
his snath-ring's wedge. his finger daintily follows long blade's tickle-edge
;
Perchance the swallows, that flit in their glee. Of to-morrow's hay- weather know little as we " " Be it hidden in shower Says Farmer Russet. Or sunshine, to-morrow we do not own
!
To-day
is
ours alone
PLACES.
Not
a twinkle
251
we
'11
nibs
give
heel
and give
!
toe!
Lay a goodly swath, shaved smooth and low Prime is the day
"
!
Farmer Russet
Gray
is
As
And with heart most blithe, and He leads the row with his merry
"
sinews
lithe,
Come, boys
"While
strike
circle
up
we
around
in haytime sing
July
is
;)
July
is
Chorus.
O,
we'll
No
waste not a golden minute shadow of storm ilm IjIuc arch lines;
'11
!
We
252
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
'11
We
The sky
June
is
it
hay
The But
(Fair weather, fair weather ;) corn stretches taller the livelong day grass is ever too sappy to lay
;
June
is
August
that too far goes by ; (Late weather, late weatlier ;) Grasshoppers are chipper and kick too high And grass that 's standing is fodder scorched dry
!
month
;-
(Pull all together !) August 's a month that too far goes byl
July
is
(Best weather, best weather ;) The midsummer month is the golden prime For hayco(;ks smelling of clover and thyme ;
July
is
Still hiss
Shudder the
The
And,
lily-throng writhes;
as a plialanx of wild geese streams, Where the sliore of April's cloudland gleams,
On
PLACES.
Of
253
And
meadow
MYROX
B.
BENTON.
CHATEAU PAPINEAU.
(afloat.)
I.
The
red-tiled towers of the old Chateau, Perched on the cliff above our bark. Burn in (he western evening glow.
The fiery spirit of Papineau Consumes them still with its fever spark, The red-tiled towers of the old Chateau
I
Drift by and mark liow bright they show. And liiiw the iiiullioiicd windows mark!
Burn
in tlic
Diift down, or up, where'er you go. They flame from out (he distant ])ark,
rii
ic
i-Id
Cliali au.
saw
tin-
tiic
Tliiid< of liim
tliouglil bestow. As, blazing against the pine trees dark, T]u- red-tiled towers ol" the old ChAt.MU
I
now
One
Burn
in
254
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
(ashore.)
II.
"Within this
charmM
cool retreat
Where bounty dwelt and beauty waits, The Old World and the New World meet.
Quitting the straggling village street,
Enter, passing the great gray gates, Within this charmM cool retreat.
garden, ancient, neat, noise ne'er penetrates. and the New World meet.
For mouldering vault and carven seat Tell us that France predominates Within this charmed cool retreat,
Though Canada be felt in beat Of summer pulse that enervates The Old World and the New World meet
:
In
Enter
And
note,
how
That, in this
charmed cool retreat. The Old World and the New World meet.
III.
The garden
's
past.
'T
is
forest
now
Encircling us with leafy tide. Close clustering in green branch and bough.
The garden
's
past,
't is
forest
now,
PLACE&.
'T
is
255
more,
't is
Canada, and
how
is
spied
forest
now,
Yet doth the dial straight endow The green with glamour undenied, Close clustering hi green branch and bough.
Such
relics
who would
's
disallow
;
?
;
We
turn aside
The garden
Close clustering
forest
The
glint of steel, the gleam of brocade, "Monseigneur" up in his tarnished frame, A long low terrace, half sun, half shade
;
Tapestry, dusty, dim, and frayed, Fauteuil and sofa, a flickoring flame,
glint of steel, a
gleam
of brocade;
" jNtdme," on the wall as a roguish maid, Later some years as a portly dame.
Where " ^Idme.'s " ghost and " Monsieur's And play at omhre, their favorite game
The
glint of steel, the
parade
gleam of brocade,
Hang
Paceth a spectral peacock tame The long low terrace, half sun, Iialf shade.
25G
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Waketh a nightly serenade Where daylight now we see proclaim The glint of steel, the gleam of brocade, The long low terrace, half sun, half shade
The spell of Age is over all, The lichened vault, the massive keep, The shaded walks, the shadowy hall,
And
The The
No
marvel
if
a silken shawl
Be sometimes heard to trail and sweep The shaded Avalks, the shadowy hall.
creep,
age
is
over
all.
A foot we
muse both arched and small, Doth often tread this terrace steep. Those shaded walks, this shadowy hall
hall.
we
lightly leap.
!
The spell of Age is over all The shaded walks the shadowy
S.
FKANCES HAEKISON
(Seranm).
PLACES.
IN MEXICO.
TiiR cactus towers, sti-ai<^ht and tall, Thi'oiigh tallow tields of chapparal;
257
Aud
here and there, in paths apart, dusky peon guides his cart, And yokes of oxen journey slow,
In Mexico.
And
oft some distant tinkling tells Of muleteers, with wagon bells That jangle sweet across the maize,
And
green agave stalks that raise Kich spires of blossoms, row ou row, In Mexico.
the whitened city walls
Upon
The golden sunshine softly falls. On archways set with orange trees, On jiaven coui-ts and balconies NN'here trailing vines toss to and fro.
In Mexico.
And
\Villi
p;i(i('iil
liltic
(htnkeys fare
I.kIcii
sa<ldle-bags,
n;irr(w
loiiiid
and bear
(|ii,iiii(
Througli
ways
with
Wreathed
\\ax('ii
lily
water-jars stars
And
scarlet
.Mexico.
iiKirc
^^'h('Il
'^riic
Iwiliglil
falls.
tender
Vll
S(tii( lieiii
skies appe;ir,
<('
An<l
<l<i\\ri
17
green slopes
258
DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.
Come cascades of cathedral chimes; And prayerful figures worship low,
In Mexico.
A
Of
onyx, opal stones; land, wherein all seems Enchanted into endless dreams;
silver,
laz}'
And
Of life's unquiet, swift advance; But slipped into such gracious trance. The restless world speeds on, unfelt,
Unheeded, as by those who dwelt In olden ages, long ago. In Mexico. EVALEEN STEIN.
NARRATIVE POEMS.
NARRATIVE POEMS.
THE FALL OF
FROM THE
TTJOY.
" ,ENETD."
Forward we
ing
fare,
l)}-
Here
though no combats
all
beside
Ilion
ITore
we
In-lu'ld
in
liis
t'ocnicu
the roof
Scaling,
iicalhousc,
jav('lin-])roof.
Ladders rest
Stair
oiiUu.' walls,
the door
upon
stair, left
held
fast.
palai-e turn-t
Ketvdy with these, when the end seems death's dark hour
2Gi
\isilile,
2G2
NARRATIVE POEM^.
them now,
Form
close
in a ring.
bring
Aid
to the soldier,
inspire.
and valor
in
vanquished hearts to
Here Andromache,
alone,
ill-starred
entered
when
Oft to his grandsire with her the boy Astyanax led. Passing the covered way to the roof I mount overhead,
Where
lin
From
ment height
stars, whence Troy and the and the white Dorian tents were wont to be seen in a happier
Raised to the
Danaan
hour.
ships
'
we
assailed
it,
flooring of tower
GREECE.
Offered a joint that yielded,
263
it
we wrenched
loose,
and below
Sent
it
a-drifting.
It fell
on the
again,
foe,
Carrying ruin
afar.
round us
Facing the porch, on the threshold itself, stands Pyrrhus in Ijright Triumph, with glittering weapons, a flashing mirror
of light.
As
to the light
fed,
some
viper,
on grasses poisonous
slip-
High
to
the
three-forked
Periphas
Inigu
strides near,
and the
l)raye
Au-
tomedoii, long
Pyrrhus
Breaches
in
front
of
tlie
host, witli
a two-edged
2G4
NARRATIVE POEMS.
timbers, heart of the oak
Brass-clamped
Strikes,
panel cleaves, to
for the
the
and
yawning chasm
is
sunlight
long vistas of
is
Open
the
seen of
them
day,
of kings of
an
earlier
And
men
Women's
heard from
the
vaulted
rolled.
Scared
the
as
mothers in fear
Over
the
vast
courts
wander,
embracing
thresholds dear,
Clasping and
On
strides,
Pyrrhus
no gate can stay him, nor guard withstand him to-night Portals yield at the thunder of strokes plied ever
:
and aye Do\/n from the hinges the gates are flung on their
;
faces to
is
lie.
broken; the enemy's hosts stream inEntry wards and kill All in the van, each space with a countless soldiery
mi.
Not
o'l'r
its
barriers flows
ROME.
White
with
265
earth-built
mounds
When
on
the fields as
mountain
it
rolls,
by
Mold, Sweeping to ruin the herd and the eyes did behold
meadow and
stall.
These
and marked on
of the gate
I
Round her
a hundred brides
her
sons,
saw
each seeming a
dust
all lie
in
at
spoils,
the dnsl
Wlicre flames
!
passage,
Danaans hold
From
Translation of SIR
CHARLES BO WEN.
ITORATI rs AT
Lai;s I'oitsKNA
}^y (lie
THE
IMMlKiE.
That
P)y
Nine (iods
lie
swon-
it,
And named
a trysting-day,
266
NARRATIVE
And
POEMfi.
bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north,
To summon
his array.
East and west and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage
Etruscan
Who
When
Is
on
march
for
Rome
the footmen
amain
From many a stately market-place. From many a fruitful plain, From many a lonely hamlet,
Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest hangs on the Of purple Apennine
:
crest
snowy mountain-tops
;
From
Where
Heavy with
ROME.
From where sweet
Through
Clanis wanders
267
From where
heaven
Her diadem
of towers.
whose acorns
rill
;
Drop
in
dark Auser's
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian hill Beyond all streams, Clitumnus
;
Is to the
herdsman dear
Best
The harvests
of Arretium,
men
Round
There
till-
Whose
sires
have mavdicd
chosen
to
Rome.
b(; thii'ty
|iin|ih('t.s,
The wisest
of the laud.
Who
IG8
NARRATIVE
POEHIS.
Have turned tlie verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white
"Go
Have
forth,
Nurscia's altars
shields of
Rome
"
!
And now
A proud
For
all
man was
Lars Porsena
Were ranged beneath his eye, And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally
;
And
From all the spacious cliampaign To Rome men took their flight.
ROME.
269
A A
the
ways
was
to see
Through two long nights and days. For aged folk on crutches,
And women great with child, And mothers, sol>l)ing over babes
That clung
to
them and
smiled,
And
sick
men borne in
litters
And
High on the necks of slaves, troops of sunburned husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves,
droves of nniles and asses
of wine,
And
And endless flocks of goats and And endless herds of kine. And endless trains of Avagons,
sheep.
That creaked beneatli the ^\eight Of corn- sacks and of household goods, Choked every roai'ing gate.
Now,
fi'oni
The
K'cd
llic
midnight sky.
of the City,
The Fathers
They
With
sat
all
tidings of dismay.
To
Ffavi!
Nor
In Crustumerium stands.
?J0
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Verbenna down to Ostia Hath wasted all the plain Astur hath stormed Janiculum,
;
And
Senate
There was no heart so bold But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
When
Up
that
ill
news was
told.
FortliAvith
up
In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall.
They held a
council, standing Before the River-gate Short time was there, ye well
;
may
:
guess,
Out spake the Consul roundly " The bridge must straight go down
For, since Janiculum is lost, Naught else can save the town."
Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear
"
To arms
to
arms
is
Sir Consul,
Lars Porsena
here."
On
The Consul
And
And
Doth the red whirlwind come And louder still, and still more loud.
From underneath
ROME.
Is heard the trumpets' war-note proud,
271
the hum. more plainly Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right,
And
of spears.
And
Now
Of twelve fair cities shine But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, The terror of tlio Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul,
plainly
might the burghers know. By port and vest, by horse and crest, Each warlike Lucumo There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen And Astur of the fourfold shield, Girt with the brand none else may wield Tohimnius with llie Ixdt of gold. And dark ^'(;rbr'nna from the hold
:
Now
By
reedy Thrasymcnc.
the war,
car.
272
NARRATIVE POEMS.
By
the right wheel rode Mamilius,
name
And by
Was
seen
among
the
the foes,
arose.
A yell
On
From
town
woman
hissed,
curses,
sad,
And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall. And darkly at the foe
;
upon us
down
And if tliey once may win the What hope to save the town
bridge,
"
':'
Then out spake brave Tloratius, The Captain of the gate " To every man upon this earth
:
late.
And how
Than
can
man
die better
And
And
mother
rest,
Who
dandled him to
ROME.
And
for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast, for the holy
273
And
To
maidens
Who
save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame
" Ilew
down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may
;
I,
with two more to help me, Will liold the foe in play.
:
Now who
And
will stand
on either
Mitli
liand,
meV"
"
Lo, I
Avill
stand at thy
riglit
hand,
And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Ilerminius,
Of Titian
" I
\\ ill
l)lood
was he:
left side,
al)iil(!
on thy
And keep
'
iroratius," (lUdlli
llic
Consul,
"As tliou saycst so let it b(\" And straight against that great array Went forth the dauntless three.
For Ivomans
in IJonKi's fpiarrcl
Nor
life,
VH IS
In
lie brav(,'
days
of old.
274
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Then none was for a party Then all were for the state Then the great man helped- the
;
poor,
;
And
Then Then spoils were fairly sold The Romans were like brothers
:
the poor man loved the great lands were fairly portioned
!
old.
Now Eoman
More
is
to
Roman
hateful than a foe, And the tribunes beard the high. And the fathers grind the low.
As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold Wherefore men fight not as they fought
;
old.
Now
while the three were tightening Their harness on their backs. The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe
;
And
mixed with commons^ Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. And smote upon the planks above,
fathers,
And
Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing l)ack' the noonday
light,
Rank behind
A peal of
warlike glee,
ROME.
As that great host with measured tread, Aiid spears advanred, and ensigns si)read, Rolled slowly toward the bridge's head, AVliere stood the dauntless three.
The
three stood calm and silent,
27;-)
Before that deep array earth they sprang, their swords they drew. And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way.
;
To
Annus, from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines And Pieus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war,
;
Who
The
From
led to fight his Umbrian powers that gray crag where, girt with towers, fortress of Xe(iuinum lowers
Annus
;
At Picus brave
Darted one
Iloratius
fiery thrust,
And
arms
27G
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Then Ociius of Falerii Rushed on the Roman And LauHulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea
;
three
And Aruns
of Volsinium,
slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den
Who
of Cosa's fen,
And
wasted
fields,
Along Albinia's
Herminius smote down Aruns Lartius laid Ocnus low Right to the heart of Lausulus rioratius sent a blow " fell " Lie pirate there," he cried, No more, aghast and pale. From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark
;
;
:
No more
Thy
Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns, when they spy
thrice-accursed
sail
"
!
of laughter
;
Was
From
Six spears' length from tlie entrance, Halted that mighty mass. And for a space no man came forth
To win
But, hark
And
lo
ROME.
And
the great lord of lAina
his stately stride.
277
Comes with
Upon
his
ample shoulders
And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield.
He
"The
Stand savagely at bay But will ye dare to follow. If Astur clears the way V "
Then, wliirling uj) his l)roadsAVord AN'ith lioth hands to tlic lieight, He rushed against Horatius,
And smote witli all his might. AVith shield and blade Horatius
Kight deftly turned the blow.
turned,
came yet
too nigh
gashed
his thigh.
Sprang
rigid
IcH'tii
;i
Through
So
The
li
dut
J5ehind
278
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And
As
Far
the great lord of
Luna
on Mount Avernus
A
And
On
thunder-smitten oak.
o'er the crashing foi'est
;
lie spread the pale augurs, muttering low Gaze on the blasted head.
Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel.
And
"
What
To
But
Fair guests, that waits you here noble Lucumo comes next
taste our
Roman
cheer
"
at his
sullen
haughty challenge
murmur
ran.
Mingled with Avrath and shame and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess,
Nor men
For
all
Were round
But
all
Etruria's noblest
On
All shrank, like boys who, unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare,
ROME.
Come
to the
270
mouth
of the
dark
lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood.
who would be foremost To lead such dire attack But those behind cried " Forward " And those before cried " Back "
"Was none
;
!
And
l)ackward
And on
To
And
Dies
away.
for one
moment
;
Well known was he to all the three, And they gave him greeting loud
"
welcome, Sextus
to thy
home
Why
dost thou stay, and turn away Here lies the road to Rome."
dread;
And, whit(! with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way
of blood,
280
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And now
"
Above the
Come back, come back, Iloratius Loud cried the Fathers all,
"
"
Back, Lartius back, Ilerminius " Back, ere the ruin fall
! !
Lartius,
;
feet
felt
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athAvart the stream And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Home,
;
As
Was
And
The
like a horse
When first
And
And
Rushed headlong
to the sea.
ROME.
Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind, Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. " Down with him " cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face
281
Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, " " Now yield thee to our grace
!
Round turned
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus nauglit spake he But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home
; ;
And
Father Tiber
the
To whom
Romans
pray,
Roman's life, a Roman's arms. Take thou in charge this day " So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed The good sword by his side,
!
And, with his harness on his back, PAuiged headlong in the tide.
and
Witli parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing wlicri* lie sank;
the surges
282
All
NARRATIVE POEM 8.
Home And even
But
sent forth a rapturous cry, the ranks of Tuscany
Swollen high by months of rain; And fast his blood was flowing,
And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, And spent with changing blows And oft they thought him sinking,
But
still
again he rose.
But
his limbs
him
"
!
quoth
false Sextus,
?
villain
drown
But
"
day
!
" should have sacked the town " Lars Heaven help him Porsena, quoth
We
"
And
Was
And now he
bottom
Now on dry earth he stands Now round him throng the Fathers
;
To
ROME.
And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.
283
They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right. As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night And they made a molten image.
it
it
up on
if
high,
witness
It stands in the
Plain for
all
folk to
Comitium, see,
And underneath
In letters
is
written.
all of gold.
How
And
still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the N'olscian home; And wives still pray to Juno
For
l)oys
As
his wlio kept the l)ridge so well In the brave days of old.
in the ni^dits of winter,
And
284
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And
Is
When
And
When
And
When
And
is opened, the largest lamp is lit the chestnuts glow in the embers,
;
When
When
And
the girls are weaving baskets, the lads are shaping bows ;
When
And
When
AVitli
goodman mends his armor, trims his helmet's plume the goodwife's shuttle merrily
the
;
How
the story told, well Iloratius kept the bridge In the brave days of old.
THOR RECOVERS
Wroth waxed
HIS
HAMMER FROM
flown.
THRYM.
Tlior, when his sleep was And he found his trusty hammer gone He smote his brow, his beard he shook,
;
The son
of earth 'gan
And this
the
first
XOfx'f^ELAND.
"
'285
Xow
listen Avliat
I tell
thee,
Loke
is
known, Xor in heaven al)Ove my hammer's gone." Their way to Freyia's bower they took, And this the first word that he spoke
:
Which
"
Thou, Freyia,must lend a Avinged robe, To seek my hammer round tlie globe."
FREYiA sang.
"Thatshouldst thou have, though 'twere of And that, though 't^^cre of silver, liold."
gold,
Away
the winged robe sounds, flew Loke Ere he has left the Asgard grounds. And ere he has reached the .liitunheim bounds. High on a mount, in haughty state,
;
Tlirym, the king of the Thursi, sate For his dogs he was twisting collars of gold. And trinnning the manes of his coursers bold.
;
TuuYM
sang.
?
"How
Why
"TU
now
"
LOKK sang.
fare the Asi
;
the Alfi
mourn
Tlior's
hammer from
i'iii:\M
sang.
"T
bound
;
Fathoms cigliL beneatii the ground With it shall Uf) on(! homeward tread.
Till
he liriug
me
Kreyia to siiare
;
my
Ix'il."
vVway Hew Lolce tlie winged robe sounds, Ere lie has let'l tlie .Fill imheini hounds.
286
NARRATIVE POEMS.
ere he has reached the
And And
"
Asgard grounds.
:
crafty Loke,
this the first word that he spoke Have you your errand and labor done ?
you run
;
For, setting
oft,
And, lying
oft,
LOKE sang.
is past, mine errand I bring thine hammer, the giant king has Thrym With it shall no one homeward tread.
"
My
labor
Till
Their way to lovely Freyia they took. And this the first word that he spoke
:
"
ireful look
;
Her great bright necklace started mde " Well may ye call me a wanton bride,
If I
with ye to Jotunheim ride." The Asi did all to council crowd. The Asinise all talked fast and loud
This they debated, and this they sought, How the hammer of Thor should home be brought. Up then and spoke Heimdallar free. Like the Vani, wise was he
:
"Now
busk
Ave
Round him
And And
maiden
kirtle
hang
to his knees,
;
NORSELAXD.
And high and quaintly braid his hair," Wroth waxed Tlior witli godlike pride " Well may the Asi me deride, If I let me be dight as a blooming bride."
:
287
Then up spoke Loke, Laufeyia's son " Now hush this must be done: thee, Thor The giants will strait in Asgard reign.
:
If
thou thy
hammer
fair.
And
the great bright necklace gave him to wear. Round him let ring the spousal keys,
And a maiden kirtle hang to his knees, And on his bosom jewels rare And high and quaintly braided his hair.
;
then arose the crafty Loke, Laufeyia's son, and thus he spoke
"
Up
servant
Now home
Yoked to the axle they swiftly fly. The mountains shook, tlie earth burned red, As Odin's son to Jotunheim sped. Then Thryn], the king of the Thursi, said
:
*'
Giants, stand n\) let the seats be spread Bring Freyia, Niorder's dangliter, down.
;
To .share my bed, from Noatun. With lioiiis all gilt each coal-black
Is led to
;
beast
deck the giants' feast wealth and jewels have T stored Large I lack but Freyia to grace my board." Betimes at evening they ai)proach('d.
And the mantling ah' the gianta broached. Tliu spou.su of Silia ate alono
288
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Eight salmons, and an ox full-grown, And all the cates, on which women feed And drank three firkins of sparkling mead.
;
Then Thrym,
"Where have
Ne'er saw
I
And
the crafty Loke, thus the giant he bespoke " Naught has she eaten for eight long nights. So did she long for the nuptial rites."
:
He
"
But he
stooped beneath her veil to kiss, started the lengtli of the hall,
wiss
are the looks of Freyia so dire? It seems as her eyeballs glistened with fire."
Why
crafty Loke, thus the giant he bespoke "Naught has she slept for eight long nights, So did she long for the nuptial rites."
And
Then
Who
"
If
Those thou
my
All
my
Then Thrym, the king of the Thursi, said " Bear in the hammer to plight the maid
;
Upon her lap the bruiser lay, And firmly plight our hands and
The Thunderer's
fay."
When
th(^
haimner hard on
lap
was
placed.
Thrym tiist, the king of the Thursi, he slew And slauglitered all the giant crew.
He
N0R8ELAND.
prayed for bridal gifts so bold money and rings, I wot, The hammer's bruises were her lot.
Instead of
289
;
Who
his
hammer
got.
Uie Icelandic of
S.EMUND'S EDDA.
W. HERBERT.
Translatiou of
FRITIIIOF
KUUM
'T
IS
XI.
time to
earl,
how Angantyr,
The
High
Now
.Ml
swan
of gold.
The
swain,
;
Old
Ilalvar,
One eye ui>on the foamy main. One on tlie frothy meatl.
Oft as
II(!
tlie
veteran's dole
'J'lifn str;ii<;]it
witli
gravity
ihoi'iiuikI,
]{c])];icc(l
he
it
(.\!i;iust('il
lioni.
Now
"The
I
liiiilcd,
lidiiiidcd
(111
the
lloor,
\\;ii'<lfi' ci'icil,
laboring towaid
tin; sliore,
rowers strain,
And now
Vll lU
290
NARRATIVE POEMS.
ghastly forms, by giants twain, Are strewed along the strand."
chieftain o'er the glassy vale his hall on high :
is
And
The
"
Looked from
Yon pennon
Fl-ithiof, I
Ellida's sail
is
ween,
nigh.
That noble
port, that lofty brow, Old Thorsten's son declares Such cognizance, brave youth, as thou,
;
No
gallant
Northman
bears."
Swift from the bench, with maddening The Berserk Atle flew
;
air.
" I haste,"
Who
As vaunting rumors
Then twice six followers from the board Rushed forth with fierce delight They whirled the club, they waved the sword,
;
fight.
Thus storming,
to the
Where
Seated,
Fj-ithiof
by spent
Ellida's side,
Conquest," he 'gan, with thundering voice, " Were feat of light emprise, Yet generous Atl6 grants a choice,
dies.
NORSELAND.
For
Else
i)roffered peace deign once to sue, all umvont to plead,
291
To yonder keep
"
will lead."
conflict fell
and long,"
Be the fresh battle tried." Then from each sunburnt warrior's The lightning flashes came,
steel
And
Dark
signs of flame.
hail.
Now
clattering death-strokes l)eat at once, each shield's bossed mail cleft Till, Falls clanging at their feet.
The
Yet, proof alike 'gainst fear and ruth, They played the desperate stake ;
tooth,
And
Said Frithiof, " Swordless foeman's Ne'er dyed this gallant blade So, list thee to prolong the strife,
:
life
closed;
fast,
They hugged like bears, that, wandering Meet on their clill' of snow;
free,
292
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Grappled like eagles o'er the sea, That frets its waves below. Such force had well-nigh torn the rock, Deep-rooted, from its bed And, shaken less, the iron oak
;
Had bowed
its
leafy head.
Big from their brows the heat-drops Cold heaves each laboring chest,
roll,
Touched by their tread, stone, bush, and knoll Start from their ancient rest.
wait Trembling, their sturdy followers
The
And
oft shall
Northern
lips relate
The wrestling
'T
is o'er
;
of that day.
Has
felled his
ponderous
size
And
Supine the Viking lies. But fails my sword, thou Berserk swart The voice rang far and wide,
Its hilt
"
light.
My
NORf^ELAND.
Nor Frithiof long delayed intent To close the dread debate,
;
293
His blade redeemed 'gainst Atl^ bent, And aimed the expected fate.
This quelled his ire, this checked his arm. Outstretched the hand of peace.
tlie
cheer,
That Hildur's cates invite For you must stand the savoi-y meat Untouched in reeking row, For you these lips be parched with heat, llalvar his horn forego."
Now,
Thive passed the spacious gate. Whose valves to Fritliiof's view disclose
Wonders
For
phiiiks,
of wealth
liis
and
state.
To exclude
Berries of
gold.
Nocciilral balflirc
in
Ihc hail
;
With stifling s]I('ii(lor slionc But glcnved \\ilhin tlic cun fiiird
wall
A
No
heart]
of polished sLone.
The
Glass neatly S(|uaii'ii (lie windows graced The door a lock restrained.
291
ISKIRRATIVE POEMS.
For torch
of pine, whose crackling blaze Diffused a flickering gleam,
silver shed, bright rays Rivalled the solar beam.
From branching
He saw
With
And
And,
Small
glowed
As
His mantle, rich with many a gem, Strewed the bespangled ground ;
He
His gallant guest to greet. And led, with many a gracious phrase,
To
"
What
name
Might ask
Is thine, brave
youth
By
XORi^ ELAND.
295
Now
Their treasured nectar gave Not Etna's fire could sparkle more,
More
"Come, Be welcome pledged," he said, " And let the brimming goblet blend The living and the dead."
"Whilst jest and social joys engage, Swift the night-watches fled
;
Freighted with mirth, not fraught with rage. The golden goblet sped health to Angantyr they shout,
;
And
the close of each regale Frithiof wears the winter out, Ere swells Ellida's sail. From tlie Swedish of ELIAS TEGNER. Tnuislation of WILLIAM STRONG.
:
At
Who,
witli
Still in
Comest
Wrapt not
in Eastern balms,
fleshless
palms
Why
cavcriMius eyes
rise.
As when
Gleam
*
SupKestfiil
December;
hy an armor-cljiil skelfton du;^ up at Fall Rivor, and in tlie ballad coiiiKcted with the old Kutnaii Towor at Newport.
29G
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And,
like the water's flow
From
"I
was
Viking old
My
No No
Thou
in thy verse
For
sought thee.
with
my
Tamed
lair
Tracked I the grisly bear. While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow Oft through the forest dark Followed the were- wolf's bark,
;
But when I older grow, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew
"
With
the marauders.
XORI^ELA XD.
Wild was
the
life
29'
;
we
led
Many the souls that sped, Maii)^ tlie hearts that bled, By our stern orders.
out Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing,
As we
Measured
Filled to overflowing.
"
Once as
I told in
glee
And as the white stars shine On the dark Noi-way pine, On that dark heart of mine
Fell their soft splendor.
And
Like
bii'ds
within
llieir
nest
IJy Die
li;i \\
k IVigbled.
"
Ih-igbl
ill
Shields gleamed ii|k)1i (be wall. Loud sang the minslrcls all.
Chanting
bis glory
298
NARRATIVE POEM&.
When
I
of old Ilildebrand
To hear my story. While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed,
And
The sea-foam
Out
of those
unshorn,
From
She was a Prince's child, but a Viking wild, And though she blushed and smiled,
I
was discarded
Why
had
put to
sea.
Bearing the maid with me, Fairest of all was she Among the Norsemen
!
When
Waving his armM hand. Saw we old Ilildebrand, With twenty liorsemen.
'
to the blast,
Bent like a reed each mast. Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us
N0R8ELAND.
And with a sudden flawCame round the gusty Skaw,
So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us.
"
299
And
Round veered
*
'
!
the flapping
sail,
hail,
Midships with iron keel Struck we her ribs of steel Down her black hulk did reel
;
Seeking some rocky haunt. With his prey laden, So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
the maiden.
we westward
the shore
;
bore,
And
o'er.
Cloud-like
we saw
Stretchhig to leeward
There
Built
for
my
lady's
bower
I tlie
ti)
lofty tower.
this
Which,
"There lived \ve many years; Time dried tho niii idea's tears;
300
NARRATIVE POEMS.
She had forgot her fears, She was a mother Death closed her mild blue eyes ; Under that tower she lies Ne'er shall the sun arise On such another.
;
" Still
grew my bosom
a stagnant fen
!
then,
Still as
Hateful to
me were men,
hateful
!
The sunlight
upon my
spear,
!
scars.
'
Where
dying warrior lay, The stern old Baron Rudiger, Whose frame had ne'er been bent
GERMANY.
By wasting
"
301
toil
pain,
till
My
That
days of
I shall
life
and say
And
lead
They come, To tell ]ne now, that I, Their own liege lord and master born, That I ha! ha, ! must die.
"Ami
wiiat
is
Death?
I 've
Before the Paynim spear Think ye he 's entered at my gate, lias come to seek me here ?
I've
power;
my
tower,
And
\i'ul
tire tlie
cuhH'i'in,
eacli retainer
arm with
;
speed,
Up
with
my
banner on the
the pditiil of
wall,
Tlir
'I'hrttw
b;in([iicl-l)(i;ii(l
\\\i\{'.
jire])are,
my
hall,
tlii'ii,
The
hinKpict forth
was spread,
And rung the heavy oaken lioor With many a marli.U treail,
\Vhile from the rich, dnik tracery .Vlong the vaulted wall,
302
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear. O'er the proud old Gothic hall.
Fast hurrying through the outer gate, The mailed retainers poured,
On through the portal's frowning arch, And thronged around the board.
While at its head, within his dark, Carved oaken chair of state.
my
and strength in every drop, Thanksgiving to the vine Are ye all there, my vassals true ? Mine eyes are waxing dim Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, Each goblet to the brim.
There
's life
!
Ye 're there, but yet I see ye not. Draw forth each trusty sword, And let me hear your faithful steel
Clasli once
"
I hear
it
What
Up,
'
all,
clogs
my
heavy breath
"
Bowl rang
rose a deafening cry That made the torches flare around, And shook the flags on high " IIo cravens, do ye fear him ?
!
And
Slaves, traitors
have ye flown ?
GERMANY.
Ho
!
303
To meet him
" But
/defy him
let
him come
"
!
Down
Came
While from
up and heavy plumes Scarce treu)hling on his head. There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, Old Kudiger sat, dead. ALBERT G. GREENE.
flashing lialf-way
])lack
bless
you
!
l)eauty,
by
my
soul
A red-clay
What
fiowei'-pot, rinnned with gold so neatly ask you for the liowl? "
"O
sir,
that bowl
;
for
Avorlds
with
brave
it
Who won
At
"
man gave
it
me,
you?
of a bashaw
i
Belgrade's victory.
sir,
There,
the show-
Bong
life
to Prince
Eugene!
Like after-grass you might liave seen us Tile 'J'urkish ranks dcnvn clean."
mowing
"Another time
Ml
304
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And
let
me have
" I
'm a poor churl, as you may say, sir; My pension 's all I 'm worth Yet I 'd not give that IjowI away, sir, For all the gold on earth.
:
now
Once, as
we
hussars,
all
merry.
Hard on the
A
"
At once across my horse I hove him, The same would he have done, And from the smoke and tunuilt drove him
Safe to a nobleman.
" I
nursed him, and, before his end, bequeathing His money and this bowl To me, he pressed my hand, just ceased his breathing,
And
"
so thought
I
I-
Three plunderings suffered he And, in remembrance of my old friend, brought The pipe aAvay with me.
:
campaigns with
;
me
it
bore
it,
In flight or in pursuit
It
was
THE ORIENT.
"
305
sir,
I lost it
of
by a shot, Prague
:
my
sir,
And
"
then picked up
my
leg."
:
And
"
They
called him only the brave Walter His farm lay near the Rhine."
"
God
bless
your old
e^'^es
't
was
my
father,
And
"
is
mine.
Come,
11
friend,
you
've seen
With me
is
We
"
Now,
done
're
march
in,
then, to-morrow
;
You
And when
From
I die,
The Turkish
the GernKva of
Translation
M.\^^T()T'T).
TiiERK came a man. makin;; his linsiy moan IJeforc the Sultan Malimoud on liis (hrone.
And And
"
rryinii' onl.
I
irill
Son-ow,"
VII
Malimoud,
"
is
a reverend thing;
iiO
30G
NARRATIVE POEMS.
I recognize its right, as king with king ; " fiend has got into house," Speak on." Exclaimed the staring man, " and tortures us,
my
One
of thine officers
lie
comes,
tlie
abhorred,
And
takes possession of
;
My
bed
And
have two daughters and a wife, the wild villain comes and makes me mad with
I
my
house,
my
board,
life."
now ? " said Mahmoud. " No he left The house when I did, of my wits bereft, And laughed me down the street, because I vowed
" Is he there
;
I 'd I
'm
bring the prince himself to lay him in his shroud. mad with want, I 'm mad with misery.
cries out for
The Sultan comforted the man, and said, " Go home, and I will send thee wine and bread (For he was poor) "and other comforts. Go
;
"
And
let
Sultan
Mahmoud
know."
In three days' time, with haggard eyes and beard, And shaken voice, the suitor reappeared. And said, " He's come." Mahmoud said not a word. But rose and took four slaves, each with a sword, And went with the vexed man. They reach the
place.
And
That
face,
:
Go
window fluttered in affright said Mahmoud, " and put out the
first to
light
;
But
the females
leave the
room
And when
we come."
THE ORTEXT.
The man went
in.
307
There was a
is
cry,
and hark
:
tal)le falls,
the
window
struck dark
curses comes the fiend in desperate mind. In vain the sabres soon cut short the strife,
:
With
And chop
life.
"
Now
was done he took it in his hand and bowed Over the corpse, and looked upon the face Then turned and knelt, and to the throne of grace Put up a prayer, and from his lips there crept Some gentle words of pleasure, and he wept.
'T
;
In reverent silence the beholders wait. Then bring him at his call both wine and meat And when he had refreshed his noble heart,
lie
blest,
and rose up
to depart.
tears,
The man
now and
with many prayers, And begged him to vouchsafe to tell his slave The reason first of that connnand he gave About the light then, when he saw the face,
Fell at the Sultan's feet
;
Wliy That
lie
knelt
down and
;
lastly,
how
him
it
was
in the jDlace.
The Sultan
I
me
IJy
wliom
siicli
jMust be
some
loid of miiic,
ay,
e'en pcrliaps a
:
S07i.
For this I had the light put out but when I saw the face, and found a stranger slain, I knelt and thanked the sovereign Arbiter,
308
NARRATIVE POEM^.
I
;
had performed through pain and fear And then I rose and was refreshed with food, The first time since thy voice had marred my soli-
Whose work
tude."
LEIGH HUNT.
PRINCE ADEB.
In Sana, O, in Sana, God, the Lord, Was very kind and merciful to me Forth from the Desert in my rags I came, Weary and sore of foot. I saw the spires
!
And
swelling bubbles of the golden domes Rise through the trees of Sana, and my heart Grew great within me with the strength of God
And
I,
I cried out,
"
Now
shall I right
myself,
"
Adeb
God
is
just!
There he who wronged my father dwelt in peace, My warlike father, who, when gray hairs crept Around his forehead, as on Lebanon The whitening snows of Avinter, was betrayed
To
Imam, and his tented wealth from him, 'twixt the roosting of the cock Swept And his first crowing, in a single niglit: And I, poor Adeb, sole of all my race. Smeared with my father's and my kinsmen's blood,
the sly
Flod through the Desert, till one day a tribe Of hungry IJcdouins found me in the sand, Half mad with famine, and they took me up.
And made
me, a prince from them. All was fuliillcd at last. but my heart, In rags and sorrow. Nothing Like a strong swinnner, bore me up against
a slave of
me,of
I fled
THE ORIENT.
The howling sea of my At length o'er Sana, in
I stootl like a
309
adversity.
young eagle on
The
I
traveller passed
for
me with
suspicious fear
nothing; I was not a thief. The lean dogs snuffed around me my lank bones, Fed on the berries and the crusted pools,
asked
Were
Called
a scant morsel.
Once a brown-skinned
girl
me
common
path,
And
gave
me
figs
and
kiss,
bai-ley in a bag.
I paid Ixr
And And
I
with nothing more. she looked glad; for I was beautiful. virgin as a fountain, and as cold.
with a
Iler figs
foot
stretched her bounty, pecking like a bird and barley, till my strength returned.
ricii Sana lay beneath my eyes, was as tlie leopard's, and my hand
;
So when
j\Iy
As heavy
as the lion's brandished paw And underneath my burnished skin the veins And stretcliing muscles played, at every step,
In wondrous motion.
I l(;(jkcd
upon
my
Iody, as a bird
That
I,
Itills
watching over Sana. Then I i^rayed And on a soft stone, wetted in the brook,
(iroinid
(iod licai'd
])raycd again
tor
I
mo,
saw
The
III
mam's summer-palace
last
tiasli
all abla/.e
till'
of siiiiscl.
K\cry
(lie
loiiiit
Was
JJ()r('
spouting
liri',
and
all
the orange-trees
marble walls
Andgilde(l
and
eoliiiniis,
strangely wrought,
310
NARRATIVE POEMS.
light, until
my
With
I lay
the
fierce
splendor.
Till
thick,
Still as
The guard hung round the portal. They dropped away, save one lone
Man by man
sentinel.
;
And on his eyes God's finger lightly fell He slept half standing. Like a summer wind
I stole
That threads the grove, yet never turns a from shadow unto shadow forth
;
leaf,
Crossed all the marble courtyard, swung the door Like a soft gust, a little way ajar, My body's narrow width, no more, and stood
in the painted hall. marvelled at the riches of my foe I marvelled at God's ways with wicked men. Then I reached forth, and took God's waiting hand
I
And
over mossy floors. Flowered with the silken summer of Shiraz, Straight to the Imam's chamber. At the door
Stretched a brawn eunuch, blacker than my eyes His woolly head lay like the Kaba-stone In Mecca's mosque, as silent and as huge. I stepped across it, with my pointed knife
:
so he led
me
Just missing a
full
all.
Tliat,
I
next to heaven, I longed for most of could have shouted for the joy in me.
Fierce pangs and flashes of bewildering light Leaped through my brain and danced before
eyes,
my
TEE ORIENT.
So loud
311
its
my
feared
sound
Would wake the sleeper and the bubbling blood Choked in my throat till, weaker than a child, I reeled against a column, and there hung In a blind stupor. Then I prayed again And, sense by sense, I was made whole once more. I knew I was the same I touched myself
:
Myself to be lone Adeb, young and strong. With nothing but a stride of empty air Jk'tween me and God's justice. In a sleep, Tliick with the fumes of the accursed grape.
Sprawled the false Imam. On his shaggy breast. Like a white lily heaving on the tide Of some foul stream, the fairest woman slept These roving eyes have ever looked upon.
Almost a
child, her
Were
gh'lhood. All her charms half opened for I saw l)udding, but
itself.
process of her blooming days. I gazed \\\n)n her, and my heart grew soft, As a parched pasture with tiie dew of heaven.
While thus I gazed she smiled, and slowly raised The long curve of her lashes; and we looked Each ujjon each in wonder, not alarm, Not eye to eye, but soul to soul, we held Each other for a moment. All her life Seemed centred in tlu; circle of her eyes.
She stirred no limb JK.'r long-drawn, equal breath Swelled out iind ebbed away beneath her breajst, Not a sign of fear In calm unbroken. Touched the faint color on her oval cheek,
;
312
NARRATIVE POEMS.
of her tender
vision,
mouth. and she lay With her sleep's smile unaltered, as in doubt Whether real life had stolen into her dreams,
Or dreaming stretched into her outer life. was not graceless to a woman's eyes.
Tlie girls of Damar paused to see me pass, walking in rags, yet beautiful. One maiden said, " He has a prince's air " I am a prince ; the air was all my own.
I
my
So thought the
lily
And
lightly as a
summer
Without
From
With
her coarse pillow, and before me stood asking eyes. The Imam never moved.
A
I
stride
all
my
I
Were wholly
my
power.
held a Wiirning finger to my lips, in her small, expectant ear, " " She replied Adel), the son of Akem
And whispered
Almost
The
arrayed me Shining with gold and jewels and I l)ou]id In my long turban gems that might liave l)ought The lands 'twixt Babelmandel) and Sahan. I girt about me, with a blazing belt,
Then
it is thy right, I knoAV, for thy own soul's sake " in a r()l)e of state.
!
THE ORIENT.
Damascus luuiiuiered fur long years, hilt and scabbard shot a trembling light From diamonds and rubies. And she smiled,
In far
313
Wlu.sc
As To
I
piece by piece 1 put the treasures on, in pride she smiled. see me look so fair, at my side. I scooped, lunig long purses
From ott' a table, tigs and dates and rice, And bound tlieni to my girdle in a sack.
Then over
all
I
Hung
snowy
cloak.
And
l)i'ckonc<l to tiic
maiden.
So she
stole
Forth like my shadow, past the sleeping wolf ^Vho wronged my father, o'er the woolly head Of the swart eunuch, down the painted court,
And by
the sentinel
who
standing slept.
Strongly against the portal, through my rags, My old base rags, and tlnough the maiden's veil, T pressed my knife, upon the wooden hilt
Was In my
MV)
"
Ijy
me
wait the Imam's waking. Shadcjws cast From two high-sailing clouds upon the sand
I'assed
ii<>t
more
noiseless than
we
t\\(),
as one,
till I
smelt
The fragrance of the stables. As I slid The wide doors open, with a sudden bound
Uprose the startled horses: but
Still
tliey
stood
as the
man who
in a foieign land
Hears his si range language, when my Desert call. As low and jihiintive as the nested dove's. From stall to stall. Fell on lliiir listening ears.
Feeling
I
I
hi-
horses with
my
groping hands,
I
crept
I'jx)!!
eaiiie darkness; and at length rounded whose sister mares two sides.
in
314
NARRATIVE
P0E3IS.
ears,
And
foreheads spreading 'twixt their eyelids wide, Long slender tails, thin manes, and coats of silk,
hundred steeds there stalled, treasures. O'er and o'er My I felt their bony joints, and down their legs no blemish anywhere To the cool hoofs These 1 led forth and saddled. Upon one
Told me,
that, of the
gathered
now
for me,
own, henceforth, forever. So we rode Across the grass, beside the stony path,
My
Until
we gained
When, with
Knew
a cry that both the desert-born without hint from whip or goading spur,
.
"We dashed into a gallop. Far behind In sparks and smoke the dusty highway rose And ever on the maiden's face I saw.
When
It
upon it, the strange smile Once I kissed her mouth When she grew weary, and her strength returned. All through the night we scoured between the hills: The moon went down l)eliind us, and the stars Dropped after her but long before I saw
the
flashed
moon
wore on waking.
planet blazing straight against our eyes. The road had softened, and the shadowy hills
Hnd
flattened out, and I could hear the hiss Of sand spurned backward by the flying mares. I was at home again Glory to God The sun rose on us far and near I saw The level Desert; sky met sand all round.
! !
We
And
paused at midday by a palm-crowned well, ate and slumbered. Somewhat, too, was said
THE OR I EXT.
The
315
We
Avords have slipped my memory. That same eve rode sedately through a Hamoum camp,
I, ^Vdeb, prince amongst them, and my l)ride. And ever since amongst them I have ridden, A head and shoulders taller than the best And ever since my days have been of gold, My nights have been of silver, God is just GEORGE HENRY BOKER.
;
THE LEPER.
"Room
for the leper
!
room
"
"
!
And
for
as he
came
!
Room
the
leper
And
Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood, all Who met him on his way, and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A le])er with the ashes on his brow. Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow,
And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down,
Crying,
"
Unclean
unclean
"
!
When
The
at the altar of the temple stood holy priest of God. The incense-lamp
light, and a low chant Swelled through the iiollow arches of tliu roof, Like an articulate wail, and there, alone,
Wasted
o KJ
NARRATJVI^ POEMS.
of the in the distant aisles,
The echoes
Died
melancholy strain and he rose up, with Struggling weakness, and bowed down his head
ashes, and put off raiment for the leper's garb, costl)' And with the sackcloth round him, and his Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still,
His
lip
Waiting
"
to hear his
doom
Depart
depart,
child
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, For he has smote thee Avith his chastening
rod,
thou lov'st away thy feet must flee, his people may be free.
Depart and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more; Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er
stay thou not to hear Voices that call thee in the way
And
all
and
fly
From
"
who
Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide
Nor
rest thee
hide.
Nor kneel thee down to dip The water where the pilgrim bends
to drink.
By
Thi^
"And
pass not thou between weary traveller and the cooling breeze, li(^ not down to sleep beneath the trees
tracks are seen
;
THE ORIENT.
317
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain Nor pluck the standing coin or yellow grain.
"
And now
heart
is
Thy
Lift
to
Him
Wlio, from the tribes of men, Selected thee to feel his chastening rod.
Depart
leper
"
!
And
he went forth alone not one of all The many mIioih he lov('(l, nor she whose name "Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking A^'ithin him now, to come and sjieak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way,
Sick and heart-broken and alone, For God had cursed the leper
!
to die
Tt was noon, .\nd Ilelon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone Avilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning lei)rosy, and touched
The
to die!
lij),
iijis,
wiih no strength to
He drew
Of
till'
in
the folds
He
coarse sa(;kcloth shrouding U[) his face, fell upon Uk; earth till they slioiild jkiss.
tlie
Nciircr
stranger
"'
ciinic,
Tlic Icpi'i's
"
|)ii)strat(! I'oiiii,
-
HeU)n
rich
Of a
Ami
ills! nniiciit, most sliangcly sweet; the dull pulses of disease awoke.
318
NARRATIVE POEMS.
beat beneath the hot
with a restoring
thrill,
Helon
arise
"
!
and he forgot
his curse,
The
kingly condescension graced his lips lion would have crouched to in his
lair.
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn ; His stature modelled with a perfect grace ; His countenance, the impress of a God, Touched with the open innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon his hair unshorn
;
The
fulness of perfected
manhood
bore.
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, As if his heart was moved, and, stoojiing down, He took a little water in his hand And laid it on his brow, and siiid, " Be clean " And lo the scales fell from him, and his blood
!
!
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him.
And
NATHANIEL PARKER
AVII.LIS.
THE ORIEST,
319
still
be-
hold
Death wounds but kills not love yet if thou live, Sweet soul, still in his breast, my follies bold Ah pardon, love's desires and stealth forgive Grant me from his pale mouth some kisses cold,
:
And of Let me
Since death doth love of just reward deprive, thy spoils, sad death, afford me this,
and
bloodless, kiss.
"O
kind and sweet gentle mouth! with speeches Thou didst reliov^e my grief, my woe, and pain;
Ere
from this frail body fleet. Ah, comfort me with one dear kiss or twain Perchance, if we alive had happed to meet, They had been given which now are stolen
my weak
soul
oh
vain,
feeble
let
life,
betwixt his
first,
lips
out
let
fly
Oh,
me
kiss thee
then
me
die
'Receive
my
it
Guide
This
said,
to
yielded spirit, and with thine heaven, where all true love hath
place."
And from
face.
she sighed and tore her tresses fine, her i^yes two streams poured on his
Tlie man, revived with those showers divine, Awaked, and opened his lips a space
;
His
lips
And
him uplHes.
320
NARRATIVE POEMS.
that Tancred breathed and
sight,
"
says),
my
lord and
knight.
See See
my
last services,
my
plaints,
and
tears
lier
woful plight,
That of thy pain her part and portion hears Once look on me small is the gift I crave, The last which thou canst give, or I can have."
:
Tancred looked up, and closed his eyes again, Heavy and dim and she renewed her woe. Quoth Vafrine, " Cure him first and then complain Medicine is life's chief friend, plaint her worst
;
foe."
They plucked
Each
joint,
off,
felt
vein.
so.
;
And
and
soon found.
From
His greatest pains and anguish most proceed. Naught but her veil amid those deserts wide She had to bind his wounds in so great need:
liut love could other
vide,
And
For She
pity
witli lier
tied
wept for joy to see that deed amber locks, cut oft", each wound O happy man, so cured, so bound
!
For Avhy
her
veil
tliin,
those deep
:
And
and bind
^PAIN.
;
321
Nor salve nor simple had she yet to. keep Her knight alive, strong charms of wondrous kind She said, and from him drove that deadly sleep.
That now his eyes he lifted, turned, and twined, And saw his squire, and saw that courteous dame
In habits strange, and wondered whence she came.
He said, " O Yafrine, tell me whence com'st And who this gentle surgeon is, disclose."
thou.
She smiled, she sighed, she looked she wist not how. She wept, rejoiced, she blushed as red as rose
:
"
You
shall
know
all
"
(she says)
"
;
your surgeon
now Commands your silence, rest, and soft repose; You shall be sou'i.d, prepare my guerdon meet."
His head then laid she
in
From
the Italian of
TORQUATO TASSO.
Translation of
EDAVARD FAIRFAX.
Aiti:int
Conversed as they sat on the green They gazed on each otluT w iih Icnch-r delight
Alon/i) the IJrave
was the
ikuiic of ihc
knighi,-
The
"
.\ii(l
<
go
To
Some
light
my absence
will l)est(tw
''
On
VII
hand
21
822
"
NARRATIVE
0,
POEM(^.
Imogine
said,
For,
I
if you be living, or if you be dead, swear by the Virgin that none in your stead Shall husband of Imogine be.
" If e'er
lust or by wealth led aside. the Brave, Alonzo Forget my God grant that, to punish my falsehood and pride. Your ghost at the marriage may sit by my side, May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,
I,
by
And
To
bear
me away
to the grave
"
!
Palestine hastened the hero so bold, His love she lamented him sore
;
But
scarce
be-
hold
A baron,
all covered with jewels and gold, Arrived at Fair Imogine's door.
His treasures, his presents, his spacious domain, Soon made her untrue to her vows He dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain He caught her affections, so light and so vain. And carried her home as his spouse.
;
The revelry now was begun The tables they groaned with the weight
:
of the
feast.
When
the laughter and merriment ceased. the bell at the castle tolled one.
SPAiy.
Then
first
323
A
His
air
stranger was placed by lier side was terrific lie uttered no sound,
;
He spake
bride.
His visor was closed, and gigantic his height, His armor was sable to view All pleasure and laughter were hushed at his
;
sight
The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back in affright The lights in the chamber burned blue
!
His presence
all
The guests
sat in silence
At
while
she trembled,
"I
I'l-ay,
Sir knight, that your helmet aside you And deign to partake of our cheer."
would lay
The
lady
is
silent
O God
what
a sight
When
a skeleton's
met Fair Imogine's eyes her dismay and surprise, head was exposed
All prosont then uttered a tcniliiil shout, All turned with disgust from the scene;
crept
in,
And
While
324
" Behold
"
NARRATIVE POEM^.
me, thou false one, behold
the Brave
!
me
"
!
he
cried,
Remember Alonzo
to
punish thy falsehood and pride. My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,
And
"
!
Thus saying his arms round the lady he wound, While loudly she shrieked in dismay Then sunk with his prey through the wide;
yawning ground, Nor ever again was Fair Imogine found. Or the spectre that bore her away.
Not long
To presume For chronicles tell that, l)y order sublime. There Imogine suffers the pain of her crime, And mourns her deplorable doom.
;
At midnight,
sprite,
When
Arrayed in her bridal apparel of white. Appear in the hall with the skeleton knight,
And
Dancing round them the spectres are seen is blood, and tljis horrible stave howl "To the health of Alonzo the Brave, They
Their liquor
:
And
"
SPAIN.
321
by there rode a valiant knight, from the town Oviedo Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of
of
When
Desparedo.
Avhy sitt'st thou by the spring? Say, dost thou seek a lover, or any other thing ? gazest tliou npou mo, with eyes so large and
!
"
Why
And
lie
"
broken by thy
]5ecause an
ai-tielo
like that
my
way
Jiut wliy I gaz(! ujioii you, T eainiot, caiuioi tell, Except that in your iron hose you look unconnnon
swell.
"3Iy
iiitclirr it is Ijrokeii,
and
is
A
I
slu'pjicid
tried to snalcli a
kiss
word
jiig
But scored
broke.
hitu
(lie
was
"3Iy
uncle, the
Alcayd^,
lie
wnils for
unlil
And
tiiinlilci-
me
at
326
NARRATIVE POEMS.
him
water,
I cannot bring
the pitcher
it,
is
And
"
'cos
he wallops
by
me
lips,
and give me
And
To
my
carry
home
the water
uncle,
the
Alcayd^."
He
lighted a tree
down from
off his
steed he
and took
tied
him
to
He bowed him
three
"
to the maiden,
his kisses
To wrong
a sin
!
swear would be
his hel-
He
knelt
him
in.
at the fountain,
and dipped
met
Ijehind
the knight
And
caught Alphonso
heels
;
Guzman up
tightly
by the
in,
bubbling water, Now, take thou that for venturing to kiss Al Hamet's daughter "
Christian maid is weeping in the town of Oviedo She waits the coming of her love, the Count of
;
Desperedo.
FRANCE.
I pray
327
How
you all in charity, that you will never tell he met Moorish maiden beside the lonely well WILLIAM JSDMONSTOUNE AYTOUif.
CALENDAU."
At
Christian and Saracen, fought till the tide Ran red with the slaughter.
May God
By
And
Wherias
lie
fled afar,
Of
nephew
:
slaiu.
Now
He
Hu
are the kings upon his trail ; slays as he flies like fiery hail
His sword-strokes
hius
rain.
him
No
shelter there
is
Moorisli hi\e
the
liis
home
of tlic dead,
And
hard
lie
spurs
liis
goodly steed
In
despair.
Over the
iiKjuntiiin
Flies
Count
he ever sees
328
NARRATIVE POEMS.
;
mighty cry, Calling his haughty v/ife by name " Guibour, Guibour, my gentle dame,
;
Open
"
'T
is I
to thy
Guillaume
the city
By
den
"
!
cried,
Nay, chevalier, I will not open my gates to thee For, save the women and babes," said she,
" "
Whom
I shelter here,
And
My
Are
"
who keeps the lamps alight. Alone am I. brave Guillaume and his barons all
the priest
fighting the
Moor by
fly
!
And
scorn to
"
(God rest their souls !) they are dead," he cried, Or rowing with slaves on the salt sea-tide.
I
"
fire in tlie dying day have heard one shriek Go up from all the arenas Avhere
Of Aries on
I
FRANCE.
The nuns
disfigure their bodies fair
329
"His
brutal will.
Avignon's
!
self
Will
fall
"
!
"I
swear
"
Guibour,
!
Thou base
deceiver
Thou
Who
Guillaume, never
to look
on burning towns by f/iee ! Guillaume to see his comrades die, Or borne to sore captivity.
"
Guillaume
And
fired
then to flee!
Where
"^riic licatlit'ii 'J'lic
He
fly
!
is
a tower
doinii is sure,
vii'gin's lioiior
aye secure,
l)y!"
When
("luilliiuiiK;
he
is
llctwcen his
Wliilc
Icai's of love;
Ills l)uriiiiig
Und(n'
330
NARRATIVE
seized his
POEMfi.
his spurs
And
To
The Moorish
foe.
As
Upon the tender grass fall thick. Until the flying remnant seek
Their ships again.
his
own hand he
slew,
And when
once more
fight,
He turned him homeward from the Upon the drawbridge long in sight
Stood brave Guibour.
"
By
in.
And might no
But
further welcome speak. loosed his helm, and kissed his cheek, With tears of pride. From the Provencal of FREDERIC MISTRAL. Translation of HARRIET WATERS PRESTON.
LIONS.
king,
And one
FRANCE.
The nobles
filled
331
their pride,
And
And
'ni(>nj;st
one for
truly
't
whom
ing show,
Valor and
love,
beasts below.
Ramped and
ing jaws;
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paAvs; With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled
on
Till
all
ftuf
another.
in
Said
Francis
gentlemen,
we're
De
liv('l_\ (lame, AVith smiling lips and shari bi-ight eyes, which always seemed the same;
She
llioiiglit,
the (Jounl,
;
my
lover,
is
brave as
bra\'
can be
wondrous things
all
to
show his
is
332
I'll
NARRATIVE POEMS.
drop
my
great glory
will be mine.
love,
then
the
He bowed, and
lions wild;
among
re-
By Heaven,"
with
love, right in
said Francis,
rightly done
;
"
!
and
''
No
he rose from where he sat " but vanity, sets love a task love," quoth he,
like that."
LEIGH HUNT.
THE GLOVE.
(peter eonsard
loquitur.)
Strikes
him
as wonderful pleasure
I 'ra
!
he ? 'Faith, and at leisure once is be to wants he busy. Straightway Here we 've got peace and aghast
;
" Give us your speech. Master Peter I who, if mortal dare say so, Ne'er am at loss with my Naso, .
FRANCE.
"
" Sire," I replied, joys
333
:
prove cloudlets
Men
.
.
Here the King whistled aloud, " Let 's " Ileiglio go look at our lions Such are the sorrowful chances
.
If
you talk
so, to
fine to
King
Francis.
And
new
Lords, ladies, like clouds which bedizen At sunset the western horizon.
And
With
Sir
the
De Lorge dame he
!
One hy fits eyed Oh, what a face Her, and tlic iHin-ihlc pitside
;
For the penfold surrounded a hollow Wliich led where the eye scarce dared
^\nd shelved to the chand)er secluded
follow,
AVhere
brooded.
The King hailed his keeper, an Arab As glossy and black as a scarab, And 1)ade liim make sport and at once
stir
Up
and
(Hit
of his den
tjic
old monster.
in tin' wii-c-worlv
Across
llicrc ;i lircwork, one's heart's Ijeating redouljled A pause, while the jiit's mouth was troubled, Tlie blackness and silence so uller,
il,
and dnippcd
And
flrd
By lh(! lirework's slow si)arkling and Then eartli in a sudden eonlortion Gave out U) uur gaze her ahoilion
!
sputter.
334
NARRATIVE POEMS.'
!
a l)rute Were I friend Clement Marot (Whose experience of Nature 's but narrow, And whose faculties move in no small mist When he versifies David the Psalmist)
Such
llluia
One's whole blood grew curdling and creepy To see the black mane, vast and heapy,
The tail in the air stiff and straining, The wide eyes, nor waxing nor waning, As over the barrier which bounded
His platform, and us who surrounded The barrier, they reached and they rested On the space that might stand him in best stead For, who knew, he thought, what the amazement,
;
The eruption
of clatter
And if, in this minute of wonder, No outlet 'mid lightning and thunder,
Lay broad, and, his shackles all shivered, The lion at last was delivered ? Ay, that was the open sky o'erhead And you saw by the flash on his forehead, By the hope in those eyes wide and steady, He was leagues in the desert already,
!
Driving the flocks up the mountain. Or catlike couched hard by the fountain,
To waylay
So guarded he entrance or egress. " How he stands " quoth the King
!
"
;
we may
well
swear,
No novice, we 've won our spurs elsewhere, And so can afford the confession,
FRAyCE.
335
We
exercise
wholesome discretion
;
In keeping aloof from his threshold Once hold you, those jaws want no fresh hold, Their first would too pleasantly purloin
The
l)Ut
who
's
Marignam, pardie
"
!
The sentence no sooner wf>s uttered, Than over the rails a glove fluttered.
Fell close to the lion,
and rested
The dame 't was, who flung it and jested With life so, De Lorge had been wooing
For months past he sate there pursuing II is suit, weighing out with nonchalance Fine speeches like gold from a balance.
;
's
a tarrierl
Ne'er moved, kept his far-reaching eye on The palm-tree-edged desert spring's sapphire, And the nuisky oiled skin of the Kaflfir Picked it up, and as cahnly retreated,
And
Leajx'd \nu-k where the lady was seated. lull in the face of its owner
tlie
Flung
glove
"
Your
"
So should
ity,
cried
heart's queen,
the
King"
Not
humanity
iji
From such
a proved wolf
33r>
^^ARRATIYE POEMS.
so I
;
Not
for I
Amid
As
if from no pleasing experiment She rose, yet of pain not much heedful So long as the process was needful As if she had tried in a crucible, " To what " speeches like gold were reducilile,
And, finding the finest prove copper, Felt the smoke in her face was but proper; To know what she had not to trust to. Was worth all the ashes, and dust too. She Avent out 'n\id hooting and laughter Clement ]\Iarot stayed I followed after, And asked, as a grace, what it all meant
;
;
If she
For
"so
Human
"
it
"
!
She told me, " Too long had I heard Of the deed proved alone by the word For my love what I)e Lorge would not dare With my scorn what De Lorge could compare!
:
And the endless descriptions of death He would brave when my lip formed a
I
breath,
must reckon as braved, or, of course. Doubt his word and moreover, perforce, For such gifts as no lady could spurn. Must ofi'er my love in return.
When
looked on your
lion, it
brought
thought,
my
FRANCE.
From the poor slave wliose club or bare hands Dug the trap, set tlie snare on the sands, With no King and no Court to applaud. By no shame, should he shrink, overawed,
Yet to capture the creature made shift. That his rude boys might laugh at tlie gift,
337
To
the page
who
pit, on no greater pretence Than to get back the bonne't he dropped. Lest his pay for a week should be stopped
Of the
So, wiser
judged
'
it
to
make
One
trial
what death
for
my
sake
'
Really meant, while the power was j^et mine, Tluiii to Avait until time should define
Such
Who
The
a phrase not so simply as I, took it to niean just ' to die.' blow a glove gives is but weak
Does the mark yet discolor But when the heart suffers
my
cheek
a blow,
know ? "
I looked, as
And saw
As
No
And
(I
yet, had our brute been Ncmean judge l)y a certain calm fervor
He
If
Tlie
to serve lier)
scarce thought
"
you did
turn
you
VII
earn
wliispered, "
!
Friend,
what you'd
22
338
NARRATIVE POEMS.
shortly after, she carried
And when,
Her shame from the Court, and they married, To that marriage some liappiness, maugre The voice of the court,I dared augur.
For De Lorge, he made women with men vie, Those in wonder and praise, these in envy And in short stood so plain a head taller How do you call her ? That he wooed and won*
;
.
.
The beauty, that rose in the sequel To the King's love, wlio loved her a
week well ;
And 't was noticed he never would honor De Lorge (who looked daggers upon her)
With
the easy commission of stretching His legs in the service, and fetching His wife, from her chamber, those straying
Sad gloves she was always mislaying. While the King took the closet to chat in But of course this adventure came pat in
And
never the King told the story. How bringing a glove brought such glory. But the wife smiled " His nerves are
firmer
grown
"
morbo
I
drop
my
theorbo.
BOBEKT BROWNING.
FRAXCE.
339
LOUIS XV.
The King with all liis kingly train Had left his Pompadour behind, And forth he rode in Senart's wood
The
That day
royal beasts of chase to find. l)y chance the Alonareh mused,
lay.
He saw the pale green shadows jilay Upon the brown untrodden earth He saw the birds around him flit As if he were of peasant birth He saw the trees that know no king
; ;
But
He
hiiu wlio bears a woodland axe; thought not, but he looked about Like one who skill in thinking lacks.
close to
Then
him
a footstep
fell,
And
glad of human sound was he, For truth to say he found himself
weiglit from
wliii
li
lie
fain
would
flee.
But that which he would ne'er have guessed Before him now mf)st i^lainly came The man upon his weary back
;
"
Why, who
"And wliat is (liat see thee bear "T am a lal)oi-cr in tbe wood, And 't is a coffin for Pierre.
?"
340
NARRATIVE POEMS.
;
And
The
I for
laborer ne'er
this
And
Who
And
"I
made at first a moment's anew his talk began think I do remember now,
then
ply.
He had a dark and glancing eye, And I have seen his slender arm With wondrous blows the pick-axe
"
Pray
!
tell
"
Who
short,
on,
you know, a
common
is
Our
children's bread
thing eaten up
By
Courtiers, Mistresses,
And
Then spurred to ask of Pompadour, How came it that the peasants died.
JOHN STERLING.
FRANCE.
nERV:fi KIEL.
341
Ox
nhiety-two,
Did
tlie
woe to France
And
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the
IJance,
With
and foremost
;
Damfreville
Close;
on him
fled, gi'cat
and small,
;
Twenty-two good
ships in all
And
"
!
Thru
"
the
))iIots
of
the i)lacc
;
]tiit
out
biisk,
and
lik
IcajX'd
on lioard
ho]ie
"'
Why, what
tlieso to
or
clianci!
have
sliijts
pass?
lauglird (licy:
l(
Kocks
Shall
to stai-board, i-ocks
scaiTi'fl
till'
passage
and
scorc(l.
{''ofuiidable,'
ciglity guns,
342
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 't is ticklish for a craft of
And
at full beside ?
Now
is
Reach the mooring ? Rather say, While rock stands, or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay "
!
Then was
Here
's
"
them take
All that
's
tow
fleet,
left
us of the
;
and bow
For a prize
to
Plymouth Sound
!
Better run the ships aground " (Ended Damfreville his speech.)
"
Not
a minute more to wait Let the captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach
! ! !
France must undergo her fate " " Give the word " But no such word Was ever spoke or heard For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid
! :
all these,
a mate,
first,
second,
No
such
man
of mark,
and meet
!
With
his betters to
compete
sailor,
pressed by Tour-
the
fleet,
FRANCE.
34:">
Herve
Riel, the
Croi-
or malice have
we here?"
Herve
Riel.
?
me, who
On my
swell,
Is
it
love the
Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of
dor.
Soli-
Burn the
fleet,
That were
i
worse than fifty Hogues Sirs, then know I s])eak the truth!
lieve
Sirsj be-
me, there
's
way
Only
let
mc
'
Formidable
clear,
And
li;id
least,
by a passage
know
Right
to Solidorpast Greve,
And And if
there lay
them
safe
and sound;
ground,
Keel so much us
one
sliip misbt;liavc,
grati; (he
344
NARRATIVE POEMS.
I've
Why,
Not
life
here's
my
head
"
!
a minute more to wait. " Steer us in, then, small and great Take the helm, lead the line, save the squad!
ron
"
!
He
Still
is
admiral, in brief.
the nortli wind, by God's grace. See the noble fellow's face. As the big ship, with a l^ound,
profound
How
Not
And,
jVist
Anchor
"
!
sure as
fate.
Up
too late
;
They
wave
;
On
Hearts that bl(>d are stanched with balm. " Just our rupture to enhance. Let the English rake the bay. Gnash their teoth, and glare askance
'Neiitli
on her
Kance!"
How
tenance
"
Out burst
This
all
is
Let France,
Thank
the
man
!
"
!
What
one word,
As he
Not
symptom
of surprise
man
as before.
Tlien said Damfi-eville, " My friend, I must si)eak out at the end, Though I find the speaking hard ;
Praise
is
li])s
Faitli,
Demand
Ask
to
content,
and have! ov
my
beam
of fun outltroke
On
the bearded
mouth
tliat s))oke.
lau,L;bi<l
As
tlirough
:
Tbose frank eyes of lircton bbic " Since I needs must say my .say. Since on board the duty's done,
346
NARRATIVE POEMS.
to Croisic Point,
what
is it
may
Come
A good whole holiday Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the " Belle Aurore That he asked, and that he got,nothing more.
!
!
Name and
Not
it befell
Not
On
In
memory
All that
whom
had gone to
wrack
France saved from the England bore the bell. Paris rank on rank
;
fight
whence
Go
to
Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank
;
You
shall
look
Riel.
Herv6
So, for better
and
Herv6
In
Riel, accept
my
verse
do thou once more Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore
my
verse,
Herv6
Riel,
ROBERT UROWNING.
FRANCE.
347
LOVE contemplating
apart
!
From all his homicidal glory The traits that soften to our heart
Napoleon's glory
'T was
They
suffered
him
know
not
how
;
And
On
England's home.
!
pursued the
flight
Of
Ijirds to
With
Dear
Dover.
A
If
Than
stormy midnight watch, he thought, this sojourn would have been dearer, Ijut the storm his vessel brought
To England At
last, wlicii
nearer.
He
An
He
saw, one morning, dreaming, doting, em])ty hogshead from the deep
CoiUL*
shoreward
lloatiiig;
hid
it in
The
348
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Until he launched a tiny boat
By mighty
Heaven help us
working.
!
't
was
Description wretched
Or crossed
a ferry.
For, plougliing in the salt-sea field. It would have made the boldest shudder
Avoods he interlaced His sorry skilt" with wattled willows And thus equipped he would have passed
;
From neighboring
The foaming
billows,
But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, His little Argo sorely jeering Till tidings of him chanced to reach
;
^iSI^apoleon's
hearing.
With
twigs and staves so rudely fashioned, with some sweet British lass heart TJiy ]\Iust be impassioned."
" I have " But
On
had
FRANCE.
'
3-19
And
"
Ye
A noble
He
He
And, with a
commanded
And
Our But
safely landed.
To
find a dinner, plain and hearty. 7ieve7' changed the coin and gift
Of Bonaparte.
TUOJIAS CAMPBELL.
now
I
I
TIIEV
FKO.AI
"
SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris and he galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; " cried the watch as the gatel)olts (iood speed
!
!
undrew, " echoed tlir wall to us gall(iiiig tliiough. Speed Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest;
"
And
we galloped
abreast.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace, Neck by neck, sti'ide by sti-ide, never ehaiiging our
])laee
I
;
turned
in
my
saddle ami
caeli
made
and
Then shortened
Nor galloped
st iirii|i
slacker the
bit,
less steadily
Koland
a whit.
350
NARRATIVE POEMS.
;
near
crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom a great yellow star came out to see; At Diiffeld 't was morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln churcli-steeple we heard the
Lokererijtlie cocks
half -chime,
So Joris broke
is
time "
!
At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun, against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare through the mist at us galloping past; And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last. With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some blulf river headland its spray;
And
And
his low
head and
crest, just
bent back
For my
voice,
track ;
one eye's black intelligence, ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance
;
And
And
His
anon
fierce lips
By
spur
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault 's not in her We '11 remember at Aix,"- for one heard the quick
wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees.
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank. As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
FRAXCE.
351
So we were left galloping, Joris and I, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh 'Xeath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like
;
;
chaff
Till over And "
by Dalheui a dome-spire sprang white, " for Aix is in sight Gallop," gasped Joris,
'11
".
"
How
they roan
greet us
"
!
and
all in
moment
;
his
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone And there was my Koland to bear the whole weight
With
And
Then
his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
I cast loose.
off
Shook
Called
both
holster let
belt
fall,
and
all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, joattod his ear, my Roland his pet name, my horse without
peer,
Clapped
my
And As I
all
remember
sate
my
knees on the
groiiiid
this
(nir
Wiiich (the burgesses voterl by common consent) Was no inorc llian his dnc who brought good news from (jihent. KOhEKT IJKOWNINO
352
NARRATIVE POEMS.
MORT
So
all
D'ARTIIUR.
Among
Until King Arthur's Table, man by man, Had fallen in Lyoness about their lord,
Kins: Arthur
:
wound was
deep,
The bold
Sir Bedivere uplifted him, Sir Bedivere, the last of all his Knights,
And l)ore him to a chapel nigli the field, A broken chancel with a broken cross,
That stood on
a dark strait of barren land.
On one
Lay
and on one
moon was
full.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Tjcdivere "The sequel of to-day unsolders all The goodliest fellowship of famous knights Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep They sleep the men I loved. I think that we
:
Shall nevermore, at any future time. Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds. about the gardens and the halls
Walking Of Camelot, as in the days that were. I perish by this people which I made, come again Thougli Mei'lin swarc that I should To rule once more but let what will be, l)e. I am so deeply smitten through the helm
cannot last
till
morn.
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,, Which was my pride: for tliou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
DRITATN.
rjnso
353
And, wheresoever
am sung
or told
:
In after-time, this also shall l)e known I5ut now delay not: take Excalibur,
not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus. Aidless, alone, and smitten through the helm.
little
Yet
thing may li;inn a woinidcd man; thy hest will all i>erform at full,
I see,
Watch what
So saying, from the ruined shrine he stei)t in tlie moon athwart the place of tond)S, Wliere lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over tlicni the sea-wind sang Hakes of foam, Slirill, cliill, with lie, stei)ping
And
(low n
Came on
There drew
tlu;
il,
And
And
o'er
him, diawing
forth/
:
keen
willi
l'"or ;ill
the
li;if|,
twinkled with
studs,
Myriads
of toiia/.-ligbts,
and j.ieinth-Wijrk
da'/./.lc<i
()f sidttlcsl
jewelry.
That both
VII
23
as be stood,
354
NARRATIVE POEMS.
:
This way and that dividing the swift mind, In act to throw but at tlie last it seemed
Better to leave Excalibur concealed
There in the many -knotted water-flags, That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. So strode he back slow to the wounded King.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere Hast thou performed my mission which I gave ? What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? "
:
"
washing
in the reeds,
And
"
To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale Thou hast betrayed thy nature and thy name, Not rendering true answer, as beseemed
Thy
fealty,
For surer sign had followed, either hand. Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.
This
is
men
to
lie.
Yet now,
As thou
I
art lief
bade thee,
quickly go again. and dear, and do the thing watch, and lightly bring me word."
Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, Counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, How curiously and strangely chased, he smote
His palms together, and he cried aloud :r
"
And
if
indeed
I cast
BRITAIN.
W])ieli
355
Should thus be lost forever from the earth, might have pleased the eyes of many men. What good should follow this, if this were done? What harm, undone ? deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience
is
a king demand himself? unprofitable, against The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
Were An act
it
What
And
record, or
what
relic of
my
lord
Should be
to after-time, l)ut empty breath rumoi's of a doubt? but were this kept.
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, Some one might show it at a jousi of arms.
Wrought
Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, ])y the lonely maiden of the Lake.
.she
Nine years
wrought
it,
Upon
tlie
So might some old man speak in the after-time To all the p(^ople, wiiming reverence. But now nmcli honor and much fame were lost." So spake he, clouded
M'ith his
own
conceit,
And And
''
hid Excalilnir the second time, so strode back slow to the wounded King.
Thill spoke
What
is it
King Arthur, bi'eatliing heavily thou hast seen ? or what hast heard?"
:
Anil answer
made
tiu! ])ol(l
Sir rx'divere:
"T
Ami
"
To whom
All,
is
me
35(3
NARRATIVE POEM^.
bowed the
will. I see
liis eye thee what thou art,
For
In
all
my
knights.
liilt
whom
offices of all,
;
for the precious Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
fail in
may
thou spare to fling Excalibur, But, I will arise and slay thee Avitli my hands."
Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged Among the bulrush-beds, and clutched the sword. And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand
Made
And
in
an
arch.
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen wliere the movhig isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea.
But
So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Tliree times, and drew him under in the mere.
:
And
lightly
to the King.
thicker breath
"
Now
see I
:
Speak out
by thine eyes that this is done. what is it tliou hast heard, or seen
BRITAIN.
357
:
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere " Sir King, I closed mine ej'clids, lest the gem Should blind my purpose, for I never saw,
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, Not though I live three lives of mortal men,
So great a miracle as j'onder
hilt.
Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ; But when I looked again, Itehold an arm,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him Three times, and drew him under in the mere."
Arthur, breathing hard: 't time that T were gone. is end draws nigh My Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight,
"
;
And
bear
me
to the
margin
cold,
yet I fear
T shall die."
My
and
I'c
half rose.
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes As in picture. Ilim Sir IJedivere
;i
Remorsefully regarded through his tears. And would have spoken, but he found not wtrds Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee,
OY-r both his sliouM(>rs drew
tlie
th(!
languid hands.
place of toml)S.
And
rising l)ore
him through
But, as he walked. King Arthur panted li;ird. Like one that feels a nightmaic on his bed When all tli" house is nmte. So sighed Hie King,
)ni(k, quick Muttering and murmuring at his ear I fear it is too late, and I shall die." But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,
' (
!
358
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked, Larger than human on the frozen hills.
He heard
Before.
Dry
And
own thought drove him like a goad. clashed his harness in the icy caves barren chasms, and all to left and right
His
The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armM heels And on a sudden, lo the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern. Beneath them and descending they Avere ware
;
That
the decks were dense with stately forms, Black-stoled, Ijlack-hooded, like a dream, by these
all
of gold,
And, as it were one voice, an agony Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills All night in a waste land, where no one comes, Or hath come, since the making of the world.
" Place
me in the barge
"
;
the barge
they
came.
Queens
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and But she that rose the tallest of them all.
lap,
loosed
chafed his
hands,
called
him by
his
BRITAIN.
359
And And
And
was white
and
like the
withered moon
;
Smote by the
all his
;
Of onset That made his forehead like a rising snn dais- throne were parched with Iligli from the
fresh beam of the springing east greaves and cuisses dashed with drops and the light and Instrous curls
dust
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose. Mixed with the knightly growth that fringed his
lips.
So
Not
From spur
to
plume a
star of tournament,
cried the bold Sir Bedivere Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead.
:
Then loudly
!
"
Ah
my
When
And
every morning brought a noble chance. every chance brouglit out a noble kniglit. Such times have been not since the light that led
Tlic lioly Elders witli tlie gift of mynli.
'l';ililc
is
dissolved
Wliicli Wiis an image of the iiiiglity world; And I, the last, go forth com[)anionk'ss.
And
thu days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, .strangt; faces, other minds."
And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: "The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
360
NARRATIVE
P0E3IS.
And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself what comfort is in me ? I have lived my life, and that which I have done
:
May He
If
within himself make pure l)ut thou, thou shouldst never see my face again,
!
Pray
for
my
soul.
More things
of.
are
wrought by
let
prayer
Than
this
world dreams
Wherefore,
thy
voice
me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them
Rise like a fountain for
friend
?
is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou seSst, if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island- valley of Avilion Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea.
Where
I will heal
me
of
my
grievous Avound."
sail
Moved from
some
full-breasted
swan, That, fluting a wild carol ere luir deatli, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
EXGLAND.
With swarthy webs.
Long stood
till
361
Sir Bedivere
devolving many memories, Looked one black dot against the verge of daAvn, And on the mere the wailing died away. ALFKED, LOKU TEXNYSON.
the hull
GODIVA.
T toaited for the train at Coventry ; I huncf vnth grooms and j^orters on
To watch the three tall spires : and The citi/s ancient legend into this :
the hridge,
there
I sliaped
New
men, that in the flying of a wheel down the past not only we, that prate Cry Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well, And loathed to see them overtaxed ; but she
;
The woman
Godiva, wife to that grim Earl who ruled In Coventry for when he laid a tax
Upon
Their
his town,
(
and
all
hildrcn, clamoring,
"
!
lord, iind
found
Iiini,
where he
A])out
th(! hall,
among
yard Ix-hind.
liim,
She told
'
tears.
And prayrd
" ^'oll
IT
WIhtimI he stilled, rei)lyiiig, halt' aiiia/.ed, would lint let youi- little tini^ci' ;iclie For such as thrse/''' " jJut I would die," said
she.
302
lie laughed,
NARRATIVE
POEMSi.
:
Then
"
and swore by Peter and by Paul filliped at the diamond in her ear
;
Alas she said, you talk " But I me what it would is not do." prove And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand, He answered, " Ride you naked through the town, And I repeal it " and nodding, as in scorn.
O, ay, a3% ay,
! !
"
"
"
He
parted, with great strides among his dogs. So left alone, the passions of her mind. As winds from all the compass shift and blow, Made war upon each other for an hour.
won. She sent a herald forth. bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all The hard condition but that she would loose
Till pity
And
The people
From
therefore, as they loved her well. then till noon no foot should pace the street.
:
No
eye look down, she passing but that all Should keep within, door shut and window barred. Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt.
; ;
Earl's gift but ever at a breath She lingered, looking like a summer moon Half dipt in cloud anon she shook her head. And showered the rippled ringlets to her knee Unclad herself in haste adown the stair Stole on and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid From pillar unto pillar, until she reached
:
The grim
Tiie
gateway
In purple blazoned with armorial gold. Then she rode forth, clothed on ^yitll chastity The deep air listened round her as she rode.
And
The
all
little
the low wind hardly breathed for fear. wide-mouthed heads upon the spout
].Ai)\
(;(
)i)i\A
EXGLAND.
Had cunning eyes to see the barking cur Made her cheek flauic her palfrey's footfall
:
: :
363
shot
Light hon-ors through her pulses the blind walls "Were full of chinks and holes and overhead
;
but she Fantastic gables, crowding, stared Kot less through all bore up, till, last, she saw
:
The white-flowered elder-thicket from the field Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall. Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity:
And
The
fatal
one low churl, compact of thankless earth, byword of all years to come,
Boring a little auger hole in fear, Peeped but his eyes, before they had their will, Were shrivelled into darkness in his head, And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused And she, that knew not, passed and all at once, With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers^ One after one but even then she gained Her bower whence reissumg, robed and crowned, To meet lier lord, she took the tax away, And built herself an everlasting name. ALFKKJ), T-OKD TEXNYSON.
THE
Whan
And
CANTEIJIirijy PIUiKniS.
I
I'KOLOGUE."
^
shoures soote
-
The droghte
batlii^d
of Mart h haiii
|K.M-c(>d
to the roote,
licour,
every veyne
in swicli
'
sweet.
such.
3G^
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Of which
Whan
vertiie engeudred is the dour; Zephirus eek with hijp swete breeth ^ Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the vonge sonne Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronue,
foweles makeu melodve That slepen al the nAght with open eye, So priketh hem nature in hir corages,^ Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And smale
And
And
palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, ^ in sondry londes; specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Cannterbiiry they wende The hooly blisfnl martir^ for to seke, That hem hath hoi pen whan that they were
that seson on a day, In Sonthwerk at the Tabard as I lay,
Bifil that, in
seeke.
Eedy to wenden on my i>ilgrymage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght were come into that hostelrj^e Wei nyne-and-twenty in a compaign^-e, Of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were thei alle,
That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.
A
That
Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, fro the tyme that he first bigan
out. he loved chivalrie.
To riden
Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie, Ful Avorthj^ was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, noman ferre,^ As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,
*
wood. renowned.
their hearts;.
ancient saints.
farther.
"
Thomas-a-Becket.
EXGLAKD.
And
'.
365
'?ot
--?
And thougli that he were worthy, he was And of his port as lueeke as is a inayde. He nevere vet no vilevnye lie savde
^
wj'S,
lie
was a verray
With hym ther was his sone, a young Squier, A lovvere and a lustv bacheler,
\\'ilh
Of twenty veer
Df
liis
was
T gesse.
stature he
was
And
lie hadde hen sonitynie in chyyachie,"* In Fhiundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie, And born hym week as of so litel space,
Emhrouded
A
I
fill
<f
fressh^ floures
wnjs,
oi-
whyte and
:'l
reede.
Syngynge he
Tie
floytynge,''
IIk*
day;
was as fres'sh as is the nionthe of ^May. Sliort was his gowne, Avith sleyes longe and wyde. "W'cl cowde he silte on hois, and faii-e ryde. He UondA songvs make and wel endite. " Juste and eek dauhce. and weel ]>iirtreye and
yvrile.
So hootc he
nyghterlale
sleep no more than doolh a n.\ghlyngale; ('ujtcis he was, loyely and seryysahle,
He
.\nd carf^'
'
l)if<Mri
milling unmannerly.
<Mnbiii(lorr<I.
i-uilcl.
ii
" iictivo.
niilil.iry cxpi'iIitioQ.
<>ii
'
"
iil;i\in)r
"
fluti;.
portriiv draw.
niirht-time.
'carved.
366
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy; Hire gretteste ooth ne was but by seint Loy ^ And she was cleped madame Eglentyne.
;
Fill
weel she soonge the service dyvyne, Entiined in hir nose ful semeely;
And Frenssh
she spak ful faire and fetisly,^ After the scole of Stratford-atte-Bowe, For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe.
wel ytaught was she with alle, She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wett hire fyngres in hire sauce deepe. Wel koude she carie a morsel and wel kepe, That no drope ne fille upon hire breste In curteisie was set ful muchel hir leste.^ Hire over-lippe wyped she so clene, That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng^ sene Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. Ful semely after hir mete she raughte,^
;
At mete
And sikerly she was of greet disport, And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port, And peyned hir ^ to countrefete cheere
'^
Of Court, and
And
But She was so charitable and so pitous. She wolde wepe if that she saugh a mous
Kuuglit in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde
With rosted flessh, or mylk and wastel-breed ^ But soore wepte she if any of hem were deed,
;
probably
pleasure.
surely.
St. Louis.
'
feat ly neatly.
' '
meat table.
reached.
*
^
* *
morsel.
took pains.
"
ENGLAND.
Or
if iiiou
3G7
^
smoot
it
with a yerde
smerte:
herte.
And
al
semley hire wympul i>ynched Avas; Ilir nose ti'etys,^ hire eyen greye as glas,
Fill
Hir month fnl smal, and ther to softe and But sikerly she hadde a fair forlieed
;
reed,
It Avas
trowe,
For hardily she was nat uudergrowe. Fnl fetys was hir cloke, as I was war; Of smal coral aboute hire arm she bar
al with greue; peire of bed^s gauded And ther-on heng a broch of gold fnl schene,
x\.
'
Another Nonne with hire hadde she. That was hire Chapeleyne, and Preestes
A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also That nn-to logyk hadde longe ygo.
he was nat right fat, I undertake, r>ut looked holwe, and ther to sol)rely; Full thredbare was his overeste courtepy,^
And And
locn6
was
his hors as
is
a rake,
For he hadde geten hyni yet no benefice, Xc was so worldly to have office; I'or liym was levere have at his beddes heed
Twenty bookrs,
Of
Ai-istolle
and
Than
gay sautrie.^
Tint al
be that ho
was
litel
a ])hilosopln'e,
gohl in cofre;
The
(;/fl/e.? * flddlo.
rod.
straight.
'
were
tlie Inrprer
beads.
psiiltery.
368
NARRATIVE
al that
POEMfi.
i
But
Of hem that gaf him wher with to scoleye,2 Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede, Noght o word spak he moore than was neede, And that was sevd in forme and reverence And short and qujk and ful of hy sentence. Sownynge in ^ moral vertu was his speche And gladly wokle he lerne, and gladly teche.
Sergeant of the Lawe, war ^ and wys, That often hadde ben at the Parvys,^
He semed
Justice he
was and
was
patente, and by pleyn commissioun, For his science and for his heigh renoun.
By
Of fees and robes hadde he many oon So gret a purchasour ^ was nowher noon. Al vras fee symple to hym in effect, His purchasyng myghte nat ben infect.'^
;
Nowhere
so bisy a
man
as he ther nas,^
And
And good man was ther of religioun, And was Povre Persoun ^ of a Toun
;
But
He
* '
''
riche he Avas of hooly thoght and werk; was also a lerned man, a clerk
' *
got.
study.
tending towards.
portico of St. Paul's, \vliere lawyers met. prosecutor.
lie
waiy prudent.
tainted.
" *
'
was was
not.
"
Poor parson.
ENGLAND.
That Cristas Gospel trewely wolde preche, Hise iarisshens devoutly Avolde he teche.
Jien.v<iue
3G9
And And
fill pacient he was y-preved ofte sithes.^ such Ful looth were hym to curse for his tythes, But rather wolde he geven,^ out of doute,
in adversitee
Unto
Of
his olfryng and eek of his substaunce. He koude in litel thyng have suftisannce.
Wyd was
lint he ne laf te
his parisshe, and houses fer a-sonder. ^ nat for reyn ne thonder,
in his parisshe
The ferreste^
Up-on
his feet,
and
in his
lite ^
This noble ensample to his sheepe he gaf,'' That firste he wroghte, and afterward he taughte.
l)ettre preest, I
He Xe
He
waiteth after
niake<l
is
it
hym
selve.
toold y<u sliorlly in a clause The staat, tharray, the nombic, and eek Die cause Why that assend)led was this compaignye
I
Now
have
In Southw(>rk at
Tiiat
liiglitc
is
But MOW
IIiiw that
^^'ll('Il
I
\\i'
were
"
limits.
Kivc.
siii.ill.
'censed.
faitlicst
Kreat anil
gave.
same.
V 1124
370
NARRATIVE POEMS.
after wol
al
I telle
And And
of our viage,
But first, I pray yow of your curteisye, That ye narette it nat my vileinye/
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere, To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere
;
Ne thogh
For
speke hir
wordes proprely.
al so
this ye
kuowen
wel as
I,
Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, He moote reherce, as ny as evere he kan
Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche2 or large ;3
Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.
He may nat spare al thogh he were his brother, He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak hym self ful brode in hooly writ And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. Eek Plato seith, who so can hym rede,
"
to the dede."
Also prey yow to forgeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree
Heere
My
short ye may wel understonde. Greet chiere made oure host us everichon.
wit
And to the soper sette he us anon And served us with vitaille at the beste. us leste.^ gitrong was the wyn and wel to drynke withalle he was A semely man Oure Hoost
For
to
in
an halle;
large
1
man
that ye ascribe
free.
not to
*
my
ill-breeding.
*
'
rudely.
pleased.
germane.
EXGLAKD. A
371
fairer burgeys was tlier noon in Chepe: Boold of his speche, and wys and wel ytauglit, And of nianhod hym lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a myrie ^ man, And after soper pleyen he bygan,
And spak
of
Whan
And
that
" Lo, lordynges, trewely seyde thus Ye ben to me right welcome hertely
For by my trouthe,
that
Atones in this herberwe ^ as is now. ^ Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste
how.
myrthe I am right now bythoght. To doon you ese, and it shal coste noght. Ye goon to Caunterbury, God you speede, The blisful martir quit^ yow youre meede ^ And wel I woot as ye goon by the weye Ye shapen yow ^ to talen and to pleye; For trewdly confort ne myrthe is noon
And
of a
'^
To
ride by the
And As I
therefore wol
weye doumb as the stoon; T maken you disi)ort, sevde erst, and doon vou som confort.
to shorte
To (,'aunterburyward,
mean
it
so,
And homward
And which
That
yow
that bereth
i<'ll<'lli
hym
*
best of alle,
is
to seyn, that
'
in this
caas
merry.
*
liiirborapo inn.
tell tales.
make.
'
reward.
purpo.se.
two.
872
NARRATIVE
^
POEMfi.
Tales of best sentence and most solaas,^ Shall have soper at oure aller cost,
Heere
bj this post,
Whan
And
I
that
for to
wol my-selfe gladly with yow ryde, myn owene cost, and be youre gyde. And who so wole my juggement withseye ^ Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. And if ye voiiche-sanf that it be so, Tel me anon, with-outen wordes mo. And I wol erly shape ^ me therfore." This thyng was graunted, and oure othes swore
Right at
With
ful glad herte, and preyden hym also That he would vouche-sauf for to do so, And that he wolde been our governour, And of oure tales juge and reportour,
And sette a soper at a certeyn pris And we wol reuled been ^ at his devys
We
In heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent been acorded to his juggement.
We
ther-up-on the wyn was fet anon dronken and to reste wente echon With-outen any lenger tary^nge. GEOFFREY CHAUCER.
;
And
sense.
^
'
solace
shape
my
affairs
mirth. prepare.
'
gainsay.
be ruled.
ENGLAXD,
373
LORD LOVEL.
Lord Lovel he stood at his
castle gate,
Belle,
Where are
'*
yoii going.
Lord Lovel
'
she said,
Oh
"
I'm going, my Lady Nancy Ielle, Strange countries for to see, to see,
"When
will
'II
rctuiii
let
to
my
iii.\
I'll
urn to
iiol
But
111'
li.id
When
lanuuisliing thoughts
i'.cllc
B<'lle
liis milk-white steed, he came to L(n<lon town, llicrr he lic;iri| SI. I'nmias' Ik'IIs,
till'
Ami And
people
;i!l ;ill
iiinMriiiiig.
i
rouml. round,
the peopN'
374
''
NARRATIVE POEMS.
is
Oh, what
"Oh! what
"
A
"
lord's lad}' is dead," a woman replied, And some call her Lady Nancy-cy, And some call her Lady Nancy."
So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud lie turned down,
And
came came
she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras' church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And And
steeple
then they cOuld grow no higher: So there they entwined in a true lover's knot,
And
For For
ANONYMOUS.
EXGLAXD.
375
That
lived in Nottinghamshire.
As Kobin Uood
in the forest stood, All under the greenwood tree, There he was aware of a brave young
man,
As
fine as fine
might
be,
scarlet-red,
it
roundelay.
scarlet he
was dean
away;
And
And
Which made the young man bend Whenas he see them come.
his bow,
376
"
NARRATIVE
off
!
P0EM1<!.
Stand
stand
off
"
!
the young
man
said,
your will with " You must come before our master straight, Under yon greenwood tree.''
is
"What
me?"
And when
he came bold Robin before, Robin asked him courteously, " O, hast thou any money to spare, For m A' merry men and me ? "
" I have
"
no money," the young man said, and a ring; And that I have kept these seven long years. To have at mv wedding.
But
five shillings
"Yesterday-
But
she
was from me
And
"What
"
thy
tell
"
my
My name
it is
Allan-a-Dale."
"What
" Tn
Robin Hood,
To
liel])
And
" I "
No
ready gold or
fee.
Ey GLAND.
But
I
377
will
Thy
"How many
"
miles
is it
to thy true-love?
said the
young
but
plain,
He
his wedding.
"What
" " I
I
prithee
now
tell
unto me."
am a bold harper," quoth Robin Hood, "And the best in the north country."
"
O, welcome, O, welcome," the bislio]* he said, " That music best ])leasetli me."
"
You
"
sh.-ill
till'
liMvc
Till
biitlc Mild
see."
With
th;it ("inif in
Wliidi
was
botli
:i
And
;ifl('r
him
liiiikin
till'
lass,
l)iil
sliiiii'
like
glistei-jng gobl.
"This is not fit match," quoth H()l)in Hood, "That yoM do sicni to iiiMki- iiere;
;i
378
NARRATIVE POEMS.
For since we are come into the church, The bride shall chuse her own dear."
Then Robin Hood put his horn to And blew blasts two and three;
his
mouth,
bold
they came into the churchyard. Marching all in a row, The very first man was Allan-a-Dale,
To
Robin he
said,
Young Allan, as I hear say; And you shall be married at this same time,
Before we depart away."
" That shall not be," the bishop he cried,
''For thy word shall not stand; Thev shall be three times asked in the church, As the law is of our land."
off
Little
John;
body," then Robin said, By " This cloth doth make thee a man." the faith of
my
When
The
Little
John went
He
]eople began asked them seven times in the church Lest three times should not be enough.
to laugh;
ENGLAND.
379
"Who
And
gives
me
this
maid?"
"
And
And
merry wedding,
;
queen
ANONYMOUS.
WOMAN
IN WINDSOR FOREST.
A
Three
And
woman lay; children round her stood. there went up from the greenwood
dying
little
"O
"
leave us all alone." " babes " she tried to say, blessed My But the faint accents died away
1
And
And And
and strong
U])
slie
And
With
And, peering
wood maze
a long, sliai-p, unearthly gaze, " Will she not come?" she said.
38i>
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Just then, the parting boughs between, A little maid's light form was seen,
And, following
(A portly man
Who
Or
"
I
maiden
cried,
reached the woman's side, xVnd kissed her clay-cold cheek, have not idled in the town.
They
told
me
me there,me everywhere;
his home. bended knee come with me,
And
And when
not come.
lay,
"
I told
And
could not go in peace away AYithout the minister; I begged him, for dear Christ his sake. But O, my heart was fit to break,
stir.
So, though
my tears were blinding me, ran back, fast as fast could be,
To come again
here
And
to
met,
Who
And when
him
true,
me
fret;
ENGLAND.
"'
'
381
go with you, child/ he said, to this dying bed,' Mother, he's here, hard bv." While thus the little maiden spoke,
I will
God sends me
The man, his baek against an oak. Looked on with glistening eye.
The bridle on his neck hung free. With quivering Hank and trembling knee, Pressed close his bonny bay;
steed,
I rede,
day.
maiden spoke,
The man.
And
Something
Preached,
"All
is
vanitv."
But when th( dying woman's face Turned toward him with a wishful
where she lay; And, kneeling down, bent ovei- her,
slei)ped to
'*
gaze,
He
Saying,
am
!
a minister,
let
My
And
sister
us pray "
!
well,
withouten book
ilic
<^r
stole,
((Jod's
his soul!)
(lying ear ii(! breathed, as 't were an angel's strain. The things that unto life pertain.
Iiilo
And
382
NARRATIVE POEMS.
He
spoke of sinners' lost estate, In Christ renewed, regenerate, Of God's most blest decree, That not single soul should die
Who
"
He
Endured but
Sure, in
spoke of trouble, pain, and toil, for a little while In patience, faith, and love,
God's
own good
time, to be
He
That peaceful
And
then
it
might
Were
heard, and they knelt, every one. Close round on the green grass.
Such was the sight their wandering eyea Beheld, in heart-struck, mute surprise,
reined their coursers back. as Just they found the long astray, in the heat of chase that day. Who,
Who
their track.
pawing
steed,
was wholesome sight and good That day for mortal pride.
a
ENGLAND.
For
V\'as
.
383
that dead pauper on the ground, Her ragged orphans clinging round, Knelt their anointed king.
By
THE REVENGE.
A BALLAD OP THE FLEET.
I.
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying
from far awnj
"
:
we have
:
sighted
fifty-
" 'Fore
God
am
my
And
my men
are sick.
must
fly,
but
fol-
We
can
we
fight with
fifty-
IL
Then spake
\()U
lly
Sir
Richard Grenville
;
"I
no coward
tlif'iii
for a
moment
to
fight
But
ashore.
384
I sliould
NARRATIVE POEMS.
count myself the coward
Inquisition dogs and
if I left
them,
my
Lord Howard,
To
these
the
devildoms of
Spain."
III.
five ships of
war
But
Sir
all his
sick
men from
the land
Very
carefully
and slow,
below
aboard,
And
To
they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,
th'e
the Lord.
He had
and
And
the Spaniard
came
in sight,
With
his
huge
sea-castles
bow.
we fight or shall we fly ? Good Sir Richard, tell us now. For to fight is but to die
!
" Shall
There
'11
be
And
Sir
lish
by the time this sun be set." Richard said again; *' We be all good Engmen.
left
little of
us
BXGLAND.
the devil,
385
For
never turned
or devil yet."
hurrah, and so
The
little
the foe, "With her hundred lighters on deck, and her ninety
sick below
;
For half
left
and half
to the
were seen.
little
And
the
Revenge ran on
thi-o'
lane between.
Thousands Thousands
down from
their
little ci'aft
Running on and
By
Imndred
tons,
And
Took the
from our
and we stayed.
vii.
And
while
now
tlie
hung above us
like a cloud
Whence
tlie
thunderbolt will
From
the Spanish
fleet
that day,
VII_25
nSO
NARRATIVE POEMS.
the larboard and two upon the star.
And
them
all.
VIII.
womb
ill
And
came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand. For a dozen times they came with their pikes and
the rest they
And
we shook 'em
off as
a dog that
When
to the land.
And
the sun went down, and the stars came out far
over the
summer
sea,
'
.,,! All ~l
and
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their highbuilt galleons came. Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her
battle-thunder and flame
;
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.
For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight us no more God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before ?
EXGLAXD.
X.
387
For he
Tlio'
said "
Fight on
liis
vessel
was
all
And
it
With
But
a grisly
wound
to be drest
he had
left
the
it
sud-
And
And
himself he was
the head.
wounded again
!
in the side
and
fight
XI.
on "
!
And
And
the night went down, and the sun smiled out far o^er the summer sea,
us
round
again, for they feared could sting. So they watched what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain,
we
still
But
were
slain,
And
maimed
for life
And
And
tlie
sick
men down
cold.
in the
all broken or bent, and llie was ;ill f)f it powder spent; And the masts and the rigging were lying over the
side
But
Sir
Kichanl cried
in his
English pride,
388
NARRATIVE POEMS.
!
have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again We have won great glory, my men
!
We
And
At
a day less or
die
more
?
sea or ashore,
We
does
"
it
matter when
Gunner
sink
her, split
Spain
XII.
seamen made
We
And
We
We
And
have children, we have wives, the Lord hath spared our lives. will make the Spaniard promise,
let
if
we
yield, to
us go
and
to strike another
blow."
the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to
the foe.
XIII.
And
men
to
him
then.
Where
And
caught at last. they praised hira to his face with their courtly
fvjreign grace;
:
rose upon their decks, and he cried " I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true
But he
my
duty as a man
is
bound
to
do
ENGLAND.
With
a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die
fell
!
389
"
And
he
died.
And
they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, And had liolden the power and glory of Spain so
cheap
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few Was he devil or man ? He was devil for aught they
;
his
into the
And
And away
her o\\n
When
wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from sleep. And the water Ijegan to heave and tlie weather to
a
moan.
And And
Till
or ever that evening ended a great gale blew. a wave like the wave that is raised by an earth-
it
th(;ir sails
and their
masts
lings.
fell
And And
To
on the shot-shat-
the
little
island crags
AM'IU;i>,
'IIONNVSON.
390
NARRATIVE POEMS.
ENGLAND.
FROM "KING JOHN," ACT
V.
SC. 7.
This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make
rue,
us
If
England
SHAKESPEARE.
O,
Wha
"
I
"
saw a knight nnd a lady bright Ride up the clench at the break of day; The knight upon a coal-black steed. And the dame on one of a silver-gray.
"
And
first,
:
With many a clang of silver bell Swift as the raven's morning flight The two went scouring ower the
"
fell.
By this time they are man and wife, And standing in St. Mary's fane;
the lady in the grass green silk
And
maid you
SCOTLAXD.
" But I can
tell thee,
391
saucy wight,
shall
And
that the
runaway
prove,
love."
" Since thou say'st that, ray Lord Douglas, Good faith some clinking there will be;
Beshrew my heart but and my sword, If 1 winna turn and ride with thee
!
"
They whipped out ower the Shepherd Clench, And doun the links o' the Corsecleuch Burn; And aye the Douglas swore by his sword To win his love, or ne'er return.
"
First fight your rival. Lord Douglas, And then brag after, if you may ;
is
as brave a lord
As
"
weapon sway.
But I for ae poor siller merk, Or thirteen pennies and a bawbee, Will tak in hand to light you baith. Or beat the winner, whiche'er it be."
The Douglas turiiod him on his steed, And 1 wat a loud laughter knicli he: " Of a' the fools 1 have ever met, Man, 1 ha'e never met ane like thee.
''Art thou akin to lord or knight. Or courtly scpiirc or wanior leal?" " I am a tinkler," (Hio" the wight, " But like erouncracking unco weel."
I
392
NARRATIVE POEMS.
they came to St. Mary's kirk, The chaplain shook for very fear; And aye he kissed the cross, and said, ''What deevil has sent that Douclas here! &'
"
When
He
neither values
all
But curses
And
"
Thau
Come here, thou bland and brittle priest, And tell to me without delay Where have you hid the lord of Ross And the lady that came at the break of day."
"
knight or lady, good Lord Douglas, Have I beheld since break of morn; And I never saw the lord of Ross Since the woful day that I was born."
No
And
Where he beheld
And
'^
thou Tinkler loun? Hast thou presumed to lie on me?" "Faith that I have!" the Tinkler said, " And a right good turn I have done to thee
"
For the lord of Ross and thy own true-love, The beauteous Harriet of Thirlestane, Rade west away, ere the break of day; And you'll never see the dear maid again;
SCOTLAND.
" So
I
393
thought
it
best to bring
you here,
wrang scent, of my own accord; For had you met the Jolinstone clan, They wad ha'e made mince-meat of a
a
On
lord."
At
til is
the Douglas
was
so wroth
wist not what to say or do; Jiut he strak the Tinkler o'er the croun. Till the blood came dreeping ower his brow.
"
He
Beshrew my heart," quo' the Tinkler lad, "Thou knir'st thee most ungallantlye! If these are the manners of a lord. They are manners that winna gang doun wi'
me."
"
riold
cried,
!
" keep thy distance. Tinkler loun "That will not," the Tinkler said,
"And
"
Though doun
and
"
I
my marc
should
both
go
"I lunc armor on," ci-icd the Lord Douglas, U (Juirass and helm, as you nuiy see." The deil me care!" quo' the Tinkler lad; " shall have a skelp at them and thee."
i
1
"
You
are not horsed," quo' the Lord Douglas, lliis wea]Kn brooks."
's
" Mine
(|iio'
llic Tiiikh'i-
lad,
"And
"So Hlanl lo thy weapons, thou haughty What have taken needs must give;
I
I
304
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Thou shalt never strike a tinkler again, For the hangest day thou hast to live."
Then
Till
to
it
they
fire
fell,
snell.
the
vt^eapons flew;
But the very first shock that they met with, The Douglas his rashness 'gan to rue.
For though he had on a sark
of mail,
With a good
wore he, bonnet on his head. Yet the blood ran trickling to his knee.
steel
And
The Douglas sat upright and firm. Aye as together their horses ran; But the Tinkler laid on like the very
deil,
loun,"
Cried the poor priest with whining din; " If thou hurt the brave Lord James Douglas;
all
" 1 care
no more for Lord James Douglas Than Lord James Douglas cares for me; But I want to let his proud heart know
That a tinkler
's
man
as well as he."
So they fought on, and they fought on. Till good Lord Douglas' breath was gone; And the Tinkler bore him to the ground, With rush, with rattle, and with groan.
SCOTLAND.
"
395
proud Douglas, day should have lived to see! For sure my honor I have lost, And a leader again 1 can never be!
:
!
''
hon That
O bon
this
"
But
tell
me
of thy kith
and
kin,
And where was bred thy weapon hand? For thou art the wale of tinkler louns That ever was born in fair Scotland."
"My name
"
1
's Jock Johnstone," quo' the wight; winna keep in my name frae thee; And here, tak thou thy sword again. And better friends we two shall be."
But the Douglas swore a solemn oath. That was a debt he could never owe; He would rather die at tlie back of the dike Than owe his sword to a man so low.
"
But
if
my
banner,
And
bear
my
livery
and my name,
My
right-hand warrior thou shalt be And 1 '11 knight thee on the field of fame."
"Woe
worth thy wit, good Lord Douglas, 'd change my trade for thine; To think wiser would you be. and bcUcr Far
I
To
live a
journeyman
of mine,
"To
Or clout a goodwifcs
Upon my life, good Lord Douglas, You 'd make a noble tinkler-man!
39G
NARRATIVE POEMS.
drammock twice Snnday morn,
a day,
And yon
"
you every day you rise, you can act the hero's part; Therefore, I pray you, think of this.
Till
I '11
And
lay
it
seriously to heart."
The Douglas writhed beneath the lash. Answering Avith an inward curse, Like salmon wriggling on a spear. That makes his deadly wound the worse.
But up there came two squires renowned; In search of Lord Douglas they came; And when they saw their master down, Their spirits mounted in a flame.
And
they flew upon the Tinkler wight, Like perfect tigers on their prey: But the Tinkler heaved his trusty sword.
Come one to one, ye coward knaves, Come hand to hand, and steed to steed;
would that ye were better men, work indeed!" For this is glorious ??
Had both the squires upon the sward, And their horses galloping o'er the
lea.
SCOTLAND.
The Tinkler
tied them neck and heel, uiauv a biting jest gave he: O fie, for shame! " said the Tinkler lad; " Siccan fighters I never did see "
307
And
**
He
slit
feels!
O,
And
Till the
he skelpit the squires with that good tawse, blood ran off at baith their heels.
to laugh
down
"
think the deevil be come here In the likeness of a tinkler man! "
to
Then he has
And he raised him kindly by the hand, And set him on his gallant steed, And bore him away to Ilenderland
:
*'
Be not cast down, my Lord Douglas, Nor writhe beneath a Itroken bane;
incud (he part,
And
''
j'our honor
'T is true,
I
Jock Johnstone
is
my name;
'm a right good tinkler, as you see; For I can crack a castiue betimes, Or clou one, as my need may be.
I
"Jock .Johnstone
For
I
is
my name,
't
is ti-ue,
me;
as thee.'*
llic
loid of
Annandale,
;is
nai'II
And
S9S
NARRATIVE POEMS.
:
Then Douglas strained the hero's hand, And took from it his sword again
" Since thou art the lord of Annandale, Thou hast eased my heart of meikle pain.
might have known thy noble form In that disguise thou 'rt pleased to wear; All Scotland knows thy matchless arm,
" I
And England by
experience dear.
"We
have been foes as well as friends, jealous of each other's sway; But little can I comprehend Thy motive for these pranks to-day."
And
"
Sooth,
'T
my
I
good
was
that stole
And gave her to the lord of Ross An hour before the break of day
" For the lord of Ross
is
my
brother,
By
all I
And
"
To guard him
But
T
my
ain countrye.
thought meet to stay behind, try ycmr lordship to waylay. Resolved to breed some noble sport,
And
By
"Judging it better some lives to spare, Which fancy takes me now and then, And settle our quarrel hand to hand, Than each with our ten thousand men.
8C0TLAXD.
" God send you soou,
399
Douglas,
I
my Lord
To i>order fora^' sound and liaill But never strike a tinkler again,
If he be a
Johnstone of Anuandale."
JAMES HOGG.
Cries,
And
To row us
"
Now who
This dark and stormy Avater?" " O, I 'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And
"
this
Lord
Ullin's daughter.
And
men
Three days we 've fled together, For should he find us in the glen. to'
My
ride;
Should they our steps discover. Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lovQr?"
hai-dy
diief,
my
It
is
But
400
"
NARRATIVE POEMS.
And by my word
I
tlie
bonny bird
:
In danger shall not tarry So, though the waves are raging white,
I
'11
row you
By
this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking;
in the scowl of
And
Grew dark
But
still
And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode arjned men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
"
O, haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, "Though tempests round us gather;
'11
stormy land,
A stormy
human hand,
o'er her.
And
still they rowed amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing: Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismayed, through storm and shade. His child he did discover: One lovely hand she stretched for aid, And one was round her lover.
SCOTLAND.
"
401
water:
cliief,
And
I '11
]My daughter
'T
()
my
dau<;hterl"
loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing; The waters wild went o'er his child,
was vain;
the
And
he
was
left
lamenting.
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
"<!
FROM
"
VI.
Not
far advanced
When
To Surrey's camp
He had safe-conduct for his baud, Benealli lln' royal seal and hand,
a guide: The ancient Karl, with stately grace. Would Clara on lier ]aH'rey place,
An<l whispered in an undertone,
"Let llic hawk stooj), his prey is Mown." The trjiiii Irom out the castle drew,
Hut
.M.iniiioii
soiiicthiiig
might
il;iiii,"
he said,
i-cspect to
iiy
stranger guest.
your king's behest, \y\\\\c in Tantallon's towers I stayed, |*:irt we in friendship from your land.
Sent hither
And, noble
VII
'J<;
i:arl.
receive
my
hand."
402
NARRATIVE POEMS.
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms and thus he spoke: " My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My
castles are
And
like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire. And " This to me! " he said, " An 't were not for thy hoary beard,
To
And,
tell thee,
haughty Peer,
He who
May well, proud xVngus, be thy mate: And, Douglas, more 1 tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride, Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, And
I
(Nay never look upon your lord, lay your hands upon your sword,)
tell thee,
if
!
thou 'rt defied thou said'st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here. Lowland or Highland, far or near. Lord Angus, thou hast lied " On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
And
^^COTLAND.
403
O'ercarae the ashen hue of age: Fierce he broke forth,*' And dar'st thou then
And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? No, by ^t. liride of Bothwell, no! Up drawbridge, grooms, what, Warder, ho! Let the poiUullis fall." Lord Marinion turned, well was his need!
And dashed the rowels in his steed; Like an arrow through the archwa3' sprung; The ponderous grate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room. The bars descending razed his plume.
steed along the drawbridge Just as it trembled on the rise;
The
Not
flies,
lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim; And when Lord Marniion roached his band.
He halts, and turns with clenched hand, And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
"
Horse horse
!
"
!
the
"
1
)(>nglas cried,
"
his fury's pace: royal messenger he came. Though most unworthy of the name.
Siiint Mary, mend my liery mood! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, thought to slay him where he stood. 'T is pity of him too," he cried;
I
404
NARRATIVE POEMS.
"Bold can be speak, and
I
warrant
With
this his
mandate he
recalls,
And
WALTER
SCOTT.
V.
To match me with
Twice have
I
I
this
tried
when I come again, come with banner, brand, and bow, As leader seeks his moi^tal foe. For lovelorn swain, in lady's bower.
In ])eace; but
He whistled Have, then, thy wish And he was answered from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew.
''
!
shrill,
From
Instant, through copse and heath, arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows; On right, on left, above, below,
Sprung
From
The bracken bush sends forth the dart, The rushes and the willow-wand Are bristling into axe and brand. And every tuft of broom gives life
SCOTLAND.
To plaided warrior
ariiioil
405
for strife.
That \Aliistle garrisoued the gh'U At oiicc w itli full live Limdrod meu, As it lie vawiiiiiy; hill to heaven
I
will,
All silent there they stood, and still. Like the loose crags whose threatening Lay tottering o'er the hollow i)ass,
mass
As
an infant's touch could urge Their headlong passage down the verge,
if
thing,
huny,-.
of pride
Along lienledi's living side, Then tixed his eye and sable brow
Full on Fit/>-James: "How say'st thou now? These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
And, Saxon, I
am
Kodei-ick
Dhu!"
Fif /--.lames
The
(o liis heart with smhleu start, He manned himself with dauntless air,
was brave;
though
life-blood thrilled
Keturned the Cliief his haughty stare, His back against a rock he bore.
And
"Come
(irmly i)laced liis foot before: nue, come all! this rock shall
liiiii
fly
T'^'om its
base as soon as
1."
Aim! the stern jov which warriors II foeineii \\(irti!\ of their steel.
I
400
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Short space lie stood, then waved his hand: Down sunk the disappearing band;
Each warrior vanished where he stood, In broom or bracken, heath or wood: Sunk brand and spear, and bended bow, In osiers pale and coi)ses low
:
seemed as if their mother Earth ITad swallowed up her warlike birth. The wind's last breath had tossed in air Pennon and plaid and plumage fair,
It
hillside.
last glance was glinted back. spear and glaive, from targe and jack, The next, all unreflected, shone
From
On bracken
green,
stone.
Thou art my guest -I pledged my word As far as Coilantogle ford: Nor would I call a clansman's brand For aid against one valiant hand,
;
Fitz-James looked round, yet scarce believed The witness that his sight received; Such apparition well might seem Delusion of a dreadful dream. Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed, And to his look the Chief replied " Fear naught nay, that I need not say But doubt not aught from mine arraj'.
Though on our strife lay every vale Rent by the Saxon from the Gael. I only meant So move we on To sliow the.i'eed on which you leant,
;
SCOT LAND.
Deeming this path you might pursue Without a pass from Koderick Dhu." They moved; I said Fitz-James was brave,
407
As
Yet dare not say that now his blood Kept on its wont and tempered flood,
As, following lioderick's stride, he drew
With lances, that, to take his life, Waited but signal from a guide, So late dishonored and defied.
Ever, by stealth, his eye sought round The vanished guardians of the ground, And still, from copse and heather deep, Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep,
And
The signal whistle heard again. Nor breathed he free till far behind The pass was left; for then they wind Along a wide and level green, ^Vhere neither tree nor tuft was seen, Nor rush nor bush of broom was near.
To hide a bonnet or
The Chief
a spear.
And
Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Vennachar in silver breaks, Swe('[)S through the jdaiu, and ceaseless mines
On
II(<Ii;istle
^Vll('l<'
Kome, the
108
NARRATIVE POEMS.
here
liis
And
Threw down his target and his plaid, And to the Lowhind warrior said " Bold Saxon to his piomise just,
: !
Vieh-Alpine has discharged his trust. This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, This head of a rebellious clan,
Hath led thee safe through watch and ward, Far past Clan- Alpine's outmost guard. Now, man to man, and steel to steel,
See, here, all vantageless I stand. Armed, like thyself, with single brand;
For
I ne'er delaj'Cd, The Saxon paused When foeman bade me draw my blade; Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death: Yet sure thy fair and generous faith.
And my
deep debt for life preserved, meed have vyell deserved Can naught but blood our feud atone?
better
And
hear,
to
fire
The Saxon cause rests on thy steel For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Betv^een Die living and the dead:,
Who spills the foremost foeman's life. His party conquers in the strife.' " " Then, by my word," the Saxon said, " The riddle is aln^ady read. Seek yonder brake beneath the clilf,
'
SCOTLAND.
There
lies Ketl .^lurdock,
409
stiff.
stark and
to me.
to Fate,
and not
To James, at Stirling, let us go, When, if thou wilt be still his foe, Or if the King shall not agree To grant thee grace and favor free,
plight mine honor, oath, and word, That, to thy native strengths I'estored, With each advantage shalt thou stand,
I
to
Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye. " Soars thy presumption^ then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew,
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? He yields not, he, to man nor fate! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate:
clansman's blood demands revenge. yet i)repared? P>y Heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valor light As that of sofiie vain carpet knight,
My
Not
A\ho
ill
deserved
my
courteous care,
And whose
wear
A
"
T
thank thee, Roderick, for the word! my heart, it steels my sword; For r have sworn this braid 1o stain III llie best blood that wai-ms thy vein. Now. tiMice. farewell and mill, begone!
]t nerves
I
iio( 1h;it by lliee alone, I'roud Chief! can courfesy be shown; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn,
Yel think
410
Start at
NARRATIVE POEMS.
mv
whistle clansmen stern.
this small
Of
Would
But
fearful odds against thee cast. fear not doubt not which thou wilt-
We
Then each at once his falchion drew. Each on the ground his scabbard threw, Each looked to sun and stream and plain, As what they ne'er might see again Then, foot and point and eye opposed.
;
In dubious strife they darkly closed. then with Roderick Dhu, field his targe he threw. Whose brazen studs and tough bull hide Had death so often dashed aside;
Ill
fared
it
That on the
For, trained abroad his arms to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield.
He
To
While less expert, though stronger far, The Gael maintained unequal war. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood: No stinted draught, no scanty tide, The gushing floods the tartans dyed.
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain.
And showered
his blows like wintry rain; And, as firm rock or castle-roof Against the winter shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still,
SCOTLAND.
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, And, backwards borne upon the lea,
411
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. Now yield thee, or, bj Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"
*'
Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy Let recreant yield, who fears to die." Like adder darting from his coil,
!
"
Like wolf that dashes through the toil. Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitx-James's throat he sprung;
And
Received, but recked not of a wound, locked his arms his foeman round.
Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown!
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel They tug, they strain down, down they go. The Gael above, Fitz- James below. The chieftain's gripe his throat compressed. His knee was planted in his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw. Across his brow his hand he drew. From blood and mist to clear his sight. Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! liut hate and fury ill sujtplied
!
I
Tlio
stream of
all
life's
exhausted
tide,
And
To
too late the atlvantage came. turti lie odds of deadly game;
I
For, while the dagger gleamed on high, Reeled soul imd sense, reeled brain and eye. Down came the blow but in the heath
I
412
NARRATIVE
POEiMH.
The struggling foe may uow unclasp The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; Unwonnded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose.
He
Heaven for life. from Redeemed, unhoped, desperate strife; Next on his foe his look he cast,
faltered thanks to
Whose
every gasp appeared his last; In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, "Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid. Yet witli thy foe must die, or live.
The praise that faith and valor give." Witli that he blew a bugle note. Undid the collar from his throat,
TJnbonneted, and by the wave Sat down iiis l)row and hands to lave. Then faint afar are heard the feet
Tlie
Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet; sounds increase, and now are seen
Four mounted squires in Lincoln green; Two who bear lance, and two who lead,
By
And by
''Exclaim You, Herbert and Luffness, alight. And bind the wounds of yonder knight; Let the gray ])alfrey bear his weight,
We
And
SCOTLAND.
413
To seek fresh horse aud fitting' weed. I must be bonne The sun rides high To see the aroher-ganie at noon; But lightly Uavard clears the lea. De Vaux aud Herries, follow ine." SIU WALTER SCOTT.
;
VI.
And Suowdoun's
She turned the hastier, lest again The prisoner should renew his strain.
"
"'
"
said;
^"
And
I
bid thv noble father live; can but be thy guide, sweet maid.
suit to aid.
he,
liis
though
better
't
ire
aud pride
aside.
mood
is
lOllen,
<-ome;
With beating heart and bos(m wrung. As to a brothcT-'s arm she clung.
(lently he dried the falling tear.
And
llei-
Through gallery
414
NARRATIVE POEMS.
touch, its wings of pride portal arch unfolded wide.
't
Till, at his
Within
was
brilliant all
and
light,
As when the setting sun has given Ten thousand hues to summer even,
And from
their tissue fancy frames Aerial knights and fairy dames. Still by Fitz-James her footing stayed;
And
For him she sought who OAvned this state, The dreaded prince whose will was fate!
She gazed on mnny a princely port Might well have ruled a royal court;
On many
Then turned bewildered and amazed, For all stood bare; and in the room Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume. To him each lady's look was lent, On him each courtier's eye was bent. Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen
He
The centre of the glittering ring, And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King!
As wreath
of snow, on
mountain breast,
it rest,
Poor Ellen glided from her stay. And at the Monarch's feet she lay;
SCOTLAND.
No word
0, not a
415
her choking voice commands: She showed the riug, she chisped her hands.
moment
could he brook,
The generous prince, that suppliant look! Gentlv he raised her, and the while Checked with a glance the circle's smile; Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed,
And bade
''Yes. fair; tlie wandering poor Fitz-James The fealty of Scotland claims.
He
redeem his signet ring. Ask naught for Douglas; jester even His prince and he have .much forgiven Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 1, from his rebel kinsmen, w'rong. We would not to the vulgar crowd Yield what they craved with clamor loud; Calmly we heard and judged his cause. Our council aided and our laws.
will
:
With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn; And Bothwell's Lord henceforth we own The friend and bulwark of our Throne. But, lovely intidel, how now? What clouds th^^ misbelieving brow? Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid; Thou must conrn-m this <loubting 'to nmid."
Then
foitli
liis
tlic
iioltlc
Douglas sjirung,
And on
neck his daughter hung. The Monarch dinnk, thai hap]y hour,
The sweetest,
holiest
draught of Power,
41G
NARRATIVE
it
.,
P0E3I&.
When
can sa} the godlike voice, sad Arise, Vii'tiie, and rejoice! Yet would not James the general eye
nature's raptures long should pr^'
On He
stepped between
"
Steal not
my
proselyte
away
The riddle 't is my right to read. That brought this happy chance to s})eed. Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray In life's more low but happier way, 'T is under name which veils my power. Nor falsely veils, for Stirling's tower Of yore the name of Suowdouu claims. And Normans call me James Fitz-James. Thus watch I o'er insulted laws. Thus learn to right the injured cause." Then, in a tone apart and low, "Ah, little trait'ress! none must know What idle dream, what lighter thought.
vanity full dearly bought. Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew My spell -bound steps to Ben venue, In dangerous hour, and all but gave " life to mountain
What
"
Thou
still
Pledge of
What
talisman of gold. my faith, Fitz- James's ring; seeks fair Ellen of the King?'^
Full well the conscious maiden guessed, He probed the weakness of her breast;
SCOTLAND.
she deemed the monarch's ire Kindled 'gainst him, who, for her sire, Rebellious broadsword boldly drew; And, to her generous feeling true, 8he craved the grace of Roderick Dim.
417
And more
"Forbear thy suit; the King of kings Alone can stay life's parting wings.
I know his heart, I know his hand, Have shared his cheer, and proved
his brand.
Mv
To
fairest
earldom would
give
No
to crave? other captive friend to save?" Blushing, she turned her from the King, And to the Douglas gave the ring,
As
The
"
if
Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, stubborn justice holds her course. Malcolm, come forth! " And, at the word, Down knelt the Or;pme to Scotland's Lord, "For tliee, rash youth, no suj)])liant sues.
And
From
thee may Vengeance claim her dues, \Vho, nurtured underneath our smile, Hast ]iaid our care by treacherous wile,
And
His chain of gobl the King unsli-ung. The links o'ei- .Mnlcolm's neck he Hung, 'J'lieii gently drew the gliltei-ing band. And laid the clas[) on lOllen's hand. SIi: WALTEU SCOTT. VII 27
418
NARRATIVE POEMS.
MUCKLE-MOU'D MEG.
"
trow.
:
He
's
war The field was a saft enengli litter for him Ye needna hae brought him sae far; Then saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt
Gin ye were his master
in
again,
An'
again,
strike
higher
"
my
o'
o'
gude
An' boasts
This night he
within,
maun
share
o'
He
's
Wha
But now he
is
Though saddle
I
'11
An' shall swing frae our donjon keep. an' munt again, harness an' dimt
again,
ne'er
when
game."
hunt
again
strike
higher
SCOTLAND.
"Is
this
419
an'
wad ye rax
his
When
our daughter is fey for a man? many our muckle-mou'd Meg, Or we '11 ne'er get the jaud aff our
"
she
wad
life:
Wat
IJut
Scott, will ve
set
swore to the woodie he 'd gang. Ne'er saddle nor uiunt again, harness nor dunt
again.
Wha
Wat
ne'er shall
close to his
An' bliukit
bride, lie
"
fu' sleely
his
l)ride or a
The
Till
he saw Meggy shedding a tear; TlicM saddle an' mnnt again, harness an' dunt
Fain wad
Meg's
wad he hame.
gibbet
tear
toudied
higli
bis
bosom tlie
Wat
strode to his
doom;
420
NARRATIVE POEMS.
He
gae a glance round wi' a tear in his eye, Meg shone like a star through the gloom. She rushed to his arms; they were wed on the
spot,
An' lo'ed ither muckle and laug. Nae bauld border laird had a wife like Wat Scott 'T was better to marry than hang. So saddle an' munt again, harness an' dunt again, Elibank hunt again, Wat 's snug at hame. JxVMES BALLANTINE.
:
We
While yet the frost lay hoar, heard Lord James's bugle-horn
Sound by
And
flung our
armor
in the ships
We
less,
But gazed
Where
away
And
aye the pur^jle hues decayed Upon the fading hill. And but one heart in all that ship
Was
tranquil, cold,
and
still.
SCOTLAXD.
The good Lord Douglas paced the deck, Aud O, his face was wan Unlike the flush it used to wear
!
421
When
"'
in the battle-van.
Come
Sir
hither,
Simon
is
my
trusty knight,
There
my
soul
"
Thou know'st the Avords King Robert spoke Upon his dying day:
he bade take his noble heart carry
lav
it
How
And
it
far
away;
"And
Where once
Since he might not bear the blessed Cross, Nor strike one blow fur God.
"
Last night as
I
in
my
bed
lay,
His robe was of the azure dye. Snow-white his scattered hairs.
even
siicji
And
"
a cross he bore
As good
'
vSaint
Andrew
bears.
^\'lly
'
go vc
I'ortli.
With spear and jjcltcd brand? Why do you lake its dearest jdedge
From
this
422
"
'
NARRATIVE POEMS.
The sultry breeze
of Galilee
Creeps through its groves of palm, The olives on the Holy Mount
But
't
is
dead
To
"
'
rise
Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede! That heart shall pass once more
fiery fight against the foe,
In
As
"
'
it
was wont
of yore.
it shall pass, beneath the Cross, save King Robert's vow; But other hands shall bear it back, Not, James of Douglas, thou!
'
And And
"
Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray, Sir Simon of the Lee, For truer friend had never man Than thou hast been to me,
The tear was in Sir Simon's eye As he wrung the warrior's hand,
" Betide
1
'11
me
SCOTLAND.
"
423
Lord James, once more to ride, Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend, Shall cleave me from tbv side!"
But
if
in battle-fi'ont,
'T is ours
And
are we sailed and ave we sailed Across the weary sea, Until one morn the coast of Spain Rose grimly on our lee.
as we rounded to the port, lieneath the watch-tower's wall. We heard the clash of the atabals.
And
And
"
call.
sounds yon Eastern music here So wantonly and long, And ^\hose the crowd of armed men That round yon standard throng?"
"
Why
The Moors haye come from Africa To spoil and waste and slay,
of Castile
Now shame
'
I
me
That
From
" riave
my merry men
h>()se
all,
the |ilain;
liin
We
'11
the Scoltish
fields of
Within the
Spain!"
424
"
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Now welcome
Tlioii
and
tliy
stalwart power;
Dear
is
Who
"
Is
comes
in such
an hour!
it for bond or faith jou come, Or yet for golden fee? Or bring ye France's lilies here, Or the flower of Burgnndie?"
"
greet thee well, thou valiant king. Thee and thy belted peers, Sir James of Douglas am I called.
God
And
"
We
do not
bond or
plight,
Nor 3'et for golden fee; But for the sake of our Blessed Lord, Who died upon the tree.
"
We
bring our great King Robert's heart Across the weltering wave.
grave.
True pilgrims we, by land or sea. Where danger bars the way And therefore are we here, Lord King,
;
To
"
!
his stately head, the tears were in his eyno, " God's blessing on thee, noble knight.
And
For
this brave
thought of thine!
SCOTLAXD.
''I
425
know
That those who fought beside the Bruce JShould tii-ht this day for me!
"
Take thou the leading of the van, And charge the Moors amain;
is
There
In
all
Tlie
Douglas turned towards us then, O, but his glance was high! "There is not one of all my men
But
is
as bold as
I.
" There
is
not one of
all
my
But bears as true a si)ear, Then onward, Scottish gentlemen, And think King Robert 's here! "
'tr>
knights
cross-bolts flew,
As
rest,
And many
^^'e^t
a bearded Saracen down, both horse and man; For through their ranks we rode like corn, So furiously we ran
!
But
ill
Iteliiinl
our
Thongli fain (o
us Ihi'ough,
426
NARRATIVE POEMS.
For they were forty thousand men, And we were wondrous few.
We
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade Still held them hard at bay.
"
Make in make in " Lord Douglas " Make in, my brethren dear
!
! !
cried
We mav
But
not leave
thicker, thicker
And sharper shot the rain, And the horses reared amid
But they would not charge
"
Now
"
An'
I
may
Then So
in his stirrups
lion-like
And
As
more, '' Pass thou first, thou dauntless heart, " thou were wont of 3'ore!
SCOTLAND.
The roar
427
And
heavier
in,
And swept
"Now
Thev
o"er flood
and
fell,
is
won!
Why
"
dost thou draw the rein so hard. Good knight, that fought so well?"
O, ride ye on, Lord King!" he said, " And leave the dead to me,
For I must keep the dreariest watch That ever I shall dree!
" There
lies,
The Douglas, stark and grim; And woe is me 1 should be here, Not side bv side with him
!
arm
is old.
And
all
that
Is stretched before
me
there.
"
"And
Scotland
veil
thv head
In sorrow and
428
NARRATIVE POEMS.
The sorest stroke upon thy brow Hath falleu this day in Spain!
"
We We
'11 '11
bear them back unto our ship, bear them o'er the sea,
And
"
be thou strong of heart, Lord King, For this I tell thee sure, The sod that drank the Douglas' blood
Shall never bear the
And
Moor
>'
The King he
hand,
"God
I
That fought so well for Spain; 'd rather half my land were gone, So thou wert here again "
!
We bore
James away,
And the priceless heart we bore, And heavily we steered our ship
Towards the Scottish
shore.
No welcome
Nor clang of martial tread, But all were dumb and hushed
Before the mighty dead.
SCOTLAND.
429
We
And
Douglas Kiik,
The heart
in fair Melrose;
woful men were we that day, God grant their souls repose!
BARCLAY OF URY.
Up By
the streets of Aberdeen, the kirk and colh^ge green,
laird of TTry;
Rode the
evil-eved,
in
mob
fury.
Flouted
Iiiiu
And
Fed
aii<l
Yet with calm and stately mien Uj) the streets of Aberdeen
Came
lro<i|
witli
broadswords swinging,
430
NARRATIVE POEMS.
Quoth the foremost, Ride him down Push him ijrick him through the town Drive the Quaker coward "
''
!
! !
!
But from out the thickening crowd Cried a sudden voice and loud Ho! a Barclay!" ''Barclay!
:
And Saw
the old
man
at his side
a comrade, battle-tried,
bare.
Fronting to the troopers there, Cried aloud " God save us Call ye coward him who stood
!
Nay,
''
Pledges of thy love and faith. Proved on manj^ a field of death, Not by me are needed."
That his
Now
so meekly pleaded.
's
"Woe
And
SCOTLAND.
" Urv's houest lord reviled, Mock of knave aud sport of child,
431
In
"
liis
own good
city
As we charged on
And
his
Walloon
lancers,
'11
teach
To
"
!
Than his gracious Lord who bore Bonds and stripes in Jewry?
" Give
me
name
While
Shall
"
FTappicir,
with loss of
all,
Than when reeve and squire were seen Kiding out from Aberdeen \\ iili bared heads to meet me;
" ^^'hen each goodwife, o'er and o'er, Blessed me as 1 i)assed her dooi"; Aud the snooded daughter,
432
NARRATIVE POEM^.
Through her casement glancing down. Smiled on him who bore renown
From
"
Hard to feel the stranger's scoff, Hard the old friends' falling otf, Hard to learn forgiving; But the Lord his own rewards,
And
Warm
living.
"Through this dark and stormy night Faith beholds a feeble light Up the blackness streaking; Knowing God's own time is best, In a patient hope I rest
For the
So the
full
day-breaking!"
laird of
Ury
said,
Turning slow his horse's head Towards the Tolbooth })rison, Where, through iron gates, he heard
Not in vain, confessor old. Unto us the tale is told Of thy day of trial Evei'y age on him who strays From its broad and beaten ways Pours its seven-fold vial.
!
ear
AMERICA.
And, while hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses throiigii the smoke discern, Of the good hereafter.
433
Knowing
this,
Share of trulli was vainly set In the M'orld's wide fallow; After hands shall sow the seed, After hands from hill and mead
yellow.
Thus, with somewhat of the seer, Must the moral pioneer From the future borrow, Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, And, on midnight's sky of rain. Paint the golden morrow
JOHN (iREENLEAF
WIIITTIER.
When
From
of yore, the brig of seven guns Fought the fleet of seven score,
till
SepteMil)(!r nigiit
morn, throngli
tlioiisaiul,
uiiil
the long
Lhc ninety
Ninety men
ngiiiiist
two
won
Three lofty Rrilisli .ships came a-sailiiig (o Fayal: One was a line-of-battle ship, and two were frigates
tall;
434
NARRATIVE
men
are,
POEMf<.
Nelson's valiant
Manned
the gnns they served so well at Aboukir and Trafalgar. Lord Dundonald and his fleet at Jamaica far away Waited eager for their coming, fretted sore at their
delay.
cities
Home
to swing, there were prisoners to bring in fetters to old England for the glory of the
King
At
Came
And
And
their
castle
and
town
;
Came
the privateer that lay close inside the eighteen-gun Carnation, and the Rota,
forty- four.
And And
the
triple-decked
;
Plantagenet
an admiral's
pennon bore
And
she bent her springs and anchored by the castle on the shore.
AMERICA.
Spake the noble Portuguese no fear
;
435
:
to the stranger
"Have
is
They
your ship
As
if
you from
F'or the
But
tlie
privateersman
faith
is
said,
"
Englishmen,
And
Come
their
God may
send,
we
will fight
them
to the end.
And
may
spare us then."
where she
:
lies
"
!
cried the
Eng-
admiral
"
all
And
Speeding slioreward where the Armstrong, grim and dark and ready, lay. Twice she hailed and gave them warning; but the
On
menace scorning. in s[l('n(lid silence, till a cable's came they away length Then the Yankee pivot spoke; Pico's thousand echoes woke
feeble
And
436
NAFFATIVE POEMS.
the wrath of Lloyd arose
till
Then
And
and he called
"
!
five
hundred men
And
No
quarter
and he sent
them forth to smite. Heaven help the foe before him when the Briton comes in might Heaven helped the little Armstrong in her hour of
!
bitter
need
Launches to port and starboard, launches forward and aft, Fourteen launches together striking the little craft. They hacked at the boarding-nettings, they swarmed above the rail But the Long Tom roared from his pivot and the
;
grape-shot fell like hail Pike and pistol and cutlass, and hearts that knew not fear,
:
Bulwarks
of
brawn and
teer.
And
ever where fight was fiercest, the form of Reid was seen ;
his quick
sword
fell
Once in tlie deadly strife The boarders' leader pressed Forward of all the rest
Challenging
life for life
;
But
had crossed,
AMERICA.
437
A (lying sailor
His pistol to
"
tossed
IJeid,
and
cried,
Now
the
"
!
But
.\iid
privateersman
aside,
laughed, and
flung
the
weapon
hilt,
gasped and
died.
Then
But
little
Now
the tide
was
at flood again,
almost done,
When
And
And
the sloop-of-war
came
u[)
two
her,
to one,
fire
;
she o])ened
gun
for gun,
Then
the
With her
^\iid tlie
drawing slowly to
shore.
"
:
days are
But no
wave
To
the
sliip
we
will
give a
shipman's grave."
438
NARRATIVE POEMS.
So they did as he commanded, and they bore their mates to land With the figurehead of Armstrong and the good sword in his hand. Then they turned the Long Tom downward, and they pierced lier oaken side, And they clieered her, and they blessed her, and
they sunk her in the
tide.
Tell the story to your sons, When the haughty stranger boasts
How
Of his mighty ships and guns And the nmster of his hosts. the word of God was witnessed in the gallant
days of yore the twenty fled from one ere the rising of
the sun. In the harbor of Fayal the Azore
!
When
ones,
grown
sea,
tired of play,
Roamed by
the
Watching the great waves come and go, Prattling, as children will, you know. Of dolls and marbles, kites and strings ;
Sometimes hinting at graver things.
At
An
Helter-skelter, with
merry
din,
in,
Over
its sides
they scrambled
AMERICA.
Ben, with his tangled, nut-brown hair, Bess, with her sweet face flushed and fair.
Rolling in from the briny deep, Nearer, nearer, the great waves creep,
439
Higher, higher, upon the sands. Reaching out with their giant hands,
glee,
of gold and cold with footsteps damp Night came, the hours dawned slowly by crept Day
; ;
And now
A A
And
storm comes on, with flash and roar. While all the sky is shrouded o'er; The great waves, rolling from the west, Bring night and darkness on their breast.
the boat though driving storm. Protected by God's powerful arm.
Still floats
The home-bound
vessel,
"
Sea-bird," lies
:
In ready trim, 'twixt sea and skies Her captain paces, restless now, A troubled hjok upon his brow, While all his nerves with terror thrill,
The shadow
of
some coming
ill.
The mate comes uji to where he stands, And grasps his arm with eager hands.
"
A boat has just swept past," says he, 'Bearing two children out to sea;
440
'T
is
NARRATIVE POEMS.
dangerous
now
to
put about,
suffice
By By lips
'11
the captain cries. every thought that 's just and right,
I
hoped
to kiss to-night,
life,
peril vessel,
and men.
And God
With anxious faces, one and all, Each man responded to the call And when at last, through diiving storm. They lifted up each little form, The captain started, Math a groan " My God is good, they are my own "
;
: !
INDEX
OF AUTHORS AND
TITLES.
nativity, etc., of Anilwrs and the AmeriAineiivcDi pociicul works, sec (Jcneral Index of Authors, lo/u/zic -V.
For occupation,
publishtrs
ran
of
page. 53
H;3
ARNOLD, MATTHEW.
Memorial
X'erscs
72
Tlie
Bruce, The
325 420
nAf.LAXTJXK, JAMES.
.Muekle-:\roir(l :Mog
418
Lay
of St. Aloy's)
147
BARXES.
21.3
BEXTOX, MYRON
Mowers, The
240
l^OKER,
I'riiice
OEOROE HENRY.
A.leh
.*^nS
BOXE.R, .JOHN
HEXRY.
94
The
rAitin of Virgil)
2G1
303
BROWXE. FRANCES.
"
"
olrl
0,
til"
pleasant days of
206
448
444
AUTHORS AND
TITLES.
page. 40 69 200
187
BROWNING, ROBERT.
Glove, The Herve Riel
332 341
108 349 70 58
House
How they brought the Good News Lost Leader, The Memorabilia
BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.
Hurricane, Thei
151
BURNS, ROBERT.
Bard's Epitaph,
113
Napoleon
169 180 57
CAMPBELL. THOMAS.
Lord Ullin's Daughter Napoleon and tlie British Sailor
390 347
CHAUCER. GEOFFREY.
Canterbury Pilgrims, The (The Canterbury Tales).. 363
CLEVELAND, JOHN.
Memory
of
46
COLERIDGE. HARTLEY.
Shakespeare
52
DAVIDSON, JOHN.
London
230
AUTHORS AND
DAMKS, SIR JOHN.
Spring, To the
J)A^',
TITLES.
445
I'agk.
{Uy vines
of Aslrijsa)
THOMAS FLEMING.
The
153
J
Coasters,
DOI5SON,
[HENRY AUSTIN.
107
EL\\
''
Luiigfflluw
DOWUEN,
Leonardo's
ARD. Monna
Lisa
"
152
DRYDEN, JOHN.
Under
tlie
54
ELLIOTT, EBENEZEE.
Burns
63
FAIRFAX, EDWARD.
Erniinia
and
tlie
Wounded Tancred
(Italian
of
Tassv)
319
FIELD. :MICHAEL.
Burial of Robert Browning. The 80
20
GOLDSMITH. OLIVER.
Deserted ViHage. The
Enghind
The Traveller)
in
214 100
GOSSE.
Hans
EDMUND
Chri.sti:in
February
[WILLIAM]. Rome
Ainh-rscn
IS.j
43
300
rLVLLEGK, FITZ-GREENE.
.Tnseph
01
244
HARRISON.
FRANCES
(Srranvs).
riiAleau Papinenu
253
Camp
80
446
AUTHORS AND
Hammer
TITLES.
page.
.
.
HERBERT, W.
Thor recovers his
(Icelandic of Scemwid)
284
HERRICK. ROBERT.
Ben Jonson, Ode to Deliglit in Disorder
47 135
HEY\YOOD, THOMAS.
Hierarchy of Angels
53
HOGG. JAMES.
Jock Johnstone the Tinkler
390
Translation)
HUNT, LEIGH.
and the Lions, The
Mahmond
Nile,
The
a little Music-Box
On Hearing
JAPP.
Shelley
ALEXANDER HAY
{H. A. Page). 58
Human
Wishes)
7 51
JONSON. BEN.
Freedom
in
Fiilcnt
Wonia^i)
131
Memory
To the On the
48 48
KEATS. JOHN.
Benjamin Robert Haydon, To Grecian Urn, Ode on a
00 130
KIPLING, RUDYARD.
Christmas
in India
101
LANG, ANDREW.
Scythe Song
248
AUTHORS A2W
LANIER, SIDNEY.
Song
of tlio Chattahoochee
TITLES.
447
page. 242
LAZAItUS, EiMMA.
Chopiu
114
LEWIS,
MATTHEW GREGORY
(Monk
Leicis)
321
LONGFELLOW, HENRY
Carillon
32 106
3'J
100
L'5
22
149
ISfAHONY.
Bolls
(if
FRAXriS SYLVESTER
Shandon, The
[Father Prout).
143
124
iil
327
de Sevigne, To
40
"
MOORE, THOMAS.
"
name
"'
fi
141
(Tli>'
105
O'BRIEN, FITZ-JA.MES.
Jiano
120
448
Bust
AUTHORS AND
of Dante,
TITLES.
fagk. 41
303
POE,
EDGAR ALLAN.
The
The Course
Time)
141
Bells,
POLLOK, ROBERT.
Byron
(
of
59
POPE, ALEXANDER.
Poet's Friend,
Toilet,
1P2 135
DE.
177
Armstrong
Privateer, The
433
ROGERS, SAMUEL.
Naples {Italy) Venice {Italy)
194 189
To
Costcllo's Translation)
ROYDEN, MATTHEW.
Sir Philip Sidney {Elegy on a Friend's Passion)
45
{Herbert's Translation)
284
SCHUYLER, MONTGOMERY.
97
AUTHORS AND
SCOTT. SIR WALTl^R.
TITLES.
'U9
page. 413 404 201 401 20S
.
Fitz-James and Ellen {Lady of the Lake) Fitz-JaniC8 and Roderick Dhu {Lady of the Lake) Knight, The Mannion Marniion and Douglas {Marmion) Melrose Abbey {Lay of the Last Minstrel) Old Time Christmas, An {Marmion)
(
.'
210
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM.
Cleopatra {Antoni/ and Cleopatra)
It)
SIIARR, WILLIAM.
di
Roma)
17o
SHENSTOXE, WILLIAM.
Village Schoolmistress, The (The fichoolmistress)
.
231
SIMMONS, BARTHOLOMEW.
Memory
of
Thomas Hood, To
(
the
C2
SOT'THEY. CAROLINE
ANNE BOWLES.
l^S
379
SOUTHEY, ROBERT.
Cataract of Lodore, The
Greenwood
Slirift,
The
170 379
STI^DMAN.
EDMUND CLARENCE.
131
Cousin Lucrece
30 103
Way
to the
Woods)
257
STERLING. JOHN.
Louis
XV
330
I'aiiilili
Ihc
T)..ri:i.
151 1.
182
STRi;i:'l'.
Sen liT,
ALKIiKI) The
tlie
LINGS.
210
STRONG. WILLIAM.
Krilhiof at
VI 129
450
AUTHORS AND
TITLES.
page.
1)6
Monument
82 13 75
TASSO, TORQUATO.
Enninia
and
the
Wounded
Tancred
{Fairfax's
Translation)
319
TAYLOR, TOM.
Abraham Lincoln
TEGNfiR, ESAIAS.
Frithiof at the Cotirt of Angantvr {Strong's Trans289 "........ lation)
25
To
Smoke
153 150
438
77
261
WATSON, WILLIAM.
Musarum Lachrymre " Wordsworth's Grave," From
WHIT:\rAN,
Still
84 74
Day
in Autunni,
157
AUTHORS AND
WHITMAN, WALT.
JNLuuialiiitta
(
TITLES.
451
page. 245
Myself tionfj of Myself " O Captain luy Captain " *' Out I'roin behind tiii.s mask" (Wound-Dresser)
)
!
..
102 28 100
429
G4 92 IIG
Burns
Fitz-Greene Hallcck
Prayer of
Ajj^assiz,
The
B.
WJFFEN, BENJAMIN
To Rome
(SpanisJi of
De Quevedo)
177
WILLIS,
NATHANIEL PARKER.
315
(Christopher Sorth).
15G
Leper, The
WILSON, JOHN
VVOOLSEY,
Emerson
SARAH CHAUNCEY
(Susan CooUdge)
97
WORDSWORTH. WILLIAM.
Departure of Sir Walter Scott, On the
Milton,
61
54 229 Sonnet Earth has not anything 55 Sonnet. The 55 Walton's Book of Lives (Ecclesiastical Sonnets) ....
"
"
:
To
ANONy:Mors.
Anne Hathaway Georee Washington
Lord Ivovel Robin Hood and Allan-a-Dale
110
15
.373
375
NOTICE OF COPYRIGHTS.
American poems
of copyright
.are
in this
used by
owners, either
the authors or
tlie
publishers
named
tlioir
representatives in the
who
Publishers of
1904.
The
"
Bor.i'.s-Mi'.nRiLL
Company, Indianapolis. F.
II.
An Old
Buttle-Field."
Thompson: "The
Coatrs
&
Co., Philadelphia.
i?t/iclj7u?a E.
"A
Holy
Jackson's
Way;"
W. Rcalf :
Nation."
Messrs. HoroiiTox, Mifflin & Co., Boston. H. H. BrowncU: "Coming." "Words for the 'Hallelujah Chorus';" R. W. Eineison : "By the Rude Bridge;"./. Hay: "Liberty;" " lirotluu- .Jonathan's Lanu'iit," "Old IronO. W. Ilohnis: sides;" JnUd \V. lloirc: "Battle Hymn of the Republic;"
Jjisarvs: W. D. Uou-rlU: "The Two Wives;" Emiiin " " .Jonathan to John," The Present "Gifts;" .7. It. Loin'U: E. C. Stcdnuin: Proctor: "Heroes;" Crisis ;" Vv'/;/') J>. "Cavalry Song," " Kearnv at Seven Pines;" H. "Thnroil: "A Cry to Arms," "Ode;" J. G. Wliitticr: fSarbara Frietchio," "Brown of Ossawattomie," "Centennial Hymn," " Laus Deo," "Our "Disarmament," "John C. Fremont," " Li State." State," "The Reformer;" Forrciifhc Wilhoii:
" The Cause of Mr. P. J. Krkkdv, New York. .1. J. Uijini : the South," "The Con(iuereil iianner," "Sentinel Songs."
New York. IF. Watnon: "England and Her "The Turk in Armenia." vol-, vu SPIRIT. vii
I.
viii
NOTICE OF COPYRIGHTS.
The
"
J. B. LiPPiN'COTT CoMTAXV, Pliiladelpliia. ^. Zf. Balcrr: The Bhick Rea:iineiit," " Dircfe for a Soldier; " Miinjarrt J. Preston: "Under tlie Hliade" of the Trees;" T. li. R<<!(}: "The Brave at Home," "The Olosuig Scene," "Sheridan's
Ride."
Death."
Mr. Robert West."
Allan Reid.^E.
Maynard &
Co.,
"Battle
II.
American poems
in tliis
are given below are the property of the author.s. or of their representatives named in parenthesis, and may not be reprinted
without their periuission, which for the present work has been
courteously granted.
Publishers of
1904.
H.
F.
Bennett; C. T. nmolis (Mrs. Harriet layman Brooks) J. B. M. Fmcli W. L. Garrison (F. J. Garner) O'ReUly (J. S. Murphy, Exec, and Trustee) J. J. Phttt; J. B. RanditU; R. W. Raymond; J. W. Riley; C. G. D. Roberts; J. J. Rooiiey; W. D. Schuyler- Lighthcdl', W. R. TJiaycr; G. A. Toivnsend.
II.
;
;
ignorant
men
too
much admire
'' Yet," he them, wise men make use of them. " thev teach not their own use, but that savs, there is a wisdom without them and above them These are the words of a wiu ly observation."
been tauglit by years of studiousIt does not ness the emptiness of mere study. teach its own usefulness, and gives its most imj)ortant k'sson if tlirougb it we k^arn that beyond
lies a
dom won by
is
mav come
This,
a truer wisall
is
when
said,
the one great defect of any system of study, in that it teaches not its own use. No amount of
study of the ]rinciples of l>arter will make a man (5ne (-in study ]>aiiiiiiiu and a great merchant.
learn all tln' characteristics and methods and schools of the art and yet not be able to pnint a
No amount of study of jmetry will make pictuic. So the crafty men of action "cona man a ])oet.
temn studies," and the wis(! men who us(^ them " look beyond them for their value. iCnglish literatui-e," said a
noted professor not long ago, cannot be taught"; and certain it is that even with the most advanced analytical text book one cannot
get a tinal satisfiution Iroiii "doing a sum" in JOnglisli literal ur<' as one would work a pi-oblem
ix
'"
AYhen applied to the higher arts, and true as one can mal^e it, leaves study, deep one tiie surer that there is a wisdom beyond, which Cometh not by study alone.
in arithmetic.
Least of all can the deepest things in poetry be learned by mere study. Poetry deals with feeling, which study excludes. Study, indeed, seems
to belong exclusively to the prose habit; it seems to be of the intellect and not of the emotions; to
spirit.
We
cannot
write a text-book in poetry, nor can we ever in a text-book written in prose put all the secret of poetry. Beyond the text-book always lies the
higher wisdom born of that which Bacon called observation, which most of us now call insight,
that immediate apprehension of the highest relations which comes as a revelation in our inspired
moments.
In spite of
article to
all this
show how to use it most effectively. one of the most difficult of all arts to study, so difficult that it has had few text-books
and no complete exposition.
The inquirer searching for help will find only a few hand-books, the most useful of which are these: Gummere "Be:
" " " ginnings of Poetry and Hand-book of Poetry Schipper: '^Metrik"; Lanier: ''Science of Eng;
Verse"; Guest: "English Rhythms"; Sted" The Nature and Elements of Poetry." Excellent as these are, he may lament when he has read them that he has found the history of poetic forms, and the technique of poetic method, where
lish
man
xi
he hoped to fmd the secret of poetry. He will be likely to get as luiuh help from writings on poetry
that are not text-books, such as Matthew Arnold's
On Translating Uonier," Last ^Vords Essays on Translating Homer," Celtic Poetry," " Hitroduetion to the I'oetry of Wordsworth," and the Introduction to Humphry Ward's English " Poets " Emerson's Essays The Poet " and " " Wordsworth's InPoetry and Imagination
:
"
"
*'
''
troduction to the ''Lyrical Ballads"; Poe's striking little essays on the art of poetry; Aristotle's ''Rhetoric"; Macaulav's "Essay on Milton''; Lowell's " Essay on Dryden " and passages
;
Milton, from Dryden, from Coleridge and from many another. Eor one who has not known and
of
illuminative
comment
from
Pope, from
read
studv
much poetry the best introduction to mav well be the pleasurable reading
its
of
some, or of all, of these works, though remembering that such reading is not study, but only the
reviewing of records of work done by others, useful mainly as a preparation for the real study
AN'hich is to follow.
Erom
likely
all
to get a definition
which
will
satisfy him.
})oeti'y is
such expression as parallels the real and the ideal by means of some rhythmic form. IJut this is not a complete delinition. is not l*oetry
to
with a
with a measuring line or sounded The student must feel at'iei- its iiluiiiiiK't. limits as these authors h;i\-e done, and liiid for
lie
l)(nii(i('(|
himself
its
satisfactions.
One can
feel
more
of
xii
its
are prose-forms of mind action, wliile poetry in its higher manifestations is pure emotion, out-
passing prose limits. Yet one can linow poetry if he cannot completely define it. The one essen-
element which distinguishes it from prose is rhythm. In its primal expressions this is mainly a rhythm of stresses and sounds of accents and
tial
measures, of alliterations and rhymes. Poetry began when man, swaying his body, first sang or
moaned to give expression to his joy or sorrow. Its earliest forms are the songs which accompany
the sim})lest emotions, ^'\'hen rowers were in a boat the swinging oars became rhythmic, and the oarsman's chant naturally followed. When the
harmony with
the
movement
of his body.
So came the chants and songs of work and of triumph. For the dead warrior the moan of lamentation fitted itself to the slower moving to and In fro of the mourner, and hence came the elegy.
its first
expression this was but inarticulate, half dumbly voicing the emotion
it
had
little
representation of
grief.
rhythms were all for the meaning beyond the crude some simple human desire and
its
it
It
put a
thrill of exulta-
tion in work, of delight in victory, or of grief at loss by death, into some rhythmic form tangible to the senses. There grew up thereafter a body of
xiii
forms
Hues, stanzas,
verbal liarmonies.
dress of poetry, and may rightly be the first subWe i>roperly give the ject of the student's study. name of poetry to verses such as Southey's " Lo" " Bells," or Lanier's dore," Poe's
Song
of the
Chattahoochee,'' which do little more than sing to our ears the harmonies of sound, the ultimate rhvthms of nature. Yet it is not merelv the brook or the bell or the river, that we hear in the poem, but the echoing of that large liarmony of nature
of wliich the
bell is
only
the single strain. Through the jiarticular it suggests the universal, as does all poetry, leading
through nature up to something greater, far beyond. This rhvthm is best studied in ])oems that were written to be sung or chanted. If one could
read Greek, or Anglo-Saxon, or Old High German,
or the lOuglish of Chaucer's day, he could quickly train his ear to be independent of the handbooks
on versification, by reading aloud, or listening as one read aloud, the Odyssey/' oi* the " Beowulf," " or the or the Canterbury Nibelungen liied Tales." These would be better for this i)ur])ose than any modern verses, lor the reason liial lliey were inten<led to he sung or chanted, and so all
'
*'
'*
the
ihylhms are
language bars out for most of us this older verse, we can read the early balhuls, (he lyrics of the Eli/abethan time, when as yet verses sjH)ke
lier of
mainly to
tha."
llic
<';ii-.
sim|)l('r <yie,
such as
or some modern poems of the " '* I^n aiigclino or " Hiawa-
xiv
Such poetry, which is mainiy to delight and charm the ear, is really a primal form of verse and we may properly call it the poetry of the
Senses.
lish
In studying
it
Verse" is a delightful companion, and many minor hand-books besides those named above, such as are found in most schools, and some of the shorter accounts of versification such as are found in works on rhetoric, will give assistance. Yet the pathway to the mastery of the problems of metre is for each student to tread alone. The
best plan
is
Then the technical language of the books tity. will lose its terrors and the simplicity of construcIf the tion of good poetry will become apparent.
student will read so
of this poetry that his senses become responsive to its music, he will no longer need a hand-book. For this purpose let
much
him read such poems as can be sung, chanted, or spoken to the ear; such as Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome," Scott's " Marmion,'' Browning's " " " Pied Piper and How They Brought the Good
Charge of the Light BriNews," Tennyson's gade." Let him read mainly for the senses rather than for the mind, getting the reward in the
quickening of life through the throbbing rhythms; then the metrical system of poetry will become as real to him as the rhythmic movements of the planets are to an astronomer. There is no other
"
way
to get a feeling for tbe pulsations of poetry than througli this intimate acquaiut:!nce. \VithouL this, months of reading of amphibrachs and trochees and dact3ds will not avail. The poem
xv
much
as possible to
make
the swing of its verses perfectly clear. When it sings to us as we read, it has begun to teach the
message of
its
rhythms.
far the text-books have been pleasant companions, even when unable to give as much aid to
Thus
the student as he could wish; but the fact will come to him at length that there is something
to consider.
tiie baud-books permit him These books deal with the forms, and most of them with the forms only. They
more
in
poetry than
analyze the methods, work out the metre, show how the parts are woven together, explain how the chords produce the harmonies. But just in
proj)ortiou as the student becomes learned in these rhythms, and can distinguish minute or subtle
that this study teaches not its own use and that there is something beyond which must be won by
his
own
observation.
make
whose
linos
do
not sing themselves through his day-dreams, which yet affect his imagination even more powerfully
than
He
its
much more
In
iii
jtoelry
than
rhymes and
which prose may describe, but which poetry alone can recreate. There is such J thing as a jti-ose thought and such u lliing The one liives with e.xact as a [j(etic thonghl
1
mind
find i-ela<ions
xvi
and for
all
is the natural medium of expression. The other parallels the actual with a suggestion of an ideal rhythmically consonant with the motive under-
lying the fact. Justice, for example, deals in prose fashion with a crime and awards the punishgests such recompense as
life is
ment which the law allows; poetic justice sugwould come of itself in a community ]>erfectly organized. The prose of
best one can in the world as
life is
honest living, a wortliv endeavor to do the it is; the poetry of the feeling for, and the striving after, the
life into harmony with a nobler So we living. rightly give the name of poetry to such veise as Goldsmith's *' Deserted Village," Johnson's " London," Gray's " Elegy," Wordsworth's " Excursion," Milton's " Paradise Lost," Chaucer's " Knight's Tale," Browning's " Ring and the IJook," T(mny sou's " In Memoriam," which do not much stir our senses. They parallel the real with the ideal, suggesting the eternal rhythms of
bringing of this
infinite mind as the poetry of the senses suggests the eternal rhythms of omnipotent nature. This poetry of the Intellect is the second great
division of the i>oetic realm. Beyond it lies still for there are another; spiritual harmonies which
the mind alone cannot compass, and which the senses alone cannot interpret. The hand-books
harmonies, and do not go of lyric and classifications academic beyond their of pentameters, hexaepic, and their catalogues the student can for meters, or alexandrines. But
know
xvii
himself pusli his obscrvatiou beyond, uud come to the poetry of the liigher imagiuatiou, where he can be forgetful of the mere form and disdainful
of the merely lo^nieal relations, where his spirit can as it were see face to face the truth beyond
the seeming.
This
ought to come
and
He
^lay first find it in some pure lyric such as Shel" ley's Skylark." or in some mystical fantasy " LaUa Kookh " or such as :\Ioore's Coleridge's " Christabel," or in some story of human abnega" Enoch xVrden," or some tion such as Tennyson's
wail of a soul in iain, as in Shelley's Adonais," or in some outburst of exultant gi'ief such as Whitman's "Captain, My Captain," or in some
revelation of the unseen potencies close about us, " as in Browning's Saul," or in some vision of of our this the mystery earthly struggle such as
"
some answer
of the spirit to
Wordsworth's "Ode:
Intimait
When
its
he thus finds
use.
he
his
highest
In
He
poetry is to parallel the actual with the ideal, to cast upon an earthly landscajte someIhing of a heavenly glow, to interjjret earthly things in terms of the spirit. The poetry of the
The
oitice of
Senses
thought
lifts
of
a mortal to the skies, thinking the one higher than itself as tlie poet
xviii
muses, singiug the songs of an angelic choir in harmony with the rhythm of the verse. The
poetry of the Spirit brings
gels
tlie
down
to
The highest type of poetry lends itself perfectly In class work it to earnest and profound study.
is
and
it
usually better to study poets as well as poems, to study thoroughly a few works of a great
Poetry is essentially a synthetic art; unites the wandering desires of our hearts and spirits to make one single and enduring immaster.
Poetry speaks also the mood, the asof its author; so piration, that the great poet is the one who brings us most
pression.
directly to understand its art. For most student classes it is best to take a single poet for interpretation, and to study in succession a small num-
ber
at
saj' six
to ten
most two or
be dependent on many considerations and cannot here be positively advised, but one will not
go astray in choosing Wordsworth, Tennyson, Browning, Longfellow, or Whittier, or three of them, for a season's work. Intelligent direction
is of great assistance in making the study definite and i)rogressive. Choose first of all the poems which seem to have influenced men, for to move men is the final test of poetry. If there is no class, and no leader, let the student make his choice by a preliminary examination. Let him read rajjidly^ and for the single impression, the
xix
whose
titles
seem most
familiar to him as he scans them over; such as " '* Yarrow Unvisited," " SoliTinteiii Abbe.v," " " We are Seven/' " The Lucy," tary Keaper,"
Intimations of Immortality," " She was a Phantom of Delijiht,'' and a few of the lyrical ballads; '' Lockslev Hall," then let him read Tennvson's
and a few of him read the Browning's i)oems; " " Abt Vogler," The Grammarian's FuSaul," (Miilde Roland to the Dark Tower Came," neral," Pil)I)a Passes," one or two dramas, and a few of " Men and Wothe brief poems in the volume men." Then let liim make his own list for study, taking those jmems which have most stirred him, those which he remembers vividly after his reading, those which have become a part of himself. If the student makes his choice frankly and sin-
"
Maud,"
'
The
shorter
'*
''
making it, begun his study. him frame for himself oi* get from his leader, if he has one, a list of the (piestions which each jioem is to answer for him. If the work be
cerely,
he has, in
Then
let
ward
'
really jioetry, its study ought to give a help tothe solution of the first great problems
:
^^'ilat
is
is
its
revelation
our senses, our hearts, and our have a right to ask of each poem three (piestions: "How does it charm our sento
the
life
souls?"
How
clearer for
newal
of
it make the meaning of things ''How does it bring to us a reus?"; life?" The first (piestion is better
does
XX
company.
structure be gone over at home. Let the student v\ork out the metre, the typical line, and the variations by which the poet gets his effects, the metaphors, the alliterations, the consonant and
vowel harmonies.
It
will
aid
if
this
work
be-
made
as definite and as exact as an investigation in a scientific laboratory. But all this should be
the student's
divisions of the
shown, so that each student will comprehend the poem as a whole as the poet must have conceived Then as some one reads aloud the lines the it. music of the rhythms will come by assimilation rather than by analysis. Poeti-y parallels the real with the ideal to make a harmony before undreamed of. So in the lines sound re-echoes sound, and a subtle music but half perceived
sings itself out of the
moving
notes.
music bears is the second from ])rose in that it diflers Poetry question. lifts the thought so that its highest relations and suggestions are made known. We have a right therefore to parallel the prose sight with the poetic visions and to find in what the one transcends
this
What burden
the other.
are studying the " Idyls of the King," for instance, we may fitly ask what was the story as the poet took it, and into what has
If
we
he transformed
it
for
us.
This study
of
the
thought of the poem is an excellent subject for The questions should be made deficlass work.
nite
xxi
should
be
so
directed
that a
few
clearly worked-out and thoroughly nuitied poetic thoughts will be left in the niiud of each student.
things practice may titly supplement i)reIn a reading circle of which one of the editors of this series was a uuMuber the poems of
all
In
cept.
closely re-
sembling that advocated in this article. As a suggestion the topics and questions for one of
the
acted as leader.
tory of the poem read aloud by one of the members of the class. Then the tojiics given below Avere discussed as
One of the members given. brief essay reciting the hiswas read. The entire poem was
turn by groups of students v\ho had In given especial attention to one of the topics. the discussions the entire class joined, and at the
presented
in
'*
Toi>ic:
Re(piir;d Keadings:
"
Suggested IJeadings
(>arlier i)oem,
in
''
In
<-onncction
"
with
"
(he
connection
(f
"
and
later
"
.Mcnutir
Tennyson," by Lord
Tenny-
son.
III
The
jdiysical basis
Shidy Ihc
('((r?
iiM'lic.
Why
In
wiiat
wav
iloes
mclie
reseniblo
xxii
' differ from Lowell's Present " Swinburne's of Crisis," Triumph Time/' " Browning's "There's a woman like a dewdrop i' "The Blot the Scutcheon''), and Mrs. (from " " Browning's Ehyme of the Duchess May ? is Why this metre peculiarly adapted to the sentiment of " Locksley Hall " ? How does the metre differ in effect from that of Mrs, Julia Ward
and
wbat way
Howe's
ant's
" "
"
Battle
"
Hymn
The Death
?
" of the Republic and Bry" of the Flowers and Tennyson's Is the effect of the
May Queen
rhythm
opti-
mistic as opposed to the pessimism of the " Triumph of Time," and why? Why are the lines of
this
is
poem
memory?
What
there in the use of the words which gives such sweetness to the verses as one reads them aloud.
Has the poem for you a music of its own which haunts you like a remembered vision? Find out, if you can, something of the secret of this music. (B) The intellectual interest of the poem. (1) Consider the meaning of difficult passages, such as " Fairy tales of science." Explain the
meaning of stanzas containing the following quo" " Cursed be tations " Smote the chord of self " " That a sorrow's crown of sorsocial wants row "; " But the jingling of the guinea"; " Slow" " Knowledge comes, ly comes a hungry people but wisdom lingers."
:
long an interval elapsed between the above two poems? Does any the writing in or trend of thought indicate the change style The earlier poem was and is imof time? lapse
(2)
How
of
inensely popular.
less
Why? Why
is
popular?
xxiii
What
'
is
what manner
tinued in
is it
the story in the poem, and in told? How is the story con-
" ? Was Loeksley Sixty Years After Hall an inland or a seashore residence, and why?
the poems.
self
Describe the surroundings from suggestions in Sum up what the hero tells of him-
and
his
love-story.
What
side
suggestions are
of of
there
i:ditli?
regarding
Ts
the
characters
Amy
and
as
the emotional
the hero
What fiuely balanced as the intellectual side? lijiht is thrown on the character of his love by his outbursts against Amy? Would it be fair to judge of Amy and her husband by what he says
of
them
in his first
that he judged
agree with him altogether? Was it well for Amy When obedience to parento marry as she did? tal wishes and love are in conflict, which should
be
followed?
Did
the
hero's
come true?
(4)
Whose
love do
evil
How
it
does Tennyson
all
make
(C)
of the poem. has this jioem inlluenced you? For many persons, Tennyson, out of a simple love-story, has made a pr()i)Iiecy of ideal love. Has he for
How
vou?
For mauv
iersons
stoi-y
Tcnnvsou made
])oetry
when he
i.aralh'lfd
ihe
tale of earthly passion wilh a vision of comi>leter of this life, so vivid that the pain and tragedy the us but for be i)rei)aration present life come to for the belter life to come, as the poet sings to us
that
xxiv
"
Through the ages one increasing purpose runs And the thoughts of men are widened with the process
of the suns."
Has he
I)oetry ?
to
you
in like
manner through
his
poem
Systematic study such as that suggested above will help in answering the questions, " What charm has this i)oem for us? " and " How does it put a deeper meaning into the events it records?''
But it is difficult to frame formal questions the answers to which will show how a poem quickens life. The influence of a poem is so much a matter of temperament and of emotion, both of the author and of the reader, that one has to feel its power rather than to work it out logically. Poetry passes beyond prose in that it quickens life by moving us to feel its nobler emotions. It will
teach
its
own
with a great poem will have his whole life made Class work, done sympathetically and brighter.
sincerely, will aid in finding the truest interpretations. Yet studies teach not their own use.
to us
unbidden
if
we
as
children hope for them. We shall find the highest uses of poetry in remembering alwajs
that
it
may
at its best
come
"
to us as an
light
Angel of
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY
"
The Study
of Poetry."
PAGE
By Francis
Jlovetj
Stoddard
:
ix
<
Freedom
Ill
War
Peace
179
423
Titles
461
XXV
VIII
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
POEMS OF NATIONAL
I.
SPIRIT.
PATRIOTISM.
mound,
Tliirk wall or
moated
j^ate;
Not
cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, lauj^liing at the storm, rich navies ride; Not starred and span;led courts,
to
No: men, high-minded men. With powers as far above dull brutes endued
As
liut
In forest, brake, or den. beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude, Men who their duties know,
know
tain,
i'r<'vent
Ami
cnish
th(^
th(>
chain;
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
And
sovereign law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate
crowning good, repressing ill. Smit by her sacred frown, The fiend, Dissension, like a vapor sinks; And e'en the all-dazzling crown Hides his faint rajs, and at her bidding shrinks. Such was this heaven-loved isle. Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore! No more shall freedom smile? Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?
Sits empress,
Since
all
must
life resign,
And
WILLIAM JONES.
Whose heart has ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?
such there breathe, go, mark him well For him no minstrel raptures swell
If
;
High though
his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim.
Despite those
titles,
power, and
pelf,
PATFIOTLSM.
The wretch, concentred
all
in self,
And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhouored, and unsung.
SIR
WALTEK
SCOTT.
MY COUNTRY.
is a laud, of every laud the pride. Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside. Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
There
And
milder moons imparadise the 'night; land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores. Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes
the spirit of a purer air. In every clime, the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar race.
dearer, sweeter sjjot than all the rest, Where man, creation's t3rant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride. While in his softened looks benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Sti-('w
life:
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
;
An
angel-guard of love and graces lie Aronnd her knees domestic duties meet,
And
"
fireside pleasures
gambol at ber
feet.
Wbere
sball "
patriot?
look
around;
!
O, thou shalt find, howe'er thj footsteps roam, That land iJiij country, and that spot thij home
Man, through all ages of revolving time. Unchanging man, in every varying clime.
his own land of ever}' land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er the world beside; His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
Deems
JAMES MONTGOMERY.
Why we
It is that
should
call
it
Father Land?
Adam
here below
Was made
And
of earth by Nature's hand; he our father, made of earth. Hath peopled earth on every hand ;
And we, in memory of his birth. Do call our country Father Land.
At
first, in
No sound
But
^^
Iiistled like
't
day,
And maybe
was
want
of thought:
resistless laws,
the birds;
PATRIOTISM.
She gave him h)vely Eve because If he 'd a wife they must have words.
And
B}'
hold,
proudly mine; The language, as the tale hath told, Was given in the female line.
male descent
is
And
thus
we
see
We name
sprung;
they 've
We call our country Father Land, We call our language Mother Tongue.
SAMUKL LOVER.
As some
licuds at his treasure, couuls, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rising i*ai)tures fill.
Yet
still
Thus
to
still:
man
sup-
Yet
and sorrows
fall.
To
see the
oft
I
sum
of
human
bliss so small;
And
Some s])ot to real haj)piness consigned, Where my worn soul, each wandering hope
rest,
May
my
fellows blest.
Uut where
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
all
^^PIRIT.
Who
of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own, Extols the treasures of his stormy seas.
pretend to know?
And
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, in the glare, or stems the tepid wave. And thanks his gods for all the good the}' gave. Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam. His first, best country, ever is at home.
And And
Though patriots
wisdom
,
find
An
As To
equal portion dealt to all mankind different good, by art or nature given.
different nations,
makes
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
GIFTS.
"
O World-God,
cried.
give
me Wealth
His prajer was granted. High as heaven behold Palace and Pyramid; the brimming tide Of lavish Nile washed all his land with gold. Armies of slaves toiled ant-wise at his feet, World-circling traffic roared through mart and
street.
en-
PATRIOTISM,
Seek Pharaoh's race to-day, and ye shall find Rust and the moth, silence an<l dusty sleep.
" cried the Greek. World-God, give me Beauty His prayer was granted. All the earth became Plastic and vocal to his seuse; each peak, Each grove, each stream, quick with Promethean "
tiame.
Avith
light.
The lyre was his, and his the breathing might Of the immortal marble, his the play Of diamond-pointed thought and golden tongue. Go seek the sunshine race. Ye find to-day A broken column and a lute unstrung.
"
Roman
The blood of myriad provinces was drained To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart Invulnerably bulwarked every part W\\\\ serried legions and with close-meshed Code. Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed its home A i-ooll<^ss ruin stands where once abode The imperial race of everlasting Rome.
"O
ITis
God-head, give
jtrayer
cried.
slave
Of the
10
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece beheld, His wisdom wore the hoary crown of Eld, Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth and power. Seek him to-day, and find in every land. No fire consumes him, neither floods devour; Immortal through the lamp within his hand.
EMMA LAZARUS.
ENGLAND.
FROM
"
THE TIMEPIECE
all
"
:
"
II.
England^ with
thy faults, I love thee still, My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrained to love thee.
Though thy
clime
Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed With dripping rains, or withered b}- a frost,
I
skies,
And
With
without a flower, for warmer France her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers. To shake thy senate, and from height sublime Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire Upon thy foes, was never meant my task But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake Thy joys and sorrows with as true a heart
:
As any thunderer there. And I can feel follies too; and with a just disdain Frown at effeminates whose very looks
Thy
Keflect dishonor on the land I love.
HoW;
in the
name
of soldiership
and
sense,
PATRIOTISM.
Should Eiiglaud smooth
jn'ospei*,
11 such things, as
wliou
And
tender as a
girl, all
essenced o'er
AVith odors, and as [)rofligate as sweet, .Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath.
And
love
fight,
when
such as
these
Presume to lay their hand ui)on the ark Of her magnificent and awful cause? Time was when it was ])raise and boast enough In every clime, and travel where we might, That we were born her children. Praise enough To fill the and)ition of a private man, That Chatham's language was his mother tongue,
And
Wolfe's great
his
own.
WILLIAM COWrKK.
RULE, BRITANNIA.
FKOM "ALFKKD," ACT
IT.
SC. 5.
When
I>ritain first, at Heaven's comnuind, Arose from out the azure main. This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung the strain:
Rule, Britannia, rule the ivaves! Fiyr BritouH never irill be slaves.
fall; free,
Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and The dread and envy of them all. Rule^ Britannia! etc.
12
Still
more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke As the loud blasts that tear the skies
Serve but to root thy native oak. Rule, Britannia! etc.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; All their attempts to bend thee down Will but arouse thy generous flame, And work their woe but thy renown.
Rule, Britannia!
etc.
To thee belongs the rural reign Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
;
All thine shall be the subject main, And every shore it circles thine.
The Muses,
Blest
Isle!
still
Shall to thy
And manly
hearts to guard the fair. Rule, Britannia, rule the ivaves! For Britons never will he slaves.
JAMES THOMSON.
white COMPANY.^^
What
of the
bow?
The bow was made in England Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows;
PATRIOTISM.
So men who are free Love the old yew-tree And the hind where the yew-tree grows.
13
What
of the cord?
in
Enghmd:
love;
A
And
cord that
bowmen
So we
'11
To
hemp
w^as wove.
What
of the shaft?
in
England:
;
So we
'11
drink
all
together
To
And
the gray goose feather. the land where the gray goose flew.
of the
What
men?
The men w^ere bred in England: The bowman the yeoman The lads of dale and fell. Uerc 's to you and to you To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell. SIR A. CONAN DOYLE.
beef
was
the lOnglishman'a
II
<'nu<)l)l('(l
14
POEMS OF NATIONAL
soldiers were brave,
SPIRIT.
Our
good.
And
0, the Roast Beef of old England, 0, the old English Roast Beef!
But since we have learned from effeminate France To eat their ragouts, as well as to dance,
We
HENRY riELDING.
Our
And
fathers of old were robust, stout, and strong, kept ojien house with good cheer all day long,
their
Which made
song.
plump tenants
rejoice in this
When
Ere
coffee
good Queen Elizabeth sat on the throne, and tea, and such slip-slops, were
in terror, if e'en she did frown.
In those days, if fleets did presume on the main. They seldom or never returned back again As witness the vaunting Armada of Spain. 0, the Roast Beef, etc.
;
O, then
we had stomachs
;
to eat
and
to fight,
PATRIOTISM.
But
15
now
uight;
we 're
hum
?
could,
but
good
And
The
last
0, the Roast Beef of old England, O, the old English Roast Beef!
four stanzas added by KICIIAKD
LOVERIDGE.
day, to
Freedom did
sav,
ever
I
The spot
lived
Says Freedom,
Why,
that
's
my own
island "
!
O, it's a snug
little
island!
right
little,
So hapi)y as
Julius Ca?sar, the IJoinan, ^\ lio yielded to no man. Came by water, he couldn't come by land
And Dane,
And
all
homes turned
O, what a snug little island! They'd all have a touch at the island! Some were shot dead, some of them fled, And some stayed to live on the island.
Then
a very "
man,
Cried.
It
l)ial
i)e
1
iicxcr liked
my
land.
would
mandy,
10
And
on your beautiful island." " 'T is a snug little island; Says he, Sha'n't us go visit the island? " Hop, skip, and jump, there he was plump. And he kicked up a dust in the island.
live
But party deceit helped the Normans to beat Of traitors they managed to buy land; By Dane, Saxon, or Pict, Britons ne'er had been
;
licked,
Had
they stuck to the king of their island. Poor Harold, the king of our island
!
He
That
lost
's
both his
all
set out to
invade
a,
'T will sure, if they ever come nigh land. They couldn't do less than tuck up Queen Bess,
And
The Dons came to plunder the island; But snug in her hive the queen was alive, And " buzz " was the word of the island.
V
These proud puffed-up cakes thpught to make ducks and drakes Of our wealth but they hardly could spy laud. When our Drake had the luck to make their pride duck
;
And
stoop to the lads of the island! O, for the ships of the island!
of the island;
o
z
o
^ <
r
>
w^ =^ n
Z w w D
PATRIOTISM.
Devil or Don,
let
17
;
And
see
how
In each saying. " This shall be my land "; Should the ''Army of En<^land," or all it could
bring, land,
\^'e 'd
fight for our right to the island; give them enough of the island; Invaders should just bite once at the dust,
We'd We'd
But not a
bit
more
of the island.
THOMAS
DIBDH?".
HILL.
He tripped up the steps with a bow and a smile, Offering snuff to the chaplain the while, A rose at his button-hole that afternoon
'T
of the
it
Then shrugging
man
With the mask and the axe, and a murmuring ran Through the crowd, who below, were all pushing
to see
his fee.
siuilT
at the mob. as they roared, witli a stare, again with a cynical air.
To the
'm hap])y to give but a moment's delight (lower of nn* country agog for a sight.'*
vm 2
18
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
block,
SPIRIT.
Dusted room for his neck, gajiy doffing his hat, Kissed his hand to a lady, bent low to the crowd, Then smiling, turned round to the headsman and
bowed,
"God
And
"
save King
James!" he
cried bravely
and
shrill.
the cry reached the houses at foot of the hill, My friend with the axe, a voire service,'- he said
;
And ran
his white
thumb
blade.
When
Then kneeling,
block
;
down
his
He
With the
of the bravest of
in
moment
Happy and
glorious.
fall
PATRIOTISM.
Confonud
Frustrate
their polities, tlieir knavisli tricks
fix,
19
Thy
On
i)]eased to
pour;
And
UENKV CAREY
"
With golden-beaded wine: Come, comrades, now, I bid ye To the true love of mine
' '
!
''
Her forehead 's j)ure and holy, Uer hair is tangled gold, Her heart to me so tender, To others' love is cold.
Two glasses at least for the dearest And sweetest girl, Lisette."
rose a grizzled sei-geant My true htNc give thee. Three true lo\('s blent in one love,
Up
"
soldier's trinity.
20
POEMS OF NATIONAL
"
SPIRIT.
Here 's to the flag we follow, Here 's to the land we serve,
here 's to holy honor That doth the two preserve."
And
On the next day they were brought before the autliorities and ordered to perform Kotou. Tlie Seiks obeyed, but Moyse, the English soldier, declared he would
not prostrate himself before any Cliinaman alive, and was immediately knocked upon the head, and his body tlirown
upon a dunghill."
Times.
'\
China
He
never looked before. To-day, beneath the foeman's frown, He stands in Elgin's place,
Who
Ambassador from
Britain's crown.
And
type
of all
her race.
Kent Regiment.
PATRIOTISM.
21
He
heart, with English instinct fraught, yet can call his own.
Ay, tear his body limb from limb, Bring cord or axe or flame. He only knows that not through him Shall England come to shame.
Far Kentish
hop-fields round him seemed, Like dreams, to come and go Bright leagues of cherry-blossom gleamed.
;
One sheet of living snow; The smoke above his father's door In gray soft eddyings hung; Must he then watch it rise no more, Doomed by himself so young?
with strength like steel Yes, honor calls He i)ut the vision by;
I
Let dusky Indians whine and kneel. An English lad must die. And Ihus, with eyes that would not shrink, With knee to man unbent,
Unfaltering on its dreadful brink, To his red grave he went.
Vain mightiest fleets of iron framed. Vain tliose all-shattering guns. Unless proiul lOngland keej) untamed The strong heart of her sons; So let his name through Europe ring,
's
king,
22
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
What
profits it, O England, to prevail In camp and mart and council, and bestrew
With
Thj treasuries, if thou canst hear the wail Of women martyred by the turbaned crew, Whose tenderest mercy was the sword that slew, And lift no hand to wield the purging flail?
We
held'st a charge
from
Him
Who
To smite
watches girdled by his seraphim, the wronger with thy destined rod. Wait'st thou his sign? Enough, the unanswered
cry
Of virgin souls for vengeance, and on high The gathering blackness of the frown of God
WILLIAM
WATSOJS".
AVE IMPERATRIX.
Set
in this
stormy Northern
sea,
Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! what shall men say of thee, Before whose feet the worlds divide?
The
earth, a brittle globe of glass, Lies in the hollow of thy hand.
its
And through
WILLIAM WATSON
PATRIOTISM.
The sj)ears of crinisou-suited war, The long white-crested waves of fight, And all the deadly fires which are The torches of the lords of Night.
23
The yellow leopards, strained and lean, The treacherous Russian knows so well, With gaping blackened jaws are seen To leap through hail of screaming shell. The strong sea-lion of England's wars Hath left his sapphire cave of sea, To battle with the storm that mars The star of England's chivalry. The brazen-throated clarion blows
And
Across the Pathan's reedy fen. the high steeps of Indian snows
chief,
who
lies
Beneath his cool pomegranate-trees, Clutches his sword in fierce surmise When on the mountain-side he sees
The fleet-foot Marri scout, who comes To tell how he hath heard afar The measured roll of English drums lieat at the gates of Kandahar.
For southern wind anil east wind meet Where, girt and crowned by sword and
fire.
24
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
England with bare and bloody feet Climbs the steep road of wide empire.
lonely
Himalayan
height,
Gray
pillar of the
Indian sky,
fight
of Samarcand, where red lilies blow. Bokhara, And Oxus, by whose yellow sand The grave white-turbaned merchants go;
And on from
Whence
thence to Ispahan,
of the sun. the long dusty caravan Brings cedar and vermilion;
And
that dread city of Cabool Set at the mountain's scarped feet, Whose marble tanks are ever full
With water
for the
noonday
heat,
Where through
the narrow straight Bazaar maid Circasian Is led, a present from the Czar Unto some old and bearded khan,
little
Here have our wild war-eagles flown, And flapped wide wings in fiery fight; But the sad dove, that sjts alone In England she hath no delight.
PATRIOTISM.
In vain the laughing girl will lean To greet her love with love-lit eyes: Down in some treacherous black ravine, Clutching his
flag,
2t
lies.
And many
a moon and sun will see The lingering wistful children wait To climb ui)on their father's knee;
And
in
each house
made
desolate
J
Pale women who have lost their lord Will kiss the relics of the slain
Some tarnished
For not in quiet English fields Are these, our brothers, lain to
rest,
For some are by the Delhi walls. And many in the Afghan land. And many where the Ganges falls Til rough seven mouths of shifting sand.
And some in Russian waters lie. And others in the seas which are
The i>ortals to the East, or by The wind-swept heights of Trafalgar.
wandering graves!
restless sleep!
26
POEMS OF NATIONAL
O
!
SPIRIT.
still ravine! O stormy deep! Give up your prey Give up your prey
And
those whose
healed,
never won, Cromwell's England! must thou yield For every inch of ground a son?
race
Whose weary
Go! crown with thorns thy gold-crowned head, Change thy glad song to song of pain Wind and wild wave have got thy dead, And will not yield them back again.
;
Wave and
wild wind and foreign shore Possess the flower of English land Lips that thy lips shall kiss no more, Hands that shall never clasp thy hand.
profit now that we have bound The whole round world with nets of
What
If
gold.
is
found
What
profit that our galleys ride. Pine-forest like, on every main? Ruin and wreck are at our side.
Grim warders
of the
House
of pain.
Where are the brave, the strong, the Where is our English chivalry? Wild grasses are their burial-sheet.
fleet?
And
PATRIOTISM.
27
What word
of love can
dead
lips
send?
Is (his the
Peace, jteace! we wrong the noble dead To vex their solemn slumber so;
Though
childless,
Up
Yet when
this fiery
web
is
spun,
far
Her watchmen shall descry from The young Ke[)ublic like a sun
OSCAR WILDE.
grow
II
by
toil,
For thou with magic might Canst reach to where the light Of rhcebus travels bright The world o'er
!
The genius
of our clinic
From
Khali hail the guest sublime; While the Tritons of the deep
28
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
With
Then
let
O'er the
line
By
its
chains?
While the language free and bold Which the Bard of Avon sung, In which our Milton told
How
When
Satan, blasted, fell with his host; While this, with reverence meet,
greet,
Our
joint
the sun:
Yet
PATRIOTISM.
The voice of blood shall reach, More audible than speech,
'^
29
We
are One."
WASHIKGTOX ALLSTOX.
That man
Who
Who
God
lops the
all
Hands
the tyrant's hope confound To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends, And the great name of England, round and round.
men
Heaven guard them from her tyrants' jails! From wronged Poerio's noisome den. From iron limbs and tortured nails!
We
Tlie
curse the crimes of southern kings, Russian whips and Austrian rods:
likewise have our evil things,
We
Too much we make our ledgers, gods. Yet hands all round!
Ood the tyrant's cause confound To Europe's better health we drink, my friends, And the great name of England, round and round!
!
30
POEMS OF NATIONAL
What
Yet
SPIRIT.
Whom
tell
her
better to be free
Than vanquish all the world in arms. Her frantic city's flashing heats But fire, to blast the hopes of men.
Why
You
titles of
'11
your streets?
all
want them
!
again.
Hands
all
round
God To France,
And
the great
name
of England,
We know
thee and we love thee best; For art thou not of British blood?
Should war's mad blast again be blown, Permit not thou the tyrant powers To fight thy mother here alone. But let thy broadsides roar with ours. Hands all round God the tyrant's cause confound To our great kinsman of the West, my friends. And the great name of England, round and round.
!
Oh
rise,
When war
Oh, speak to Europe through your guns! They can be understood by kings. You must not mix our Queen with those
That wish
PATRIOThSM.
Our freedom's
She
foeinen are her foes;
all
31
Hands
round
To
the tyrant's cause confound our jj;roat kinsnuui in the >A'est, my friends,
!
God
And
RECESSIONAL.
God
of our fathers, kuiOwu of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle line, Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine, Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest
we
forget,
lest
we
forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart:
Still
we
forget,
yet,
lest
we
forget!
away; dune and headland sinks the Lol all our jtomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge
of the nations, spare us yet,
forget,
fire.
Lest we
If,
lest
we
forget!
drunk
^^"\\i\
32
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Or
lesser breeds
SPIRIT.
we forget, lest we
forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust. And guarding calls not thee to guard,
For frantic boasts and foolish word, Thy mercy on thy people. Lord
!
'Amen,
RUDYARD KIPLING.
With
Clothe the remotest strand forests from her scatterings made, New nations fostered in her shade.
And
ye by wandering tempest sown 'Neath every alien star. Forget not whence the breath was blown
That wafted you afar! For ye are still her ancient seed
On younger
PATRIOTISM.
Children of Biitain's island-breed, To whom the Mother in her need
33
Perchance
call.
WILLIAM WATSON.
SCOTLAND.
FROM
"
Land of brown heath and shaggj wood. Land of the mountain and the flood. Land of my sires what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band
!
That knits me to thy rugged strand? Still, as I view each well-known scene. Think what is now, and what hath been.
Seems, as to me, of all bereft. Sole friends thy woods and streams were left; And thus I love them better still,
Even
in
extremity of
ill.
let
me
my
breeze
down
p]ttrick break.
Although
Still lay
it
chilled
my
Though there, forgotten and alone, The bard may draw his parting groan.
VIII
SIR
WALTER
SCOTT.
34
POEMS OF NATIONAL
l^PIIUT.
THE BAKD.
A
riNDARIC
ODE.
"Ruin
seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait; Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing, They mock the air with idle state, Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
Nor e'en thy virtues. Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's
curse,
from Cambria's
tears
"
!
Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay, As down the steej) of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array.
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance: *' To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his
quiv'ring lance.
On
Frowns
o'er cold Conway's foaming Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood: (Loose his beard, and hoary hair
And
Streamed, like a meteor, to tlie troubled air) with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. " Hark how each giant oak, and desert cave, Siolis to the torrent's awful voice beneath
!
PATRIOTISM.
O'er thee,
35
their hundred arms tliey wave, on in hoarser murmurs breathe; thee Revenge Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
I
O King
To high-born IIoeFs
''
harj),
Cold is Cadwallo's tongue. That hushed the stormy main Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed Mountains, ye moui-n in vain Modrcd, whose magic song Made huge IMinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
:
On
lie,
Smeared with
gore,
and
ghastlj' pale;
Far, far aloof th' alfrighted ravens sail; The famished eagle screams, and i)asses by. Dear lost comjtanions of my tuneful art.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drojts that warm my heart, Ye died amidst vour dving countrv's cries No more 1 weep. They do not sleep.
.
On yonder
see
cliffs,
a grisly band,
them
sit,
AvengiMs of
With me
in
And weave
line,
dreadful harmony they join, with bloody hands the tissues of thy
II.
Weave the \\ai-]>, and weave the woof, The win<ling sheet of Ivlward's race. (live amjde loom, and verge enough The characters of hell lo ti-ace. Mark the year, and mark the night,
"
36
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
When
The shrieks
ring,
Shrieks of an agonizing king! She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate.
From
thee be born,
of
who
o'er
The scourge
wait
!
Heaven.
What
Amazement
And
in his van, with Flight combined, Sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.
"Mighty
victor,
mighty lord!
Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were Gone to salute the rising morn.
born,
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows. While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the proAV, and Pleasure at the helm
;
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, his evening That, hushed in grim repose, expects
prey.
" Fill high the sparkling bowl. The rich repast prepare,
may
PATRIOTISM.
Fell Tliirfst
37
baleful smile u}on their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray,
Lance to
Long-
lance,
and horse
havoc,
to horse?
years
of
urged
their
destined
course.
And through
the kindred squadrons mow their wav. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed, Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame,
And
spare the meek usurper's holy head. Above, below, the rose of snow, Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:
Now,
brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom, Stam]) we our vengeance deep, and ratify his
doom.
III.
Edward, lo to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove. The work is done.)
!
"
Stav, oh stav! nor thus forlorn Leave me unblessed, un])itied, here to mourn In yon bright track, that tires the western skies, They melt, they vanisli from my eyes, liut oh what sole^iin scenes on Snowdon's height Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
:
I
my
aching sight!
Ye
unbitiii ages,
crowd not on
my
soul!
38
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
No more
many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
In bearded majesty, appear. In the midst a form divine! Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line:
Her
awe-commanding face, Attempered sweet to virgin-grace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air. What strains of vocal transport round her play!
lion-port, her
Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; Thev breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings. Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored
wings.
"
The verse adorn again. Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe by fairy fiction In buskined measure move Pale Grief and pleasing Pain,
drest.
my
ear.
That
lost in
day?
PATRIOT WM.
To-moiTOw he repairs the goldeu
flood.
And warms
Euoii<>h for
me; with joy I see The different doom our fates assign. Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care, To triumph, and to die, are mine." He spoke and headlong from the mountain's
Deep
he plunged to endless
night.
THOMAS GRAY.
MY HEART'S
My My
heart
's 's
IN
THE HIGHLANDS.
my
heart
is
not here; the Highlands a-ehasing deer; ' Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe. My heart 's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
in the
Highlands,
heart
in the
The birthplace of valor, the country of worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands forever I love.
Farewell
to
;
the
snow
Farewell
to the torrents
's
(he Highlands, my heart is not here; in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; ^ly lieart Cliasing (he wild deer, and following the roe.
Iicait
in
's
My
My
licint 's in
(he
Highlands wlicrcvcr
go.
KOUKIIT JlUUNS.
40
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
Was sweeter far than honey, Was stronger far than wine.
They brewed
it
And
lay in a blessed
it,
A fell man to his foes, He smote the Picts in battle. He hunted them like roes.
Over miles of the red mountain He hunted as thev fled,
And
Summer came
in the country,
Red was the heather bell; But the manner of the brewing
Was
none
alive to tell.
In graves that were like children's On many a mountain head, The Brewsters of the Heather
PATRIOTLSM.
And
the bees
41
the curlews
hummed, and
The king rode, and was angry; Black was his brow and pale, To rule in a land of heather
And
heatli,
folk.
his charger,
couple
And
" I will give you life, ye vermin, For the secret of the drink."
And they looked high and low; The lioather was red around them, The sea rumbled below. And up and spoke the father. Shrill was his voice to hear; " T have a word in i)rivate, A word for the royal ear.
42
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
" Life is dear to the aged,
I
SPIRIT.
little
sell
Quoth the Pict to the King. His voice was small as a sparrow's, And shrill and wonderful clear:
"
I
my
secret,
Only
"
my
son
a
1 fear.
For
life is
little
matter,
And death is nought to the young; And I dare not sell mj- honor Under the eye of my son.
Take him,
And And it
That
cast
's
I will tell
the secret
They took the son and bound him. Neck and heels in a thong, And a lad took him and swung him, And flung him far and strong, And the sea swallowed his body.
And
Like that of a child of ten there on the cliflf stood the father, Last of the dwarfish men.
;
"
told vou
my
son
feared;
For I doubt the sapling courage That goes without the beard. But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail
:
PATRIOTISM.
Here dies in mv bosom The secret of Heather Ale."
KOBEUT
LOL'IS
43
STLV'EXSOX.
Comb
I
hither,
Evan Cameron!
beliind
Come, stand
my
knee
hear the river roaring down Toward the wintrv sea. There 's shonting on tlie mountain-side,
There 's war witliin the blast Old faces look ui)on me, Old forms go trooping past. I hear the pibroch Availing
And my dim
'T
was
What
To
I 've
down
told thee how the Southrons fell Beneath the broad claymore, And how wo smote the Camjibell clan
Hy Inverlochy's
I
shoie.
'vo told
thee
And tamed
44
POEMS OF NATIONAL
But never have
SPIRIT.
How
A
I
traitor sold
him
to his foes;
!
charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet With one of Assynt's nameside,
Stand he in martial gear alone, Or backed by armed men Face him as thou wouldst face the man
Who
And
Remember
down
They brought him to the Watergate, Hard bound with hempen span,
As though they
And
They set him high upon a cart The hangman rode below They drew his hands behind his back.
And
Then, as a hound is slipped from leash. They cheered the common throng.
And blew the note with yell and And bade him pass along.
It
shout.
would have made a brave man's Grow sad and sick that day, To watch the keen, malignant eyes Bent down on that array.
heart
PATNT0TI8M.
There stood the Whig west-country lords In balcony and bow There sat their gaunt and withered dames,
;
45
And their daughters all a-row. And every open window Was full as full might be
With black-robed Covenanting
That goodly sport to see
!
carles,
But when he came, though pale and wan. He looked so great and high, So noble was his manlv front, So calm his steadfast eye The rabble rout forbore to shout.
;
And
each
man
And some
that
Now
But onward
always onward,
Then
first
tossing crowd:
Of Iiiiii who sold his king for gold The master-fiend Argyle!
46
POEMS OF NATIONAL
The Marquis gazed a moment,
SPIRIT.
And nothing
But the cheek
And
did he say, of Argyle grew ghastly pale. he turned his eyes away.
The painted harlot by his side. She shook through every limb. For a roar like thunder swept the street. And hands were clenched at him And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, " Back, coward, from thy place For seven long years thou hast not dared To look him in the face."
;
!
Had I And
Had
Not all their troops of trampling liorse, Nor might of mailed men Not all the rebels in the south Had borne us backward then Once more his foot on Highland heath
Had
Or
trod as free as
air.
I, and all who bore my name. Been laid around him there
!
might not be. They placed him next Within the solemn hall. Where once the Scottish kings were throned Amidst their nobles all. But there was dust of vulgar feet
It
the place
sate before.
PATRIOTISM.
With savage glee came \Varristou To read the inurderous doom
;
47
And
"
And
By
I
That
me
have not sought in battle-field A wreath of such renown. Nor dared I hope on my dying day
a chamber far
away
Where
me But Than bv mv father's grave. For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, This hand has always striven.
And
ye raise it up for a witness still In the eye of earth and heaven.
nail
sleep the good and brave, a better i)lace ye have named for
Then
riive
And
T
Tlic
48
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And
Lit
SPIRIT.
The thunder crashed across the heaven, The fatal hour was come; Yet aye broke in, with muffled beat, The 'larum of the drum. There was madness on the earth below
And anger in the sky, And young and old, and rich and Came forth to see him die.
poor,
Ah God
How
dismal
to see
The great tall spectral skeleton. The ladder and the tree
!
Hark hark
!
it is
"He
One
The clouds are cleared away. And the glorious sun once more looks down Amidst the dazzling day.
"
coming! he is coming! Like a bridegroom from his room Came the hero from his prison To the scaffold and the doom. There was glory on his forehead. There was lustre in his eye. And he never walked to battle More proudly than to die. There was color in his visage, Though the cheeks of all were wan;
is
He
"
PATlilOTIHJI.
49
And
So he might not speak aloud. But he looked upon the heavens, And they were clear and blue,
And
The eye of God shone through Yet a black and murky battlement
hill,
As though
All else
still.
As you have seen the ravens flock Around the dying deer. He would not deign them word nor
But alone he bent the knee;
sign,
And
rose,
And
away;
For he had ta'en his latest look Of earth and sun and day.
beam of light fell o'er him, Like a glory round the shriven,
VIII
50
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And
As
SPIRIT.
Then came a
And
The work
BORDER BALLAD.
March^ march, Ettrick and Teviotdale! Why the de'il dinna ye march forward March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale
!
in
order?
Many
a banner spread Flutters above your head. a crest that is famous in story
Many
ready, then,
Sons of the mountain glen, Fight for the queen and our old Scottish glory.
Come from
ing;
Come from the glen of the buck and tlie roe Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.
;
;
PATRIOTISM.
Stand to vour arms, and march
Enj^land shall
in
51
good order,
manv a dav
When
left I
1
my hame?
^Vhy did
Oh why Where my
forefathers sleep?
And
But
I
high,
And
fair the
tassels
on the
lee,
Xor hear
my
Oh here no Sabbath bell Awakes the Sabbath morn, Nor song of reapers heard
!
Amonji '>^ the vcllow corn: For the tyrant's voice is here
And
wt>e,
Amd A lain
But
Tke 's a Tzac^ wpo^ jbe deep. And a jdt& aQ^:s5 the sea
:
To
tfeeir
arn ewir
THE lEISHMAX.
TSE Sa^a^
T"
r'
_
iOr::s
n natlTr
^OTC
^Tid? tie
r_ _
-
Tbeir
isi-e
foinmd so
faar.
What
an Irs^isiaB?
-srr is
>"
-;
s"zl]
his gni'ie
^--ejsTs
1
a deed of harm.
be daxed
He
^kST
h^Tt ir:a'T
I
:
ITc'Te
St to
than to plan :
PATRIOTL^M.
If strange or poor, for vod he And guide to where you safe
'11
53
pay,
be;
stay,
may
you 're his guest, while e'er you His cottage holds a jubilee. His inmost soul he will unlock.
If
And
if
he
may your
secrets scan,
He
Be where
And
It
if
the field of
fame be
lost.
won't be bv an Irishman,
loved land
Erin
Be thou more
free.
May i>eace be thine, or shouldst thou wage Defensive war. cheap victory.
Mav
iilentv
bloom
in everv field
Which
5i
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
TURLOUGH MacSWEENEY.
A
health to you, Piper,.
And your
wing,
And
they sing, the joy and the hope in the heart of the
Spring,
O, Turlough
MacSweeney!
Play us our Eire's most sorrowful songs. As she sits b}' her reeds near the wash of the
wave.
thrill at the
count of her
flash forth
And
O, Turlough
MacSweeney!
Play as the bards plaj^ed in days long ago. When O'Donnell, arrayed for the foray or feast, With your kinsmen from Bannat and Fannat and
Doe,
blessing of priest,
PATRIOTISM.
Rode out
in the blaze of the
55
O, Turlough MacSweeueyl
Play as they i)layed in that rapturous hour When the clans heard in gladness his voung
call
fierv
Who
And sped
Then on
burst from the gloom of the Sassenach tower, to the welcome in dear Donegal,
to his hailing as chieftain of all
O, Turlough MacSweene}'
Play as they played, when, a trumpet of war. His voice for the rally, i)ealed up to the blue. And the kerns from the hills and the glens and the
scaur
of conquering
like you,
Hugh
MacSweeney!
And
surely no note of such music shall fail, Wherever the speech of our Eire is heard. To foster the hope of the passionate Gael,
To fan the old hatred, relentless when stirred. To strengthen our souls for the strife to be dared,
O, Turlough
MacSweeney!
and
.sircrt in
Maij
ijoiir
tltcir
croon in f/.
Keep
the
even
From
its
journey,
5G
POEIiLS
OF NATIONAL SPIRIT.
From
linnet.
ANNA MACMANUS
{Ethna Carhery).
A SPINNING SONG.
My
love to fight the
Saxon
goes,
And
bravely sliiues his sword of steel; heron's feather decks his brows,
a spur on either heel is blacker than the sloe,
;
And
His steed
And fleeter than the falling Amid the surging ranks he '11 And shout for joy of war.
Twinkle, twinkle, pretty spindle; wool drift and dwindle.
star;
go
let
the white
Oh we weave
!
damask doublet
for
my
love's
coat of steel.
Hark
old-fashioned ditties
To the
murmur
of the
brown round
My love is My love
would
To win her back her ancient right, And make her foemen reel. Oh close I '11 clns]) him to my breast When homeward from the war he comes; The fires shall light the mountain's crest. The valley peal with drums.
!
PATRIOTIFiM.
Twinkle, twinkle, pretty spindle; wool drift and dwindle.
let
57-
the white
Oh we weave
:
my
love's
coat of steel.
Hark! the
old-fashioned ditties
To
murmur
of the
brown round
wheel.
Paddy
can't be seen
For
1
tliere
's
green.
And
She
"
How
's
was
the green.
An'
if
the color
we must wear
street
'
is
England's cruel
red,
* Variation of
an old
Tlie
Sung
58
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed. Then pull the shamrock from your hat and east it on the sod,
And
never fear, 't will take root there, though under foot 't is trod. When law can stop the blades of grass from growin'
And when
Then
wear
in
my
caubeen
But
till
in' of
'11
stick to wear-
But
if
from
Ire-
land's heart.
the dear
old isle will part I 've heard a whisper of a land that lies beyond
the sea.
Where
rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day. Erin, must we leave you, driven by a tyrant's
blessin'
from a strange
never-
Where
more be
And
live
and
die still
PATRIOTISM.
59
MY NATIVE LAND.
It chanoed to nie ui)ou a time to sail Across the Southern ocean to and fro; And, hniding at fair isles, by stream and vale
And months
Of sensuous blessing did we ofttinies go. of dreamy joys, like joys in sleep, Or like a clear, calm stream o'er mossy stone. Unnoted passed our hearts with voiceless sweep, And left us yearning still for lands unknown.
one,
for
't is
soon to tind
In thousan<l-isIed Cathay another isle, For one short noon its treasures filled the mind.
And then again we yearned, and ceased And so it was from isle to isle we passed,
And when
to smile.
Like wanton bees or boys on flowers or lips; that all was tasted, then at last
thirsted
still
We
I
no Southern land
Can
till
when
in health they
home
agen.
And thus with me it was: the yearning turned From laden airs of cinnamon awiiy. And stretched far westward, while the full heart
burned
With, love for Irelaiul, looking on Cathay!
My lirst deai- love, all dearer for thy grief My land, that has no pecM- in all the sea
GO
POEMS OF NATIONAL
If first to
SPIRIT.
For verdure,
first
;
no
man
New
loves ma}^
come with
but the
was nursed
Is
my
As thy shadow
life
doth stand
Twining round its rosy band. Did an Irish mother's hand Guide thee in the morn of it? Did a father's first command Teach thee love or scorn of it?
Dost thou
of all its
charms possest.
Living on its first and best. Art thou but a thankless guest
Or a
If
it,
thou lovest, Where's the test? Wilt thou strike a blow for it?
Has
the past no goading sting That can make thee rouse for it? Does thy land's reviving spring, Full of buds and blossoming,
PATRIOTISM.
Fail to
Gl
make thy cold heart cling. &> Breathiug lover's vows for it?
it.
With the circling ocean's ring Thou wert made a spouse for
Thy
affections
warm
for
it,
it,
Glories that like rainbows peep Through the darkening storm for it?
Son of this down-trodden land. Aid us in the fight for it. We seek to make it great and grand. Its shipless bays, its naked strand,
Bv
The past
brand
it!
Think, this dear old land is thine. And thou a traitor slave of it: Think how the Switzer leads his kine. When pale the evening star doth shine ;
in every line,
Freedom
Think how
Khine
And worships
every wave
of it!
Our own dear land is bright as theirs, But oh our hearts are cold for it;
I
62
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Awake we
!
SPIRIT.
Our fatherland requires our cares, Our speech with men, with God our prayers; Spurn blood-stained Judas gold for it:
Let us do
all
Be
it
IRELAND.
[1847.]
They
They
dying! they are dying! where the crowded herds are lowing: They are gasping for existence where the streams
are
And
health
is
blowing!
God
of justice!
Do we dream?
In this land, at this hour, With the blossom on the tree. In the gladsome month of May, When the 3'oung lambs play.
right, is it fair,
PATRIOTISM.
That we perish of despair In this hind, on this soil,
63
toil.
We
have reaped, but harpy hands Swept the harvest from our lands; We were i)erishing for food,
Our kindly
The fat lluid of the slave. While our corn tilled the manger Of the war-horse of the stranger!
God
of mercy!
must
this last?
And
And
Do
But
its
grow?
May
Where
G4
P0E2W OF NATIONAL
If this be, indeed,
SPIRIT.
our
fate,
Far, ar better now, though late, That Ave seek some other land and try some other
zone;
coldest, bleakest shore Will surely yield us more Than the storehouse of the stranger that we dare not call our own.
The
Kindlv brothers of the ^Vest, Who from Liberty's full breast Have fed us, who are orphans beneath a stepdame's froAvn, Behold our happy state. And weep youv wretched fate That you share not in the splendors of our empire and our crown!
Kindly brothers of the East,
of
earth,
the
Or thou who
bear'st control
Over golden Istambol, Who felt for our misfortunes and helped us in our dearth,^
eyes.
ministers, your
men
of
deepest lore; Let the sagest of your sages Ope our island's luystic pages
PATRIOTISM,
And
exi)laiu
65
teeming
soil,
sky; "Where they tend the golden grain Till it bends u])0u the plain,
Then reap
die;
it
to
Where
iiu*y
And
Till tlioy
store the
snowy
ileece
send
it
to tlieir masters to be
woven
o'er
the waves;
Where, having sent their meat For the foreigner to eat, Their mission is fultilled, and they creep into
their graves.
"T
is
corn
'T
is
f>r
is
growing,
'T is
herds are lowing, for this they are dying where the streams of
And
owing. they perish of the plague where the breeze oi health is blowing!
11
life
are
VII r 5
GO
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
kiPIRIT.
IRELAND.
A
SEASIDE
PORTRAIT.
GREAT,
She
And
Shape, aloue, (her harp has falleii) on the sand, sees her children, one b}' one, de})art
sits
:
still
Her cloak
(that hides what sins beside her own!) Wrapped fold on fold about her. Lo,
fierce heart,
As wailing some, and some gay-singing go, With the far vision of that Greater Land
Deep
in the Atlantic skies.
Another Woman there, Mighty and vrondrons fair. Stands on her shore-rock: one uplifted hand Holds a quick-piercing light That keeps long sea-ways bright; She beckons with the other, saying "Come,
landless, shelterless,
tress
long
dis-
Come hither, finding home Lo, my new fields of harvest, open, free, By winds of blessing blown. Whose golden corn-blades shake from sea to sea " Fields without walls that all the people own
! !
PATRIOTISM.
G7
EXILE OF ERIN.
There came to the beach a poot exile of Eiiii, The dew on his thiu robe was heavy and chill For liis country he sighed, when at twilight re;
pairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. Kut the dav-star attracted his eve's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.
Sad is my fate said the heart-broken stranger; The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee, But 1 have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me.
I
Never again
in the
Where my
hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers. And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh
I
Erin,
my tountry though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
I
But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken. And sigh for the fi-icnds who can meet
me no
more
cruel fate
me
me?
Never again shall m^' brothers embrace me? They died to defend me, or live to deplore!
G8
POEMS OF NATIONAL
is
SPIRIT.
Where Where
my
and
Sisters
is
cabiu door, fast by the wildwood? sire, did ye weep for its fall ?
my
child-
O my
Why
is the bosom-friend, dearer than all sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure, did it dote on a fast-fading treasure?
may
fall
without measrecall.
Yet, all its sad recollections suppressing, One dying wish my lone bosom can draw,
Land of my forefathers, Erin go bragh Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean!
!
And
*
!
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
AFTER DEATH.
Shall mine Or
eyes behold thy glory, O my country? Shall mine eyes behold thy glory? shall the darkness close around them, ere the
When
upon thy stovj? the nations ope for thee their queenly cle, as a sweet new sister hail thee,
* Ireland
cir-
my
PATRIOTISM.
G9
Shall these lips be sealed in callous death aud silence, that have kuowu but to bewail thee?
Shall the ear be deaf that oulv loved thy praises, wheu all meu their tribute briug' thee?
Shall the
mouth be clay that saug thee iu thy squalor, wheu all poets' mouths shall siug
thee?
of thy exiled sons returning! should hear, though dead and mouldered, and the grave-damps should not chill my bosom's
burn in <r. ^o* Ah, the tramp of feet victorious! I should hear them 'mid the shamrocks and the mosses. And my heart should toss within the shroud and quiver as a'cai>tive dreamer tosses.
I
should turn and rend the cere-clothes round me, giant sinews 1 should borrow
O my brothers, I have also loved her in Crying, her loneliness and sorrow.
"Let me
let
"
join with
Then contented I shall go back to the shamrocks, now mine eyes have seen her glory! "
FRANCES ISABEL PARNELL-
70
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
CANADA NOT
At
LAST.
Venice.
Lo Venice, gay with color, lights and song, Calls from St. Mark's with ancient voice and
strange
I
:
am the Witch of Cities glide along My silver streets that never wear by
!
:
change
and pain, and wrong, men And ever sorrow reigning among. Know I can soothe thee, please and marry thee To my illusions. Old and siren strong,
Of years
forget the years,
I smile
Who
At Florence.
Say, what more fair by Arno's bridged gleam Than Florence, viewed from San Miuiato's slope At eventide, when west along the stream
The
last of
day
reflects
a silver hope!
Lo, all else softened in the twilight The city's mass blent in one hazy cream,
beam
The brown Dome 'midst it, and the Lily tower, And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that seem Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power On this side greenly dark with cypress, vine and
bower.
At Eome.
End
Though
of desire to stray I feel would come Italy were all fair skies to me,
PATRIOTISM.
Though Fnince's foam
fields
71
Not all could match the growing thought of home Nor tempt to exile. Look 1 not on Kome
Yet
This ancient, modern, modiirval still sigh westward over hill and dome, Imperial ruin and villa's princely scene
serene.
queen
Reflection.
Rome, Florence, Venice noble, fair and quaint. They reign in robes of magic round me here;
IJut fading, blotted, dim, a jjiclure faint, With spell more silent, only pleads a tear.
Thou hast my heart, () picture dim! autumn hand Of God upon the nui})les! Answer Iliin With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand
I'lead not!
I see the fields, I see the
Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst! I see the sun break over you the mist
:
On
fiom iron bases grand Their heads su])erb! the dream, it is my nahills
that
lift
tive land.
CANADA.
O
OriiLii of
Who
stand'st
72
POEMS OF NATIONAL
How
The trust
SPIRIT.
long the ignoble sloth, how long in gi-eatuess not thine own?
long the indolence, ere thou dare Achieve thy destiny, seize thy fame; Ere our proud eyes behold thee bear
How
name?
The Saxon
These are thy manhood's heritage Why rest with babes and slaves? Seek
highei!
age.
wind unfurled
;
The
Thy
tlag that bears the Maple- Wreath swift keels furrow round the world
;
Thy swift keels cleave the furthest seas; Thy white sails swell with alien gales; To stream on each remotest breeze The black smoke of thy pipes exhales.
Thy future: all the growth, the gain, The fame since Cartier knew thee, since Thy shores beheld Champlain
Montcalm and Wolfe!
!
PATRIOTISM.
Attest in buruiug song and i)salm Ho\\- here tliy heroes f el I
!
73
O Thou
At Queenstow n, and at Luudy's Lane: On whose scant ranks but iron front The battle broke in vain
I
^Miose was the danger, whose the day, From M hose triumphant throats the cheers.
At
Chrysler's
Farm, at Chateauguay,
our ears?
Storming
like clarion-bursts
On
and
fall,
in exile,
some
And
And muniiur
lint
of
Canadian streams.
thou,
my
^^'ake,
and
l>ehold
how night
I
is
doue,
How
on ihy breast, ami o'er thy brow, liursts the uprising sun
CHARLES
G.
IJ.
nor.EKTS.
74
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
WHAT
IS
What
Is
it
Is it Prussia,
where the grape glows on the Rhine? Where sea-gulls skim the Baltic's brine? Oh no more grand Must be the German's fatherland
! !
What
is the German's fatherland? Bavaria, or the Styrian's land? Is it where the Master's cattle graze? Is it the Mark where forges blaze?
What
is
Westphalia? Pomerania's strand? Where the sand drifts along the shore? Or where the Danube's surges roar? Oh no more grand Must be the German's fatherland
! !
What
Is
it
is
Now name
for me that mighty land Switzerland? or Tyrols, tell ; The land and ]>eople pleased me well Oh no more grand
!
What
is
Now name
me
PATRIOTISM.
75,
Ah
So
it must be, fame and victory. Oh no! more graud Must be the German's fatherland!
!
Austria surely
rich in
What is the German's fatherhxnd? Tell me the name of that great land!
the land which princely hate Tore from the Emperor and the State?
Is
it
What
"
is
Now name
at last that mighty land Where'er resounds the German tongue, Where'er its hymns to God are sung "
!
Where binds like oak the clasi)6d hand, Where truth shines clearly from the eyes,
And
Be
Brave German,
That
is
scorn shall foreign trifles brand, all are foes wliose deeds offend, every noble soul's a friend:
the land!
7G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
All
SPIRIT.
Germany that land shall be: Watch o'er it, God, and grant that we. With German hearts, in deed and thought, May love it truly as we ought.
All
this the land, Germany shall be the land
Be
From
the
German
of
PATRIOTIC SONG.
GoD_,
who gave iron, purposed ne'er That man should be a slave: Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear In his right hand lie gave.
Therefore
He
gave him
fiery
mood,
Fierce speech, and free-born breath, That he might fearlessly the feud
Maintain through
Therefore will
life
and death.
did say,
we what God
And
A
And
But he
Who
^Vith
men
of
German name.
!
O German
Thou sacred
love, so true!
We
PATRIOTISM.
Outlawed, each kuave aud coward shall The crow aud raven feed
77
But we
life
Now
man, ye Forth to the holy strife Your hands lift upward to the sky
all
I
Germans, man
for
Your heart
shall
upward
soar
And man
Our
for
man,
let
slavery
let
is o'er!
Let sound,
Trumpet and
and drum,
This day our sabres, man for man, To stain with blood we come;
blood,
O
That
glorious day of
ire.
to all
Day
Let wave,
let wave, whatever can, Standard and banner wave! Here will we purpose, man for man,
To grace a
hero's grave.
Or freedom's death
From
the
we'll die!
German
of
78
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
MEN AND
;
BOYS.
;
The storm is out tlie land is roused Wliere is the coward wlio sits well housed?
Fie on thee, boy, disguised in curls, Behind the stove, 'mong gluttons and girls! A graceless, worthless wight thou must be; No German maid desires thee,
Man
by man,
!
When we
stand watching, the livelong night, Through piping storms, till morning light, Thou to thy downy bed canst creep,
And
shrill, the trumpet's blast, Like the thunder of God, makes our heart beat
Thou in the theatre lov'st to appear. Where trills and quavers tickle the ear.
A
When When
the glare of noonday scorches the brain, our parched lips seek water in vain,
fly
PATRIOTll^iM.
79
At the gToauing
tables of luxury.
A
When
Thou
we, as
we rush
Send home
to our true-loves a long " Good-night," canst hie thee where love is sold,
And buy
When lance and buliet come whistling bv. And death in a thousand shapes draws nigh,
Thou canst
at thy cards, and kill and knave with thy spadillc. King, queen,
sit
A
Jf
should
toll,
!
Thy pampered
And
crawl
in silk to
a hopeless tomb.
iitiful exit thine shall be; No Oerman maid shall weep for thee, No German song shall Ihey sing for thee,
No German
Forth
Man
Swing
From
man.
the battle-sword
the Oerrnan cf
who can!
TIIICODOll KOItMCU.
HAUL
80
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
"
"The
German Rhine!
Who
guards to-day
my
stream divine ?
Chorus.
Dear Fatherland, no danger thine: Firm stand thy sons to watch the Rhme!
They stand, a hundred thousand strong, Quick to avenge their country's wrong; With lilial love their bosoms swell, They '11 guard the sacred landmark well
The dead
of a heroic race
From heaven
look down and meet their gaze; They swear with dauntless heart, O Rhine, Be German as this breast of mine!"
'*
While flows one drop of German blood, Or sword remains to guard thy flood. While rifle rests in patriot hand,
No
Franco-Prussian war of 1871 was adopted as the national folk-hymn and rallying cry of the army.
PATRIOTL^M.
Our hearts
will guard thj stream divine: The Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine!
81
Dear Fatherland^ no danger thine: Finn stand thy sons to ivatch the Rhine! From the German of MAX SCH^'ECIvfc:2vBUKGEB.
PROEM.
FROM
"THE KALEVALA
now for singing, to Ready begin the chanting Of our nation's ancient iolk-song.
I
am
ready
Handed down from bygone ages. In my mouth the words are melting,
From my lips the tones are gliding, From my tongue they wish to hasten; A\'hon my willing tt'cth arc i)arted. When my ready mouth is opened,
Songs of ancient wit Uasten from me not Golden friend, and Brother dear of mine Come and sing witli Come and chant with
* Aside from
is ititcrostin*^
and wisdom
unwilling. dearest brother,
in childliood.
me me
model
the
in
ei)ic
of the
VIII
American Indian.
82
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Since
SPIRIT.
together,
Come
Seldom do we come for siugiug, Seldom to the one, the other, O'er this cold and cruel country,
O'er the poor soil of the NorthlandLet us clasp our hands together,
That we thus may best remember. we now in merry singing, Chant we now the oldest folk-lore, That the dear ones all may hear them, TUat the well-inclined may hear them, Of this rising generation. These are words in childhood taught me, Songs preserved from distant ages; Legends they that once were taken
Join
the
bow
of Youkahainen,
my
at
me
:
When
These
mv
When
AVhen a child ui)on the matting By her feet I rolled and tumbled. Incantations were not wanting Over Sampo and o'er Louhi,
PATRIOTISM.
At the games died Lenimiukainen. There are mauy other legends, Incantations that were taught me, That 1 found along the wayside, Gathered in the fragrant copses. Blown me from the forest branches,
Culled
83
among
Scented from the vines and llowers, Whispered to me as I followed Flocks in land of honeyed meadows,
Many lays the rain has brought me. Other songs the winds have sung me; Man}' birds from many forests. Oft have sung me lays in concord; Waves of sea, and ocean billows. Music from the many waters. Music from the v\hole creation. Oft have been my guide and master.
Henteuces the trees created,
Rolled together into bundles, Moved tliem to my ancient dwelling,
On
Tied them to
Laid them
in a
diest of boxes,
copi)er.
lay within my dwelling the chilling winds of winter, Tliiough Jn my dwelling-place for ages.
Long they
84
To
the table in
my
cabin,
now
Boxes
filled
Shall I
Of
.this
with Avondrous stories? now the end unfasten ball of ancient wisdom?
That shall echo forth the praises Of the beer that 1 have tasted, Of the sparkling beer of barley.
Bring to me a foaming goblet
Of the barley
Lest
of
my
fathers,
singing grow too weary, Singing from the water only. Bring me too a cup of strong beer;
my
It will
add
to
our enchantment,
To
Northland's long and dreary evening. For the beauty of the day-dawn,
For the pleasures of the morning. The beginning of the new day.
From
Translation of
the Fl^S^NISH.
PATRIOTISM.
H5
PART NO LOVERS.
1
SIENNA.
I
Some
call
me
. .
cold,
And
1
if
love thee
And
thou hast ever guessed that so well ; the proof was poor, no one could be sure.
.
Before thy song (with shifted rhymes To suit my name) did 1 undo
The Persian? If it moved sometimes. Thou hast not seen a hand push through
A
My
llower or two.
mother listening to my sleep Ueard nothing but a sigh at night, The short sigh rippling on the deep, When hearts run out of breath and sigh
Of men,
When
others
"
named
thee,
Were
straight,
thy
smile
was
tender,
said not
"
Ay," nor
waited, Donr,
To
I
loft
86
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
When
I
that Clotilda through her curls Held both thine eyes in hers one day,
marvelled, let
me
say.
could not try the woman's trick: Between us straightway fell the blush
separate, blind,
in
Which kept me
and
flush.
sick.
bush.
But now that Italy invokes Her young men to go forth and chase The foe or perish, nothing chokes
My
I
voice, or drives
me from
the place:
I love thee
it is
understood,
:
Confest
No
Has gone
That, loving,
we may
part.
Our Italy invokes the youth To die if need be. ^till there's room, Though earth is strained with dead, in truth.
t^ince twice the lilies were in bloom They had not grudged a tomb.
And many a plighted maid and wife And mother, who can say since then
"
My country," cannot say through life " " " My son," my spouse," my flower
And
not weep
of
men,"
dumb
again.
PATRIOTISM.
Heroic males the country bears, But daughters give up more thau sons. Flags wave, drums beat, aud unawares You Hash your souls out with the guns, Aud take your heaven at once!
87
But we, we empty heart and home Of life's life, love we bear to think You 're gone, ... to feel you may not come, To hear the door-latch stir aud clink Y'et no more you, nor sink.
I
Italy
is
one
.
And
't!
't is
as one small
wound
found!
What
At
ihcn?
If love's delight
Now
And
The
tlius of
'11
noble Italy
^Ve
both be worthy.
futui-e
>sot sparing
nor Giulio.
Nor
this.
.this heart-break.
Go!
88
POEMS OF NATIONAL
AMERICA.
SPIRIT.
O MOTHER of a mighty race, Yet lovely in tby youthful grace! The elder dames, thy haughty peers, Admire and hate thy blooming years; With words of shame And taunts of scorn they join thy name.
For on thy cheeks the glow is spread That tints thy morning hills with red Thy step, the wild deer's rustling feet Within thy woods are not more iieetj
Is bright as thine
sky.
let them rail, those haughty ones, While safe thou dwellest with thy sons.
Ay,
They do not know how loved thou art, How many a fond and fearless heart Would rise to throw Its life between thee and the foe.
They know
not, in their hate and pride, virtues with thy children bide,
What
How
Make
true,
how
What
What cordial welcomes greet the By thy lone rivers of the west
;
PATRWTWM.
and tiutli revered, aud God is feared, In woodland homes, Aud where the ocean border foams.
faith
is
89
How
kepi,
Aud
is loved,
There 's freedom at thy gates, and rest For earth's down-trodden and opprest, A shelter for the hunted head, For the starved laborer toil and bread.
Power, at thy bounds. Stops, and calls back his baffled hounds.
fair
The thronging years in glory rise. And, as they fleet, Drop strength and riches at thy
feet.
Thine eye, with every coming hour, Shall brighten, and thy form shall tower;
And when thy sisters, elder born. Would brand Ihv name with words
lU'fore thine eye
of scorn,
Upon
COLUMBIA.
CoLUMHTA, Columbia, to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!
Tiiy genius
commands
90
POEMS OF NATIONAL
reigu
SPIRIT.
is the last aud the noblest of time, fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime; Let the crimes of the East ue'ei- enci-imsou thy
Thy
Most
name.
Be freedom and
science
To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire; nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire; heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, Thy And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
Whelm
thy realm ; for a world be thy laws as thine empire, and just as thy cause; Enlarged On Freedom's broad basis that empire shall rise,
world
is
skies.
Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar. And the East see thy morn hide the beams of her
star
;
New
To
bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar To fame unextinguished when time is no more;
thee, the last refuge of virtue designed,
fly
Shall
from
all
Here, grateful
bring Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring. Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And
genius and beauty in harmony blend; The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul ever cherish tlie fire; Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined,
And
virtue's bright image, enstamped on the mind, ^Vith peace and soft rapture shall teach life to
glow,
And
light
PATRIOTLSM.
Thy tleols lo all logioiis i\\y power sliall The Dutions admire, and the oeeau obey;
91
display,
Kac-h shore to thy j;lory its tribute unfold. And the East and the t^outh yield their spices
gold.
and
As
the dayspriug
flow,
shall
And
earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow. While the ensigns of union, in trium])h unfurled, Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the
world.
Thus, as
down a
From
spread. war's dread confusion, I pensively strayed, The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired;
ex-
Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along. And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:
*
arise,
The
of
the world,
of the
skies!"
TIMOTHY
n\VI(!HT.
(list a
II
lands
now waits
a better time.
92
POEMF^ OF NATIONAL
f^PIRIT.
In liajjpy climes, where from the geuial sun And virgin earth such scenes ensue,
The force
And
In happy climes, the seat of innocence, \^'here nature guides and virtue rules, Where men shall not impose for truth and sense
There shall be sung another golden age, The rise of empire and of arts, The good and great inspiring epic rage. The wisest heads and noblest hearts.
Not such as Europe breeds in her decay: Such as she bred when fresh and young.
her clay,
Westward the course of empire takes its way; The first four acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last. BISHOP GEOKGE BERKELEY.
ENGLAND TO AMERICA.
Nor
Who
O ye north or south, or east or western land. Native to noble sounds, say truth for truth,
force nor fraud shall sunder us
!
and God
youth
PATRIOTISM.
Speak with a living and creative flood This universal l']uglish, and do staucf Its ln-eathmg book; live worthy of that grand Heroic utterance parted, yet a Avhole,
1)3
Of the great Mother tongue, and ye shall be Lords of an empire wide as Shakespeare's soul. Sublime as Milton's immemorial theme, And rich as Chaucer's speech, and fair as Spenser's dream.
SYDNEY DOBELL.
OUR STATE.
The
its teeming cane. heavy grain, And sunset's radiant gales unfold On rising marts and sands of gold
south-land boasts
its
little
State
Her yellow sands are sands alone, Her only mines are ice and stone!
From autumn
Too long her winter woods complain; From budding flower to falling leaf, Her summer time is all too brief.
Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands.
And wintry hilb-;, the S( hool-house And what her rugged soil denies
Tlie harvest of the
stands;
mind
supplies.
94
POEMS OF NATIONAL
The Are
riches of the
free,
SPIRIT.
commonwealth
strong minds, and hearts of health; And more to her than gold or grain The cunning hand and cultured brain.
For well she keeps her ancient stock, The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock;
And And
still
maintains, with milder laws, clearer light, the good old cause!
sceptic's pun}' hands,
Nor
\A'hile
THE REPUBLIC.
FROM
'"
O Ship of State! Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears. With all the hopes of future years. Is hanging breathless on thy fate We know what Master laid thy keel. What ^yorkmen wrought thy ribs of steel. Who made each mast, and sail, and rope.
Tpiou, too, sail on,
Sail on,
What
anvils rang, what hammers beat. In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope
!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 'T is of the wave and not the rock
;
PATRIOTISM.
'T is but the
95
Happing
of the sail,
Aud
gale! uot 11 rent In spite of rock and tempest's roar, lu spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
made by the
our tears. hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our o'er fears, faith triumphant
all
with thee,are
IIEXRY
all
with thee!
WADSWOKTU LOXGFELLOW.
AMERICA.
[1833.J
My
country,
't
is
of thee,
Land
From
every mountain-side
My
Thy name
I
I love;
rills,
hills;
My
thrills
breeze,
And
the trees.
96
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Let mortal tongues awake, Let all that breathe partake, Let rocks their silence break,
Our fathers' God, to Thee, Author of liberty, To Thee I sing; Long may our laud be bright With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might.
''OLD IRONSIDES."
[On the proposed breaking up of the United States frigate "Constitution."]
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle-shout,
!
And
The meteor
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood And waves were white below, No more shall feel the vict rs tread,
Or know
the conquered knee:
PATRWTIfiM.
The harpies of the shore The eagle of the sea
!
97
shall pluck
Should siuk beneath the wave Her thuuders shook the mighty deep,
Aud
And
North and West, your might. Prepare, as the rebels have done,
of the
.
Men
Wake
For
in
the fight!
the test;
Men
of the
They have torn down your banner of stars; They have trampled the laws They have stifled the freedom they hate, For no cause!
;
Do you
Si.eak
!
love
it
or slavery best?
Men
of the
They
VIII
98
POEMfi OF NATIONAL
They cry
''
^^PtRIT.
"
:
We
are two
"
!
"
!
And you ?
to breast;
!
We
are one
You must meet them, then, breast On Men of the North and West
!
to scorn,
But
witli
swords
in
In your eyes!
Strike home! leave to
Strike!
God
all
the rest;
Men
of the
EIGIIAKD
HENEY STODDARD.
Lay down
Leave
the axe, fling l>y the spade; in its track the toiling plough;
The rifle and the bayonet-blade For arms like yours were fitter now; And let the hands that ply the pen Quit the light task, and learn to wield The horseman's crooked brand, and rein The charger on the battle-field.
the green;
sway
That Time in all his course has seen. see See, from a thousand coverts her track; the armed foes that haunt Spi-iug rush to her nnd we smite down, They Must beat the banded traitors back.
PATRIOTI^^r.
IIo
!
99
^-e
cleave,
And moved as soon to fear and tlight, Men of the glade and forest! leave
Your woodcraft for the field of fight. The arms that wield the axe must pour
An iron tempest on the foe; His serried ranks shall reel before The arm that lays the panther low.
And ye who By grassy
breast the mountain storm
steep or highland lake, Come, for the land ye love, to form A bulwark that no foe can break.
own grav clifi's that mock The whirlwind; stand in her defence: The blast as soon shall move the rock. As rushing squadrons bear ye thence.
Stand, like vour
And
ye whose homes are by her grand Swift rivers, rising far away.
the depth of her green land
Come from
As mighty in your march as they; As teri'ible as when the rains Have swelled them over bank and bourne, With sudden Hoods to dro\\ n the plains
And
And
ye
woods uptorn.
who throng
tlic
Her
i)orts
In nuiiibcr likr
leap
long-murmuring marge of sand, Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim, Ht rises, all his Hoods to pour.
Ills
On
100
POEMS OF NATIONAL
flings the
SPIRIT.
And
helpless
Few, few were they whose swords of old Won the fair land in which we dwell;
But we are many, we who hold The grim resolve to guard it well. Strike for that broad and goodly land, Blow after blow, till men shall see That Might and Right move hand in hand, And Glorious must their triumph be. "WILLI^JI CULLEN BBYANT
A CRY TO ARMS.
[1861.]
Ho, woodsmen of the mountain-side! Ho, dwellers in the vales! Ho, ye who b}' the chafing tide Have roughened in the gales! Leave barn and byre, leave kin and
cot,
Lay by the bloodless spade; Let desk and case and counter
rot.
books of trade!
fairest lands;
And
till
he
flies
or fears.
Your fields must grow but armed bands. Your sheaves be sheaves of spears!
Give up to mildew and to rust
useless tools of gain, feed your country's sacred dust With floods of crimson rain!
The
And
PATRIOTISM.
the weapous at your call ^Vitll musket, pike, or kuife; He wields the deadliest, blade of all
Avitli
101
Come
^yho
ligiitest
holds
fiis life.
The arm that drives its unbought blows With all a patriot's scorn,
Might brain a tyrant with a rose
thorn.
Does any falter? Let him turn To some brave maiden's eyes, And catch the holy fires that burn
In those sublunar skies. Oh, could you like your women feel, And in their spirit march, A day might see your lines of steel Beneath the victor's arch!
AYliat hope,
O God! would not grow warm \Vhen thoughts like these give cheer? The lily calmly braves the storm,
And
shall the palm-tree fear?
Ko! rather let its branches court The rack that sweeps the plain;
And from the lily's regal port Learn how to breast the strain.
Ho, woodsmen
(.)f
the mountain-side!
I
102
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Come, flocking gayly
SPIRIT.
to the fight,
From
forest, hill,
We
and lake;
And
HENRY TIMROD.
From
Treason's rage!
In faith we look to Thee, Our strength in Heav'n we Defender of the free. In ev'ry age.
II.
see,
Our
follies
we
confess:
God, forgive and bless! Let Mercy's light Illumine this dark hour.
clouds o'er us lower,
!
Our Pilgrim
fathers sleep,
When
PATRIOTISM.
To crowns
in Paradise
soil of slaves!
IV.
103
From
And when
Strike
In freedom's name,
low,
In deathless shame!
skies,
free!
And
children
Thy fame
The
jubilee!
CRAMMONU KENNEDY.
MY MARYLAND.
[18G1.]
The
Maryland!
His torch
is
Maryland
Avenge the palriolic gore That fleck<Ml llie streets of I'.altimore, And be the battle <|U('('ii of yore,
Maryland,
My Maryland
W4:
mother State, to thee I kneel, Maryland For life and death, for woe and weal.
My
Thy
And
Maryland,
My
Maryland!
Thou
Maryland
Maryland
Maryland,
My
Maryland!
Come,
't is
the red
dawn
of the day,
!
Marvland
panoplied array,
Maryland
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray. With ^Vatsou's blood at Monterey, With fearless Lowe and dashing May,
Maryland,
My
Maryland!
call in vain,
!
Maryland
She meets her
" " Sic semper
!
sisters
't is
on the plain
PATRTOTISM.
That
baffles
105
Marylaud,
My
Maryland!
is
Come, for
lliy
shield
Maryland
Come
to thine
own
heroic throng.
to thy song,
liberty along,
And
give a
new key
Maryland,
I see the blush
My
Maryland!
Maryland
From
Potomac
Chesapeake,
Maryland,
My
Maryland!
toll,
Thou
Thou
Maryland
Maryland upon thee roll,
Better the
fire
Than
Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, crucifixion of the soul,
^Maryland, 'Mx Maryland!
I hear the distant
thunder hum,
The Old
Line's bugle,
106
POE}W OF NATIONAL
is
SPIRIT.
She
dumb
;
!
Huzza she spurns the Northern scum S]ie breathes, she burns she '11 come come
she
'11
Maryland,
My
DIXIE.
[1861.]
Southrons, hear your country call you Up, lest worse than death befall you To arms! To arms! To arms, in Dixie! Lo! all the beacon-fires are lighted,
! !
Let
all
hearts be
!
now
!
united!
!
To arms To arms To arms, in Dixie Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah hurrah For Dixie's land Ave take our stand,
! !
And
Dixie!
!
To arms
To arms
To arms
And conquer
To arms
!
And conquer
stamp
Lift
PATRIOTISM.
Shoulder pressing close tQ shoulder, Let the odds make each heart bolder
107
How
At For
Wrongs
spoken.
Strong as
Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! Cut the unequal bonds asunder! Let them hence each other plunder!
work
is
completed.
Halt not
Secures
till
our Federation
earth's powers its station
!
among
Then at peace, and crowned with glory. Hear vour children tell the storv!
If the loved
To arms! Exultant pride soon banish sorrow, Smiles chase tears away to-morrow. To arms, in Dixie! To arms! To arms
I
Advance the flag of Dixie! Hurrah hurrah For Dixie's land we take our stand,
I !
108
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And
live or die for Dixie!
SPIRIT.
To arms
To arms To arms
And conquer
To arms
!
And
BY.
Along the
street there
comes
A A
is
passing by
Blue and crimson and white it shines, Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. Hats off
!
The colors before us fly; But more than the flag is passing
by.
Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, Fought to make and to save the State
:
To ward her
jjeople
PATRIOTISM.
Pride and glory and honor, all Live in the colors to stand or fall.
109
Hats
off!
Along the
street there
comes
:
blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; And loyal hearts are beating high
is
i^assing by
The while beneath her drooping lash One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles. Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And Fame shall never know her story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As e'er bedewed the field of glory
!
The wife who girds her husband's sword^ Mid little ones who weep or wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering What though her heart be rent Doomed nightly in her dreams to
The bolts of death around him Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er
word.
asunder, hear
rattle,
Was
field of battle!
The mother who conceals her grief While to her breast her son she
presses,
110
To laiow the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod Received on Freedom's field of honor
!
II.
FREEDOM.
THE PLACE WHERE MAN SHOULD
DIE.
How
little
recks
it
where men
lie,
Wlu'u once the moment's past In which the dim and <lazing e.ye Has looked on earth its last, Whether beneath the sculptured urn The collined form shall rest, Or in its nakedness return
Back
Death
is
As
different
And
at his
common friend or foe, men may hold, summons each must go.
;
The timid and the hold But when (he spiiil, free and warm.
Deserts
it,
as
it
must.
the lifeless form
dust?
TIh' soldier
f;ills
rpon
(1m' b;itlle-pl;lin,
lU
112
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Where
SPIRIT.
Above the mangled slain; But though his corse be grim to see, Hoof -trampled on the sod, What recks it, when the spirit free
Has soared
aloft to
God?
close
Upon
And
his
downy
When
Go strip his coflfln-lid away. And see him in his grave! &^
'T were sweet, indeed, to close our ejes, With those we cherish near.
fall
And, wafted upwards b}' their sighs. Soar to some calmer sphere. But whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van, The fittest place where man can die Is where he dies for man
!
LIBERTY.
What man
''
is
Thus, and thus only, would I have the Sea "? For whether lying calm and beautiful, Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back
FREEDOM.
The smile of Heavcu from waves of amethyst; Or whether, freshened by the busy wiuds, It bears the trade and navies of the world To ends of use or stern activity Or whether, lashed by tempests, it gives way To elemental fury, howls and roars At all its rockv barriers, in wild lust Of ruin drinks the blood of living things.
;
113
And
shore,
it is
strews
its
wrecks
o'er
leagues of desolate
Always
Before
its
the Sea, and men bow down vast and varied majesty.
So
all in
To set the metes and bounds of Liberty. For Freedom is its own eternal law It makes its own conditions, and in storm Or calm alike fulfils the unerring Will. Let us not then despise it when it lies Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm
:
Of gnat-like
Nor doubt
round its head; mad, disjointed times It shakes the torch of terror, and its cry Shrills o'er the quaking earth, and in the flame Of riot and war we see its awful form Rise by the scaffold, where the crimson axe
evils hover
it
when
in
Rings down
kings.
its
For ever
in thine eyes,
Liberty,
Shines that high light whereby the world is saved. And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee!
VIII
JOHN HAY.
114
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
PATIENCE.
FROM
'^''
POEMS OF FREEDOM/^
Be
Listen tliere
how
noiselessly the
germ
o'
the seed
has birth;
How
noiselessly
and gently
it
upheaves
its little
way
Till it parts the scarcely-broken
O be patient! the germs of mighty thought Must have their silent undergrowth, must underground be wrought; But, as sure as ever there 's a Power that makes
Be
patient,
Our land
the grass appear, shall be green with Liberty, the bladetime shall be here.
!
O be patient go and watch the wheatears grow. So imperceptibly that ye can mark nor change nor
Be
patient,
throe
Day
after day,
till
the ear
is
fully
grown
And
Be
till
the ripened
brown.
be patient! though yet our hopes
patient,
are green,
FREEDOM.
The
harvest-field
115
shall
of
Freedom
be crowned
Be
Here
ground
Was
up
Unsown, and die uugathered. It is sweet To linger here, among the flitting birds,
And
leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds That shake the leaves, and scatter, as they pass, A fragrance from the cedars, thickly set
With
i>ale
shades
blue
berries.
In
these
peaceful
Peaceful, unpruned, immeasurably old ^ly thoughts go up the long dim i)ath of years, Back to the earliest davs of libertv.
Oh Freedom thou
!
fair
young
girl,
And wavy
tresses gushing
When
Armed
he took
the gyves. A bearded man. to the teeth, art thou; one mailed hand
off
116
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee;
life
And
Merciless power has dug thy dungeon deep, his swart armorers, by a thousand fires,
yet, w^hile
he deems thee
As springs
And
Thy
terribly thou springest forth. the flame above a burning pile. shoutest to the nations, who return
:
flies.
Thy birthright was not given by human hands: Thou wert twin-born with man. In pleasant
fields,
^YhiIe yet our race was few, thou sat'st with him, To tend the quiet flock and watch the stars,
And
Thou by his side, amid the tangled wood, Didst war upon the panther and the wolf, His only foes; and thou with him didst draw The earliest furrows on the mountain side.
Soft with the deluge. Tyranny himself. Thy enemy, although of reverend look, Hoary with many years, and far obeyed,
Is later born than thou;
and as he meets
iHCJAiAS campb?:ll
FREEDOM,
The grave defiance of tliiue elder eye, The usurper trembles in his fastnesses.
lir
shall fade into a feebler age; Feebior, yet subtler. He shall weave his snares, And spring them on thy careless steps, aud clap
Thou But he
sbalt
wax
His withered hands, and from their ambush call His hordes to fall upon thee. He shall send Quaint maskers, forms of fair and gallant mien. To catch thy gaze, and uttering graceful words To charm thy ear; while his sly imps, by stealth. Twine around thee threads of steel, light thread on thread. That grow to fetters; or bind down thy arms With chains concealed in chaplets. Oh! not yet May'st thou unbrace thy corselet, nor lay by Th}' sword; nor yet, O Freedom! close thy lids
In slumber; for thine enemy never sleeps, And thou must watch and combat till the day Of the new earth and heaven. But wouldst thou
rest
Awhile from tumult and the frauds of men. These old and friendly solitudes invite
Thy visit. They, while yet the forest trees Were young upon the unviolated earth,
And
yot the moss-stains on tlie rock were new. Beheld thy glorious childhood, and rejoiced. VnLLIAJr CULLEN BRYANT.
lis
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
HALLOWED GROUND.
What^s hallowed ground?
Its
By man,
Erect and
's
missed.
The lips repose our love has kissed; But Where's their memory's mansion? Yon churchyard's bowers? No! in ourselves their souls exist,
Is
't
part of ours.
ground
:
Where mated
wound,
down
to earth's profound.
!
And up
to heaven
For time makes all but true love old; The burning thoughts that then were told
In Lethe's pool.
FREEDOM.
What hallows ground where
'T
is
119
heroes sleep? not the sculptured piles you heap! In dews that heavens far distant weep
Their turf
nia,v
bloom;
Uut strew his ashes to the wind sword or voice has served mankind, And is he dead, whose glorious mind
^^'hose
To
live in
Is
't
death to
fall for
Freedom's right?
!
He 's dead alone that lacks her light And murder sullies in heaven's sight
The sword he draws:
What
Give that,
Her drums, and rend heaven's reeking space! The colors planted face to face, The charging cheer,
Though Death's pale horse lead on the
Shall
still
chase,
be dear.
And
place our tro]hies where men kneel To Heaven! but Heaven rebukes my zeal! The cause of Truth and human weal, O God above
Transfer
120
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Peace, Love! the cherubim, that join Their sin'ead wings o'er Devotion's shrine,
Where they
are not,
And pompous
That man can bless one pile of dust With chime or chant.
thee,
man!
I
But there
's
A
Thy
temple given
dare not ban,
!
spirit's feeling.
And God
Make
himself to
man
revealing.
The harmonious spheres music, though unheard their pealing By mortal ears.
Fair stars! are not your beings pure? sin, can death, your worlds obscure? Else why so swell the thoughts at your
Can
Aspect above?
FREEDOM.
Ye must
bo heavens that
love
!
121
make us sure
Of heaveuly
And
I
in
read the
doom
of distant time;
That man's regenerate soul from crime Shall yet be drawn. And reason on his mortal clime Immortal dawn.
What
Peace
's
hallowed ground?
Inde])endence
!
T
!
is
what
!
To sacred thoughts
!
in souls of
worth
gives birth
Truth
go forth
I'^arth's
compass round;
And yonr
liigh-priesthood shall
make earth
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
No human
mortal owns.
Upon
But then he
And
well the
To save from
wolfish table
tight.
122
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
So then in civil conversation The wolf expressed bis admiration Of Tray's fine case. Said Trav
"
politely,
;
Yourself, good sir, may be as sigbtly Quit but the woods, advised by me:
For all your fellows here, I see. Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt,
On
then with me, and share equal terms our princely fare."
"
Come
Has one
do? "
Inquires the wolf. Light work indeed," Replies the dog: "you only need
To bark a little now and then, To chase ofi' duns and beggar-men, To fawn on friends that come or go Your master please, and so forth
;
forth.
The wolf, by force of appetite. Accepts the terms outright. Tears glistened in his eyes;
A
"
"What's that?"
a speck."
speck?
ay
't is
me:
FREEDOM.
Perliai>s the collar's
123
me."
"
Chaiu chain you What lun you uot, thou, Just where you please and when?" "Not always, sir; but what of that?"
I
"
Enough
It
Which could to servile chaius entice; For me, I '11 shun them while I 've wit." So ran Sir \\'olf, and ruuueth vet.
From
the French of .;E
AX
1)E
Translation of
UIENZI.^^
FUIENUS!
come not here to talk. Ye kuow too well The story of our thraldom. We are slaves! Th(> bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves he sets, and his last beam Falls on a slave! Not such as, swept along
I
!
slaves to a horde
(H petty tyrants, feudal despots; lords Hieh in some d(zen ]altrv villages, Strong in some hundred sjiearnien, only great In that strange spell, a name! ICach hour, dark
fr;ui(l,
<ii-
murder,
this verv
dav
124
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
honest man, my neighbor {pointing to Paolo), there he stands, Was struck struck like a dog by one who wore
An
lie tossed not high his ready cap in air, Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts.
At
Be we men, sight of that great ruffian suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not The stain away in blood? Such shames are com!
And
mon.
I
I,
Full of
Of sweet and quiet joy there was the look Of Heaven upon his face which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy! younger by fifteen years, Brother at once and son He left my side A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile
!
lips.
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! The corse, the mangled corse, and then For vengeance! Kouse ye, Romans!
slaves
!
saw
Eouse
ye,
I cried
Look
fair
in
To To
see
see
live, torn from your arms, distained. Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash Yet this is Rome,
!
them them
die!
Have ve
daughters?
Look
That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world Yet we are Romans
! !
Why,
Roman
FREEDOM.
Was
greater than a king! And once again Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
125
Of either lirutus! once again, I swear, The eternal city shall be free her sous shall walk
;
with princes.
FALLEN GREECE.
FROM
Climb
'"'THE
GIAOUR.^'
Whose
That
^ay,
is
not
tliis
lave,
Pronounce what sea, what shore The gulf, the rock of Salamis!
;
is
this?
These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own Snatcli from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires;
And
he
who
name
of fear
That TyraDoy
shall
quake to hear,
And
They too will rather die than shame; For Freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeathed by bleeding
sire to son,
12G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
many
a deatliless age:
liid,
Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land There points thy Muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die 'T were long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from splendor to disgrace: Enough, no foreign foe could quell Thy soul, till from itself it fell Yes self-abasement paved the way
!
!
To
villain-bonds
What can he tell who treads thy shore? No legend of thine olden time. No theme on which the Muse might soar, High as thine own in days of yore. When man was worthy of thy clime.
The hearts within thy valleys bred. The fiery souls that might have led
Now
to deeds sublime, crawl from cradle to the grave. Slaves nay, the bondsmen of a slave.
Thy sons
And
LOED BYKOBT.
FREEDOM.
127
GREECE ENSLAVED.
FROM
'"''CIIILDE
HAROLD/^ CANTO
II.
relic of
departed worth!
though
!
no
more;
though
fallen,
great
And long-accustomed bondage uncreate? Not such thy sous who whilom did await,
The hopeless warriors
In bleak
O,
of a willing doom.
Theri'.iopylaj's
sepulchral strait,
who
tomb ?
Spirit of
Thou
sat'st
beauties of thine Attic plain? thirt}' tyrants now enforce the chain, every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
rise th}- sons,
but idly
rail in vain.
From
birth
till
in deed,
unmanned.
In all save form alone, how changed and who That marks the fire still spai-kling in each eye, Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
!
128
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
I
With thy unquenclied beam, lost Liberty And many dream withal the hour is nigh That gives them back their fathers' heritage; For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh, Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage, Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.
Hereditarv bondsmen
know
ve not,
Who
By
would be blow?
their
free themselves
must
strike the
right
?
wrought
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No! True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But not for you will Freedom's altars flame.
Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe! Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still the same
;
Thy
glorious day
is
o'er,
shame
And
Thy
yet
Land
how lovely in thine age of woe, of lost gods and godlike men, art thou! vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow.
Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow. Commingling slowl}' with heroic earth, Broke by the share of every rustic plough So perish monuments of mortal birth. So perish all in turn, save well-recorded worth;
:
FREEDOM.
Save where some solitary column mourns
129
Above
its
Save where Tritonia's airy shrine adorns Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; Save o'er some warrior's ha If -forgotten grave,
the gray stones and long-neglected grass but not oblivion, feebly brave. Ages, While strangers only not regardless pass,
Where
Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild, Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy
fields.
Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled. And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus
vields;
of thy
mountain
air;
thy long, long summer gilds, in his beam Mondeli's marbles glare:
fail,
but Nature
still is fair.
Where'er we tread,
't is
No
earth of thine
is lost in
of
the Muse's tales seem truly told. Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
all
And
earliest
dale, each
130
POEMS OF NATIONAL
gone
thon.
:
SPIRIT.
Defies the
The
isles of
Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sj)rung! Eternal summer gilds them yet;
But
all,
is set.
The Scian and the Teian muse. The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse; Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' Islands of the Blest.
And ^larathon looks on the sea And musing there an hour alone,
I
still
be free;
For, standing on tlie Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
A king
Which
FREEDOM.
And sliips. by tliousauds, lay below, And iiKMi iu nations all were his! He counted them at break of day And when the sun set, where were they?
-
131
And where
My
country?
The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine. Degenerate into hands like mine?
'T
is
something
in the
Though To feel at least a patriot's shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face; For what is left the poet here? For Greeks a blush for Greece a tear.
linked
Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush? Our fathers bled.
Earth render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead Of the three hundred grant but three,
! !
What:
silent still?
Ah
no!
the
and
silent all?
Sound
like
a distant torrent's
And
But
'T
is
answer,
one, arise
132
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
In vain,
SPIRIT.
in
And
Hark!
How
is
Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one?
You have
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! will not think of themes like these
We
He
It
divine
Were
The tyrant
of the Chersonese
Was
O that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind Such chains as his were sure to bind.
!
On
Suli's rock
FREEDOM.
And there perhaps some seed is sown The Heracleidan blood might own.
Trust not for freedom to the Franks, Thev have a king who buys and sells: In native swords, and native ranks,
133
The only hope of courage dwells; But Turkish force, and Latin fraud. Would break your shield, however broad.
Fill high the
virgins dance beneath the shade, I see their glorious black eyes shine;
Our
My own
Place
To think such
me on Suniuni's marbled steep. Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die.
LORD BYRON.
When
To
And my divine
iil
my
grates;
When And
lie
134
POEMS OF NATIONAL
The birds that wanton
SPIRIT.
in tlie air
Know
When
no such
liberty.
With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses crowned, Our hearts with loyal flames When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
;
When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple iu the deep Know no such liberty.
When, like committed linnets, I With shriller throat shall sing The mercy, sweetness, majesty
And glories of my King; When I shall voice aloud, how good He is, how great should be.
Enlarged winds that curl the flood Know no such liberty.
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor
If I
have freedom
in
in
And
my
soul
my love, am free.
FKEEDOM.
135
SLAVERY.
FROM "THE TIMEPIECE
"
:
"THE TASK,"
BK.
II.
is filled.
no flush
Of brotherhood is served as the flax, That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He
Not colored like his own, and, having power To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful ])rey. Lands intersected by a narrow frith Abhor each other. Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
his brother,
all, niid
As human
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat ^^'ijll shipes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, ^\'('('ps, when she sees iullided on a beast.
is man? And having hnman And hang his head,
Then what
seeing this.
man?
136
I
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
to
till
SPIRIT.
groimd,
the wealth
my
all
To carry
me
while
sleep,
And
tremble when
wake, for
That sinews bought and sold have ever earned. No; dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation prized above
I
all price,
had much rather be myself the slave, And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. We have no slaves at home. Then why abroad?
they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free They touch our country, and their shackles fall. That 's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
;
And
And And
jealous of the blessing, Spread it then, let it circulate through every vein Of all your empire; that, where Britain's power
Is felt,
mankind may
feel
true.
shall
understand
What Cornish
vVILLIAM C()WPP:R
FREEDOM.
And have they fixed the where and when, And sliall Trelawney die? Then twenty thousand Cornish men Will know the reason why.
What! ulU they scorn
Tre, Pol,
137
and Pen?
And
Will
shall
Trelawney die?
the reason why.
know
Out spake the captain brave and bold, A merry v,-iglit was he ''Though London's Tower were ^Michael's
:
hold,
We We
'11
set
Trelawney
free.
'11
cross the
Tamar hand
to hand,
no stay; We '11 side by side from strand to strand, And who shall bid us nay? What! will they scorn Tre, Pol, and Pen?
shall be
The Exe
And
And
wlipu
'11
we come
it
to
London wall
!
We
'
shout with
forth,
in view,
Come
come
We 're
better
Trelawney, he
's in keep and hold, he Trelawney, may die; But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold Will know the reason why!'
What!
And
Then
will they scorn Tre, Pol, shall Trelairney die? twenty thou.'iand under
and Pen?
yround
Will
know
138
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Now
And
Now
hearts that once beat high for praise feel that pulse no more
!
No more
to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
THOMAS MOORE.
vanquished chief expiring lay, Upon the sands, with broken sword,
He traced his farewell to the free And there the last unfinished word He dying wrote was " Liberty "
!
FREEDOM.
:
139
At night a sea-bird shrieked the knell Of him who thus for freedom fell The words he wrote, ere evening came, Were covered by the sounding sea; So pass away the cause and name Of him who dies for liberty THOMAS MOORE.
When
'Mid vine-clad vales of Switzerland, She sought the glorious Alps of heaven. And there, 'mid dills by lightnings riven,
And still outrings her freedom-song. Amid the glaciers sparkling there,
At Sabbath bell, as peasants throng Their mountain fastnesses along,
Happy, and
free as air.
hills were made for freedom they Break at a breath the tyrant's rod; Chains clank in valleys; there the prey
The
bow
to
none
()ut
Ood!
140
POEM 8 OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
SWITZERLAND.
FROM
"
WILLIAM TELL."
free
hills,
With what a
It
And bless God that it was so From end to end, from cliff to
lake
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, And plough our valleys, without asking leave; Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow In very presence of the regal sun!
How
happy was
in
it
then!
loved
Ay, often have I sat In my boat at night, when, midway o'er the lake, The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge The wind came roaring, I have sat and eyed The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, And think I had no master save his own
Its very storms.
Make way for Liberty " ^he Made way for Liberty, and died
"
! ! !
cried
FREEDOM.
A A
rampart
all
141
assaults to bear,
Till
time to dust their frames should wear; wood like that enchanted grove
In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, AVhere every silent tree possessed
Which Would
the
first
So dense, so
xVll
Whose polished i>oints before them shine, From tiank to Hank, one brilliant line.
Bright as the breakers' splendors run
to the sun.
Opposed to these, a hovering band Contended for their native land Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
:
From manly nocks the ignoble yoke, And forged their fetters into swords. On equal terms to fight their lords. And what insurgent rage had gained In many a mortal fray maintained:
Marshalled once more at Freedom's
call.
They came
to conquer or to fall,
Where he who conquered, he who fell, W;is deemed a dead, or living, Tell! Such virtues had that i)atriot breathed,
So to the soil his soul bequeathed. That wheresoe'er his arrows Hew
Ileroes in his
own
likeness grew,
142
'P0E3LS
OF NATIONAL SPIRIT.
trod.
And
Which
awakening footstep
of life
and death
;
of a breath
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, Point for attack was nowhere found
;
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. The unbroken line of lances blazed: That line 't were suicide to meet,
And
How
And
perish at their tyrants' feet, could they rest within their graves. leave their homes the homes of slaves?
feel their children tread
Would^they not
their
head?
It must not be: this day, this hour. Annihilates the oppressor's power; All Switzerland is in the field, She will not fly, she cannot yield,
She must not fall her better fate Here gives her an immortal date. Few were the numbers she could boast; But every freeman was a host, And felt as though himself were he On whose sole arm hung victory.
;
It did depend on one indeed; Behold him, Arnold Winkelried! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name.
FREEDOM.
Unmarked he stood amid
In rumination deep and
Till
143
the tlirong,
lonj.
yon
b.v
mijj;lit see,
And
And
by the ui)lifting of his brow Tell where the bolt \\ ould strike, and how.
But 't was no sooner thought than done, The field was in a moment won
:
"
Make way
ran, with
if
for Liberty
"
!
he cried.
Then
As
Make way
for Liberty
''
!
he ciied
Their keen points met from side to side; He bowed amongst them like a tree.
And
thus made
way
for LilxMty.
fly;
Make way
for
Liberty
"
!
they cry,
And through
As rushed
An
A
Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus Death made way for Liberty!
JAMKS MONTGOMKKY.
144
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
POLAND.
FROM
"
1.
SACRED Truth
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, When leagued Oppression poured to Northern
wars
fierce hussars, her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet
Waved
horn
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland and to man Warsaw's last champion from her height
sur-
Wide
"
fields,
O Heaven
save
!
"
!
Is there
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains. Else, fellow-men our country yet remains!
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high. And swear for her to live with her to die! " He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze,
And
notes, omnipotent to charm. the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm!
FREEDOM.
From rank
Sarmatia
145
In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! to rank your volleyed thunder flew: bloodiest O, picture in the book of Time!
fell,
a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! Droi)ped from her nerveless grasp the shattered
spear.
Found not
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career; Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom
shrieked
as Kosciusko
fell!
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
THE MARSEILLAISE.
sons of freedom, wake to glory! Hark hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary,
I
Ye
With
While peace and liberty lie bleeding? To arms! to arms! ye brave! The avenging sword unsheathe; March on! march on! all hearts resolved
On
victory or death.
Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling. Which treacherous kings confederate raise;
The dogs of war,
let loose,
aie howling.
And
VIII
lo!
10
cities blaze;
146
POEMS OF NATIONAL
shall
SPIRIT.
And
we
force, with guilty stride, Spreads desolation far and wide. With crimes and blood his hands imbruing?
While lawless
To arms
to
arms ye
!
brave, etc.
Liberty! can
man
felt
resign thee,
Once having
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee? Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept, bewailing That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield, But freedom is our sword and shield,
And
From
all their
To arms
the Freuch of
to
LISLE.
A COURT LADY.
Her
Her
hair
and
rest-
in
name and
in
in the face.
Larger
in
judgment and
life.
instinct,
prouder in man-
ners and
w h O o z I
CO
CO Pi CO Pi
CO
o X h <
FREEDOM.
She stood
in the eai-ly
'*
147
maidens, Bring That si liven robe made ready to wear at the court
of the king.
"
lucid, clear
Clas})
me the large at the waist, and clasp the small at the throat.
to fasten the hair,
me
"
Diamonds
and diamonds to
Laces to drop from their rays, like a powder of snow from the eaves."
u] in
a tlame,
straight, in her
hospital came.
is
the
place of a friend."
Up
she passed through the wards, and stood at a young man's bod
:
livid the
droop
"Art thou
thou
"
!
Lombard,
my
brother?
Happy
in
art
she cried.
And
dreamed
her
148
POEMS OF NATIONAL
:
SPIRIT.
Pale with bis passing soul, she went on still to a second He was a grave, hard man, whose years by dungeons were reckoned.
Wounds
in his body were sore, wounds in his life were sorer. "Art thou a Romagnoie? " Her eyes drove light-
and
priest
free
by the
stroke of a sword.
"
Now
life
To
ripen our wine of the present (too new) glooms of the past."
in
Down
like a girl's,
Art thou from Tuscany, brother? and seest thou, dreaming in i)ain, Thy mother stand in the piazza, searching the list
of the slain?"
a mother herself, she touched his cheeks with her hands " Blessed is she who has borne thee, although she should weep as she stands."
:
Kind as
FREEDOM.
On
she passed to a Fi-eucliman, his
off
149
arm
carried
by a ball
.
.
Kneeling,
shall
"
I
my
brother!
how
Each
of the heroes
line,
land and
Hapjty are
possessed
Ever she passed on her way, and came to a couch where pined One with a face from Venetia, white with a hope
out of mind.
tried at
all
that faltered
she turned as
and kissed
in passion
And
it,
as
if
she
"And
dost thou
150
POEIihS
bis
OF NATIONAL
in bers:
.SPIRIT.
of tbe Pied-
Holding
bands
"Out
!
of freedom
sweetest to live
Well, O, well Holding bis cold, rougb bands, bave je done In noble, noble Piedmont, W'bo would not be noble
alone."
''
Back be
feet
Sbe rose to ber fell wbile sbe spoke. witb a spring, " Tbat was a Piedmontese! and tins is tbe Court
of tbe King."
And
bung dark and waters o'er. When a band of exiles moored tbeir bark
tbe beavy night
hills
The
On
the wild
New England
shore.
Not as the conqueror comes. They, tbe true-hearted, came; Not witb tbe roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame
:
FREEDOM.
Not as the
flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom
151
With
their
hymns
of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the
sea
And
his nest by the white wave's foam, rocking pines of the forest roared,
Whv
Amidst that pilgrim-band: had thev come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land?
And
What sought
l>i-ight
they thus afar? jewels of the mine? The wealth of the seas, the si)oils of
war?
They sought
Ay.
call
it
holy ground,
lii'st they trod; what there they found, unstained They Freedom to worshij) God.
The
soil
wIhmc
liiivc left
FELICIA HEMANS.
152
POEHW OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
And
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies.
striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light;
And
Then, from his mansion in the sun. She called her eagle-bearer down,
And
gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land
!
Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear'st aloft thy regal form. To hear the tempest trumping loud. And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,
Child of the Sun to thee 't is given To guard the banner of the free.
!
And
bid its blendings shine afar. Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers
of victory
Flag of the brave thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high
!
FREEDOM.
When speaks And the long
Ere jet the
the sigual-truuipet tone,
line
153
Has dimmed
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn, And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when
Heave
in
And
wild wreaths the battle shroud. gory sabres rise and fall
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow. And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy
\A
stars shall glitter o'er the brave; hen death, careering on the gale,
And
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's
Shall look at once to heaven and thee. And smile to see thy sjdendors fly
Flag of the
free heart's
angel hands to valor given! have lit the welkin dome. stars Thy And all thv hues were born in heaven.
By
154
POSJ/*S'
OF l^'ATIONAL
f'PIRIT.
I
Forever
float that
standard sheet
Where breathes the foe but falls With Freedom's soil beneath our
before us,
feet,
What
so proudly
gleaming
we
Whose broad
stripes
and bright
stars,
through the
so gallantly
in
we watched, were
streaming!
And
bombs bursting
flag
was
there;
say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the
!
brave ?
On
Where
re-
poses.
What
As
*
it
steep.
fitfully blows,
cliiriii,<r
now
conceals,
now
discloses?
attack on Fort McHenry, by a fiiritisli Begun fleet, wliicli on the niglit of Sept. 12, 1814, unsuccessfully bombarded tbat fort from llie Patapsco River; the author, an envoy from the city of flaltiinore, liaving heeu detained as a prisoner on the Heet.
tlie
FREE DOM.
Now
In
'T
it
155
lii-st
beam.
full gloi-y reflected
is
now
mav
it
wave
O'er the laud of the free, and the
home
of the
brave
is that band who so vauntingly swore havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps'
And where
That
tlie
pollution.
could save the hireling and slave terror of flight, or the gloom of the
wave
er the laud of the free,
brave
01 thus be it ever, wheu freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's
lation
I
deso-
Theu
cou<iU('i- wi'
And And
O'er
this be
llie
must, when our cause it is just, our moHj. "In (Jod is our tnist:" star-spangled banner in Iriunipli shall
wave
ilic
home
of (he
brave.
15G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
NEW ENGLAND'S
New
DEAD.
dead!
England's dead! New England's On every bill they lie; On every field of strife, made red By bloody victory.
Eacb
poured
rill,
holy where they fought, holy where they fell For by their blood that land was bought, The land they loved so well,
And
Then glory to that valiant band, The honored saviours of the land
O, few
and weak
their
A
But
numbers were,
;
handful of brave
to their
men
And
And
their prayer,
them the
victory.
They left the ploughshare in the mold, Their flocks and herds without a fold,
FREEDOM.
The sickle iu the unshorn grain, The corn, half-garnered, on the plain.
157
And
For wrongs to seek a stern redress. To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, To perish, or overcome their foe.
And where are ye, O fearless men? And where are ye to-day?
I call
:
the
hills rei>]y
again
That ye have passed away; That on old Bunker's lonely height. In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground. The grass grows green, the harvest bright Above each sohlier's mound. The bugle's wild and warlike blast Shall muster them no more; An army now might thunder past.
And
The starry
they heed not its roar. flag, 'neath which they fought In many a bloody day.
their old graves shall rouse thorn not,
From
THE REFOiniEn.
All grim and
T
soiled
saw
Strong One,
wrath,
man
Along
his path.
The Church beneath her trembling dome Essayed in vain her ghostly charm
:
158
Fraud from
his secret
chambers
fled
:
Before the sunlight bursting in Sloth drew her pillow o'er her head
To drown the
"
din,
" Spare," Art implored, yon holy pile That grand old time-worn turret spare "
;
:
Gray-bearded Use, who, deaf and blind, Groped for his old accustomed stone, Leaned on his staff, and wept to find His seat o'erthrown.
Young Romance
"
raised his
dreamy
eyes,
O'erhung with paly locks of gold.^ Why smite," he asked in sad surprise, ''The fair, the old?"
Yet louder rang the Strong One's stroke, Yet nearer flashed his axe's gleam; Shuddering and sick of heart I Avoke, As from a dream.
I
looked
The Waster seemed the Builder too Upspringing from the ruined Old I saw the New.
FREEDOM.
150
and
ill;
Wa
living
still.
Calm grew the brows of him 1 feared, The frown which awed me passed away,
And
left
The grain grew green on battle-plains, O'er swarded war-mounds grazed the cow The slave stood forging from his chains The spade and plough.
Where frowned the fort, pavilions gay And coltage windows, Hower-entwined,
Looked out upon the peaceful bay
And
hills behind.
Through vine-wi-eathed cups with wine once The lights on brimming crystal fell, Drawn, sparkling, from the rivulet head
red.
And
The young
child played.
in
his cell
Had
counted
o'ei-
100
POEMS OF NATIONAL
school-girls,
.SPIRIT.
bell,
Glad
answering to the
flowers.
know
That where the share is deepest driven The best fruits grow.
The outworn rite, the old abuse, The pious fraud transparent grown. The good held captive in the use Of wrong alone,
These wait their doom, from that great law Which makes the past time serve to-day;
And
draw
From
their decay.
The new is old, the old is new, The cycle of a change sublime
Still
sweeping through.
So wisely taught the Indian seer Destroying Seva, forming Brahm, Who wake by turn Earth's love and
;
fear,
Are
Idly as thou, in that old day Thou mournest, did thy sire repine; So, in his time, thy child grown gray
FREEDOM.
But life shall on and upward go; The eternal step of Progress beats To that great anthem, calm and slow,
IGl
Which God
I
repeats.
Take heart the Waster builds again, A charmed life old Goodness hath; The tares may perish, but the grain
God works
His
first
Wake
in all things; all obey projmlsion from the night thou and watch the world is gray
!
WIIITTIER.
confine,
And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze. And massive bolts may baffle his design.. And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways;
But scorns
the immortal
it
and no cell enclose. Swifter than light it files from pole to pole, And in a fiash from earth to heaven it goes. It leaps from mount to mount; from vale to vale It wanders, plucking honeyed fruits and
chains can l)ind
llowers;
It visits
No
home
to
And
'T
is
And
162
POEMS OF NATIONAL
THE PRESENT
SPIRIT.
CRISIS.
When
Runs
a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast
a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west, And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul
To
sublime
When
At
a recognizing
apart.
And
glad Truth's yet mightier man-child leaps beneath the P'uture's heart.
Evil's
chill,
So the
a
Under continent
ill.
coming
And
pathies with God In hot tear-drops ebbing earthward, to be dilmk up by the sod.
Till a
FREEDOM.
For
inaiikiiKl are
1G3
oue iu
spirit,
and au iusliuct
bears alouy;,
Kouud
tiie eartli's
Human-
frame
Through
its
of joy or shame; In the gain or loss of oue race all the rest have
equal claim.
Once
to every
man and
moment
good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight,
I'arls the goats u]ou the left hand,
upon the
right.
And
the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light. r^'
() my people, on whose party thou shall stand, Ere the Doom from its worn sandals shakes the
(lust
Though
is
Truth
:il<n(>
strong,
1
see
around
lier
tall
angels, to enshield
164
like peaks of some sunk continent, jut through Oblivion's sea; Not an ear in court or market for the low fore-
boding cry
Of those Crises, God's stern winnowers, from whose feet earth's chaff must fly; Never shows the choice momentous till the judgment hath passed by.
Careless seems the great Avenger; history's pages but record One death-grapple in the darkness 'twixt old sys-
tems and the Word; Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on
the throne, Yet that scaffold sways the Future, and, behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.
We
what
is
small and
Avhat
is
great.
Slow of faith, how weak an arm may turn the iron helm of fate, But the soul is still oracular; amid the market's
din.
List the
who make
FREEDOM.
I
brood,
165
Sons of brutish Force and Darkness, who have drenched the earth with blood. Famished in his self-made desert, blinded by our
I)urer day, Gro[es in yet unblasted regions for his miserable
prey
Shall
;
his gory fingers
we guide
children play?
Then
when we share
and
't is
profit,
pros-
perous to be just; Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside,
Doubting
cified.
Lord
is
cru-
And
the multitude
make
had denied.
Count me
they
were
souls that stood alone, While the men they agonized for hurled the con-
tumelious stone, Stood serene, and down the future saw the golden
Iteam incline
To
By one man's
jihiin
truth to
manhood and
to God's
supreme design.
166
POEMS OF NATIONAL
feet I truck,
SPIRIT.
By
Toiling up
new Calvaries
mounts
And
One
of anguish number how each learned generation new word of that grand Credo which in
these
prophet-hearts hath burned Since the first man stood God-conquered with his
face to heaven upturned.
On
Far
the
awe
To glean up
golden urn.
'T
is
as easy to be heroes as to
graves,
sit
make
the present
Was
men behind
their time?
Turn those tracks toward Past or Future, that make Plymouth rock sublime?
They were men
iconoclasts, of
FREEDOM.
Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that
the Past's;
all
167
virtue
was
But we make
that hath
Hoarding
it in
ten-
der spirits tiee The rude grasp of that Impulse which drove them across the sea.
altar-fires;
Shall
in
we make
Shall we,
From
To
the
funeral lamj)S away light up the martyr-fagots round the prophets of to-day?
New
occasions teach
new
duties;
Time makes
A\h<)
an-
still,
and onward,
would
we
ourselves
Nor
steer boldly through the desperate winter sea. allcmpt the Future's portal with the Past's
l)h)od-rusted key.
December, 1845.
1G8
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
As when, on Carmers
sterile Steep,
And
There came at last a little cloud. Scarce larger than the human hand, Spreading and swelling till it broke In showers on all the herbless land;
'
And
sear hills grew bright with flowers, verdure clothed the valley sod,
Even so our eyes have waited long; But now a little cloud appears, Si^reading and swelling as it glides
Onward
into the
coming years.
!
full soon.
Far stretching from the ocean strand, Thy glorious folds shall spread abroad,
.
* Arousing of
An ti-SIavfery
agitation,
'
when
it
was
pro-
Missouri Coinpi'oraise " posed in Congress to al)olish tlie and throw open the Territories to slavery if tlieir people should so vote.
FREEDOM.
Like the sweet lain on Judali's
hills,
109
shall fall,
arise,
As
at an angel's trum[>et-call.
Then shall a shout of jov go up, The wild, glad cry of freedom come
I^rom hearts long crushed by cruel hands,
And
And every bondman's chain be broke. And every soul that moves abroad
In this wide realm shall know and The blessed Liberty of God.
JOIIX
feel
aOWAKD BKYAXT.
BRO\yN OF 0>?SAWATOMIE.
John Brown
day
:
"I
But
will not
have to shrive
my
soul a priest in
Slavery's pay;
let
some
jioor
slave-mother
whom
have
striven to free. With her children, from the gallows-stair put " for
up
a prayer
me
John Brown
die;
of
And
lol a
child
pressed nigh STben the bold, blue eye grew tender, and the old harsh face grew mild.
170
POEMS OF NATIONAL
kissed the negro's child
!
SPIRIT.
and
As he stooped between
The shadows of
apart,
his
stormy
life
that
moment
fell
And
That
they
kiss
who blamed
;
from
all its
guilty
good
Long
live the
human
Not the raid of midnight terror, but the thought which underlies; Not the borderer's pride of daring, but the Christian's sacrifice.
I>lue
Nor
But
homes
flash
on the
passes scale,
To teach that right is more than might, and tice more than mail
!
jus-
So vainly shall Virginia set her battle in array; In vain her trampling squadrons knead the winter
snow with
clay!
FREEDOM.
;
171
She may strike the pouncing eagle, but she dares not harm the dove And every gate she bars to Hate shall oi^en wide to Love!
brave,
His soul
is
marching on.
!
Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah His soul is marching on.
I
He
He
He
Army
of the
Lord
is
sworn as a private
Lord,
in
the ranks of
the
shall stand at
Armageddon with
is
sword,
When Heaven
He
shall
file
marching on.
in
He
form Time with the column, and charge in the storm, Where men are marching on.
when
172
POEMS OF NATIONAL
!
SPIRIT.
Ah, foul Tyrants! do je hear him where he comes? Ah, black traitor do ye know him as he comes, In thunder of the cannon and roll of the drums, As we go marching on?
die,
die,
Shoulder to shoulder,
When Heaven
marching *&
on.
Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! His soul is marching on.
He
is
tramj)ling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift
He hath
sword
His truth
I
is
marching
on.
circling camps; They have builded him an altar dews and damps;
I
the evening
'
"''
can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on.
FREEDOM.
I
173
have read a
fiery gosx>el,
:
of steel
"
As ye
deal witli
my
grace Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on."
sliall
you
my
He He
men
before his
judgment-seat:
O, be swift,
my
feet
soul, to
I
my
Our God
is
marching on.
lilies
Christ
a glory in his
make men
free,
is
make
men
While God
marching on.
JULIA
WAKD HOWE.
brave man's part, without the statesman's tact. And, taking counsel but of common sense.
To
* Fremont's proclamation of martial law in Missouri, in August, LSOl, (iHclariiig free all slaves of Txfbcls, was re-
i,>y
tl>e
by President
Lincoln as premature.
174
POEMH OF NATIONAL
>SPIRIT.
O, never yet since Roland wound his horn At lloncesvtilles has a bhist been blown
Far-heard, wide-echoed, startling as thine own, Heard from the van of freedom's hope forlorn
It
had been
To flatter treason, and avoid offence To that Dark l'o\\'er whose underlying crime
Heaves upward
But,
if
The ground
years
for
truth's
seed,
or
forerun
their
lane for freedom through the level spears, Still take thou courage! God has spoken through
thee,
Be free! The land shakes with them, and the slave's dull ear Turns from the rice-swamp stealthily to hear. Who would recall them now must first arrest The winds that blow down from the free NorthIrrevocable, the mighty words.
west,
back
The ^Mississippi to its upper springs. Such words fulfil their prophecy, and lack But the full time to harden into things.
JOHN GREENLEAF WIIITTIER.
HEROES.
The winds
Have
that once the
l>y
is
Argo bore
died
And
her hull
Though shaped
FREEDOM.
You may
seek her crew on every isle Fair in the fonm of ^gean seas, But out of their rest no charm can wile
175
And Priam's
Iy
wail
II
is
heard no more
windy
'*
Nor
<;reat Achilles,
Shouts
ye
j>ods,
Hector
falls!
"
On
mount is the shinino; snow, Jove has j>()ne from its brow away; And red on the plain the ]oppies jirow Where the Greek and the Trojan fouj^ht that
hla's
l>ut
day.
Mother
dead?
years no
iiiore'.^
Do
they
Are the
gleamini;
is left
All that
Are there none to fight as Theseus fought. Far in the young world's misty dawn? Or teach as gray-haired Nestor taught? Mother Earth, are the heroes gone?
Gone? In a grander form they rise. Dead? \\'e may clasp their hands
And
in ours. catch the li^ht of tlieir clearer eyes. .\nd wreathe their brows with immortal flowers.
is
done,
the pulse of a hero's heart is stirred; ^^'heleveI Kiglit has a Iriuiiijili won,
Tiiere are the heroes' voices heard.
!l76
P0E3LS
OF"
NATIONAL
fiPIRIT.
Their armor rings on a fairer field Tliau the Greek and the Trojan fiercely trod; For Freedom's sword is the blade they wield, And the gleam above is the smile of God.
So, in his isle of calm delight, Jason may sleep the years away
live,
is
And
the world
bright,
to-day.
LAUS DEO!
[On hearing
tutional
Amendment
It
is
abolishing slavery.]
done!
Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down. How the belfries rock and reel How the great guns, peal on peal, Fling the joy from town to town!
!
Of the burial hour of crime. Loud and long, that all may hear. King for every listening ear Of Eternitv and Time!
Let us kneel God's own voice is in that peal. And this spot is holy ground. Lord, forgive us! What are we. That our eyes this glory see, That our ears have heard the sound!
:
FREEDOM.
For the Lord
177
On
I
the whirhvind
is
abroad
In the eaithquake he has spoken He has smitten with his thunder The iron walls asunder, And the gates of brass are broken
;
!
He
Did we dare,
In our agony of prayer, Ask for more than He has done?
^^'hen
was ever
his right
hand
the sun?
now beneath
How
they pale,
Ancient myth and song and tale, In this wonder of our days, When the cruel rod of war Blossoms white with righteous law. And the wrath of man is praise
I
Blotted out!
All within
and
all
about
Shall a fresher
life bt'giu;
12
178
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
It is done! In the circuit of the sun
SPIRIT.
Shall the sound thereof go forth. It shall bid the sad rejoice,
It shall give the dumb a voice. It shall belt with joy the earth
!
wing
!
With a sound
of broken chains,
He
reigns.
!
Who
alone
is
A HOLY NATION.
Let Liberty run onward with the
years,
And
break
The tyrant's harshness, the oppressor's sjtears; Bring ripened recompenses that shall make Supreme amends for sorrow's long arrears;
Drop holy benison on hearts that ache; Put clearer radiance into human eyes,
And
Clean natures coin pure statutes. Let us cleanse The hearts that beat within us; let us mow Clear to the roots our falseness and pretence, Tread down our rank ambitions, overthrow
of puffed self-consequence,
Plough, up our hideous thistles which do grov,' Faster than maize in May time, and strike dead The base infections our low greeds have bred.
RICHARD REALF.
in.
WAR.
BATTLE OF THE ANGELS.
FROM
" PARADISE LOST/'
BOOK
VI.
THE ARRAY.
forth the morn, arrayed in jiold Empyreal; from before her vanished night, Shot through with orient beams; when all the
Now went
Such as
in liiyhest heaven,
plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright, Chariots, and (laming arms, and fiery steeds. Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view.
The apostate
in
With (laming cherubim, and golden shields; Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now 'Twix( host and host but narrow space was left,
Presented stood
array
Of hideous length: before the cloudy van, On the rough edge of battle ere it joined,
179
180
Came
adamant and
gold.
THE CONFLICT.
Michael bid sound
The
archangel heaven
trumpet;
through
the
vast
of
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung Hosanna to the Highest nor stood at gaze The adverse legions, nor less hideous joinedThe horrid shock. Now storming fury rose, And clamor, such as heard in heaven till now Was never; arms on armor clashing brayed Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots raged dire was the noise Of conflict; overhead the dismal hiss
:
Of
fiery
And
darts in flaming volleys flew, flying vaulted either host with fire.
So under flery cojie together rushed Both battles main, with ruinous assault
And
inextinguishable rage. All heaven Resounded; and had earth been then, all earth
Had
Deeds of eternal fame for wide w^as spread That war, and various: sometimes on firm ground A standing fight, then, soaring on main wing. Tormented all the air; all air seemed then
Were
Conflicting
fire.
WAR.
Fortliwith (behold tlie excellence, the power Which (lod hath in his mighty angels placed!) Their arms awav threw, and to the hills
181
Of pleasures situate
in hill
and dale),
Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew, From their foundations loosening to and fro.
They plucked the seated hills, with all their load, Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops Uplifting bore them in their hands: amaze,
Be
sure,
and
^Mien coming towards them so dread they saw The bottom of the mountains upward turned, and on their heads Main promontories ilung, which in the air Came shadowing, and oppressed whole legions
.
. . .
armed
pain Implacable, and many a dolorous groan; Long struggling underneath, ere thev could wind Out of such prison, though si)irits of purest light,
Purest at
first,
now
The
arms
Betook them, and the neighboring hills uptore: So hills amid the air encountered hills. Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire, That iinderground the}' fought in dismal shade; Infernal noise! war seemed a civil game
To
heaped
182
POEMS OF NATIONAL
THE
VICTOR.
SPIRIT.
So spake the Son, aud iuto terror changed His conntenance too severe to be beheld, And full of wrath bent on his enemies.
At once the Four spread out theii starry wings With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs
Of his fierce chariot Of torrent floods, or
rolled, as
of a
impious foes Gloomy as night: under his burning wheels The steadfast empyrean shook througliout. All but the throne itself of God. Full soon Among them he arrived in his right hand Grasping ten thousand thimders, which he Before him, such as in their souls infixed
his
;
He on
s'ent
Plagues: they, astonished, all resistance lost, All courage; down their idle weapons dropt; O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate,
That wished the mountains now might be again Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire. Nor less on either side tempestuous fell His arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four Distinct with ejes, and from the living wheels
Distinct alike with multitude of eyes;
One
spirit in
ever}^
eye
Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire Among the accursed, that withered all their
And
them drained,
Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen. Yet half his strength he put not forth, but checked
WAR.
:
183
Ilis tliunder in mid volley; for he meant Kot to destroy, but root them out of heaven The overthrown he raised, and as a herd Of goats or timorous flock together thronged. Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursued AVith terrors and with furies, to the bounds
And
crystal wall of heaven; which, opening wide, Kolled inward, and a spacious gap disclosed Into the wasteful deep the monstrous sight
:
Struck them with horror backward, but far worse Urged them behind headlong themselves they
:
threw Do\\n from the verge of heaven eternal wrath Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.
;
MILTON.
HKliREW
MELODIES/^
like the
wolf on the
purple and
like stars
And
his
And
was
on
iWhen
summer
is
That
liost
184
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
of
blast,
.SPIRIT.
And
there
lay
it
the
steed
with
his
nostril
all
wide.
But through
:
And
And
there lay the rider distorted and pale, his brow, and the rust on his
And
The
the tents were all silent, the banners alone, lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, the idols are broke in the temple of Baal
;
the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
LOUD BYRON.
WAR.
185
TAMI'.UULAINE/^
off
and
you rudiments of war: upon the ground, March in your armor through watery fens. Sustain the scorching heat and freezing cold, Hunger and thirst, right adjuncts of the war, That
I
'11
iiave
And
Then next the way to fortify your men: In champion grounds, what figure serves you best, For which the <)uinque-angle form is meet. Because the corners there may fall more flat
^^'llereas the fort
mav
fittest
be assailed,
sharpest where the assault is desperate. The ditches must be deep; the counterscarps Narrow and steep the walls made high and broad ; The bulwarks and the rampires large and strong, With cavalieros and thick counterforts. And room within to lodge six thousand men. It must have privy ditches, countermines.
;
And
And
It
must have high argins and covered ways, To keep the bulwark fronts from battery,
And
And May
Casemates to
186
Dismount the cannon of the adverse part, Murder the foe, and save the walls from breach.
this is learned for service on the land. plain and easy demonstration I '11 teach you how to make the water mount, That you may dry-foot march through lakes and
When
By
pools.
Deep
and
little seas,
And make
a fortress in the raging waves, Fenced with the concave of monstrous rock,
Invincible by nature of the place.
When this is done then are ye soldiers. And worthy sous of Tamburlaiue the Great. Calyphas. My lord, but this is dangerous
be done
:
to
We may
And
be slain or
Tamburlainb.
Villain!
wounded
ere
we
learn.
Tamburlaiue,
fear'st to die, or
with a curtle-axe
To hew thy flesh, and make a gaping wound? Hast thou beheld a peal of ordnance strike A ring of jtikes, mingled with shot and horse.
Whose
Heaven,
Hang in the air as thick as sunny motes. And canst thou, coward, stand in fear of death? Hast thou not seen my horsemen charge the foe.
Shot through the arms, cut overthwart the hands, their lances with their streaming blood. And yet at night carouse within my tent. Filling their empty veins with airy wine. That, being concocted^ turns to crimson blood, And wilt thou shun the field for fear of wounds?
Dyeing
WAR.
View
187
And
1110, tli.v father, that hath conquered kings, with his horse marched round about tlie earth
Quite void of scars and clear from any wound, That by the wars lost not a drop of blood,
And
see
him lance
is
all.
his arm.)
A wound
Blood
is
ZS'ow look
like a soldier,
and
this
wound
As As
And
wealthy India, Were mounted here under a canop}'. And 1 sate down clothed with a massy robe, That late adorned the Afric potentate, Whom 1 brought bound unto Damascus' walls. Come, boys, and with your fingers search my
wound.
And
in
1
my
blood wash
all
sit smiling to behold the sight. While Now, mv bovs, what think ve of a wound?
Calyphas.
it;
should think of
metliinks
is
Celeiunus.
father.
"T
a pitiful sight.
is
nothing: give
me
a wound,
Amvkas.
me your
as
arm. Celeiunts.
Here,
It
:
father,
cut
it
bra\ely,
Tamiuulaine.
abide a
shall
sullice
thou
darest
wound
188
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
boy, thou shalt not lose a di'op of blood Before we meet the army of the Turk; But theu run desperate through the thickest
My
throngs,
And
let
speech of war, and this my wound you see, my boys, to bear courageous minds, Fit for the followers of great Tamburlaine!
My
Teach you,
CHRISTOPHEK MARLOWE.
CATILINE," ACT
V.
SC. 2.
Sound
all to
arms!
flourish (To on
{A
of trumpets.)
officer.)
!
Death! Now, Hope! Welcome the clanging shield, the trumpet's yell, Welcome the feyer of the mounting blood. That makes wounds light, and battle's crimson
toil
{The
Seem but a sport, and welcome the Where soldiers with their upturned
cold bed,
faces
lie,
And welcome
wolf's and vulture's hungry throats, That make their sepulchres! We fight to-night.
{The soldiery enter.) I disdain ruined Centurions from truth the To hide you. The die is thrown! wishes for long life that And now, let each
!
all is
WAR.
I
189
Put up his sword, and kneel for peace to Eome. Ye all are free to go. What no man stirs Not one a soldier's spirit in you all? Give me your hands (This moisture in my eyes
I
I
Is
womanish, 'twill
AVell have
you
is
My
noble hearts!
For, in
my
mind,
The grave
better than o'erburdened life; Better the quick release of glorious wounds,
Tlian the eternal taunts of galling tongues; Better the spear-head quivering in the heart, Than daily struggle against fortune's curse;
lett(M',
To
in manhood's muscle and high blood, leap the gulf, than totter to its edge
]>ain,
In poverty, dull
Once more,
Then, each
say,
are ye resolved'?
A
AUl AH!")
man
to his tent, and take the arms love to die in, for, this hour,
last farewell
!
[He takes
their hands.)
When
How
Few
That
meet, we '11 have no time to look, parting clouds a soldier's countenance. as we are, we '11 rouse them with a peal
next
we
shall shake
Rome!
;
Now
to
the
word
's
Re-
venge
GEORGE CROLY.
190
POEMS OF NATIONAL
CARACTACUS.
SPIRIT.
Before proud Rome's imi^erial throne In mind's uuconquered mood, As if the triumph were his own, The dauntless captive stood.
Had
air,
With slow and stately tread. Far from his own loved island home. That day in triumph led,
Unbound his head, unbent his knee, Undimmed his eye, his aspect free.
free
and
arch,
and tower.
And somewhat
And now he
Where
Bearing a Briton's manly mien In Caesar's palace hall Claiming, with kindled brow and cheek,
;
The
lord withstand
WAR.
But motioned with uplifted hand The suppliant should be heard, If he indeed a supjtliant were Whose glance demanded audience there.
191
Deep
stillness fell
on
all
the crowd,
From Claudius on
his throne
Down
At
to the
As
"
Think
And master
Though
Rome,
victory's banner o'er thy dome lu triumph now is furled, I would address thee as thy slave, But as the bold should greet the brave!
"
have deigned
To hold a
E'en
now
king
in Britain's isle
in
have reigned
name
alone,
streets to-day
But
1
fetterless
and
free,
192
"
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
^SPIRIT.
But canst thou marvel that, freeborn, With heart aud soul unquelled, Throne, crown, and sceptic I should scorn,
right
By
us unwished, unreft,
Her homely huts and woodland bowers To Britain might have left;
Worthless to vou their wealth must But dear to us, for they were free!
" I might have
be,
bowed
before, but
where
Had
now?
To my resolve no yoke to bear Thou ow'st thy laurelled brow; Inglorious victory had been thine, And more inglorious bondage mine.
"
have spoken, do thy will ; or death mv lot, Since Britain's throne no more I fill, To me it matters not. My fame is clear; but on my fate
I
Now
Be
life
Thy
glory or thy
He
ceased
from
around upsprung
A murmur
of applause.
The concpieror
He bade
BERNARD BARTON.
WAR.
193
CATO," ACT
for war.
II.
SC.
1.
My
I
voice
is still
Gods tau a Koinan senate long debate ^Vl^icll of the two to choose, slavery or death? No;
let
And
us rise at once, gird on our swords, at the head of our remaining troops
Attack the foe, break through the thick array Of his thronged legions, and charge home upon
him.
Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, Slav reach his heart, and free the world from
Rise
't is Rome demands your help and revenge her slaughtered citizens, Or share their fate! The corjjse of half her
I
Rise,
senate
Manures the
fields of
Thessaly, while
we
Sit here deliberating, in cold debate, If we should sacrifice our lives to honor,
Or wear
Ihcin out in servitude and chains. Rouse up, for shame! our brothers of IMiarsalia Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, ''To
battle
"
:
Great Ponijiey's shade complains that we are slow, And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us. JOSEPH ADDISON.
VIII
13
194
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
And
The torrent swept the glen, The ocean lashed the shore; Then rose the Spartan men, To make their bed in gore!
Swift from the deluge ground Three hundred took the shield; Then,
silent,
gathered round
of the held
!
The leader
And
The
iiery element Showed, with one mighty gleam, Rampart, and flag, and tent, Like the spectres of a dream.
All
All
WAR.
And foremost from the pass, Among the sliimberiug' baud,
Sprang King Leouidas,
Like the lightning's living brand.
195
fell,
And
its
moan
of steel,
And
And
That
o'er the
midnight threw
A A
blood-red canopy.
The
air
was
all
yell.
And tlie earth was all a flame, Where the vSjjartau's bloody steel On the silken turbans came;
And
still
Where
sun
196
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And
Lay beneath
SPIRIT.
Then sat to the repast The bravest of the brave That feast must be their Last, That spot must be their grave.
!
And
But now the morning star Crowned CEta's twilight brow; And the Persian horn of war
From
Up
To Greece one cup poured high, Then hand in hand they drank,
"To
immortality!
"
Fear on King Xerxes fell, When, like spirits from the tomb, With shout and trumpet knell, He saw the warriors come.
WAR.
197
But down swept all his power, With chariot and with charge;
Till
Down
With all their strength unstrung; To Greece one look thev sent. Then on high their torches flung.
The king sat on the throne. His captains by his side, While the flame rushed roaring
on,
And
Thus fought the Greek of old! Thus will he fight again Shall not the self-same mould
!
Again
Our liearts bid the tyrants defiance; Our land, the first garden of Liberty's-tree, Has been, and shall yot be. tlie land of tho
free;
For the cross of our faith is rejdanted. The pale dying crescent is daunted. And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's
slaves
198
POEMS OF NATIONAL
be
SPIRIT.
from our
fore-
May
washed out
in
blood
fathers' graves.
And
!
Their spirits are hovering o'er us, the sword shall to glory restore us.
Ah what though no succor advances, Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances Are stretched in our aid? Be the combat our own And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone; For we 've sworn by our country's assaulters.
By the virgins they 've dragged from our altars, By our massacred patriots, our children in chains. By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, That, living, we will be victorious,
Or
that, dying,
breath of submission
've
And
where our martyrs are laid. the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade.
fire
consume us;
:
But they
If
they
graves
and
But we
've
fire
on the
waves,
Heaven's banner
is o'er us.
This day
shall
Or brighten your
WAR.
199
Our women oh, say, shall they shriek in despair, Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in
their hair?
Accursed may his memory blacken, If a coward there be that would slacken Till we 've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth Being sj)rung from and named for, the godlike
of earth.
Strike
home! and
As
uj)
with emotion!
Her
Fanes
and
ring.
And
new hallow
their Helicon's
Our hearts shall l)e kindled in gladness. That were cold, and extinguished in sadness;
Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white
waving arms,
Ringing joy to the brave that delivered their charms, When tiie blood of yon Mussulman cravens Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens THOMAS CAMPBELL.
200
MARCO BOZZARIS.
[at
LASPI
ANCIENT PLAT.T3A
AUGUST
20, 1823.]
At
hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard Then wore his monarch's signet-ring. Then pressed that monarch 's throne a king; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's fe^ garden bird.
;
Tlie trophies of a
At midnight,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand.
There had the Persian's thousands stood. There had the glad earth drunk their blood, On old Plata?a's day And now there breathed that haunted air
;
The sons of sires who conquered there, With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far, as they.
An hour
He woke to
"
passed on, the Turk awoke: That bright dream was his last;
To arms Greek!"
the
WAR.
He woke to die And shout, and
And
201
As lightnings from
And
"Strike
the last armed foe expires; Strike for your altars and your Strike for the green graves of your
till
fires;
sires,
They fought like brave men, long and well; They ])iled that ground with Moslem slain: They conquered but Bozzaris fell,
His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah,
.
And
was won
Then saw
Come when
That close the pestilence are broke. And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come
TIio
in consumjjtion's
ghastly form,
the hoait beats high and warm. With banquet song and dance and wine,
art terrible
the tear,
202
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all Ave know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine.
to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's Avord,
But
And
heard
The thanks
Come when Come with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought Come in her crowning hour, and then Thy sunken eye'S unearthly light
; ;
To him is welcome as the sight Of sk}^ and stars to prisoned men; ThA' grasp is welcome as the hand Of brother in a foreign land; Tlw summons Avelcome as the crv
That told the Indian
isles
were nigh
When the land-wind, from Avoods of palm, And orange-groves, and fields of balm,
Blew
o'er the
Haytian
seas.
with the storied brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Kest thee; there is no prouder grave.
Bozzaris
!
Even in her own proud clime. She wore no funeral weeds for thee. Nor bade the dark hearse waA'e its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp and pageantry. The heartless luxury of the tomb.
WAR.
But she remembers thee as one
203
Long loved, and for a season gone. For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, Her marble wrought, her music breathed; For thee she rings the birthday bolls; Of thee her babes' first lisping tells; For thine lier evening prayer is said At palace couch and cottage bed. Her soldici', closing wilh the foe,
Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow; His plighted maiden, when she fonrs For him, the joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears. And she, the mother of thy boys. Though in her eye and faded cheek
Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried joys,
And
even she
who gave
theo birth,
For thou art freedom's now, and fame's, One of the few, the immortal names That were not born to die.
FITZ-GUEEXE IIALLECK.
HARMOSAN.
Now
And
the third and fatal conflict for the Persian
throne was done. the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning
victory won.
204
POEMS OF NATIONAL
last
SPIRIT.
to
Harmosan, the
defy,
"
Lo, I perish
let
Give
me
rive the
then ar-
draught forbore,
of the
foeman
to
Well might then have paused the bravest for, around him, angry foes With a hedge of naked weapons did the lonely
man
"
enclose.
thou? " cried the caliph; " is it, friend, a secret blow? Fear it not! our gallant Moslems no such treacherous dealing know.
But what
fear'st
"
of water
this reprieve
Quick the satrap dashed the goblet down to earth with ready hand, And the liquid sank forever, lost amid the burning sand.
WAR.
"
205
Thou hast
my
life
is,
till
the
water of that cup have drained; then bid thy servants that spilled water gather up "
I
" For ever sacred must remain a monarch's word. Bring another cup, and straightway to the noble
Then exclaimed
Persian give:
now
bid thee
BATTLE SCENE.
FROM
"
THE
''
CID."
Then
cried
rescue
my " ho
I
Cid
In
charity,
as
to
the
With stooping
All firm of
crests
the saddle-bow,
upon
the foe.
And
is
lioard his
shout
"Among
them, gentlemen
!
Strike
home
fur the
love of charity
206
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
.SPIRIT.
The champion of Bivar is here Ruy Diaz I am he!" Then bearing where Bermuez still maintains unequal
fight,
Three hundred lances down they come, their pennons flickering white Down go three hundred Moors to earth, a man to every blow And when they wheel, three hundred more, as charging back the^^ go. It was a sight to see the lances rise and fall that
; ;
day;
to see
how
in
riderless,
Moors
call
on
Mohammed,
more
and
in
St.
James!"
And
narrow
compass
Your horse
O mount
!
apace, I i)ray
WAR.
Or
in
207
my arms
King,
'11
lift
niji;li
your Grace,
!
their tram
to
"My
my
hand
before,
and
I "II
lift
you
coming cry,
hear their
'11
save
this
hour of need,
thy
kiss the
foam from
am,
ter dear I
off
away
the
And
"
in
his
side.
My
horse
Xay, never speak; my sires. Lord King, received their land from yours,
joyfully their blood shall spring, so be thine secures
;
And
If
I
it
my
King,
b(^
found
among
the dead,
1
proud dames
shall
never
point
the
And
thai
!
ran
208
I
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Diego
in
;
SPIRIT.
'11
leave
your
care^
you
fill
liis
God's
And
He He
ness and glee; flung himself among them, as they the hill,
came down
died,
drunk
its
fill.
From
Translation of
JOHN
GIBSON"
LOCKHAKT.
HAKON'S DEFIANCE.
FROM
"
HAKON
JARL/^
Christianity,
[Olaf Trygveson from Ireland is trying to introduce and reclaim his father's kingdom, in Norway, and has invaded the realm of Earl Hakon, a formi-
dable lieathen usurper, who, after defeat in battle, unsuccessfully attempts to have King Olaf assassinated by Thorer Klake, one of his adherents. But Olaf slays Klake,
and now
visits
in a peasant's luit.J
Enter Olaf Trygveson, muffled up in a gray cloak, ivith a hroad hat on his head.
[without looking up]. valiant Thorer Klake, hast come at last? Hast been successful? Dost thou bring to me
Hakon
My
What
thou
didst
promise?
Answer,
Thorer
Klake.
WAR.
Olaf.
200
All
my
things
lord;
have
happened
as
they
should,
But pardon Thorer that he does not come bring himself King Olaf's head to thee Thor knows he had 'T Nvas ditlicult for him.
And
it,
And
And
I
Hakon.
Well,
'tis
it
it
in the
myself:
Hakox. Asleep Olaf. A midday slumber; he stretched beneath a shadowy elder-tree. Hakon. Then wake him up. [Aside.] Asleep, Asleep, and after such A deed Ha Thorer, admire thee
?
Bears not such sights, they reappear in dreams. Bury the body with it. Tell thy lord That he shall come at once. Olaf. He is asleep.
lies
my
eye
Stiffly
Thou hast rare courage. [Aloud.] Thrall, go wake him up. Olaf. But wilt thou first not look at Olafs
head?
Hakox.
Olaf.
That
my
lord
in the land.
tell
thee!
the like:
always heard that TTakon was a hero. Few like him in the North, and does he fear
I
VIII
210
POEM^S OF NATIONAL
see a lifeless
.SPIRIT.
To
How
and a eorpseless head? woiildst thou tremble then, my lord, Shouldst see it on his body?
if
thou
[turning round angrily], Thrall, thou darest Where hast thou got it?
!
Hakon
Olaf [takes
cloak].
his
hat
off,
and throws
off
his
On my
t,'
shoulders, Earl.
"
Forgive me that I bring it thee myself In such a way 't was easiest for me. Hakon. What, Olaf Ha what treachery here?
Olaf. Old
wrath.
is
Attempt not to fight Olaf, but remember That he has still his head upon his body.
Ha, Hilfheim
voice]. So, be quiet
and
says- in
a loud
now,
I say,
And
My followers th}^ sword again. Surround the house my vessels are a match For all of thine, and I myself have come To win the country in an honest fight.
sheathe
;
me with
thy plots to do
it.
Thou standest like a despicable thrall In his own pitfall caught at last; but I Will make no use of these advantages Which fate has granted me. I am convinced
WAR.
That
211
Thy
maj' boldly meet thee face to face. purpose, as thou seest, has wholly failed,
I
Aud
Thou
in his
own blood
't
seest
;
thee
To strike thee down were even easier still But I the Christian doctrine do confess,
And do
i>o
such ])o<)i' advantages despise. choose between two courses. Still be Earl
lliou wast,
Of Illade as
Or
IIakox
[protKlltj
is
and
I
My
choice
made.
choose
tlie latter,
Olaf.
Thou
a villain and a thrall; That forces up a smile upon my lips. Olaf, one hears indeed that thou art young;
callest
It is by mockery and arrogance That one can judge thy age. Now, look at me Full in the eyes; consider well my brow: Hast thou among the thralls e'er met such looks? Dost think that cunning or that cowardice Could e'er have carved these Avrinkles on my brow?
I
me
Ha
't
is
true
knew that thou didst wait but for a sign To flutter after the enticing bait; That in thy soul thou didst more highly ]>rize Thy kinship with an extinct race of kings Than great ICarl Hakon's world-renowned deeds;
I
To
fall U])on
it
Does
astonish thee
should wish
212
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
That I deceived a dreamer who desxjised The mighty gods, does that astonish thee? Does it astonish thee that I approved
warrior's purpose, since a hostile fate Attempted to dethrone, not only me,
My
But
all
Olaf,
Remember,
Valhalla's gods?
Hakon,
Remember, Hakon, that e'en thou thyself Hast been a Christian that thou wast baptized
;
that thou since then oath. How many hast thou break Didst thy ? broken Hakon. Accursed forever may that moment
be
When by the cunning monk I was deceived, And let myself be fooled by paltry tricks. He held a red-hot iron in his hand,
After by magic he had covered With witches' ointment.
Olaf.
silver
it
O thou blind old man hair does make me pity thee. Thy Hakon. Ha! spare thy pity; as thou
!
seest
me
Thou
here,
seest the last flash and the latest spark Of ancient Northern force and hero's life
;
And
that, with all thy fever-stricken dreams, Proud youth, thou shalt be powerless to quench.
know it is the Christian custom To pity, to convert, and to amend. Our custom is to heartily despise you, To ruminate upon your fall and death, As foes to gods and to a hero's life. That Hakon does, and therein does consist
I well do
WAR.
His
villainy.
213
By
not
Thou
With
sbalt
Norway's warlike
llanie
all
Olaf.
'T
We
sepa-
rate,
And woe
Ave, woe to me then again. crush thee not. Olaf. Heaven shall strike thee with might! Hakox. No, with his hammer Thor the cross
Hakox.
if
to thee
its fiery
will smite!
From
the Danish of
Translation of
A DANISH BARROW
ON THE EAST DEVOX COAST.
Lie
still,
sturdy-back and sturdy-limb. Whoe'er he was, I warrant him Upon whoso mound the single sheep Browses and tinkles in the sun, Within the narrow^ vale alone.
Lie
old
si ill.
Dane!
Suits well thy centuries of sleep: Tlie soft brown roots above thee creep,
The lotus flaunts his ruddy sheen. And, vain memento of the sjmt, The tunpioise-eyed forget-me-not.
214
Lie
POEMS OF NATIONAL
still
!
SPIRIT.
Thy mother-land
herself
:
Would know
Hails the bold crew to push for pelf. Through fire and blood and slaughtered kings 'Neath the black terror of his wings.
And
thou,
is lost
The peasant onl}^ knows that here Bold Alfred scooped thy flinty bier. And prayed a foeman's prayer, and tost His auburn head, and said, " One more Of England's foes guards England's shore,"
While Time's corrosive dewdrop eats The giant warrior to a crust Of earth in earth, and rust in rust.
So
lie:
and
let
And sit like flowers upon thy grave And crown with flowers, that hardly have
As thou within
WAR,
215
there conies
Aiid duist
with sweat, with blood of Koinans, of the ii<>ht all staiuedl Oh, uever
lie,
t^aw
Ilerinann so lovely
tire iu
Never such
his eyes!
I tremble for jox Come hand me the Eagle And the red dripping sword come, breathe, and
!
rest thee
my bosom
Rest from the terrible fight Rest thee, while from thy brow
drops.
I
And
that
I
how
glowing!
first in
With
tliat
Hermann immortal
is
found
216
POEMS OF NATIONAL
curl'st
SPIRIT.
Lies not our
"Wherefore
thou
my
hair?
father
Cold and silent in death? Oh, had Augustus Onl}' headed his armj,
He
Let
should
lie
me
lift
up thy hair;
sinking:,
Hermann
now!
Sigmar
From
the
is
Follow, and
Gennau
of
little flock
the foe
Who
madly seeks your overthrow, Dread not his rage and power;
faints?
Be of good cheer; your cause belongs To him who can ayenge your wrongs.
Leave
it
He
sees the
all our eyes, Gideon who shall rise To save us, and his word.
As true as God's own word is true, Not earth or hell with all their crew
Against us shall prevail.
WAR.
217
jest
is
God
and by-word are thev pjrown ; with us, we are his own,
victory cannot
fail.
Our
Amen, Lord Jesus; grant our prayer! Great Captain, now thine arm make bare;
So
Fight for us once again and martyrs raise chorus to thy praise, mighty
!
Amen.
German
of
MICHAEL ALTEXBURG.
SWOKD
SONG.
SwoRD^ on my left side gleaming, Wlmt means thy bright eye's beaming? It makes my spirit dance
To
Hurrah
rider bears
me;
Hurrah
And
clasj) thee to
j
my
side,
Hurrah
*'
And
to thee, by
My
218
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
When When
shall the
SPIRIT.
knot be tied?
Hurrah
The trumpet's solemn warning Shall hail the bridal morning b>
When
cannon-thunders wake,
true-love I take.
Then my
Hurrah
"O My
My
heart
is
wildly beating:
Hurrah
Why
in the
scabbard
rattle,
So wild, so
My
Rider,
Hurrah
Stay
in
My
love;
Hurrah
WAR.
"
219
Let me not lougor wait; Love's garden liloonis in state, ^Vitll roses bloody-red,
And many
a bright death-bed."
!
Hurrah
come
Now,
then,
forth,
my
bride
Come Come
Forth
Ilurrah
"
How,
beams,
gleams!"
Hurrah
lighters!
!
And forward, German riders And when the heart grows cold.
Let each his love infold.
Hurrah
Once on the
left it
hung,
And
Now
Doth
Huirah
Tlien let y<ur hoi lips feel That virgin cheek of steel;
220
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT. One kiss, and woe betide Him who forsakes the bride. Hurrah
!
Now Now
let
let
sparks shall
!
flj,
Heralds of victory
Hurrah
!
dawns
in festal pride;
Hurrah
From
the
German
Translation of
We ride so We ride
night
still,
is
o'er at last
we
ride so fast
we
'11
Ere dying.
Thou, springing grass, that art so green, Shall soon be rosy red, I ween. My blood the hue supplying! I drink the first glass, sword in hand, To him who for the Fatherland
Lies dying!
O
<
o
< > <
WAR.
Now
And
quickly comes the second draught, that shall be to freedom quaffed
221
While freedom's foes are tlviuji;! The rest, O land, our hope and faith
We'd
My
The
the glass is out! bullets ring, the riders shout No time for wine or sighing!
darling!
ah,
There! bring my love the shattered glass Charge! On the foe! no joys surpass
Such
dvinj>-!
From
the
German
of
GEORG HERWEGH.
"W.
Translation of
ROSSITER
KAYJIO.VD
A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was
dearth of woman's tears; But a comrade stood beside him, while
his life-
blood ebbed away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he
rade's hand,
And
my
own,
to
some distant
the
For
was born
at
Bingen,
at
Tiingen on
Rhine.
222
''
my brothers and eonipauions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in that pleasant
Tell
vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done.
Full
many
The death-wound on
decline,
suddenly beheld
life's
Bingen,
fair
Bingen on
"
Tell
my mother
still
For For
My
cage. ray father was a soldier, and even as a child heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce
I was home a
and wild
And when
hoard,
I let tliera
he died, and
left
but
kept
mv
And
On
father's
sword
it
calm
WAR.
" Tell
223
my
sister not to
marching home again with glad and gallant tread, lint to look upon them proudly, with a calm and
steadfast eye,
too",
my
name
him kindly, without regret or shame, hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine) For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the
To
listen to
And
to
Rhine.
"
There
's
another,
not
sister
in
the
happy
days gone by You 'd have known her by the merriment that
Too innoccul
friend!
I
scorning,
too
fond
for
idle
risen.
My
1
body
will be
)
]ris()ii
dreamed
On
fair
Bingen on
the Khiue.
224
" I
POEMS OF NATIONAL
or seemed to hear,
SPIRIT,
And down
ing
and up the
slant-
hill.
The echoing chorus sounding, through the evening calm and still; And her glad blue eves were on me, as we passed,
with friendlv talk, Down manv a path beloved of jore, and well-
And
lightly,
confidingly in
at Bingen,
loved Bingen
his
look,
he
sighed and
lift
life
had fled,
The
dead!
And
On
the soft
she looked
slowly,
and calmly
with bloody
field,
As
it
fair
Bingen on
the Rhine.
WAR.
225
HOHENLINDEN.
[1800.]
On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow
Of
Iser, rolling rapidly.
sight
When
the
drum
By
And
To
Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steeds to battle driven,
And
Far
glow
On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of
'T
Iser, rolling rapidly.
is
level
sun
ITuu
rolling dun,
fiery
16
in their
sulphurous canopv.
226
POEMS OF NATIONAL
The combat deepens.
SPIRIT.
Who
And
On, ye brave, rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
charge with
all
thy chivalry
And
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
lYRY.
[1500.]
glory to the Lord of hosts, glories are And glory to our sovereign liege.
!
Now
from
whom
all
King Henry
of
Navarre
Now
let
the dance.
and sunny vines, O France And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city
Through thy
l)leasant land of
of the waters,
Again
let
all
thy mourn-
As
ills,
be joyous in
stiff
and
still
are they
field
who wrought
chance of war
Hurrah hurrah
!
for Ivry,
and Henry
WAR.
Oh
!
227
at the
We
bow our hearts were beating, when, dawn of day, saw the army of the League drawn out
array;
all
its priest-led
in long
With
citizens,
and
all
its
rebel
peers,
Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egniont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land And dark Mnyenne was in the midst, a truncheon
;
And
in his
hand;
of Seine's
An
as
empui'pled flood.
his blood
who
rules the
tight for
Navarre.
armor
And
he
lias
bound
a snow-white
]>luiii('
u^ion his
in his
was
Hf
eye looked
;
ujioji
tlio 1i'nitoi-s,
siiiile(l
on
from
Down
all
oui-
line, a
228
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
if
SPIRIT.
as fall full well
And
lie
my
standard-bearer
I
fall,
may
promise yet of such a bloody
frayPress where you see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriHamme to-day the helmet of Navarre."
Hurrah! the
gled din,
Hark
to the min-
Of
fife,
and
roar-
The
duke
is
dre's plain.
With
all
and
Now
gentlemen
thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like
a guiding star,
of
Now, God be
liath
is
ours:
Mayenne
turned his rein; D'Auniale hath cried for quarter; the Flemish count is slain;
WAR.
221)
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale;
The
field is
flags,
along
man
to
man.
:
" No Frenchmen
my
foe
Oh
As our sovereign
Navarre?
soldier of
Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France to-day; And many a lordly banner God gave them for a
prey.
But we
of the
religion
fight;
And
white
ta'en.
Up
with
it
high: unfui-l
it
wide
that
all
the host
may know
How
230
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
their
Henry
Ho
maidens of Vienna ho matrons of LucerneWeep, weep, and rend your hair for those who
!
Ho!
Mexican
pis-
Ho!
poor spearmen's souls. gallant nobles of the League, look that your
arms be bright;
Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night; For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God
hath raised the
slave,
And mocked
Then glorv
of the brave.
whom
all
And
King Henry
of
Navarre
LORD MACAULAY.
A
On
mile or so away.
a little
WAR.
out-thrust, you fancy how, I^gs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow, Oppressive with its mind.
231
With noek
My
fall,
plans
That
soar, to earth
may
Let once
my
army-leader Lannes
Waver
Out
at vonder wall,"
bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew Until he reached the mound.
Then
off
And hold himself erect By just his horse's mane, a You hardly could suspect
bo^':
(So tight he kejtt his lips compressed. Scarce any blood came through).
You
Was
"
looked twice ere you saw his breast all but shot in two.
" Well," cried he, Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
's
The marshal
And you
To
see
A\'here
I,
'11
your
flag-bird
his vans
to heart's desire, Perched him " The chief 's eye flashed
I
his i)lans
Soarel
up again
like fire.
The
Softened
presently as sheathes
232
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
A
"
When
You
're
wounded
!
"
!
"
to the quick, he said " I 'm " killed, sire And, his chief beside, Smiling, the boy fell dead.
Touched
ROBERT BROWNING.
The furnace fires smoke and die. The iron flood boils over. Ope the door, And let the haughty one pass by Roar, mighty river, rush upon your course, A bound, and, from your dwelling past, Dash forward, like a torrent from its source, A flame from the volcano cast! To gulp your lava-waves earth's jaws extend. Your fury in one mass fling forth,
!
In your
Again Napoleon,
An
't
is
his
form appears!
tears,.
Hard
soldier in
Who
cost so
much
For mourning Prance it was a day of grief, When, down from its high station flung, His mighty statue, like some shameful thief, In coils of a vile rope was hung;
WAR.
Wheu we beheld at the grand column's And o'er a shrieking cable bowed,
1^1 ace
233
base,
dis-
To hurrahs
When,
thrown.
The proud mass cast in monnrch mould Made sudden fall, and on the hard, cold stone
Its iron carcass sternly rolled.
soiled,
rank skin.
filth
within
Drew
On
those within whose bosoms hearts hold reign, That hour like remorse must weigh On eacli French brow, 't is the eternal stain,
The wagons of the foreign force; saw them strip the bark which clothed our To cast it to their hungry horse. saw the Northman, with his savage lip,
liruising our flesh
Our bread devour, on our nostrils sip The air which was our own before!
In the abasement and the pain,
I
till
the weight
fair,
charged one only l)oing with my hate: lie thou accursed, Xapolcon! O lank-hiiircd Corsican, your France was In the full sun of Messidor!
234
POEALS OF NATIONAL
^SPIRIT.
She was a tameless and a rebel mare, Nor steel bit nor gold rein she bore; Wild steed Avith rustic Hank; yet, while she
trod,
of royalty.
But proud with strong foot striking the At last, and for the first time, free,
;
old sod,
Never a hand, her virgin form passed o'er. Left blemish nor affront essayed And never her broad sides the saddle bore,
the stranger made. noble vagrant, with coat smooth and bright, And nostril red, and action proud, As high she reared, she did the world
Nor harness by
affright
AVith neighings which rang long and loud. You came; her mighty loins, her paces scanned, Pliant and eager for the track;
Hot Centaur, twisting in her mane your hand. You sprang all booted to her back.
Then, as she loved the war's exciting sound.
of powder and the drum, her Earth for exercising ground. Bade Battles as her pastimes come
!
The smell
You gave
Then, no repose for her, no nights, no sleep The air and toil for evermore! And human forms like unto sand crushed deep. And blood which rose her chest before!
!
Through
fifteen
years
her
hard
hoofs'
rapid
course
And
So ground the generations, she passed smoking in her speed and force Over the breast of nations;
WAR.
235
goal
to
Till,
tired
trust,
in
ne'er earned
place vain
To tread a path ne'er left behind, To knead the universe and like a dust To uplift scattered human kind, Feebly and woin, and gasping as she trode,
Stumbling each step of her career, She craved for rest the Corsican who rode. But, torturer you would not hear; You pressed her harder with your nervous thigh, You tightened more the goading bit. Choked in her foaming mouth her frantic cry.
I
And
She rose, but the strife came. From farther Saved noL the curb she could not know, She went down, pillowed on the cannon-ball. And thou wert broken by the blow!
in fuiy-tit.
fail
Now
dej>ilis
A
No
now
he,
cushions of a throne, un[itying, down pressed the lliioiil of Liberty, Old slave of the Alliance, sad and lone,
Who
^^'llO
And
J'^'rance's iiii:ige
F<n- chain, beneath the strangei-'s stroke, Nai'oi,i:o\ stands, unsullied by a stain:
Thanks
23G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The lying poets who ring praises vain, Has Caesar 'mong the gods found place!
His image to the city-walls gives light; His name has made the city's hum, Still sounded ceaselessly, as through the fight It echoed farther than the drum. From the high suburbs, where the people crowd, Doth Paris, an old pilgrim now,
Each day descend to greet the pillar proud, And humble there his monarch brow; The arms encumbered with a mortal wreath, With flowers for that bronze's pall, (No mothers look on, as they pass beneath,
grew beneath their tears so tall !) In working-vest, in drunkenness of soul. Unto the fife's and trumpet's tone, Doth joyous Paris dance the Carmagnole
It
Around
Thus, Gentle Monarchs, pass unnoted on! Mild Pastors of Mankind, away!
Sages, depart, as common brows have gone, Devoid of the immortal ray
!
And vainly, like a calm flock, come On your own footsteps, without sweat
The people, Soon as your
treading towards
And its last lustre shall be given By your quenched name, upon the popular
Scarce a faint furrow shall be riven.
Pass, pass ye on
!
Your names
shall vanish
WAR.
Their memory
is
237
lead to die
for those
who
For him, who bids them pyramids to build, xVud bear upon their backs the stones! From the Freach of AUGUSTE BAKBIKK.
ON THE WARKES
FKOM
"
IN IRELAND.
IV.
EPIGRAMS," BOOK
EPIGKAM
6.
but cannot
now
abide
it.
That warre
it;
is
it now and plainly see 't, maketh all things sweet. At home Canaric wines and Greek grow lothsome; Here milk is nectar, water tasteth toothsome.
For
It
have proved
it
is
so sweet,
There without baked, rost, boyl'd, it is no cheere; Bisket we like, and Bonny Clabo here. There we complain of one wan roasted chick; Here meat worse cookt ne're makes us sick.
At home
in silken sparrers,
rest,
beds of Down,
tosse
We
scant can
but
still
up and down;
sleep, a saddle to our ])illow, A hedge the ruitaine, (^anoi)y a Willow. There if a diild Inil cry, () what a spit^!
Here we can
Here we can brook llirco laruins in one night. There homely rooms nnist be perfumed with Roses Here match and powder ne're offend our noses.
;
238
POEMH OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
I'ullets;
There from a storm of rain we ruu like Here we stand fast against a shower of
bullets.
Lo, then how greatly their opinions erre, That think there is no great delight in Avarre;
But
vet for this, sweet warre, lie be thy debtor, my home the better.
SIR
JOHN HARRINGTON.
tlesh of
England's beeves,
fall.
And laughed
at England's
earl,
In mail of wolf-skin clad. Their bracelets white with plundered pearl. Their eyes with triumph mad.
From Humber-land to Severn-land, And on to Tamar stream, Where Thames makes green the towery
Wliere Medway's waters gleam,
strand,
AMth hands
of steel
and mouths
of llame
They raged the kingdom through; And where the Nor-seman sickle came,
No
WAR.
They loaded many an English horse
239
With wealth
of cities fair;
from many a father's corse The danghter by her hair. And English slaves, and gems and gold,
The}' dragged
the feast;
midnight
in their
woodland hold,
O, never
tiiat riot
ceased.
In stalked a warrior tall and rude Before the strong sea-kings; " Ye Lords and Earls of Odin's brood, Without a harper sings.
He seems
And
^^'ilI
a simple
man and
poor,
lUit well he
well, ye
Norsenum
chiefs, be sure,
In trod
hai-d
glanced along the board. That with the shout and war-cry shook
And
Of many a Danish lord. But thirty brows, intlamed and stern, Soon bent on him their gaze, While calm he gazed, as if to learn
Who
Loud (J nth rum spake, " Nay, gaze not tlMs, Thou Harper weak and jtoor! By Thor! who bandy looks with us Must worse than looks endure. Sing high llic j)raise of Denmark's host,
High praise each dauntless Earl;
240
whirl."
his head,
;
And
Then raised his face, and boldly said, " Hear thou my lay, O King High praise from every mouth of man To all who boldly strive, Who fall where first the fight began.
And
Who
bloody rout.
slain,
When
Humber came.
His men were chased, his sons were And he was left alone. They bound him in an iron chain
Upon a dungeon
stone.
iron links they bound him fast; With snakes they filled the hole. That made his flesh their long repast.
"With
And
"
Great
chiefs,
why
W^hy champ your teeth in pain ? Still lives the song though Kegnar dies!
rill high
your
cui)S
again
Ye
too, perchance,
O Norseman
long,
lords
Who
WAR.
Shall soon but live in minstrel words,
241
to song.
This land has graves bv thousands more Than that where Reguar lies. When cout^uests fade, and rule is o'er. The sod must close your eyes. How soon, who knows? Not chief, nor bard;
And
To
yet to
me
't is
given.
see
And
" I
guess the
doom
of lleaven.
read or when or how, Earls and But, Kings, be sure I see a blade o'er every brow,
may not
Where
pride
now
sits secure.
Fill high the cups, raise loud the strain! When chief and monarch fall,
And
fa.
thrill
Grim
pale with dread. His iron mace was grasped by one. By one his wine was shed. And Guthrum cried, " Nay, bard, no more
V^'e
Make drunk
'*
hear thy boding lay; the song with spoil and gore!
"
!
To hear the strife once more. The mace, the axe, they rest too long;
Earth
VIII
16
cries.
My
thirst is sore.
2i2
More blithely twang the strings of bows Than strings of harps in glee Red wounds are lovelier than the rose Or rosy lips to me.
;
"
When
Would
The plain
The vision
I
death before
my
soul
rises fair;
!
would that
Loud rang
the harp, the minstrel's eye Rolled fiercely round the throng; It seemed two crasliiug hosts were nigh, Whose shock aroused the song.
golden cup King Guthrum gave To him who strongly played; And said, " 1 won it from the slave
Who
King Guthrum cried, 'T was Alfred's own; Thv sonU" 't> befits the brave The King who cannot guard his throne Nor wine nor song shall have.'' The minstrel took the goblet bright,
:
And
'*
said,
To him who owns by justest right The cup thou bid'st be mine. To him, your Lord, O shout ye all! His meed be deathless praise
!
WAR.
The King who dares uot nobly
Dies basely
"
all his
fall,
243
days."
The praise thou speakest," Guthrmn said, With sweetness fills mine ear; For Alfred swift before me fled, And left me monarch here. The royal coward never dared Beneath mine eye to stand. O, would that now this feast he shared. And saw me rule his land
*
''
I
rose,
And
"
and spake,
take,
The cup
Till
I
denuind
then."
The HariKjr turned and left the shed, Nor bent to (luthruurs crown; And one who marked his visage said It wore a ghastly frown. The Danes ne'er saw that Harper more, For soon as morning rose.
Upon their camjt King Alfred And slew ten thousand foes.
bore.
JOUN STERLING.
244
CHEVY-CHACE.
" [A modernized form of the old ballad of the Hunting the Cheviot." Some circumstances of the battle of Otterbourne (A. D. 1388) are woven into the ballad, and the afifairs of tlie two events are confounded. The ballad preserved in the "Percy Reliques"is probably as old as
o'
1574.
is
Charles
God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all
;
To
drive the deer with hound and horn Earl Piercy took his way; The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting
of that day.
The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take,
The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chace To kill and bear away. These tidings to Earl Douglas came, In Scotland where he lay
;
Who
word
that,
He would
WAR.
With
fifteen
245
All chosen
Who knew
To aim
men
On Monday
And long before high noon the}' had A hundred fat bucks slain;
rp
Then, having dined, the drovers went To rouse the deer again.
hills,
Well able to endure; And all their rear, with special care, That day was guarded sure.
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods The nimble deer to take. That with their cries the hills and dales
An
echo
shrill did
make.
Lord riercy
To view
Quoth
he,
me
here;
longer would I stay; With that a brave young gentleman Thus to the earl did sav
:
No
24G
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
His men
in
SPIRIT.
armor bright; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears All marching in our sight;
" All
men
of pleasant Tividale,
;
Fast by the river Tweed " " Then cease your sports/' Earl Tiercy said, And take your bows with speed;
''
"
me,
my
countrymen,
Your courage forth advance; For never was there champion yet,
In Scotland or in France,
"
man
for
man.
With him
to break a spear."
Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed. Most like a baron bold, Eode foremost of his company, \\'hose armor shone like fe^ cold.
"
Show me,"
men you
be,
That, without
my
And
The
kill
my
first
man
Was
noble Piercy, he
WAR.
f
247
Who
''
said,
^ye
list
not to declare,
be
:
Yet
will
we spend our
dearest blood
And
oath,
"Ere thus will out-braved be, One of us two shall die; I know thee well, an earl thou art,
1
Lord Piercy, so
*'
am
I.
But
it
were.
me
And
set
our men
" Accursed be he," Earl Piercy said, " liy whom this is denied."
Then
Who
AVitherington was his name, " I would not have it told said,
king, for shame,
To Henry, our
" That e'er
my caj)lain fought on foot, And I stood looking on. You two be earls," said \\'ith('riugtou, And a scjuire alone;
'" I
248
POEMS OF NATIONAL
" I
SPIRIT.
'11 do the best that do I may, While I have power to stand; While I have power to wield mv sword I '11 fight with heart aud hand."
Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent, As chieftain stout and good;
As
And
But
still
bows away, swords so bright; They And now shari> blows, a heavy shower.
straight their
And throwing
grasped their
On
shields
and helmets
light.
They closed
full fast
No
slackness there
WAR.
And many
a gallant
249
gentleman
And how
Did gush
water
clear.
At
last these two stout earls did meet; Like captains of great might, Like lions wode, they laid on lode,
And made
a cruel fight.
They fought until they both did sweat, \A'ith swords of tempered steel,
Until the blood, like drops of rain. They trickling down did feel.
"Yield
''
thee, Lord Piercy," Douglas said, In faith I will thee bring Where thou shalt high advanced be
By James, our
"
Scottish king.
Thy ransom
And
Thou
do scorn
I will
250
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,A deep and deadly blow
;
Who
"
never spake more words than these Fight on, my merry men all
;
Then leaving life. Earl Piercy took The dead man by the hand;
And said, " Earl Douglas, for thy Would 1 had lost my land.
" In truth,
^A'ith
life
my very heart doth bleed sorrow for thy sake; For sure a moie redoubted knight
iMischance did never take."
Who saw Earl Douglas die. Who straight in wrath did vow
Upon
Sir
avenge
And
Without
all,
WAR.
And tlii'oujih Earl Piercv's body He thrust hi hateful spear.
With such vehonieut
force
251
then
and might
He
The
did his body gore, stall' ran through the other side
large cloth-yard
and more.
die,
stain.
An
The noble
was
slain.
He had
Made
bow bent
in his
;
hand,
of a trusty tree An arrow of a cloth-yard long To the hard head haled he.
Against Sir
Hugh Mountgomery
So right the shaft he set, The gray goose wing that was thereon In his heart's blood was wet.
This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun
;
For when lliey rung the evening-bell The battle scarce was done.
slain
252
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And
SPIRIT.
with Sir George and stout Sir James, Both knights of good account, Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess
did surmount.
For Witheriugton my heart is woe That ever he slain should be, For when his legs were hewn in two, He knelt and fought on his knee.
And
Sir
Hugh Mountgomery,
Sir Charles Murray, that from the field One foot would never flee ;
Sir Charles
Murray
of Ratcliff, too,
His sister's son was he; Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed,
be.
And
the Lord Maxwell in like case Did with Earl Douglas die Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,
:
Scarce
fifty-five
did
fly.
Of
fifteen
hundred Englishmen,
fifty-three
;
slain.
WAR.
They washed their wouuds iu brinish But all would not prevail.
Their bodies, bathed in purjde blood, They bore with them away;
253
tears,
They kissed them dead a thousand times, Ere they were clad in clay.
Where
heavy news," King James did say; Scotland can witness be have not any captain more Of such account as he."
"
"Now God
'*'
will no bettor be; have trust within my realm Five hundred as good as he:
Since
I
't
"
Yet shall not Scots or Scotland say IJut I will vengeance take; 'II be revenged on them all
sake."
254
POEMS OF NATIONAL
This vow
full
SPIRIT.
Humbledown
fift}'
With
lords of high
renown
And
Made by
God save the king, and bless this With plenty, joy, and peace;
land,
And
'Twixt noblemen
may
cease.
ANONYMOUS.
The king
"
O whare
To
sail this
spake an eldern knight, Sat at the king's right knee, " Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
O up and
That ever
letter,
And
sealed
it
WAR.
And
sent
it
2 -uu
Was
"
walkiui!'e>
on the strund.
To Xoroway, to Norowav, To Xoi'oway o'er the faem The king's daughter of Noioway,
;
'T
is
lier
hame."
The first \\ ord that Sir i'atrick read, Sae loud loud laughed he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his e'e.
"
O wha
And
is
tauld
king
o'
me.
of
tlie
year,
Be it wind, be it weet, be il hail, be Our sliip must sail the faeiu; The king's daughter of Noroway, 'T is we must letch her hame."
it sleet.
They h(\sed their sails on Monenday morn, Wi' a' tlie speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway, Upon a Wodeusday.
Th('_\
liadna been a week, a week, In Noroway, lui twae, \\'Iicii that the lords o' Noroway liegan aloud to say,
256
"
POEMS OF XATIONAL
a'
SPIRIT,
Ye Scottishmen spend
And a' our queeuis fee." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!
Fu' loud
"
1
hear ye
lie.
brought as much white monie, * my men and me, And I brought a half-fou f o' gude red goud, Out o'er the sea wi' me.
I
For
As gaue
"
"
Make ready, make ready, my merrymen Our gude ship sails the morn." Now, ever alake, my master dear,
I
a'
" I
saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And, if we gang to sea, master, I fear we '11 come to harm."
They hadna
sailed a league, a league, but league barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and And gurly grew the sea.
the
wind blew
loud,
The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, Till a' her sides were torn.
"
where
will I get a
To take my helm
* Suffice.
t Tl'e
WAR.
Till I got
257
up
To
"
see
if I
I, a sailor gude, the helm iu baud, Till you go up to the tall top-mast; But I fear you '11 ne'er spy laud."
here
am
To take
He hadna gane
a step, a step,
step hut barely ane, Wheu a bout Hew out of our goodly ship, And the salt sea it came iu.
"
o'
silken claith,
Another o' the twine, And wap them iuto our ship's And let na the sea come in."
side.
They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And they wapped them round that gude
side,
ship's
But
still
the sea
came
in.
laith, laitli,
To weet their cork-heeled shoon! But lang or a' the play was played, They wat their hats aboon.
the feather-bed.
;
tlie
gudo
lord's son.
17
258
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The ladyes wraug their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake of their true loves; For them they '11 see na mair.
lang, lang,
may
the ladyes
sit,
Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come
And
lang, lang, may the maidens sit, Wi' their gond kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves! For them they '11 see na mair.
And
there lies gmle Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
ANONYMOUS BALLAIX
buUatl exists in
Denmark, and
in otlier
European
countries.
Douglas
"
Scotcli point out Blackhouse, on the wild Burn, a tributary of the Yarrow, as the scene of
The
the tragedy.]
EiSE up, rise up, now. Lord Douglas," she says, " And put on your armor so bright Let it never be said, that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night.
;
my
And
WAR.
259
And
P'oi-
take better care of vour vounsest sister, voiii- eldest \s awa the last iiii;lit."
a dapj)le grey,
side,
Aud
Lord
To
see
what he could
see,
And there he spyed her seven Come ridiiiL! o over the lea.
'"
brethren bold,
Light (low 11, light down. Lady Marg'ret,'' he said, '' And hold my steed in your hand, Until that against your seven brothers bold,
Aud your
in her milk-white hand. never shed one tear. Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And
And
who
loved her so
"
O
u
hold your baud. Lord William she said, Pop vour strokes thev are wond'rous sair;
I
''
True lovers I can get many a aiie. But a father 1 can never get mair.''
she
It
's
ta'en out
o'
licr
liandkercliief,
was
And
aye she dightfd her father's bloody wounds, That were redder liiaii tlie wine.
2G0
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
cliiise,
SPIRIT.
said,
O
"
chuse,
Lady Marg'ret," he
" I
whether will ye gang or bide? " '11 gang, 1 '11 gang, Lord William," she For ye have left me no other guide."
said,
And
And
they rade on, and on they rade, a' by the light of the moon,
Until they cam to yon wan water, And there they lighted down.
They lighted down to tak a drink Of the spring that ran sae clear;
Hold up, hold up. Lord William," she says, " For 1 fear that you are slain " " 'T is naething but the shadow of my scarlet
!
cloak.
That shines
in the
And
they rade on, and on they rade, a' by the light of the moon.
Until they cam to his mother's ha' door, And there they lighted down.
" Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, " Get up, and let me in
!
WAR.
Get up, get up, lady mother," he says,
''
261
For
this night
my
"
he says,
xVnd
hi )
Lady Marg'ret
close at
my
back,
And
Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Marg'ret lang ere day
And all true lovers that go thegither. May they have mair luck than they
Lord William was buried
in St.
Mary's kirk,
rose.
Lady Margaret in Mary's (juire; Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red
And
out
o'
And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain thev wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel.
They were twa
lovers dear.
But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough For he pulled up the bonny brier,
I
And
liaug
't
in St.
Mary's
loch.
ANONYMOUS BALLAD.
262
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
the spear;
They galloped through the meadow-grass, They sought the foresfs gloom, And loudest rang Sir Morven's laugh.
And
lightest tost his plume. There 's no delight by day or night Like hunting in the morn; So busk ye, gallant gentlemen.
And sound
They rode into the dark greenwood By ferny dell and glade. And now and then upon their cloaks The yellow sunshine played;
They heard the timid forest-birds Break off amid their glee, They saw the startled leveret. But not a stag did see. Wind, wind the horn, on summer morn Though ne'er a buck appear, There 's health for horse and gentleman
A-hunting of the deer
!
side
Where thick the leafage grew. And when they bent the branches back
The sunbeams darted through
;
WAR.
Sir
"
2G3
Morveu
And
to his
!
comrades spake,
Now
shall find a stag quiet Beside the Biowuies' Lake. Then sound not on the bugle-horn,
we
break,
Now
A
And
they have reached the Brownies' Lake, blue eye in the wood,
on
its
And
Ah, better for those gentlemen, Than horn and slender spear, Were morion and buckler true,
A-hunting of the deer.
Not one
of that brave
company
Shall hunt the deer again; Some fell beside the Brownies' Tool, Some dropt in dell or glen;
An arrow
Ills
And swimming
bank
lie left a bloody wake. Ah, what avails the silver horn.
And what
There
's
(lie
ollici-
2G4
POEM& OF NATIONAL
f^PlRIT.
O'er ridge and hollow sped the horse Besprent with blood and foam,
until at eve
He brought
his
master home.
How
''
tenderly- the
The
cruel dart
False Tirreil shot the bolt," she said, " That my Sir Morven slew "
Deep While gayly shines the morn Hang up the broken spear, and blow A dirge upon the horn. WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER {Paul Hervies).
:
Fair stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance. Nor now to prove our chance
But putting to the main, At Kause, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry,
WAR.
Where
the Fiencli generiil lay
his power,
^^'itll all
265
To the king sending; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile,
Yet, with an angry smile,
Their
fall
portending.
And
Though
viiey to
one be ten,
Have ever
By fame been
raised.
And
for myself, quoth he, my full rest shall be; England ne'er mourn for me,
This
2Nor
Victor
Or on
and Cressv tell, ^^'hen most their pride did swell, Under our swords they fell
;
No
less
our
skill is
206
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
Than when our grandsire
Claiming the regal
seat,
^SPIRIT.
great,
By many
a warlike feat
lilies.
The Duke of York so dread The eager vaward led; With the main Henry sped.
Amongst
his
henchmen,
O Lord how
!
On
They now
by,
Like a storm, suddenly. The English archery Struck the French horses
WAR.
That
like to serpents stimg, Piercing the weather;
2G7
When down their bows they threw, And forth their bilboes drew, And on the French thev Hew,
Not one was tardy; Ai'nis were from shoulders sent;
Scalps to the teeth were rent
;
Down
And many
a decj*
wound
lent,
And many
Clarence,
so bright,
268
Warwick
Crispin's day
this noble fray,
To England to carry O, when shall Englishmen With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed again Such a King Harry? MICHAEL DRAYTON.
PEOM
"
KING HENRY
V.,"
ACT
111.
SC.
1.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall up with our English dead!
;
nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness, and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
In peace, there
's
of the tiger;
summon up
the blood,
WAR.
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage: Theu lend the eye a terrible aspect;
269
Let it iry through the portage of the head, Like the brass cannon let the brow o'erwhelm
;
it,
As
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, t^willed with "the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To
On,
^Vhose blood
is fet
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these i)arts, from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonor not your mothers; now attest. That those whom you called fathers, did beget you! Be copy now to men of grosser blood. And teach them how to war! And you, good veomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt
not;
For there is none of you so mean and base. That liaih not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in -the slips, Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot;
Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge. and Cry (lod for llarry England George
Saint
SlIAKESrEARB.
270
POE}m OF NATIONAL
HPIRIT.
STEED
sword
The neighyinge of the war-horse prowde, Th^ rowliuge of the drum, The clangor of the trumpet lowde, Be souudes from heaven that come;
kuightes,
Maj^ tole from heaven an angel bright, And rouse a fiend from hell.
Then mounte! then mounte, brave gallants And don jour helmes amaine;
Deathe's couriers, fame and honor, call
all,
Us
fill
sword-hilt
'11
's
in
Heart-whole we
Let piping swaine, and craven wight. Thus weepe and puling crye;
Our business
is like
men
to fight.
And
hero-like to die!
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.
WAR.
271
GIVE A ROUSE.
King Ciiaulks, and wlio King Cluii'les, and who
Give a rouse: here King Charles!
's,
'II
do
liiiii
rimlit
's
now? now?
in liell's despite
uow,
Who gave me the goods tliat went since? "Who raised me the house that sank once?
A\'ho helped
me
AA'ho
found me
{Chorus)
11
's
///
now?
now^
King Charles! To whom used my boy George quaff else, l>y the old fool's side that begot him? For whom did lie cheer and laugh else, ^^'llil(' XolTs damned troojicrs shot him?
(Chorus)
irjio
'II
do
Jiim riglil
figlil
now?
noivf
irho
's,
's
ripe for
King Charles!
ROHKKT HKOWNINO.
272
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
NASEBY.
[June, 1645.]
O,
wherefore come ye
north,
forth, in
feet
red?
And
And whence
ye tread?
O, evil
was the
:
root,
and
bitter
was the
fruit,
And
haughty and
the strong, Who sate in the high places and slew the saints of
God.
It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, That we saw their banners dance and their cui-
And
And
was
essenced hair,
Astley, and Sir the Rhine.
of
WAR.
273
Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword, The General rode along us to form us to the tight; NVhen a nmrniuriug sound broke out, and swelled
into a shout
Among
right.
And hark
!
on the shore,
!
The cry of battle rises along their charging line! For God for the cause for the Church for the
I
laws
of England,
and Rupert
of the
his clarions
and
;
drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of ^Yhitehall They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes! Close your ranks! For Rupert never comes but to conquer, or to fall.
We are broken They lush on They are heie We are gone Our left is borne before them like stubble on the
I I
bbist.
to
18
274
!
POEMS OF NATIONAL
!
SPIRIT.
Hark hark what means the trampling of horsemen on our rear? Whose banner do I see, bojs ? 'T is he thank God
!
't is
Brave Oliver
is
here.
all stooping low, their points all in a row, Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on
Their heads
the dikes,
Our
And
to
Bar
And
he,
he turns, he
;
!
flies
: shame on
those cruel
eyes
torture,
war
the plain; and, ere ye strip the slain. First give another stab to make your search se-
cure
Then shake from sleeves and pockets their broadpieces and lockets, The tokens of the wanton, the i)lunder of the poor.
Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts were gay and bold.
WAR.
When you
to-day
kissed your
;
275
to
lily
hands
your lemans
And
the rocks, Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey.
^^'here be
and
And
your tongues that late mocked at heaven and fate? the tinkers that once were so busy with your
hell
blades.
Your perfumed
your oaths
!
and
Your
Down down
!
and
of
the crown
"With the
lielial of
Mammon
is
the Pope!
There
is woe Durham's
in
wail in
his
stalls;
And
And
mourn her
chil-
trendile
the edge
of
And
when
(iod
hath
!
TUOMAS
27G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Barrel to barrel
Frere
But
This
All
till locks grew hot; dead, and Lucas was gone, the drum still beat and the tiag went on.
fell
caught from a swinging sabre. had from a long night's labor; When Chester * flamed, and the streets were red, In splashing shov^er fell the molten lead, The fire sprang up, and the old roof split, The fire-ball burst in the middle of it With a clash and a clang the troopers they ran. For the siege was over ere well began.
I
This
(Lucky my head 's not a hazel nut) The horse they raced, and scudded and swore; There were Leicestershire gentlemen, seventy
score
;
Up came the Lobsters,'' covered with steel Down we went with a stagger and reel; Smaslrat the flag, I tore it to rag,
And
carried
it off
^'
in
my
foraging bag.
WAR.
277
FONTENOY.
[May
11, 1745.]
col-
umn
And
failed,
filled
And
As
Dutch
auxiliary.
De
Ilarri's
wood
the British
The Freucli artillery drove them bark diminished and dispersed. The bloody Duke of Cumberland beheld with anxious eye,
And
at tlieir head.
mount
the
hill,
fire,
moving right
onward
still,
278
POEMS OF NATIONAL
furnace-blast,
SPIRIT.
bul-
showering
fast
And on
their course.
With ready
at
hostile force.
More
summer
flies,
French
tirailleurs
rush round
As
stubble
to
the
lava-tide,
;
French squadrons
tore, still
on
re-
they marched and fired Fast from each volley grenadier and voHigeur
tired.
''
Push on my household cavalry," King Louis madly cried. To death they rush, but rude their shock, not unavenged they died.
On through
"Not
yet,
the
camp
the
columa trod
"
King
rein.
my
liege,"
Saxe interposed;
the Irish
troops remain."
been
vehement,
and
true.
WAR.
"
"'
279
Lord Clare," he said, "'you have your wish; there are your Saxou foes The Marshal almost smiles to see how furiously he
I
^ues.
How
wear,
who
're
wont
to be so
fittv
was
women's parting cry; Their priesthood hunted down like wolves, their
country overthrown
J:^acli
looks as
alone.
if
revenge for
all
were staked on
him
ever yet elsewhere, Ruslied on to fight a nobler band than these proud exiles were.
charge!''
Like mountain-storm
rush on those ticry bands. in is the lOnglish column now, and fnini their
\(lloys
grow.
thcv have, thev
Yi'i
They dress
ranks upon
tiie hill,
to face that
battle-wind
men
Itehind
280
POEMS OF NATIONAL
volley crashes from the surging smoke,
SPIRIT.
One
tlieir line,
when through
the
in their hands,
On
fierce
Like lions leaping at a fold, when mad with hunger's pang, Eight up against the English line the Irish exiles sprang; Bright was their steel, 't is bloody now, their guns are filled with gore;
files
and
desperate strength, paused, rallied, scattered, fled ; The green hillside is matted close with dying and with dead.
strove
with
Across the plain and far away passed on that hideous wrack,
in
upon their
On Foutenoy, on Foutenoy,
With bloody plumes the
fought and
won
THOMAS OSBORNE
DAVIS.
WAR.
281
Op Nelson and
the north
Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep i)roudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand
And
Lay
their
the lofty British line It was ten of April morn by the chime.
On
As
And
For
And
"Hearts
cried;
when each
gun
From
its
Of the sun.
282
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
!
SPIRIT.
Again
again
again
the liavoe did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane
And
To our cheering sent us back Their shots along the deep slowly Then ceased and all is wail,
;
boom^
sail,
victor then.
As he hailed them o'er the wave: Ye are brothers ye are men And we conquer but to save
!
So peace instead of death let us bring; But yield, proud foe, thy fleet.
With the crews, at England's And make submission meet To our king."
feet.
Then Denmark blessed our chief, That he gave lier wounds repose; And the sounds of joy and grief
From
As
her people wildly rose, death withdrew his shades from the dav.
While the sun looked smiling bright O'er a wide and woful sight.
Where
Died away.
Now
joy, old
England, raise!
WAR.
And
yet,
283
Let us
Elsinore
Brave hearts! to Britaiu's pride Oiuc so faithl'iil aud so true, Ou the deck of fame that died, With the gallant good Kiou Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave! While the billow mournful rolls, Aud the mermaid's song condoles,
Of
the brave!
THOMAS
CA.MrBELL.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rani[)art we hurried;
Not
O'er the grave where our hero
a soldier discharged his farewell shot we buried.
buried him darkly, at dead of night. The sods with our bayonets turning; By the sti'uggling moonbeams' mis'ty light,
We
Aud
No
Not
284
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
But he lay, like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
was
And we
morrow.
We
thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed. And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
o'er his
away on
the billow
Lightly they
'11
's
gone,
And
But
upbraid him.
!
little he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him
But
was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly
firing.
From
We
carved not a
left
the field of his fame fresh and gory; line, and Ave raised not a stone
But we
his glory.
CHARLES WOLFE.
WAR.
285
" It
PICCIOLA."
was a Sergeant old and gray, Well singed and bronzed from siege and Went tramping in an army's wake Along the turnpike of tbe \illage.
For days and nights the winding host
pillage,
Had through the little place been marching, And ever loud the rustics cheered,
Till every throat
And
was
shrill
hurrahs,
Where he behind in step was keeping; But glancing down beside the road He saw a little maid sit weeping.
"
And how
is
A moment
"
Why
And
we('it'st
thou,
my
little
chit?"
harder.
ci-icd tlie
286
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
is this,
SPIRIT.
And how
my
When
all
That you,
"
strong, a sight, my baby beauty, To quicken silence into song And glorify the soldier's duty."
We
And
know,"
The
"
little
maid gave
'
soft replying;
And
"
Soldier,
think,
How many
xVre
little sisters'
brothers
going
all
away
to fight
And may
"
Why,
bless thee, child," the Sergeant said, His brawny hand her curls caressing,
To
find that
War 's
"
!
not
all
a blessing."
And
"
liless thee
And still the ringing shouts went u]) From doorway, thatch, and fields of
tillage;
WAR.
The
287
By one
The oak and cedar bend and ^vrithe When roars the wind through gap and braken; But 't is the tenderest reed of all That trembles tirst when Earth is shaken. ROBERT HENRY NEWELL.
WATERLOO.
[June
15, 1815.]
FROM
^^CIIILDE
HAROLD," CANTO
HI.
There was
And
lielgium's capital
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men A thousand hearts beat happily and when
; ;
its
voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes lo()ked love to eyes which sj)ake again, xVnd all went merry as a marriage-bell;
knell!
T)id ye not
't was but tlie wind, car rattling o'er the stony street; Oil with llie dance! let joy be unconflned! So sl('('|) Lill UKu-n, when Youth and Pleasure
hear it?
No;
Or
llie
meet
To chase
more.
But, hark!
the glow ing Hours with Hying feet, that heavy sound breaks in once
288
POEMS OF NATIONAL
if
SPIRIT.
;
As
the clouds
its eclio
would repeat
And
Arm
nearer, clearer, deadlier than before arm it is it is the cannon's opening roar
!
hall
amidst the
festival,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well ^Vhich stretched his father on a bloody bier.
And
He
field,
Ah then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress. And cheeks all pale which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press
!
The
life
Which
If
sighs ne'er
who would
guess
evermore should meet those mutual eyes Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could
rise!
And
was mounting in hot haste the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
there
:
speed,
WAR.
And And And
swiftly forming in the ranks of war; the deep thunder peal on peal afar; near, the beat of the alarming drum
289
Housed up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! they come they come
''
And
'*
Cameron's gathering"
The war-note
Have
heard, and
:
foes
How
in the
Savage and
fills
noon of night that pibroch thrills shrill! But with the breath which
till
the mountaineers
instills
With the tierce native daring which The stirring memory of a thousand
years.
And
with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er gTieves,
Dewy
Over the unreturning brnvO;,^ alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of
living valor, rolling on the foe,
And burning
VIII
and low,
19
290
POEMS OF NATIONAL
.SPIRIT.
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, the day
Battle's magniticeutly stern iuray The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which
!
when
rent
The earth
pent.
is
friend,
foe,
in
is hj-mned by loftier harps than mine; Yet one I would select from that proud throng. Partly because they blend me with his line,
Their praise
partly that I did his sire some wrong, partly that bright names will hallow song! his was of the bravest, and when showered
The death-bolts deadliest the thinned files along, Even where the thickest of war's tempest lowered.
Howard
nothing, had
such to give;
But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to
live,
and
fertile promise,
WAR.
Come
With
I
291
forth her
all
tinned from
not bring.
I
whom
each
And one as all a ghastlv gap did make In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach
Forget fulness were mercy for their sake; The Archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake Those whom they thirst for; though the sound
of
Mav
for a
Fame moment
soothe,
it
cannot slake
The fever of vain longing, and the name So honored but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim.
They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling,
moui-n
:
The tri'e will wither long before it fall The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn The roof-tree siid<s, but moulders on the hall
;
In massy hoariness; the ruined wall Stands wiien its wind-worn battlements are
gone
The bars survive the captive they enthrall; The day drags through though storms keep out
the sun
;
And
liius tJK'
on
I'^ven
as a broken niiiror, wlii<li the glass In every fragment multiplies, and makes thousand images of one that was
292
POEMS OF NATIONAL
still
SPIRIT.
more
it
breaks;
And
Living in shattered guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with il;s sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.
LORD BYRON.
Willie, fold your little hands; " " Let it drop, that soldier toy Look where father's picture stands,
Not a month
Who
this night may (never mind Mother's sob, my Willie dear) Cry out loud that He may hear
is
'^
Who
God
God
the
By
Alma River
child.
"
Ask no more,
Never heed
Any flag the wind may roll On thy heights, Sevastopol Willie, all to you and me
i'
!
it be,
WAR.
293
Where he stands no other word Stands God sure the child's prayers heard Kear the Alma River.
"V"
Ringing in the town to-day; That 's for victory. No knell swells For the many swept away,
Hundreds, thousands. Let us weep, We, who need not, just to keep Reason clear in thought and brain
morning comes again; dread morning tell ^^ho they were that fought and
Till the Till the third
fell
Bv
the
Alma
River.
Come, we "11 lay us down, my child; Poor the bed is, poor and hard But thy father, far exiled,
Willie, mark! Where he buries those who died Fighting lighting at his side
Bv
the
Alma
River.
make
nci-d
AN'lien
294
Say,
"
O God
the
By
will be
done
Half
Half a league onward, All iu the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Forward, the Light Brigade " he said ; Charge for the guns Into the valley of Death
!
!
''
Rode the
"
six
hundred.
Forward, the Light Brigade " Was there a man dismayed? Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered:
!
Theirs not to
make
reply,
Cannon Cannon
WAR.
Cannon
them and thundered Volleyed Stormed at with shot and Boldly they rode and well
in front of
;
295
shell,
;
Rode
Plunged in the battery-smoke, Kight through the line they broke: Cossack and Russian
Keeled from' the sabre-stroke. Shattered and sundered.
hundred.
Cannon to right of them. Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Volleyed and thundered:
Stormed at with shot and shell. While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thi-ough the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, .\II (li:il was left of them.
29G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made
All the world wondered.
Honor Honor
THAT last day in Lucknow fort! knew that it was the last That the enemy's lines crept surely And the end was coming fast.
O,
We
on,
To
It
And And
yield to that foe meant worse than death the men and we all worked on ;
roar,
was one day more of smoke and then it would all be done.
fair,
Wasted with fever in the siege, And her mind was wandering.
She lay on the ground,
"
in her Scottish plaid.
;
And I took her head on mv knee When my father comes hame frae
she said, " Oh then please
!
the pleugh,"
wauken me."
WAR.
She
slept like a child on her father's floor, In the flecking of woodbine-shade,
297
When the house-dog sprawls by the And the mother's wheel is stayed.
It
open door,
And hopeless waiting for death And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired
Seemed scarce
I
child,
to
draw her
breath.
sank to sleep and I had my dream Of an English village-lane. And wall and garden; but one wild scream lirought me back to the roar again.
;
And drew me
my hand
:
The Mcliregor's? O,
It
's
ken
it
weel;
!
the grandest
bless thae
o'
them
a'
"God
And
bonnv Ilielanders!
We 're
fell
saved
we
're
saved
''
!
she cried
Flowed forth
Along the
Uad
falk'u
298
POEMS OF NATIONAL
they started
life
SPIRIT.
there to die;
And
But was
They listened for life; the rattling fire Far ofif, and the far-off roar, Were all and the colonel shook his
;
And
But Jessie said, " The slogan 's done But wiuna ye hear it noo. The Camphells are comin'? It 's no' a dream; " Our succors hae broken
;
through
We
heard the roar and the rattle afar, But the pipes we could not hear; So the men plied their work of hopeless war And knew that the end was near.
It
ere
it
made
its
:
A
It
wav,
thrilling, ceaseless
sound
was no noise from the strife afar, Or the sappers under ground. was
the pipes of the Highlanders
!
It
they jdayed Auld Lang Syne; It came to our men like the voice of God,
And now
And
line.
And they wept, and shook one another's hands, And the women sobbed in a crowd And every one knelt down where he stood, And we all thanked God aloud.
;
WAR.
That happr day, when we welcomed them,
299
Jessie first;
And
the general gave her his hand, and cheers Like a storm from the soldiers burst.
And
Marching round and round our line; And our joyful cheers were broken with
As
Lang
tiyne.
ROBERT
T. S.
LOWELL.
DANNY DEEVEK.
"What
"
on-Parade.
To turn vou
Files-on-Parade.
've
Sergeant said.
For
tli(\v 're
hangin'
Danny
liear the
Dead March
The reginieut 's in 'ollow s(piare they're hangin" him to-day; They 've taken of his buttons off an' cut his strij>es away,
An" llicy'rc Jiangin' Dann.y Deever in the mornin'.
"What makes
said
on
rai'ade.
300
" It
's
"What makes
that front-rank
man
fall
down?"
"A
says Files-on-Parade. touch o' sun, a touch o' sun," the Color-Ser-
geant said. The}" are haugin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round, They 'ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is cofiln
An'
'e '11
in'
shootin' hound:
're
O
" 'Is cot " 'E
Danny Deever
in
the
was
Parade.
's
" I 've
drunk
'is
beer a score
o'
on-Parade.
" 'E
's
geant said.
mark
For
'e
'im to
'is
place,
you
must
Nine 'undred of
disgrace,
'is
While they
"
're
hangin'
Danny Deever
in the
mornin'.
What *s
WAR.
" It
's
301
Dannv
geant said.
"What's
" It
's
that that
Files-on-Parade.
said.
're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quickstep play, The roginient 's in coluuin, an' they 're marchin' us away;
For they
Ho!
.
the
shakin',
an'
they *11 want their beer to-day. After hangiu' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
RUDYARD KIPLING.
forth
in
the
morning,
hrightly beaming in every face? Fearing no danger, the Saxon foe scorning,
thought they of defeat or disgrace! Fallen is their chieftain his glory departed
Little
How;
Uast
tlioii
no
i)ily, tliou
More
cruel
still
302
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Death
is behind them, and death is before them; Faster and faster rolls on the dark wave;
One wailing
Silent
cry
o'er
them;
and deep
Fiom
the Welsh of
Translation of
THOMAS
TALIESSIN. OLIPIIANT.
For Scotland's and for freedom's The Bruce his part had played,
In
five
right
Been compiered and dismayed Once more against the English host His band he led, and once more lost The meed for which he fought; And now from battle, faint and worn, The homeless fugitive forlorn
A
And
cheerless was that resting-place For him who claimed a throne His canopy, devoid of grace. The rude, rough beams alone; The heather couch his only bed, Yet Avell I ween had slumber fled
:
From couch
of eider-down
Through darksome night till dawn of day, Absorbed in wakeful thoughts he lay Of Scotland and her crown.
WAR.
The sun roso
brijihtly,
303
and
its
gloam
And
tinged with liglit each shapeless Which roofed the lowly shed;
wistful eve,
beam
From beam to beam of that rude cot; And well the insect's toilsome lot
.
The wary si)ider threw; In vain the filmy line was sped, For powerless or untrue Each aim appeared, and back recoiled
The patient
insect, six
times foiled,
;
And yet uncon(iuered still And soon i]\o Bruce, with eager eye, Saw him prepare once more to try
His courage, strength, and
skill.
One
and
-
last
The hero
And on
That
hung
fast
Slight as
Which even
'*
he
read,"
And
304
POEMS OF NATIONAL
BANNOCKBURN.
[June
24, 1314.]
SPIRIT.
Scots,
Scots,
wha hae
wham
bed,
Now 's
now
's
the hour
See the front o' battle lour: See approach proud Edward's power,^
will be a traitor
knave?
can
flee!
Wha
for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'? Let him follow me!
We
every foe!
ROBERT BURNS.
WAR.
30.J
SONG OF CLAN-ALPINE.
FROM
"
II.
Loud
Their voices in
Eadi boatman, bendinp, to his oar, Witli measured sweep tlie burthen
Tn such wild cadence, as the breeze
bore,
Makes throujiii December's leafless The chorus first could Allen know,
'*
trees.
And
Koderigh Vich Alpine, ho! ieroe!" near, and nearer, as they rowed,
in triumj)h
advances!
Honored and blessed be the evergreen IMne! Long may the tree, in his b;inner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it liai)py dew. Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shouts back again,
"
Ours
is no sapling chance-sown by the fountain, IJlooming at IJeltane, in winter to fade; When the whii-lwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain.
in her shade.
20
306
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Meuteith and Breadalbane, then, Echo his praise again, " Roderigh Vieh Aljiine dhu, ho ieroe "
! !
Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannachar's groans to our slogan replied;
Glen Luss and Eoss-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie dead on her
side.
twine
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! Loud should Clan-Alpine then
"
Ring from the deepmost glen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ieroe " SIR WALTER SCOTT.
! !
WAR.
BEAL' AN DHUINE.
[lili.J
307
FROM
"
VI.
There
The deer has sonjilit the brake The small birds will not sing aloud, The springing ti-out lies still, So darklj glooms yon thunder-cloud. That swathes, as with a purple shroud,
lienledi's distant hill.
it the tlmnder's solemn sound That nuitters deep and dread. Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread?
Is
Is
it
That on the thicket streams, Or do they Hash on s[)ear and lance The sun's rclii-ing beams?
I see tlie
I
see the Moray's silver star Wave o'(>r llio cloud of Saxon war.
Thai up
tiic
worth
Icii
years of peaceful
life.
One glance
Their
(licii-
array!
liglil-ariiicd
Surveyed the
1aiiglel
ground,
308
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, A twilight forest frowned, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear.
The stern battalia crowned. clashed, no clarion rang. Still were the pipe and drum; Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, The snileu march was dumb. There breathed no wind their crests Or wave their flags abroad;
No cymbal
to shake,
Scarce the
frail
That shadowed
Nor spy a trace of living thing, Save when they stirred the roe;
The host moves
like a
its
Where
rise
no rocks
High swelling, dark, and slow. The lake is passed, and now they gain A narrow and a broken plain,
Before the Trosach's rugged jaws; here tlie horse and spearmen pause, While, to explore the dangerous glen. Dive through the pass the archer men.
And
At once
Within that dark and narrow dell. As all the fiends, from heaven that fell, Had pealed the banner cry of hell! Forth from the pass in tumult driven, Liice chatT l)cf()re the winds of heaven, The archery appear
:
WAR.
For
life! for life! their tlight
300
they ply
Aud shriek, uud shout, and battle-cry, And jdaids and bonnets waving high, And broadswords Hashing to the sk}',
Are maddening
in the rear.
Onward
How
IJefore that tide of flight and chase, shall it keep its rooted place.
spearmen's twilight " " Down, down," cried Mar, your lances down
The
wood?
of lances
brown
At once
And
The
"
\\'e'll quell
As
^Ve
their
They come as
'11
as forest deer,
drive
The
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, Right onward did Clan-Alpine come.
Above the
Was
And
tide, each broadsword bright blandishing like beam of light. Each targe was dark Inflow;
villi
^^'h('Il
circle of sportsmen,
snrroimding
tlie
deer.
310
I
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
heard the lance's shivering crash, the whirlwind rends the ash ; I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, As if a hundred anvils rang
As when
"My
I see,"
he cried,
Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake, Upon them with the lance " The horsemen dashed among the rout. As deer break through the broom
;
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, They soon make lightsome room.
backward borne
Where, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle-lioru Were worth a thousand men
!
And
refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was poured
;
so black and steep, Eeceives her roaring linn. As the dark cavei-ns of the deep Suck tlse wild wliirl})ool in, So did the deep and darksome ])ass
Devour the battle's mingled mass; None linger now upon the plain.
Save those who ne'er
shall fight again. SIR WALTER SCOTT.
WAR.
311
rir.ROCH of Donuil Dim, Pilji'ocli of Donuil, Wake tliv wild voice anew,
Summon
Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.
Come
True heart that wears one. every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd. The flock without shelter; Leave the corjtse uninterred,
312
POEMS OF NATIONAL
Come
SPIRIT.
Come
as the waves come, when Navies are stranded; Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster.
Chief, vassal, page
Wide
how
Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set Pibroch of Donuil Dim,
!
SIR
WALTER
SCOTT.
FLODDEN FIELD.
[September, 1513.]
FROM
"
MARMION," CANTO
VI.
A MOMENT
And
then Lord Marmion stayed. breathed his steed, his men arrayed.
his band,
He
Hence might they see the full array Of either host for deadly fray
;
WAR.
313
Their marshalled lines stretched east and west, And fronted north and south,
Not in the close successive rattle That breathes the voice of modern battle, But slow and far between. The hillock gained. Lord M arm ion stayed:
" Here, by this cross,'' he gently said, "You well may view the scene;
O, think of ^rarmion in thy prayer!^ Thou wilt not? well, no less my care
With ten picked archers of my With England if the day go hard, To Berwick speed amain, But, if we conquer, cruel maid.
train;
laid,
He waited not for answer there. And would not mark the maid's despair,
the discontented look
From
either squire: but sjturred amain, And, dashing through the battle-plain, His wav to Surrev took.
still
On which
ujjon the hill for far the day was spent) western sunbeams now were bent.
;
(
its
meaning knew.
314
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Could plain their distant comrades view: Sadly to Blount did Eustace say,
"
No hope
office here to stay of gilded spurs to-day. Rut, see look up, on Flodden bent
Unworthy
!
The Scottish
And sudden, as he spoke, From the sharp ridges of the hill, All downward to the banks of Till
Was
wreathed
in sable
smoke.
Volumed and vast, and rolling far, The cloud enveloped Scotland's war, As down the hill thev broke: Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone. Announced their march; their tread alone,
At times their warning trumpet blown. At times a stilled hum, Told England, from his mountain-throne King James did rushing come.
foes,
close.
smoke and
dust.
With sword-sway and with lance's And such a yell was there.
Of sudden and portentous birth. As if men fought upon the earth
thrust;
And
O,
life
and death were in the shout, Eecoil and rally, charge and rout. And triumph and despair.
WAR.
At
length tlie freslieuing western blast Aside the shroud of battle cast
;
315
And, first, the ridge of mingled spears Above the brightened cloud appears;
And
As
pennons Hew, storm the white sea-mew. Then marked they, dashing broad and The broken billows of the war.
in the
far,
And
But naught distinct they see: Wi<le raged the battle on the plain; *5i>ears shook, and falchions flashed amain;
Fell England's arrow-liight like rain; Crests rose, and stoo]ted, and rose again,
disorderly. the scene of tumult, high They saw Lord ilarmiou's falcon lly And stainless Tunstall's banner white,
Wild and
Amid
And
Still
stubborn llighliuidman,
^^ith Huntley
left, unseen (he while, Stanley broke J^nnox and Argyle; Thougli there (he western mountaineer Rushed w itli bare bosom on the spear.
Far on the
And And
(lung the feeble targe aside. with both liands the broadsword plied.
310
POEJilS
OF NATIONAL 8PIBIT.
'T was vain: But Fortune, on the right, With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight. Then fell that spotless banner white, The Howard's lion fell
;
Yet
still
With wavering flight, while fiercer grew Around the battle-yell. The Border slogan rent the sky A Home a Gordon was the cry Loud were the clanging blows Advanced, forced back, now low, now
!
!
high,
The pennon sunk and rose; As bends the bark's mast in the
gale.
sail,
When
No
"
swear,
Fitz-Eustace, you with Lady Clare May bid your beads, and patter prayer, I gallop to the host." And to the fray he rode amain.
Followed by all the archer train. The fiery youth, with desperate charge, Made, for a space, an opening large, The rescued banner rose. But darkly closed the war around. Like pine-tree rooted from the ground. It sunk among the foes. Then Eustace mounted too; yet stayed,
As loath When,
WAR.
from his head, and saddle bloody red, Housing Lord Marniion's steed rushed by;
317
The
And
Eustace, maddening at the sight, look and sign to Clara cast. To mark he would return in haste,
Then plunged
Perchance her reason stoops or reels Perchance a courage, not her own, Braces her mind to desperate tone. The scattered van of England wheels; She only said, as loud in air The tumult roared. " Is Wilton there?"
;
fly, or, maddened by despair, Fight but to die.'' Is Wilton there?" With that, straight up the hill there rode
They
Two horsemen drenched with gore. And in their arms, a helpless load,
bore.
His hand still strained the broken brand; His arms were smeared with blood and sand.
Dragged fi-oin among the liorses' feet, With dinted shield, and helmet beat, The falcon-crest and plumage g<me, Can that be liaughty Marmion Young r.lount his armor did unlace, And, gazing on his ghastly face.
I .
Said, I5y Saint George, he's gone! Tliat sjjear-wound hiis <ur master sped,
"
And see the deep cut on his head! Good night to Marmion."
318
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
cease:
He
When, doffed his casque, he felt free Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare:
air,
"Where
Cry
's
'
Marmion
to the rescue
'
!
vain
!
Last of my race, on battle-plain That shout shall ne'er be heard ngain Yet my last thought is England's: fly, To Dacre bear my signet-ring:
his squadrons up to bring: Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie;
Tell
him
Tunstall
lies
field,
His
Edmund
is
reft;
fire,
With Chester
Or victory and England 's lost. Must I bid twice? hence, varlets! flv! Leave Marmion here alone to die."
They parted, and alone he lay Clare drew her from the sight away, Till pain rung forth a. lowly moan. And half he murmured, " Is there none, Of all my halls have nurst.
:
Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring, Of blessed water from the spring.
To slake my
d^'ing thirst?
"
WAR.
O woinau
I
319
in
By the light quivering aspen made; >A'hen pain and anguish wring the brow,
ministering angel thou Scarce were the piteous accents said. When, with the Baron's casque, the maid
I
To
The
Sees but the dying man. She stooped her by the runneFs side, But in abhorrence backward drew; For, oozing from the mountain's side.
Where raged
the war, a dark-red tide AVas curdling in the streamlet blue. Where shall she turn! behold her mark A little fountain cell,
Where water,
Above, some
gviuh
:
clear as diamond-spark,
fell.
In a stone basin
ueavy
:
pilcjvim
:
rtvinli
:
m\A
:
pray
:
^OK
She
the
:
hind
:
isoul
:
of
<^yliil
:
6vuy
u'cll
:
^Vho
huilt
thi.si
cvos.^
iuul
filled
And
A monk
A
pious
To dubious verge of battle fought. To shrive the dying, bless the dead.
Deep drank Lord Marmif)n of (he wave, And, as she stooj)ed his brow to lave,
.320
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
"
SPIRIT.
"
"
Is it the hand of Chu-e," he said, Or injured Constance, bathes mj head? Then, as remembrance rose,
"
Speak not to me of
I
shrift or prayer
Short space, few words, are mine to spare; Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!"
"Alas!" she
said,
"the while,
;
Holy Isle," Lord Marmion started from the ground, As light as if he felt no wound; Though in the action burst the tide In torrents from his wounded side. " Then it was truth " he said," I knew That the dark presage must be true. I would the Fiend, to whom belongs The vengeance due to all her vrrongs,
!
She died
at
And
It
not be! this dizzy trance, Curse on yon base marauder's lance,
may
And
doubly cursed
my
sinful heart
makes
With
fi'uitless labor,
Clara bound,
And
wound:
WAR.
Exhausted
all the Church's prayers. Ever, he said, that, close aud near,
321
xV lady's voice
was
iu his ear,
And
'^'
that the priest he could not hear, For that she ever sung,
lost battle,
la the
home down hy
the Hying,
Where
ininyles
tear's
:
!
Avoid thee, Fiend with cruel hand, Shake not the dying sinner's sand!
O, look,
my yon sign Of the Kedeenier's grace divine: O, think on faith and bliss!
son. u])on
Bv And many
nianv a death-bed
have been,
Now
trebly thundering swelled the gale. And Stanley v\as the cry
!
:
light on
And
fired his
head
blade.
Were
on!"
SCOTT.
WALTER
VIII
21
322
POEJilS
OF NATIONAL SPIRIT.
[About
1688.]
't
To the
"
lords
of
convention
was Claverhouse
crowns
spoke,
So
who
loves honor
Come
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the Westport and let us gang free, And it 's room for flic ho)incts of honnic Dundee!
Dundee he is mounted, he rides np the street, The bells are rung backward, the drums they are
beat
;
But the provost, douce man, said, " Just e'en let him be, The gude toun is well quit of that deil of Dundee "
!
As he rode doun the sanctified bends of the Bow, Ilk carline was flyting and shaking her pow But the young plants of grace they looked cowthie
;
and
dee!
slee.
the Grass-market
was
As
if
WAR.
There was spite
each
ee,
323
in
As
And
But
lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers; they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway
was
free
At
And with the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke: " Let Mons Meg and her marrows speak twa
words or three, For the love of the bonnet
of bonnie Dundee."
The (Jordon demands of him which way he goes. "Where'er shall direct me the shade of Montrose!
Your grace in short space shall hear tidings of me. Or that low lies the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.
"There are hills beyond Pentland and lands vond Fortli
;
be-
If there's lords
ill
in
;
Die north
There
1
are
wild
'
Dnniew assals
thiee
thousand
lines tlnve
^^'ili
cry
dee.
lloighl
DunT
"
There
's
liide.
324
POEMS OF NATIONAL
's
SPIRIT.
There
steel
in
side;
The brass
free,
At a
"
Away
I
Ere
And
I '11 couch with the fox; tremble, false whigs, in the midst of your
own an usurper
glee,
my
He waved
his
blown,
The kettle-drums
on,
Till
on Ravelston's
lea
Come fill up 7ny cup, come fill up my can; Come saddle the Jiorses, and call up the men; Come open your doors and let me gae free,
For
it ^s
LIBERTY TREE.
[1775.]
In a chariot of light from the regions of day, The Goddess of Liberty came; Ten thousand celestials directed tlie way, And hither conducted the dame.
WslR,
825
fair
^yhc're millions with millions agree, She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,
And
The
named Liberty
Tree.
Like a native
flourished
and bore;
The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, To seek out this peaceable shore. Unmindful of names or distinction they came. For fi'cemen like brothers agree; With one spirit endued, they one friendship pur-
And
was
Lihertij Tree.
Beneath
this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, Their bread in contentment thev ate,
Unvexed with the troubles of silver and gold. The cares of the grand and the great. With timber and tar they Old England supplied,
And
Her
battles they fought, without getting a groat. For the honor of Lihcrty Tree.
ye swains, 't is a t;ile most profane, the tyrannical powers. Kings, Commons, and Lords, are united amain. To cut down this guardian of ours;
hear,
But
now
all
From
arms,
Through tho bind lot the sound of it flee, Lot the far and the near, all unite with a cheer.
In dofcnco of our Lihcrty Tree.
THOMAS
I'AINB.
320
POEMS OF NATIONAL
.SPIRIT.
HYMN
MONUMENT, APRIL
19,
1836.
the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood.
By
And
The
fired the
foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has SAvept Down the dark stream which seaward
On
creeps.
We
this green bank, bv this soft stream, set to-day a votive stone;
like
When,
our
sires,
made those heroes dare To die, or leave their children free, Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee. RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
Spirit, that
WARRP]N'S ADDRESS.*
Stand the ground 's your own, Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye look for greener graves?
!
my
braves
Hope ye mercy
* General Joseph Warren,
still?
fell
who
at the battle of
Bunker
Hill.
June
17, 1775.
WAR.
What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it iu that battle-peal! Kead it ou yon bristliuj*- steel Ask it, ye who will.
327
Fear ye foes who kill for hire? Will ye to your Jionics retire? Look behind you! they're afire!
Who
On
have done it From the vale come! and Avill ye quail? they Leaden rain and iron hail
God
Die we may, and die we must: But, (). where can dust to dust
of battles trust!
Be consigned so well. As where heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed,
And
JOIIX riERPONT.
oKK OX Tin:
('i:fj;i;kati()X
ok
the
RATTLK OK MUXKKR
IIII.L,
JUNE
17,
1825."
hill
Slaughter rides screaming on the vengeful ball; While with IcrrKic signal shrill,
328
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
'
The vultures from their bloody eyries flown, Hang o'er them like a pall.
Now
And
deeper
roll
the
maddening drums,
the mingling host like ocean heaves; While from the midst a horrid wailing
And
comes, high above the fight the lonely bugle grieves! GRENVILLE M ELLEN.
NATHAN
To drum-beat and
HALE.*
heart-beat
:
by There is color in his cheek, There is courage in his eye, Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat In a moment he must die.
soldier marches
By starlight and moonlight. He seeks the Briton's camp; He hears the rustling flag. And the armed sentry's tramp; And the starlight and moonlight
His
silent
wanderings lamp.
still
tread,
Hauged
New York
City,
September
22, 1776.
WAR.
The dark wave, the plumed wave,
It
32D
And
On an emerald
expanse.
sharp clang, a
And
For the
In the
sentrv, falcon-eved,
;
camp a spy hath found With a sharp ching, a steel clang. The patriot is bound.
With calm brow, steady brow, lie listens to his doom;
In his look there
is
no
fear,
;
Nor a shadow-trace of gloom But with calm brow and steady brow
He
In the long night, the still night, He kneels upon the sod
;
And
In the long night, the still night. He walks where Christ hath trod.
'Neath the blue
lie dies
iiiuin, tlio
sunny morn,
lose
upon the ti-cc; And he monrns that he can Hut one life for Liberty;
330
And
in the blue morn, the sunny morn, His spirit-wings are free.
But
They burn, lest friendly eye Should read how proud and calm
A
With
The name
of
Hale
shall burn!
T^IEN.*
few, but true and tried, leader frauk and bold; British soldier trembles
When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress-tree; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea We know its walls of thorny vines,
;
South Carolina, renowned as a daring patriot partisan leader during the Revolutionary War.
WAR.
Its safe
331
Woe
That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight A strange and sudden fear; When, waking to their tents on
tire,
They
gras]) their
arms
in vain,
And And
they
who stand
to face us
Are beat
they
to earth again;
i\y in
who
terror
deem
A
And
Upon
Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil
;
We
And
sj)oil.
The woodland
gathered
To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind
That
in the jtine-top grieves.
The band that Marion leads, The glitter of their rilles. The scampering (tf llicir steeds.
832
POEMS OF NATIONAL
'T
is
SPIRIT.
barb
life to
guide the
fiery
'T
Across the moonlight plain; is life to feel the night-wind That lifts his tossing mane.
Back
Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoarv hairs;
Their hearts are
all
with Marion,
their prayers.
And
band
And
For them we wear these trust}^ arms, And la}^ them down no more Till we have driven the Briton Forever from our shore. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
CARMEN BELLICOSUM.
In their ragged regimentals Stood the old Continentals,
When
Yielding not, the grenadiers were lunging. And like hail fell the plunging
Cannon-shot;
When
Of the
the
files
isles.
WAR.
From
the
333
smoky
uiglit
drummer,
!
As the roar
Swept
And
l)owder.
Cracking amain
Now
like
Worked
Cannoneers
"
swift
Storm-drift,
sw('('i>iiig
anger,
334
Then
higher,
higher,
fire
burned
the
old
fashioned
Trumpet-loud.
And
And
Hurling death
THE DANCE.
[Published soon after
tlie
suiTender of Cornwallis.]
CoRNW.iLLis
led a
country dance,
The
JMucli
And
sir.
up and rambled down. Joined hands, then ofl" they run, sir. Our General Greene to Charlestown, The earl to Wilmington, sir.
The}' rambled
Greene
in the
set.
And
WAR.
Cornwallis
jiji'j2;e<l
335
with
yoiinf; FaYOtle,
But sutiered
shore,
At
Though men
A^'hile
Or
at a masquerade, sir.
Yet are red heels and long-laced skirts, For stumj)S and briars meet, sir? Or stand they chance with hunting-shirts, Or hardv veteran feet, sir?
Now
And
At minuet or
'amande.
Fut
brillaut poui-
330
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And Wasbington,
SPIRIT.
Columbia's son,
sir,
bj^
Whom
pains be won,
sir.
Now hand
in hand they circle round This ever-dancing peer, sir; Their gentle movements soon confound
The
earl as they
draw
near,
sir.
His music soon forgets to play His feet can move no more, sir, And all his bands now curse the day They jigged to our shore, sir.
Now
all, what can ye say? not this a griper, That while your hopes are danced away,
Tories
Come
is
is
'T
ANONYMOUS.
MONTEREY.
[Mexico, September
19, 1846.]
We
we who stood
;
Before the iron sleet that day Yet many a gallant spirit would Give half his years if but he could
at Monterey.
Now
here, now there, the shot it hailed In deadly drifts of fiery spray.
WAR.
837
Yet not a single soldier quailed When wounded comrades round them wailed
Their dying shouts at Monterey.
And
on, still on our column kept, Through walls of flame its withering
fell
way;
Where
the dead, the living stept, Still charging on the guns which swept
The slippery
The
streets of ^Monterey.
When
We swooped
And. braving full their murderous blast, Stormed home the towers of Monterey.
turrets wave,
;
And there our evening bugles play Where orange boughs above their grave, Keep green the memory of the brave
Who
fought and
fell
at Monterey.
We
we who pressed
who
fell
that day;
But who
He 'd
22
338
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
.SPIRIT.
COMING.
[April, 1861.]
World,
Hark
ominous sound
How
And
Typhoon of Death Nearer and nearer it comes! The horizon thunder of cannon-breath
It comes, the
And
drums
Hurtle, Terror sublime! Swoop o'er the Land to-day So the mist of wrong and crime,
The breath of our Evil Time Be swept, as by fire, away HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL.
!
IN STATE.
Look down upon the warring world, and what the end wmII be.
"
us
On
Lo, through the wintry atmosphere, the white bosom of the sphere,
WAR.
339
A
And
cluster of five lakes appear; all the land looks like a couch, or warrior's
shield, or sheeted bier.
"
And on
field.
With both
iiiijihty Fii>ui'e is
revealed,
sealed,
Stretched at
in the "
full
leui^th,
and
stilT
and
stark, as
hollow of a shield,
The winds have tied the drifted snow Around the face and chin and lo, The sceptred Giants come and go. And shake their shadow,y crowns and say
;
'
:
We
always feared
"
it
would be
so!
'
A
And
Like (wo
in
her
form and
face.
Where can her dazzling falchion be? One hand is fallen in the sea; The (lulf Stream drifts it far and free;
"
And
in that
tlic
depths resplcndcjilly.
oliiei-, in
*'
And
by the
its rest,
of the ^Vest
And
clasped forever to Imm- breast; of her silver lidnict. lo, a soaring eagle
crest.
is
the
340
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
And on her brow, a softened liglit, As of a star concealed from sight By some thin veil of Heecy white, Or of the rising moon behind the raining vapors
of the night. " The Sisterhood that was so sweet, The Starry System sphered complete, Which the mazed Orient used to greet. The Fonr-and-Thirty fallen Stars glimmer and
glitter at her feet.
And
over her,
all,
And
Is turned to verdure;
is
now one
mighty
"
battle-field.
And lo, the children which she bred, And more than all else cherished,
To make them true in heart and head. Stand face to face, as mortal foes, with their swords crossed above the dead.
"
Each hath a mighty stroke and stride One true, the more that he is tried;
WAR.
And by
The other dark and evil-eved ; the hand of* one of them, mother surelv died!
his
341
own dear
/'
And
The Son stabbed and the Mother fell so she lies, all mute and pale, and pure and
irreproachable
!
"
And then the battle-trumpet blew And the true brother sprang and drew
;
And
His blade to smite the traitor through so they clashed above the bier, and the Night sweated bloody dew.
;
And all their children, far and wide, That are so greatly multiplied, Rise up in frenzy and divide; And choosing, each whom he will serve, unsheathe the sword and take their side.
"
"
And
in the
I*ortentous of the coming days, The Two great Oceans blush and blaze. With the emergent continent between them,
in
wrapt
crimson haze.
wliichsoever stand or
"
Now
fall.
As (lod is groat, and man is small. The Truth shall triumph over all Forever and forevermore, the Truth shall triumph
:
over all
342
POEMH OF NATIONAL
III.
SPIRIT.
champion sword-strokes flash fall and hear them clash; hear the murderous engines crash;
them
I see
'
mangled corse, The dead and dying" heaped in scores, The headless rider by his horse, The wounded captive bayoneted through
through without remorse.
and
hear the dying sufferer cry, his crushed face turned to the sky, I see him crawl in agony To the foul pool, and bovv' his head into bloody
I
^'
With
slime,
and
die.
expire;
and
fire,
To
murderer creeping nigher the dead. He turns the head, strip The son beholds his sire!
I
the face!
"
I see the
mad
The rents, the gaps, the broken ranks. The vanquished Sfjuadrons driven headlong down
the river's bridgeless banks. 't>^
"I see the death-gripe on the plain, The gra]>i)ling monsters on the main,
WAR,
The tens
of tlioiisnn<ls that are slain,
343
And
all
and agony
of
I see the dark and bloody spots. The crowded loonis and crowded cots, The bleaching bones, the battle blots,
"
And
writ on
many
forget-me-nots.
"
I
The dead line and the pent-up pen. The thousands (piartered in the fen. The living-deaths of skin and bone that were the
goodly shapes of men.
"And
still
the bloody
Dew must
fall!
groat Darkness with the Pall Of His dread Judgment cover all.
Till (he
And His
Dead Nation
rise
Transformed by Truth
"
!
"
Last
Thus
And
the
Land and
FOKCK YTH E
LLSON.
3U
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
1861,
the
us in passion and
Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side She has torn her own star from our firmament's
!
glow,
And
We
Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, can never forget that our hearts have been
one,
From
si)rinkied in Liberty's name, the fountain of blood with the finger of fiame !
You were always too ready to But we said: " She is hasty
she
fire
at a touch
does not
mean
We
But friendship
forget."
still
whispered:
"Forgive and
Has our
Has
Have
last
its
altars
grown
cold?
the curse
come at
foretold?
WAR.
chain
345
They may
their
Till the Till
fight
spoil,
till
And
waves
In vain is the strife! When its fury is past, Their fortunes must flow in one channel at
last,
As
snow
Roll mingled in peace in the valleys below.
Our
T^nion
is river,
lake, ocean,
and sky;
Man breaks not the medal when God cuts the die! Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven
with
steel.
won
The star-llowering banner must never be furled, For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world!
Go, then, our rash sister, afar and aloof, Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof; Rut when your heart aches and your feet have
grown
sore.
Remember
the
34G
JONATHAN TO JOHN.
It don't seem hardly right, John, When both my hands was
full,
We know
Thet
the law,
''''
B.,
for
You wonder why we 're hot, John? Your mark wuz on the guns,
The neutral guns, thet shot, John, Our brothers an' our sons
:
sez he, " I guess There 's human blood," sez he, " By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Ole Uncle
S.,
't
may
surprise J. B.
it
On i/our front parlor stairs. Would it just meet your views, John,
To wait an' sue their heirs? Ole Uncle S., sez he, " I guess,
I
John,
"
Thet
'T
fell,
would kind
ez
Ez wal
WAR.
Wlio made the law thet hurts, John,
" J. B."
347
ditto tails/
liis
shirts,
John,
Onless
my memory
fails.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, '' I guess (I 'm good at thet)," sez he,
''
Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice For ganders with J. B., No more 'n with vou or me! "
When your
You
Was
us.
sez he, " I guess Though physic 's good," sez he, " It doesn't toller thet he can swaller
Ole Uncle
We own
Ef we
It
's
You mus'n'
jest
Ole Uncle
"
guess
Ef
thet
'.s
"The
fencin' stulf
cost
enough
Why
You
talk so (hciUc
it
lig. .loiin.
Of honor when
didn't care a
r.nt jest lor
meant
John,
I
fig,
Ole Uncle
S.,
sez he,
guess
348
POEMS OF NATIONAL
He 's like the rest," " When all is done, it
sez he,
's
SPIRIT.
number one
!
We
Cos Abram thought 't was right; It warn't jour bullvin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight. Ole Uncle S., sez he, " I guess
"
sez he,
thet,
somehow,
May happen
Ez
We
A school house an' a steeple. Ole Uncle S., sez he, " I guess It is a fact," sez he, " The surest plan to make a Man think him so, J. B., Is,
Ez much
ez
Our
folks believe in
it 's
An'
They 've left the axe an' saw, John, The anvil an' the plow.
Ole Uncle
Ef
"
't
There 'd be one shindy from here to Indy ; An' fhet don't suit J. B.
(When
't
ain't 'twixt
WAR.
349
We know
Thet
's
We
thought
Ef nowhere
Ole Uncle
His
"
Hangs by a
Ez
rotten fibre
o'
cotton
There's natur' in
well ez vou an'
J. B.,
me!"
f^outh says, "Poor folks cloicti!" John, " " All III en up! say we, White, yallor. black, an' brown, John;
The
An'
Now
"
which
S.,
is
your idee?
"
I
Ole Uncle
sez he,
guess
John preaches wal," sez he; But, sermon thru, an' come to du,
Whv
1
there
's
the old J. B.
me
"
!
Shall
It
it
's
Ain't pour bonds held by Fate, John, Like all the world's beside?
Ole Uncle
"
S..
B.,
God means
350
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Ole Uncle
"
S.,
sez he,
is
"
guess
sells
God's price
May
larn, like
"
All
"
Is shot, as he
Except now and then a stray picket walks on his beat, to and fro,
ritieman hid in the thicket.
By a
'T
is
nothing: a private or two, now and then, Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost, only one of the men.
Moaning
out, all
All quiet along Die Potomac to-night, Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon. Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming.
Through the forest leaves softly is creeping; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard,
There
is
sleeping.
As
And
's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread he tram])S from the rock to the fountain. he thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed,
Far awav
in the cot
on the mountain.
WAR.
His musket
falls slack; liis fare,
351
Grows geutle with memories teuder, As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, For their mother, ma v Heaven defend her
I
The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, That night when the love \i'\ unspoken Leai)ed up 1o his lijis, when low, munimred vows ^Vele pledged to be ever unbroken Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
up
to its ]lace.
to keep
down
the heart-swelling.
He
The footstep is lagging and weary; Yet onward he goes, through the broad
light.
belt of
Toward the shades of the forest so dreary. Hark was it the night-wind that rustled the
I
leaves?
Was
It
it
looked like a
And
the life-blood
All quiet along the Potomac to-night, No sound save the rush of. the river;
While Thf
dew on
off
duty forever.
ETIIKLIXDA ELLIOTT
353
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
THE COUNTERSIGN.
Alas the weary hours pass slow, The night is very dark and still,
!
And
I
in the
hear the bearded whipi)Oorwill. scarce can see a yard ahead My ears are strained to catch each sound
;
And
sentry's track;
seem to trace The foeman's form, with bending back; think I see him crouching low I stop and list I stoop and peer,
To groups
With ready
Until
of soldiers far
and near.
piece
my
eyes, familiar
And turn guerrillas into stone; And then amid the lonely gloom.
My
Beneath the tall old chestnut trees, silent marches 1 resume. And think of other times than these.
''Halt!" who goes there?" my challenge cry, It rings along the watchful line; ''Relief!" I hear a voice reply
''
WAR.
With bayonet at tho charge I wait The corporal gives the mystic spell; With arms aport I charge my mate, Then onward pass, and all is well.
But
I
353
in the tent
ask,
T
if
in the fray
Can
the mystic answer make, When the angelic sentries call? that Heaven
^Vhere'er I go,
And pray
Whether
I still
what
in pleasure or in pain,
may have
the countersign.
ANONyMOUS.
CIVIL WAR.
"
Rifleman, shoot me a fancy shot Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; Ring me a ball in the glittering spot That shines on his breast like an amulet! "
for a fine-drawn bead.
There 's music around when my barrel 's in luno:" Crack went the rifle, the messenger s]ied, And dead from his horse fell the ringing draI
goon.
"Now,
rifleman, sfeal
snatch
From your
blood
VIII
23
354
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
"
!
A
"
That gleams
button, a loop, or that luminous ijatcli in the moon like a diamond stud
I staggered, and sunk on my track, gazed on the face of that fallen vidette. For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back, That' my heart rose upon me, and masters me
captain
I
AVheu
yet.'
"
But
snatched
;
off
the trinket,
this
locket of
An
my
Of a beautiful lady
"
in bridal array."
Ha!
My
Was
't is she, rifleman, fling me the locket! brother's 3'oung bride, and the fallen dra-
goon
her
husband Hush
soldier,
't
was Heav-
en's decree,
We
"
there,
moon
War
There
is
a virtue,
their
's
Load again,
WAR.
355
The
On
From
command
Out with
a grave salute,
And
The picket
The colonel rode and the captain walked, The arm of the picket tired;
Their faces almost touched as they talked, And, swerved from his aim, the picket fired.
The
Wounded and hurt to death. Calling upon a name that was sweet As God is good, with his dying breath.
And
To
close the eyes so dim, high remorse for God's mercy felt, Knowing the shot was meant for him.
And
he whisjiered, ]>rayer-like, under his breath, The name of his own young wife:
his friend's peace with
his with
life.
35G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
We
thousand more!
From
We
Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives
;
and children
dear,
full for utterance,
with but a
We
We
If
thousand more!
hill-tops that
Long moving
;
And
floats aloft
our spangled
flag in glory
and
in
pride.
And bayonets
We
If
in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour: are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred
thousand more!
you look
all
up our
harvests shine.
You may
into line;
WAR.
And
ing at the weeds,
xVud learning
357
how
to reap
;
their
country's needs And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door We are coming. Father Abraham, three hundred
:
thousand more!
called us, and we 're coming, hy Richmond's bloody tide To lay us down, for Freedom's sake, our brothers'
You have
bones beside,
Or from
wrench
the murderous blade, And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to
parade. Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before We are coming. Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!
:
ANONYMOUS.
THE OLD
MAN AND
JIM.
'Ceptin' to Jim, And Jim was the wildest boy he had. And the old man jes' wrapi)ed up in
to say
him! Never heerd him speak but once Er twice in my life, and first fime was WIk'u the army broke out, and Jim he went,
358
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
all 'at I
jes'
SPIRIT.
months;
fer three
And
Was
"
Take keer
"
!
Jim him all to hisse'f-like, see? 'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him! And over and over I mind the day The old man come and stood round in the way While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim; And down at the deepot a heerin' him say, " Well, good-bj'e, Jim Take keer of yourse'f "
Jes' look in' at
likin'
And
why
The old man 'peared wrapped up in him: But when Cap. Kiggler, he writ back 'At Jim was the bravest boy we had
And
In the whole dern rigiment, white er black, his flghtiu' good as his farmin' bad,
'At he had led, with a bullet clean Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen,-^
letter to
''
Tell
him Jim
And
WAR.
Jim come home jes' long enough To take the whim
'At he
'd lil>e to
359
him
!
And
the old
'at
man
wrapped up
in
Jim 'lowed
he'd had sich luck afore, Guessed he 'd tackle her three years more. And the old man give him a colt he 'd raised,
And And
him over to Camp Ben Wade, fer a week er so, around laid on Jim Watcliiu' dress-parade; 'Tel Jinallv he rid awav, And last he heerd was the old man say, "Well, good-bye, Jim: Take keer of vourse'f "
follered
Tuk
man
did,
way jes' wrapped up in him! And many a time the word 'ud come 'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum: At Petei'sburg fer instunce, where Jim rid right into their cannons there.
f>onie
And And
Jim
tuk 'em, and p'inted 'em t' other way, socked it home to the boys in gray, As they skooted fer timber, and on and on
a lieutenant,
and
And
all
day,
We
'II
360
'At
POEMS OF NATIONAL
's
SPIRIT.
dumb
clean
up
to the shoulder-straps
ilp in
And
the old
Think of him
man
him
the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue A'laughin' the news down over Jim, And the old man, bendin' over him
And
His Father's, the old voice "Well, good-bye, Jim: Take keer of yourse'f "
!
in his ears,
RILEY.
JAMES WHITCOMB
No
growling
'11
if
We
make
a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along, There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong,
We
see
him now
the
Cocked o'er his eye askew The shrewd, dry smile; the speech so pat. So calm, so blunt, so true. The " Blue-light Elder" knows 'em well: " Says he, That 's Banks; he 's fond of shell. " Lord save his soul we '11 give him Well, That 's Stonewall Jackson's Way.
!
WAR.
Silence
I
361
all
!
Groimd
's
ariiisl
Kneel
Caps
off!
going to pray. tool the that dares to scoff: Strangle Attention 's his war. it
!
Old Massa
Appealing from liis native sod, Jn forma pauperis to God. ''Lay bare Tliine arm Stretch forth Thy rod: Amen " That 's Stonewall 's Way.
I
He's
Hill
in the saddle
I
now.
Fall in!
Steady
's '11 win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if onr shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? Quick step! we're with him before morn: That 's Stonewall Jackson's Way,
The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning; and By George! Here 's Longstreet, struggling in the lists,
Hemmed
Pope and
"
in
his
Bay'nets and grape!" hear Stonewall roar. Charge, Stuart Pay off Ashby's score. In Stonewall Jackson's Way,
!
Ah, ^faiden
For news
I
Ah, Widow read, \\i1li eyes Ihat burn. That ring upon <hy hand. Ah, ^^'if'! sew on, jjray on, liojie on
I
'Xto 02
POEMH OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Thy life shall not be all forlorn. The foe had better ne'er been born, That gets in Stonewall's Way. JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER.
BARBARA FRIETCHIE.
Up from
the
meadows
September morn,
of Frederick stand
hills of
Maryland.
Fair as a garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain wall,Over the mountains, winding down, Horse and foot into Frederick town.
Forty Forty
flags
Flapped in the morning wind the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up
rose old
Bowed with
WAR.
Bravest of
all iu
3G3
set,
loyal vet.
Up
the street
came the
rebel tread,
Under
and right
He
" ITaH
tiie
"Fire!" out
It shivered ilie
It rent the
Quick, as
it fell,
Dame
windo^^-sill,
And shook
"
it
Shoot,
if
I5ut spare
you must, Ihis old gray head, your country's flag," she said.
sliade of sadness, a blush of shame. Over the face of the leader came;
Tlie iMtbleiTj life at
864
"
POEMS OF NATIONAL
!
SPIRIT.
Who touches a hair of yon gray head " he said. Dies like a dog! March on
All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet ;
All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever
its
fell
it
On
well
And through
Shone over
it
with a
warm
good-night.
is o'er,
And
Honor
to her!
and
bier.
And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
EDMUNIJ* CLARENCK
STEDMAN
WAR
CAVALRY SONG.
FROM
''*'
365
ALICE
OF
MOXMOUTH/^
Our
Our pulses with their purpose tingle; The foenian's fires are twinkling there;
He
Halt
I
nearer!
One look to Heaven! No thoughts of home: The guidons that we bear are dearer.
('iiaikje!
Cling! clang! forward all! Heaven help those whose horses fall:
Cut
left
and right
They flee before our fierce attack They fall they spread in broken surges. Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, And leave the foeman to his dirges.
!
!
Wheel!
The bugles sound the swift recall: Cling! clang! backward all! Home, an<l good night!
366
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
CAVALRY SONG.
Our And
bugles sound gajly. To horse and away! over the mountains breaks the day
;
! !
Then ho
brothers, ho for the ride or the fight, There are deeds to be done ere we slumber to-
night!
fall
.'-.' yet.
rememher us
And
Then mount and away! let the coward delight To be lazy all day and safe all night; Our joy is a charger, flecked with foam. And the earth is our bed and the saddle our home
And whether we
fight, etc.
And
See yonder the ranks of the traitorous foe. bright in the sunshine bayonets glow Breathe a prayer, but no sigh; think for what
!
will, boys,
And whether
We have gathered again the red laurels of war; We have followed the traitors fast and far;
But some who rose gayly this morn with the sun Lie bleeding and pale on the field they have won!
WAR.
But whether
ice
flfjlit
367
or ivlwilier we fall
By
sohre-stroke or
rifle-hall^
free will
rememher us
yet,
And
KEAKNY AT SEVEN
PINES.*
So that soldierly logond is still on its jonrnev, That story of Kearny who knew not to yield 'T was the day when with Jameson, fierce Berrv, and Birney,
!
A<i;ainst
field.
Where
Where
dead lay
tlui
in
clnmps
tlironjih
the
i)ine.
thicket
was
surest
and
No
When
llie
battle
went
ill,
solemn.
held
war-cry
lea[)t
uj
with a
He
*
der,
wind
of the pow-
M;iJor-f}t'iii'i;il
Pliilii)
Kc;iniy,
killeil
at tho battle of
368
POEMS OF NATIONAL
sign
:
SPIRIT.
own
whole
line!
"
How
How we saw
He
laughed
like
boy
holidays
be-
heighten,
But a
neath.
Up came
"
the reserves to the mellay infernal. Asking where to go in, through the clearing or pine?
O, anywhere Colonel
Forward
lovely
'T
is
all
the
same.
You
'11
find
fighting
line!"
0, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, That hid him from sight of his brave men and
tried
!
The flower
pride!
whole army's
that shadowy
still,
in
drummer's
sign,
wan
WAR.
!
300
Rides on, as of old, down the length of bis legion, And the word still is Forward along the whole
line.
the road
How
joyously his bold face glowed To, hear our cheers' refrain
!
His blue blouse flapi)ed in wind and wet, His boots were splashed with mire, But round his lips a smile was set,
And
in his eves
fire.
With
weary
fight before.
The gun grew light to every man. The crossed belts ceased their stress, As onward to the column's van We watched our leiider press.
Within an hour we saw him
lie,
And
VIII
JOSEPH o'cONNOR.
24
370
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
done!
What
Rise of
to
him
moon
of
Hand
man
or kiss of
woman?
!
What
his fight,
Proved his truth by his endeavor; Let him sleep in solemn night, Sleep forever and forever. Lay him low, lay him low. In the clover or the snow What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low
! !
Fold him in his country's stars. Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars? What but death-bemocking folly?
Lay him
low, lay
him
low,
!
In the clover or the snow What cares he? he cannot know; Lay him low
!
Leave him to God's watching eye; Trust him to the hand that made him.
*
WAR.
Mortal love weeps idly b}'; God alone has power to aid bim.
Iaw
liiiii
371
low, lav
him
low,
!
What
know;
Lay
low
BAY
WAS
IJILLY.
15, 1862.]
[December
'T
boys, the Twenty-Second IMaine, Kept Early's men in check. Just where Wade Hampton boomed away The light went neck and neck.
Our
All <lay the weaker wing we held, And held it with a will.
we charged on the hill, And five times beaten back, re-formed, And kept our column still.
Five several stubborn times
The
battei'y
At
last
fight
Spurred
"That Onr
he
S[)ed.
colonel sim]Iy touched his cap. And (hen, with measured tread,
372
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
To lead the crouching line once more The grand old fellow came. No wounded man but raised his head
his
name,
God
not speak nor stir, blessed him " just the same.
all
For he was
That hero
graj'
and grim.
Right well we knew that fearful slope We 'd climb with none but him, Though while his white head led the
We 'd
way
charge
we were not half-way up, When, midst the storm of shell, Our leader, with his sword upraised,
This time
Beneath our bayonets fell. And, as we bore him- back, the foe Set up a joyous yell.
"
Our hearts went with him. And when the bugle said
Up, charge again
''
!
Back we swept,
w^as there
no man
dogged head. " We 've no one left to lead us now," The sullen soldiers said.
Just then before the laggard line
But hung
his
Bay
we spied. Billy with his trappings on, His nostrils swelling wide.
colonel's horse
still
The
As though
WAR.
Right lo.vally he took the place That was of old his wont,
373
And with
Above the
If I
am
not in front?"
we
stood,
And
gazed a
little
space,
Above that floating mane we missed The dear familiar face, But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire,
And
it
Ko
As
Down
that brave sight had done, all the battered line we felt
A
Up!
And we
the conquered height Died out the battle's hum. Vainly mid living and the dead \Ve sought our leader dumb. It seemed as if a spectre steed To win that day had conje.
And
dew
of night
work
of death
iigaiu,
374
POEMS OF NATIONAL
And drew
SPIRIT.
round
All night the surgeons' torches went, The ghastl}' rows between, All night with solemn step I paced
The torn and bloody green. But who that fought in the big war Such dread sights have not seen?
At last the morning broke. The Sang in the merrv skies, As if to e'en the sleepers there
It
!
lark
bade awake, and rise Though naught but that last trump of (J!ould ope their heavy e3'es.
all
And
Stretched out the long brigade. Trimly upon the furrowed field
And
The troops stood on jjarade, bravely mid the ranks were closed The gaps the fight had made.
half the Twenty-Second's men in their place that morn ;
Not
Were
And
Corporal Dick, who yester-noon Stood six brave fellows on, Now touched my ell>ow in the ranks, For all between were gone.
!
Ah who
WAR.
To call the old familiar roll The soleiiju sergeaut tries, One feels tluit tliumpiug of the heart As uo prompt voice rei)lies.
375
And
The
Across the
It
Toiled np the weary tread. caught the sergeant's eye, and quick Bay Billy's name ho read.
Yes! there the old bay hero stood, All safe from battle's harms. And ere an order could be heard.
Or
Down
Not
the bugle's quick alarms, all the front, from end to end,
trooi)s presented
The
all
arms
Could
And
Bay
still our mighty cheer; ever from that famous day, "\A'hen rang the roll call clear.
I
Silly's
name was
read,
and then
The whole
line answered,
"Here!"
II.
FUAXK
GASSAWAY.
WOUXDEI) TO DEATH.
Stkauv, boys, steady
Keej) your
!
arms ready,
nuiy meet here.
Ix'
God
only knows
I 'd
whom we
me
J)on't Icl
taken;
rather awaken,
376
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
To-morrow, in
no matter where,
!
Than
lie in
over
life.
there.
These rocks
Lay me down
in this hollow;
We
By heavens
For
! !
the foemen
may
track
me
in blood,
this hole in
my
breast
is
No no
pickaxe and spade. What, Morris, a tear? Why, shame on ye, man! I thought you a hero; but since you began
is
me
he can give
By George!
Well well
!
To whimper and cry like a girl in her teens, I don't know what the devil it means!
!
am rough 't is a very rough school, a trooper, but yet I 'm no fool I know a brave man, and a friend from a foe; that And, boys, you love me I certainly know;
I
;
This
life of
When
But wasn't it grand they came down the hill over sloughing and
sand
!
But we stood did we not? like immovable rock, Unheeding their balls and repelling their shock.Did you mind the loud cry When, as turning to fly. Our men sprang upon them, determined to die?
O, wasn't
it
grand!
help the poor wretches that fell in that fight; time was there given for prayer or for flight; They fell by the score, in the crash, hand to hand,
God
No
WAR.
And
377
Huzza
I
Great Heavens this bullet-hole gapes like a grave; A curse on the aiuj of the traitorous knave! Is there never a one of ye knows how to pray, Or speak for a man as his life ebbs away?
Pray
Prav!
(^ur Father
!
our Father
I
why
am
dying?
Pray
Our Father
While
There
I
'11
I
Heaven,
boys,
Pray!
tell
me
my
's
breast.
Put that
])ut
Here, Morris, old fellow, get hold of my hand; And, Wilson, my comrade O, wasn't it grand When they came down the hill like a thunder-
Where
Can't
Here, stoop
i/ou
dead
378
"
POEMH OF NATIONAL
Christ God,
SPIRIT.
all,
who
Hear thou
eye.
to let
him
sin.
in,
And
Forgive,
And
God
I
quiet
alarms."
bless you,
It is light to
am
dying
more
bend
my comrade, for saying that hymn my path when my eye has grown dim.
;
down
till
God
war
keei) hold of
my hand
!
JOHN W. WATSON.
SOMEBODY'S DARLING.
Into a ward of the whitewashed halls Where the dead and the dying lay. Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's darling Avas borne one day Somebody's darling, so young and brave; Wearing yet on his sweet pale face Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
WAR.
I*ale are the lips of delicate
379
mould
Somebody's darHiig is dyiug now. Back from his beautiful blue-veiued brow lirush his waudei'iujj; waves of j;old; Cross his hands on his bosom now Somebody's darling is still and cold.
Kiss him once for somebody's sake, Murmur a prayer soft and low;
its fair mates take were somebody's pride, you know. They Somebody's hand hath rested here \\'as it a mother's, soft and white? Or have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light'?
One
Cod knows
best.
He
Somebody wafts his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away. Looking so handsome, brave, and grand;
Somebody's kiss on his foreliead
lay.
Somebody clung
Somebody
's walching and waiting for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart;
And
there he lies with his blue eyes dim, An<l the smiling, childlike lips a])art. Tenderly bury the fair young dead
Pausing to drop on his grave a tear. Carve on the wooden slab o'er his head
"
''
:
380
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
And the tears they fill my eyes, Spite of all that I can do, Tho' 1 try to cheer my comrades and be gay.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the hoys are marching,
Oh, cheer up, comrades, they icilJ come. And beneath the starry flag ive shall breathe the
air again,
Of freedom
in
we stood
more,
When the fiercest charge they made. And they swept us off a hundred men or
But before we reached
their lines
And we
o'er.
cell
We
That
come
to oien
And the hollow eye grows bright. And the poor heart almost gay. As we think of seeing friends and home
more.
once
WAR.
And
Of
beneath the starry flag
air again, freedom in our
381
we
own
beloved home.
ANONYMOUS.
OUR ORDERS.
Weave no more
silks,
ye Lyous looms,
To deck our girls for gay delights! The crimson Hower of battle blooms,
fill
the night.
Drooped heavy o'er our early dead, Aud homely garments, coarse aud gray, For orphans that must earn their bread
That poured delight from other lands! Rouse there the dancer's restless feet The trumpet leads our warrior bands.
:
And
ye- that wage the war of words With mystic fauie and subtle power.
Go, chatter to the idle birds. Or teach the lesson of the hour
382
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
And
if
.SPIRIT.
fail,
The sun should darken in the sky, The eternal bloom of Nature pale, And God, and Truth, and Freedom die! JULIA WARD HOWE.
WHEN
THIS CRUEL
love,
WAR
IS
OYER.
Dearest
do you remember
When we
How
you told me that you loved mo Kneeling at my feet? Oh, how proud you stood before me In c vour suit of blue,
7
to
me
siud
country
true.
Weeping,
sad and lonely, and fears, Jioiv rain; Hopes Yet pray in <j Wlien this cruel war is over, Praying tliat ire meet again.
the
When
summer
breeze
is
sighing
Mournfully along.
Or when autumn
On
Ijonely,
WAR.
If,
383
of battle,
fall,
Far away from those who love jou, Xoue to hear you call. Who would whisper words of comfort? Who would soothe your pain?
Ah, the mauy cruel fancies Ever in my brain
Chorus.
Wicpin(j,
sad, etc.
But our country called you, darling. Angels cheer your way While our nation's sons are fighting.
!
We
Nobly
Let
nations see
love the starry banner, of the free.
How we
Chorus.
Emblem
Weeping,
When
Hopes and
tliis
how vain;
is
Yet praying
cruel ivar
over,
Praying
tJiat ice
meet again.
ANONYMOUS.
SHERIDAN'S KIDE.
[September
19, 1864. J
Vv from
the South at break of day, bringing to ^\'inchester fresh disuuiy, Tlic iill'iighted air wilh a shudder bore,
J^iUc a herald in haste, to the chieftaiu's door,
384
The
roar,
And
And wider
those billows of
war
Thnndered along the horizon's bar; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
flaking the blood of the listener cold
As he thought of the stake in that flery With Sheridan twenty miles away.
But
there
is
fray,
good, broad highway, leading down; And there, through the flash of the morning light. A steed as black as the steeds of night
Was
As
if
He
seen to jniss as with eagle tlight. he knew the terrible need, stretched away with the utmost speed;
Hills rose
and
fell,
but
his heart
was
gay,
With Bheridan
Still
fifteen miles
away.
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were
beating,
like
prisoners
assaulting
their
walls.
Impatient to be where the battlefield calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to
play,
full
WAR.
Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river tiowed,
ihe landscape sped awa}- behind, Like an ocean Hying before the wind; And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace
on, with his wild eyes full of fire; But, lol he is noaring his heart's desire,
385
And
ire,
Swept
He
is snutting the smoke of the roaring With Sheridan only five miles away.
fray.
The first tliat the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; \Miat was done, what to do, a glance told him
both,
And, striking his spurs with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there,
because
The
"\^'ith
sight of the master compelled it to pause. foam and with dust the black charger
was
gray
Ky
He
"
I
the Hash of his eye, and his nostril's play, seemed to the whole great army to say,
have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down, to save the day!"
Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! and man! And when tlicir statues are placed on high,
Hui-rali, hurrah, for horse
Tnder the dome of the L^nion sky, The American soldier's Tem])l(; of Fame,
There with the glorious General's name
VIII
25
38i;
POEMH OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Be it said in letters both bold and bright: " Here is the steed that saved the day
By carrying Sheridan into the fight, From Winchester, twenty miles away!" THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
it
dream? am
T all
alone
In the dreary night and the drizzling rain? Hist ah, it was only the river's moan;
They have
slain.
left
me behind with
the
mangled
Yes,
now
remember
it all
too
Avell
We
Together onr weapons flashed and fell, And mine was sheathed in his quivering heart.
In the cypress gloom, where the deed was done, It was all too dark to see his face;
But
And
He S]>oke l)nt once, and I could not hear The words he said for the cannon's roar; But my heart grew cold Avith a deadly fear, O God I had heard that voice before
!
Had
heard it before at our mother's knee, W^hen we lisped the words of our evening prayer
!
WAR.
3S7
My
would T liad died for tliee, This burdcu is more lliau mv soul can bear!
brother
I
pressed
my
begged him to show me, by word or sign, That he knew and forgave me: he could not
speak,
Aud
In our
little boat,
And then, in my dream, we stood alone On a forest ])ath where the shadows fell; And 1 heard again the tremulous tone, And the tender words of his last farewell.
But that
jjartiug
was
He wandered away to a foreign land; And our dear old mother will never know
That he died to-night by his brother's hand.
sleej) till
the judgment-day,
heart,
388
POEMS OF 'NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
REQUIEM
FOR ONE SLAIN IN BATTLE.
Sadly responsive peal, ye muffled drums; Comrades, with downcast eyes And banners trailing, Attend him home, The youthful warrior comes.
returning,
field of
;
honor
Where he
fell
Glory and grief, together clasped In mourning, His fame, his fate
With
sobs exulting
tell.
Wrap round
his breast
For
On
With proud fond tears. By tinge of shame untainted, Bear him, and lay him
Gently in his grave:
WAR.
Above the hero write, The youDg, ha If -sainted, His eouutrj asked his life,
His
life
389
he gave
GEORGE LUNT.
MUSIC IN CAMP.
Two
ariuies covered hill
and
plain,
Uf
And
The breeze so
made
down
cannon grimly planted. O'er listless caiiiii and silent town The ^^' "oldcn sunset slanted.
When
on the
strain
now
foi-vid air
there
came
rich,
now
tender; aflame
390
Federal band, which, eve and morn, Phiyed measures brave and nimble, Had just struck up, with flute and horn
And
lively clash of
cymbal.
Down
Till,
margined by
its pebbles,
One wooded shore was blue with " Yanks," And one was gray with " Rebels."
Then all was still, and then the band,. With movements light and tricks^'. Made slream and forest, hill and strand,
Keverberate with
"
Dixie."
Went
flow
Again a pause, and then again The trumpets pealed sonorous. And " Yankee Doodle " was the strain To which the shore gave chorus.
The laughing ri])ple shoreward flew, To kiss the shining pebbles; Loud shrieked the swarming Boys in Blue
Defiance to the Rebels.
And
yet once more the bugle sang Above the stormy riot;
WAR.
No
shout 111)011 the evening rang There reigned a holy quiet.
391
The sad, slow stream its noiseless flood Poured o'er the glistening pebbles; All silent now the Yankees stood,
And
No
unresponsive soul had heard That plaintive note's aitpealing, So deeply " Home, Sweet Home had stirred The hidden fount of feeling.
''
Or
llicii- beauty o'er him; Seen through the tear-mist in his eyes, Ills loved ones stand before him.
Jtend in
As
fades the
iris
after rain
The
And
lint
art,
IOxpr<'ssed in simplest
Subdued the
Made
392
PO;j/*Sf
OF NATIONAL ^PimT.
And
Who
Gave
this
words of Stonewall Jackson* were: *'Let us and rest under the shade of the trees.'"]
What
are
the
breast ?
What
^'
is the mystical vision he sees? Let us pass over the river, and rest Under the shade of the trees."
Has he grown
sick of his toils and his tasks? Sighs the worn spirit for respite or ease? Is it a moment's cool halt that he asks Under the shade of the trees?
Is
it the gurgle of water whose flow Ofttimes has come to him, borne on the breeze.
Memory
Nay
flesli
was
so sore,
Saw
Faith, that had yearnings far keener than these. the soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore
of the trees;
C. S. A., killed
on
WAR.
393
Caught the high psalm of ecstatic- delight Heard the harps harping, like soundings of
seas
Watched Under
Oh, was
it
Touched
lie
strange he should pine for release. to the soul with such transports as
these,
who
Yea,
it
was noblest
for
him
it
was
best
(Questioning naught of our Father's decrees), There to pass over the river and rest
of the trees
Dark
Kanked
Waiting the breath that lifts All the dead mass, and drifts Temi)est and falling brand Over a i-uincd land, So still and orderlv,
Arm
394
Down
And
Of the fierce rolling drum Told them their time had come, Told them what work was sent For the black regiment.
" "
Free in this laud; or bound Down, like the whiuing hound, Bound with red stripes of pain In our cold chains again " O, what a shout there went
!
From
"Charge!" Trump and drum awoke; Onward the bondmen broke; Bayonet and sabre-stroke
Vainly opposed their rush. Through the wild battle's crush, With but one thought aflush,
Driving their lords like chaff. In the guns' mouths they laugh Or at the slippery brands
;
Down
they tear
man and
horse,
WAR.
Down
in their
395
awful course;
Trampling with bloody heel Over the crashing steel, All their eves forward bent, Rushed the black rogiliient.
Freedom " their battle-crv, Freedom or leave to die " Ah and tliev meant the word. Not as with us 't is heard, Not a mere party shout
!
"
"
They gave
And on the gory sod Rolled in triumjthant blood. Glad to strike one free blow,
Whether
Glad
for weal or
woe
one free breath, Though on the lips of death; Praying, alas in vain! That they might fall again, So they could once more see That burst to liberty! " This was what freedom lent
to breathe
''
lie
Ilail
them as comrades
tried;
SOG
P0E2hy
Ot"
NATIONAL
field
SPIRIT.
THE
"
C.
S.
ARMY'S COMMISSARY.
I. 1863.
" we sighing said, Well, this is bad While musing round the bivouac fire,
!
And dwelling with a fond desire, On home and comforts long since fled.
"
How
Our
gayly came
we
forth at first
spirits bigh, with new emprise, Ambitious of each exercise, And glowing with a martial thirst.
"
With bounteous store of everything To use or' comfort minist'ring. All cheerily we marched away.
"
But as the struggle fiercer grew, Light marching orders came apace,
place
Our
Are
tents
Now
lost to us,
We
live,
WAR.
"
397
at length,
lessened,
till
foe to
Must
whom
"But
while we've meat and flour enough The bayonet shall be our spit The ramrod bake our dough on it
A
''
We'll bear privation, danger dare, While even these are left to us
Be hopeful, faithful, emulous Of gallant deeds, though hard our fare! "
II. 18G4.
" Three years
When
As on
and more," we grimly said, " order came to " Rest at will
hill,
march we sped^
foe
and more we 've met the On many a gory, hard-fought field. And still we swear we cannot yield
Fate shall bring some deeper woe.
've
Till
"
struggled on,
Through chill, Nor baled aught of steadfast will. Though even hope seems almost gone.
"
111
and winter's
fed,
ill
clad,
and
shelterless,
ilow
little
cheer in health
we know!
598
POEMH OF XATIONAL
When wouuds and
^SPIRIT.
How
us;
That Fortune
"
POUTER THOMPSON.
1863.]
CLOUD possessed the hollow field, The gathering battle's smoky shield. Athwart the gloom the lightning fiashed, And through the cloud some horsemen dashed, And from the heights the thunder pealed.
Then at the brief command of Lee Moved out that matchless infantry, With Pickett leading grandly down, To rush against the roaring crown Of those dread heights of destiny.
The
cry across the tumult runs, voice that rang through Shiloh's
woods
WAR.
Aud
The
(Jhickauiiniga's solitudes,
tierce
399
Khamsin wind that scorched and singed Like tiiat infernal Hame that fringed The lU'itish sfjuares at Waterloo!
A
A
thousand fell where Kemper led; thousand died where (larnett bled: In blinding llame and strangling smoke The remnant through the batt('ri(^s broke And crossed the works with Armistead.
"Once more
in (Jlory's
Virginia cried to Tennessee; " two together, come what may, Shall stand upon these woiks today!"
We
in history.)
Brave Tennessee!
In reckless
way
But who shall break the guards that wait Before the awful face of Fat<>? The tattered standards
of the South
\\'ere shrivelled at the cannf>n"s
mouth,
And
all
400
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed, Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
And
The death-cry
The brave went down Without disgrace They leaped to Kuin's red embrace. They only heard Fame's thunders wake, And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
!
They
fell,
who
lifted
up a hand
!
And bade
who
And
They
who saw
the future
come
the fight's delirium! smote and stood, who held the hope They Of nations on that slippery slope
On through
Amid
God
lives!
He
That clutched and held that trembling hill. God lives and reigns He built and lent
!
WAR.
The heights
for Fieedonrs battloiiient
401
Where
triumph
still
Fold up the banners Smelt the guns Love rules. Her gentler j)urpose runs. A mighty mother turns in tears
!
I)Awx of a pleasant morning in May Broke through the Wilderness cool and gray;
AVhile perched in the tallest tree-tops, the birds
Were
carolling
Mendelssohn's
"
Songs without
Words."
Far from the haunts of men remote, The brook brawled on with a liquid note; And Nature, all trancjuil and lovely, wore The smile of the spring, as in Eden of yore.
Little bv little, as davlight increased,
And
d('('i)ened
morning reveal
Two
two hundred thousand bayonets gleam, Tipped with the light of the earliest beam,
\Vh(M'o
VIII
20
402
POEMH OF NATIONAL
the faces are sullen
SPIRIT.
to see
And
and grim
And anon
the valley
was wreathed
in flame.
Down on
Where
a breastwork stands in a copse of pines, Before the Rebels their ranks can form,
And
Yet louder the thunder of battle roared Yet a deadlier fire on the columns poured; Slaughter infernal rode with Despair, Furies twain, through the murky air.
Not
far
off,
gray-bearded
man
Not much moved by the fire was Calm and resolute Robert Lee.
Quick and watchful he kept
On
his eye the bold Rebel brigades close by, Reserves that were standing (and dying) at ease. While the tempest of wrath toppled over the trees.
WAR.
For still with their loud, deep, bull-dog bay, The Yaukee batteries blazed away, And with every murderous second that sped
403
fell
dead.
The grand old graybeard rode to the space Where Death and his victims stood face to And silently waved his old slouched hat A world of meaning there was in that!
face,
"
" A\'e "11 save the day Steady This was what he seemed to say;
Follow me
And
^ye
And Go to the rear, and we '11 send them to hell And the sound of the battle was lost in their
'*
" go forward, but you must go back they moved not an inch in the perilous track:
'11
"
!
yell.
Turning Kode to
his bridle,
Robert Lee
Like waves of the sea,
the rear.
liursting the dikes in their overllow. Madly his veterans dashed on the foe.
And backward
in terror
that foe
was
driven,
Wherever the tide of battle rolled Over the Wilderness, wood and wold.
Sunset out of a crimson sky Streamed o'er a Held of ruddier dye,
404
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Seasons have passed since that da}' and year Again o'er its pebbles the brook runs clear, And the field in a richer green is drest
Where
Hushed is the roll of the Rebel drum, The sabres are sheathed, and the cannon are
dumb
And
Fate, with his pitiless hand, has furled The flag that once challenged the gaze of the
world
And down
Calm and The gray-bearded man in the black slouched hat. JOHN RANDOLPH THOMPSON.
of the Wilderness fight abides; into history grandly rides. unmoved as in battle he sat.
He
The
patiently followed their sober pace; merry whistle for once was still,
had said
He
never could
youngest go;
WAR.
Tw o already were lyiug dead Under the feet of the trauipliug
But
foe.
405
And
after the evening- work was done. the frogs were loud lu the meadow-swamp,
stealthily followed the foot-path
And
damp,
Across the clover and through the wheat With resolute heart and purpose grim, Though cold was the dew on his hurrying
feet,
And
Thrice since then had the lanes been white. And the orchards sweet with a[)i)le-bloom;
the cows
night,
For news had come to the lonely farm That three were lying where two had
lain;
And
the old man's tremulous, palsied Could never lean on a son's again.
arm
The summer day grew cool and late, lie went for the cows when the work was done; r>ut down the lane, as he opened the gate, He saw them coming one by one,
Ebony, ?<peckle, and Bess, Shaking their horns in the evening wind; Cropping the buttercups out of the grass, But who was it following close behind?
ISriudle,
Loosely
swung
The empty sleeve of army blue; And worn and pale, from the crisjiing hair. Looked out a face that the father knew.
40G
POEMS OF NATIONAL
will
SPIRIT.
sometimes yawn,
:
dawn
The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes, For the heart mnst speak when the lips are
December
21, ISGl.]
Our
cami>-fires shone bright on the mountains That frowned on the river below, While we stood by our guns in the morning And eagerly watched for the foe,
'*This song
tliousaiids of
liad
Sherman's
sol-
name
to the
campaign
one of Sherman's army, and was cajitured at tlie battle of Chattanooga. AVhile a prisoner he escaped, disguised himself in a Confederate uniform, went to tlie Southern army, and witnessed some of the fierce figliting about Atlanta. He was discovered and sent back to prison at Columbia, S. C, where he wrote the song. He soon escaped again, ireioined Sherman's army, and for a time served on GenFrom Cape Fear River he was sent eral Slierman's staff. North with despatches to Grant and President Lincoln, bringing the first news of Sherman's successes in the
Caroliuas.
WAR.
came out of the darkuess That hung over the mouutain aud tree, And shouted, " Boys, up aud be read}' For Shermau will march to the sea."
^Vlleu a rider
!
407
upon cheer for bold Sliernian up from each valley and glen, Aud the bugles re-echoed the music That came from the lips of the men For we knew that the stars in our banner More bright in their splendor would be, xVnd that blessings from Northland would greet
^^'ent
;
Tiien cheer
us
to the sea.
We
hills of
fell
God
who
Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory. Frowned down on the Hag of the free, But (he lOast and the West bore our standards, And Sherman marched on to the sea.
Still
onward we
pressed,
lili
our banners
Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls,' Aud the blood of the patriot dampened
The
soil
falls;
Yet we paused not to weep foi- tiie fallen. Who slept by each river and tree; We twined them a wreath of the laurel
to the sea.
proud was our army that morning. That stood where the pine darkly towers.
408
POEMS OF NATIOXAL
SPIRIT.
said: "Boys, you are weary; This day fair Savannah is ours " Then sang we a song for our chieftain,
!
When Sherman
That echoed
o'er river
and
lea,
And the stars in our banner shone When Sherman marched down to
SAMUEL
H. M. BYERS.
RIDE.
1865.
Ho
pony. Down the lonely road Strike now your cheeriest pace
!
The woods on fire do not burn higher Than burns my anxious face; Far have you sped, but all this night Must feel my nervous spur; If we be late, the world must wait The tidings Ave aver: To home and hamlet, town and hearth, To thrill child, mother, man, I carry to the waiting North Great news from Sheridan
pines,
Slain by the battle fright, Prone in the road the steed reclines
That never reached the fight Yet on we go, the wreck below Of many a tumbled wain, By ghastly pools where stranded mules
WAR.
With but my
I
list
400
of killed
and missed
tryst,
spur
my
stumbling nag,
How
'
goes
:
it,
say?"
!
Pass on And ]arts the darkness on before, And down the mire we tramp,
Huzza
And
is
painted o'er
With many a pulsing camp; O'er stumps and ruts, by ruined huts. Where ghosts look through the gloam,
Behind my tread I hear the dead Follow the news toward home!
see behind.
in ravine.
Whose
cry for mercy thrills the wind Till cracks the sure carbine;
The moving lights, which scare the dark, And show the trampled place Where, in his blood, some mother's bud Turns up his young, dead face; The ca])tives spent, whose standards rent The confjuci-or parades, As at the I'"'ive Forks roads arrive The General's dashing aides.
grand ruth
410
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The General's fame, tlie battle's name, The rolls of maimed and dead
with my thrilled soul astir, And lonely thoughts and fears; And am but History's courier
I bear,
To
And flash the lustre of this day Down all the aisles of Time!
Ho! pony,
't is the signal gun The night-assault decreed
;
On
Fade the
And
The
With bloody
flank,
And
hundred
lives beat
out
morning
light
Our hot and grimy boys; Through ditches wet, o'er })arapet
And guns
WAR.
The last, lost breticli and I, I reach The mail with my despatch!
;
411
Sure
it
As sped
The shot
This
tells
my
pony's knell;
My
The vultures
tleck the
that
first
Richmond
!
fell.
Go
long de road some time dis moruin', Like he gwine leabe de place?
see de
He
de Liucum gunboats lay; he liat an' lelT berry sudden. I spose he 's ruuned away.
Sung by iifj;ro truups wlicu ciiloiiiig Riflinioiid. George Cary Egglestoii, in iiis collection of "American
War
liallads," says that it soon f<nind favor among the " was sung with applause by young men and people ami maidens in well iiigii every house in Virginia."
412
POEi\W OF NATIONAL SPIRIT, De massa run, ha, ha De darkey stay, ho, ho It mils' be now de kingdiim comiu',
! !
An' de yar ob
Jubilo.
six foot one way an' two foot todder, An' he weigh six hundred poiin' His coat so big he couldn't pay de tailor, An' it won't reach half roun'
;
He
git so mighty tanned, I spec he 'II try to fool dem Yankees, For to tink he contraband.
He drill An he
way
so
much dey
calls
him
cap'n,
comin'
An' de yar ob
Jubilo,
darkeys got so lonesome libb'n In de log hut on de lawn, Dey moved dere tings into massa's parlor For to keep it while he gone.
De
Dar
When
de
Lincum
sojers come.
!
An' deyar ob
comin',
jubilo.
De
WAR.
413
cellar,
We
lock
him up
in de
tlimg in
lost,
smoke-house de well.
de han'-euff broke,
But de massy hab his pay; He big an' ole enough for to know better Dan to went an' run away. De massa run, ha, ha
!
De darkey
It
stay, ho,
ho
ANONYMOUS.
fold
it,
it is
best;
For there
's
not a
man
to
wave
it,
it,
And And
And
there there
's 's
not one left to lave it Tn the blood which heroes gave it,
its
foes
it,
now
hide
Furl
it:
let it rest!
Take that Banner down! 't is tattered; J>roken is its staff and shattered;
And
Oh,
Over
't
whom
is !i:u-d
Hard Hard
to think there
none to hold
unrolled
it,
that those
who once
it
Now must
furl it
with a sigh!
414
POEjihS
OF NATIONAL
^^PIRIT.
I
Furl that Banner furl it sadly Once ten thousands hailed it gladl}', And ten thousands wildly, madly, Swore it should forever wave; Swore that foeman's sword should never Hearts like theirs entwined dissever, Till that flag should float forever O'er their freedom or their grave
!
Furl
it!
for the
it,
And And
the hearts that fondly clasped Cold and dead are lying low;
it,
that lianner
it is
trailing,
Weep
for those
who
fell
before
it.
trailed
and tore
it;
And
oh, wildly they deplore it, Now to furl and fold it so!
Furl that Banner! True, 't is gory. Yet 't is wreathed around with glory.
And
't
will live in
Though its folds are in the dust! For its fame on bi'ightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages Furl its folds though now we must.
For
it
WAR.
Touch
Let
it
it never; furled forever, droop there, For its people's hopes are tied it
415
not
unfold
ALL.
There hangs a sabre, and there a rein, With a rustj buckle and green curb chain;
And
pair of sinirs on the old gray wall, a mouldy saddle well, that is all.
Come
it is
not far;
The moss grown door is hanging ajar. Look within! There 's an empty stall, Where once stood a charger, and that is
all.
riderless home, Flecked with blood drops as well as foam; See 3'onder hillock where dead leaves fall;
to death
that
's all.
God
it
Question me not I am old and weak; His sabre and his saddle hang on the wall. And his horse pined to death I have told you
is all
can
8i)eak.
all.
FBANX'IS
ALEXANDER DURIVAGE.
416
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air; Like some tanned reaper, in his hour of ease, When all the fields are lying brown and bare.
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills, O'er the dun waters widening in the vales, Sent down the air a greeting to the mills
On
flails.
All sights were mellowed and all sounds subdued, The hills seemed further and the stream sang
low,
As
in a
The embattled
forests, erewhile armed with gold, Their banners bright with every martial hue. Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old,
Withdrawn afar
On
slumb'rous wings the vulture held his flight; its sighing mate's com-
And, like a star slow drowning in the light. The village church-vane seemed to pale and
faint.
The sentinel-cock upon the hillside crew, Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before;
WAR.
Silent,
417
till some replying warden blew His alien horn, and then was heard no more.
Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall crest, Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged
young
;
And where the oriole hung her swaying nest, By every light wind like a censer swung;
Where sang
the noisy martens of the eaves, The busy swallows circling ever near, Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes. An early harvest and a plenteous year;
Where every
morn,
bird which cliarmed the vernal feast Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at
To warn the reaper of the rosy east All now was sunless, empty, and
forlorn.
Alone from out the stubble piped the quail, And croaked the crow through all the dreamy
in the vale.
Made echo
There was no bud. no bloom upon the bowers; The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by
night.
27
flowers,
418
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
air,
in
this
most cheerless
the woodbine shed upon the porch Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood there
Amid
all this,
The white-haired matron with monotonous tread Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien Sat, like a fate, and watched the flying thread.
She had known Sorrow,
her.
he
Oft supped, and broke the bitter ashen crust; And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir
Of
his black
in the dust.
While
\Qt
summer
bloom,
Uer country summoned iiud she gave her all; And twice War bowed to her his sable plume,
Ive-gave the
swords
to rust
upon the
wall.
Re-gave the swords, but not the hand that drew And struck for Libert}' the dying blow;
to his sire
Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on, Like the low murmur of a hive at noon; Long, but not loud, the iiK^iiory of the gone Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous
tune.
WAR.
At
last the thread
419
bowed
And
Life dropt the distaff through his hauds serene; loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud,
scene.
THOMAS BUCHANAN
READ.
's
Captain bold,
And
when the
deeds of might are told! They stand to the deck through the battle's wreck
shells roar
and screech
But
otf
when the foe is near to pracwhat they preach with your hat and three times three for
:
foe
the
men
be-
Oh,
and merry of heart are they when they swing into iort once more, \Vheii, with iiutrc than enough of the "greenliglit
backed
siiorc
;
sliilV,"
And you M
chaps who
akuig
tiie
street
420
POEMB OF NATIONAL
bit,
SPIRIT.
for
Are a tender
"
with salt on
it,
some
fierce
Some warrior
dazzles
and
The modest
the
lads
who
the shot
is
heard that
the fight
is
on,
Till
the long, deep roar grows more and more from the ships of '' Yank " and " Don,"
Till
fire
and
mad Despair
in the throes
ship,
unseen
You
chaps who are giving the raps the men behind the guns!
'11
find the
Oh, well they know how the cyclones blow that they loose from their cloud of death, And they know is heard the thunder-word their
fierce ten-incher saith!
The
steel
And
Avith the great recoil, the sea grows red with the blood of the dead and reaches for his spoil
shake
But not
till
runs. Shall the voice of peace bring sweet release to the men behind the guns!
prow and
WAR,
421
1898.]
By
'T
was the Spanish squadron lay; And tlie red dawn was creeping
O'er
tlie
To the
May.
There was peace at Manila, In the ]May morn at ]\Iimila,^ >Vhen ho, the Spanish admiral Awoke to find our line
passed by gray Corregidor, laughed at shoal and mine, liung to the sky its banners
"
With
Remember
shijts of
With the
Spain before
fight.
And
the first
With succor
No
port beneath that sky, With notliing but their ships and guns And Yaidcee ]lu(k to try,
They had left retreat beliind them, They had come to win or die!
422
We said
it
at Manila,
Or be ye brave, or be ye strong. Ye build your ships in vain; The children of the sea queen's brood Will not give up the main
;
We
As
Ye may trade by land, ye may Ye may hold the land in fee; But not go down to the sea in To battle with the free;
For England and America
Will keep and hold the sea
!
fight
by land,
ships
RICHARD HOVEY.
IV.
PEACE.
ODE TO PEACE.
Daughter of God Amid the dances of
I
jjuidest with thy gentle sway The phuiets on their tuneful way; Sweet l*eace! shall ne'er again The smile of thy most holy face,
And
From
Of discord-breathing men? Too long, O gladness-giving Queen! Thy tarrying in heaven has been Too long o'er this fair blooming world The Mag of blood has been unfurled,
;
Polluting (lod's pure day; Whilst, as each maddening i)eoj)le reels, ^N'ar onward drives his scvthed wheels.
And
Ofl
Ii;i\('
\\o])i
Of widow wailing
bitterly;
40:5
424
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT,
To see the parent's silent tear For children fallen beneath the spear;
And
have
felt so sore
The sense of human guilt and woe, That 1, in Virtue's passioned glov/, Have cursed (my soul was wounded The shape of man I bore Then come from thy serene abode, Thou gladness-giving child of God!
!
so)
And And
For much I long to see. Ere I shall to the grave descend, Thy hand its blessed branch extend,
WILLIAM TENNANT.
ACT
I.
SC.
1.
Now
is
Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merr}' meetings. Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
PEACE.
Grini-visaged
front.
425
War
And now,
To
friglit
He
To
DISARMAMENT.
"
Put
u\>
the sword
"
I
more
Sieaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped
^Yith nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe
'
Down
From
which a groaning diapason runs tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons Of desolate women in their far-off homes. Waiting to hear the step that never comes! O men and brothers! let that voice be heard. War fails, try peace; put up the useless sword!
There
is
a story told
In Eastern tents, when autumn nights grow cold, And round the fire the Mongol shepherds sit W^ith grave responses listening unto it:
Once on the errands of his mercy bent, Buddha, the holy and benevolent. Met a fell monster, Imge and fuM-ce of look, .Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook.
426
POEMH OF NATIONAL
and love
SPIRIT.
"
tliy
"O
fate
Is sealed at last,
The unarmed Buddha looking, with no trace Of fear or anger, in the monster's face,
In pity said, " I'oor fiend, even thee 1 love." Lo as he spake the sky-tall terror sank To hand-breadth size the huge abhorrence shrank Into the form and fashion of a dove;
!
And where
'*
Circling above
"
the thunder of its rage was heard. him sweetly sang the bird:
for love," so ran the song,
"
!
And
TUBAL CAIN.
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, In the days when earth was young;
By
The strokes
the fierce red light of his furnace bright, of his hammer rung:
And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear,
Till the
As he fashioned the sword and the spear. And he sang: Hurrah for my handiwork! Hurrah for the spear and the sword Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,
!
F'or
And
As
steel
blade
PEACE.
AdJ
he
427
strong,
Till they
And gave him gifts of pearl aud gold, And spoils of the forest free. And they sang " Hurrah for Tubal Cain,
:
hath given us strength anew Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the Aud hurrah for the metal true!"
!
Who
fire,
Ere the setting of the sun, And Tubal Cain was tilled with pain For the (^vil ho bad done; He saw that men, with rage and bate.
Made war
That the land was red with the blood they shed,
And
In their lust for carnage blind. he said: "Alas! that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan.
for
men whose
joy
fellow-man!"
And
for many a day old Tubal Cain Kat brooding o'er his woe; And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And bis furnace smouldered low.
But he
And a lu-igbt courageous eye. And bared his strong right arm
\N'hile the (piick
'*
And he sang: Hurrah for my handiwork! And the red sparks lit the air;
428
"
POEMH OF NATIONAL
for the blade
SPIRIT.
steel
Not alone
first
And men,
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on And ploughed the willing lands; And sang " Hurrah for Tubal Cain
:
friend
is
he;
And
for the ploughshare and the plough To him our praise shall be.
But while oppression lifts its head, Or a tyrant would be lord, Though we may thank him for the plough,
We
'11
CHARLES MACKAY.
Where may the grave of that good man be ? By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellj'n,
Under the twigs of a young birch-tree The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
!
And And
whistled and roared in the winter alone, Is gone, and the birch in its stead is grown.
dust.
And
I trust.
PEACE,
429
fall
ou the battle-field
figliting for
my
dear coun-
let
me
lie
Not on a
field of
battle
when
I die!
Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed head; Nor let the reeking knife. That I have drawn against a brother's life, Be in my hand when Death Thunders along, and tramples me beneath
His heavy squadron's
heels,
Or gory
felloes of his
cannon's wheels.
From such
Though
The
o'er
it
a dying bed.
the bald eagle brings clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings
And
To sparkle
O, never let
1
in
my
sight,
my
know
fly,
And
And
brazen helmets dance, sunshine Mashes on the lifted Innce; I know that bards have sung.
people shouted till the welkin rung. In honor of the bi-nve
And
Who
on the
I
l)Mttle-field
know
430
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
How
grateful hands piled nionumental stones. Some of those piles I 've seen
:
The one at Lexington upon the green Where the first blood was shed,
And
The
to
"
my And
Battle
And
Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still Thy tomb," Themistocles, That looks out yet upon the Grecian seas, And which the waters kiss
"
of Salamis.
And thine, too, have I seen. Thy mound of earth, Fatroclus, robed
in green,
That, like a natural knoll. Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll.
Watched
b}'
Upon
I
the margin of the plain of Troy. Such honors grace the bed,
his head.
And
hears, as
life
ebbs out,
The conquered flying, and the conqueror's shout; But as his eye grows dim, What is a column or a mound to him?
What, to the parting soul. The mellow note of bugles? What the Of drums? No, let me die
roll.
Where
As
it
me
lovingly,
And
the soft
summer
air.
goes by me, stirs my thin white hair. And from my forehead dries
it
The death-damp as
gathers,
and the
skies
PEACE.
Seem waiting
to receive
I
431
Or let me leave The world when round my bed Wife, children, weeping friends are gathered,
My
And
the calm voice of prayer holy hymning shall my soul prepare To go and be at rest
And
With kindred spirits, spirits who have blessed The human brotherhood By labors, cares, and counsels for their good. JOHN PIERPONT.
THE DAY
Come
for a tale there
is
IS
COMING.
Of the wonderful days a-coining, when all shall be better than well.
And
And
ICngland
be.
in the
in a thousand, days that are yet to come, Shall have some hope of the morrow, some joy of the ancient home.
For then
to
lliis
lislou
swine.
be better lodgeil
432
POEMS OP NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Then a man shall work and bethink him, and rejoice in the deeds of his hand; Nor yet come home in the even too faint and weary to stand.
Men
in that time
a-eoming
shall
YOU
this for a
that no
man
Of
to snatch at the
Nor
shall then be his indeed, shall half be reaped for nothing by him that sowed no seed.
But for whom shall we gather the gain? For ourselves and for each of our fellows, and no hand shall labor in vain.
Then all Mine and all Thine shall be Ours, and no more shall any man crave For riches that serve for nothing
but to fetter a friend for a slave.
And what
left us,
when none
PEACE.
To buv his friend in the market, and pinch and pine the sold?
433
Nay, what save the lovelj- city, and the little house on the hill, And the wastes and the woodland beauty, and the happy fields we till
;
And
the
homes
of ancient stories,
the tombs of the mighty dead; And the wise men seeking out marvels, and the poet's teeming head;
And And
all
For
all these shall be ours and all men's; nor shall any lack a shai-e Of the toil and the gain of living, in the days when the world grows fair.
Ah! such are the days that shall be! IJut what are the deeds of to-day. In the days of the years we dwell in, that wear our lives awav?
Why,
then, and for what are we waiting? There are three words to speak Wc u-ill if, and what is the foeman but the dream-strong wakened and weak?
:
VIII
28
434
POEMH OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Ob, why and for what are we waiting, while our brothers droop and die,
And on
How
where crowd on crowd they dwell, Poor ghosts of the wicked city,
the gold-crushed hungry hell?
Through squalid
life
they labored,
it,
we must answer and hasten, and open wide the door For the rich man's hurrying terror, and the slow-foot hope of the poor.
It is
Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched, and their unlearned discontent,
We
must
till
it
voice
and wisdom
Come
the living
PEACE.
And
o'er tlie weltering tangle a glinimei-iug light is shed.
let
435
Coine then,
ns cast
off fooling,
and put by ease and rest, For the Cause alone is woi-thy till the good days bring the ])est.
Come, join
in the
only batlle
fail.
wlierein no
man can
Where
])revail.
Ah! come,
we know:
That the dawn and the day is coming, and foi'th the bannei-s go. WII.MAM MUllRIS.
TPII"]
GK.VVi:
barren
isle,
OF
\\
P.ONAPARTI-:.
here the wild
Ox
lone
roaring
billows
Assail the s<ern rock, and the loud tempests
rave,
The hero
lows,
lies
still,
Like
fond
weejting
mourners,
lean
over
the
grave.
flash,
He
pain
free
from
all
430
He
to glory again!
shade of the mighty, where now are the legions That rushed but to conquer when thou led'st them on?
Alas! they have perished in far hilly regions, And all save the fame of their triumph is gone
rattle
!
from
pain
They
last battle!
No sound
Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, For, like thine own eagle that soared to the
sun.
leavest behind
A name
rattle.
Though nations
which before thee no mortal had won. may combat, and war's thunders
the steed wilt thou sweep o'er the
No more on
plain
:
Thou
last battle
No sound
PEACE.
437
Duke
It
was
a suniinoi- evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done, And lie before bis cottaoe door Was sitting in tbe snn And bv bini sported on tbe green His little grandcliild Wilbelmine.
;
She saw ber brotber Peterkin Roll soinetbing large and round,
Which he
" 'T
is
some
"Who
"I
438
And
often, when I go to plough, The ploughshare turns them out; For many thousand men," said he,
"
Were
"
tell us what 't was all about." Young Peterkin he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes,
Now
"
Now
tell
us
And what
" It
"
cried,
;
put the French to rout But what they fought each other for I could not well make out;
"
Who
But everybody said/' quoth he, That 't was a famous victory.
"
My
little stream hard by; burnt his dwelling to the ground, They
Yon
And
he was forced to
fly;
So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
"
With
fire
there,
But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
PEACE.
"
439
sight
Thej sav
After the
it
tield
liere
Lay rotting in the sun; But things liice tliat, you linow must be After a famous victory.
Great praise tiie Duke of Marlborough won, And oiu' good I'rince Eugene." " " Wliy, 't was a very wicked thing! Said little Wilhelmine.
'*
"
"
he,
"
And everybody
]>raised the
duke
Who
"
tliis
But what
Quoth
little
''Why. that
"
cannot
tell,"
said he;
But
't
was a famous
victory."
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
AT GIBRALTAR.
I.
a stranger; as thy bugles blow, feci witliin my blood old battles flow,
know
Tlie Ithtod
Still
whose ancient founts ar( in thee found surging daik against the Christian bound
Isliiiii
Wliilf
440
POEiVS OF NATIONAL
how Luckuow heard
.SPIRIT.
Thy heights
I
thinlj
gathering
sound.
I
turn and meet the cruel, turbaned face. England 't is sweet to be so much thy son!
!
I feel
my blood and race; Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun Startles the desei't over Africa.
the conqueror in
II.
art the rock of empire set mid-seas Between the East and West, that God has Advance thy Roman borders where thou While run thy armies true with his decrees;
Thou
built;
wilt,
Law,
justice, libert}',-
Watch
spilt,
great gifts are these. that they spread where English blood
sullied
is
Lest,
mixed and
with
his
country's
dis-
The
flow,
and Heaven
please
Two swords
there are one naked, apt to smite, blade of war; and, battle-storied, one Thy in the sheath, and hides from light. Rejoices
:
American
Now
westward, look, my country bids good night, Peace to the world, from ports without a gun! GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY.
PEACE,
441
monument
to
Kentucky
volunteers,
The
The soldier's last tattoo; No more on Life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's
eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are si)read, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Ko rumor
Now
No
swells
No
morrow's
strife
The warrior's dreaui alarms; No braying horn nor screaming At dawn shall call to arms.
fife
Thcii- shivered
rust,
Their })lumcd heads are bowed; Tiicir lianghty banner, trailed in dust, Is now llicir martial shroud.
And
And
battle gashed.
Are
442
POEMii OF NATIONAL
,<iPIRIT.
The neighing troop, the flashing blade, The bugle's stirring blast, The charge, the dreadful eannouade, The din and shout, are past;
glory's peal Shall thrill with fierce delight Those breasts that nevermore may feel
The rapture
Like the
fierce
of the fight.
northern hurricane
That sweeps his great plateau, Flushed Vvith the triumph yet to gain,
Came down
\Yho heard the thunder of the fray Break o'er the field beneath,
that day
conflict
]lain.
raged
that stricken
For never fiercer fight had waged The vengeful blood of Spain;
And
the storm of battle blew. swelled the gory tide; Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, Such odds his strength could bide.
still
Still
'T
was
in that
The nation's
By
His
PEACE.
And
well he
443
ioui'
many
a norther's breath
has swept
O'er Angostura's plain, And long the ])i tying sky has wept
Above its mouldered shiin. The raven's scream, or eagle's tlight, Or shepherd's pensive lay. Alone awakes each sullen heiglit That frowned o'er that dread fray.
Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground, Ye must not slumber there, Where stranger steps and tongues resound
soil
Shall be your fitter grave: She claims from war his richest spoil The ashes of her brave.
Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, Far from the gory field, Borne to a Spartan mother's breast
On many
a bloody shield
The sunshine of
And
I)ear as
blood
yt^
gave;
444
POEMS OF NATIONAL
No
;
SPIRIT.
The herbage of your grave Nor shall your glory be forgot While Fame her record keeps, Or HoDor poiuts the hallowed spot
sleeps.
Yon marble
In deathless song shall tell, When man}' a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's Nor Time's remorseless doom,
;
blight.
Shall dim one ray of glory's light That gilds your deathless tomb.
THEODORE o'hARA.
the arsenal.
From
floor to ceiling,
But from
their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms.
will
rise
how
wild and
keys
When the death-angel touches those swift What loud lament and dismal miserere
hear even
now
The
PEACE.
445
On helm and
Through
song
:
And
loud amid the universal clamor. O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.
hear the Florentine, who from his palace Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din; And Aztec i)riests upon their teocallis Beat the wild war-drums made of serpents'
I
skin;
The tumult of each sacked and burning village; The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns; The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage; The wail of famine in beleaguered towns; The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, The rattling musketry, the clashing blade And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, The diapason of the cannonade.
it, () man. with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest nature's sweet and kindly voices.
Ts
And
Were
half the
power that
fills
ror,
446
POEMS OF NATIONAL
half the wealth
courts,
SPIRIT.
Were
Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts
;
a name abhorred; every nation that should lift aji;ain Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
And
Down
And
I
like
bell,
hear once
''
of
Christ
say,
Peace
"
!
Peace!
and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of war's great organ shakes the skies;
But, beautiful as songs of the immortals. The holy melodies of love arise.
AN OLD BATTLE-FIELD.
The And
softest whisperings of the scented South, rust and roses in the cannon's mouth
;
And, where the thunders of the fight were born. The wind's sweet tenor in the standing corn
;
With song
And
of larks, low-lingering in the loam, blue skies bending over love and home.
PEACE.
But
still
447
the
tliouglit:
Somewhere,
upon
the
hills,
Or where
Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat For the loved sound of uureturuiug feet.
And, when the oaks their leafy banners wave, Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave!
FRANK
LKliliY
STANTON.
THE BATTLE-FIELD.
Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands. Were trampled by a hwrrying crowd. And fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered
in
(he battle-cloud.
Alii never shall the land forget gushed the life-blood of her brave,
How
(iushed,
warm
Ujion the
soil
all is calm and fresh and still; Alone the chirp of Hitting bird. And talk of children on the hill.
Now
And
bell
No solemn
Men
battle-cry,
I
O, be
448
POEMS OF NATIONAL
;
SPIRIT.
but thou
For truths
whicli
men
A A
friendless warfare
lingering long
Through weary day and weary year; wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front and flank and rear.
spirit to the proof,
;
blench not at thy chosen lot The timid good may stand aloof,
And
Nor heed
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn; For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born.
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again,
The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And
dies
among
his worshii)pers.
lie
upon the
thee
dust,
floe in fear,
When
they
who helped
Die full of ho[)e and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here!
Another hand thv sword shall wield. Another hand the standard wave. Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed The blast of triumph o'er tln^ gr.ave. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
PEACE.
4i9
HOW
How
By When
all
sleep the brave who sink to rest their country's wishes blest!
Spring', with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mold, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom
there
WILLIAM COLLINS.
We
see the fruiting fields increase Where sound of war no more shall come.
The swallow skims the Tennessee, Soft winds play o'er the Rapidan;
There only echo notes of glee, Where gleamed a mighty army's van!
Fair Chattanooga's wooded slope
With summer
VIII
airs
is
29
lightly stirred,
450
POEMS OF NATIONAL
a heart
is
.SPIRIT.
And many
Where once
And Mission Ridge is gemmed with On man}^ a height sleep gallant souls, And still the blooming ' vears return.
Thank God unseen to outward eye, But felt in every freeman's breast,
!
fern;
From
life,
To freedom's
And
O, Boys in Blue, we turn to you, The scarred and mangled who survive;
No more we meet
But
Still
all
glows the jewel in its shrine. where the James now tranquil Its wealth for all, the glory thine,
Won
rolls;
O memory
of heroic souls!
PEACE.
451
SONGS."
The
waits,
bard has not come yet, His song through one of to-morrow's gates Shall shine but never set.
Its
he '11 sweep tears all stringed, with harp And the ver^- notes he sti-ikes will weep. As they come, from his hand, woe-winged.
Ah! grand
sliall
be his strain,
And his songs shall fill all climes, And the Rebels shall rise and march again Down the lines of his glorious rhymes.
his verse shall gleam The swords that (lashed in vain, And the men who wore the gray shall seem To be marshalling again.
IJut
And through
And you
452
POEMS OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
sigh;
And the father's curse and the mother's And the desolate young wife's moan.
I sing,
with a voice too low To be heard beyond to-day, In minor keys of my peoj^le's woe; And my songs pass away.
My
songs
like the
birds' will
my
be forgot,
And And
forgotten shall be
!
name.
yet who knows betimes The grandest songs depart, While the gentle, humble, and low-toned rhymea Will echo from heart to heart. ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN.
SENTINEL SONGS.
When
Dead at the feet of wrong, The poet sings, and guards his grave With sentinels of song.
Songs, march
!
brave
Keep The living and dead of the Conquered Land Have now no guards save you.
;
faithful
PEACE,
Go
!
453
fell,
halt
by the
fields
where warriors
SoDgsI your watch is long! soldiers' guard was brief. Whilst right is right, and wrong is wrong,
List,
The
Ye may not
seek relief.
Go! wearing the gray of grief! Go watch o'er the Dead in Gray! Go guard the private aud guard the
I
chief,
Aud
And the songs, in stately rhyme, And wilh softly sounding tread. Go forth, to watch for a time a time,
"Where sleep the Deathless Dead.
And
whilst
From
What
thouijh no sculptured shaft Immoitalize each bravo? Wliat thougli no monument epitaphed Be built above each grave? &
jruard
our
soldiers' clay
Will
still fulfil
their trust.
454
With
ODE.
[Sung on the occasion of decorating tlie graves of the Confederate dead, at Magnolia Cenieter}^ Charleston, S. C]
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause Though yet no marble column craves The pilgrim here to pause,
!
The blossom
of your
fame
is
blown.
And somewhere,
The shaft
waiting for
the stone!
its birth,
is in
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years Which keep in trust your storied tombs, Behold! your sisters bring their tears, And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile More proudly on these wreaths to-day, Then when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
There
is
PEACE.
455
Than where defeated valor lies, Bv mourn iug beauty crowned HEXRY TIMROD.
!
soldiers.]
the blades of the j^rave-grass (]uiver Asleep are the ranks of the dead ;
tlie
dew.
Under the
tlie
battle-blood i;or\
In the dusk of eternity meet; Under the sod and the dew, Tender the
laui-el.
the Blue;
Under
From
The
llic
desolat(
mourners
^o,
Lovinjily laden with flowers Alike for the fi-iend nnd the foe, Undei- (he sod and the dew,
Waitiiiii llie Jiid.uiiient-day
450
POEM^ OF NATIONAL
SPIRIT.
Under the roses, the Blue; Under the lilies, the Gray.
So with an equal splendor The morning sun-rays fall,
With
On
'Broidered with gold, the Blue; Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
So when the summer calleth, On forest and field of grain With an equal murmur falleth The cooling drip of the rain; Under the sod and the dew,
Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray.
Sadly, but not with upbraiding.
The generous deed was done In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won
; ;
W^aiting the judgment-day; Under the blossoms, the Blue; Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more
Or the winding
rivers be red
They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead
PEACE.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting- the judgnient-day Love and tears for the Blue,
;
457
CENTENNIAL HYMN.
[1876.]
Ouu
fathers'
God
The centuries
fall like
We
meet to-day, united, free, And loyal to our land and Thee, To thank Thee for the era done. And trust Thee for the oi)ening one.
Here, where of old, by Thy design. The fathers spake that word of Thine Whose echo is the glad refrain Of rended bolt and falling chain. To grace our festal time, from all
The zones
we
call.
Be with us while the New World The Old World thronging all its
Unveiling
greets
streets,
ordain
Thou,
who
The war
(lags of a
gathered world.
458
POEMH OF NATIONAL
Beneath our Western skies
SPIRIT.
fulfil
Tlie Orient's mission of good-will, And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece,
Send back
its
Argonauts of peace.
For art and labor met in truce, For beauty made the bride of use, We thank Thee; but, withal, we crave The austere virtues strong to save, The honor proof to place or gold, The manhood never bought nor sold
!
us, through centuries long, In peace secure, in justice strong; Around our gift of freedom draw
Oh make Thou
The safeguards of thy righteous law And, cast in some diviner mould. Let the new cycle shame the old JOHN GREENLEAP WHITTIER.
: !
HYMN OF THE
world's pair,
ST.
[1904.]
^VEST.*
LOUIS.
Thou, whose glorious orbs on high Engird the earth with splendor round.
out Thy secret place draw nigh
of this
From
ground;
PEACE.
These domes that
in Tli y
459
purpose grew,
And
lift
Illumine Thou each ])athway here, To show the marvels God hath wrought
Since
first Thy ]>eo]le's chief and seer Looked up with lliat ]trophetic tiiought, JJade Time unroll The faleful scroll, And empire unto Freedom gave
From cloudland
Poured through Ihe gateways of the North Thy mighty rivei-s join their tide, And on the wings of morn sent forth
Their mists the
far-oil"
peaks divide.
Oi)]iir
shame,
of seven-hued tiame.
what years the soil hath lain, At Thine own time to give increase The greater and the lesser grain. The ripening holl, the myriad ileece!
The
Thy hand.
Thou, wliosc
liigli ai-cliw ays shine most clear Above the plenteous wcstci-n plain. Thine ancicnl hihcs from inninl tlic sphere
To
are fain;
4G0
And
To
Their
see
made one
throughout
Earth's
greenest
brood
of the
sfjace,
Land
STEDMxiN.
[The foregoing was the official hymn of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition at St. Louis in 1904. It was written upon invitation of the Exposition authorities, and was sung at the opening of tlie Fair by a chorus of five hundred voices, to music written for it, also u^wn official invitation, by Professor John K. Paine, of Harvard University. It
fitly
INDEX
OF AUTHORS AND
TITLES.
For occupation,
can
publishers
of
nativity, etc., of authors, and the AmeriAi)icrican poetical works, sec General
ADDISON, JOSEPH.
Sempionius'
Speech for
War
(Cato)
page. 193
ALLSTON, WASHINGTON.
America
to Great Britain
27
ALTKXJURG, MICHAEL.
iJattle-Song of Gustavus Adolphu.s.
Song
tlic
IVanslation
\\li;it
is
232
mktiael Joseph.
wiicre
Man
Ill
302 IPO
"
(Ethel Lynn).
Potomac
350
riu-
108
ProsjM'ct
<it'
Plant
itig
ArN
niid
Learning
in
.Aiiifrica
01
Suldicr
303 370
4G3
464
BOUCTCAULT, DION.
Wearing
]\Ien
of the Green,
The
57
Sword Song
The
hills
78
217
139
838 171
14(1
85
BROWNING, ROBERT.
C4ive a
Rouse
tlie
Incident of
French
Camp
271 230
1G8
The
Song
of Marion's
Men
"
330
304 39
BURNS, ROBERT.
Bannockburn
"
My
BYERS, SAMUEL
HAWKINS MARSHALL.
400
183 125 127 130
287
281 67 118 225 144 197
CAMPBELL, THOMAS.
Battle of the Baltic Exile of Erin
AUTHORS AND
CARFA'.
TITLES.
465
page.
18
HENRY.
"'
Tomb, The
"
428
449
COWJ'ER. \MLLL\M.
The aak Slavery (The Task)
Englaml
'I
10 135
292
81
CROLY, GEORGE.
Catiline to the Riiinaii Army (Catiline) Deatli of Leonidas, The
188 194
DAVIS.
THOMAS OSBORNE.
277
Eontciuty
DlJiDlX,
THOMAS
JuilN.
Snug
Little Island,
The
1.5
America
92
conan.
Company)
12
Bluffs,
The
20
DR.VYTON. MICIfAKL.
Ballad of A-ineourt, Tlic
2G4
413
80
"
DWIGTIT. TnrOTIlY.
Columbia
320
13
FIELDING, IIE^|:^
Roast Beef
of
<
ld
England. The
466
AUTHOBS AND
TITLES.
page.
455 328
Mind
H.
161
GASSAWAY, FRANK
Bay
Billy
371
356
The
The Traveller)
51
GOLDSMITH. OLIVER.
East, West, Home's Best
(
GRAY",
THOMAS.
34
Bard, The
HALLECK. FITZ-GREENE.
Marco Bozzaris
200
Western Men
136
HAY, JOHN.
Liberty
112
HEATH, LEONARD.
Grave of Bonaparte, The
435
150
HERWEGH, GEORG.
Trooper's Death, The (HaymonfVs Translation)
220 336
AUTHORS AND
UOVEY, RICHARD.
Battle of :Manila, The
TITLES.
46?
pack. 421
172
:i81
Orders
355
K EX X
!:
\)y.
H A ^LM( >XD.
Nations
J'raycr,
The
102
20!)
31
Translation)
215
//oo/,-.s'
Translation)
78 217
LA CONTE, MARIA.
Somebody's Darling
378
LA FONTAINE. JEAN
LASCELLES, SIR
121
FRANK CAVENDISH.
208
LAZARUS, EMMA.
Gifts
8
The
20G
444 94
468
Altiiea
AV Til on 8 AND
from Prison, To
TITLES.
page
133
of
Old England."
13
The
296
LUXT, GEORGE.
Requiem
388
60 62
MACKAY, CHARLES.
Tubal Cain
426
156
ANNA JOHNSTON
.
(MRS. SEUMAS)
54
Naseby
226 272
MARLOW^E, CHRISTOPHER.
School of War, The (Tamhurlaine)
185
MELLEN. GRENVILLE.
"
327
MILTON, JOHxV.
Battle of the Angels {Paradise Lost)
170
lillTFORD,
MARY RUSSELL.
Romans
(Rienzi)
Rienzi to the
123
My
Country
140 5
AUTHOnS AND
MOORE, TKOMAS.
" "
TITLES.
4G9
page. 138 138
As by the shore at break of clay " The harp that once through Tara's Halls
is
"
MORRIS, WILLIA^I.
Day
Couiing, The
431
MOTHERWELL, WILLIAM.
Cavalier's Song,
"
The
(Orpheus C. Kerr).
270
285
S.
SHERIDAN
(LADY
221
O'CONOR. JOSEPH.
Generals Death, The
3G9
56
O'HARA, THEODORE.
Bivouac of the Dead
441
"
OLIPHANT, "
O'REILLY,
THOJtLVS.
the
Where are
men
(Welsh of Taliessin)
301
JOHN BOYLE.
Land
(From the Spanish)
59
Aly Native
ORMSBV. JOHN.
Battle Scene
205
ORR, JAMES.
Irishman, The
,
52
404
324
Tree
TURNER.
21.1
Way
.^00
PAR.VELL,
FRANCES ISABELL.
G8
After Death
470
PIATT,
AUTHORS AND
JOHN JAMES.
TITLES.
page. 66
Ireland.
PIERPONT, JOHN.
Not on the Battle-Field Warren's Address
429 326
PIKE, ALBERT.
Dixie
106
392
103
366 220
416 383
REALP, RICHARD.
Holy Nation,
Old
178
Man and
Jim, The
357
419
CLAUDE JOSEPH.
143
SCHNECKENBURGER. MAX.
Watch on
the Rhine, The (Translation)
80
AUTHORS AND
SCOTT, SIR WALTER. Bear an Dhuiiie (Lady
TITLES.
4/1
page. 307 322
of the Lake)
BoniU'ts of Bonnie Dundee. The Bonier Ballad "' '' Breathes there the man [Lay of ihe Last Minstrel)
50
4
Flodden Field Mannion) Pibroch uf Donuil I)hu Scotland Song of Clan-Alpine (Lady of the Lake)
(
312 311
33
305
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM.
End of the King to his
Civil War (King Richard) soldiers before Harfieur, The
424
SMITH,
SAMUEL FRANCIS.
95
America
SOUTHEY, ROBERT.
Battle of Blenheim, Tlie
437
An
446
Hymn
STERLIXG, JOHX.
Alfred the Harper
238
Galloway Legend
40
97
the
men
"
(OliphanVs Translation)
....
301
TENNAXT. WILLIAM.
Peace, Ode to
423
Hands
all
294
2!l
ROSCOK
(/'</,//
lUrm&s).
.^.
202
473
C. S.
AUTH0R8 AND
Army's Commissary, The
TITLES.
page. 390
401
381)
Music
in
Camp
THOMSON, JAMES.
Rule Britannia (Alfred)
11
TIMROD, HENRY.
Cry Ode
to
Arms,
100 454
408
Death
'
375
WATSON, WILLIAM.
England and her Colonies Turk in Armenia, The (The Purple East)
32
22
362
109
4.57
Hymn
Disarmament John Charles Fremont Laus Deo Our State Reformer, The
425
17,3
176 93 157
WOLFE, CHARLES.
Burial of Sir John Moore
,
...,.,
28.3;
473
page.
43!)
WRIGHT, ELIZUR.
Wolf and the Dog, The {French " ANONYMOUS.
Chevy-Cliace Countersign, The Dance, The Douglas Tragedy, The Sir Patrick Spens
of
La Fontaine)
121
244
.3.52
334
2.58
2.54
Tramp. Tramp. Tramp When this cruel war is over " Year of Jubilee, The
"
380 382
411*
..-
l:^orld_Ls_bes^_roetry
PR
Vorl^. s be st
'
pD- try-
1175
.W6
V.4