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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10518-0.txt b/10518-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70290ba --- /dev/null +++ b/10518-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4323 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10518 *** + +POEMS + +By John Hay + + + + +Note to Revised Edition + + + +The Publishers of this volume, desiring to print it in an improved form, +have asked me to write something by way of preface or supplement to the +new edition. After some deliberation I have found myself unable to comply +with this request. These pages were written in the first half of the year +1870, a time of intense interest and importance, to Spain. I left Madrid +in the memorable August of that year, passing through Paris when that +beautiful city was lying in the torpor which followed the wild excitement +of the declaration of war, and preceded the fury of despair that came with +the catastrophe of Sedan. I then intended to return to Spain before long; +and, in fact, few years have passed since that time in which I have not +nourished the dream of revisiting the Peninsula and its scenes of magic +and romance. But many cares and duties have intervened; I have never gone +back to Spain, and I have arrived at an age when I begin to doubt if I +have any castles there requiring my attention. + +I have therefore nothing to add to this little book. Reading it again +after the lapse of many years, I find much that might be advantageously +modified or omitted. But as its merits, if it have any, are merely those +of youth, so also are its faults, and they are immanent and structural; +they cannot be amended without tearing the book to pieces. For this reason +I have confined myself to the correction of the most obvious and flagrant +errors, and can only hope the kindly reader will pass over with an +indulgent smile the rapid judgments, the hot prejudices, the pitiless +condemnations, the lyric eulogies, born of an honest enthusiasm and +unchecked by the reserve which comes of age and experience. I venture to +hope, though with some anxiety and uncertainty, that the honest enthusiasm +may itself be recognized, as well as the candor which the writer tried to +preserve in speaking of things which powerfully appealed to his loves and +his hates. + +I therefore commit this book to the public once more with its +imperfections on its head; with its prophecies unfulfilled, its hopes +baffled, its observations in many instances rendered obsolete by the swift +progress of events. A changed Europe--far different from that which I +traversed twenty years ago--suffers in a new fever-dream of war and +revolution north of the Pyrenees; and beyond those picturesque mountains +the Spanish monarchy enjoys a new lease of life by favor of circumstances +which demand a chronicler of more leisure than myself. I must leave what I +wrote in the midst of the stirring scenes of the interregnum between the +secular monarchy and the short-lived Republic--whose advent I foresaw, but +whose sudden fall was veiled from my sanguine vision--without defense or +apology, claiming only that it was written in good faith, from a heart +filled with passionate convictions and an ardent love and devotion to what +is best in Spain. I recorded what I saw, and my eyes were better then than +now. I trust I have not too often spoken amiss of a people whose art, +whose literature, whose language, and whose character compelled my highest +admiration, and with whom I enjoyed friendships which are among the +dearest recollections of my life. + +John Hay. + +Lafayette Square, Washington, +_April_, 1890. + + + + +Contents. + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + Jim Bludso + Little Breeches + Banty Tim + The Mystery of Gilgal + Golyer + The Pledge at Spunky Point + + +Wanderlieder. + + Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + The Sphinx of the Tuileries + The Surrender of Spain + The Prayer of The Romans + The Curse of Hungary + The Monks of Basle + The Enchanted Shirt + A Woman's Love + On Pitz Languard + Boudoir Prophecies + A Triumph of Order + Ernst of Edelsheim + My Castle in Spain + Sister Saint Luke + + +New And Old. + + Miles Keogh's Horse + The Advance Guard + Love's Prayer + Christine + Expectation + To Flora + A Haunted Room + Dreams + The Light of Love + Quand-Même + Words + The Stirrup Cup + A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + Liberty + The White Flag + The Law of Death + Mount Tabor + Religion and Doctrine + Sinai and Calvary + The Vision of St. Peter + Israel + Crows at Washington + Remorse + Esse Quam Vlderi + When the Boys Come Home + Lèse-Amour + Northward + In the Firelight + In a Graveyard + The Prairie + Centennial + A Winter Night + Student-Song + How It Happened + God's Vengeance + Too Late + Love's Doubt + Lagrimas + On the Bluff + Una + "Through the Long Days and Years" + A Phylactery + Blondine + Distichs + Regardant + Guy of the Temple + + +Translations. + + The Way to Heaven + After Heine: Countess Jutta + + + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + +Jim Bludso, of the Prairie Belle. + + +Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, + Becase he don't live, you see; +Leastways, he's got out of the habit + Of livin' like you and me. +Whar have you been for the last three year + That you haven't heard folks tell +How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks + The night of the Prairie Belle? + +He weren't no saint,--them engineers + Is all pretty much alike, +One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill + And another one here, in Pike; +A keerless man in his talk was Jim, + And an awkward hand in a row, +But he never flunked, and he never lied,-- + I reckon he never knowed how. + +And this was all the religion he had,-- + To treat his engine well; +Never be passed on the river + To mind the pilot's bell; +And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire,-- + A thousand times he swore, +He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last soul got ashore. + +All boats has their day on the Mississip, + And her day come at last, +The Movastar was a better boat, + But the Belle she _would n't_ be passed. +And so she come tearin' along that night-- + The oldest craft on the line-- +With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, + And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. + +The fire bust out as she clared the bar, + And burnt a hole in the night, +And quick as a flash she turned, and made + For that willer-bank on the right. +There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, + Over all the infernal roar, +"I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last galoot's ashore." + +Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat + Jim Bludso's voice was heard, +And they all had trust in his cussedness, + And knowed he would keep his word. +And, sure's you're born, they all got off + Afore the smokestacks fell,-- +And Bludso's ghost went up alone + In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. + +He weren't no saint,--but at jedgment + I'd run my chance with Jim, +'Longside of some pious gentlemen + That wouldn't shook hands with him. +He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing,-- + And went for it thar and then; +And Christ ain't a going to be too hard + On a man that died for men. + + + +Little Breeches + + +I don't go much on religion, + I never ain't had no show; +But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, + On the handful o' things I know. +I don't pan out on the prophets + And free-will, and that sort of thing,-- +But I b'lieve in God and the angels, + Ever sence one night last spring. + +I come into town with some turnips, + And my little Gabe come along,-- +No four-year-old in the county + Could beat him for pretty and strong, +Peart and chipper and sassy, + Always ready to swear and fight,-- +And I'd larnt him to chaw terbacker + Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. + +The snow come down like a blanket + As I passed by Taggart's store; +I went in for a jug of molasses + And left the team at the door. +They scared at something and started,-- + I heard one little squall, +And hell-to-split over the prairie + Went team, Little Breeches and all. + +Hell-to-split over the prairie! + I was almost froze with skeer; +But we rousted up some torches, + And sarched for 'em far and near. +At last we struck hosses and wagon, + Snowed under a soft white mound, +Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe + No hide nor hair was found. + +And here all hope soured on me, + Of my fellow-critter's aid,-- +I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, + Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. + + * * * * * + +By this, the torches was played out, + And me and Isrul Parr +Went off for some wood to a sheepfold + That he said was somewhar thar. + +We found it at last, and a little shed + Where they shut up the lambs at night. +We looked in and seen them huddled thar, + So warm and sleepy and white; +And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, + As peart as ever you see, +"I want a chaw of terbacker, + And that's what's the matter of me." + +How did he git thar? Angels. + He could never have walked in that storm +They jest scooped down and toted him + To whar it was safe and warm. +And I think that saving a little child, + And fotching him to his own, +Is a derned sight better business + Than loafing around The Throne. + + + +Banty Tim + +(Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to The White Man's Committee of Spunky +Point, Illinois.) + + +I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- + You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; +This is a white man's country; + You're Dimocrats, you say; +And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, + The times bein' all out o' j'int, +The nigger has got to mosey + From the limits o' Spunky P'int! + +Le's reason the thing a minute: + I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, +Though I laid my politics out o' the way + For to keep till the war was through. +But I come back here, allowin' + To vote as I used to do, +Though it gravels me like the devil to train + Along o' sich fools as you. + +Now dog my cats ef I kin see, + In all the light of the day, +What you've got to do with the question + Ef Tim shill go or stay. +And furder than that I give notice, + Ef one of you tetches the boy, +He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime + Than he'll find in Illanoy, + +Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! + You know that ungodly day +When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped + And torn and tattered we lay. +When the rest retreated I stayed behind, + Fur reasons sufficient to me,-- +With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, + I sprawled on that cursed glacee. + +Lord! how the hot sun went for us, + And br'iled and blistered and burned! +How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us + When a cuss in his death-grip turned! +Till along toward dusk I seen a thing + I couldn't believe for a spell: +That nigger--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me + Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! + +The Rebels seen him as quick as me, + And the bullets buzzed like bees; +But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, + Though a shot brought him once to his knees; +But he staggered up, and packed me off, + With a dozen stumbles and falls, +Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, + His black hide riddled with balls. + +So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, + And here stays Banty Tim: +He trumped Death's ace for me that day, + And I'm not goin' back on him! +You may rezoloot till the cows come home + But ef one of you tetches the boy, +He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell. + Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! + + + +The Mystery of Gilgal + + +The darkest, strangest mystery +I ever read, or heern, or see, +Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall,-- + Tom Taggart's of Gilgal. + +I've heern the tale a thousand ways, +But never could git through the maze +That hangs around that queer day's doin's; + But I'll tell the yarn to youans. + +Tom Taggart stood behind his bar, +The time was fall, the skies was fa'r, +The neighbors round the counter drawed, + And ca'mly drinked and jawed. + +At last come Colonel Blood of Pike, +And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like, +And each, as he meandered in, + Remarked, "A whisky-skin" + +Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r, +And slammed it, smoking, on the bar. +Some says three fingers, some says two,-- + I'll leave the choice to you. + +Phinn to the drink put forth his hand; +Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland, +"I ax yer parding, Mister Phinn-- + Jest drap that whisky-skin." + +No man high-toneder could be found +Than old Jedge Phinn the country round. +Says he, "Young man, the tribe of Phinns + Knows their own whisky-skins!" + +He went for his 'leven-inch bowie-knife:-- +"I tries to foller a Christian life; +But I'll drap a slice of liver or two, + My bloomin' shrub, with you." + +They carved in a way that all admired, +Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired. +It took Seth Bludso 'twixt the eyes, + Which caused him great surprise. + +Then coats went off, and all went in; +Shots and bad language swelled the din; +The short, sharp bark of Derringers, + Like bull-pups, cheered the furse. + +They piled the stiffs outside the door; +They made, I reckon, a cord or more. +Girls went that winter, as a rule, + Alone to spellin'-school. + +I've sarched in vain, from Dan to Beer- +Sheba, to make this mystery clear; +But I end with _hit_ as I did begin,-- + WHO GOT THE WHISKY-SKIN?" + + + +Golyer + + +Ef the way a man lights out of this world + Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, +I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben +Will lay over lots of likelier men + For one thing he done down here. + +You didn't know Ben? He driv a stage + On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; +He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, + And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean,-- +No better nor worse than the rest. + +He was hard on women and rough on his friends; + And he didn't have many, I'll let you know; +He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, +But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, + And I guess there's many jess so. + +I've seed my sheer of the run of things, + I've hoofed it a many and many a miled, +But I never seed nothing that could or can +Jest git all the good from the heart of a man + Like the hands of a little child. + +Well! this young one I started to tell you about,-- + His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through,-- +He was just at the age that's loudest for boys, +And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice, + We called him "the Little Boy Blue." + +He ketched a sight of Ben on the box, + And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, +For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; +I tried to tell him it wouldn't do, + When suddingly Golyer growled, + +"What's the use of making the young one cry? + Say, what's the use of being a fool? +Sling the little one up here whar he can see, +He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me,-- + The night ain't any too cool." + +The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; + "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." +And jest as nice as a woman could do, +He wrapped his blanket around them + And was off in the crack of a whip. + +We rattled along an hour or so, + Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. +Did you ever hear an Apache yell? +Well, ye needn't want to, _this_ side of hell; + There's nothing more devilish there. + +Caught in the shower of lead and flint + We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; +Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben, +As he gethered his critters up again, + And tore away with a lunge. + +The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right, + He's druv five year and never was struck." +"Now if _I_'d been thar, as sure as you live, +They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as _a_ sieve; + It's the reg'lar Golyer luck." + +Over hill and holler and ford and creek + Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; +We got to Looney's, and Ben come in +And laid down the baby and axed for his gin, + And dropped in a heap on the floor. + +Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid,-- + Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; +And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball,-- +Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." +Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall,-- + And he carried his thanks to God + + + +The Pledge at Spunky Point + +A Tale of Earnest Effort and Human Perfidy. + + +It's all very well for preaching + But preachin' and practice don't gee: +I've give the thing a fair trial, + And you can't ring it in on me. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + Ef that's what you want me to sign; +Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, + And I'll not take any in mine. + +A year ago last Fo'th July + A lot of the boys was here. +We all got corned and signed the pledge + For to drink no more that year. +There was Tilman Joy and Sheriff McPhail + And me and Abner Fry, +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. + +And we anteed up a hundred + In the hands of Deacon Kedge +For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th + 'Mongst the boys that kep' the pledge. +And we knowed each other so well, Squire, + You may take my scalp for a fool, +Ef every man when he signed his name + Didn't feel cock-sure of the pool. + +Fur a while it all went lovely; + We put up a job next day +Fur to make Joy b'lieve his wife was dead, + And he went home middlin' gay; +Then Abner Fry he killed a man + And afore he was hung McPhail +Jest bilked the widder outen her sheer + By getting him slewed in jail. + +But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, + The egg-nogs gethered him in; +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + Was, New Year's, tight as sin; +And along in March the Golyers + Got so drunk that a fresh-biled owl +Would 'a' looked 'long-side o' them two young men, + Like a sober temperance fowl. + +Four months alone I walked the chalk, + I thought my heart would break; +And all them boys a-slappin' my back + And axin', "What'll you take?" +I never slep' without dreamin' dreams + Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, +But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore + I'd rake that pool or die. + +At last--the Fo'th--I humped myself + Through chores and breakfast soon, +Then scooted down to Taggarts' store-- + For the pledge was off at noon; +And all the boys was gethered thar, + And each man hilt his glass-- +Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like + Fur to see the last minute pass. + +The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug + And took one lovin' pull +I was holler clar from skull to boots, + It seemed I couldn't git full. +But I was roused by a fiendish laugh + That might have raised the dead-- +Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock + A half an hour ahead! + +"All right!" I squawked. "You've got me, + Jest order your drinks agin, +And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's + And scoop the ante in." +But when we got to Kedge's, + What a sight was that we saw! +The Deacon and Parson Skeeters + In the tail of a game of Draw. + +They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', + The Parson's luck was fa'r, +And he raked, the minute we got thar, + The last of our pool on a pa'r. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + I 'low it's all very fine, +But ez fur myself, I thank ye, + I'll not take any in mine. + + + + +Wanderlieder. + + + +Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + +(Paris, _August_, 1865.) + + +I stand at the break of day + In the Champs Elysées. +The tremulous shafts of dawning +As they shoot o'er the Tuileries early, +Strike Luxor's cold gray spire, +And wild in the light of the morning +With their marble manes on fire, +Ramp the white Horses of Marly. + +But the Place of Concord lies +Dead hushed 'neath the ashy skies. +And the Cities sit in council +With sleep in their wide stone eyes. +I see the mystic plain +Where the army of spectres slain +In the Emperor's life-long war +March on with unsounding tread +To trumpets whose voice is dead. +Their spectral chief still leads them,-- +The ghostly flash of his sword +Like a comet through mist shines far,-- +And the noiseless host is poured, +For the gendarme never heeds them, +Up the long dim road where thundered +The army of Italy onward +Through the great pale Arch of the Star! + +The spectre army fades +Far up the glimmering hill, +But, vaguely lingering still, +A group of shuddering shades +Infects the pallid air, +Growing dimmer as day invades +The hush of the dusky square. +There is one that seems a King, +As if the ghost of a Crown +Still shadowed his jail-bleached hair; +I can hear the guillotine ring, +As its regicide note rang there, +When he laid his tired life down +And grew brave in his last despair. +And a woman frail and fair +Who weeps at leaving a world +Of love and revel and sin +In the vast Unknown to be hurled; +(For life was wicked and sweet +With kings at her small white feet!) +And one, every inch a Queen, +In life and in death a Queen, +Whose blood baptized the place, +In the days of madness and fear,-- +Her shade has never a peer +In majesty and grace. + +Murdered and murderers swarm; +Slayers that slew and were slain, +Till the drenched place smoked with the rain +That poured in a torrent warm,-- +Till red as the Rider's of Edom +Were splashed the white garments of Freedom +With the wash of the horrible storm! + +And Liberty's hands were not clean +In the day of her pride unchained, +Her royal hands were stained +With the life of a King and Queen; +And darker than that with the blood +Of the nameless brave and good +Whose blood in witness clings +More damning than Queens' and Kings'. + +Has she not paid it dearly? +Chained, watching her chosen nation +Grinding late and early +In the mills of usurpation? +Have not her holy tears +Flowing through shameful years, +Washed the stains from her tortured hands? +We thought so when God's fresh breeze, +Blowing over the sleeping lands, +In 'Forty-Eight waked the world, +And the Burgher-King was hurled +From that palace behind the trees. + +As Freedom with eyes aglow +Smiled glad through her childbirth pain, +How was the mother to know +That her woe and travail were vain? +A smirking servant smiled +When she gave him her child to keep; +Did she know he would strangle the child +As it lay in his arms asleep? + +Liberty's cruellest shame! +She is stunned and speechless yet +In her grief and bloody sweat +Shall we make her trust her blame? +The treasure of 'Forty-Eight +A lurking jail-bird stole, +She can but watch and wait +As the swift sure seasons roll. + +And when in God's good hour +Comes the time of the brave and true, +Freedom again shall rise +With a blaze in her awful eyes +That shall wither this robber-power +As the sun now dries the dew. +This Place shall roar with the voice +Of the glad triumphant people, +And the heavens be gay with the chimes +Ringing with jubilant noise +From every clamorous steeple +The coming of better times. +And the dawn of Freedom waking +Shall fling its splendors far +Like the day which now is breaking +On the great pale Arch of the Star, +And back o'er the town shall fly, +While the joy-bells wild are ringing, +To crown the Glory springing +From the Column of July! + + + +The Sphinx of the Tuileries + + +Out of the Latin Quarter + I came to the lofty door +Where the two marble Sphinxes guard + The Pavilion de Flore. +Two Cockneys stood by the gate, and one + Observed, as they turned to go, +"No wonder He likes that sort of thing,-- + He's a Sphinx himself, you know." + +I thought as I walked where the garden glowed + In the sunset's level fire, +Of the Charlatan whom the Frenchmen loathe + And the Cockneys all admire. +They call him a Sphinx,--it pleases him,-- + And if we narrowly read, +We will find some truth in the flunkey's praise, + The man is a Sphinx indeed. + +For the Sphinx with breast of woman + And face so debonair +Had the sleek false paws of a lion, + That could furtively seize and tear. +So far to the shoulders,--but if you took + The Beast in reverse you would find +The ignoble form of a craven cur + Was all that lay behind. + +She lived by giving to simple folk + A silly riddle to read, +And when they failed she drank their blood + In cruel and ravenous greed. +But at last came one who knew her word, + And she perished in pain and shame,-- +This bastard Sphinx leads the same base life + And his end will be the same. + +For an Oedipus-People is coming fast + With swelled feet limping on, +If they shout his true name once aloud + His false foul power is gone. +Afraid to fight and afraid to fly, + He cowers in an abject shiver; +The people will come to their own at last,-- + God is not mocked forever. + + + +The Surrender of Spain + + +I. + +Land of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campeador! +Sea-girdled mother of men! Spain, name of glory and power; +Cradle of world-grasping Emperors, grave of the reckless invader, +How art thou fallen, my Spain! how art thou sunk at this hour! + + +II. + +Once thy magnanimous sons trod, victors, the portals of Asia, +Once the Pacific waves rushed, joyful thy banners to see; +For it was Trajan that carried the battle-flushed eagles to Dacia, +Cortés that planted thy flag fast by the uttermost sea. + +III. + +Has thou forgotten those days illumined with glory and honor, +When the far isles of the sea thrilled to the tread of Castile? +When every land under Heaven was flecked by the shade of thy banner,-- +When every beam of the sun flashed on thy conquering steel? + +IV. + +Then through red fields of slaughter, through death and defeat and disaster, +Still flared thy banner aloft, tattered, but free from a stain, +Now to the upstart Savoyard thou bendest to beg for a master! +How the red flush of her shame mars the proud beauty of Spain! + + +V. + +Has the red blood run cold that boiled by the Xenil and Darro? +Are the high deeds of the sires sung to the children no more? +On the dun hills of the North hast thou heard of no plough-boy Pizarro? +Roams no young swine-herd Cortés hid by the Tagus' wild shore? + + +VI. + +Once again does Hispania bend low to the yoke of the stranger! +Once again will she rise, flinging her gyves in the sea! +Princeling of Piedmont! unwitting thou weddest with doubt and with danger, +King over men who have learned all that it costs to be free. + + + +The Prayer of The Romans + + +Not done, but near its ending, + Is the work that our eyes desired; +Not yet fulfilled, but near the goal, + Is the hope that our worn hearts fired. +And on the Alban Mountains, + Where the blushes of dawn increase, +We see the flash of the beautiful feet + Of Freedom and of Peace! + +How long were our fond dreams baffled!-- + Novara's sad mischance, +The Kaiser's sword and fetter-lock, + And the traitor stab of France; +Till at last came glorious Venice, + In storm and tempest home; +And now God maddens the greedy kings, + And gives to her people Rome. + +Lame Lion of Caprera! + Red-shirts of the lost campaigns! +Not idly shed was the costly blood + You poured from generous veins. +For the shame of Aspromonte, + And the stain of Mentana's sod, +But forged the curse of kings that sprang + From your breaking hearts to God! + +We lift our souls to thee, O Lord + Of Liberty and of Light! +Let not earth's kings pollute the work + That was done in their despite; +Let not thy light be darkened + In the shade of a sordid crown, +Nor pampered swine devour the fruit + Thou shook'st with an earthquake down! + +Let the People come to their birthright, + And crosier and crown pass away +Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes + At the glance of the clean, white day. +And then from the lava of Aetna + To the ice of the Alps let there be +One freedom, one faith without fetters, + One republic in Italy free! + + + +The Curse of Hungary + + +Saloman looked from his donjon bars, +Where the Danube clamors through sedge and sand, +And he cursed with a curse his revolting land,-- +With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. + +He said: "May this false land know no truth! +May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, +And a greed of glory but live to nourish +Envy and hate in its restless youth. + +"In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust, +While the sword grows bright with its fatal labor, +And blackens between each man and neighbor-- +The perilous cloud of a vague distrust! + +"Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, +And each to the other as unknown things, +That with links of hatred and pride the kings +May forge firm fetters through each for all! + +"May a king wrong them as they wronged their king! +May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, +Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, +And to women and monks their birthright fling!" + +The mad king died; but the rushing river +Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, +And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands +That the curse of King Saloman works forever. + +For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers +Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts +That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts,-- +A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears! + +And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, +Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, +As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown +And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. + +And latest they saw in the summer glare +The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, +To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, +A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. + +But ever the same sad play they saw, +The same weak worship of sword and crown, +The noble crushing the humble down, +And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law. + +The donjon stands by the turbid river, +But Time is crumbling its battered towers; +And the slow light withers a despot's powers, +And a mad king's curse is not forever! + + + +The Monks of Basle + + +I tore this weed from the rank, dark soil + Where it grew in the monkish time, +I trimmed it close and set it again + In a border of modern rhyme. + + +I. + +Long years ago, when the Devil was loose + And faith was sorely tried, +Three monks of Basle went out to walk + In the quiet eventide. + +A breeze as pure as the breath of Heaven + Blew fresh through the cloister-shades, +A sky as glad as the smile of Heaven + Blushed rose o'er the minster-glades. + +But scorning the lures of summer and sense, + The monks passed on in their walk; +Their eyes were abased, their senses slept, + Their souls were in their talk. + +In the tough grim talk of the monkish days + They hammered and slashed about,-- +Dry husks of logic,--old scraps of creed,-- + And the cold gray dreams of doubt,-- + +And whether Just or Justified + Was the Church's mystic Head,-- +And whether the Bread was changed to God, + Or God became the Bread + +But of human hearts outside their walls + They never paused to dream, +And they never thought of the love of God + That smiled in the twilight gleam. + +II. + +As these three monks went bickering on + By the foot of a spreading tree, +Out from its heart of verdurous gloom + A song burst wild and free,-- + +A wordless carol of life and love, + Of nature free and wild; +And the three monks paused in the evening shade + Looked up at each other and smiled. + +And tender and gay the bird sang on, + And cooed and whistled and trilled, +And the wasteful wealth of life and love + From his happy heart was spilled. + +The song had power on the grim old monks + In the light of the rosy skies; +And as they listened the years rolled back, + And tears came into their eyes. + +The years rolled back and they were young, + With the hearts and hopes of men, +They plucked the daisies and kissed the girls + Of dear dead summers again. + + +III. + +But the eldest monk soon broke the spell; + "'Tis sin and shame," quoth he, +"To be turned from talk of holy things + By a bird's cry from a tree. + +"Perchance the Enemy of Souls + Hath come to tempt us so. +Let us try by the power of the Awful Word + If it be he, or no!" + +To Heaven the three monks raised their hands + "We charge thee, speak!" they said, +"By His dread Name who shall one day come + To judge the quick and the dead,-- + +"Who art thou? Speak!" The bird laughed loud + "I am the Devil," he said. +The monks on their faces fell, the bird + Away through the twilight sped. + +A horror fell on those holy men, + (The faithful legends say,) +And one by one from the face of earth + They pined and vanished away. + + +IV. + +So goes the tale of the monkish books, + The moral who runs may read,-- +He has no ears for Nature's voice + Whose soul is the slave of creed. + +Not all in vain with beauty and love + Has God the world adorned; +And he who Nature scorns and mocks, + By Nature is mocked and scorned. + + + +The Enchanted Shirt + + + Fytte the First: _wherein it shall be shown how the Truth is too mighty + a Drug for such as he of feeble temper_. + + +The King was sick. His cheek was red + And his eye was clear and bright; +He ate and drank with a kingly zest, + And peacefully snored at night. + +But he said he was sick, and a king should know, + And doctors came by the score. +They did not cure him. He cut off their heads + And sent to the schools for more. + +At last two famous doctors came, + And one was as poor as a rat, +He had passed his life in studious toil, + And never found time to grow fat. + +The other had never looked in a book; + His patients gave him no trouble, +If they recovered they paid him well, + If they died their heirs paid double. + +Together they looked at the royal tongue, + As the King on his couch reclined; +In succession they thumped his august chest, + But no trace of disease could find. + +The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." + "Hang him up," roared the King in a gale,-- +In a ten-knot gale of royal rage; + The other leech grew a shade pale; + +But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, + And thus his prescription ran,-- +_King will be well, if he sleeps one night + In the Shirt of a Happy Man_. + + + Fytte the Second: _tells of the search for the Shirt and how it was nigh + found but was not, for reasons which are said or sung_. + +Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, + And fast their horses ran, +And many they saw, and to many they spoke, + But they found no Happy Man. + +They found poor men who would fain be rich, + And rich who thought they were poor; +And men who twisted their waists in stays, + And women that shorthose wore. + +They saw two men by the roadside sit, + And both bemoaned their lot; +For one had buried his wife, he said, + And the other one had not. + +At last as they came to a village gate, + A beggar lay whistling there; +He whistled and sang and laughed and rolled + On the grass in the soft June air. + +The weary couriers paused and looked + At the scamp so blithe and gay; +And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend! + You seem to be happy to-day." + +"O yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed + And his voice rang free and glad, +"An idle man has so much to do + That he never has time to be sad." + +"This is our man," the courier said; + "Our luck has led us aright. +"I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, + For the loan of your shirt to-night." + +The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, + And laughed till his face was black; +"I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun, + "But I haven't a shirt to my back." + + + Fytte the Third: _shewing how His Majesty the King came at last to sleep + in a Happy Man his Shirt_. + +Each day to the King the reports came in + Of his unsuccessful spies, +And the sad panorama of human woes + Passed daily under his eyes. + +And he grew ashamed of his useless life, + And his maladies hatched in gloom; +He opened his windows and let the air + Of the free heaven into his room. + +And out he went in the world and toiled + In his own appointed way; +And the people blessed him, the land was glad, + And the King was well and gay. + + + +A Woman's Love + + +A sentinel angel sitting high in glory +Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: +"Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! + +"I loved,--and, blind with passionate love, I fell. +Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. +For God is just, and death for sin is well. + +"I do not rage against his high decree, +Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be; +But for my love on earth who mourns for me. + +"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again; +And comfort him one hour, and I were fain +To pay a thousand years of fire and pain." + +Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent +That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent +Down to the last hour of thy punishment!" + +But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go! +I cannot rise to peace and leave him so. +O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!" + +The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, +And upward, joyous, like a rising star, +She rose and vanished in the ether far. + +But soon adown the dying sunset sailing, +And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing, +She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing. + +She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea +Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,-- +She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!" + +She wept, "Now let my punishment begin! +I have been fond and foolish. Let me in +To expiate my sorrow and my sin." + +The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher! +To be deceived in your true heart's desire +Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!" + + + +On Pitz Languard + + +I stood on the top of Pitz Languard, + And heard three voices whispering low, +Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward + Made swift dark shadows upon the snow. + + +_First voice_. + +I loved a girl with truth and pain, + She loved me not. When she said good by +She gave me a kiss to sting and stain + My broken life to a rosy dye. + + +_Second voice_. + +I loved a woman with love well tried,-- + And I swear I believe she loves me still. +But it was not I who stood by her side + When she answered the priest and said "I will." + + +_Third voice._ + +I loved two girls, one fond, one shy, + And I never divined which one loved me. +One married, and now, though I can't tell why. + Of the four in the story I count but three. + + +The three weird voices whispered low + Where the eagles swept in their circling ward; +But only one shadow scarred the snow + As I clambered down from Pitz Languard. + + + +Boudoir Prophecies + + +One day in the Tuileries, + When a southwest Spanish breeze + Brought scandalous news of the Queen, +The fair proud Empress said, +"My good friend loses her head; + If matters go on this way, + I shall see her shopping, some day, + In the Boulevard des Capucines." + +The saying swiftly went +To the Place of the Orient, + And the stout Queen sneered, "Ah, well! + You are proud and prude, ma belle! +But I think I will hazard a guess +I shall see you one day playing chess + With the Curé of Carabanchel." + +Both ladies, though not over-wise, +Were lucky in prophecies. + For the Boulevard shopmen well + Know the form of stout Isabel + As she buys her modes de Paris; +And after Sedan in despair +The Empress prude and fair +Went to visit Madame sa Mère + In her villa at Carabanchel-- + But the Queen was not there to see. + + + +A Triumph of Order + + +A Squad of regular infantry + In the Commune's closing days, +Had captured a crowd of rebels + By the wall of Père-la-Chaise. + +There were desperate men, wild women, + And dark-eyed Amazon girls, +And one little boy, with a peach-down cheek + And yellow clustering curls. + +The captain seized the little waif, + And said, "What dost thou here?" +"Sapristi, Citizen captain! + I'm a Communist, my dear!" + +"Very well! Then you die with the others!" + --"Very well! That's my affair; +But first let me take to my mother, + Who lives by the wine-shop there, + +"My father's watch. You see it; + A gay old thing, is it not? +It would please the old lady to have it, + Then I'll come back here, and be shot. + +"That is the last we shall see of him," + The grizzled captain grinned, +As the little man skimmed down the hill, + Like a swallow down the wind. + +For the joy of killing had lost its zest + In the glut of those awful days, +And Death writhed, gorged like a greedy snake, + From the Arch to Père-la-Chaise. + +But before the last platoon had fired, + The child's shrill voice was heard; +"Houp-là ! the old girl made such a row + I feared I should break my word." + +Against the bullet-pitted wall + He took his place with the rest, +A button was lost from his ragged blouse, + Which showed his soft white breast. + +"Now blaze away, my children! + With your little one-two-three!" +The Chassepots tore the stout young heart, + And saved Society. + + + +Ernst of Edelsheim + + +I'll tell the story, kissing + This white hand for my pains: +No sweeter heart, nor falser + E'er filled such fine, blue veins. + +I'll sing a song of true love, + My Lilith dear! to you; +_Contraria contrariis_-- + The rule is old and true. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim; +And why he was the happiest, + I'll tell you in my rhyme. + +One summer night he wandered + Within a lonely glade, +And, couched in moss and moonlight, + He found a sleeping maid. + +The stars of midnight sifted + Above her sands of gold; +She seemed a slumbering statue, + So fair and white and cold. + +Fair and white and cold she lay + Beneath the starry skies; +Rosy was her waking + Beneath the Ritter's eyes. + +He won her drowsy fancy, + He bore her to his towers, +And swift with love and laughter + Flew morning's purpled hours. + +But when the thickening sunbeams + Had drunk the gleaming dew, +A misty cloud of sorrow + Swept o'er her eyes' deep blue. + +She hung upon the Ritter's neck, +S he wept with love and pain, +She showered her sweet, warm kisses + Like fragrant summer rain. + +"I am no Christian soul," she sobbed, + As in his arms she lay; +"I'm half the day a woman, + A serpent half the day. + +"And when from yonder bell-tower + Rings out the noonday chime, +Farewell! farewell forever, + Sir Ernst of Edelsheim!" + +"Ah! not farewell forever!" + The Ritter wildly cried, +"I will be saved or lost with thee, + My lovely Wili-Bride!" + +Loud from the lordly bell-tower + Rang out the noon of day, +And from the bower of roses + A serpent slid away. + +But when the mid-watch moonlight + Was shimmering through the grove, +He clasped his bride thrice dowered + With beauty and with love. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim-- +His true love was a serpent + Only half the time! + + + +My Castle in Spain + + +There was never a castle seen + So fair as mine in Spain: +It stands embowered in green, + Crowning the gentle slope +Of a hill by the Xenil's shore, +And at eve its shade flaunts o'er + The storied Vega plain, +And its towers are hid in the mists of Hope; + And I toil through years of pain + Its glimmering gates to gain. + +In visions wild and sweet +Sometimes its courts I greet: + Sometimes in joy its shining halls +I tread with favored feet; +But never my eyes in the light of day + Were blest with its ivied walls, +Where the marble white and the granite gray +Turn gold alike when the sunbeams play, + When the soft day dimly falls. + +I know in its dusky rooms + Are treasures rich and rare; +The spoil of Eastern looms, + And whatever of bright and fair +Painters divine have caught and won + From the vault of Italy's air: +White gods in Phidian stone + People the haunted glooms; +And the song of immortal singers +Like a fragrant memory lingers, + I know, in the echoing rooms. + +But nothing of these, my soul! + Nor castle, nor treasures, nor skies, +Nor the waves of the river that roll + With a cadence faint and sweet + In peace by its marble feet-- +Nothing of these is the goal + For which my whole heart sighs. +'Tis the pearl gives worth to the shell-- + The pearl I would die to gain; +For there does my lady dwell, +My love that I love so well-- + The Queen whose gracious reign + Makes glad my Castle in Spain. + +Her face so pure and fair + Sheds light in the shady places, +And the spell of her girlish graces + Holds charmed the happy air. +A breath of purity + Forever before her flies, +And ill things cease to be + In the glance of her honest eyes. +Around her pathway flutter, + Where her dear feet wander free + In youth's pure majesty, + The wings of the vague desires; +But the thought that love would utter + In reverence expires. + +Not yet! not yet shall I see + That face which shines like a star + O'er my storm-swept life afar, +Transfigured with love for me. +Toiling, forgetting, and learning +With labor and vigils and prayers, + Pure heart and resolute will, + At last I shall climb the hill +And breathe the enchanted airs +Where the light of my life is burning + Most lovely and fair and free, +Where alone in her youth and beauty, +And bound by her fate's sweet duty, + Unconscious she waits for me. + + + +Sister Saint Luke + + +She lived shut in by flowers and trees + And shade of gentle bigotries. +On this side lay the trackless sea, +On that the great world's mystery; +But all unseen and all unguessed +They could not break upon her rest. +The world's far splendors gleamed and flashed, +Afar the wild seas foamed and dashed; +But in her small, dull Paradise, +Safe housed from rapture or surprise, +Nor day nor night had power to fright +The peace of God that filled her eyes. + + + + +New and Old. + + + +Miles Keogh's Horse + + +On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn, + At the close of a woful day, +Custer and his Three Hundred + In death and silence lay. + +Three Hundred to three Thousand! + They had bravely fought and bled; +For such is the will of Congress + When the White man meets the Red. + +The White men are ten millions, + The thriftiest under the sun; +The Reds are fifty thousand, + And warriors every one. + +So Custer and all his fighting men + Lay under the evening skies, +Staring up at the tranquil heaven + With wide, accusing eyes. + +And of all that stood at noonday + In that fiery scorpion ring, +Miles Keogh's horse at evening + Was the only living thing. + +Alone from that field of slaughter, + Where lay the three hundred slain, +The horse Comanche wandered, + With Keogh's blood on his mane. + +And Sturgis issued this order, + Which future times shall read, +While the love and honor of comrades + Are the soul of the soldier's creed. + +He said-- + _Let the horse Comanche + Henceforth till he shall die, +Be kindly cherished and cared for + By the Seventh Cavalry + +He shall do no labor; he never shall know + The touch of spur or rein; +Nor shall his back be ever crossed + By living rider again + +And at regimental formation + Of the Seventh Cavalry_, +_Comanche draped in mourning and led + By a trooper of Company + +Shall parade with the Regiment!_ + + Thus it was + Commanded and thus done, +By order of General Sturgis, signed + By Adjutant Garlington. + +Even as the sword of Custer, + In his disastrous fall, +Flashed out a blaze that charmed the world + And glorified his pall, + +This order, issued amid the gloom + That shrouds our army's name, +When all foul beasts are free to rend + And tear its honest fame, + +Shall prove to a callous people + That the sense of a soldier's worth, +That the love of comrades, the honor of arms, + Have not yet perished from earth. + + + +The Advance Guard + + +In the dream of the Northern poets, + The brave who in battle die +Fight on in shadowy phalanx + In the field of the upper sky; +And as we read the sounding rhyme, + The reverent fancy hears +The ghostly ring of the viewless swords + And the clash of the spectral spears. + +We think with imperious questionings + Of the brothers whom we have lost, +And we strive to track in death's mystery + The flight of each valiant ghost. +The Northern myth comes back to us, + And we feel, through our sorrow's night, +That those young souls are striving still + Somewhere for the truth and light. + +It was not their time for rest and sleep; + Their hearts beat high and strong; +In their fresh veins the blood of youth + Was singing its hot, sweet song. +The open heaven bent over them, + Mid flowers their lithe feet trod, +Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest + By the smiles of women and God. + +Again they come! Again I hear + The tread of that goodly band; +I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye + And the grasp of his hard, warm hand; +And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart, + And an eye like a Boston girl's; +And I see the light of heaven which lay + On Ulric Dahlgren's curls. + +There is no power in the gloom of hell + To quench those spirits' fire; +There is no power in the bliss of heaven + To bid them not aspire; +But somewhere in the eternal plan + That strength, that life survive, +And like the files on Lookout's crest, + Above death's clouds they strive. + +A chosen corps, they are marching on + In a wider field than ours; +Those bright battalions still fulfill + The scheme of the heavenly powers; +And high brave thoughts float down to us, + The echoes of that far fight, +Like the flash of a distant picket's gun + Through the shades of the severing night. + +No fear for them! In our lower field + Let us keep our arms unstained, +That at last we be worthy to stand with them + On the shining heights they've gained. +We shall meet and greet in closing ranks + In Time's declining sun, +When the bugles of God shall sound recall + And the battle of life be won. + + + +Love's Prayer + + +If Heaven would hear my prayer, + My dearest wish would be, +Thy sorrows not to share + But take them all on me; +If Heaven would hear my prayer. + +I'd beg with prayers and sighs + That never a tear might flow +From out thy lovely eyes, + If Heaven might grant it so; +Mine be the tears and sighs. + +No cloud thy brow should cover, + But smiles each other chase +From lips to eyes all over + Thy sweet and sunny face; +The clouds my heart should cover. + +That all thy path be light + Let darkness fall on me; +If all thy days be bright, + Mine black as night could be; +My love would light my night. + +For thou art more than life, + And if our fate should set +Life and my love at strife, + How could I then forget +I love thee more than life? + + + +Christine + + +The beauty of the northern dawns, + Their pure, pale light is thine; +Yet all the dreams of tropic nights + Within thy blue eyes shine. +Not statelier in their prisoning seas + The icebergs grandly move, +But in thy smile is youth and joy, + And in thy voice is love. + +Thou art like Hecla's crest that stands + So lonely, proud, and high, +No earthly thing may come between + Her summit and the sky. +The sun in vain may strive to melt + Her crown of virgin snow-- +But the great heart of the mountain glows + With deathless fire below. + + + +Expectation + + +Roll on, O shining sun, + To the far seas, +Bring down, ye shades of eve, + The soft, salt breeze! +Shine out, O stars, and light +My darling's pathway bright, +As through the summer night + She comes to me. + +No beam of any star + Can match her eyes; +Her smile the bursting day + In light outvies. +Her voice--the sweetest thing +Heard by the raptured spring +When waking wild-woods ring-- + She comes to me. + +Ye stars, more swiftly wheel, + O'er earth's still breast; +More wildly plunge and reel + In the dim west! +The earth is lone and lorn, +Till the glad day be born, +Till with the happy morn + She comes to me. + + + +To Flora + + +When April woke the drowsy flowers, + And vagrant odors thronged the breeze, +And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, + And daisies flashed along the leas, +And faint arbutus strove among + Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise, +And nature's sweetly jubilant song + Went murmuring up the sunny skies, +Into this cheerful world you came, +And gained by right your vernal name. + +I think the springs have changed of late, + For "Arctics" are my daily wear, +The skies are turned to cold gray slate, + And zephyrs are but draughts of air; +But you make up whatever we lack, + When we, too rarely, come together, +More potent than the almanac, + You bring the ideal April weather; +When you are with us we defy +The blustering air, the lowering sky; +In spite of Winter's icy darts, +We've spring and sunshine in our hearts. + +In fine, upon this April day, + This deep conundrum I will bring: +Tell me the two good reasons, pray, + I have, to say you are like spring? + +[You give it up?] Because we love you-- + And see so very little of you. + + + +A Haunted Room + + +In the dim chamber whence but yesterday + Passed my belovèd, filled with awe I stand; + And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand +Whisper her praises who is far away. +A thousand delicate fancies glance and play + On every object which her robes have fanned, + And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand +In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray. +Ah! could that glass but hold the faintest trace + Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, + The clustering glory of the shadowy hair +That framed so well the dear young angel face! + But no, it shows my own face, full of care, +And my heart is her beauty's dwelling-place. + + + +Dreams + + +I love a woman tenderly, +But cannot know if she loves me. +I press her hand, her lips I kiss, +But still love's full assurance miss, +Our waking life forever seems +Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams. + +But love and night and sleep combine +In dreams to make her wholly mine. +A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, +Her hands and lips are warm and true. +Always the fact unreal seems, +And truth I find alone in dreams. + + + +The Light of Love + + +Each shining light above us + Has its own peculiar grace; +But every light of heaven + Is in my darling's face. + +For it is like the sunlight, + So strong and pure and warm, +That folds all good and happy things, + And guards from gloom and harm. + +And it is like the moonlight, + So holy and so calm; +The rapt peace of a summer night, + When soft winds die in balm. + +And it is like the starlight; + For, love her as I may, +She dwells still lofty and serene + In mystery far away. + + + +Quand-Même + + +I strove, like Israel, with my youth, + And said, Till thou bestow +Upon my life Love's joy and truth, + I will not let thee go. + +And sudden on my night there woke + The trouble of the dawn; +Out of the east the red light broke, + To broaden on and on. + +And now let death be far or nigh, + Let fortune gloom or shine, +I cannot all untimely die, + For love, for love is mine. + +My days are tuned to finer chords, + And lit by higher suns;, +Through all my thoughts and all my words + A purer purpose runs. + +The blank page of my heart grows rife + With wealth of tender lore; +Her image, stamped upon my life, + Gives value evermore. + +She is so noble, firm, and true, + I drink truth from her eyes, +As violets gain the heaven's own blue + In gazing at the skies. + +No matter if my hands attain + The golden crown or cross +Only to love is such a gain + That losing is not loss. + +And thus whatever fate betide + Of rapture or of pain, +If storm or sun the future hide, + My love is not in vain. + +So only thanks are on my lips; + And through my love I see +My earliest dreams, like freighted ships, + Come sailing home to me. + + + +Words + + +When violets were springing + And sunshine filled the day, +And happy birds were singing + The praises of the May, +A word came to me, blighting + The beauty of the scene, +And in my heart was winter, + Though all the trees were green. + +Now down the blast go sailing + The dead leaves, brown and sere; +The forests are bewailing + The dying of the year; +A word comes to me, lighting + With rapture all the air, +And in my heart is summer, + Though all the trees are bare. + + + +The Stirrup Cup + + +My short and happy day is done, +The long and dreary night comes on; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To carry me to unknown lands. + +His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof, +Sound dreadful as a gathering storm; +And I must leave this sheltering roof, +And joys of life so soft and warm. + +Tender and warm the joys of life,-- +Good friends, the faithful and the true; +My rosy children and my wife, +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view. + +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view,-- +The night comes down, the lights burn blue; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To bear me forth to unknown lands. + + + +A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + + +[C.K. _loquitur_.] + +I dreamed I was in fair Niphon. +Amid tea-fields I journeyed on, +Reclined in my jinrikishaw; +Across the rolling plains I saw +The lordly Fusi-yama rise, +His blue cone lost in bluer skies. + +At last I bade my bearers stop +Before what seemed a china-shop. +I roused myself and entered in. +A fearful joy, like some sweet sin, +Pierced through my bosom as I gazed, +Entranced, transported, and amazed. + +For all the house was but one room, +And in its clear and grateful gloom, +Filled with all odors strange and strong +That to the wondrous East belong, +I saw above, around, below, +A sight to make the warm heart glow, +And leave the eager soul no lack, +An endless wealth of bric-a-brac. + +I saw bronze statues, old and rare, +Fashioned by no mere mortal skill, +With robes that fluttered in the air, +Blown out by Art's eternal will; +And delicate ivory netsukes, +Richer in tone than Cheddar cheese, +Of saints and hermits, cats and dogs, +Grim warriors and ecstatic frogs. + +And here and there those wondrous masks, +More living flesh than sandal-wood, +Where the full soul in pleasure basks +And dreams of love, the only good. +The walls were all with pictures hung: +Gay villas bright in rain-washed air, +Trees to whose boughs brown monkeys clung, +Outlineless dabs of fuzzy hair. +And all about the opulent shelves +Littered with porcelain beyond price: +Imari pots arrayed themselves +Beside Ming dishes; grain-of-rice +Vied with the Royal Satsuma, +Proud of its sallow ivory beam; +And Kaga's Thousand Hermits lay +Tranced in some punch-bowl's golden gleam. +Over bronze censers, black with age, +The five-clawed dragons strife engage; +A curled and insolent Dog of Foo +Sniffs at the smoke aspiring through. + +In what old days, in what far lands, +What busy brains, what cunning hands, +With what quaint speech, what alien thought, +Strange fellow-men these marvels wrought! + +As thus I mused, I was aware +There grew before my eager eyes +A little maid too bright and fair, +Too strangely lovely for surprise. +It seemed the beauty of the place +Had suddenly become concrete, +So full was she of Orient grace, +From her slant eyes and burnished face +Down to her little gold-bronze feet. + +She was a girl of old Japan; +Her small hand held a gilded fan, +Which scattered fragrance through the room; +Her cheek was rich with pallid bloom, +Her eye was dark with languid fire, +Her red lips breathed a vague desire; +Her teeth, of pearl inviolate, +Sweetly proclaimed her maiden state. +Her garb was stiff with broidered gold +Twined with mysterious fold on fold, +That gave no hint where, hidden well, +Her dainty form might warmly dwell,-- +A pearl within too large a shell. +So quaint, so short, so lissome, she, +It seemed as if it well might be +Some jocose god, with sportive whirl, +Had taken up a long lithe girl +And tied a graceful knot in her. +I tried to speak, and found, oh, bliss! +I needed no interpreter; +I knew the Japanese for kiss,-- +I had no other thought but this; +And she, with smile and blush divine, +Kind to my stammering prayer did seem; +My thought was hers, and hers was mine, +In the swift logic of my dream. +My arms clung round her slender waist, +Through gold and silk the form I traced, +And glad as rain that follows drouth, +I kissed and kissed her bright red mouth. + +What ailed the girl? No loving sigh +Heaved the round bosom; in her eye +Trembled no tear; from her dear throat +Bubbled a sweet and silvery note +Of girlish laughter, shrill and clear, +That all the statues seemed to hear. +The bronzes tinkled laughter fine; +I heard a chuckle argentine +Ring from the silver images; +Even the ivory netsukes +Uttered in every silent pause +Dry, bony laughs from tiny jaws; +The painted monkeys on the wall +Waked up with chatter impudent; +Pottery, porcelain, bronze, and all +Broke out in ghostly merriment,-- +Faint as rain pattering on dry leaves, +Or cricket's chirp on summer eves. + +And suddenly upon my sight +There grew a portent: left and right, +On every side, as if the air +Had taken substance then and there, +In every sort of form and face, +A throng of tourists filled the place. +I saw a Frenchman's sneering shrug; +A German countess, in one hand +A sky-blue string which held a pug, +With the other a fiery face she fanned; +A Yankee with a soft felt hat; +A Coptic priest from Ararat; +An English girl with cheeks of rose; +A Nihilist with Socratic nose; +Paddy from Cork with baggage light +And pockets stuffed with dynamite; +A haughty Southern Readjuster +Wrapped in his pride and linen duster; +Two noisy New York stock-brokèrs +And twenty British globe-trottèrs. +To my disgust and vast surprise +They turned on me lack-lustre eyes, +And each with dropped and wagging jaw +Burst out into a wild guffaw: +They laughed with huge mouths opened wide; +They roared till each one held his side; +They screamed and writhed with brutal glee, +With fingers rudely stretched to me,-- +Till lo! at once the laughter died, +The tourists faded into air; +None but my fair maid lingered there, +Who stood demurely by my side. +"Who were your friends?" I asked the maid, +Taking a tea-cup from its shelf. +"This audience is disclosed," she said, +"Whenever a man makes a fool of himself." + + + +Liberty + + +What man is there so bold that he should say +"Thus, and thus only, would I have the sea"? +For whether lying calm and beautiful, +Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back +The smile of heaven from waves of amethyst; +Or whether, freshened by the busy winds, +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 rocky barriers, in wild lust +Of ruin drinks the blood of living things, +And strews its wrecks o'er leagues of desolate shore,-- +Always it is the sea, and men bow down +Before its vast and varied majesty. + +So all in vain will timorous ones essay +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 fulfills the unerring Will. +Let us not then despise it when it lies +Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm +Of gnat-like evils hover round its head; +Nor doubt it when in 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 +Rings down its grooves the knell of shuddering kings. +Forever in thine eyes, O Liberty, +Shines that high light whereby the world is saved, +And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee! + + + +The White Flag + + +I sent my love two roses,--one + As white as driven snow, +And one a blushing royal red, + A flaming Jacqueminot. + +I meant to touch and test my fate; + That night I should divine, +The moment I should see my love, + If her true heart were mine. + +For if she holds me dear, I said, + She'll wear my blushing rose; +If not, she'll wear my cold Lamarque, + As white as winter's snows. + +My heart sank when I met her: sure + I had been overbold, +For on her breast my pale rose lay + In virgin whiteness cold. + +Yet with low words she greeted me, + With smiles divinely tender; +Upon her cheek the red rose dawned,-- + The white rose meant surrender. + + + +The Law of Death + + +The song of Kilvani: fairest she +In all the land of Savatthi. +She had one child, as sweet and gay +And dear to her as the light of day. +She was so young, and he so fair, +The same bright eyes and the same dark hair; +To see them by the blossomy way, +They seemed two children at their play. + +There came a death-dart from the sky, +Kilvani saw her darling die. +The glimmering shade his eyes invades, +Out of his cheek the red bloom fades; +His warm heart feels the icy chill, +The round limbs shudder, and are still +And yet Kilvani held him fast +Long after life's last pulse was past, +As if her kisses could restore +The smile gone out forevermore. + +But when she saw her child was dead, +She scattered ashes on her head, +And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, +And rushing wildly through the street, +She sobbing fell at Buddha's feet. + +"Master, all-helpful, help me now! +Here at thy feet I humbly bow; +Have mercy, Buddha, help me now!" +She groveled on the marble floor, +And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er. +And suddenly upon the air +There fell the answer to her prayer: +"Bring me to-night a lotus tied +With thread from a house where none has died." + +She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, +Sure that the god would save the boy. +She found a lotus by the stream; +She plucked it from its noonday dream. +And then from door to door she fared, +To ask what house by Death was spared. +Her heart grew cold to see the eyes +Of all dilate with slow surprise: +"Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; +Nothing can help a child that's dead. +There stands not by the Ganges' side +A house where none hath ever died." +Thus, through the long and weary day, +From every door she bore away +Within her heart, and on her arm, +A heavier load, a deeper harm. +By gates of gold and ivory, +By wattled huts of poverty, +The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, +_The living are few, the dead are many._ + +The evening came--so still and fleet-- +And overtook her hurrying feet. +And, heartsick, by the sacred fane +She fell, and prayed the god again. +She sobbed and beat her bursting breast +"Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest! +Lo! I have wandered far and wide; +There stands no house where none hath died." +And Buddha answered, in a tone +Soft as a flute at twilight blown, +But grand as heaven and strong as death +To him who hears with ears of faith: +"Child, thou art answered. Murmur not! +Bow, and accept the common lot." + +Kilvani heard with reverence meet, +And laid her child at Buddha's feet. + + + +Mount Tabor + + +On Tabor's height a glory came, +And, shrined in clouds of lambent flame, +The awestruck, hushed disciples saw +Christ and the prophets of the law. +Moses, whose grand and awful face +Of Sinai's thunder bore the trace, +And wise Elias,--in his eyes +The shade of Israel's prophecies,-- +Stood in that wide, mysterious light, +Than Syrian noons more purely bright, +One on each hand, and high between +Shone forth the godlike Nazarene. + +They bowed their heads in holy fright,-- +No mortal eyes could bear the sight,-- +And when they looked again, behold! +The fiery clouds had backward rolled, +And borne aloft in grandeur lonely, +Nothing was left "save Jesus only." + +Resplendent type of things to be! +We read its mystery to-day +With clearer eyes than even they, +The fisher-saints of Galilee. +We see the Christ stand out between +The ancient law and faith serene, +Spirit and letter; but above +Spirit and letter both was Love. +Led by the hand of Jacob's God, +Through wastes of eld a path was trod +By which the savage world could move +Upward through law and faith to love. +And there in Tabor's harmless flame +The crowning revelation came. +The old world knelt in homage due, +The prophets near in reverence drew, +Law ceased its mission to fulfill, +And Love was lord on Tabor's hill. + +So now, while creeds perplex the mind +And wranglings load the weary wind, +When all the air is filled with words +And texts that ring like clashing swords, +Still, as for refuge, we may turn +Where Tabor's shining glories burn,-- +The soul of antique Israel gone, +And nothing left but Christ alone. + + + +Religion and Doctrine + + +He stood before the Sanhedrim; +The scowling rabbis gazed at him. +He recked not of their praise or blame; +There was no fear, there was no shame, +For one upon whose dazzled eyes +The whole world poured its vast surprise. +The open heaven was far too near, +His first day's light too sweet and clear, +To let him waste his new-gained ken +On the hate-clouded face of men. + +But still they questioned, Who art thou? +What hast thou been? What art thou now? +Thou art not he who yesterday +Sat here and begged beside the way; +For he was blind. + --_And I am he; +For I was blind, but now I see_. + + He told the story o'er and o'er; +It was his full heart's only lore: +A prophet on the Sabbath-day +Had touched his sightless eyes with clay, +And made him see who had been blind. +Their words passed by him like the wind, +Which raves and howls, but cannot shock +The hundred-fathom-rooted rock. + + Their threats and fury all went wide; +They could not touch his Hebrew pride. +Their sneers at Jesus and His band, +Nameless and homeless in the land, +Their boasts of Moses and his Lord, +All could not change him by one word. + + _I know not what this man may be, +Sinner or saint; but as for me, +One thing I know,--that I am he +Who once was blind, and now I see_. + + They were all doctors of renown, +The great men of a famous town, +With deep brows, wrinkled, broad, and wise, +Beneath their wide phylacteries; +The wisdom of the East was theirs, +And honor crowned their silver hairs. +The man they jeered and laughed to scorn +Was unlearned, poor, and humbly born; +But he knew better far than they +What came to him that Sabbath-day; +And what the Christ had done for him +He knew, and not the Sanhedrim. + + + +Sinai and Calvary + + +There are two mountains hallowed + By majesty sublime, +Which rear their crests unconquered + Above the floods of Time. +Uncounted generations + Have gazed on them with awe,-- +The mountain of the Gospel, + The mountain of the Law. + +From Sinai's cloud of darkness + The vivid lightnings play; +They serve the God of vengeance, + The Lord who shall repay. +Each fault must bring its penance, + Each sin the avenging blade, +For God upholds in justice + The laws that He hath made. + +But Calvary stands to ransom + The earth from utter loss, +In shade than light more glorious, + The shadow of the Cross. +To heal a sick world's trouble, + To soothe its woe and pain, +On Calvary's sacred summit + The Paschal Lamb was slain. + +The boundless might of Heaven + Its law in mercy furled, +As once the bow of promise + O'erarched a drowning world. +The Law said, As you keep me, + It shall be done to you; +But Calvary prays, Forgive them; + They know not what they do. + +Almighty God! direct us + To keep Thy perfect Law! +O blessed Saviour, help us + Nearer to Thee to draw! +Let Sinai's thunders aid us + To guard our feet from sin; +And Calvary's light inspire us + The love of God to win. + + + +The Vision of St. Peter + + +To Peter by night the faithfullest came + And said, "We appeal to thee! +The life of the Church is in thy life; + We pray thee to rise and flee. + +"For the tyrant's hand is red with blood, + And his arm is heavy with power; +Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall, + If thou tarry in Rome an hour." + +Through the sleeping town St. Peter passed + To the wide Campagna plain; +In the starry light of the Alban night + He drew free breath again: + +When across his path an awful form + In luminous glory stood; +His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet, + Were wet with immortal blood. + +The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes + Seemed changed to a godlike wrath, +As they turned on Peter, who cried aloud, + And sank to his knees in the path. + +"Lord of my life, my love, my soul! + Say, what wilt Thou with me?" +A voice replied, "I go to Rome + To be crucified for thee." + +The apostle sprang, all flushed, to his feet,-- + The vision had passed away; +The light still lay on the dewy plain, + But the sky in the east was gray. + +To the city walls St. Peter turned, + And his heart in his breast grew fire; +In every vein the hot blood burned + With the strength of one high desire. + +And sturdily back he marched to his death + Of terrible pain and shame; +And never a shade of fear again + To the stout apostle came. + + + +Israel + + +When by Jabbok the patriarch waited + To learn on the morrow his doom, +And his dubious spirit debated + In darkness and silence and gloom, + There descended a Being with whom +He wrestled in agony sore, + With striving of heart and of brawn, +And not for an instant forbore + Till the east gave a threat of the dawn; +And then, as the Awful One blessed him, + To his lips and his spirit there came, +Compelled by the doubts that oppressed him, +The cry that through questioning ages +Has been wrung from the hinds and the sages, + "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +Most fatal, most futile, of questions! + Wherever the heart of man beats, + In the spirit's most sacred retreats, +It comes with its sombre suggestions, + Unanswered forever and aye. + The blessing may come and may stay, +For the wrestler's heroic endeavor; +But the question, unheeded forever, + Dies out in the broadening day. + +In the ages before our traditions, +By the altars of dark superstitions, + The imperious question has come; +When the death-stricken victim lay sobbing + At the feet of his slayer and priest, +And his heart was laid smoking and throbbing + To the sound of the cymbal and drum +On the steps of the high Teocallis; + When the delicate Greek at his feast +Poured forth the red wine from his chalice + With mocking and cynical prayer; +When by Nile Egypt worshiping lay, + And afar, through the rosy, flushed air +The Memnon called out to the day; +Where the Muezzin's cry floats from his spire; + In the vaulted Cathedral's dim shades, +Where the crushed hearts of thousands aspire +Through art's highest miracles higher, + This question of questions invades + Each heart bowed in worship or shame; +In the air where the censers are swinging, +A voice, going up with the singing, +Cries, "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +No answer came back, not a word, +To the patriarch there by the ford; +No answer has come through the ages +To the poets, the seers, and the sages +Who have sought in the secrets of science +The name and the nature of God, +Whether cursing in desperate defiance +Or kissing his absolute rod; +But the answer which was and shall be, +"My name! Nay, what is it to thee?" +The search and the question are vain. +By use of the strength that is in you, +By wrestling of soul and of sinew +The blessing of God you may gain. + +There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven + That never will shine on our eyes; +To mortals it may not be given + To range those inviolate skies. +The mind, whether praying or scorning, + That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; +But strive through the night till the morning, + And mightily shalt thou prevail. + + + +Crows at Washington + + +Slow flapping to the setting sun +By twos and threes, in wavering rows. + As twilight shadows dimly close, +The crows fly over Washington. + +Under the crimson sunset sky +Virginian woodlands leafless lie, + In wintry torpor bleak and dun. +Through the rich vault of heaven, which shines + Like a warmed opal in the sun, +With wide advance in broken lines + The crows fly over Washington. + +Over the Capitol's white dome, + Across the obelisk soaring bare +To prick the clouds, they travel home, +Content and weary, winnowing + With dusky vans the golden air, +Which hints the coming of the spring, + Though winter whitens Washington. + +The dim, deep air, the level ray +Of dying sunlight on their plumes, + Give them a beauty not their own; +Their hoarse notes fail and faint away; + A rustling murmur floating down +Blends sweetly with the thickening glooms; +They touch with grace the fading day, + Slow flying over Washington. + +I stand and watch with clouded eyes + These dim battalions move along; +Out of the distance memory cries + Of days when life and hope were strong, +When love was prompt and wit was gay; +Even then, at evening, as to-day, + I watched, while twilight hovered dim + Over Potomac's curving rim, +This selfsame flight of homing crows +Blotting the sunset's fading rose, + Above the roofs of Washington. + + + +Remorse + + +Sad is the thought of sunniest days + Of love and rapture perished, +And shine through memory's tearful haze + The eyes once fondliest cherished. +Reproachful is the ghost of toys + That charmed while life was wasted. +But saddest is the thought of joys + That never yet were tasted. + +Sad is the vague and tender dream + Of dead love's lingering kisses, +To crushed hearts haloed by the gleam + Of unreturning blisses; +Deep mourns the soul in anguished pride + For the pitiless death that won them,-- +But the saddest wail is for lips that died + With the virgin dew upon them. + + + +Esse Quam Videri + + +The knightly legend of thy shield betrays +The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, + And that large honor that deceit defies, +Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, +Who decked thy scutcheon with that sturdy phrase, + _To be rather than seem_. As eve's red skies + Surpass the morning's rosy prophecies, +Thy life to that proud boast its answer pays. +Scorning thy faith and purpose to defend + The ever-mutable multitude at last + Will hail the power they did not comprehend,-- +Thy fame will broaden through the centuries; + As, storm and billowy tumult overpast, + The moon rules calmly o'er the conquered seas. + + + +When the Boys Come Home + + +There's a happy time coming, + When the boys come home. +There's a glorious day coming, + When the boys come home. +We will end the dreadful story +Of this treason dark and gory +In a sunburst of glory, + When the boys come home. + +The day will seem brighter + When the boys come home, +For our hearts will be lighter + When the boys come home. +Wives and sweethearts will press them +In their arms and caress them, +And pray God to bless them, + When the boys come home. + +The thinned ranks will be proudest + When the boys come home, +And their cheer will ring the loudest + When the boys come home. +The full ranks will be shattered, +And the bright arms will be battered, +And the battle-standards tattered, + When the boys come home. + +Their bayonets may be rusty, + When the boys come home, +And their uniforms dusty, + When the boys come home. +But all shall see the traces +Of battle's royal graces, +In the brown and bearded faces, + When the boys come home. + +Our love shall go to meet them, + When the boys come home, +To bless them and to greet them, + When the boys come home; +And the fame of their endeavor +Time and change shall not dissever +From the nation's heart forever, + When the boys come home. + + + +Lèse-Amour + + +How well my heart remembers +Beside these camp-fire embers +The eyes that smiled so far away,-- + The joy that was November's. + + Her voice to laughter moving, + So merrily reproving,-- +We wandered through the autumn woods, + And neither thought of loving. + + The hills with light were glowing, + The waves in joy were flowing,-- +It was not to the clouded sun + The day's delight was owing. + +Though through the brown leaves straying, + Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; +We knew not Love was with us there, + No look nor tone betraying. + + How unbelief still misses + The best of being's blisses! +Our parting saw the first and last + Of love's imagined kisses. + + Now 'mid these scenes the drearest + I dream of her, the dearest,-- +Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, + So far, and yet the nearest. + + And Love, so gayly taunted, + Who died, no welcome granted, +Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, + By whom my life is haunted. + + With bonds I may not sever, + He binds my heart forever, +And leads me where we murdered him,-- + The Hill beside the River. + + +CAMP SHAW, FLORIDA, February, 1864. + + + +Northward + + +Under the high unclouded sun +That makes the ship and shadow one, + I sail away as from the fort +Booms sullenly the noonday gun. + +The odorous airs blow thin and fine, +The sparkling waves like emeralds shine, + The lustre of the coral reefs +Gleams whitely through the tepid brine. + +And glitters o'er the liquid miles +The jewelled ring of verdant isles, + Where generous Nature holds her court +Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. + +Encinctured by the faithful seas +Inviolate gardens load the breeze, + Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes +The pennants of the cocoa-trees. + +Enthroned in light and bathed in balm, +In lonely majesty the Palm + Blesses the isles with waving hands,-- +High-Priest of the eternal Calm. + +Yet Northward with an equal mind +I steer my course, and leave behind + The rapture of the Southern skies,-- +The wooing of the Southern wind. + +For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom +Falls far and near the shade of gloom, +Cast from the hovering vulture-wings +Of one dark thought of woe and doom. + +I know that in the snow-white pines +The brave Norse fire of freedom shines, + And fain for this I leave the land +Where endless summer pranks the vines. + +O strong, free North, so wise and brave! +O South, too lovely for a slave! + Why read ye not the changeless truth,-- +The free can conquer but to save? + +May God upon these shining sands +Send Love and Victory clasping hands, + And Freedom's banners wave in peace +Forever o'er the rescued lands! + +And here, in that triumphant hour, +Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power; + And blushing earth and smiling sea +In dalliance deck the bridal bower. + +KEY WEST, 1864. + + + +In the Firelight + + +My dear wife sits beside the fire + With folded hands and dreaming eyes, +Watching the restless flames aspire, + And wrapped in thralling memories. +I mark the fitful firelight fling + Its warm caresses on her brow, +And kiss her hands' unmelting snow, + And glisten on her wedding-ring. + +The proud free head that crowns so well + The neck superb, whose outlines glide +Into the bosom's perfect swell + Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide, +The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, + The gracious charm her beauty wears, + Fill my fond eyes with tender tears +As in the days of long ago. + +Days long ago, when in her eyes + The only heaven I cared for lay, +When from our thoughtless Paradise + All care and toil dwelt far away; +When Hope in wayward fancies throve, + And rioted in secret sweets, + Beguiled by Passion's dear deceits,-- +The mysteries of maiden love. + +One year had passed since first my sight + Was gladdened by her girlish charms, +When on a rapturous summer night + I clasped her in possessing arms. +And now ten years have rolled away, + And left such blessings as their dower, + I owe her tenfold at this hour +The love that lit our wedding-day. + +For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, + My fancy sees, by love refined, +A warmer and a dearer charm + By wedlock's mystic hands intwined,-- +golden coil of wifely cares + That years have forged, the loving joy + That guards the curly-headed boy +Asleep an hour ago up stairs. + +A fair young mother, pure as fair, + A matron heart and virgin soul! +The flickering light that crowns her hair + Seems like a saintly aureole. +A tender sense upon me falls + That joy unmerited is mine, + And in this pleasant twilight shine +My perfect bliss myself appalls. + +Come back! my darling, strayed so far + Into the realm of fantasy,-- +Let thy dear face shine like a star + In love-light beaming over me. +My melting soul is jealous, sweet, + Of thy long silence' drear eclipse, + O kiss me back with living lips +To life, love, lying at thy feet! + + + +In a Graveyard + + +In the dewy depths of the graveyard + I lie in the tangled grass, +And watch, in the sea of azure, + The white cloud-islands pass. + +The birds in the rustling branches + Sing gayly overhead; +Gray stones like sentinel spectres + Are guarding the silent dead. + +The early flowers sleep shaded + In the cool green noonday glooms; +The broken light falls shuddering + On the cold white face of the tombs, + +Without, the world is smiling + In the infinite love of God, +But the sunlight fails and falters + When it falls on the churchyard sod. + +On me the joyous rapture + Of a heart's first love is shed, +But it falls on my heart as coldly + As sunlight on the dead. + + + +The Prairie + + +The skies are blue above my head, + The prairie green below, +And flickering o'er the tufted grass + The shifting shadows go, +Vague-sailing, where the feathery clouds + Fleck white the tranquil skies, +Black javelins darting where aloft + The whirring pheasant flies. + +A glimmering plain in drowsy trance + The dim horizon bounds, +Where all the air is resonant + With sleepy summer sounds, +The life that sings among the flowers, + The lisping of the breeze, +The hot cicala's sultry cry, + The murmurous dream of bees. + +The butterfly--a flying flower-- + Wheels swift in flashing rings, +And flutters round his quiet kin, + With brave flame-mottled wings. +The wild Pinks burst in crimson fire, + The Phlox' bright clusters shine, +And Prairie-Cups are swinging free + To spill their airy wine. + +And lavishly beneath the sun, + In liberal splendor rolled, +The Fennel fills the dipping plain + With floods of flowery gold; +And widely weaves the Iron-Weed + A woof of purple dyes +Where Autumn's royal feet may tread + When bankrupt Summer flies. + +In verdurous tumult far away + The prairie-billows gleam, +Upon their crests in blessing rests + The noontide's gracious beam. +Low quivering vapors steaming dim + The level splendors break +Where languid Lilies deck the rim + Of some land-circled lake. + +Far in the East like low-hung clouds + The waving woodlands lie; +Far in the West the glowing plain + Melts warmly in the sky. +No accent wounds the reverent air, + No footprint dints the sod,-- +Lone in the light the prairie lies, + Rapt in a dream of God + +ILLINOIS, 1858. + + + +Centennial + + +A hundred times the bells of Brown + Have rung to sleep the idle summers, +And still to-day clangs clamoring down + A greeting to the welcome comers. + +And far, like waves of morning, pours + Her call, in airy ripples breaking, +And wanders to the farthest shores, + Her children's drowsy hearts awaking. + +The wild vibration floats along, + O'er heart-strings tense its magic plying, +And wakes in every breast its song + Of love and gratitude undying. + +My heart to meet the summons leaps + At limit of its straining tether, +Where the fresh western sunlight steeps + In golden flame the prairie heather. + +And others, happier, rise and fare + To pass within the hallowed portal, +And see the glory shining there + Shrined in her steadfast eyes immortal. + +What though their eyes be dim and dull, + Their heads be white in reverend blossom; +Our mother's smile is beautiful + As when she bore them on her bosom! + +Her heavenly forehead bears no line + Of Time's iconoclastic fingers, +But o'er her form the grace divine + Of deathless youth and wisdom lingers. + +We fade and pass, grow faint and old, + Till youth and joy and hope are banished, +And still her beauty seems to fold + The sum of all the glory vanished. + +As while Tithonus faltered on + The threshold of the Olympian dawnings, +Aurora's front eternal shone + With lustre of the myriad mornings. + +So joys that slip like dead leaves down, + And hopes burnt out that die in ashes, +Rise restless from their graves to crown + Our mother's brow with fadeless flashes. + +And lives wrapped in tradition's mist + These honored halls to-day are haunting, +And lips by lips long withered kissed + The sagas of the past are chanting. + +Scornful of absence' envious bar + BROWN smiles upon the mystic meeting +Of those her sons, who, sundered far, + In brotherhood of heart are greeting; + +Her wayward children wandering on + Where setting stars are lowly burning, +But still in worship toward the dawn + That gilds their souls' dear Mecca turning; + +Or those who, armed for God's own fight, + Stand by his word through fire and slaughter. +Or bear our banner's starry light + Far-flashing through the Gulf's blue water. + +For where one strikes for light and truth + The right to aid, the wrong redressing, +The mother of his spirit's youth + Sheds o'er his soul her silent blessing. + +She gained her crown a gem of flame + When KNEASS fell dead in victory gory; +New splendor blazed upon her name + When IVES' young life went out in glory! + +Thus bright forever may she keep + Her fires of tolerant Freedom burning, +Till War's red eyes are charmed to sleep + And bells ring home the boys returning. + +And may she shed her radiant truth + In largess on ingenuous comers, +And hold the bloom of gracious youth + Through many a hundred tranquil summers! + + + +A Winter Night + + +The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill + And chides with angry moan the frosty skies, + The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes +That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still +We reck not of the wild night's gloom and chill, + Housed from its rage, dear friend; and fancy flies, + Lured by the hand of beckoning memories, +Back to those summer evenings on the hill +Where we together watched the sun go down + Beyond the gold-washed uplands, while his fires + Touched into glittering life the vanes and spires +Piercing the purpling mists that veiled the town. + The wintry night thy voice and eyes beguile, + Till wake the sleeping summers in thy smile. + + + +Student-Song + + +When Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend, + And Youth's blue sky is bright, +And shines in Youth's clear eye, my friend, + Love's early dawning light, +Let the free soul spurn care's control, + And while the glad days shine, +We'll use their beams for Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +Let not the bigot's frown, my friend, + O'ercast thy brow with gloom, +For Autumn's sober brown, my friend, + Shall follow Summer's bloom. +Let smiles and sighs and loving eyes + In changeful beauty shine, +And shed their beams on Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +For in the weary years, my friend, + That stretched before us lie, +There'll be enough of tears, my friend, + To dim the brightest eye. +So let them wait, and laugh at fate, + While Youth's sweet moments shine,-- +Till memory gleams with golden dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + + + +How It Happened + + +I pray you, pardon me, Elsie, + And smile that frown away +That dims the light of your lovely face + As a thunder-cloud the day. +I really could not help it,-- + Before I thought, 't was done,-- +And those great gray eyes flashed bright and cold, + Like an icicle in the sun. + +I was thinking of the summers + When we were boys and girls, +And wandered in the blossoming woods, + And the gay winds romped with your curls. +And you seemed to me the same little girl + I kissed in the alder-path, +I kissed the little girl's lips, and alas! + I have roused a woman's wrath. + +There is not so much to pardon,-- + For why were your lips so red? +The blond hair fell in a shower of gold + From the proud, provoking head. +And the beauty that flashed from the splendid eyes, + And played round the tender mouth, +Rushed over my soul like a warm sweet wind + That blows from the fragrant south. + +And where, after all, is the harm done? + I believe we were made to be gay, +And all of youth not given to love + Is vainly squandered away. +And strewn through life's low labors, + Like gold in the desert sands, +Are love's swift kisses and sighs and vows + And the clasp of clinging hands. + +And when you are old and lonely, + In Memory's magic shine +You will see on your thin and wasting hands, + Like gems, these kisses of mine. +And when you muse at evening + At the sound of some vanished name, +The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips + And kindle your heart to flame. + + + +God's Vengeance + + +Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine; + I will repay," saith the Lord; +Ours be the anger divine, + Lit by the flash of his word. + +How shall his vengeance be done? + How, when his purpose is clear? +Must he come down from his throne? + Hath he no instruments here? + +Sleep not in imbecile trust + Waiting for God to begin, +While, growing strong in the dust, + Rests the bruised serpent of sin. + +Right and Wrong,--both cannot live + Death-grappled. Which shall we see? +Strike! only Justice can give + Safety to all that shall be. + +Shame! to stand paltering thus, + Tricked by the balancing odds; +Strike! God is waiting for us! + Strike! for the vengeance is God's. + + + +Too Late + + +Had we but met in other days, +Had we but loved in other ways, +Another light and hope had shone + On your life and my own. + +In sweet but hopeless reveries +I fancy how your wistful eyes +Had saved me, had I known their power + In fate's imperious hour; + +How loving you, beloved of God, +And following you, the path I trod +Had led me, through your love and prayers. + To God's love unawares: + +And how our beings joined as one +Had passed through checkered shade and sun, +Until the earth our lives had given, + With little change, to heaven. + +God knows why this was not to be. +You bloomed from childhood far from me, +The sunshine of the favored place + That knew your youth and grace. + +And when your eyes, so fair and free, +In fearless beauty beamed on me, +I knew the fatal die was thrown, + My choice in life was gone. + +And still with wild and tender art +Your child-love touched my torpid heart, +Gilding the blackness where it fell, + Like sunlight over hell. + +In vain, in vain! my choice was gone! +Better to struggle on alone +Than blot your pure life's blameless shine + With cloudy stains of mine. + +A vague regret, a troubled prayer, +And then the future vast and fair +Will tempt your young and eager eyes + With all its glad surprise. + +And I shall watch you, safe and far, +As some late traveller eyes a star +Wheeling beyond his desert sands + To gladden happier lands. + + + +Love's Doubt + + +'Tis love that blinds my heart and eyes,-- + I sometimes say in doubting dreams,-- + The face that near me perfect seems +Cold Memory paints in fainter dyes. + +'T was but love's dazzled eyes--I say-- + That made her seem so strangely bright; + The face I worshipped yesternight, +I dread to meet it changed to-day. + +As, when dies out some song's refrain, + And leaves your eyes in happy tears, + Awake the same fond idle fears,-- +It cannot sound so sweet again. + +You wait and say with vague annoy, + "It will not sound so sweet again," + Until comes back the wild refrain +That floods your soul with treble joy. + +So when I see my love again + Fades the unquiet doubt away, + While shines her beauty like the day +Over my happy heart and brain. + +And in that face I see no more + The fancied faults I idly dreamed, + But all the charms that fairest seemed, +I find them, fairer than before. + + + +Lagrimas + + + God send me tears! +Loose the fierce band that binds my tired brain, +Give me the melting heart of other years, + And let me weep again! + + Before me pass +The shapes of things inexorably true. +Gone is the sparkle of transforming dew + From every blade of grass. + + In life's high noon +Aimless I stand, my promised task undone, +And raise my hot eyes to the angry sun + That will go down too soon. + +Turned into gall +Are the sweet joys of childhood's sunny reign; +And memory is a torture, love a chain + That binds my life in thrall. + + And childhood's pain +Could to me now the purest rapture yield; +I pray for tears as in his parching field + The husbandman for rain. + + We pray in vain! +The sullen sky flings down its blaze of brass; +The joys of life all scorched and withering pass; + I shall not weep again. + + + +On the Bluff + + +O grandly flowing River! +O silver-gliding River! +Thy springing willows shiver + In the sunset as of old; +They shiver in the silence +Of the willow-whitened islands, +While the sun-bars and the sand-bars + Fill air and wave with gold. + +O gay, oblivious River! +O sunset-kindled River! +Do you remember ever + The eyes and skies so blue +On a summer day that shone here, +When we were all alone here, +And the blue eyes were too wise + To speak the love they knew? + +O stern impassive River! +O still unanswering River! +The shivering willows quiver + As the night-winds moan and rave. +From the past a voice is calling, +From heaven a star is falling, +And dew swells in the bluebells + Above her hillside grave. + + + +Una + + +In the whole wide world there was but one, +Others for others, but she was mine, +The one fair woman beneath the sun. + +From her gold-flax curls' most marvellous shine +Down to the lithe and delicate feet +There was not a curve nor a waving line + +But moved in a harmony firm and sweet +With all of passion my life could know. +By knowledge perfect and faith complete + +I was bound to her,--as the planets go +Adoring around their central star, +Free, but united for weal or woe. + +She was so near and Heaven so far-- +She grew my heaven and law and fate +Rounding my life with a mystic bar + +No thought beyond could violate. +Our love to fulness in silence nursed +Grew calm as morning, when through the gate + +Of the glimmering East the sun has burst, +With his hot life filling the waiting air. +She kissed me once,--that last and first + +Of her maiden kisses was placid as prayer. +Against all comers I sat with lance +In rest, and, drunk with my joy, I sware + +Defiance and scorn to the world's worst chance. +In vain! for soon unhorsed I lay +At the feet of the strong god Circumstance-- + +And never again shall break the day, +And never again shall fall the night +That shall light me, or shield me, on my way + +To the presence of my sad soul's delight. +Her dead love comes like a passionate ghost +To mourn the Body it held so light, + +And Fate, like a hound with a purpose lost, +Goes round bewildered with shame and fright. + + + + +Through the long days and years + What will my loved one be, + Parted from me? +Through the long days and years. + +Always as then she was + Loveliest, brightest, best, + Blessing and blest,-- +Always as then she was. + +Never on earth again + Shall I before her stand, + Touch lip or hand,-- +Never on earth again. + +But while my darling lives + Peaceful I journey on, + Not quite alone, +Not while my darling lives. + + + +A Phylactery + + +Wise men I hold those rakes of old + Who, as we read in antique story, +When lyres were struck and wine was poured, +Set the white Death's Head on the board-- + Memento mori. + +Love well! love truly! and love fast! + True love evades the dilatory. +Life's bloom flares like a meteor past; +A joy so dazzling cannot last-- + Memento mori. + +Stop not to pluck the leaves of bay + That greenly deck the path of glory, +The wreath will wither if you stay, +So pass along your earnest way-- + Memento mori. + +Hear but not heed, though wild and shrill, + The cries of faction transitory; +Cleave to _your_ good, eschew _your_ ill, +A Hundred Years and all is still-- + Memento mori. + +When Old Age comes with muffled drums, + That beat to sleep our tired life's story, +On thoughts of dying, (Rest is good!) +Like old snakes coiled i' the sun, we brood-- + Memento mori. + + + +Blondine + + +I wandered through a careless world + Deceived when not deceiving, +And never gave an idle heart + The rapture of believing. +The smiles, the sighs, the glancing eyes, + Of many hundred comers +Swept by me, light as rose-leaves blown + From long-forgotten summers. + +But never eyes so deep and bright + And loyal in their seeming, +And never smiles so full of light + Have shone upon my dreaming. +The looks and lips so gay and wise, + The thousand charms that wreathe them, +--Almost I dare believe that truth + Is safely shrined beneath them. + +Ah! do they shine, those eyes of thine, + But for our own misleading? +The fresh young smile, so pure and fine, + Does it but mock our reading? +Then faith is fled, and trust is dead, + And unbelief grows duty, +If fraud can wield the triple arm + Of youth and wit and beauty. + + + +Distichs + + +I. + +Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her. +This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not. + +II. + +There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going, +When they seem going they come: Diplomates, women, and crabs. + +III. + +Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recollection, +As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea. + +IV. + +As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them, +Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king. + +V. + +What is a first love worth, except to prepare for a second? +What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first. + +VI. + +Health was wooed by the Romans in groves of the laurel and myrtle. +Happy and long are the lives brightened by glory and love. + +VII. + +Wine is like rain: when it falls on the mire it but makes it the fouler, +But when it strikes the good soil wakes it to beauty and bloom. + +VIII. + +Break not the rose; its fragrance and beauty are surely sufficient: +Resting contented with these, never a thorn shall you feel. + +IX. + +When you break up housekeeping, you learn the extent of your treasures; +Till he begins to reform, no one can number his sins. + +X. + +Maidens! why should you worry in choosing whom you shall marry? +Choose whom you may, you will find you have got somebody else. + +XI. + +Unto each man comes a day when his favorite sins all forsake him, +And he complacently thinks he has forsaken his sins. + +XII. + +Be not too anxious to gain your next-door neighbor's approval: +Live your own life, and let him strive your approval to gain. + +XIII. + +Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of his pronouns. +Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I. + +XIV. + +The best loved man or maid in the town would perish with anguish +Could they hear all that their friends say in the course of a day. + +XV. + +True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table: +Luckiest he who knows just when to rise and go home. + +XVI. + +Pleasant enough it is to hear the world speak of your virtues; +But in your secret heart 't is of your faults you are proud. + +XVII. + +Try not to beat back the current, yet be not drowned in its waters; +Speak with the speech of the world, think with the thoughts of the few. + +XVIII. + +Make all good men your well-wishers, and then, in the years' steady sifting, +Some of them turn into friends. Friends are the sunshine of life. + + + +Regardant + + +As I lay at your feet that afternoon, +Little we spoke,--you sat and mused, +Humming a sweet old-fashioned tune, + +And I worshipped you, with a sense confused +Of the good time gone and the bad on the way, +While my hungry eyes your face perused + +To catch and brand on my soul for aye +The subtle smile which had grown my doom. +Drinking sweet poison hushed I lay + +Till the sunset shimmered athwart the room. +I rose to go. You stood so fair +And dim in the dead day's tender gloom: + +All at once, or ever I was aware, +Flashed from you on me a warm strong wave +Of passion and power; in the silence there + +I fell on my knees, like a lover, or slave, +With my wild hands clasping your slender waist; +And my lips, with a sudden frenzy brave, + +A madman's kiss on your girdle pressed, +And I felt your calm heart's quickening beat, +And your soft hands on me one instant rest. + +And if God had loved me, how endlessly sweet +Had he let my heart in its rapture burst, +And throb its last at your firm small feet! + +And when I was forth, I shuddered at first +At my imminent bliss. As a soul in pain, +Treading his desolate path accursed, + +Looks back and dreams through his tears' dim rain +That by Heaven's wide gate the angels smile, +Relenting, and beckon him back again, + +And goes on, thrice damned by that devil's wile,-- +So sometimes burns in my weary brain +The thought that you loved me all the while. + + + +Guy of the Temple + + +Down the dim West slow fails the stricken sun, +And from his hot face fades the crimson flush +Veiled in death's herald-shadows sick and gray. +Silent and dark the sombre valley lies +Forgotten; happy in the late fond beams +Glimmer the constant waves of Galilee. +Afar, below, in airy music ring +The bugles of my host; the column halts, +A wearied serpent glittering in the vale, +Where rising mist-like gleam the tented camps. + +Pitch my pavilion here, where its high cross +May catch the last light lingering on the hill. +The savage shadows, struggling by the shore, +Have conquered in the valley; inch by inch +The vanquished light fights bravely to these crags +To perish glorious in the sunset fire; +Even as our hunted Cause so pressed and torn +In Syrian valleys, and the trampled marge +Of consecrated streams, displays at last +Its narrowing glories from these steadfast walls. +Here in God's name we stand, and brighter far +Shines the stern virtue of my martyr-host +Through these invidious fortunes, than of old, +When the still sunshine glinted on their helms, +And dallying breezes woke their bridle-bells +To tinkling music by the reedy shore +Of calm Tiberias, where our angry Lord, +Wroth at the deadly sin that cursed our camp, +Denied and blinded us, and gave us up +To the avenging sword of Saladin. +Yet would he not permit his truth to sink +To utter loss amid that foundering fight, +But led us, scarred and shattered from the spoil +Of Paynim rage, the desert's thirsty death, +To where beneath the sheltering crags we prayed +And rested and grew strong. Heroes and saints +To alien peoples shall they be, my brave +And patient warriors; for in their stout hearts +God's spirit dwells forever, and their hands +Are swift to do his service on his foes. +The swelling music of their vesper-hymn +Is rising fragrant from the shadowed vale +Familiar to the welcoming gates of heaven. + + _Mother of God! as evening falls + Upon the silent sea_. + +_ Mother of God! as evening falls +Upon the silent sea, +And shadows veil the mountain walls, +We lift our souls to thee! +From lurking perils of the night, +The desert's hidden harms, +From plagues that waste, from blasts that smite, +Defend thy men-at-arms!_ + +Ay! Heaven keep them! and ye angel-hosts +That wait with fluttering plumes around the great +White throne of God, guard them from scathe and harm! +For in your starry records never shone +The memory of desert so great as theirs. +I hold not first, though peerless else on earth, +That knightly valor, born of gentle blood +And war's long tutelage, which hath made their name +Blaze like a baleful planet o'er these lands; +Firm seat in saddle, lance unmoved, a hand +Wedding the hilt with death's persistent grasp; +One-minded rush in fight that naught can stay. +Not these the highest, though I scorn not these, +But rather offer Heaven with humble heart +The deeds that heaven hath given us arms to do. +For when God's smile was with us we were strong +To go like sudden lightning to our mark: +As on that summer day when Saladin-- +Passing in scorn our host at Antioch, +Who spent the days in revel, and shamed the stars +With nightly scandal--came with all his host, +Its gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Flaunting the banners of the Caliphate +Beneath the walls of fair Jerusalem: +And white and shaking came the Leper-King, +Great Baldwin's blasted scion, and Tripoli +And I, and twenty score of Temple Knights, +To meet the myriads marshalled by the bright +Untarnished flower of Eastern chivalry; +A moment paused with level-fronting spears +And moveless helms before that shining host, +Whose gay attire abashed the morning light, +And then struck spur and charged, while from the mass +Of rushing terror burst the awful cry, +_God and the Temple_! As the avalanche slides +Down Alpine slopes, precipitous, cold and dark, +Unpitying and unwrathful, grinds and crushes +The mountain violets and the valley weeds, +And drags behind a trail of chaos and death; +So burst we on that field, and through and through +The gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Crushed and abolished every grace and gleam, +And dragged where'er we rode a sinuous track +Of chaos and death, till all the plain was filled +With battered armor, turbaned trunkless heads, +With silken mantles blushing angry gules +And Bagdad's banners trampled and forlorn. +And Saladin, stunned and bewildered sore,-- +The greatest prince, save in the grace of God, +That now wears sword,--mounted his brother's barb, +And, followed by a half-score followers, +Sped to his castle Shaubec, over against +The cliffs by Ascalon, and there abode: +And sullenly made order that no more +The royal nouba should be played for him +Until he should erase the rusting stain +Upon his knightly honor; and no more +The nouba sounded by the Sultan's tent, +Morning nor evening by the silent tent, +Until the headlong greed of Chatillon +Spread ruin on our cause from Montreale. +But greatest are my warriors, as I deem, +In that their hearts, nearer than any else +Keep true the pledge of perfect purity +They pledged upon their sword-hilts long ago. +For all is possible to the pure in heart. + + _Mother of God! thy starry smile + Still bless us from above! + Keep pure our souls from passion's guile, + Our hearts from earthly love! + Still save each soul from guilt apart + As stainless as each sword + And guard undimmed in every heart + The image of our Lord!_ + +O goodliest fellowship that the world has known, +True hearts and stalwart arms! above your breasts +Glitters no flash of wreathen amulet +Forged against sword-stroke by the chanted rhythm +Of charms accurst; but in each steadfast heart +Blazes the light of cloudless purity, +That like a splendid jewel glorifies +With restless fire the gold that spheres it round, +And marks you children of our God, whose lives +He guards with the awful jealousy of love. +And even me that generous love has spared,-- +Me, trustless knight and miserable man,-- +Sad prey of dark and mutinous thoughts that tempt +My sick soul into perjury and death-- +Since his great love had pity of my pain, +Has spared to lead these blameless warriors safe +Into the desert from the blazing towns, +Out of the desert to the inviolate hills +Where God has roofed them with his hollow shield. +Through all these days of tempest and eclipse +His hand has led me and his wrath has flashed +Its lightnings in the pathway of my sword. +And so I hope, and so my crescent faith +Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears +And toils and blood and anguish borne for him +May blot the accusing of my deadly sin +From heaven's high compt, and give me rest in death; +And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, +That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, +Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul. +My misery will atone,--my misery, +Dear God, will surely atone! for not the sting +Of macerating thongs, nor the slow horror +Of crowns of thorny iron maddening the brows, +Nor all that else pale hermits have devised +To scourge the rebel senses in their shade +Of caverned desolation, have the power +To smart and goad and lash and mortify +Like the great love that binds my ruined heart +Relentless, as the insidious ivy binds +The shattered bulk of some deserted tower, +Enlacing slow and riving with strong hands +Of pitiless verdure every seam and jut, +Till none may tear it forth and save the tower. +So binds and masters me my hopeless love. +So through the desert, in the silent hills, +I' the current of the battle's storm and stress, +One thought has driven me,--that though men may call +Me stainless Paladin, Knight leal and true +To Christ and Our Lady, still I know myself +A knight not after God's own heart, a soul +Recreant, and whelmed in the forbidden sin. +For dearer to my sad heart than the cross +I give my heart's best blood for are the eyes +That long ago, when youth and hope were mine, +I loved in thy still valleys, far Provence! +And sweeter to my spirit than the bells +Of rescued Salem are the loving tones +Of her dear voice, soft echoing o'er the years. +They haunt me in the stillness and the glare +Of desert noontide when the horizon's line +Swims faintly throbbing, and my shadow hides +Skulking beneath me from the brassy sky. +And when night comes to soothe with breath of balm +And pomp of stars the worn and weary world, +Her eyes rise in my soul and make its day. +And even into the battle comes my love, +Snatching the duty that I offer Heaven. + +At closing of El-Majed's awful day, +When the last quivering sunbeams, choked with dust +And fume of blood, failed on the level plain, +In the last charge, when gathered all our knights +The precious handful who from morn had stemmed +The fury of the multitudinous hosts +Of Islam, where in youth's hot fire and pride +Ramped the young lion-whelp, Ben-Saladin; +As down the slope we rode at eventide, +The dying sunlight faintly smiled to greet +Our tattered guidons and our dinted helms +And lance-heads blooming with the battle's rose. +Into the vale, dusk with the shadow of death, +With silent lips and ringing mail we rode. +And something in the spirit of the hour, +Or fate, or memory, or sorrow, or sin, +Or love, which unto me is all of these, +Possessed and bound me; for when dashed our troop +In stormy clangor on the Paynim lines +The soul of my dead youth came into me; +Faded away my oath; the woes of Zion, +God was forgot; blazed in my leaping heart, +With instant flash, life's inextinguished fires; +Plunging along each tense limb poured the blood +Hot with its years of sleeping-smothered flame. +And in a dream I charged, and in a dream +I smote resistless; foemen in my path +Fell unregarded, like the wayside flowers +Clipped by the truant's staff in daisied lanes. +For over me burned lustrous the dear eyes +Of my beloved; I strove as at a joust +To gain at end the guerdon of her smile. +And ever, as in the dense melee I dashed, +Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks +Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms. + +O my lost love! Bright o'er the waste of years-- +That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; +As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, +Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch +Of sands that intervene. In this still light +The old sweet memories glimmer back to me. +Fair summers of my youth,--the idle days +I wandered in the bosky coverts hid +In the dim woods that girt my ancient home; +The blue young eyes I met and worshipped there; +The love that growing turned those gloomy wilds +To faery dells, and filled the vernal air +With light that bathed the hills of Paradise; +The warm, long days of rapturous summer-time, +When through the forests thick and lush we strayed, +And love made our own sunshine in the shades. +And all things fair and graceful in the woods +I loved with liberal heart; the violets +Were dear for her dear eyes, the quiring birds +That caught the musical tremble of her voice. +O happy twilights in the leafy glooms! +When in the glowing dusk the winsome arts +And maiden graces that all day had kept +Us twain and separate melted away +In blushing silence, and my love was mine +Utterly, utterly, with clinging arms +And quick, caressing fingers, warm red lips, +Where vows, half uttered, drowned in kisses, died; +Mine, with the starlight in her passionate eyes; +The wild wind of the woodland breathing low +To wake the elfin music of the leaves, +And free the prisoned odors of the flowers, +In honor of young Love come to his throne! +While we under the stars, with twining arms +And mutual lips insatiate, gave our souls-- +Madly forgetting earth and heaven--to love! + +_In desert march or battles flame, + In fortress and in field, +Our war-cry is thy holy name, + Thy love our joy and shield! +And if we falter, let thy power + Thy stern avenger be, +And God forget us in the hour + We cease to think of thee!_ + +Curse me not, God of Justice and of Love! +Pitiful God, let my long woe atone! + +I cannot deem but God has pitied me; +Else why with painful care have I been saved, +Whenever tossed and drenched in the fierce tide +Of Saladin's victories by the walls profaned +Of Jaffa, on the sands of far Daroum, +Or in the battle thundering on the downs +Of Ramlah, or the bloody day that shed +Red horrors on high Gaza's parapets? +For never a storm of fatal fight has raged +In Islam's track of rout and ruin swept +From Egypt to Gebail, but when the ebb +Of battle came I and my host have lain, +Scarred, scorched, safe somewhere on its fiery shore. +At Marcab's lingering siege, where day by day +We told the Moslem legions toiling slow, +Planting their engines, delving in their mines +To quench in our destruction this last light +Of Christendom, our fortress in the crags, +God's beacon swung defiant from the stars; +One thunderous night I knew their miners groped +Below, and thought ere morn to die, in crush +And tumult of the falling citadel. +And pondering of my fate--the broken storm +Sobbing its life away--I was aware +There grew between me and the quieting skies +A face and form I knew,--not as in dreams, +The sad dishevelled loveliness of earth, +But lighter than the thin air where she swayed,-- +Gold hair flame-fluttered, eyes and mouth aglow +With lambent light of spiritual joy. +With sweet command she beckoned me away +And led me vaguely dreaming, till I saw +Where the wild flood in sudden fury had burst +A passage through the rocks: and thence I led +My host unharmed, following her luminous eyes, +Until the East was gray, and with a smile +Wooing me heavenward still she passed away +Into the rosy trouble of the dawn. + +And I believe my love is shrived in heaven, +And I believe that I shall soon be free. + +For ever, as I journey on, to me +Waking or sleeping come faint whisperings +And fancies not of earth, as if the gates +Of near eternity stood for me ajar, +And ghostly gales come blowing o'er my soul +Fraught with the amaranth odors of the skies. +I go to join the Lion-Heart at Acre, +And there, after due homage to my liege, +And after patient penance of the church, +And after final devoir in the fight, +If that my God be gracious, I shall die. +And so I pray--Lord pardon if I sin!-- +That I may lose in death's imbittered wave, +The stain of sinful loving, and may find +In glory again the love I lost below, +With all of fair and bright and unattained, +Beautiful in the cherishing smile of God, +By the glad waters of the River of Life! + +Night hangs above the valley; dies the day +In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, +And warns me to my prayers. _Ave Maria! + Mother of God! the evening fades + On wave and hill and lea_, + +_And in the twilight's deepening shades + We lift our souls to thee! +In passion's stress--the battles strife, + The desert's lurking harms, +Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life + Protect thy men-at-arms!_ + + + + +Translations. + + + +The Way to Heaven + +From the German. + + +One day the Sultan, grand and grim, +Ordered the Mufti brought to him. +"Now let thy wisdom solve for me +The question I shall put to thee. + +"The different tribes beneath my sway +Four several sects of priests obey; +Now tell me which of all the four +Is on the path to Heaven's door." + +The Sultan spake, and then was dumb. +The Mufti looked about the room, +And straight made answer to his lord. +Fearing the bowstring at each word: + +"Thou, godlike in thy lofty birth, +Who art our Allah upon earth, +Illume me with thy favoring ray, +And I will answer as I may. + +"Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, +I see there are four doors in all; +And through all four thy slaves may gaze +Upon the brightness of thy face. + +"That I came hither safely through +Was to thy gracious message due, +And, blinded by thy splendor's flame, +I cannot tell the way I came." + + + + +After Heine: Countess Jutta + +From the German of Heinrich Heine. + + +The Countess Jutta passed over the Rhine +In a light canoe by the moon's pale shine. +The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: +"Seest thou not there where the water breaks + Seven corpses swim + In the moonlight dim? +So sorrowful swim the dead! + +"They were seven knights full of fire and youth, +They sank on my heart and swore me truth. +I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, +Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, + I had them bound, + And tenderly drowned! +So sorrowful swim the dead!" + +The merry Countess laughed outright! +It rang so wild in the startled night! +Up to the waist the dead men rise +And stretch lean fingers to the skies. + They nod and stare + With a glassy glare! +So sorrowful swim the dead! + + + + +A Blessing. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +When I look on thee and feel how dear, + How pure, and how fair thou art, +Into my eyes there steals a tear, +And a shadow mingled of love and fear + Creeps slowly over my heart. + +And my very hands feel as if they would lay + Themselves on thy fair young head, +And pray the good God to keep thee alway +As good and lovely, as pure and gay,-- + When I and my wild love are dead. + + + + +To the Young. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Letyour feet not falter, your course not alter + By golden apples, till victory's won! +The sword's sharp clangor, the dart's shrill anger, + Swerve not the hero thundering on. + +A bold beginning is half the winning, + An Alexander makes worlds his fee. +No long debating! The Queens are waiting + In his pavilion on bended knee. + +Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing, + He mounts old Darius' bed and throne. +O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing! + O drunk death-triumph in Babylon! + + + + +The Golden Calf. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Double flutes and horns resound +As they dance the idol round; +Jacob's daughters, madly reeling, + Whirl about the golden calf. + Hear them laugh! +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Dresses tucked above their knees, +Maids of noblest families, +In the swift dance blindly wheeling, + Circle in their wild career + Round the steer,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Aaron's self, the guardian gray +Of the faith, at last gives way, +Madness all his senses stealing; + Prances in his high priest's coat + Like a goat,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + + + + +The Azra. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Daily walked the fair and lovely +Sultan's daughter in the twilight,-- +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the sparkling waters plash. + +Daily stood the young slave silent +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the plashing waters sparkle, +Pale and paler every day. + +Once by twilight came the princess +Up to him with rapid questions: +"I would know thy name, thy nation, +Whence thou comest, who thou art." + +And the young slave said, "My name is +Mahomet, I come from Yemmen. +I am of the sons of Azra, +Men who perish if they love." + + + + +Good and Bad Luck. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls, + Long in one place she will not stay, +Back from your brow she strokes the curls, + Kisses you quick and flies away. + +But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes + And stays,--no fancy has she for flitting,-- +Snatches of true love-songs she hums, + And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting. + + + + +L'Amour du Mensonge. + +After Charles Baudelaire. + + +When I behold thee, O my indolent love, + To the sound of ringing brazen melodies, +Through garish halls harmoniously move, + Scattering a scornful light from languid eyes; + +When I see, smitten by the blazing lights, + Thy pale front, beauteous in its bloodless glow +As the faint fires that deck the Northern nights, + And eyes that draw me wheresoever I go; + +I say, She is fair, too coldly strange for speech; + A crown of memories, her calm brow above, +Shines; and her heart is like a bruised red peach, + Ripe as her body for intelligent love. + +Art thou late fruit of spicy savor and scent? + A funeral vase awaiting tearful showers? +An Eastern odor, waste and oasis blent? + A silken cushion or a bank of flowers? + +I know there are eyes of melancholy sheen + To which no passionate secrets e'er were given; +Shrines where no god or saint has ever been, + As deep and empty as the vault of Heaven. + +But what care I if this be all pretense? + 'T will serve a heart that seeks for truth no more, +All one thy folly or indifference,-- + Hail, lovely mask, thy beauty I adore! + + + + +Amor Mysticus. + +From the Spanish of Sor Marcela de Carpio. + + +Let them say to my Lover + That here I lie! +The thing of His pleasure, + His slave am I. + +Say that I seek Him + Only for love, +And welcome are tortures + My passion to prove. + +Love giving gifts + Is suspicious and cold; +I have all, my Belovèd, + When Thee I hold. + +Hope and devotion + The good may gain; +I am but worthy + Of passion and pain. + +So noble a Lord + None serves in vain, +For the pay of my love + Is my love's sweet pain. + +I love Thee, to love Thee,-- + No more I desire; +By faith is nourished + My love's strong fire. + +I kiss Thy hands + When I feel their blows; +In the place of caresses + Thou givest me woes. + +But in Thy chastising + Is joy and peace. +O Master and Love, + Let Thy blows not cease. + +Thy beauty, Belovèd, + With scorn is rife, +But I know that Thou lovest me + Better than life. + +And because Thou lovest me, + Lover of mine, +Death can but make me + Utterly Thine. + +I die with longing + Thy face to see; +Oh! sweet is the anguish + Of death to me! + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John Hay + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10518 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6da15fc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10518 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10518) diff --git a/old/10518-8.txt b/old/10518-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ddc10f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10518-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4741 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John Hay + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + +Author: John Hay + +Release Date: December 23, 2003 [EBook #10518] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +POEMS + +By John Hay + + + + +Note to Revised Edition + + + +The Publishers of this volume, desiring to print it in an improved form, +have asked me to write something by way of preface or supplement to the +new edition. After some deliberation I have found myself unable to comply +with this request. These pages were written in the first half of the year +1870, a time of intense interest and importance, to Spain. I left Madrid +in the memorable August of that year, passing through Paris when that +beautiful city was lying in the torpor which followed the wild excitement +of the declaration of war, and preceded the fury of despair that came with +the catastrophe of Sedan. I then intended to return to Spain before long; +and, in fact, few years have passed since that time in which I have not +nourished the dream of revisiting the Peninsula and its scenes of magic +and romance. But many cares and duties have intervened; I have never gone +back to Spain, and I have arrived at an age when I begin to doubt if I +have any castles there requiring my attention. + +I have therefore nothing to add to this little book. Reading it again +after the lapse of many years, I find much that might be advantageously +modified or omitted. But as its merits, if it have any, are merely those +of youth, so also are its faults, and they are immanent and structural; +they cannot be amended without tearing the book to pieces. For this reason +I have confined myself to the correction of the most obvious and flagrant +errors, and can only hope the kindly reader will pass over with an +indulgent smile the rapid judgments, the hot prejudices, the pitiless +condemnations, the lyric eulogies, born of an honest enthusiasm and +unchecked by the reserve which comes of age and experience. I venture to +hope, though with some anxiety and uncertainty, that the honest enthusiasm +may itself be recognized, as well as the candor which the writer tried to +preserve in speaking of things which powerfully appealed to his loves and +his hates. + +I therefore commit this book to the public once more with its +imperfections on its head; with its prophecies unfulfilled, its hopes +baffled, its observations in many instances rendered obsolete by the swift +progress of events. A changed Europe--far different from that which I +traversed twenty years ago--suffers in a new fever-dream of war and +revolution north of the Pyrenees; and beyond those picturesque mountains +the Spanish monarchy enjoys a new lease of life by favor of circumstances +which demand a chronicler of more leisure than myself. I must leave what I +wrote in the midst of the stirring scenes of the interregnum between the +secular monarchy and the short-lived Republic--whose advent I foresaw, but +whose sudden fall was veiled from my sanguine vision--without defense or +apology, claiming only that it was written in good faith, from a heart +filled with passionate convictions and an ardent love and devotion to what +is best in Spain. I recorded what I saw, and my eyes were better then than +now. I trust I have not too often spoken amiss of a people whose art, +whose literature, whose language, and whose character compelled my highest +admiration, and with whom I enjoyed friendships which are among the +dearest recollections of my life. + +John Hay. + +Lafayette Square, Washington, +_April_, 1890. + + + + +Contents. + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + Jim Bludso + Little Breeches + Banty Tim + The Mystery of Gilgal + Golyer + The Pledge at Spunky Point + + +Wanderlieder. + + Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + The Sphinx of the Tuileries + The Surrender of Spain + The Prayer of The Romans + The Curse of Hungary + The Monks of Basle + The Enchanted Shirt + A Woman's Love + On Pitz Languard + Boudoir Prophecies + A Triumph of Order + Ernst of Edelsheim + My Castle in Spain + Sister Saint Luke + + +New And Old. + + Miles Keogh's Horse + The Advance Guard + Love's Prayer + Christine + Expectation + To Flora + A Haunted Room + Dreams + The Light of Love + Quand-Même + Words + The Stirrup Cup + A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + Liberty + The White Flag + The Law of Death + Mount Tabor + Religion and Doctrine + Sinai and Calvary + The Vision of St. Peter + Israel + Crows at Washington + Remorse + Esse Quam Vlderi + When the Boys Come Home + Lèse-Amour + Northward + In the Firelight + In a Graveyard + The Prairie + Centennial + A Winter Night + Student-Song + How It Happened + God's Vengeance + Too Late + Love's Doubt + Lagrimas + On the Bluff + Una + "Through the Long Days and Years" + A Phylactery + Blondine + Distichs + Regardant + Guy of the Temple + + +Translations. + + The Way to Heaven + After Heine: Countess Jutta + + + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + +Jim Bludso, of the Prairie Belle. + + +Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, + Becase he don't live, you see; +Leastways, he's got out of the habit + Of livin' like you and me. +Whar have you been for the last three year + That you haven't heard folks tell +How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks + The night of the Prairie Belle? + +He weren't no saint,--them engineers + Is all pretty much alike, +One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill + And another one here, in Pike; +A keerless man in his talk was Jim, + And an awkward hand in a row, +But he never flunked, and he never lied,-- + I reckon he never knowed how. + +And this was all the religion he had,-- + To treat his engine well; +Never be passed on the river + To mind the pilot's bell; +And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire,-- + A thousand times he swore, +He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last soul got ashore. + +All boats has their day on the Mississip, + And her day come at last, +The Movastar was a better boat, + But the Belle she _would n't_ be passed. +And so she come tearin' along that night-- + The oldest craft on the line-- +With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, + And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. + +The fire bust out as she clared the bar, + And burnt a hole in the night, +And quick as a flash she turned, and made + For that willer-bank on the right. +There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, + Over all the infernal roar, +"I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last galoot's ashore." + +Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat + Jim Bludso's voice was heard, +And they all had trust in his cussedness, + And knowed he would keep his word. +And, sure's you're born, they all got off + Afore the smokestacks fell,-- +And Bludso's ghost went up alone + In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. + +He weren't no saint,--but at jedgment + I'd run my chance with Jim, +'Longside of some pious gentlemen + That wouldn't shook hands with him. +He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing,-- + And went for it thar and then; +And Christ ain't a going to be too hard + On a man that died for men. + + + +Little Breeches + + +I don't go much on religion, + I never ain't had no show; +But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, + On the handful o' things I know. +I don't pan out on the prophets + And free-will, and that sort of thing,-- +But I b'lieve in God and the angels, + Ever sence one night last spring. + +I come into town with some turnips, + And my little Gabe come along,-- +No four-year-old in the county + Could beat him for pretty and strong, +Peart and chipper and sassy, + Always ready to swear and fight,-- +And I'd larnt him to chaw terbacker + Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. + +The snow come down like a blanket + As I passed by Taggart's store; +I went in for a jug of molasses + And left the team at the door. +They scared at something and started,-- + I heard one little squall, +And hell-to-split over the prairie + Went team, Little Breeches and all. + +Hell-to-split over the prairie! + I was almost froze with skeer; +But we rousted up some torches, + And sarched for 'em far and near. +At last we struck hosses and wagon, + Snowed under a soft white mound, +Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe + No hide nor hair was found. + +And here all hope soured on me, + Of my fellow-critter's aid,-- +I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, + Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. + + * * * * * + +By this, the torches was played out, + And me and Isrul Parr +Went off for some wood to a sheepfold + That he said was somewhar thar. + +We found it at last, and a little shed + Where they shut up the lambs at night. +We looked in and seen them huddled thar, + So warm and sleepy and white; +And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, + As peart as ever you see, +"I want a chaw of terbacker, + And that's what's the matter of me." + +How did he git thar? Angels. + He could never have walked in that storm +They jest scooped down and toted him + To whar it was safe and warm. +And I think that saving a little child, + And fotching him to his own, +Is a derned sight better business + Than loafing around The Throne. + + + +Banty Tim + +(Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to The White Man's Committee of Spunky +Point, Illinois.) + + +I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- + You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; +This is a white man's country; + You're Dimocrats, you say; +And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, + The times bein' all out o' j'int, +The nigger has got to mosey + From the limits o' Spunky P'int! + +Le's reason the thing a minute: + I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, +Though I laid my politics out o' the way + For to keep till the war was through. +But I come back here, allowin' + To vote as I used to do, +Though it gravels me like the devil to train + Along o' sich fools as you. + +Now dog my cats ef I kin see, + In all the light of the day, +What you've got to do with the question + Ef Tim shill go or stay. +And furder than that I give notice, + Ef one of you tetches the boy, +He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime + Than he'll find in Illanoy, + +Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! + You know that ungodly day +When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped + And torn and tattered we lay. +When the rest retreated I stayed behind, + Fur reasons sufficient to me,-- +With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, + I sprawled on that cursed glacee. + +Lord! how the hot sun went for us, + And br'iled and blistered and burned! +How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us + When a cuss in his death-grip turned! +Till along toward dusk I seen a thing + I couldn't believe for a spell: +That nigger--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me + Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! + +The Rebels seen him as quick as me, + And the bullets buzzed like bees; +But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, + Though a shot brought him once to his knees; +But he staggered up, and packed me off, + With a dozen stumbles and falls, +Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, + His black hide riddled with balls. + +So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, + And here stays Banty Tim: +He trumped Death's ace for me that day, + And I'm not goin' back on him! +You may rezoloot till the cows come home + But ef one of you tetches the boy, +He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell. + Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! + + + +The Mystery of Gilgal + + +The darkest, strangest mystery +I ever read, or heern, or see, +Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall,-- + Tom Taggart's of Gilgal. + +I've heern the tale a thousand ways, +But never could git through the maze +That hangs around that queer day's doin's; + But I'll tell the yarn to youans. + +Tom Taggart stood behind his bar, +The time was fall, the skies was fa'r, +The neighbors round the counter drawed, + And ca'mly drinked and jawed. + +At last come Colonel Blood of Pike, +And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like, +And each, as he meandered in, + Remarked, "A whisky-skin" + +Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r, +And slammed it, smoking, on the bar. +Some says three fingers, some says two,-- + I'll leave the choice to you. + +Phinn to the drink put forth his hand; +Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland, +"I ax yer parding, Mister Phinn-- + Jest drap that whisky-skin." + +No man high-toneder could be found +Than old Jedge Phinn the country round. +Says he, "Young man, the tribe of Phinns + Knows their own whisky-skins!" + +He went for his 'leven-inch bowie-knife:-- +"I tries to foller a Christian life; +But I'll drap a slice of liver or two, + My bloomin' shrub, with you." + +They carved in a way that all admired, +Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired. +It took Seth Bludso 'twixt the eyes, + Which caused him great surprise. + +Then coats went off, and all went in; +Shots and bad language swelled the din; +The short, sharp bark of Derringers, + Like bull-pups, cheered the furse. + +They piled the stiffs outside the door; +They made, I reckon, a cord or more. +Girls went that winter, as a rule, + Alone to spellin'-school. + +I've sarched in vain, from Dan to Beer- +Sheba, to make this mystery clear; +But I end with _hit_ as I did begin,-- + WHO GOT THE WHISKY-SKIN?" + + + +Golyer + + +Ef the way a man lights out of this world + Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, +I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben +Will lay over lots of likelier men + For one thing he done down here. + +You didn't know Ben? He driv a stage + On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; +He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, + And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean,-- +No better nor worse than the rest. + +He was hard on women and rough on his friends; + And he didn't have many, I'll let you know; +He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, +But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, + And I guess there's many jess so. + +I've seed my sheer of the run of things, + I've hoofed it a many and many a miled, +But I never seed nothing that could or can +Jest git all the good from the heart of a man + Like the hands of a little child. + +Well! this young one I started to tell you about,-- + His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through,-- +He was just at the age that's loudest for boys, +And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice, + We called him "the Little Boy Blue." + +He ketched a sight of Ben on the box, + And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, +For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; +I tried to tell him it wouldn't do, + When suddingly Golyer growled, + +"What's the use of making the young one cry? + Say, what's the use of being a fool? +Sling the little one up here whar he can see, +He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me,-- + The night ain't any too cool." + +The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; + "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." +And jest as nice as a woman could do, +He wrapped his blanket around them + And was off in the crack of a whip. + +We rattled along an hour or so, + Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. +Did you ever hear an Apache yell? +Well, ye needn't want to, _this_ side of hell; + There's nothing more devilish there. + +Caught in the shower of lead and flint + We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; +Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben, +As he gethered his critters up again, + And tore away with a lunge. + +The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right, + He's druv five year and never was struck." +"Now if _I_'d been thar, as sure as you live, +They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as _a_ sieve; + It's the reg'lar Golyer luck." + +Over hill and holler and ford and creek + Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; +We got to Looney's, and Ben come in +And laid down the baby and axed for his gin, + And dropped in a heap on the floor. + +Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid,-- + Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; +And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball,-- +Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." +Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall,-- + And he carried his thanks to God + + + +The Pledge at Spunky Point + +A Tale of Earnest Effort and Human Perfidy. + + +It's all very well for preaching + But preachin' and practice don't gee: +I've give the thing a fair trial, + And you can't ring it in on me. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + Ef that's what you want me to sign; +Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, + And I'll not take any in mine. + +A year ago last Fo'th July + A lot of the boys was here. +We all got corned and signed the pledge + For to drink no more that year. +There was Tilman Joy and Sheriff McPhail + And me and Abner Fry, +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. + +And we anteed up a hundred + In the hands of Deacon Kedge +For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th + 'Mongst the boys that kep' the pledge. +And we knowed each other so well, Squire, + You may take my scalp for a fool, +Ef every man when he signed his name + Didn't feel cock-sure of the pool. + +Fur a while it all went lovely; + We put up a job next day +Fur to make Joy b'lieve his wife was dead, + And he went home middlin' gay; +Then Abner Fry he killed a man + And afore he was hung McPhail +Jest bilked the widder outen her sheer + By getting him slewed in jail. + +But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, + The egg-nogs gethered him in; +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + Was, New Year's, tight as sin; +And along in March the Golyers + Got so drunk that a fresh-biled owl +Would 'a' looked 'long-side o' them two young men, + Like a sober temperance fowl. + +Four months alone I walked the chalk, + I thought my heart would break; +And all them boys a-slappin' my back + And axin', "What'll you take?" +I never slep' without dreamin' dreams + Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, +But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore + I'd rake that pool or die. + +At last--the Fo'th--I humped myself + Through chores and breakfast soon, +Then scooted down to Taggarts' store-- + For the pledge was off at noon; +And all the boys was gethered thar, + And each man hilt his glass-- +Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like + Fur to see the last minute pass. + +The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug + And took one lovin' pull +I was holler clar from skull to boots, + It seemed I couldn't git full. +But I was roused by a fiendish laugh + That might have raised the dead-- +Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock + A half an hour ahead! + +"All right!" I squawked. "You've got me, + Jest order your drinks agin, +And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's + And scoop the ante in." +But when we got to Kedge's, + What a sight was that we saw! +The Deacon and Parson Skeeters + In the tail of a game of Draw. + +They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', + The Parson's luck was fa'r, +And he raked, the minute we got thar, + The last of our pool on a pa'r. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + I 'low it's all very fine, +But ez fur myself, I thank ye, + I'll not take any in mine. + + + + +Wanderlieder. + + + +Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + +(Paris, _August_, 1865.) + + +I stand at the break of day + In the Champs Elysées. +The tremulous shafts of dawning +As they shoot o'er the Tuileries early, +Strike Luxor's cold gray spire, +And wild in the light of the morning +With their marble manes on fire, +Ramp the white Horses of Marly. + +But the Place of Concord lies +Dead hushed 'neath the ashy skies. +And the Cities sit in council +With sleep in their wide stone eyes. +I see the mystic plain +Where the army of spectres slain +In the Emperor's life-long war +March on with unsounding tread +To trumpets whose voice is dead. +Their spectral chief still leads them,-- +The ghostly flash of his sword +Like a comet through mist shines far,-- +And the noiseless host is poured, +For the gendarme never heeds them, +Up the long dim road where thundered +The army of Italy onward +Through the great pale Arch of the Star! + +The spectre army fades +Far up the glimmering hill, +But, vaguely lingering still, +A group of shuddering shades +Infects the pallid air, +Growing dimmer as day invades +The hush of the dusky square. +There is one that seems a King, +As if the ghost of a Crown +Still shadowed his jail-bleached hair; +I can hear the guillotine ring, +As its regicide note rang there, +When he laid his tired life down +And grew brave in his last despair. +And a woman frail and fair +Who weeps at leaving a world +Of love and revel and sin +In the vast Unknown to be hurled; +(For life was wicked and sweet +With kings at her small white feet!) +And one, every inch a Queen, +In life and in death a Queen, +Whose blood baptized the place, +In the days of madness and fear,-- +Her shade has never a peer +In majesty and grace. + +Murdered and murderers swarm; +Slayers that slew and were slain, +Till the drenched place smoked with the rain +That poured in a torrent warm,-- +Till red as the Rider's of Edom +Were splashed the white garments of Freedom +With the wash of the horrible storm! + +And Liberty's hands were not clean +In the day of her pride unchained, +Her royal hands were stained +With the life of a King and Queen; +And darker than that with the blood +Of the nameless brave and good +Whose blood in witness clings +More damning than Queens' and Kings'. + +Has she not paid it dearly? +Chained, watching her chosen nation +Grinding late and early +In the mills of usurpation? +Have not her holy tears +Flowing through shameful years, +Washed the stains from her tortured hands? +We thought so when God's fresh breeze, +Blowing over the sleeping lands, +In 'Forty-Eight waked the world, +And the Burgher-King was hurled +From that palace behind the trees. + +As Freedom with eyes aglow +Smiled glad through her childbirth pain, +How was the mother to know +That her woe and travail were vain? +A smirking servant smiled +When she gave him her child to keep; +Did she know he would strangle the child +As it lay in his arms asleep? + +Liberty's cruellest shame! +She is stunned and speechless yet +In her grief and bloody sweat +Shall we make her trust her blame? +The treasure of 'Forty-Eight +A lurking jail-bird stole, +She can but watch and wait +As the swift sure seasons roll. + +And when in God's good hour +Comes the time of the brave and true, +Freedom again shall rise +With a blaze in her awful eyes +That shall wither this robber-power +As the sun now dries the dew. +This Place shall roar with the voice +Of the glad triumphant people, +And the heavens be gay with the chimes +Ringing with jubilant noise +From every clamorous steeple +The coming of better times. +And the dawn of Freedom waking +Shall fling its splendors far +Like the day which now is breaking +On the great pale Arch of the Star, +And back o'er the town shall fly, +While the joy-bells wild are ringing, +To crown the Glory springing +From the Column of July! + + + +The Sphinx of the Tuileries + + +Out of the Latin Quarter + I came to the lofty door +Where the two marble Sphinxes guard + The Pavilion de Flore. +Two Cockneys stood by the gate, and one + Observed, as they turned to go, +"No wonder He likes that sort of thing,-- + He's a Sphinx himself, you know." + +I thought as I walked where the garden glowed + In the sunset's level fire, +Of the Charlatan whom the Frenchmen loathe + And the Cockneys all admire. +They call him a Sphinx,--it pleases him,-- + And if we narrowly read, +We will find some truth in the flunkey's praise, + The man is a Sphinx indeed. + +For the Sphinx with breast of woman + And face so debonair +Had the sleek false paws of a lion, + That could furtively seize and tear. +So far to the shoulders,--but if you took + The Beast in reverse you would find +The ignoble form of a craven cur + Was all that lay behind. + +She lived by giving to simple folk + A silly riddle to read, +And when they failed she drank their blood + In cruel and ravenous greed. +But at last came one who knew her word, + And she perished in pain and shame,-- +This bastard Sphinx leads the same base life + And his end will be the same. + +For an Oedipus-People is coming fast + With swelled feet limping on, +If they shout his true name once aloud + His false foul power is gone. +Afraid to fight and afraid to fly, + He cowers in an abject shiver; +The people will come to their own at last,-- + God is not mocked forever. + + + +The Surrender of Spain + + +I. + +Land of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campeador! +Sea-girdled mother of men! Spain, name of glory and power; +Cradle of world-grasping Emperors, grave of the reckless invader, +How art thou fallen, my Spain! how art thou sunk at this hour! + + +II. + +Once thy magnanimous sons trod, victors, the portals of Asia, +Once the Pacific waves rushed, joyful thy banners to see; +For it was Trajan that carried the battle-flushed eagles to Dacia, +Cortés that planted thy flag fast by the uttermost sea. + +III. + +Has thou forgotten those days illumined with glory and honor, +When the far isles of the sea thrilled to the tread of Castile? +When every land under Heaven was flecked by the shade of thy banner,-- +When every beam of the sun flashed on thy conquering steel? + +IV. + +Then through red fields of slaughter, through death and defeat and disaster, +Still flared thy banner aloft, tattered, but free from a stain, +Now to the upstart Savoyard thou bendest to beg for a master! +How the red flush of her shame mars the proud beauty of Spain! + + +V. + +Has the red blood run cold that boiled by the Xenil and Darro? +Are the high deeds of the sires sung to the children no more? +On the dun hills of the North hast thou heard of no plough-boy Pizarro? +Roams no young swine-herd Cortés hid by the Tagus' wild shore? + + +VI. + +Once again does Hispania bend low to the yoke of the stranger! +Once again will she rise, flinging her gyves in the sea! +Princeling of Piedmont! unwitting thou weddest with doubt and with danger, +King over men who have learned all that it costs to be free. + + + +The Prayer of The Romans + + +Not done, but near its ending, + Is the work that our eyes desired; +Not yet fulfilled, but near the goal, + Is the hope that our worn hearts fired. +And on the Alban Mountains, + Where the blushes of dawn increase, +We see the flash of the beautiful feet + Of Freedom and of Peace! + +How long were our fond dreams baffled!-- + Novara's sad mischance, +The Kaiser's sword and fetter-lock, + And the traitor stab of France; +Till at last came glorious Venice, + In storm and tempest home; +And now God maddens the greedy kings, + And gives to her people Rome. + +Lame Lion of Caprera! + Red-shirts of the lost campaigns! +Not idly shed was the costly blood + You poured from generous veins. +For the shame of Aspromonte, + And the stain of Mentana's sod, +But forged the curse of kings that sprang + From your breaking hearts to God! + +We lift our souls to thee, O Lord + Of Liberty and of Light! +Let not earth's kings pollute the work + That was done in their despite; +Let not thy light be darkened + In the shade of a sordid crown, +Nor pampered swine devour the fruit + Thou shook'st with an earthquake down! + +Let the People come to their birthright, + And crosier and crown pass away +Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes + At the glance of the clean, white day. +And then from the lava of Aetna + To the ice of the Alps let there be +One freedom, one faith without fetters, + One republic in Italy free! + + + +The Curse of Hungary + + +Saloman looked from his donjon bars, +Where the Danube clamors through sedge and sand, +And he cursed with a curse his revolting land,-- +With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. + +He said: "May this false land know no truth! +May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, +And a greed of glory but live to nourish +Envy and hate in its restless youth. + +"In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust, +While the sword grows bright with its fatal labor, +And blackens between each man and neighbor-- +The perilous cloud of a vague distrust! + +"Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, +And each to the other as unknown things, +That with links of hatred and pride the kings +May forge firm fetters through each for all! + +"May a king wrong them as they wronged their king! +May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, +Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, +And to women and monks their birthright fling!" + +The mad king died; but the rushing river +Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, +And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands +That the curse of King Saloman works forever. + +For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers +Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts +That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts,-- +A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears! + +And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, +Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, +As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown +And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. + +And latest they saw in the summer glare +The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, +To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, +A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. + +But ever the same sad play they saw, +The same weak worship of sword and crown, +The noble crushing the humble down, +And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law. + +The donjon stands by the turbid river, +But Time is crumbling its battered towers; +And the slow light withers a despot's powers, +And a mad king's curse is not forever! + + + +The Monks of Basle + + +I tore this weed from the rank, dark soil + Where it grew in the monkish time, +I trimmed it close and set it again + In a border of modern rhyme. + + +I. + +Long years ago, when the Devil was loose + And faith was sorely tried, +Three monks of Basle went out to walk + In the quiet eventide. + +A breeze as pure as the breath of Heaven + Blew fresh through the cloister-shades, +A sky as glad as the smile of Heaven + Blushed rose o'er the minster-glades. + +But scorning the lures of summer and sense, + The monks passed on in their walk; +Their eyes were abased, their senses slept, + Their souls were in their talk. + +In the tough grim talk of the monkish days + They hammered and slashed about,-- +Dry husks of logic,--old scraps of creed,-- + And the cold gray dreams of doubt,-- + +And whether Just or Justified + Was the Church's mystic Head,-- +And whether the Bread was changed to God, + Or God became the Bread + +But of human hearts outside their walls + They never paused to dream, +And they never thought of the love of God + That smiled in the twilight gleam. + +II. + +As these three monks went bickering on + By the foot of a spreading tree, +Out from its heart of verdurous gloom + A song burst wild and free,-- + +A wordless carol of life and love, + Of nature free and wild; +And the three monks paused in the evening shade + Looked up at each other and smiled. + +And tender and gay the bird sang on, + And cooed and whistled and trilled, +And the wasteful wealth of life and love + From his happy heart was spilled. + +The song had power on the grim old monks + In the light of the rosy skies; +And as they listened the years rolled back, + And tears came into their eyes. + +The years rolled back and they were young, + With the hearts and hopes of men, +They plucked the daisies and kissed the girls + Of dear dead summers again. + + +III. + +But the eldest monk soon broke the spell; + "'Tis sin and shame," quoth he, +"To be turned from talk of holy things + By a bird's cry from a tree. + +"Perchance the Enemy of Souls + Hath come to tempt us so. +Let us try by the power of the Awful Word + If it be he, or no!" + +To Heaven the three monks raised their hands + "We charge thee, speak!" they said, +"By His dread Name who shall one day come + To judge the quick and the dead,-- + +"Who art thou? Speak!" The bird laughed loud + "I am the Devil," he said. +The monks on their faces fell, the bird + Away through the twilight sped. + +A horror fell on those holy men, + (The faithful legends say,) +And one by one from the face of earth + They pined and vanished away. + + +IV. + +So goes the tale of the monkish books, + The moral who runs may read,-- +He has no ears for Nature's voice + Whose soul is the slave of creed. + +Not all in vain with beauty and love + Has God the world adorned; +And he who Nature scorns and mocks, + By Nature is mocked and scorned. + + + +The Enchanted Shirt + + + Fytte the First: _wherein it shall be shown how the Truth is too mighty + a Drug for such as he of feeble temper_. + + +The King was sick. His cheek was red + And his eye was clear and bright; +He ate and drank with a kingly zest, + And peacefully snored at night. + +But he said he was sick, and a king should know, + And doctors came by the score. +They did not cure him. He cut off their heads + And sent to the schools for more. + +At last two famous doctors came, + And one was as poor as a rat, +He had passed his life in studious toil, + And never found time to grow fat. + +The other had never looked in a book; + His patients gave him no trouble, +If they recovered they paid him well, + If they died their heirs paid double. + +Together they looked at the royal tongue, + As the King on his couch reclined; +In succession they thumped his august chest, + But no trace of disease could find. + +The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." + "Hang him up," roared the King in a gale,-- +In a ten-knot gale of royal rage; + The other leech grew a shade pale; + +But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, + And thus his prescription ran,-- +_King will be well, if he sleeps one night + In the Shirt of a Happy Man_. + + + Fytte the Second: _tells of the search for the Shirt and how it was nigh + found but was not, for reasons which are said or sung_. + +Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, + And fast their horses ran, +And many they saw, and to many they spoke, + But they found no Happy Man. + +They found poor men who would fain be rich, + And rich who thought they were poor; +And men who twisted their waists in stays, + And women that shorthose wore. + +They saw two men by the roadside sit, + And both bemoaned their lot; +For one had buried his wife, he said, + And the other one had not. + +At last as they came to a village gate, + A beggar lay whistling there; +He whistled and sang and laughed and rolled + On the grass in the soft June air. + +The weary couriers paused and looked + At the scamp so blithe and gay; +And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend! + You seem to be happy to-day." + +"O yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed + And his voice rang free and glad, +"An idle man has so much to do + That he never has time to be sad." + +"This is our man," the courier said; + "Our luck has led us aright. +"I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, + For the loan of your shirt to-night." + +The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, + And laughed till his face was black; +"I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun, + "But I haven't a shirt to my back." + + + Fytte the Third: _shewing how His Majesty the King came at last to sleep + in a Happy Man his Shirt_. + +Each day to the King the reports came in + Of his unsuccessful spies, +And the sad panorama of human woes + Passed daily under his eyes. + +And he grew ashamed of his useless life, + And his maladies hatched in gloom; +He opened his windows and let the air + Of the free heaven into his room. + +And out he went in the world and toiled + In his own appointed way; +And the people blessed him, the land was glad, + And the King was well and gay. + + + +A Woman's Love + + +A sentinel angel sitting high in glory +Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: +"Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! + +"I loved,--and, blind with passionate love, I fell. +Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. +For God is just, and death for sin is well. + +"I do not rage against his high decree, +Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be; +But for my love on earth who mourns for me. + +"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again; +And comfort him one hour, and I were fain +To pay a thousand years of fire and pain." + +Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent +That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent +Down to the last hour of thy punishment!" + +But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go! +I cannot rise to peace and leave him so. +O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!" + +The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, +And upward, joyous, like a rising star, +She rose and vanished in the ether far. + +But soon adown the dying sunset sailing, +And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing, +She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing. + +She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea +Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,-- +She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!" + +She wept, "Now let my punishment begin! +I have been fond and foolish. Let me in +To expiate my sorrow and my sin." + +The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher! +To be deceived in your true heart's desire +Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!" + + + +On Pitz Languard + + +I stood on the top of Pitz Languard, + And heard three voices whispering low, +Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward + Made swift dark shadows upon the snow. + + +_First voice_. + +I loved a girl with truth and pain, + She loved me not. When she said good by +She gave me a kiss to sting and stain + My broken life to a rosy dye. + + +_Second voice_. + +I loved a woman with love well tried,-- + And I swear I believe she loves me still. +But it was not I who stood by her side + When she answered the priest and said "I will." + + +_Third voice._ + +I loved two girls, one fond, one shy, + And I never divined which one loved me. +One married, and now, though I can't tell why. + Of the four in the story I count but three. + + +The three weird voices whispered low + Where the eagles swept in their circling ward; +But only one shadow scarred the snow + As I clambered down from Pitz Languard. + + + +Boudoir Prophecies + + +One day in the Tuileries, + When a southwest Spanish breeze + Brought scandalous news of the Queen, +The fair proud Empress said, +"My good friend loses her head; + If matters go on this way, + I shall see her shopping, some day, + In the Boulevard des Capucines." + +The saying swiftly went +To the Place of the Orient, + And the stout Queen sneered, "Ah, well! + You are proud and prude, ma belle! +But I think I will hazard a guess +I shall see you one day playing chess + With the Curé of Carabanchel." + +Both ladies, though not over-wise, +Were lucky in prophecies. + For the Boulevard shopmen well + Know the form of stout Isabel + As she buys her modes de Paris; +And after Sedan in despair +The Empress prude and fair +Went to visit Madame sa Mère + In her villa at Carabanchel-- + But the Queen was not there to see. + + + +A Triumph of Order + + +A Squad of regular infantry + In the Commune's closing days, +Had captured a crowd of rebels + By the wall of Père-la-Chaise. + +There were desperate men, wild women, + And dark-eyed Amazon girls, +And one little boy, with a peach-down cheek + And yellow clustering curls. + +The captain seized the little waif, + And said, "What dost thou here?" +"Sapristi, Citizen captain! + I'm a Communist, my dear!" + +"Very well! Then you die with the others!" + --"Very well! That's my affair; +But first let me take to my mother, + Who lives by the wine-shop there, + +"My father's watch. You see it; + A gay old thing, is it not? +It would please the old lady to have it, + Then I'll come back here, and be shot. + +"That is the last we shall see of him," + The grizzled captain grinned, +As the little man skimmed down the hill, + Like a swallow down the wind. + +For the joy of killing had lost its zest + In the glut of those awful days, +And Death writhed, gorged like a greedy snake, + From the Arch to Père-la-Chaise. + +But before the last platoon had fired, + The child's shrill voice was heard; +"Houp-là! the old girl made such a row + I feared I should break my word." + +Against the bullet-pitted wall + He took his place with the rest, +A button was lost from his ragged blouse, + Which showed his soft white breast. + +"Now blaze away, my children! + With your little one-two-three!" +The Chassepots tore the stout young heart, + And saved Society. + + + +Ernst of Edelsheim + + +I'll tell the story, kissing + This white hand for my pains: +No sweeter heart, nor falser + E'er filled such fine, blue veins. + +I'll sing a song of true love, + My Lilith dear! to you; +_Contraria contrariis_-- + The rule is old and true. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim; +And why he was the happiest, + I'll tell you in my rhyme. + +One summer night he wandered + Within a lonely glade, +And, couched in moss and moonlight, + He found a sleeping maid. + +The stars of midnight sifted + Above her sands of gold; +She seemed a slumbering statue, + So fair and white and cold. + +Fair and white and cold she lay + Beneath the starry skies; +Rosy was her waking + Beneath the Ritter's eyes. + +He won her drowsy fancy, + He bore her to his towers, +And swift with love and laughter + Flew morning's purpled hours. + +But when the thickening sunbeams + Had drunk the gleaming dew, +A misty cloud of sorrow + Swept o'er her eyes' deep blue. + +She hung upon the Ritter's neck, +S he wept with love and pain, +She showered her sweet, warm kisses + Like fragrant summer rain. + +"I am no Christian soul," she sobbed, + As in his arms she lay; +"I'm half the day a woman, + A serpent half the day. + +"And when from yonder bell-tower + Rings out the noonday chime, +Farewell! farewell forever, + Sir Ernst of Edelsheim!" + +"Ah! not farewell forever!" + The Ritter wildly cried, +"I will be saved or lost with thee, + My lovely Wili-Bride!" + +Loud from the lordly bell-tower + Rang out the noon of day, +And from the bower of roses + A serpent slid away. + +But when the mid-watch moonlight + Was shimmering through the grove, +He clasped his bride thrice dowered + With beauty and with love. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim-- +His true love was a serpent + Only half the time! + + + +My Castle in Spain + + +There was never a castle seen + So fair as mine in Spain: +It stands embowered in green, + Crowning the gentle slope +Of a hill by the Xenil's shore, +And at eve its shade flaunts o'er + The storied Vega plain, +And its towers are hid in the mists of Hope; + And I toil through years of pain + Its glimmering gates to gain. + +In visions wild and sweet +Sometimes its courts I greet: + Sometimes in joy its shining halls +I tread with favored feet; +But never my eyes in the light of day + Were blest with its ivied walls, +Where the marble white and the granite gray +Turn gold alike when the sunbeams play, + When the soft day dimly falls. + +I know in its dusky rooms + Are treasures rich and rare; +The spoil of Eastern looms, + And whatever of bright and fair +Painters divine have caught and won + From the vault of Italy's air: +White gods in Phidian stone + People the haunted glooms; +And the song of immortal singers +Like a fragrant memory lingers, + I know, in the echoing rooms. + +But nothing of these, my soul! + Nor castle, nor treasures, nor skies, +Nor the waves of the river that roll + With a cadence faint and sweet + In peace by its marble feet-- +Nothing of these is the goal + For which my whole heart sighs. +'Tis the pearl gives worth to the shell-- + The pearl I would die to gain; +For there does my lady dwell, +My love that I love so well-- + The Queen whose gracious reign + Makes glad my Castle in Spain. + +Her face so pure and fair + Sheds light in the shady places, +And the spell of her girlish graces + Holds charmed the happy air. +A breath of purity + Forever before her flies, +And ill things cease to be + In the glance of her honest eyes. +Around her pathway flutter, + Where her dear feet wander free + In youth's pure majesty, + The wings of the vague desires; +But the thought that love would utter + In reverence expires. + +Not yet! not yet shall I see + That face which shines like a star + O'er my storm-swept life afar, +Transfigured with love for me. +Toiling, forgetting, and learning +With labor and vigils and prayers, + Pure heart and resolute will, + At last I shall climb the hill +And breathe the enchanted airs +Where the light of my life is burning + Most lovely and fair and free, +Where alone in her youth and beauty, +And bound by her fate's sweet duty, + Unconscious she waits for me. + + + +Sister Saint Luke + + +She lived shut in by flowers and trees + And shade of gentle bigotries. +On this side lay the trackless sea, +On that the great world's mystery; +But all unseen and all unguessed +They could not break upon her rest. +The world's far splendors gleamed and flashed, +Afar the wild seas foamed and dashed; +But in her small, dull Paradise, +Safe housed from rapture or surprise, +Nor day nor night had power to fright +The peace of God that filled her eyes. + + + + +New and Old. + + + +Miles Keogh's Horse + + +On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn, + At the close of a woful day, +Custer and his Three Hundred + In death and silence lay. + +Three Hundred to three Thousand! + They had bravely fought and bled; +For such is the will of Congress + When the White man meets the Red. + +The White men are ten millions, + The thriftiest under the sun; +The Reds are fifty thousand, + And warriors every one. + +So Custer and all his fighting men + Lay under the evening skies, +Staring up at the tranquil heaven + With wide, accusing eyes. + +And of all that stood at noonday + In that fiery scorpion ring, +Miles Keogh's horse at evening + Was the only living thing. + +Alone from that field of slaughter, + Where lay the three hundred slain, +The horse Comanche wandered, + With Keogh's blood on his mane. + +And Sturgis issued this order, + Which future times shall read, +While the love and honor of comrades + Are the soul of the soldier's creed. + +He said-- + _Let the horse Comanche + Henceforth till he shall die, +Be kindly cherished and cared for + By the Seventh Cavalry + +He shall do no labor; he never shall know + The touch of spur or rein; +Nor shall his back be ever crossed + By living rider again + +And at regimental formation + Of the Seventh Cavalry_, +_Comanche draped in mourning and led + By a trooper of Company + +Shall parade with the Regiment!_ + + Thus it was + Commanded and thus done, +By order of General Sturgis, signed + By Adjutant Garlington. + +Even as the sword of Custer, + In his disastrous fall, +Flashed out a blaze that charmed the world + And glorified his pall, + +This order, issued amid the gloom + That shrouds our army's name, +When all foul beasts are free to rend + And tear its honest fame, + +Shall prove to a callous people + That the sense of a soldier's worth, +That the love of comrades, the honor of arms, + Have not yet perished from earth. + + + +The Advance Guard + + +In the dream of the Northern poets, + The brave who in battle die +Fight on in shadowy phalanx + In the field of the upper sky; +And as we read the sounding rhyme, + The reverent fancy hears +The ghostly ring of the viewless swords + And the clash of the spectral spears. + +We think with imperious questionings + Of the brothers whom we have lost, +And we strive to track in death's mystery + The flight of each valiant ghost. +The Northern myth comes back to us, + And we feel, through our sorrow's night, +That those young souls are striving still + Somewhere for the truth and light. + +It was not their time for rest and sleep; + Their hearts beat high and strong; +In their fresh veins the blood of youth + Was singing its hot, sweet song. +The open heaven bent over them, + Mid flowers their lithe feet trod, +Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest + By the smiles of women and God. + +Again they come! Again I hear + The tread of that goodly band; +I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye + And the grasp of his hard, warm hand; +And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart, + And an eye like a Boston girl's; +And I see the light of heaven which lay + On Ulric Dahlgren's curls. + +There is no power in the gloom of hell + To quench those spirits' fire; +There is no power in the bliss of heaven + To bid them not aspire; +But somewhere in the eternal plan + That strength, that life survive, +And like the files on Lookout's crest, + Above death's clouds they strive. + +A chosen corps, they are marching on + In a wider field than ours; +Those bright battalions still fulfill + The scheme of the heavenly powers; +And high brave thoughts float down to us, + The echoes of that far fight, +Like the flash of a distant picket's gun + Through the shades of the severing night. + +No fear for them! In our lower field + Let us keep our arms unstained, +That at last we be worthy to stand with them + On the shining heights they've gained. +We shall meet and greet in closing ranks + In Time's declining sun, +When the bugles of God shall sound recall + And the battle of life be won. + + + +Love's Prayer + + +If Heaven would hear my prayer, + My dearest wish would be, +Thy sorrows not to share + But take them all on me; +If Heaven would hear my prayer. + +I'd beg with prayers and sighs + That never a tear might flow +From out thy lovely eyes, + If Heaven might grant it so; +Mine be the tears and sighs. + +No cloud thy brow should cover, + But smiles each other chase +From lips to eyes all over + Thy sweet and sunny face; +The clouds my heart should cover. + +That all thy path be light + Let darkness fall on me; +If all thy days be bright, + Mine black as night could be; +My love would light my night. + +For thou art more than life, + And if our fate should set +Life and my love at strife, + How could I then forget +I love thee more than life? + + + +Christine + + +The beauty of the northern dawns, + Their pure, pale light is thine; +Yet all the dreams of tropic nights + Within thy blue eyes shine. +Not statelier in their prisoning seas + The icebergs grandly move, +But in thy smile is youth and joy, + And in thy voice is love. + +Thou art like Hecla's crest that stands + So lonely, proud, and high, +No earthly thing may come between + Her summit and the sky. +The sun in vain may strive to melt + Her crown of virgin snow-- +But the great heart of the mountain glows + With deathless fire below. + + + +Expectation + + +Roll on, O shining sun, + To the far seas, +Bring down, ye shades of eve, + The soft, salt breeze! +Shine out, O stars, and light +My darling's pathway bright, +As through the summer night + She comes to me. + +No beam of any star + Can match her eyes; +Her smile the bursting day + In light outvies. +Her voice--the sweetest thing +Heard by the raptured spring +When waking wild-woods ring-- + She comes to me. + +Ye stars, more swiftly wheel, + O'er earth's still breast; +More wildly plunge and reel + In the dim west! +The earth is lone and lorn, +Till the glad day be born, +Till with the happy morn + She comes to me. + + + +To Flora + + +When April woke the drowsy flowers, + And vagrant odors thronged the breeze, +And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, + And daisies flashed along the leas, +And faint arbutus strove among + Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise, +And nature's sweetly jubilant song + Went murmuring up the sunny skies, +Into this cheerful world you came, +And gained by right your vernal name. + +I think the springs have changed of late, + For "Arctics" are my daily wear, +The skies are turned to cold gray slate, + And zephyrs are but draughts of air; +But you make up whatever we lack, + When we, too rarely, come together, +More potent than the almanac, + You bring the ideal April weather; +When you are with us we defy +The blustering air, the lowering sky; +In spite of Winter's icy darts, +We've spring and sunshine in our hearts. + +In fine, upon this April day, + This deep conundrum I will bring: +Tell me the two good reasons, pray, + I have, to say you are like spring? + +[You give it up?] Because we love you-- + And see so very little of you. + + + +A Haunted Room + + +In the dim chamber whence but yesterday + Passed my belovèd, filled with awe I stand; + And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand +Whisper her praises who is far away. +A thousand delicate fancies glance and play + On every object which her robes have fanned, + And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand +In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray. +Ah! could that glass but hold the faintest trace + Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, + The clustering glory of the shadowy hair +That framed so well the dear young angel face! + But no, it shows my own face, full of care, +And my heart is her beauty's dwelling-place. + + + +Dreams + + +I love a woman tenderly, +But cannot know if she loves me. +I press her hand, her lips I kiss, +But still love's full assurance miss, +Our waking life forever seems +Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams. + +But love and night and sleep combine +In dreams to make her wholly mine. +A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, +Her hands and lips are warm and true. +Always the fact unreal seems, +And truth I find alone in dreams. + + + +The Light of Love + + +Each shining light above us + Has its own peculiar grace; +But every light of heaven + Is in my darling's face. + +For it is like the sunlight, + So strong and pure and warm, +That folds all good and happy things, + And guards from gloom and harm. + +And it is like the moonlight, + So holy and so calm; +The rapt peace of a summer night, + When soft winds die in balm. + +And it is like the starlight; + For, love her as I may, +She dwells still lofty and serene + In mystery far away. + + + +Quand-Même + + +I strove, like Israel, with my youth, + And said, Till thou bestow +Upon my life Love's joy and truth, + I will not let thee go. + +And sudden on my night there woke + The trouble of the dawn; +Out of the east the red light broke, + To broaden on and on. + +And now let death be far or nigh, + Let fortune gloom or shine, +I cannot all untimely die, + For love, for love is mine. + +My days are tuned to finer chords, + And lit by higher suns;, +Through all my thoughts and all my words + A purer purpose runs. + +The blank page of my heart grows rife + With wealth of tender lore; +Her image, stamped upon my life, + Gives value evermore. + +She is so noble, firm, and true, + I drink truth from her eyes, +As violets gain the heaven's own blue + In gazing at the skies. + +No matter if my hands attain + The golden crown or cross +Only to love is such a gain + That losing is not loss. + +And thus whatever fate betide + Of rapture or of pain, +If storm or sun the future hide, + My love is not in vain. + +So only thanks are on my lips; + And through my love I see +My earliest dreams, like freighted ships, + Come sailing home to me. + + + +Words + + +When violets were springing + And sunshine filled the day, +And happy birds were singing + The praises of the May, +A word came to me, blighting + The beauty of the scene, +And in my heart was winter, + Though all the trees were green. + +Now down the blast go sailing + The dead leaves, brown and sere; +The forests are bewailing + The dying of the year; +A word comes to me, lighting + With rapture all the air, +And in my heart is summer, + Though all the trees are bare. + + + +The Stirrup Cup + + +My short and happy day is done, +The long and dreary night comes on; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To carry me to unknown lands. + +His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof, +Sound dreadful as a gathering storm; +And I must leave this sheltering roof, +And joys of life so soft and warm. + +Tender and warm the joys of life,-- +Good friends, the faithful and the true; +My rosy children and my wife, +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view. + +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view,-- +The night comes down, the lights burn blue; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To bear me forth to unknown lands. + + + +A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + + +[C.K. _loquitur_.] + +I dreamed I was in fair Niphon. +Amid tea-fields I journeyed on, +Reclined in my jinrikishaw; +Across the rolling plains I saw +The lordly Fusi-yama rise, +His blue cone lost in bluer skies. + +At last I bade my bearers stop +Before what seemed a china-shop. +I roused myself and entered in. +A fearful joy, like some sweet sin, +Pierced through my bosom as I gazed, +Entranced, transported, and amazed. + +For all the house was but one room, +And in its clear and grateful gloom, +Filled with all odors strange and strong +That to the wondrous East belong, +I saw above, around, below, +A sight to make the warm heart glow, +And leave the eager soul no lack, +An endless wealth of bric-a-brac. + +I saw bronze statues, old and rare, +Fashioned by no mere mortal skill, +With robes that fluttered in the air, +Blown out by Art's eternal will; +And delicate ivory netsukes, +Richer in tone than Cheddar cheese, +Of saints and hermits, cats and dogs, +Grim warriors and ecstatic frogs. + +And here and there those wondrous masks, +More living flesh than sandal-wood, +Where the full soul in pleasure basks +And dreams of love, the only good. +The walls were all with pictures hung: +Gay villas bright in rain-washed air, +Trees to whose boughs brown monkeys clung, +Outlineless dabs of fuzzy hair. +And all about the opulent shelves +Littered with porcelain beyond price: +Imari pots arrayed themselves +Beside Ming dishes; grain-of-rice +Vied with the Royal Satsuma, +Proud of its sallow ivory beam; +And Kaga's Thousand Hermits lay +Tranced in some punch-bowl's golden gleam. +Over bronze censers, black with age, +The five-clawed dragons strife engage; +A curled and insolent Dog of Foo +Sniffs at the smoke aspiring through. + +In what old days, in what far lands, +What busy brains, what cunning hands, +With what quaint speech, what alien thought, +Strange fellow-men these marvels wrought! + +As thus I mused, I was aware +There grew before my eager eyes +A little maid too bright and fair, +Too strangely lovely for surprise. +It seemed the beauty of the place +Had suddenly become concrete, +So full was she of Orient grace, +From her slant eyes and burnished face +Down to her little gold-bronze feet. + +She was a girl of old Japan; +Her small hand held a gilded fan, +Which scattered fragrance through the room; +Her cheek was rich with pallid bloom, +Her eye was dark with languid fire, +Her red lips breathed a vague desire; +Her teeth, of pearl inviolate, +Sweetly proclaimed her maiden state. +Her garb was stiff with broidered gold +Twined with mysterious fold on fold, +That gave no hint where, hidden well, +Her dainty form might warmly dwell,-- +A pearl within too large a shell. +So quaint, so short, so lissome, she, +It seemed as if it well might be +Some jocose god, with sportive whirl, +Had taken up a long lithe girl +And tied a graceful knot in her. +I tried to speak, and found, oh, bliss! +I needed no interpreter; +I knew the Japanese for kiss,-- +I had no other thought but this; +And she, with smile and blush divine, +Kind to my stammering prayer did seem; +My thought was hers, and hers was mine, +In the swift logic of my dream. +My arms clung round her slender waist, +Through gold and silk the form I traced, +And glad as rain that follows drouth, +I kissed and kissed her bright red mouth. + +What ailed the girl? No loving sigh +Heaved the round bosom; in her eye +Trembled no tear; from her dear throat +Bubbled a sweet and silvery note +Of girlish laughter, shrill and clear, +That all the statues seemed to hear. +The bronzes tinkled laughter fine; +I heard a chuckle argentine +Ring from the silver images; +Even the ivory netsukes +Uttered in every silent pause +Dry, bony laughs from tiny jaws; +The painted monkeys on the wall +Waked up with chatter impudent; +Pottery, porcelain, bronze, and all +Broke out in ghostly merriment,-- +Faint as rain pattering on dry leaves, +Or cricket's chirp on summer eves. + +And suddenly upon my sight +There grew a portent: left and right, +On every side, as if the air +Had taken substance then and there, +In every sort of form and face, +A throng of tourists filled the place. +I saw a Frenchman's sneering shrug; +A German countess, in one hand +A sky-blue string which held a pug, +With the other a fiery face she fanned; +A Yankee with a soft felt hat; +A Coptic priest from Ararat; +An English girl with cheeks of rose; +A Nihilist with Socratic nose; +Paddy from Cork with baggage light +And pockets stuffed with dynamite; +A haughty Southern Readjuster +Wrapped in his pride and linen duster; +Two noisy New York stock-brokèrs +And twenty British globe-trottèrs. +To my disgust and vast surprise +They turned on me lack-lustre eyes, +And each with dropped and wagging jaw +Burst out into a wild guffaw: +They laughed with huge mouths opened wide; +They roared till each one held his side; +They screamed and writhed with brutal glee, +With fingers rudely stretched to me,-- +Till lo! at once the laughter died, +The tourists faded into air; +None but my fair maid lingered there, +Who stood demurely by my side. +"Who were your friends?" I asked the maid, +Taking a tea-cup from its shelf. +"This audience is disclosed," she said, +"Whenever a man makes a fool of himself." + + + +Liberty + + +What man is there so bold that he should say +"Thus, and thus only, would I have the sea"? +For whether lying calm and beautiful, +Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back +The smile of heaven from waves of amethyst; +Or whether, freshened by the busy winds, +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 rocky barriers, in wild lust +Of ruin drinks the blood of living things, +And strews its wrecks o'er leagues of desolate shore,-- +Always it is the sea, and men bow down +Before its vast and varied majesty. + +So all in vain will timorous ones essay +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 fulfills the unerring Will. +Let us not then despise it when it lies +Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm +Of gnat-like evils hover round its head; +Nor doubt it when in 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 +Rings down its grooves the knell of shuddering kings. +Forever in thine eyes, O Liberty, +Shines that high light whereby the world is saved, +And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee! + + + +The White Flag + + +I sent my love two roses,--one + As white as driven snow, +And one a blushing royal red, + A flaming Jacqueminot. + +I meant to touch and test my fate; + That night I should divine, +The moment I should see my love, + If her true heart were mine. + +For if she holds me dear, I said, + She'll wear my blushing rose; +If not, she'll wear my cold Lamarque, + As white as winter's snows. + +My heart sank when I met her: sure + I had been overbold, +For on her breast my pale rose lay + In virgin whiteness cold. + +Yet with low words she greeted me, + With smiles divinely tender; +Upon her cheek the red rose dawned,-- + The white rose meant surrender. + + + +The Law of Death + + +The song of Kilvani: fairest she +In all the land of Savatthi. +She had one child, as sweet and gay +And dear to her as the light of day. +She was so young, and he so fair, +The same bright eyes and the same dark hair; +To see them by the blossomy way, +They seemed two children at their play. + +There came a death-dart from the sky, +Kilvani saw her darling die. +The glimmering shade his eyes invades, +Out of his cheek the red bloom fades; +His warm heart feels the icy chill, +The round limbs shudder, and are still +And yet Kilvani held him fast +Long after life's last pulse was past, +As if her kisses could restore +The smile gone out forevermore. + +But when she saw her child was dead, +She scattered ashes on her head, +And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, +And rushing wildly through the street, +She sobbing fell at Buddha's feet. + +"Master, all-helpful, help me now! +Here at thy feet I humbly bow; +Have mercy, Buddha, help me now!" +She groveled on the marble floor, +And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er. +And suddenly upon the air +There fell the answer to her prayer: +"Bring me to-night a lotus tied +With thread from a house where none has died." + +She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, +Sure that the god would save the boy. +She found a lotus by the stream; +She plucked it from its noonday dream. +And then from door to door she fared, +To ask what house by Death was spared. +Her heart grew cold to see the eyes +Of all dilate with slow surprise: +"Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; +Nothing can help a child that's dead. +There stands not by the Ganges' side +A house where none hath ever died." +Thus, through the long and weary day, +From every door she bore away +Within her heart, and on her arm, +A heavier load, a deeper harm. +By gates of gold and ivory, +By wattled huts of poverty, +The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, +_The living are few, the dead are many._ + +The evening came--so still and fleet-- +And overtook her hurrying feet. +And, heartsick, by the sacred fane +She fell, and prayed the god again. +She sobbed and beat her bursting breast +"Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest! +Lo! I have wandered far and wide; +There stands no house where none hath died." +And Buddha answered, in a tone +Soft as a flute at twilight blown, +But grand as heaven and strong as death +To him who hears with ears of faith: +"Child, thou art answered. Murmur not! +Bow, and accept the common lot." + +Kilvani heard with reverence meet, +And laid her child at Buddha's feet. + + + +Mount Tabor + + +On Tabor's height a glory came, +And, shrined in clouds of lambent flame, +The awestruck, hushed disciples saw +Christ and the prophets of the law. +Moses, whose grand and awful face +Of Sinai's thunder bore the trace, +And wise Elias,--in his eyes +The shade of Israel's prophecies,-- +Stood in that wide, mysterious light, +Than Syrian noons more purely bright, +One on each hand, and high between +Shone forth the godlike Nazarene. + +They bowed their heads in holy fright,-- +No mortal eyes could bear the sight,-- +And when they looked again, behold! +The fiery clouds had backward rolled, +And borne aloft in grandeur lonely, +Nothing was left "save Jesus only." + +Resplendent type of things to be! +We read its mystery to-day +With clearer eyes than even they, +The fisher-saints of Galilee. +We see the Christ stand out between +The ancient law and faith serene, +Spirit and letter; but above +Spirit and letter both was Love. +Led by the hand of Jacob's God, +Through wastes of eld a path was trod +By which the savage world could move +Upward through law and faith to love. +And there in Tabor's harmless flame +The crowning revelation came. +The old world knelt in homage due, +The prophets near in reverence drew, +Law ceased its mission to fulfill, +And Love was lord on Tabor's hill. + +So now, while creeds perplex the mind +And wranglings load the weary wind, +When all the air is filled with words +And texts that ring like clashing swords, +Still, as for refuge, we may turn +Where Tabor's shining glories burn,-- +The soul of antique Israel gone, +And nothing left but Christ alone. + + + +Religion and Doctrine + + +He stood before the Sanhedrim; +The scowling rabbis gazed at him. +He recked not of their praise or blame; +There was no fear, there was no shame, +For one upon whose dazzled eyes +The whole world poured its vast surprise. +The open heaven was far too near, +His first day's light too sweet and clear, +To let him waste his new-gained ken +On the hate-clouded face of men. + +But still they questioned, Who art thou? +What hast thou been? What art thou now? +Thou art not he who yesterday +Sat here and begged beside the way; +For he was blind. + --_And I am he; +For I was blind, but now I see_. + + He told the story o'er and o'er; +It was his full heart's only lore: +A prophet on the Sabbath-day +Had touched his sightless eyes with clay, +And made him see who had been blind. +Their words passed by him like the wind, +Which raves and howls, but cannot shock +The hundred-fathom-rooted rock. + + Their threats and fury all went wide; +They could not touch his Hebrew pride. +Their sneers at Jesus and His band, +Nameless and homeless in the land, +Their boasts of Moses and his Lord, +All could not change him by one word. + + _I know not what this man may be, +Sinner or saint; but as for me, +One thing I know,--that I am he +Who once was blind, and now I see_. + + They were all doctors of renown, +The great men of a famous town, +With deep brows, wrinkled, broad, and wise, +Beneath their wide phylacteries; +The wisdom of the East was theirs, +And honor crowned their silver hairs. +The man they jeered and laughed to scorn +Was unlearned, poor, and humbly born; +But he knew better far than they +What came to him that Sabbath-day; +And what the Christ had done for him +He knew, and not the Sanhedrim. + + + +Sinai and Calvary + + +There are two mountains hallowed + By majesty sublime, +Which rear their crests unconquered + Above the floods of Time. +Uncounted generations + Have gazed on them with awe,-- +The mountain of the Gospel, + The mountain of the Law. + +From Sinai's cloud of darkness + The vivid lightnings play; +They serve the God of vengeance, + The Lord who shall repay. +Each fault must bring its penance, + Each sin the avenging blade, +For God upholds in justice + The laws that He hath made. + +But Calvary stands to ransom + The earth from utter loss, +In shade than light more glorious, + The shadow of the Cross. +To heal a sick world's trouble, + To soothe its woe and pain, +On Calvary's sacred summit + The Paschal Lamb was slain. + +The boundless might of Heaven + Its law in mercy furled, +As once the bow of promise + O'erarched a drowning world. +The Law said, As you keep me, + It shall be done to you; +But Calvary prays, Forgive them; + They know not what they do. + +Almighty God! direct us + To keep Thy perfect Law! +O blessed Saviour, help us + Nearer to Thee to draw! +Let Sinai's thunders aid us + To guard our feet from sin; +And Calvary's light inspire us + The love of God to win. + + + +The Vision of St. Peter + + +To Peter by night the faithfullest came + And said, "We appeal to thee! +The life of the Church is in thy life; + We pray thee to rise and flee. + +"For the tyrant's hand is red with blood, + And his arm is heavy with power; +Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall, + If thou tarry in Rome an hour." + +Through the sleeping town St. Peter passed + To the wide Campagna plain; +In the starry light of the Alban night + He drew free breath again: + +When across his path an awful form + In luminous glory stood; +His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet, + Were wet with immortal blood. + +The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes + Seemed changed to a godlike wrath, +As they turned on Peter, who cried aloud, + And sank to his knees in the path. + +"Lord of my life, my love, my soul! + Say, what wilt Thou with me?" +A voice replied, "I go to Rome + To be crucified for thee." + +The apostle sprang, all flushed, to his feet,-- + The vision had passed away; +The light still lay on the dewy plain, + But the sky in the east was gray. + +To the city walls St. Peter turned, + And his heart in his breast grew fire; +In every vein the hot blood burned + With the strength of one high desire. + +And sturdily back he marched to his death + Of terrible pain and shame; +And never a shade of fear again + To the stout apostle came. + + + +Israel + + +When by Jabbok the patriarch waited + To learn on the morrow his doom, +And his dubious spirit debated + In darkness and silence and gloom, + There descended a Being with whom +He wrestled in agony sore, + With striving of heart and of brawn, +And not for an instant forbore + Till the east gave a threat of the dawn; +And then, as the Awful One blessed him, + To his lips and his spirit there came, +Compelled by the doubts that oppressed him, +The cry that through questioning ages +Has been wrung from the hinds and the sages, + "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +Most fatal, most futile, of questions! + Wherever the heart of man beats, + In the spirit's most sacred retreats, +It comes with its sombre suggestions, + Unanswered forever and aye. + The blessing may come and may stay, +For the wrestler's heroic endeavor; +But the question, unheeded forever, + Dies out in the broadening day. + +In the ages before our traditions, +By the altars of dark superstitions, + The imperious question has come; +When the death-stricken victim lay sobbing + At the feet of his slayer and priest, +And his heart was laid smoking and throbbing + To the sound of the cymbal and drum +On the steps of the high Teocallis; + When the delicate Greek at his feast +Poured forth the red wine from his chalice + With mocking and cynical prayer; +When by Nile Egypt worshiping lay, + And afar, through the rosy, flushed air +The Memnon called out to the day; +Where the Muezzin's cry floats from his spire; + In the vaulted Cathedral's dim shades, +Where the crushed hearts of thousands aspire +Through art's highest miracles higher, + This question of questions invades + Each heart bowed in worship or shame; +In the air where the censers are swinging, +A voice, going up with the singing, +Cries, "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +No answer came back, not a word, +To the patriarch there by the ford; +No answer has come through the ages +To the poets, the seers, and the sages +Who have sought in the secrets of science +The name and the nature of God, +Whether cursing in desperate defiance +Or kissing his absolute rod; +But the answer which was and shall be, +"My name! Nay, what is it to thee?" +The search and the question are vain. +By use of the strength that is in you, +By wrestling of soul and of sinew +The blessing of God you may gain. + +There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven + That never will shine on our eyes; +To mortals it may not be given + To range those inviolate skies. +The mind, whether praying or scorning, + That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; +But strive through the night till the morning, + And mightily shalt thou prevail. + + + +Crows at Washington + + +Slow flapping to the setting sun +By twos and threes, in wavering rows. + As twilight shadows dimly close, +The crows fly over Washington. + +Under the crimson sunset sky +Virginian woodlands leafless lie, + In wintry torpor bleak and dun. +Through the rich vault of heaven, which shines + Like a warmed opal in the sun, +With wide advance in broken lines + The crows fly over Washington. + +Over the Capitol's white dome, + Across the obelisk soaring bare +To prick the clouds, they travel home, +Content and weary, winnowing + With dusky vans the golden air, +Which hints the coming of the spring, + Though winter whitens Washington. + +The dim, deep air, the level ray +Of dying sunlight on their plumes, + Give them a beauty not their own; +Their hoarse notes fail and faint away; + A rustling murmur floating down +Blends sweetly with the thickening glooms; +They touch with grace the fading day, + Slow flying over Washington. + +I stand and watch with clouded eyes + These dim battalions move along; +Out of the distance memory cries + Of days when life and hope were strong, +When love was prompt and wit was gay; +Even then, at evening, as to-day, + I watched, while twilight hovered dim + Over Potomac's curving rim, +This selfsame flight of homing crows +Blotting the sunset's fading rose, + Above the roofs of Washington. + + + +Remorse + + +Sad is the thought of sunniest days + Of love and rapture perished, +And shine through memory's tearful haze + The eyes once fondliest cherished. +Reproachful is the ghost of toys + That charmed while life was wasted. +But saddest is the thought of joys + That never yet were tasted. + +Sad is the vague and tender dream + Of dead love's lingering kisses, +To crushed hearts haloed by the gleam + Of unreturning blisses; +Deep mourns the soul in anguished pride + For the pitiless death that won them,-- +But the saddest wail is for lips that died + With the virgin dew upon them. + + + +Esse Quam Videri + + +The knightly legend of thy shield betrays +The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, + And that large honor that deceit defies, +Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, +Who decked thy scutcheon with that sturdy phrase, + _To be rather than seem_. As eve's red skies + Surpass the morning's rosy prophecies, +Thy life to that proud boast its answer pays. +Scorning thy faith and purpose to defend + The ever-mutable multitude at last + Will hail the power they did not comprehend,-- +Thy fame will broaden through the centuries; + As, storm and billowy tumult overpast, + The moon rules calmly o'er the conquered seas. + + + +When the Boys Come Home + + +There's a happy time coming, + When the boys come home. +There's a glorious day coming, + When the boys come home. +We will end the dreadful story +Of this treason dark and gory +In a sunburst of glory, + When the boys come home. + +The day will seem brighter + When the boys come home, +For our hearts will be lighter + When the boys come home. +Wives and sweethearts will press them +In their arms and caress them, +And pray God to bless them, + When the boys come home. + +The thinned ranks will be proudest + When the boys come home, +And their cheer will ring the loudest + When the boys come home. +The full ranks will be shattered, +And the bright arms will be battered, +And the battle-standards tattered, + When the boys come home. + +Their bayonets may be rusty, + When the boys come home, +And their uniforms dusty, + When the boys come home. +But all shall see the traces +Of battle's royal graces, +In the brown and bearded faces, + When the boys come home. + +Our love shall go to meet them, + When the boys come home, +To bless them and to greet them, + When the boys come home; +And the fame of their endeavor +Time and change shall not dissever +From the nation's heart forever, + When the boys come home. + + + +Lèse-Amour + + +How well my heart remembers +Beside these camp-fire embers +The eyes that smiled so far away,-- + The joy that was November's. + + Her voice to laughter moving, + So merrily reproving,-- +We wandered through the autumn woods, + And neither thought of loving. + + The hills with light were glowing, + The waves in joy were flowing,-- +It was not to the clouded sun + The day's delight was owing. + +Though through the brown leaves straying, + Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; +We knew not Love was with us there, + No look nor tone betraying. + + How unbelief still misses + The best of being's blisses! +Our parting saw the first and last + Of love's imagined kisses. + + Now 'mid these scenes the drearest + I dream of her, the dearest,-- +Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, + So far, and yet the nearest. + + And Love, so gayly taunted, + Who died, no welcome granted, +Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, + By whom my life is haunted. + + With bonds I may not sever, + He binds my heart forever, +And leads me where we murdered him,-- + The Hill beside the River. + + +CAMP SHAW, FLORIDA, February, 1864. + + + +Northward + + +Under the high unclouded sun +That makes the ship and shadow one, + I sail away as from the fort +Booms sullenly the noonday gun. + +The odorous airs blow thin and fine, +The sparkling waves like emeralds shine, + The lustre of the coral reefs +Gleams whitely through the tepid brine. + +And glitters o'er the liquid miles +The jewelled ring of verdant isles, + Where generous Nature holds her court +Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. + +Encinctured by the faithful seas +Inviolate gardens load the breeze, + Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes +The pennants of the cocoa-trees. + +Enthroned in light and bathed in balm, +In lonely majesty the Palm + Blesses the isles with waving hands,-- +High-Priest of the eternal Calm. + +Yet Northward with an equal mind +I steer my course, and leave behind + The rapture of the Southern skies,-- +The wooing of the Southern wind. + +For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom +Falls far and near the shade of gloom, +Cast from the hovering vulture-wings +Of one dark thought of woe and doom. + +I know that in the snow-white pines +The brave Norse fire of freedom shines, + And fain for this I leave the land +Where endless summer pranks the vines. + +O strong, free North, so wise and brave! +O South, too lovely for a slave! + Why read ye not the changeless truth,-- +The free can conquer but to save? + +May God upon these shining sands +Send Love and Victory clasping hands, + And Freedom's banners wave in peace +Forever o'er the rescued lands! + +And here, in that triumphant hour, +Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power; + And blushing earth and smiling sea +In dalliance deck the bridal bower. + +KEY WEST, 1864. + + + +In the Firelight + + +My dear wife sits beside the fire + With folded hands and dreaming eyes, +Watching the restless flames aspire, + And wrapped in thralling memories. +I mark the fitful firelight fling + Its warm caresses on her brow, +And kiss her hands' unmelting snow, + And glisten on her wedding-ring. + +The proud free head that crowns so well + The neck superb, whose outlines glide +Into the bosom's perfect swell + Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide, +The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, + The gracious charm her beauty wears, + Fill my fond eyes with tender tears +As in the days of long ago. + +Days long ago, when in her eyes + The only heaven I cared for lay, +When from our thoughtless Paradise + All care and toil dwelt far away; +When Hope in wayward fancies throve, + And rioted in secret sweets, + Beguiled by Passion's dear deceits,-- +The mysteries of maiden love. + +One year had passed since first my sight + Was gladdened by her girlish charms, +When on a rapturous summer night + I clasped her in possessing arms. +And now ten years have rolled away, + And left such blessings as their dower, + I owe her tenfold at this hour +The love that lit our wedding-day. + +For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, + My fancy sees, by love refined, +A warmer and a dearer charm + By wedlock's mystic hands intwined,-- +golden coil of wifely cares + That years have forged, the loving joy + That guards the curly-headed boy +Asleep an hour ago up stairs. + +A fair young mother, pure as fair, + A matron heart and virgin soul! +The flickering light that crowns her hair + Seems like a saintly aureole. +A tender sense upon me falls + That joy unmerited is mine, + And in this pleasant twilight shine +My perfect bliss myself appalls. + +Come back! my darling, strayed so far + Into the realm of fantasy,-- +Let thy dear face shine like a star + In love-light beaming over me. +My melting soul is jealous, sweet, + Of thy long silence' drear eclipse, + O kiss me back with living lips +To life, love, lying at thy feet! + + + +In a Graveyard + + +In the dewy depths of the graveyard + I lie in the tangled grass, +And watch, in the sea of azure, + The white cloud-islands pass. + +The birds in the rustling branches + Sing gayly overhead; +Gray stones like sentinel spectres + Are guarding the silent dead. + +The early flowers sleep shaded + In the cool green noonday glooms; +The broken light falls shuddering + On the cold white face of the tombs, + +Without, the world is smiling + In the infinite love of God, +But the sunlight fails and falters + When it falls on the churchyard sod. + +On me the joyous rapture + Of a heart's first love is shed, +But it falls on my heart as coldly + As sunlight on the dead. + + + +The Prairie + + +The skies are blue above my head, + The prairie green below, +And flickering o'er the tufted grass + The shifting shadows go, +Vague-sailing, where the feathery clouds + Fleck white the tranquil skies, +Black javelins darting where aloft + The whirring pheasant flies. + +A glimmering plain in drowsy trance + The dim horizon bounds, +Where all the air is resonant + With sleepy summer sounds, +The life that sings among the flowers, + The lisping of the breeze, +The hot cicala's sultry cry, + The murmurous dream of bees. + +The butterfly--a flying flower-- + Wheels swift in flashing rings, +And flutters round his quiet kin, + With brave flame-mottled wings. +The wild Pinks burst in crimson fire, + The Phlox' bright clusters shine, +And Prairie-Cups are swinging free + To spill their airy wine. + +And lavishly beneath the sun, + In liberal splendor rolled, +The Fennel fills the dipping plain + With floods of flowery gold; +And widely weaves the Iron-Weed + A woof of purple dyes +Where Autumn's royal feet may tread + When bankrupt Summer flies. + +In verdurous tumult far away + The prairie-billows gleam, +Upon their crests in blessing rests + The noontide's gracious beam. +Low quivering vapors steaming dim + The level splendors break +Where languid Lilies deck the rim + Of some land-circled lake. + +Far in the East like low-hung clouds + The waving woodlands lie; +Far in the West the glowing plain + Melts warmly in the sky. +No accent wounds the reverent air, + No footprint dints the sod,-- +Lone in the light the prairie lies, + Rapt in a dream of God + +ILLINOIS, 1858. + + + +Centennial + + +A hundred times the bells of Brown + Have rung to sleep the idle summers, +And still to-day clangs clamoring down + A greeting to the welcome comers. + +And far, like waves of morning, pours + Her call, in airy ripples breaking, +And wanders to the farthest shores, + Her children's drowsy hearts awaking. + +The wild vibration floats along, + O'er heart-strings tense its magic plying, +And wakes in every breast its song + Of love and gratitude undying. + +My heart to meet the summons leaps + At limit of its straining tether, +Where the fresh western sunlight steeps + In golden flame the prairie heather. + +And others, happier, rise and fare + To pass within the hallowed portal, +And see the glory shining there + Shrined in her steadfast eyes immortal. + +What though their eyes be dim and dull, + Their heads be white in reverend blossom; +Our mother's smile is beautiful + As when she bore them on her bosom! + +Her heavenly forehead bears no line + Of Time's iconoclastic fingers, +But o'er her form the grace divine + Of deathless youth and wisdom lingers. + +We fade and pass, grow faint and old, + Till youth and joy and hope are banished, +And still her beauty seems to fold + The sum of all the glory vanished. + +As while Tithonus faltered on + The threshold of the Olympian dawnings, +Aurora's front eternal shone + With lustre of the myriad mornings. + +So joys that slip like dead leaves down, + And hopes burnt out that die in ashes, +Rise restless from their graves to crown + Our mother's brow with fadeless flashes. + +And lives wrapped in tradition's mist + These honored halls to-day are haunting, +And lips by lips long withered kissed + The sagas of the past are chanting. + +Scornful of absence' envious bar + BROWN smiles upon the mystic meeting +Of those her sons, who, sundered far, + In brotherhood of heart are greeting; + +Her wayward children wandering on + Where setting stars are lowly burning, +But still in worship toward the dawn + That gilds their souls' dear Mecca turning; + +Or those who, armed for God's own fight, + Stand by his word through fire and slaughter. +Or bear our banner's starry light + Far-flashing through the Gulf's blue water. + +For where one strikes for light and truth + The right to aid, the wrong redressing, +The mother of his spirit's youth + Sheds o'er his soul her silent blessing. + +She gained her crown a gem of flame + When KNEASS fell dead in victory gory; +New splendor blazed upon her name + When IVES' young life went out in glory! + +Thus bright forever may she keep + Her fires of tolerant Freedom burning, +Till War's red eyes are charmed to sleep + And bells ring home the boys returning. + +And may she shed her radiant truth + In largess on ingenuous comers, +And hold the bloom of gracious youth + Through many a hundred tranquil summers! + + + +A Winter Night + + +The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill + And chides with angry moan the frosty skies, + The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes +That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still +We reck not of the wild night's gloom and chill, + Housed from its rage, dear friend; and fancy flies, + Lured by the hand of beckoning memories, +Back to those summer evenings on the hill +Where we together watched the sun go down + Beyond the gold-washed uplands, while his fires + Touched into glittering life the vanes and spires +Piercing the purpling mists that veiled the town. + The wintry night thy voice and eyes beguile, + Till wake the sleeping summers in thy smile. + + + +Student-Song + + +When Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend, + And Youth's blue sky is bright, +And shines in Youth's clear eye, my friend, + Love's early dawning light, +Let the free soul spurn care's control, + And while the glad days shine, +We'll use their beams for Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +Let not the bigot's frown, my friend, + O'ercast thy brow with gloom, +For Autumn's sober brown, my friend, + Shall follow Summer's bloom. +Let smiles and sighs and loving eyes + In changeful beauty shine, +And shed their beams on Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +For in the weary years, my friend, + That stretched before us lie, +There'll be enough of tears, my friend, + To dim the brightest eye. +So let them wait, and laugh at fate, + While Youth's sweet moments shine,-- +Till memory gleams with golden dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + + + +How It Happened + + +I pray you, pardon me, Elsie, + And smile that frown away +That dims the light of your lovely face + As a thunder-cloud the day. +I really could not help it,-- + Before I thought, 't was done,-- +And those great gray eyes flashed bright and cold, + Like an icicle in the sun. + +I was thinking of the summers + When we were boys and girls, +And wandered in the blossoming woods, + And the gay winds romped with your curls. +And you seemed to me the same little girl + I kissed in the alder-path, +I kissed the little girl's lips, and alas! + I have roused a woman's wrath. + +There is not so much to pardon,-- + For why were your lips so red? +The blond hair fell in a shower of gold + From the proud, provoking head. +And the beauty that flashed from the splendid eyes, + And played round the tender mouth, +Rushed over my soul like a warm sweet wind + That blows from the fragrant south. + +And where, after all, is the harm done? + I believe we were made to be gay, +And all of youth not given to love + Is vainly squandered away. +And strewn through life's low labors, + Like gold in the desert sands, +Are love's swift kisses and sighs and vows + And the clasp of clinging hands. + +And when you are old and lonely, + In Memory's magic shine +You will see on your thin and wasting hands, + Like gems, these kisses of mine. +And when you muse at evening + At the sound of some vanished name, +The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips + And kindle your heart to flame. + + + +God's Vengeance + + +Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine; + I will repay," saith the Lord; +Ours be the anger divine, + Lit by the flash of his word. + +How shall his vengeance be done? + How, when his purpose is clear? +Must he come down from his throne? + Hath he no instruments here? + +Sleep not in imbecile trust + Waiting for God to begin, +While, growing strong in the dust, + Rests the bruised serpent of sin. + +Right and Wrong,--both cannot live + Death-grappled. Which shall we see? +Strike! only Justice can give + Safety to all that shall be. + +Shame! to stand paltering thus, + Tricked by the balancing odds; +Strike! God is waiting for us! + Strike! for the vengeance is God's. + + + +Too Late + + +Had we but met in other days, +Had we but loved in other ways, +Another light and hope had shone + On your life and my own. + +In sweet but hopeless reveries +I fancy how your wistful eyes +Had saved me, had I known their power + In fate's imperious hour; + +How loving you, beloved of God, +And following you, the path I trod +Had led me, through your love and prayers. + To God's love unawares: + +And how our beings joined as one +Had passed through checkered shade and sun, +Until the earth our lives had given, + With little change, to heaven. + +God knows why this was not to be. +You bloomed from childhood far from me, +The sunshine of the favored place + That knew your youth and grace. + +And when your eyes, so fair and free, +In fearless beauty beamed on me, +I knew the fatal die was thrown, + My choice in life was gone. + +And still with wild and tender art +Your child-love touched my torpid heart, +Gilding the blackness where it fell, + Like sunlight over hell. + +In vain, in vain! my choice was gone! +Better to struggle on alone +Than blot your pure life's blameless shine + With cloudy stains of mine. + +A vague regret, a troubled prayer, +And then the future vast and fair +Will tempt your young and eager eyes + With all its glad surprise. + +And I shall watch you, safe and far, +As some late traveller eyes a star +Wheeling beyond his desert sands + To gladden happier lands. + + + +Love's Doubt + + +'Tis love that blinds my heart and eyes,-- + I sometimes say in doubting dreams,-- + The face that near me perfect seems +Cold Memory paints in fainter dyes. + +'T was but love's dazzled eyes--I say-- + That made her seem so strangely bright; + The face I worshipped yesternight, +I dread to meet it changed to-day. + +As, when dies out some song's refrain, + And leaves your eyes in happy tears, + Awake the same fond idle fears,-- +It cannot sound so sweet again. + +You wait and say with vague annoy, + "It will not sound so sweet again," + Until comes back the wild refrain +That floods your soul with treble joy. + +So when I see my love again + Fades the unquiet doubt away, + While shines her beauty like the day +Over my happy heart and brain. + +And in that face I see no more + The fancied faults I idly dreamed, + But all the charms that fairest seemed, +I find them, fairer than before. + + + +Lagrimas + + + God send me tears! +Loose the fierce band that binds my tired brain, +Give me the melting heart of other years, + And let me weep again! + + Before me pass +The shapes of things inexorably true. +Gone is the sparkle of transforming dew + From every blade of grass. + + In life's high noon +Aimless I stand, my promised task undone, +And raise my hot eyes to the angry sun + That will go down too soon. + +Turned into gall +Are the sweet joys of childhood's sunny reign; +And memory is a torture, love a chain + That binds my life in thrall. + + And childhood's pain +Could to me now the purest rapture yield; +I pray for tears as in his parching field + The husbandman for rain. + + We pray in vain! +The sullen sky flings down its blaze of brass; +The joys of life all scorched and withering pass; + I shall not weep again. + + + +On the Bluff + + +O grandly flowing River! +O silver-gliding River! +Thy springing willows shiver + In the sunset as of old; +They shiver in the silence +Of the willow-whitened islands, +While the sun-bars and the sand-bars + Fill air and wave with gold. + +O gay, oblivious River! +O sunset-kindled River! +Do you remember ever + The eyes and skies so blue +On a summer day that shone here, +When we were all alone here, +And the blue eyes were too wise + To speak the love they knew? + +O stern impassive River! +O still unanswering River! +The shivering willows quiver + As the night-winds moan and rave. +From the past a voice is calling, +From heaven a star is falling, +And dew swells in the bluebells + Above her hillside grave. + + + +Una + + +In the whole wide world there was but one, +Others for others, but she was mine, +The one fair woman beneath the sun. + +From her gold-flax curls' most marvellous shine +Down to the lithe and delicate feet +There was not a curve nor a waving line + +But moved in a harmony firm and sweet +With all of passion my life could know. +By knowledge perfect and faith complete + +I was bound to her,--as the planets go +Adoring around their central star, +Free, but united for weal or woe. + +She was so near and Heaven so far-- +She grew my heaven and law and fate +Rounding my life with a mystic bar + +No thought beyond could violate. +Our love to fulness in silence nursed +Grew calm as morning, when through the gate + +Of the glimmering East the sun has burst, +With his hot life filling the waiting air. +She kissed me once,--that last and first + +Of her maiden kisses was placid as prayer. +Against all comers I sat with lance +In rest, and, drunk with my joy, I sware + +Defiance and scorn to the world's worst chance. +In vain! for soon unhorsed I lay +At the feet of the strong god Circumstance-- + +And never again shall break the day, +And never again shall fall the night +That shall light me, or shield me, on my way + +To the presence of my sad soul's delight. +Her dead love comes like a passionate ghost +To mourn the Body it held so light, + +And Fate, like a hound with a purpose lost, +Goes round bewildered with shame and fright. + + + + +Through the long days and years + What will my loved one be, + Parted from me? +Through the long days and years. + +Always as then she was + Loveliest, brightest, best, + Blessing and blest,-- +Always as then she was. + +Never on earth again + Shall I before her stand, + Touch lip or hand,-- +Never on earth again. + +But while my darling lives + Peaceful I journey on, + Not quite alone, +Not while my darling lives. + + + +A Phylactery + + +Wise men I hold those rakes of old + Who, as we read in antique story, +When lyres were struck and wine was poured, +Set the white Death's Head on the board-- + Memento mori. + +Love well! love truly! and love fast! + True love evades the dilatory. +Life's bloom flares like a meteor past; +A joy so dazzling cannot last-- + Memento mori. + +Stop not to pluck the leaves of bay + That greenly deck the path of glory, +The wreath will wither if you stay, +So pass along your earnest way-- + Memento mori. + +Hear but not heed, though wild and shrill, + The cries of faction transitory; +Cleave to _your_ good, eschew _your_ ill, +A Hundred Years and all is still-- + Memento mori. + +When Old Age comes with muffled drums, + That beat to sleep our tired life's story, +On thoughts of dying, (Rest is good!) +Like old snakes coiled i' the sun, we brood-- + Memento mori. + + + +Blondine + + +I wandered through a careless world + Deceived when not deceiving, +And never gave an idle heart + The rapture of believing. +The smiles, the sighs, the glancing eyes, + Of many hundred comers +Swept by me, light as rose-leaves blown + From long-forgotten summers. + +But never eyes so deep and bright + And loyal in their seeming, +And never smiles so full of light + Have shone upon my dreaming. +The looks and lips so gay and wise, + The thousand charms that wreathe them, +--Almost I dare believe that truth + Is safely shrined beneath them. + +Ah! do they shine, those eyes of thine, + But for our own misleading? +The fresh young smile, so pure and fine, + Does it but mock our reading? +Then faith is fled, and trust is dead, + And unbelief grows duty, +If fraud can wield the triple arm + Of youth and wit and beauty. + + + +Distichs + + +I. + +Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her. +This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not. + +II. + +There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going, +When they seem going they come: Diplomates, women, and crabs. + +III. + +Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recollection, +As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea. + +IV. + +As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them, +Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king. + +V. + +What is a first love worth, except to prepare for a second? +What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first. + +VI. + +Health was wooed by the Romans in groves of the laurel and myrtle. +Happy and long are the lives brightened by glory and love. + +VII. + +Wine is like rain: when it falls on the mire it but makes it the fouler, +But when it strikes the good soil wakes it to beauty and bloom. + +VIII. + +Break not the rose; its fragrance and beauty are surely sufficient: +Resting contented with these, never a thorn shall you feel. + +IX. + +When you break up housekeeping, you learn the extent of your treasures; +Till he begins to reform, no one can number his sins. + +X. + +Maidens! why should you worry in choosing whom you shall marry? +Choose whom you may, you will find you have got somebody else. + +XI. + +Unto each man comes a day when his favorite sins all forsake him, +And he complacently thinks he has forsaken his sins. + +XII. + +Be not too anxious to gain your next-door neighbor's approval: +Live your own life, and let him strive your approval to gain. + +XIII. + +Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of his pronouns. +Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I. + +XIV. + +The best loved man or maid in the town would perish with anguish +Could they hear all that their friends say in the course of a day. + +XV. + +True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table: +Luckiest he who knows just when to rise and go home. + +XVI. + +Pleasant enough it is to hear the world speak of your virtues; +But in your secret heart 't is of your faults you are proud. + +XVII. + +Try not to beat back the current, yet be not drowned in its waters; +Speak with the speech of the world, think with the thoughts of the few. + +XVIII. + +Make all good men your well-wishers, and then, in the years' steady sifting, +Some of them turn into friends. Friends are the sunshine of life. + + + +Regardant + + +As I lay at your feet that afternoon, +Little we spoke,--you sat and mused, +Humming a sweet old-fashioned tune, + +And I worshipped you, with a sense confused +Of the good time gone and the bad on the way, +While my hungry eyes your face perused + +To catch and brand on my soul for aye +The subtle smile which had grown my doom. +Drinking sweet poison hushed I lay + +Till the sunset shimmered athwart the room. +I rose to go. You stood so fair +And dim in the dead day's tender gloom: + +All at once, or ever I was aware, +Flashed from you on me a warm strong wave +Of passion and power; in the silence there + +I fell on my knees, like a lover, or slave, +With my wild hands clasping your slender waist; +And my lips, with a sudden frenzy brave, + +A madman's kiss on your girdle pressed, +And I felt your calm heart's quickening beat, +And your soft hands on me one instant rest. + +And if God had loved me, how endlessly sweet +Had he let my heart in its rapture burst, +And throb its last at your firm small feet! + +And when I was forth, I shuddered at first +At my imminent bliss. As a soul in pain, +Treading his desolate path accursed, + +Looks back and dreams through his tears' dim rain +That by Heaven's wide gate the angels smile, +Relenting, and beckon him back again, + +And goes on, thrice damned by that devil's wile,-- +So sometimes burns in my weary brain +The thought that you loved me all the while. + + + +Guy of the Temple + + +Down the dim West slow fails the stricken sun, +And from his hot face fades the crimson flush +Veiled in death's herald-shadows sick and gray. +Silent and dark the sombre valley lies +Forgotten; happy in the late fond beams +Glimmer the constant waves of Galilee. +Afar, below, in airy music ring +The bugles of my host; the column halts, +A wearied serpent glittering in the vale, +Where rising mist-like gleam the tented camps. + +Pitch my pavilion here, where its high cross +May catch the last light lingering on the hill. +The savage shadows, struggling by the shore, +Have conquered in the valley; inch by inch +The vanquished light fights bravely to these crags +To perish glorious in the sunset fire; +Even as our hunted Cause so pressed and torn +In Syrian valleys, and the trampled marge +Of consecrated streams, displays at last +Its narrowing glories from these steadfast walls. +Here in God's name we stand, and brighter far +Shines the stern virtue of my martyr-host +Through these invidious fortunes, than of old, +When the still sunshine glinted on their helms, +And dallying breezes woke their bridle-bells +To tinkling music by the reedy shore +Of calm Tiberias, where our angry Lord, +Wroth at the deadly sin that cursed our camp, +Denied and blinded us, and gave us up +To the avenging sword of Saladin. +Yet would he not permit his truth to sink +To utter loss amid that foundering fight, +But led us, scarred and shattered from the spoil +Of Paynim rage, the desert's thirsty death, +To where beneath the sheltering crags we prayed +And rested and grew strong. Heroes and saints +To alien peoples shall they be, my brave +And patient warriors; for in their stout hearts +God's spirit dwells forever, and their hands +Are swift to do his service on his foes. +The swelling music of their vesper-hymn +Is rising fragrant from the shadowed vale +Familiar to the welcoming gates of heaven. + + _Mother of God! as evening falls + Upon the silent sea_. + +_ Mother of God! as evening falls +Upon the silent sea, +And shadows veil the mountain walls, +We lift our souls to thee! +From lurking perils of the night, +The desert's hidden harms, +From plagues that waste, from blasts that smite, +Defend thy men-at-arms!_ + +Ay! Heaven keep them! and ye angel-hosts +That wait with fluttering plumes around the great +White throne of God, guard them from scathe and harm! +For in your starry records never shone +The memory of desert so great as theirs. +I hold not first, though peerless else on earth, +That knightly valor, born of gentle blood +And war's long tutelage, which hath made their name +Blaze like a baleful planet o'er these lands; +Firm seat in saddle, lance unmoved, a hand +Wedding the hilt with death's persistent grasp; +One-minded rush in fight that naught can stay. +Not these the highest, though I scorn not these, +But rather offer Heaven with humble heart +The deeds that heaven hath given us arms to do. +For when God's smile was with us we were strong +To go like sudden lightning to our mark: +As on that summer day when Saladin-- +Passing in scorn our host at Antioch, +Who spent the days in revel, and shamed the stars +With nightly scandal--came with all his host, +Its gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Flaunting the banners of the Caliphate +Beneath the walls of fair Jerusalem: +And white and shaking came the Leper-King, +Great Baldwin's blasted scion, and Tripoli +And I, and twenty score of Temple Knights, +To meet the myriads marshalled by the bright +Untarnished flower of Eastern chivalry; +A moment paused with level-fronting spears +And moveless helms before that shining host, +Whose gay attire abashed the morning light, +And then struck spur and charged, while from the mass +Of rushing terror burst the awful cry, +_God and the Temple_! As the avalanche slides +Down Alpine slopes, precipitous, cold and dark, +Unpitying and unwrathful, grinds and crushes +The mountain violets and the valley weeds, +And drags behind a trail of chaos and death; +So burst we on that field, and through and through +The gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Crushed and abolished every grace and gleam, +And dragged where'er we rode a sinuous track +Of chaos and death, till all the plain was filled +With battered armor, turbaned trunkless heads, +With silken mantles blushing angry gules +And Bagdad's banners trampled and forlorn. +And Saladin, stunned and bewildered sore,-- +The greatest prince, save in the grace of God, +That now wears sword,--mounted his brother's barb, +And, followed by a half-score followers, +Sped to his castle Shaubec, over against +The cliffs by Ascalon, and there abode: +And sullenly made order that no more +The royal nouba should be played for him +Until he should erase the rusting stain +Upon his knightly honor; and no more +The nouba sounded by the Sultan's tent, +Morning nor evening by the silent tent, +Until the headlong greed of Chatillon +Spread ruin on our cause from Montreale. +But greatest are my warriors, as I deem, +In that their hearts, nearer than any else +Keep true the pledge of perfect purity +They pledged upon their sword-hilts long ago. +For all is possible to the pure in heart. + + _Mother of God! thy starry smile + Still bless us from above! + Keep pure our souls from passion's guile, + Our hearts from earthly love! + Still save each soul from guilt apart + As stainless as each sword + And guard undimmed in every heart + The image of our Lord!_ + +O goodliest fellowship that the world has known, +True hearts and stalwart arms! above your breasts +Glitters no flash of wreathen amulet +Forged against sword-stroke by the chanted rhythm +Of charms accurst; but in each steadfast heart +Blazes the light of cloudless purity, +That like a splendid jewel glorifies +With restless fire the gold that spheres it round, +And marks you children of our God, whose lives +He guards with the awful jealousy of love. +And even me that generous love has spared,-- +Me, trustless knight and miserable man,-- +Sad prey of dark and mutinous thoughts that tempt +My sick soul into perjury and death-- +Since his great love had pity of my pain, +Has spared to lead these blameless warriors safe +Into the desert from the blazing towns, +Out of the desert to the inviolate hills +Where God has roofed them with his hollow shield. +Through all these days of tempest and eclipse +His hand has led me and his wrath has flashed +Its lightnings in the pathway of my sword. +And so I hope, and so my crescent faith +Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears +And toils and blood and anguish borne for him +May blot the accusing of my deadly sin +From heaven's high compt, and give me rest in death; +And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, +That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, +Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul. +My misery will atone,--my misery, +Dear God, will surely atone! for not the sting +Of macerating thongs, nor the slow horror +Of crowns of thorny iron maddening the brows, +Nor all that else pale hermits have devised +To scourge the rebel senses in their shade +Of caverned desolation, have the power +To smart and goad and lash and mortify +Like the great love that binds my ruined heart +Relentless, as the insidious ivy binds +The shattered bulk of some deserted tower, +Enlacing slow and riving with strong hands +Of pitiless verdure every seam and jut, +Till none may tear it forth and save the tower. +So binds and masters me my hopeless love. +So through the desert, in the silent hills, +I' the current of the battle's storm and stress, +One thought has driven me,--that though men may call +Me stainless Paladin, Knight leal and true +To Christ and Our Lady, still I know myself +A knight not after God's own heart, a soul +Recreant, and whelmed in the forbidden sin. +For dearer to my sad heart than the cross +I give my heart's best blood for are the eyes +That long ago, when youth and hope were mine, +I loved in thy still valleys, far Provence! +And sweeter to my spirit than the bells +Of rescued Salem are the loving tones +Of her dear voice, soft echoing o'er the years. +They haunt me in the stillness and the glare +Of desert noontide when the horizon's line +Swims faintly throbbing, and my shadow hides +Skulking beneath me from the brassy sky. +And when night comes to soothe with breath of balm +And pomp of stars the worn and weary world, +Her eyes rise in my soul and make its day. +And even into the battle comes my love, +Snatching the duty that I offer Heaven. + +At closing of El-Majed's awful day, +When the last quivering sunbeams, choked with dust +And fume of blood, failed on the level plain, +In the last charge, when gathered all our knights +The precious handful who from morn had stemmed +The fury of the multitudinous hosts +Of Islam, where in youth's hot fire and pride +Ramped the young lion-whelp, Ben-Saladin; +As down the slope we rode at eventide, +The dying sunlight faintly smiled to greet +Our tattered guidons and our dinted helms +And lance-heads blooming with the battle's rose. +Into the vale, dusk with the shadow of death, +With silent lips and ringing mail we rode. +And something in the spirit of the hour, +Or fate, or memory, or sorrow, or sin, +Or love, which unto me is all of these, +Possessed and bound me; for when dashed our troop +In stormy clangor on the Paynim lines +The soul of my dead youth came into me; +Faded away my oath; the woes of Zion, +God was forgot; blazed in my leaping heart, +With instant flash, life's inextinguished fires; +Plunging along each tense limb poured the blood +Hot with its years of sleeping-smothered flame. +And in a dream I charged, and in a dream +I smote resistless; foemen in my path +Fell unregarded, like the wayside flowers +Clipped by the truant's staff in daisied lanes. +For over me burned lustrous the dear eyes +Of my beloved; I strove as at a joust +To gain at end the guerdon of her smile. +And ever, as in the dense melee I dashed, +Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks +Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms. + +O my lost love! Bright o'er the waste of years-- +That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; +As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, +Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch +Of sands that intervene. In this still light +The old sweet memories glimmer back to me. +Fair summers of my youth,--the idle days +I wandered in the bosky coverts hid +In the dim woods that girt my ancient home; +The blue young eyes I met and worshipped there; +The love that growing turned those gloomy wilds +To faery dells, and filled the vernal air +With light that bathed the hills of Paradise; +The warm, long days of rapturous summer-time, +When through the forests thick and lush we strayed, +And love made our own sunshine in the shades. +And all things fair and graceful in the woods +I loved with liberal heart; the violets +Were dear for her dear eyes, the quiring birds +That caught the musical tremble of her voice. +O happy twilights in the leafy glooms! +When in the glowing dusk the winsome arts +And maiden graces that all day had kept +Us twain and separate melted away +In blushing silence, and my love was mine +Utterly, utterly, with clinging arms +And quick, caressing fingers, warm red lips, +Where vows, half uttered, drowned in kisses, died; +Mine, with the starlight in her passionate eyes; +The wild wind of the woodland breathing low +To wake the elfin music of the leaves, +And free the prisoned odors of the flowers, +In honor of young Love come to his throne! +While we under the stars, with twining arms +And mutual lips insatiate, gave our souls-- +Madly forgetting earth and heaven--to love! + +_In desert march or battles flame, + In fortress and in field, +Our war-cry is thy holy name, + Thy love our joy and shield! +And if we falter, let thy power + Thy stern avenger be, +And God forget us in the hour + We cease to think of thee!_ + +Curse me not, God of Justice and of Love! +Pitiful God, let my long woe atone! + +I cannot deem but God has pitied me; +Else why with painful care have I been saved, +Whenever tossed and drenched in the fierce tide +Of Saladin's victories by the walls profaned +Of Jaffa, on the sands of far Daroum, +Or in the battle thundering on the downs +Of Ramlah, or the bloody day that shed +Red horrors on high Gaza's parapets? +For never a storm of fatal fight has raged +In Islam's track of rout and ruin swept +From Egypt to Gebail, but when the ebb +Of battle came I and my host have lain, +Scarred, scorched, safe somewhere on its fiery shore. +At Marcab's lingering siege, where day by day +We told the Moslem legions toiling slow, +Planting their engines, delving in their mines +To quench in our destruction this last light +Of Christendom, our fortress in the crags, +God's beacon swung defiant from the stars; +One thunderous night I knew their miners groped +Below, and thought ere morn to die, in crush +And tumult of the falling citadel. +And pondering of my fate--the broken storm +Sobbing its life away--I was aware +There grew between me and the quieting skies +A face and form I knew,--not as in dreams, +The sad dishevelled loveliness of earth, +But lighter than the thin air where she swayed,-- +Gold hair flame-fluttered, eyes and mouth aglow +With lambent light of spiritual joy. +With sweet command she beckoned me away +And led me vaguely dreaming, till I saw +Where the wild flood in sudden fury had burst +A passage through the rocks: and thence I led +My host unharmed, following her luminous eyes, +Until the East was gray, and with a smile +Wooing me heavenward still she passed away +Into the rosy trouble of the dawn. + +And I believe my love is shrived in heaven, +And I believe that I shall soon be free. + +For ever, as I journey on, to me +Waking or sleeping come faint whisperings +And fancies not of earth, as if the gates +Of near eternity stood for me ajar, +And ghostly gales come blowing o'er my soul +Fraught with the amaranth odors of the skies. +I go to join the Lion-Heart at Acre, +And there, after due homage to my liege, +And after patient penance of the church, +And after final devoir in the fight, +If that my God be gracious, I shall die. +And so I pray--Lord pardon if I sin!-- +That I may lose in death's imbittered wave, +The stain of sinful loving, and may find +In glory again the love I lost below, +With all of fair and bright and unattained, +Beautiful in the cherishing smile of God, +By the glad waters of the River of Life! + +Night hangs above the valley; dies the day +In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, +And warns me to my prayers. _Ave Maria! + Mother of God! the evening fades + On wave and hill and lea_, + +_And in the twilight's deepening shades + We lift our souls to thee! +In passion's stress--the battles strife, + The desert's lurking harms, +Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life + Protect thy men-at-arms!_ + + + + +Translations. + + + +The Way to Heaven + +From the German. + + +One day the Sultan, grand and grim, +Ordered the Mufti brought to him. +"Now let thy wisdom solve for me +The question I shall put to thee. + +"The different tribes beneath my sway +Four several sects of priests obey; +Now tell me which of all the four +Is on the path to Heaven's door." + +The Sultan spake, and then was dumb. +The Mufti looked about the room, +And straight made answer to his lord. +Fearing the bowstring at each word: + +"Thou, godlike in thy lofty birth, +Who art our Allah upon earth, +Illume me with thy favoring ray, +And I will answer as I may. + +"Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, +I see there are four doors in all; +And through all four thy slaves may gaze +Upon the brightness of thy face. + +"That I came hither safely through +Was to thy gracious message due, +And, blinded by thy splendor's flame, +I cannot tell the way I came." + + + + +After Heine: Countess Jutta + +From the German of Heinrich Heine. + + +The Countess Jutta passed over the Rhine +In a light canoe by the moon's pale shine. +The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: +"Seest thou not there where the water breaks + Seven corpses swim + In the moonlight dim? +So sorrowful swim the dead! + +"They were seven knights full of fire and youth, +They sank on my heart and swore me truth. +I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, +Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, + I had them bound, + And tenderly drowned! +So sorrowful swim the dead!" + +The merry Countess laughed outright! +It rang so wild in the startled night! +Up to the waist the dead men rise +And stretch lean fingers to the skies. + They nod and stare + With a glassy glare! +So sorrowful swim the dead! + + + + +A Blessing. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +When I look on thee and feel how dear, + How pure, and how fair thou art, +Into my eyes there steals a tear, +And a shadow mingled of love and fear + Creeps slowly over my heart. + +And my very hands feel as if they would lay + Themselves on thy fair young head, +And pray the good God to keep thee alway +As good and lovely, as pure and gay,-- + When I and my wild love are dead. + + + + +To the Young. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Letyour feet not falter, your course not alter + By golden apples, till victory's won! +The sword's sharp clangor, the dart's shrill anger, + Swerve not the hero thundering on. + +A bold beginning is half the winning, + An Alexander makes worlds his fee. +No long debating! The Queens are waiting + In his pavilion on bended knee. + +Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing, + He mounts old Darius' bed and throne. +O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing! + O drunk death-triumph in Babylon! + + + + +The Golden Calf. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Double flutes and horns resound +As they dance the idol round; +Jacob's daughters, madly reeling, + Whirl about the golden calf. + Hear them laugh! +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Dresses tucked above their knees, +Maids of noblest families, +In the swift dance blindly wheeling, + Circle in their wild career + Round the steer,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Aaron's self, the guardian gray +Of the faith, at last gives way, +Madness all his senses stealing; + Prances in his high priest's coat + Like a goat,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + + + + +The Azra. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Daily walked the fair and lovely +Sultan's daughter in the twilight,-- +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the sparkling waters plash. + +Daily stood the young slave silent +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the plashing waters sparkle, +Pale and paler every day. + +Once by twilight came the princess +Up to him with rapid questions: +"I would know thy name, thy nation, +Whence thou comest, who thou art." + +And the young slave said, "My name is +Mahomet, I come from Yemmen. +I am of the sons of Azra, +Men who perish if they love." + + + + +Good and Bad Luck. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls, + Long in one place she will not stay, +Back from your brow she strokes the curls, + Kisses you quick and flies away. + +But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes + And stays,--no fancy has she for flitting,-- +Snatches of true love-songs she hums, + And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting. + + + + +L'Amour du Mensonge. + +After Charles Baudelaire. + + +When I behold thee, O my indolent love, + To the sound of ringing brazen melodies, +Through garish halls harmoniously move, + Scattering a scornful light from languid eyes; + +When I see, smitten by the blazing lights, + Thy pale front, beauteous in its bloodless glow +As the faint fires that deck the Northern nights, + And eyes that draw me wheresoever I go; + +I say, She is fair, too coldly strange for speech; + A crown of memories, her calm brow above, +Shines; and her heart is like a bruised red peach, + Ripe as her body for intelligent love. + +Art thou late fruit of spicy savor and scent? + A funeral vase awaiting tearful showers? +An Eastern odor, waste and oasis blent? + A silken cushion or a bank of flowers? + +I know there are eyes of melancholy sheen + To which no passionate secrets e'er were given; +Shrines where no god or saint has ever been, + As deep and empty as the vault of Heaven. + +But what care I if this be all pretense? + 'T will serve a heart that seeks for truth no more, +All one thy folly or indifference,-- + Hail, lovely mask, thy beauty I adore! + + + + +Amor Mysticus. + +From the Spanish of Sor Marcela de Carpio. + + +Let them say to my Lover + That here I lie! +The thing of His pleasure, + His slave am I. + +Say that I seek Him + Only for love, +And welcome are tortures + My passion to prove. + +Love giving gifts + Is suspicious and cold; +I have all, my Belovèd, + When Thee I hold. + +Hope and devotion + The good may gain; +I am but worthy + Of passion and pain. + +So noble a Lord + None serves in vain, +For the pay of my love + Is my love's sweet pain. + +I love Thee, to love Thee,-- + No more I desire; +By faith is nourished + My love's strong fire. + +I kiss Thy hands + When I feel their blows; +In the place of caresses + Thou givest me woes. + +But in Thy chastising + Is joy and peace. +O Master and Love, + Let Thy blows not cease. + +Thy beauty, Belovèd, + With scorn is rife, +But I know that Thou lovest me + Better than life. + +And because Thou lovest me, + Lover of mine, +Death can but make me + Utterly Thine. + +I die with longing + Thy face to see; +Oh! sweet is the anguish + Of death to me! + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John Hay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 10518-8.txt or 10518-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/1/10518/ + +Produced by Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10518-8.zip b/old/10518-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..70c82a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10518-8.zip diff --git a/old/10518.txt b/old/10518.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c79160c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10518.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4741 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John Hay + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + +Author: John Hay + +Release Date: December 23, 2003 [EBook #10518] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +POEMS + +By John Hay + + + + +Note to Revised Edition + + + +The Publishers of this volume, desiring to print it in an improved form, +have asked me to write something by way of preface or supplement to the +new edition. After some deliberation I have found myself unable to comply +with this request. These pages were written in the first half of the year +1870, a time of intense interest and importance, to Spain. I left Madrid +in the memorable August of that year, passing through Paris when that +beautiful city was lying in the torpor which followed the wild excitement +of the declaration of war, and preceded the fury of despair that came with +the catastrophe of Sedan. I then intended to return to Spain before long; +and, in fact, few years have passed since that time in which I have not +nourished the dream of revisiting the Peninsula and its scenes of magic +and romance. But many cares and duties have intervened; I have never gone +back to Spain, and I have arrived at an age when I begin to doubt if I +have any castles there requiring my attention. + +I have therefore nothing to add to this little book. Reading it again +after the lapse of many years, I find much that might be advantageously +modified or omitted. But as its merits, if it have any, are merely those +of youth, so also are its faults, and they are immanent and structural; +they cannot be amended without tearing the book to pieces. For this reason +I have confined myself to the correction of the most obvious and flagrant +errors, and can only hope the kindly reader will pass over with an +indulgent smile the rapid judgments, the hot prejudices, the pitiless +condemnations, the lyric eulogies, born of an honest enthusiasm and +unchecked by the reserve which comes of age and experience. I venture to +hope, though with some anxiety and uncertainty, that the honest enthusiasm +may itself be recognized, as well as the candor which the writer tried to +preserve in speaking of things which powerfully appealed to his loves and +his hates. + +I therefore commit this book to the public once more with its +imperfections on its head; with its prophecies unfulfilled, its hopes +baffled, its observations in many instances rendered obsolete by the swift +progress of events. A changed Europe--far different from that which I +traversed twenty years ago--suffers in a new fever-dream of war and +revolution north of the Pyrenees; and beyond those picturesque mountains +the Spanish monarchy enjoys a new lease of life by favor of circumstances +which demand a chronicler of more leisure than myself. I must leave what I +wrote in the midst of the stirring scenes of the interregnum between the +secular monarchy and the short-lived Republic--whose advent I foresaw, but +whose sudden fall was veiled from my sanguine vision--without defense or +apology, claiming only that it was written in good faith, from a heart +filled with passionate convictions and an ardent love and devotion to what +is best in Spain. I recorded what I saw, and my eyes were better then than +now. I trust I have not too often spoken amiss of a people whose art, +whose literature, whose language, and whose character compelled my highest +admiration, and with whom I enjoyed friendships which are among the +dearest recollections of my life. + +John Hay. + +Lafayette Square, Washington, +_April_, 1890. + + + + +Contents. + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + Jim Bludso + Little Breeches + Banty Tim + The Mystery of Gilgal + Golyer + The Pledge at Spunky Point + + +Wanderlieder. + + Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + The Sphinx of the Tuileries + The Surrender of Spain + The Prayer of The Romans + The Curse of Hungary + The Monks of Basle + The Enchanted Shirt + A Woman's Love + On Pitz Languard + Boudoir Prophecies + A Triumph of Order + Ernst of Edelsheim + My Castle in Spain + Sister Saint Luke + + +New And Old. + + Miles Keogh's Horse + The Advance Guard + Love's Prayer + Christine + Expectation + To Flora + A Haunted Room + Dreams + The Light of Love + Quand-Meme + Words + The Stirrup Cup + A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + Liberty + The White Flag + The Law of Death + Mount Tabor + Religion and Doctrine + Sinai and Calvary + The Vision of St. Peter + Israel + Crows at Washington + Remorse + Esse Quam Vlderi + When the Boys Come Home + Lese-Amour + Northward + In the Firelight + In a Graveyard + The Prairie + Centennial + A Winter Night + Student-Song + How It Happened + God's Vengeance + Too Late + Love's Doubt + Lagrimas + On the Bluff + Una + "Through the Long Days and Years" + A Phylactery + Blondine + Distichs + Regardant + Guy of the Temple + + +Translations. + + The Way to Heaven + After Heine: Countess Jutta + + + + +The Pike County Ballads. + + +Jim Bludso, of the Prairie Belle. + + +Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, + Becase he don't live, you see; +Leastways, he's got out of the habit + Of livin' like you and me. +Whar have you been for the last three year + That you haven't heard folks tell +How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks + The night of the Prairie Belle? + +He weren't no saint,--them engineers + Is all pretty much alike, +One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill + And another one here, in Pike; +A keerless man in his talk was Jim, + And an awkward hand in a row, +But he never flunked, and he never lied,-- + I reckon he never knowed how. + +And this was all the religion he had,-- + To treat his engine well; +Never be passed on the river + To mind the pilot's bell; +And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire,-- + A thousand times he swore, +He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last soul got ashore. + +All boats has their day on the Mississip, + And her day come at last, +The Movastar was a better boat, + But the Belle she _would n't_ be passed. +And so she come tearin' along that night-- + The oldest craft on the line-- +With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, + And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. + +The fire bust out as she clared the bar, + And burnt a hole in the night, +And quick as a flash she turned, and made + For that willer-bank on the right. +There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, + Over all the infernal roar, +"I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank + Till the last galoot's ashore." + +Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat + Jim Bludso's voice was heard, +And they all had trust in his cussedness, + And knowed he would keep his word. +And, sure's you're born, they all got off + Afore the smokestacks fell,-- +And Bludso's ghost went up alone + In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. + +He weren't no saint,--but at jedgment + I'd run my chance with Jim, +'Longside of some pious gentlemen + That wouldn't shook hands with him. +He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing,-- + And went for it thar and then; +And Christ ain't a going to be too hard + On a man that died for men. + + + +Little Breeches + + +I don't go much on religion, + I never ain't had no show; +But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, + On the handful o' things I know. +I don't pan out on the prophets + And free-will, and that sort of thing,-- +But I b'lieve in God and the angels, + Ever sence one night last spring. + +I come into town with some turnips, + And my little Gabe come along,-- +No four-year-old in the county + Could beat him for pretty and strong, +Peart and chipper and sassy, + Always ready to swear and fight,-- +And I'd larnt him to chaw terbacker + Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. + +The snow come down like a blanket + As I passed by Taggart's store; +I went in for a jug of molasses + And left the team at the door. +They scared at something and started,-- + I heard one little squall, +And hell-to-split over the prairie + Went team, Little Breeches and all. + +Hell-to-split over the prairie! + I was almost froze with skeer; +But we rousted up some torches, + And sarched for 'em far and near. +At last we struck hosses and wagon, + Snowed under a soft white mound, +Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe + No hide nor hair was found. + +And here all hope soured on me, + Of my fellow-critter's aid,-- +I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, + Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. + + * * * * * + +By this, the torches was played out, + And me and Isrul Parr +Went off for some wood to a sheepfold + That he said was somewhar thar. + +We found it at last, and a little shed + Where they shut up the lambs at night. +We looked in and seen them huddled thar, + So warm and sleepy and white; +And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, + As peart as ever you see, +"I want a chaw of terbacker, + And that's what's the matter of me." + +How did he git thar? Angels. + He could never have walked in that storm +They jest scooped down and toted him + To whar it was safe and warm. +And I think that saving a little child, + And fotching him to his own, +Is a derned sight better business + Than loafing around The Throne. + + + +Banty Tim + +(Remarks of Sergeant Tilmon Joy to The White Man's Committee of Spunky +Point, Illinois.) + + +I reckon I git your drift, gents,-- + You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; +This is a white man's country; + You're Dimocrats, you say; +And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, + The times bein' all out o' j'int, +The nigger has got to mosey + From the limits o' Spunky P'int! + +Le's reason the thing a minute: + I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, +Though I laid my politics out o' the way + For to keep till the war was through. +But I come back here, allowin' + To vote as I used to do, +Though it gravels me like the devil to train + Along o' sich fools as you. + +Now dog my cats ef I kin see, + In all the light of the day, +What you've got to do with the question + Ef Tim shill go or stay. +And furder than that I give notice, + Ef one of you tetches the boy, +He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime + Than he'll find in Illanoy, + +Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me! + You know that ungodly day +When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped + And torn and tattered we lay. +When the rest retreated I stayed behind, + Fur reasons sufficient to me,-- +With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, + I sprawled on that cursed glacee. + +Lord! how the hot sun went for us, + And br'iled and blistered and burned! +How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us + When a cuss in his death-grip turned! +Till along toward dusk I seen a thing + I couldn't believe for a spell: +That nigger--that Tim--was a crawlin' to me + Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! + +The Rebels seen him as quick as me, + And the bullets buzzed like bees; +But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, + Though a shot brought him once to his knees; +But he staggered up, and packed me off, + With a dozen stumbles and falls, +Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, + His black hide riddled with balls. + +So, my gentle gazelles, thar's my answer, + And here stays Banty Tim: +He trumped Death's ace for me that day, + And I'm not goin' back on him! +You may rezoloot till the cows come home + But ef one of you tetches the boy, +He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell. + Or my name's not Tilmon Joy! + + + +The Mystery of Gilgal + + +The darkest, strangest mystery +I ever read, or heern, or see, +Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall,-- + Tom Taggart's of Gilgal. + +I've heern the tale a thousand ways, +But never could git through the maze +That hangs around that queer day's doin's; + But I'll tell the yarn to youans. + +Tom Taggart stood behind his bar, +The time was fall, the skies was fa'r, +The neighbors round the counter drawed, + And ca'mly drinked and jawed. + +At last come Colonel Blood of Pike, +And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like, +And each, as he meandered in, + Remarked, "A whisky-skin" + +Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r, +And slammed it, smoking, on the bar. +Some says three fingers, some says two,-- + I'll leave the choice to you. + +Phinn to the drink put forth his hand; +Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland, +"I ax yer parding, Mister Phinn-- + Jest drap that whisky-skin." + +No man high-toneder could be found +Than old Jedge Phinn the country round. +Says he, "Young man, the tribe of Phinns + Knows their own whisky-skins!" + +He went for his 'leven-inch bowie-knife:-- +"I tries to foller a Christian life; +But I'll drap a slice of liver or two, + My bloomin' shrub, with you." + +They carved in a way that all admired, +Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired. +It took Seth Bludso 'twixt the eyes, + Which caused him great surprise. + +Then coats went off, and all went in; +Shots and bad language swelled the din; +The short, sharp bark of Derringers, + Like bull-pups, cheered the furse. + +They piled the stiffs outside the door; +They made, I reckon, a cord or more. +Girls went that winter, as a rule, + Alone to spellin'-school. + +I've sarched in vain, from Dan to Beer- +Sheba, to make this mystery clear; +But I end with _hit_ as I did begin,-- + WHO GOT THE WHISKY-SKIN?" + + + +Golyer + + +Ef the way a man lights out of this world + Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, +I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben +Will lay over lots of likelier men + For one thing he done down here. + +You didn't know Ben? He driv a stage + On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; +He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, + And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean,-- +No better nor worse than the rest. + +He was hard on women and rough on his friends; + And he didn't have many, I'll let you know; +He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, +But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, + And I guess there's many jess so. + +I've seed my sheer of the run of things, + I've hoofed it a many and many a miled, +But I never seed nothing that could or can +Jest git all the good from the heart of a man + Like the hands of a little child. + +Well! this young one I started to tell you about,-- + His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through,-- +He was just at the age that's loudest for boys, +And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice, + We called him "the Little Boy Blue." + +He ketched a sight of Ben on the box, + And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, +For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; +I tried to tell him it wouldn't do, + When suddingly Golyer growled, + +"What's the use of making the young one cry? + Say, what's the use of being a fool? +Sling the little one up here whar he can see, +He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me,-- + The night ain't any too cool." + +The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; + "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." +And jest as nice as a woman could do, +He wrapped his blanket around them + And was off in the crack of a whip. + +We rattled along an hour or so, + Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. +Did you ever hear an Apache yell? +Well, ye needn't want to, _this_ side of hell; + There's nothing more devilish there. + +Caught in the shower of lead and flint + We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; +Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben, +As he gethered his critters up again, + And tore away with a lunge. + +The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right, + He's druv five year and never was struck." +"Now if _I_'d been thar, as sure as you live, +They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as _a_ sieve; + It's the reg'lar Golyer luck." + +Over hill and holler and ford and creek + Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; +We got to Looney's, and Ben come in +And laid down the baby and axed for his gin, + And dropped in a heap on the floor. + +Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid,-- + Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; +And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball,-- +Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." +Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall,-- + And he carried his thanks to God + + + +The Pledge at Spunky Point + +A Tale of Earnest Effort and Human Perfidy. + + +It's all very well for preaching + But preachin' and practice don't gee: +I've give the thing a fair trial, + And you can't ring it in on me. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + Ef that's what you want me to sign; +Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, + And I'll not take any in mine. + +A year ago last Fo'th July + A lot of the boys was here. +We all got corned and signed the pledge + For to drink no more that year. +There was Tilman Joy and Sheriff McPhail + And me and Abner Fry, +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. + +And we anteed up a hundred + In the hands of Deacon Kedge +For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th + 'Mongst the boys that kep' the pledge. +And we knowed each other so well, Squire, + You may take my scalp for a fool, +Ef every man when he signed his name + Didn't feel cock-sure of the pool. + +Fur a while it all went lovely; + We put up a job next day +Fur to make Joy b'lieve his wife was dead, + And he went home middlin' gay; +Then Abner Fry he killed a man + And afore he was hung McPhail +Jest bilked the widder outen her sheer + By getting him slewed in jail. + +But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, + The egg-nogs gethered him in; +And Shelby's boy Leviticus + Was, New Year's, tight as sin; +And along in March the Golyers + Got so drunk that a fresh-biled owl +Would 'a' looked 'long-side o' them two young men, + Like a sober temperance fowl. + +Four months alone I walked the chalk, + I thought my heart would break; +And all them boys a-slappin' my back + And axin', "What'll you take?" +I never slep' without dreamin' dreams + Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, +But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore + I'd rake that pool or die. + +At last--the Fo'th--I humped myself + Through chores and breakfast soon, +Then scooted down to Taggarts' store-- + For the pledge was off at noon; +And all the boys was gethered thar, + And each man hilt his glass-- +Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like + Fur to see the last minute pass. + +The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug + And took one lovin' pull +I was holler clar from skull to boots, + It seemed I couldn't git full. +But I was roused by a fiendish laugh + That might have raised the dead-- +Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock + A half an hour ahead! + +"All right!" I squawked. "You've got me, + Jest order your drinks agin, +And we'll paddle up to the Deacon's + And scoop the ante in." +But when we got to Kedge's, + What a sight was that we saw! +The Deacon and Parson Skeeters + In the tail of a game of Draw. + +They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', + The Parson's luck was fa'r, +And he raked, the minute we got thar, + The last of our pool on a pa'r. +So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, + I 'low it's all very fine, +But ez fur myself, I thank ye, + I'll not take any in mine. + + + + +Wanderlieder. + + + +Sunrise in the Place de la Concorde + +(Paris, _August_, 1865.) + + +I stand at the break of day + In the Champs Elysees. +The tremulous shafts of dawning +As they shoot o'er the Tuileries early, +Strike Luxor's cold gray spire, +And wild in the light of the morning +With their marble manes on fire, +Ramp the white Horses of Marly. + +But the Place of Concord lies +Dead hushed 'neath the ashy skies. +And the Cities sit in council +With sleep in their wide stone eyes. +I see the mystic plain +Where the army of spectres slain +In the Emperor's life-long war +March on with unsounding tread +To trumpets whose voice is dead. +Their spectral chief still leads them,-- +The ghostly flash of his sword +Like a comet through mist shines far,-- +And the noiseless host is poured, +For the gendarme never heeds them, +Up the long dim road where thundered +The army of Italy onward +Through the great pale Arch of the Star! + +The spectre army fades +Far up the glimmering hill, +But, vaguely lingering still, +A group of shuddering shades +Infects the pallid air, +Growing dimmer as day invades +The hush of the dusky square. +There is one that seems a King, +As if the ghost of a Crown +Still shadowed his jail-bleached hair; +I can hear the guillotine ring, +As its regicide note rang there, +When he laid his tired life down +And grew brave in his last despair. +And a woman frail and fair +Who weeps at leaving a world +Of love and revel and sin +In the vast Unknown to be hurled; +(For life was wicked and sweet +With kings at her small white feet!) +And one, every inch a Queen, +In life and in death a Queen, +Whose blood baptized the place, +In the days of madness and fear,-- +Her shade has never a peer +In majesty and grace. + +Murdered and murderers swarm; +Slayers that slew and were slain, +Till the drenched place smoked with the rain +That poured in a torrent warm,-- +Till red as the Rider's of Edom +Were splashed the white garments of Freedom +With the wash of the horrible storm! + +And Liberty's hands were not clean +In the day of her pride unchained, +Her royal hands were stained +With the life of a King and Queen; +And darker than that with the blood +Of the nameless brave and good +Whose blood in witness clings +More damning than Queens' and Kings'. + +Has she not paid it dearly? +Chained, watching her chosen nation +Grinding late and early +In the mills of usurpation? +Have not her holy tears +Flowing through shameful years, +Washed the stains from her tortured hands? +We thought so when God's fresh breeze, +Blowing over the sleeping lands, +In 'Forty-Eight waked the world, +And the Burgher-King was hurled +From that palace behind the trees. + +As Freedom with eyes aglow +Smiled glad through her childbirth pain, +How was the mother to know +That her woe and travail were vain? +A smirking servant smiled +When she gave him her child to keep; +Did she know he would strangle the child +As it lay in his arms asleep? + +Liberty's cruellest shame! +She is stunned and speechless yet +In her grief and bloody sweat +Shall we make her trust her blame? +The treasure of 'Forty-Eight +A lurking jail-bird stole, +She can but watch and wait +As the swift sure seasons roll. + +And when in God's good hour +Comes the time of the brave and true, +Freedom again shall rise +With a blaze in her awful eyes +That shall wither this robber-power +As the sun now dries the dew. +This Place shall roar with the voice +Of the glad triumphant people, +And the heavens be gay with the chimes +Ringing with jubilant noise +From every clamorous steeple +The coming of better times. +And the dawn of Freedom waking +Shall fling its splendors far +Like the day which now is breaking +On the great pale Arch of the Star, +And back o'er the town shall fly, +While the joy-bells wild are ringing, +To crown the Glory springing +From the Column of July! + + + +The Sphinx of the Tuileries + + +Out of the Latin Quarter + I came to the lofty door +Where the two marble Sphinxes guard + The Pavilion de Flore. +Two Cockneys stood by the gate, and one + Observed, as they turned to go, +"No wonder He likes that sort of thing,-- + He's a Sphinx himself, you know." + +I thought as I walked where the garden glowed + In the sunset's level fire, +Of the Charlatan whom the Frenchmen loathe + And the Cockneys all admire. +They call him a Sphinx,--it pleases him,-- + And if we narrowly read, +We will find some truth in the flunkey's praise, + The man is a Sphinx indeed. + +For the Sphinx with breast of woman + And face so debonair +Had the sleek false paws of a lion, + That could furtively seize and tear. +So far to the shoulders,--but if you took + The Beast in reverse you would find +The ignoble form of a craven cur + Was all that lay behind. + +She lived by giving to simple folk + A silly riddle to read, +And when they failed she drank their blood + In cruel and ravenous greed. +But at last came one who knew her word, + And she perished in pain and shame,-- +This bastard Sphinx leads the same base life + And his end will be the same. + +For an Oedipus-People is coming fast + With swelled feet limping on, +If they shout his true name once aloud + His false foul power is gone. +Afraid to fight and afraid to fly, + He cowers in an abject shiver; +The people will come to their own at last,-- + God is not mocked forever. + + + +The Surrender of Spain + + +I. + +Land of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campeador! +Sea-girdled mother of men! Spain, name of glory and power; +Cradle of world-grasping Emperors, grave of the reckless invader, +How art thou fallen, my Spain! how art thou sunk at this hour! + + +II. + +Once thy magnanimous sons trod, victors, the portals of Asia, +Once the Pacific waves rushed, joyful thy banners to see; +For it was Trajan that carried the battle-flushed eagles to Dacia, +Cortes that planted thy flag fast by the uttermost sea. + +III. + +Has thou forgotten those days illumined with glory and honor, +When the far isles of the sea thrilled to the tread of Castile? +When every land under Heaven was flecked by the shade of thy banner,-- +When every beam of the sun flashed on thy conquering steel? + +IV. + +Then through red fields of slaughter, through death and defeat and disaster, +Still flared thy banner aloft, tattered, but free from a stain, +Now to the upstart Savoyard thou bendest to beg for a master! +How the red flush of her shame mars the proud beauty of Spain! + + +V. + +Has the red blood run cold that boiled by the Xenil and Darro? +Are the high deeds of the sires sung to the children no more? +On the dun hills of the North hast thou heard of no plough-boy Pizarro? +Roams no young swine-herd Cortes hid by the Tagus' wild shore? + + +VI. + +Once again does Hispania bend low to the yoke of the stranger! +Once again will she rise, flinging her gyves in the sea! +Princeling of Piedmont! unwitting thou weddest with doubt and with danger, +King over men who have learned all that it costs to be free. + + + +The Prayer of The Romans + + +Not done, but near its ending, + Is the work that our eyes desired; +Not yet fulfilled, but near the goal, + Is the hope that our worn hearts fired. +And on the Alban Mountains, + Where the blushes of dawn increase, +We see the flash of the beautiful feet + Of Freedom and of Peace! + +How long were our fond dreams baffled!-- + Novara's sad mischance, +The Kaiser's sword and fetter-lock, + And the traitor stab of France; +Till at last came glorious Venice, + In storm and tempest home; +And now God maddens the greedy kings, + And gives to her people Rome. + +Lame Lion of Caprera! + Red-shirts of the lost campaigns! +Not idly shed was the costly blood + You poured from generous veins. +For the shame of Aspromonte, + And the stain of Mentana's sod, +But forged the curse of kings that sprang + From your breaking hearts to God! + +We lift our souls to thee, O Lord + Of Liberty and of Light! +Let not earth's kings pollute the work + That was done in their despite; +Let not thy light be darkened + In the shade of a sordid crown, +Nor pampered swine devour the fruit + Thou shook'st with an earthquake down! + +Let the People come to their birthright, + And crosier and crown pass away +Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes + At the glance of the clean, white day. +And then from the lava of Aetna + To the ice of the Alps let there be +One freedom, one faith without fetters, + One republic in Italy free! + + + +The Curse of Hungary + + +Saloman looked from his donjon bars, +Where the Danube clamors through sedge and sand, +And he cursed with a curse his revolting land,-- +With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. + +He said: "May this false land know no truth! +May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, +And a greed of glory but live to nourish +Envy and hate in its restless youth. + +"In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust, +While the sword grows bright with its fatal labor, +And blackens between each man and neighbor-- +The perilous cloud of a vague distrust! + +"Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, +And each to the other as unknown things, +That with links of hatred and pride the kings +May forge firm fetters through each for all! + +"May a king wrong them as they wronged their king! +May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, +Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, +And to women and monks their birthright fling!" + +The mad king died; but the rushing river +Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, +And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands +That the curse of King Saloman works forever. + +For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers +Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts +That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts,-- +A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears! + +And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, +Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, +As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown +And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. + +And latest they saw in the summer glare +The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, +To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, +A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. + +But ever the same sad play they saw, +The same weak worship of sword and crown, +The noble crushing the humble down, +And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law. + +The donjon stands by the turbid river, +But Time is crumbling its battered towers; +And the slow light withers a despot's powers, +And a mad king's curse is not forever! + + + +The Monks of Basle + + +I tore this weed from the rank, dark soil + Where it grew in the monkish time, +I trimmed it close and set it again + In a border of modern rhyme. + + +I. + +Long years ago, when the Devil was loose + And faith was sorely tried, +Three monks of Basle went out to walk + In the quiet eventide. + +A breeze as pure as the breath of Heaven + Blew fresh through the cloister-shades, +A sky as glad as the smile of Heaven + Blushed rose o'er the minster-glades. + +But scorning the lures of summer and sense, + The monks passed on in their walk; +Their eyes were abased, their senses slept, + Their souls were in their talk. + +In the tough grim talk of the monkish days + They hammered and slashed about,-- +Dry husks of logic,--old scraps of creed,-- + And the cold gray dreams of doubt,-- + +And whether Just or Justified + Was the Church's mystic Head,-- +And whether the Bread was changed to God, + Or God became the Bread + +But of human hearts outside their walls + They never paused to dream, +And they never thought of the love of God + That smiled in the twilight gleam. + +II. + +As these three monks went bickering on + By the foot of a spreading tree, +Out from its heart of verdurous gloom + A song burst wild and free,-- + +A wordless carol of life and love, + Of nature free and wild; +And the three monks paused in the evening shade + Looked up at each other and smiled. + +And tender and gay the bird sang on, + And cooed and whistled and trilled, +And the wasteful wealth of life and love + From his happy heart was spilled. + +The song had power on the grim old monks + In the light of the rosy skies; +And as they listened the years rolled back, + And tears came into their eyes. + +The years rolled back and they were young, + With the hearts and hopes of men, +They plucked the daisies and kissed the girls + Of dear dead summers again. + + +III. + +But the eldest monk soon broke the spell; + "'Tis sin and shame," quoth he, +"To be turned from talk of holy things + By a bird's cry from a tree. + +"Perchance the Enemy of Souls + Hath come to tempt us so. +Let us try by the power of the Awful Word + If it be he, or no!" + +To Heaven the three monks raised their hands + "We charge thee, speak!" they said, +"By His dread Name who shall one day come + To judge the quick and the dead,-- + +"Who art thou? Speak!" The bird laughed loud + "I am the Devil," he said. +The monks on their faces fell, the bird + Away through the twilight sped. + +A horror fell on those holy men, + (The faithful legends say,) +And one by one from the face of earth + They pined and vanished away. + + +IV. + +So goes the tale of the monkish books, + The moral who runs may read,-- +He has no ears for Nature's voice + Whose soul is the slave of creed. + +Not all in vain with beauty and love + Has God the world adorned; +And he who Nature scorns and mocks, + By Nature is mocked and scorned. + + + +The Enchanted Shirt + + + Fytte the First: _wherein it shall be shown how the Truth is too mighty + a Drug for such as he of feeble temper_. + + +The King was sick. His cheek was red + And his eye was clear and bright; +He ate and drank with a kingly zest, + And peacefully snored at night. + +But he said he was sick, and a king should know, + And doctors came by the score. +They did not cure him. He cut off their heads + And sent to the schools for more. + +At last two famous doctors came, + And one was as poor as a rat, +He had passed his life in studious toil, + And never found time to grow fat. + +The other had never looked in a book; + His patients gave him no trouble, +If they recovered they paid him well, + If they died their heirs paid double. + +Together they looked at the royal tongue, + As the King on his couch reclined; +In succession they thumped his august chest, + But no trace of disease could find. + +The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." + "Hang him up," roared the King in a gale,-- +In a ten-knot gale of royal rage; + The other leech grew a shade pale; + +But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, + And thus his prescription ran,-- +_King will be well, if he sleeps one night + In the Shirt of a Happy Man_. + + + Fytte the Second: _tells of the search for the Shirt and how it was nigh + found but was not, for reasons which are said or sung_. + +Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, + And fast their horses ran, +And many they saw, and to many they spoke, + But they found no Happy Man. + +They found poor men who would fain be rich, + And rich who thought they were poor; +And men who twisted their waists in stays, + And women that shorthose wore. + +They saw two men by the roadside sit, + And both bemoaned their lot; +For one had buried his wife, he said, + And the other one had not. + +At last as they came to a village gate, + A beggar lay whistling there; +He whistled and sang and laughed and rolled + On the grass in the soft June air. + +The weary couriers paused and looked + At the scamp so blithe and gay; +And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend! + You seem to be happy to-day." + +"O yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed + And his voice rang free and glad, +"An idle man has so much to do + That he never has time to be sad." + +"This is our man," the courier said; + "Our luck has led us aright. +"I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, + For the loan of your shirt to-night." + +The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, + And laughed till his face was black; +"I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun, + "But I haven't a shirt to my back." + + + Fytte the Third: _shewing how His Majesty the King came at last to sleep + in a Happy Man his Shirt_. + +Each day to the King the reports came in + Of his unsuccessful spies, +And the sad panorama of human woes + Passed daily under his eyes. + +And he grew ashamed of his useless life, + And his maladies hatched in gloom; +He opened his windows and let the air + Of the free heaven into his room. + +And out he went in the world and toiled + In his own appointed way; +And the people blessed him, the land was glad, + And the King was well and gay. + + + +A Woman's Love + + +A sentinel angel sitting high in glory +Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: +"Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! + +"I loved,--and, blind with passionate love, I fell. +Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. +For God is just, and death for sin is well. + +"I do not rage against his high decree, +Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be; +But for my love on earth who mourns for me. + +"Great Spirit! Let me see my love again; +And comfort him one hour, and I were fain +To pay a thousand years of fire and pain." + +Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent +That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent +Down to the last hour of thy punishment!" + +But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go! +I cannot rise to peace and leave him so. +O, let me soothe him in his bitter woe!" + +The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, +And upward, joyous, like a rising star, +She rose and vanished in the ether far. + +But soon adown the dying sunset sailing, +And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing, +She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing. + +She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea +Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee,-- +She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!" + +She wept, "Now let my punishment begin! +I have been fond and foolish. Let me in +To expiate my sorrow and my sin." + +The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher! +To be deceived in your true heart's desire +Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire!" + + + +On Pitz Languard + + +I stood on the top of Pitz Languard, + And heard three voices whispering low, +Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward + Made swift dark shadows upon the snow. + + +_First voice_. + +I loved a girl with truth and pain, + She loved me not. When she said good by +She gave me a kiss to sting and stain + My broken life to a rosy dye. + + +_Second voice_. + +I loved a woman with love well tried,-- + And I swear I believe she loves me still. +But it was not I who stood by her side + When she answered the priest and said "I will." + + +_Third voice._ + +I loved two girls, one fond, one shy, + And I never divined which one loved me. +One married, and now, though I can't tell why. + Of the four in the story I count but three. + + +The three weird voices whispered low + Where the eagles swept in their circling ward; +But only one shadow scarred the snow + As I clambered down from Pitz Languard. + + + +Boudoir Prophecies + + +One day in the Tuileries, + When a southwest Spanish breeze + Brought scandalous news of the Queen, +The fair proud Empress said, +"My good friend loses her head; + If matters go on this way, + I shall see her shopping, some day, + In the Boulevard des Capucines." + +The saying swiftly went +To the Place of the Orient, + And the stout Queen sneered, "Ah, well! + You are proud and prude, ma belle! +But I think I will hazard a guess +I shall see you one day playing chess + With the Cure of Carabanchel." + +Both ladies, though not over-wise, +Were lucky in prophecies. + For the Boulevard shopmen well + Know the form of stout Isabel + As she buys her modes de Paris; +And after Sedan in despair +The Empress prude and fair +Went to visit Madame sa Mere + In her villa at Carabanchel-- + But the Queen was not there to see. + + + +A Triumph of Order + + +A Squad of regular infantry + In the Commune's closing days, +Had captured a crowd of rebels + By the wall of Pere-la-Chaise. + +There were desperate men, wild women, + And dark-eyed Amazon girls, +And one little boy, with a peach-down cheek + And yellow clustering curls. + +The captain seized the little waif, + And said, "What dost thou here?" +"Sapristi, Citizen captain! + I'm a Communist, my dear!" + +"Very well! Then you die with the others!" + --"Very well! That's my affair; +But first let me take to my mother, + Who lives by the wine-shop there, + +"My father's watch. You see it; + A gay old thing, is it not? +It would please the old lady to have it, + Then I'll come back here, and be shot. + +"That is the last we shall see of him," + The grizzled captain grinned, +As the little man skimmed down the hill, + Like a swallow down the wind. + +For the joy of killing had lost its zest + In the glut of those awful days, +And Death writhed, gorged like a greedy snake, + From the Arch to Pere-la-Chaise. + +But before the last platoon had fired, + The child's shrill voice was heard; +"Houp-la! the old girl made such a row + I feared I should break my word." + +Against the bullet-pitted wall + He took his place with the rest, +A button was lost from his ragged blouse, + Which showed his soft white breast. + +"Now blaze away, my children! + With your little one-two-three!" +The Chassepots tore the stout young heart, + And saved Society. + + + +Ernst of Edelsheim + + +I'll tell the story, kissing + This white hand for my pains: +No sweeter heart, nor falser + E'er filled such fine, blue veins. + +I'll sing a song of true love, + My Lilith dear! to you; +_Contraria contrariis_-- + The rule is old and true. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim; +And why he was the happiest, + I'll tell you in my rhyme. + +One summer night he wandered + Within a lonely glade, +And, couched in moss and moonlight, + He found a sleeping maid. + +The stars of midnight sifted + Above her sands of gold; +She seemed a slumbering statue, + So fair and white and cold. + +Fair and white and cold she lay + Beneath the starry skies; +Rosy was her waking + Beneath the Ritter's eyes. + +He won her drowsy fancy, + He bore her to his towers, +And swift with love and laughter + Flew morning's purpled hours. + +But when the thickening sunbeams + Had drunk the gleaming dew, +A misty cloud of sorrow + Swept o'er her eyes' deep blue. + +She hung upon the Ritter's neck, +S he wept with love and pain, +She showered her sweet, warm kisses + Like fragrant summer rain. + +"I am no Christian soul," she sobbed, + As in his arms she lay; +"I'm half the day a woman, + A serpent half the day. + +"And when from yonder bell-tower + Rings out the noonday chime, +Farewell! farewell forever, + Sir Ernst of Edelsheim!" + +"Ah! not farewell forever!" + The Ritter wildly cried, +"I will be saved or lost with thee, + My lovely Wili-Bride!" + +Loud from the lordly bell-tower + Rang out the noon of day, +And from the bower of roses + A serpent slid away. + +But when the mid-watch moonlight + Was shimmering through the grove, +He clasped his bride thrice dowered + With beauty and with love. + +The happiest of all lovers + Was Ernst of Edelsheim-- +His true love was a serpent + Only half the time! + + + +My Castle in Spain + + +There was never a castle seen + So fair as mine in Spain: +It stands embowered in green, + Crowning the gentle slope +Of a hill by the Xenil's shore, +And at eve its shade flaunts o'er + The storied Vega plain, +And its towers are hid in the mists of Hope; + And I toil through years of pain + Its glimmering gates to gain. + +In visions wild and sweet +Sometimes its courts I greet: + Sometimes in joy its shining halls +I tread with favored feet; +But never my eyes in the light of day + Were blest with its ivied walls, +Where the marble white and the granite gray +Turn gold alike when the sunbeams play, + When the soft day dimly falls. + +I know in its dusky rooms + Are treasures rich and rare; +The spoil of Eastern looms, + And whatever of bright and fair +Painters divine have caught and won + From the vault of Italy's air: +White gods in Phidian stone + People the haunted glooms; +And the song of immortal singers +Like a fragrant memory lingers, + I know, in the echoing rooms. + +But nothing of these, my soul! + Nor castle, nor treasures, nor skies, +Nor the waves of the river that roll + With a cadence faint and sweet + In peace by its marble feet-- +Nothing of these is the goal + For which my whole heart sighs. +'Tis the pearl gives worth to the shell-- + The pearl I would die to gain; +For there does my lady dwell, +My love that I love so well-- + The Queen whose gracious reign + Makes glad my Castle in Spain. + +Her face so pure and fair + Sheds light in the shady places, +And the spell of her girlish graces + Holds charmed the happy air. +A breath of purity + Forever before her flies, +And ill things cease to be + In the glance of her honest eyes. +Around her pathway flutter, + Where her dear feet wander free + In youth's pure majesty, + The wings of the vague desires; +But the thought that love would utter + In reverence expires. + +Not yet! not yet shall I see + That face which shines like a star + O'er my storm-swept life afar, +Transfigured with love for me. +Toiling, forgetting, and learning +With labor and vigils and prayers, + Pure heart and resolute will, + At last I shall climb the hill +And breathe the enchanted airs +Where the light of my life is burning + Most lovely and fair and free, +Where alone in her youth and beauty, +And bound by her fate's sweet duty, + Unconscious she waits for me. + + + +Sister Saint Luke + + +She lived shut in by flowers and trees + And shade of gentle bigotries. +On this side lay the trackless sea, +On that the great world's mystery; +But all unseen and all unguessed +They could not break upon her rest. +The world's far splendors gleamed and flashed, +Afar the wild seas foamed and dashed; +But in her small, dull Paradise, +Safe housed from rapture or surprise, +Nor day nor night had power to fright +The peace of God that filled her eyes. + + + + +New and Old. + + + +Miles Keogh's Horse + + +On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn, + At the close of a woful day, +Custer and his Three Hundred + In death and silence lay. + +Three Hundred to three Thousand! + They had bravely fought and bled; +For such is the will of Congress + When the White man meets the Red. + +The White men are ten millions, + The thriftiest under the sun; +The Reds are fifty thousand, + And warriors every one. + +So Custer and all his fighting men + Lay under the evening skies, +Staring up at the tranquil heaven + With wide, accusing eyes. + +And of all that stood at noonday + In that fiery scorpion ring, +Miles Keogh's horse at evening + Was the only living thing. + +Alone from that field of slaughter, + Where lay the three hundred slain, +The horse Comanche wandered, + With Keogh's blood on his mane. + +And Sturgis issued this order, + Which future times shall read, +While the love and honor of comrades + Are the soul of the soldier's creed. + +He said-- + _Let the horse Comanche + Henceforth till he shall die, +Be kindly cherished and cared for + By the Seventh Cavalry + +He shall do no labor; he never shall know + The touch of spur or rein; +Nor shall his back be ever crossed + By living rider again + +And at regimental formation + Of the Seventh Cavalry_, +_Comanche draped in mourning and led + By a trooper of Company + +Shall parade with the Regiment!_ + + Thus it was + Commanded and thus done, +By order of General Sturgis, signed + By Adjutant Garlington. + +Even as the sword of Custer, + In his disastrous fall, +Flashed out a blaze that charmed the world + And glorified his pall, + +This order, issued amid the gloom + That shrouds our army's name, +When all foul beasts are free to rend + And tear its honest fame, + +Shall prove to a callous people + That the sense of a soldier's worth, +That the love of comrades, the honor of arms, + Have not yet perished from earth. + + + +The Advance Guard + + +In the dream of the Northern poets, + The brave who in battle die +Fight on in shadowy phalanx + In the field of the upper sky; +And as we read the sounding rhyme, + The reverent fancy hears +The ghostly ring of the viewless swords + And the clash of the spectral spears. + +We think with imperious questionings + Of the brothers whom we have lost, +And we strive to track in death's mystery + The flight of each valiant ghost. +The Northern myth comes back to us, + And we feel, through our sorrow's night, +That those young souls are striving still + Somewhere for the truth and light. + +It was not their time for rest and sleep; + Their hearts beat high and strong; +In their fresh veins the blood of youth + Was singing its hot, sweet song. +The open heaven bent over them, + Mid flowers their lithe feet trod, +Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest + By the smiles of women and God. + +Again they come! Again I hear + The tread of that goodly band; +I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye + And the grasp of his hard, warm hand; +And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart, + And an eye like a Boston girl's; +And I see the light of heaven which lay + On Ulric Dahlgren's curls. + +There is no power in the gloom of hell + To quench those spirits' fire; +There is no power in the bliss of heaven + To bid them not aspire; +But somewhere in the eternal plan + That strength, that life survive, +And like the files on Lookout's crest, + Above death's clouds they strive. + +A chosen corps, they are marching on + In a wider field than ours; +Those bright battalions still fulfill + The scheme of the heavenly powers; +And high brave thoughts float down to us, + The echoes of that far fight, +Like the flash of a distant picket's gun + Through the shades of the severing night. + +No fear for them! In our lower field + Let us keep our arms unstained, +That at last we be worthy to stand with them + On the shining heights they've gained. +We shall meet and greet in closing ranks + In Time's declining sun, +When the bugles of God shall sound recall + And the battle of life be won. + + + +Love's Prayer + + +If Heaven would hear my prayer, + My dearest wish would be, +Thy sorrows not to share + But take them all on me; +If Heaven would hear my prayer. + +I'd beg with prayers and sighs + That never a tear might flow +From out thy lovely eyes, + If Heaven might grant it so; +Mine be the tears and sighs. + +No cloud thy brow should cover, + But smiles each other chase +From lips to eyes all over + Thy sweet and sunny face; +The clouds my heart should cover. + +That all thy path be light + Let darkness fall on me; +If all thy days be bright, + Mine black as night could be; +My love would light my night. + +For thou art more than life, + And if our fate should set +Life and my love at strife, + How could I then forget +I love thee more than life? + + + +Christine + + +The beauty of the northern dawns, + Their pure, pale light is thine; +Yet all the dreams of tropic nights + Within thy blue eyes shine. +Not statelier in their prisoning seas + The icebergs grandly move, +But in thy smile is youth and joy, + And in thy voice is love. + +Thou art like Hecla's crest that stands + So lonely, proud, and high, +No earthly thing may come between + Her summit and the sky. +The sun in vain may strive to melt + Her crown of virgin snow-- +But the great heart of the mountain glows + With deathless fire below. + + + +Expectation + + +Roll on, O shining sun, + To the far seas, +Bring down, ye shades of eve, + The soft, salt breeze! +Shine out, O stars, and light +My darling's pathway bright, +As through the summer night + She comes to me. + +No beam of any star + Can match her eyes; +Her smile the bursting day + In light outvies. +Her voice--the sweetest thing +Heard by the raptured spring +When waking wild-woods ring-- + She comes to me. + +Ye stars, more swiftly wheel, + O'er earth's still breast; +More wildly plunge and reel + In the dim west! +The earth is lone and lorn, +Till the glad day be born, +Till with the happy morn + She comes to me. + + + +To Flora + + +When April woke the drowsy flowers, + And vagrant odors thronged the breeze, +And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, + And daisies flashed along the leas, +And faint arbutus strove among + Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise, +And nature's sweetly jubilant song + Went murmuring up the sunny skies, +Into this cheerful world you came, +And gained by right your vernal name. + +I think the springs have changed of late, + For "Arctics" are my daily wear, +The skies are turned to cold gray slate, + And zephyrs are but draughts of air; +But you make up whatever we lack, + When we, too rarely, come together, +More potent than the almanac, + You bring the ideal April weather; +When you are with us we defy +The blustering air, the lowering sky; +In spite of Winter's icy darts, +We've spring and sunshine in our hearts. + +In fine, upon this April day, + This deep conundrum I will bring: +Tell me the two good reasons, pray, + I have, to say you are like spring? + +[You give it up?] Because we love you-- + And see so very little of you. + + + +A Haunted Room + + +In the dim chamber whence but yesterday + Passed my beloved, filled with awe I stand; + And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand +Whisper her praises who is far away. +A thousand delicate fancies glance and play + On every object which her robes have fanned, + And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand +In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray. +Ah! could that glass but hold the faintest trace + Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, + The clustering glory of the shadowy hair +That framed so well the dear young angel face! + But no, it shows my own face, full of care, +And my heart is her beauty's dwelling-place. + + + +Dreams + + +I love a woman tenderly, +But cannot know if she loves me. +I press her hand, her lips I kiss, +But still love's full assurance miss, +Our waking life forever seems +Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams. + +But love and night and sleep combine +In dreams to make her wholly mine. +A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, +Her hands and lips are warm and true. +Always the fact unreal seems, +And truth I find alone in dreams. + + + +The Light of Love + + +Each shining light above us + Has its own peculiar grace; +But every light of heaven + Is in my darling's face. + +For it is like the sunlight, + So strong and pure and warm, +That folds all good and happy things, + And guards from gloom and harm. + +And it is like the moonlight, + So holy and so calm; +The rapt peace of a summer night, + When soft winds die in balm. + +And it is like the starlight; + For, love her as I may, +She dwells still lofty and serene + In mystery far away. + + + +Quand-Meme + + +I strove, like Israel, with my youth, + And said, Till thou bestow +Upon my life Love's joy and truth, + I will not let thee go. + +And sudden on my night there woke + The trouble of the dawn; +Out of the east the red light broke, + To broaden on and on. + +And now let death be far or nigh, + Let fortune gloom or shine, +I cannot all untimely die, + For love, for love is mine. + +My days are tuned to finer chords, + And lit by higher suns;, +Through all my thoughts and all my words + A purer purpose runs. + +The blank page of my heart grows rife + With wealth of tender lore; +Her image, stamped upon my life, + Gives value evermore. + +She is so noble, firm, and true, + I drink truth from her eyes, +As violets gain the heaven's own blue + In gazing at the skies. + +No matter if my hands attain + The golden crown or cross +Only to love is such a gain + That losing is not loss. + +And thus whatever fate betide + Of rapture or of pain, +If storm or sun the future hide, + My love is not in vain. + +So only thanks are on my lips; + And through my love I see +My earliest dreams, like freighted ships, + Come sailing home to me. + + + +Words + + +When violets were springing + And sunshine filled the day, +And happy birds were singing + The praises of the May, +A word came to me, blighting + The beauty of the scene, +And in my heart was winter, + Though all the trees were green. + +Now down the blast go sailing + The dead leaves, brown and sere; +The forests are bewailing + The dying of the year; +A word comes to me, lighting + With rapture all the air, +And in my heart is summer, + Though all the trees are bare. + + + +The Stirrup Cup + + +My short and happy day is done, +The long and dreary night comes on; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To carry me to unknown lands. + +His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof, +Sound dreadful as a gathering storm; +And I must leave this sheltering roof, +And joys of life so soft and warm. + +Tender and warm the joys of life,-- +Good friends, the faithful and the true; +My rosy children and my wife, +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view. + +So sweet to kiss, so fair to view,-- +The night comes down, the lights burn blue; +And at my door the Pale Horse stands, +To bear me forth to unknown lands. + + + +A Dream of Bric-a-Brac + + +[C.K. _loquitur_.] + +I dreamed I was in fair Niphon. +Amid tea-fields I journeyed on, +Reclined in my jinrikishaw; +Across the rolling plains I saw +The lordly Fusi-yama rise, +His blue cone lost in bluer skies. + +At last I bade my bearers stop +Before what seemed a china-shop. +I roused myself and entered in. +A fearful joy, like some sweet sin, +Pierced through my bosom as I gazed, +Entranced, transported, and amazed. + +For all the house was but one room, +And in its clear and grateful gloom, +Filled with all odors strange and strong +That to the wondrous East belong, +I saw above, around, below, +A sight to make the warm heart glow, +And leave the eager soul no lack, +An endless wealth of bric-a-brac. + +I saw bronze statues, old and rare, +Fashioned by no mere mortal skill, +With robes that fluttered in the air, +Blown out by Art's eternal will; +And delicate ivory netsukes, +Richer in tone than Cheddar cheese, +Of saints and hermits, cats and dogs, +Grim warriors and ecstatic frogs. + +And here and there those wondrous masks, +More living flesh than sandal-wood, +Where the full soul in pleasure basks +And dreams of love, the only good. +The walls were all with pictures hung: +Gay villas bright in rain-washed air, +Trees to whose boughs brown monkeys clung, +Outlineless dabs of fuzzy hair. +And all about the opulent shelves +Littered with porcelain beyond price: +Imari pots arrayed themselves +Beside Ming dishes; grain-of-rice +Vied with the Royal Satsuma, +Proud of its sallow ivory beam; +And Kaga's Thousand Hermits lay +Tranced in some punch-bowl's golden gleam. +Over bronze censers, black with age, +The five-clawed dragons strife engage; +A curled and insolent Dog of Foo +Sniffs at the smoke aspiring through. + +In what old days, in what far lands, +What busy brains, what cunning hands, +With what quaint speech, what alien thought, +Strange fellow-men these marvels wrought! + +As thus I mused, I was aware +There grew before my eager eyes +A little maid too bright and fair, +Too strangely lovely for surprise. +It seemed the beauty of the place +Had suddenly become concrete, +So full was she of Orient grace, +From her slant eyes and burnished face +Down to her little gold-bronze feet. + +She was a girl of old Japan; +Her small hand held a gilded fan, +Which scattered fragrance through the room; +Her cheek was rich with pallid bloom, +Her eye was dark with languid fire, +Her red lips breathed a vague desire; +Her teeth, of pearl inviolate, +Sweetly proclaimed her maiden state. +Her garb was stiff with broidered gold +Twined with mysterious fold on fold, +That gave no hint where, hidden well, +Her dainty form might warmly dwell,-- +A pearl within too large a shell. +So quaint, so short, so lissome, she, +It seemed as if it well might be +Some jocose god, with sportive whirl, +Had taken up a long lithe girl +And tied a graceful knot in her. +I tried to speak, and found, oh, bliss! +I needed no interpreter; +I knew the Japanese for kiss,-- +I had no other thought but this; +And she, with smile and blush divine, +Kind to my stammering prayer did seem; +My thought was hers, and hers was mine, +In the swift logic of my dream. +My arms clung round her slender waist, +Through gold and silk the form I traced, +And glad as rain that follows drouth, +I kissed and kissed her bright red mouth. + +What ailed the girl? No loving sigh +Heaved the round bosom; in her eye +Trembled no tear; from her dear throat +Bubbled a sweet and silvery note +Of girlish laughter, shrill and clear, +That all the statues seemed to hear. +The bronzes tinkled laughter fine; +I heard a chuckle argentine +Ring from the silver images; +Even the ivory netsukes +Uttered in every silent pause +Dry, bony laughs from tiny jaws; +The painted monkeys on the wall +Waked up with chatter impudent; +Pottery, porcelain, bronze, and all +Broke out in ghostly merriment,-- +Faint as rain pattering on dry leaves, +Or cricket's chirp on summer eves. + +And suddenly upon my sight +There grew a portent: left and right, +On every side, as if the air +Had taken substance then and there, +In every sort of form and face, +A throng of tourists filled the place. +I saw a Frenchman's sneering shrug; +A German countess, in one hand +A sky-blue string which held a pug, +With the other a fiery face she fanned; +A Yankee with a soft felt hat; +A Coptic priest from Ararat; +An English girl with cheeks of rose; +A Nihilist with Socratic nose; +Paddy from Cork with baggage light +And pockets stuffed with dynamite; +A haughty Southern Readjuster +Wrapped in his pride and linen duster; +Two noisy New York stock-brokers +And twenty British globe-trotters. +To my disgust and vast surprise +They turned on me lack-lustre eyes, +And each with dropped and wagging jaw +Burst out into a wild guffaw: +They laughed with huge mouths opened wide; +They roared till each one held his side; +They screamed and writhed with brutal glee, +With fingers rudely stretched to me,-- +Till lo! at once the laughter died, +The tourists faded into air; +None but my fair maid lingered there, +Who stood demurely by my side. +"Who were your friends?" I asked the maid, +Taking a tea-cup from its shelf. +"This audience is disclosed," she said, +"Whenever a man makes a fool of himself." + + + +Liberty + + +What man is there so bold that he should say +"Thus, and thus only, would I have the sea"? +For whether lying calm and beautiful, +Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back +The smile of heaven from waves of amethyst; +Or whether, freshened by the busy winds, +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 rocky barriers, in wild lust +Of ruin drinks the blood of living things, +And strews its wrecks o'er leagues of desolate shore,-- +Always it is the sea, and men bow down +Before its vast and varied majesty. + +So all in vain will timorous ones essay +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 fulfills the unerring Will. +Let us not then despise it when it lies +Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm +Of gnat-like evils hover round its head; +Nor doubt it when in 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 +Rings down its grooves the knell of shuddering kings. +Forever in thine eyes, O Liberty, +Shines that high light whereby the world is saved, +And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee! + + + +The White Flag + + +I sent my love two roses,--one + As white as driven snow, +And one a blushing royal red, + A flaming Jacqueminot. + +I meant to touch and test my fate; + That night I should divine, +The moment I should see my love, + If her true heart were mine. + +For if she holds me dear, I said, + She'll wear my blushing rose; +If not, she'll wear my cold Lamarque, + As white as winter's snows. + +My heart sank when I met her: sure + I had been overbold, +For on her breast my pale rose lay + In virgin whiteness cold. + +Yet with low words she greeted me, + With smiles divinely tender; +Upon her cheek the red rose dawned,-- + The white rose meant surrender. + + + +The Law of Death + + +The song of Kilvani: fairest she +In all the land of Savatthi. +She had one child, as sweet and gay +And dear to her as the light of day. +She was so young, and he so fair, +The same bright eyes and the same dark hair; +To see them by the blossomy way, +They seemed two children at their play. + +There came a death-dart from the sky, +Kilvani saw her darling die. +The glimmering shade his eyes invades, +Out of his cheek the red bloom fades; +His warm heart feels the icy chill, +The round limbs shudder, and are still +And yet Kilvani held him fast +Long after life's last pulse was past, +As if her kisses could restore +The smile gone out forevermore. + +But when she saw her child was dead, +She scattered ashes on her head, +And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, +And rushing wildly through the street, +She sobbing fell at Buddha's feet. + +"Master, all-helpful, help me now! +Here at thy feet I humbly bow; +Have mercy, Buddha, help me now!" +She groveled on the marble floor, +And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er. +And suddenly upon the air +There fell the answer to her prayer: +"Bring me to-night a lotus tied +With thread from a house where none has died." + +She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, +Sure that the god would save the boy. +She found a lotus by the stream; +She plucked it from its noonday dream. +And then from door to door she fared, +To ask what house by Death was spared. +Her heart grew cold to see the eyes +Of all dilate with slow surprise: +"Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; +Nothing can help a child that's dead. +There stands not by the Ganges' side +A house where none hath ever died." +Thus, through the long and weary day, +From every door she bore away +Within her heart, and on her arm, +A heavier load, a deeper harm. +By gates of gold and ivory, +By wattled huts of poverty, +The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, +_The living are few, the dead are many._ + +The evening came--so still and fleet-- +And overtook her hurrying feet. +And, heartsick, by the sacred fane +She fell, and prayed the god again. +She sobbed and beat her bursting breast +"Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest! +Lo! I have wandered far and wide; +There stands no house where none hath died." +And Buddha answered, in a tone +Soft as a flute at twilight blown, +But grand as heaven and strong as death +To him who hears with ears of faith: +"Child, thou art answered. Murmur not! +Bow, and accept the common lot." + +Kilvani heard with reverence meet, +And laid her child at Buddha's feet. + + + +Mount Tabor + + +On Tabor's height a glory came, +And, shrined in clouds of lambent flame, +The awestruck, hushed disciples saw +Christ and the prophets of the law. +Moses, whose grand and awful face +Of Sinai's thunder bore the trace, +And wise Elias,--in his eyes +The shade of Israel's prophecies,-- +Stood in that wide, mysterious light, +Than Syrian noons more purely bright, +One on each hand, and high between +Shone forth the godlike Nazarene. + +They bowed their heads in holy fright,-- +No mortal eyes could bear the sight,-- +And when they looked again, behold! +The fiery clouds had backward rolled, +And borne aloft in grandeur lonely, +Nothing was left "save Jesus only." + +Resplendent type of things to be! +We read its mystery to-day +With clearer eyes than even they, +The fisher-saints of Galilee. +We see the Christ stand out between +The ancient law and faith serene, +Spirit and letter; but above +Spirit and letter both was Love. +Led by the hand of Jacob's God, +Through wastes of eld a path was trod +By which the savage world could move +Upward through law and faith to love. +And there in Tabor's harmless flame +The crowning revelation came. +The old world knelt in homage due, +The prophets near in reverence drew, +Law ceased its mission to fulfill, +And Love was lord on Tabor's hill. + +So now, while creeds perplex the mind +And wranglings load the weary wind, +When all the air is filled with words +And texts that ring like clashing swords, +Still, as for refuge, we may turn +Where Tabor's shining glories burn,-- +The soul of antique Israel gone, +And nothing left but Christ alone. + + + +Religion and Doctrine + + +He stood before the Sanhedrim; +The scowling rabbis gazed at him. +He recked not of their praise or blame; +There was no fear, there was no shame, +For one upon whose dazzled eyes +The whole world poured its vast surprise. +The open heaven was far too near, +His first day's light too sweet and clear, +To let him waste his new-gained ken +On the hate-clouded face of men. + +But still they questioned, Who art thou? +What hast thou been? What art thou now? +Thou art not he who yesterday +Sat here and begged beside the way; +For he was blind. + --_And I am he; +For I was blind, but now I see_. + + He told the story o'er and o'er; +It was his full heart's only lore: +A prophet on the Sabbath-day +Had touched his sightless eyes with clay, +And made him see who had been blind. +Their words passed by him like the wind, +Which raves and howls, but cannot shock +The hundred-fathom-rooted rock. + + Their threats and fury all went wide; +They could not touch his Hebrew pride. +Their sneers at Jesus and His band, +Nameless and homeless in the land, +Their boasts of Moses and his Lord, +All could not change him by one word. + + _I know not what this man may be, +Sinner or saint; but as for me, +One thing I know,--that I am he +Who once was blind, and now I see_. + + They were all doctors of renown, +The great men of a famous town, +With deep brows, wrinkled, broad, and wise, +Beneath their wide phylacteries; +The wisdom of the East was theirs, +And honor crowned their silver hairs. +The man they jeered and laughed to scorn +Was unlearned, poor, and humbly born; +But he knew better far than they +What came to him that Sabbath-day; +And what the Christ had done for him +He knew, and not the Sanhedrim. + + + +Sinai and Calvary + + +There are two mountains hallowed + By majesty sublime, +Which rear their crests unconquered + Above the floods of Time. +Uncounted generations + Have gazed on them with awe,-- +The mountain of the Gospel, + The mountain of the Law. + +From Sinai's cloud of darkness + The vivid lightnings play; +They serve the God of vengeance, + The Lord who shall repay. +Each fault must bring its penance, + Each sin the avenging blade, +For God upholds in justice + The laws that He hath made. + +But Calvary stands to ransom + The earth from utter loss, +In shade than light more glorious, + The shadow of the Cross. +To heal a sick world's trouble, + To soothe its woe and pain, +On Calvary's sacred summit + The Paschal Lamb was slain. + +The boundless might of Heaven + Its law in mercy furled, +As once the bow of promise + O'erarched a drowning world. +The Law said, As you keep me, + It shall be done to you; +But Calvary prays, Forgive them; + They know not what they do. + +Almighty God! direct us + To keep Thy perfect Law! +O blessed Saviour, help us + Nearer to Thee to draw! +Let Sinai's thunders aid us + To guard our feet from sin; +And Calvary's light inspire us + The love of God to win. + + + +The Vision of St. Peter + + +To Peter by night the faithfullest came + And said, "We appeal to thee! +The life of the Church is in thy life; + We pray thee to rise and flee. + +"For the tyrant's hand is red with blood, + And his arm is heavy with power; +Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall, + If thou tarry in Rome an hour." + +Through the sleeping town St. Peter passed + To the wide Campagna plain; +In the starry light of the Alban night + He drew free breath again: + +When across his path an awful form + In luminous glory stood; +His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet, + Were wet with immortal blood. + +The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes + Seemed changed to a godlike wrath, +As they turned on Peter, who cried aloud, + And sank to his knees in the path. + +"Lord of my life, my love, my soul! + Say, what wilt Thou with me?" +A voice replied, "I go to Rome + To be crucified for thee." + +The apostle sprang, all flushed, to his feet,-- + The vision had passed away; +The light still lay on the dewy plain, + But the sky in the east was gray. + +To the city walls St. Peter turned, + And his heart in his breast grew fire; +In every vein the hot blood burned + With the strength of one high desire. + +And sturdily back he marched to his death + Of terrible pain and shame; +And never a shade of fear again + To the stout apostle came. + + + +Israel + + +When by Jabbok the patriarch waited + To learn on the morrow his doom, +And his dubious spirit debated + In darkness and silence and gloom, + There descended a Being with whom +He wrestled in agony sore, + With striving of heart and of brawn, +And not for an instant forbore + Till the east gave a threat of the dawn; +And then, as the Awful One blessed him, + To his lips and his spirit there came, +Compelled by the doubts that oppressed him, +The cry that through questioning ages +Has been wrung from the hinds and the sages, + "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +Most fatal, most futile, of questions! + Wherever the heart of man beats, + In the spirit's most sacred retreats, +It comes with its sombre suggestions, + Unanswered forever and aye. + The blessing may come and may stay, +For the wrestler's heroic endeavor; +But the question, unheeded forever, + Dies out in the broadening day. + +In the ages before our traditions, +By the altars of dark superstitions, + The imperious question has come; +When the death-stricken victim lay sobbing + At the feet of his slayer and priest, +And his heart was laid smoking and throbbing + To the sound of the cymbal and drum +On the steps of the high Teocallis; + When the delicate Greek at his feast +Poured forth the red wine from his chalice + With mocking and cynical prayer; +When by Nile Egypt worshiping lay, + And afar, through the rosy, flushed air +The Memnon called out to the day; +Where the Muezzin's cry floats from his spire; + In the vaulted Cathedral's dim shades, +Where the crushed hearts of thousands aspire +Through art's highest miracles higher, + This question of questions invades + Each heart bowed in worship or shame; +In the air where the censers are swinging, +A voice, going up with the singing, +Cries, "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" + +No answer came back, not a word, +To the patriarch there by the ford; +No answer has come through the ages +To the poets, the seers, and the sages +Who have sought in the secrets of science +The name and the nature of God, +Whether cursing in desperate defiance +Or kissing his absolute rod; +But the answer which was and shall be, +"My name! Nay, what is it to thee?" +The search and the question are vain. +By use of the strength that is in you, +By wrestling of soul and of sinew +The blessing of God you may gain. + +There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven + That never will shine on our eyes; +To mortals it may not be given + To range those inviolate skies. +The mind, whether praying or scorning, + That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; +But strive through the night till the morning, + And mightily shalt thou prevail. + + + +Crows at Washington + + +Slow flapping to the setting sun +By twos and threes, in wavering rows. + As twilight shadows dimly close, +The crows fly over Washington. + +Under the crimson sunset sky +Virginian woodlands leafless lie, + In wintry torpor bleak and dun. +Through the rich vault of heaven, which shines + Like a warmed opal in the sun, +With wide advance in broken lines + The crows fly over Washington. + +Over the Capitol's white dome, + Across the obelisk soaring bare +To prick the clouds, they travel home, +Content and weary, winnowing + With dusky vans the golden air, +Which hints the coming of the spring, + Though winter whitens Washington. + +The dim, deep air, the level ray +Of dying sunlight on their plumes, + Give them a beauty not their own; +Their hoarse notes fail and faint away; + A rustling murmur floating down +Blends sweetly with the thickening glooms; +They touch with grace the fading day, + Slow flying over Washington. + +I stand and watch with clouded eyes + These dim battalions move along; +Out of the distance memory cries + Of days when life and hope were strong, +When love was prompt and wit was gay; +Even then, at evening, as to-day, + I watched, while twilight hovered dim + Over Potomac's curving rim, +This selfsame flight of homing crows +Blotting the sunset's fading rose, + Above the roofs of Washington. + + + +Remorse + + +Sad is the thought of sunniest days + Of love and rapture perished, +And shine through memory's tearful haze + The eyes once fondliest cherished. +Reproachful is the ghost of toys + That charmed while life was wasted. +But saddest is the thought of joys + That never yet were tasted. + +Sad is the vague and tender dream + Of dead love's lingering kisses, +To crushed hearts haloed by the gleam + Of unreturning blisses; +Deep mourns the soul in anguished pride + For the pitiless death that won them,-- +But the saddest wail is for lips that died + With the virgin dew upon them. + + + +Esse Quam Videri + + +The knightly legend of thy shield betrays +The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, + And that large honor that deceit defies, +Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, +Who decked thy scutcheon with that sturdy phrase, + _To be rather than seem_. As eve's red skies + Surpass the morning's rosy prophecies, +Thy life to that proud boast its answer pays. +Scorning thy faith and purpose to defend + The ever-mutable multitude at last + Will hail the power they did not comprehend,-- +Thy fame will broaden through the centuries; + As, storm and billowy tumult overpast, + The moon rules calmly o'er the conquered seas. + + + +When the Boys Come Home + + +There's a happy time coming, + When the boys come home. +There's a glorious day coming, + When the boys come home. +We will end the dreadful story +Of this treason dark and gory +In a sunburst of glory, + When the boys come home. + +The day will seem brighter + When the boys come home, +For our hearts will be lighter + When the boys come home. +Wives and sweethearts will press them +In their arms and caress them, +And pray God to bless them, + When the boys come home. + +The thinned ranks will be proudest + When the boys come home, +And their cheer will ring the loudest + When the boys come home. +The full ranks will be shattered, +And the bright arms will be battered, +And the battle-standards tattered, + When the boys come home. + +Their bayonets may be rusty, + When the boys come home, +And their uniforms dusty, + When the boys come home. +But all shall see the traces +Of battle's royal graces, +In the brown and bearded faces, + When the boys come home. + +Our love shall go to meet them, + When the boys come home, +To bless them and to greet them, + When the boys come home; +And the fame of their endeavor +Time and change shall not dissever +From the nation's heart forever, + When the boys come home. + + + +Lese-Amour + + +How well my heart remembers +Beside these camp-fire embers +The eyes that smiled so far away,-- + The joy that was November's. + + Her voice to laughter moving, + So merrily reproving,-- +We wandered through the autumn woods, + And neither thought of loving. + + The hills with light were glowing, + The waves in joy were flowing,-- +It was not to the clouded sun + The day's delight was owing. + +Though through the brown leaves straying, + Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; +We knew not Love was with us there, + No look nor tone betraying. + + How unbelief still misses + The best of being's blisses! +Our parting saw the first and last + Of love's imagined kisses. + + Now 'mid these scenes the drearest + I dream of her, the dearest,-- +Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, + So far, and yet the nearest. + + And Love, so gayly taunted, + Who died, no welcome granted, +Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, + By whom my life is haunted. + + With bonds I may not sever, + He binds my heart forever, +And leads me where we murdered him,-- + The Hill beside the River. + + +CAMP SHAW, FLORIDA, February, 1864. + + + +Northward + + +Under the high unclouded sun +That makes the ship and shadow one, + I sail away as from the fort +Booms sullenly the noonday gun. + +The odorous airs blow thin and fine, +The sparkling waves like emeralds shine, + The lustre of the coral reefs +Gleams whitely through the tepid brine. + +And glitters o'er the liquid miles +The jewelled ring of verdant isles, + Where generous Nature holds her court +Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. + +Encinctured by the faithful seas +Inviolate gardens load the breeze, + Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes +The pennants of the cocoa-trees. + +Enthroned in light and bathed in balm, +In lonely majesty the Palm + Blesses the isles with waving hands,-- +High-Priest of the eternal Calm. + +Yet Northward with an equal mind +I steer my course, and leave behind + The rapture of the Southern skies,-- +The wooing of the Southern wind. + +For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom +Falls far and near the shade of gloom, +Cast from the hovering vulture-wings +Of one dark thought of woe and doom. + +I know that in the snow-white pines +The brave Norse fire of freedom shines, + And fain for this I leave the land +Where endless summer pranks the vines. + +O strong, free North, so wise and brave! +O South, too lovely for a slave! + Why read ye not the changeless truth,-- +The free can conquer but to save? + +May God upon these shining sands +Send Love and Victory clasping hands, + And Freedom's banners wave in peace +Forever o'er the rescued lands! + +And here, in that triumphant hour, +Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power; + And blushing earth and smiling sea +In dalliance deck the bridal bower. + +KEY WEST, 1864. + + + +In the Firelight + + +My dear wife sits beside the fire + With folded hands and dreaming eyes, +Watching the restless flames aspire, + And wrapped in thralling memories. +I mark the fitful firelight fling + Its warm caresses on her brow, +And kiss her hands' unmelting snow, + And glisten on her wedding-ring. + +The proud free head that crowns so well + The neck superb, whose outlines glide +Into the bosom's perfect swell + Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide, +The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, + The gracious charm her beauty wears, + Fill my fond eyes with tender tears +As in the days of long ago. + +Days long ago, when in her eyes + The only heaven I cared for lay, +When from our thoughtless Paradise + All care and toil dwelt far away; +When Hope in wayward fancies throve, + And rioted in secret sweets, + Beguiled by Passion's dear deceits,-- +The mysteries of maiden love. + +One year had passed since first my sight + Was gladdened by her girlish charms, +When on a rapturous summer night + I clasped her in possessing arms. +And now ten years have rolled away, + And left such blessings as their dower, + I owe her tenfold at this hour +The love that lit our wedding-day. + +For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, + My fancy sees, by love refined, +A warmer and a dearer charm + By wedlock's mystic hands intwined,-- +golden coil of wifely cares + That years have forged, the loving joy + That guards the curly-headed boy +Asleep an hour ago up stairs. + +A fair young mother, pure as fair, + A matron heart and virgin soul! +The flickering light that crowns her hair + Seems like a saintly aureole. +A tender sense upon me falls + That joy unmerited is mine, + And in this pleasant twilight shine +My perfect bliss myself appalls. + +Come back! my darling, strayed so far + Into the realm of fantasy,-- +Let thy dear face shine like a star + In love-light beaming over me. +My melting soul is jealous, sweet, + Of thy long silence' drear eclipse, + O kiss me back with living lips +To life, love, lying at thy feet! + + + +In a Graveyard + + +In the dewy depths of the graveyard + I lie in the tangled grass, +And watch, in the sea of azure, + The white cloud-islands pass. + +The birds in the rustling branches + Sing gayly overhead; +Gray stones like sentinel spectres + Are guarding the silent dead. + +The early flowers sleep shaded + In the cool green noonday glooms; +The broken light falls shuddering + On the cold white face of the tombs, + +Without, the world is smiling + In the infinite love of God, +But the sunlight fails and falters + When it falls on the churchyard sod. + +On me the joyous rapture + Of a heart's first love is shed, +But it falls on my heart as coldly + As sunlight on the dead. + + + +The Prairie + + +The skies are blue above my head, + The prairie green below, +And flickering o'er the tufted grass + The shifting shadows go, +Vague-sailing, where the feathery clouds + Fleck white the tranquil skies, +Black javelins darting where aloft + The whirring pheasant flies. + +A glimmering plain in drowsy trance + The dim horizon bounds, +Where all the air is resonant + With sleepy summer sounds, +The life that sings among the flowers, + The lisping of the breeze, +The hot cicala's sultry cry, + The murmurous dream of bees. + +The butterfly--a flying flower-- + Wheels swift in flashing rings, +And flutters round his quiet kin, + With brave flame-mottled wings. +The wild Pinks burst in crimson fire, + The Phlox' bright clusters shine, +And Prairie-Cups are swinging free + To spill their airy wine. + +And lavishly beneath the sun, + In liberal splendor rolled, +The Fennel fills the dipping plain + With floods of flowery gold; +And widely weaves the Iron-Weed + A woof of purple dyes +Where Autumn's royal feet may tread + When bankrupt Summer flies. + +In verdurous tumult far away + The prairie-billows gleam, +Upon their crests in blessing rests + The noontide's gracious beam. +Low quivering vapors steaming dim + The level splendors break +Where languid Lilies deck the rim + Of some land-circled lake. + +Far in the East like low-hung clouds + The waving woodlands lie; +Far in the West the glowing plain + Melts warmly in the sky. +No accent wounds the reverent air, + No footprint dints the sod,-- +Lone in the light the prairie lies, + Rapt in a dream of God + +ILLINOIS, 1858. + + + +Centennial + + +A hundred times the bells of Brown + Have rung to sleep the idle summers, +And still to-day clangs clamoring down + A greeting to the welcome comers. + +And far, like waves of morning, pours + Her call, in airy ripples breaking, +And wanders to the farthest shores, + Her children's drowsy hearts awaking. + +The wild vibration floats along, + O'er heart-strings tense its magic plying, +And wakes in every breast its song + Of love and gratitude undying. + +My heart to meet the summons leaps + At limit of its straining tether, +Where the fresh western sunlight steeps + In golden flame the prairie heather. + +And others, happier, rise and fare + To pass within the hallowed portal, +And see the glory shining there + Shrined in her steadfast eyes immortal. + +What though their eyes be dim and dull, + Their heads be white in reverend blossom; +Our mother's smile is beautiful + As when she bore them on her bosom! + +Her heavenly forehead bears no line + Of Time's iconoclastic fingers, +But o'er her form the grace divine + Of deathless youth and wisdom lingers. + +We fade and pass, grow faint and old, + Till youth and joy and hope are banished, +And still her beauty seems to fold + The sum of all the glory vanished. + +As while Tithonus faltered on + The threshold of the Olympian dawnings, +Aurora's front eternal shone + With lustre of the myriad mornings. + +So joys that slip like dead leaves down, + And hopes burnt out that die in ashes, +Rise restless from their graves to crown + Our mother's brow with fadeless flashes. + +And lives wrapped in tradition's mist + These honored halls to-day are haunting, +And lips by lips long withered kissed + The sagas of the past are chanting. + +Scornful of absence' envious bar + BROWN smiles upon the mystic meeting +Of those her sons, who, sundered far, + In brotherhood of heart are greeting; + +Her wayward children wandering on + Where setting stars are lowly burning, +But still in worship toward the dawn + That gilds their souls' dear Mecca turning; + +Or those who, armed for God's own fight, + Stand by his word through fire and slaughter. +Or bear our banner's starry light + Far-flashing through the Gulf's blue water. + +For where one strikes for light and truth + The right to aid, the wrong redressing, +The mother of his spirit's youth + Sheds o'er his soul her silent blessing. + +She gained her crown a gem of flame + When KNEASS fell dead in victory gory; +New splendor blazed upon her name + When IVES' young life went out in glory! + +Thus bright forever may she keep + Her fires of tolerant Freedom burning, +Till War's red eyes are charmed to sleep + And bells ring home the boys returning. + +And may she shed her radiant truth + In largess on ingenuous comers, +And hold the bloom of gracious youth + Through many a hundred tranquil summers! + + + +A Winter Night + + +The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill + And chides with angry moan the frosty skies, + The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes +That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still +We reck not of the wild night's gloom and chill, + Housed from its rage, dear friend; and fancy flies, + Lured by the hand of beckoning memories, +Back to those summer evenings on the hill +Where we together watched the sun go down + Beyond the gold-washed uplands, while his fires + Touched into glittering life the vanes and spires +Piercing the purpling mists that veiled the town. + The wintry night thy voice and eyes beguile, + Till wake the sleeping summers in thy smile. + + + +Student-Song + + +When Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend, + And Youth's blue sky is bright, +And shines in Youth's clear eye, my friend, + Love's early dawning light, +Let the free soul spurn care's control, + And while the glad days shine, +We'll use their beams for Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +Let not the bigot's frown, my friend, + O'ercast thy brow with gloom, +For Autumn's sober brown, my friend, + Shall follow Summer's bloom. +Let smiles and sighs and loving eyes + In changeful beauty shine, +And shed their beams on Youth's gay dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + +For in the weary years, my friend, + That stretched before us lie, +There'll be enough of tears, my friend, + To dim the brightest eye. +So let them wait, and laugh at fate, + While Youth's sweet moments shine,-- +Till memory gleams with golden dreams + Of Love and Song and Wine. + + + +How It Happened + + +I pray you, pardon me, Elsie, + And smile that frown away +That dims the light of your lovely face + As a thunder-cloud the day. +I really could not help it,-- + Before I thought, 't was done,-- +And those great gray eyes flashed bright and cold, + Like an icicle in the sun. + +I was thinking of the summers + When we were boys and girls, +And wandered in the blossoming woods, + And the gay winds romped with your curls. +And you seemed to me the same little girl + I kissed in the alder-path, +I kissed the little girl's lips, and alas! + I have roused a woman's wrath. + +There is not so much to pardon,-- + For why were your lips so red? +The blond hair fell in a shower of gold + From the proud, provoking head. +And the beauty that flashed from the splendid eyes, + And played round the tender mouth, +Rushed over my soul like a warm sweet wind + That blows from the fragrant south. + +And where, after all, is the harm done? + I believe we were made to be gay, +And all of youth not given to love + Is vainly squandered away. +And strewn through life's low labors, + Like gold in the desert sands, +Are love's swift kisses and sighs and vows + And the clasp of clinging hands. + +And when you are old and lonely, + In Memory's magic shine +You will see on your thin and wasting hands, + Like gems, these kisses of mine. +And when you muse at evening + At the sound of some vanished name, +The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips + And kindle your heart to flame. + + + +God's Vengeance + + +Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine; + I will repay," saith the Lord; +Ours be the anger divine, + Lit by the flash of his word. + +How shall his vengeance be done? + How, when his purpose is clear? +Must he come down from his throne? + Hath he no instruments here? + +Sleep not in imbecile trust + Waiting for God to begin, +While, growing strong in the dust, + Rests the bruised serpent of sin. + +Right and Wrong,--both cannot live + Death-grappled. Which shall we see? +Strike! only Justice can give + Safety to all that shall be. + +Shame! to stand paltering thus, + Tricked by the balancing odds; +Strike! God is waiting for us! + Strike! for the vengeance is God's. + + + +Too Late + + +Had we but met in other days, +Had we but loved in other ways, +Another light and hope had shone + On your life and my own. + +In sweet but hopeless reveries +I fancy how your wistful eyes +Had saved me, had I known their power + In fate's imperious hour; + +How loving you, beloved of God, +And following you, the path I trod +Had led me, through your love and prayers. + To God's love unawares: + +And how our beings joined as one +Had passed through checkered shade and sun, +Until the earth our lives had given, + With little change, to heaven. + +God knows why this was not to be. +You bloomed from childhood far from me, +The sunshine of the favored place + That knew your youth and grace. + +And when your eyes, so fair and free, +In fearless beauty beamed on me, +I knew the fatal die was thrown, + My choice in life was gone. + +And still with wild and tender art +Your child-love touched my torpid heart, +Gilding the blackness where it fell, + Like sunlight over hell. + +In vain, in vain! my choice was gone! +Better to struggle on alone +Than blot your pure life's blameless shine + With cloudy stains of mine. + +A vague regret, a troubled prayer, +And then the future vast and fair +Will tempt your young and eager eyes + With all its glad surprise. + +And I shall watch you, safe and far, +As some late traveller eyes a star +Wheeling beyond his desert sands + To gladden happier lands. + + + +Love's Doubt + + +'Tis love that blinds my heart and eyes,-- + I sometimes say in doubting dreams,-- + The face that near me perfect seems +Cold Memory paints in fainter dyes. + +'T was but love's dazzled eyes--I say-- + That made her seem so strangely bright; + The face I worshipped yesternight, +I dread to meet it changed to-day. + +As, when dies out some song's refrain, + And leaves your eyes in happy tears, + Awake the same fond idle fears,-- +It cannot sound so sweet again. + +You wait and say with vague annoy, + "It will not sound so sweet again," + Until comes back the wild refrain +That floods your soul with treble joy. + +So when I see my love again + Fades the unquiet doubt away, + While shines her beauty like the day +Over my happy heart and brain. + +And in that face I see no more + The fancied faults I idly dreamed, + But all the charms that fairest seemed, +I find them, fairer than before. + + + +Lagrimas + + + God send me tears! +Loose the fierce band that binds my tired brain, +Give me the melting heart of other years, + And let me weep again! + + Before me pass +The shapes of things inexorably true. +Gone is the sparkle of transforming dew + From every blade of grass. + + In life's high noon +Aimless I stand, my promised task undone, +And raise my hot eyes to the angry sun + That will go down too soon. + +Turned into gall +Are the sweet joys of childhood's sunny reign; +And memory is a torture, love a chain + That binds my life in thrall. + + And childhood's pain +Could to me now the purest rapture yield; +I pray for tears as in his parching field + The husbandman for rain. + + We pray in vain! +The sullen sky flings down its blaze of brass; +The joys of life all scorched and withering pass; + I shall not weep again. + + + +On the Bluff + + +O grandly flowing River! +O silver-gliding River! +Thy springing willows shiver + In the sunset as of old; +They shiver in the silence +Of the willow-whitened islands, +While the sun-bars and the sand-bars + Fill air and wave with gold. + +O gay, oblivious River! +O sunset-kindled River! +Do you remember ever + The eyes and skies so blue +On a summer day that shone here, +When we were all alone here, +And the blue eyes were too wise + To speak the love they knew? + +O stern impassive River! +O still unanswering River! +The shivering willows quiver + As the night-winds moan and rave. +From the past a voice is calling, +From heaven a star is falling, +And dew swells in the bluebells + Above her hillside grave. + + + +Una + + +In the whole wide world there was but one, +Others for others, but she was mine, +The one fair woman beneath the sun. + +From her gold-flax curls' most marvellous shine +Down to the lithe and delicate feet +There was not a curve nor a waving line + +But moved in a harmony firm and sweet +With all of passion my life could know. +By knowledge perfect and faith complete + +I was bound to her,--as the planets go +Adoring around their central star, +Free, but united for weal or woe. + +She was so near and Heaven so far-- +She grew my heaven and law and fate +Rounding my life with a mystic bar + +No thought beyond could violate. +Our love to fulness in silence nursed +Grew calm as morning, when through the gate + +Of the glimmering East the sun has burst, +With his hot life filling the waiting air. +She kissed me once,--that last and first + +Of her maiden kisses was placid as prayer. +Against all comers I sat with lance +In rest, and, drunk with my joy, I sware + +Defiance and scorn to the world's worst chance. +In vain! for soon unhorsed I lay +At the feet of the strong god Circumstance-- + +And never again shall break the day, +And never again shall fall the night +That shall light me, or shield me, on my way + +To the presence of my sad soul's delight. +Her dead love comes like a passionate ghost +To mourn the Body it held so light, + +And Fate, like a hound with a purpose lost, +Goes round bewildered with shame and fright. + + + + +Through the long days and years + What will my loved one be, + Parted from me? +Through the long days and years. + +Always as then she was + Loveliest, brightest, best, + Blessing and blest,-- +Always as then she was. + +Never on earth again + Shall I before her stand, + Touch lip or hand,-- +Never on earth again. + +But while my darling lives + Peaceful I journey on, + Not quite alone, +Not while my darling lives. + + + +A Phylactery + + +Wise men I hold those rakes of old + Who, as we read in antique story, +When lyres were struck and wine was poured, +Set the white Death's Head on the board-- + Memento mori. + +Love well! love truly! and love fast! + True love evades the dilatory. +Life's bloom flares like a meteor past; +A joy so dazzling cannot last-- + Memento mori. + +Stop not to pluck the leaves of bay + That greenly deck the path of glory, +The wreath will wither if you stay, +So pass along your earnest way-- + Memento mori. + +Hear but not heed, though wild and shrill, + The cries of faction transitory; +Cleave to _your_ good, eschew _your_ ill, +A Hundred Years and all is still-- + Memento mori. + +When Old Age comes with muffled drums, + That beat to sleep our tired life's story, +On thoughts of dying, (Rest is good!) +Like old snakes coiled i' the sun, we brood-- + Memento mori. + + + +Blondine + + +I wandered through a careless world + Deceived when not deceiving, +And never gave an idle heart + The rapture of believing. +The smiles, the sighs, the glancing eyes, + Of many hundred comers +Swept by me, light as rose-leaves blown + From long-forgotten summers. + +But never eyes so deep and bright + And loyal in their seeming, +And never smiles so full of light + Have shone upon my dreaming. +The looks and lips so gay and wise, + The thousand charms that wreathe them, +--Almost I dare believe that truth + Is safely shrined beneath them. + +Ah! do they shine, those eyes of thine, + But for our own misleading? +The fresh young smile, so pure and fine, + Does it but mock our reading? +Then faith is fled, and trust is dead, + And unbelief grows duty, +If fraud can wield the triple arm + Of youth and wit and beauty. + + + +Distichs + + +I. + +Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her. +This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not. + +II. + +There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going, +When they seem going they come: Diplomates, women, and crabs. + +III. + +Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recollection, +As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea. + +IV. + +As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them, +Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king. + +V. + +What is a first love worth, except to prepare for a second? +What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first. + +VI. + +Health was wooed by the Romans in groves of the laurel and myrtle. +Happy and long are the lives brightened by glory and love. + +VII. + +Wine is like rain: when it falls on the mire it but makes it the fouler, +But when it strikes the good soil wakes it to beauty and bloom. + +VIII. + +Break not the rose; its fragrance and beauty are surely sufficient: +Resting contented with these, never a thorn shall you feel. + +IX. + +When you break up housekeeping, you learn the extent of your treasures; +Till he begins to reform, no one can number his sins. + +X. + +Maidens! why should you worry in choosing whom you shall marry? +Choose whom you may, you will find you have got somebody else. + +XI. + +Unto each man comes a day when his favorite sins all forsake him, +And he complacently thinks he has forsaken his sins. + +XII. + +Be not too anxious to gain your next-door neighbor's approval: +Live your own life, and let him strive your approval to gain. + +XIII. + +Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of his pronouns. +Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I. + +XIV. + +The best loved man or maid in the town would perish with anguish +Could they hear all that their friends say in the course of a day. + +XV. + +True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table: +Luckiest he who knows just when to rise and go home. + +XVI. + +Pleasant enough it is to hear the world speak of your virtues; +But in your secret heart 't is of your faults you are proud. + +XVII. + +Try not to beat back the current, yet be not drowned in its waters; +Speak with the speech of the world, think with the thoughts of the few. + +XVIII. + +Make all good men your well-wishers, and then, in the years' steady sifting, +Some of them turn into friends. Friends are the sunshine of life. + + + +Regardant + + +As I lay at your feet that afternoon, +Little we spoke,--you sat and mused, +Humming a sweet old-fashioned tune, + +And I worshipped you, with a sense confused +Of the good time gone and the bad on the way, +While my hungry eyes your face perused + +To catch and brand on my soul for aye +The subtle smile which had grown my doom. +Drinking sweet poison hushed I lay + +Till the sunset shimmered athwart the room. +I rose to go. You stood so fair +And dim in the dead day's tender gloom: + +All at once, or ever I was aware, +Flashed from you on me a warm strong wave +Of passion and power; in the silence there + +I fell on my knees, like a lover, or slave, +With my wild hands clasping your slender waist; +And my lips, with a sudden frenzy brave, + +A madman's kiss on your girdle pressed, +And I felt your calm heart's quickening beat, +And your soft hands on me one instant rest. + +And if God had loved me, how endlessly sweet +Had he let my heart in its rapture burst, +And throb its last at your firm small feet! + +And when I was forth, I shuddered at first +At my imminent bliss. As a soul in pain, +Treading his desolate path accursed, + +Looks back and dreams through his tears' dim rain +That by Heaven's wide gate the angels smile, +Relenting, and beckon him back again, + +And goes on, thrice damned by that devil's wile,-- +So sometimes burns in my weary brain +The thought that you loved me all the while. + + + +Guy of the Temple + + +Down the dim West slow fails the stricken sun, +And from his hot face fades the crimson flush +Veiled in death's herald-shadows sick and gray. +Silent and dark the sombre valley lies +Forgotten; happy in the late fond beams +Glimmer the constant waves of Galilee. +Afar, below, in airy music ring +The bugles of my host; the column halts, +A wearied serpent glittering in the vale, +Where rising mist-like gleam the tented camps. + +Pitch my pavilion here, where its high cross +May catch the last light lingering on the hill. +The savage shadows, struggling by the shore, +Have conquered in the valley; inch by inch +The vanquished light fights bravely to these crags +To perish glorious in the sunset fire; +Even as our hunted Cause so pressed and torn +In Syrian valleys, and the trampled marge +Of consecrated streams, displays at last +Its narrowing glories from these steadfast walls. +Here in God's name we stand, and brighter far +Shines the stern virtue of my martyr-host +Through these invidious fortunes, than of old, +When the still sunshine glinted on their helms, +And dallying breezes woke their bridle-bells +To tinkling music by the reedy shore +Of calm Tiberias, where our angry Lord, +Wroth at the deadly sin that cursed our camp, +Denied and blinded us, and gave us up +To the avenging sword of Saladin. +Yet would he not permit his truth to sink +To utter loss amid that foundering fight, +But led us, scarred and shattered from the spoil +Of Paynim rage, the desert's thirsty death, +To where beneath the sheltering crags we prayed +And rested and grew strong. Heroes and saints +To alien peoples shall they be, my brave +And patient warriors; for in their stout hearts +God's spirit dwells forever, and their hands +Are swift to do his service on his foes. +The swelling music of their vesper-hymn +Is rising fragrant from the shadowed vale +Familiar to the welcoming gates of heaven. + + _Mother of God! as evening falls + Upon the silent sea_. + +_ Mother of God! as evening falls +Upon the silent sea, +And shadows veil the mountain walls, +We lift our souls to thee! +From lurking perils of the night, +The desert's hidden harms, +From plagues that waste, from blasts that smite, +Defend thy men-at-arms!_ + +Ay! Heaven keep them! and ye angel-hosts +That wait with fluttering plumes around the great +White throne of God, guard them from scathe and harm! +For in your starry records never shone +The memory of desert so great as theirs. +I hold not first, though peerless else on earth, +That knightly valor, born of gentle blood +And war's long tutelage, which hath made their name +Blaze like a baleful planet o'er these lands; +Firm seat in saddle, lance unmoved, a hand +Wedding the hilt with death's persistent grasp; +One-minded rush in fight that naught can stay. +Not these the highest, though I scorn not these, +But rather offer Heaven with humble heart +The deeds that heaven hath given us arms to do. +For when God's smile was with us we were strong +To go like sudden lightning to our mark: +As on that summer day when Saladin-- +Passing in scorn our host at Antioch, +Who spent the days in revel, and shamed the stars +With nightly scandal--came with all his host, +Its gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Flaunting the banners of the Caliphate +Beneath the walls of fair Jerusalem: +And white and shaking came the Leper-King, +Great Baldwin's blasted scion, and Tripoli +And I, and twenty score of Temple Knights, +To meet the myriads marshalled by the bright +Untarnished flower of Eastern chivalry; +A moment paused with level-fronting spears +And moveless helms before that shining host, +Whose gay attire abashed the morning light, +And then struck spur and charged, while from the mass +Of rushing terror burst the awful cry, +_God and the Temple_! As the avalanche slides +Down Alpine slopes, precipitous, cold and dark, +Unpitying and unwrathful, grinds and crushes +The mountain violets and the valley weeds, +And drags behind a trail of chaos and death; +So burst we on that field, and through and through +The gay battalia brave with saffron silks, +Crushed and abolished every grace and gleam, +And dragged where'er we rode a sinuous track +Of chaos and death, till all the plain was filled +With battered armor, turbaned trunkless heads, +With silken mantles blushing angry gules +And Bagdad's banners trampled and forlorn. +And Saladin, stunned and bewildered sore,-- +The greatest prince, save in the grace of God, +That now wears sword,--mounted his brother's barb, +And, followed by a half-score followers, +Sped to his castle Shaubec, over against +The cliffs by Ascalon, and there abode: +And sullenly made order that no more +The royal nouba should be played for him +Until he should erase the rusting stain +Upon his knightly honor; and no more +The nouba sounded by the Sultan's tent, +Morning nor evening by the silent tent, +Until the headlong greed of Chatillon +Spread ruin on our cause from Montreale. +But greatest are my warriors, as I deem, +In that their hearts, nearer than any else +Keep true the pledge of perfect purity +They pledged upon their sword-hilts long ago. +For all is possible to the pure in heart. + + _Mother of God! thy starry smile + Still bless us from above! + Keep pure our souls from passion's guile, + Our hearts from earthly love! + Still save each soul from guilt apart + As stainless as each sword + And guard undimmed in every heart + The image of our Lord!_ + +O goodliest fellowship that the world has known, +True hearts and stalwart arms! above your breasts +Glitters no flash of wreathen amulet +Forged against sword-stroke by the chanted rhythm +Of charms accurst; but in each steadfast heart +Blazes the light of cloudless purity, +That like a splendid jewel glorifies +With restless fire the gold that spheres it round, +And marks you children of our God, whose lives +He guards with the awful jealousy of love. +And even me that generous love has spared,-- +Me, trustless knight and miserable man,-- +Sad prey of dark and mutinous thoughts that tempt +My sick soul into perjury and death-- +Since his great love had pity of my pain, +Has spared to lead these blameless warriors safe +Into the desert from the blazing towns, +Out of the desert to the inviolate hills +Where God has roofed them with his hollow shield. +Through all these days of tempest and eclipse +His hand has led me and his wrath has flashed +Its lightnings in the pathway of my sword. +And so I hope, and so my crescent faith +Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears +And toils and blood and anguish borne for him +May blot the accusing of my deadly sin +From heaven's high compt, and give me rest in death; +And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, +That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, +Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul. +My misery will atone,--my misery, +Dear God, will surely atone! for not the sting +Of macerating thongs, nor the slow horror +Of crowns of thorny iron maddening the brows, +Nor all that else pale hermits have devised +To scourge the rebel senses in their shade +Of caverned desolation, have the power +To smart and goad and lash and mortify +Like the great love that binds my ruined heart +Relentless, as the insidious ivy binds +The shattered bulk of some deserted tower, +Enlacing slow and riving with strong hands +Of pitiless verdure every seam and jut, +Till none may tear it forth and save the tower. +So binds and masters me my hopeless love. +So through the desert, in the silent hills, +I' the current of the battle's storm and stress, +One thought has driven me,--that though men may call +Me stainless Paladin, Knight leal and true +To Christ and Our Lady, still I know myself +A knight not after God's own heart, a soul +Recreant, and whelmed in the forbidden sin. +For dearer to my sad heart than the cross +I give my heart's best blood for are the eyes +That long ago, when youth and hope were mine, +I loved in thy still valleys, far Provence! +And sweeter to my spirit than the bells +Of rescued Salem are the loving tones +Of her dear voice, soft echoing o'er the years. +They haunt me in the stillness and the glare +Of desert noontide when the horizon's line +Swims faintly throbbing, and my shadow hides +Skulking beneath me from the brassy sky. +And when night comes to soothe with breath of balm +And pomp of stars the worn and weary world, +Her eyes rise in my soul and make its day. +And even into the battle comes my love, +Snatching the duty that I offer Heaven. + +At closing of El-Majed's awful day, +When the last quivering sunbeams, choked with dust +And fume of blood, failed on the level plain, +In the last charge, when gathered all our knights +The precious handful who from morn had stemmed +The fury of the multitudinous hosts +Of Islam, where in youth's hot fire and pride +Ramped the young lion-whelp, Ben-Saladin; +As down the slope we rode at eventide, +The dying sunlight faintly smiled to greet +Our tattered guidons and our dinted helms +And lance-heads blooming with the battle's rose. +Into the vale, dusk with the shadow of death, +With silent lips and ringing mail we rode. +And something in the spirit of the hour, +Or fate, or memory, or sorrow, or sin, +Or love, which unto me is all of these, +Possessed and bound me; for when dashed our troop +In stormy clangor on the Paynim lines +The soul of my dead youth came into me; +Faded away my oath; the woes of Zion, +God was forgot; blazed in my leaping heart, +With instant flash, life's inextinguished fires; +Plunging along each tense limb poured the blood +Hot with its years of sleeping-smothered flame. +And in a dream I charged, and in a dream +I smote resistless; foemen in my path +Fell unregarded, like the wayside flowers +Clipped by the truant's staff in daisied lanes. +For over me burned lustrous the dear eyes +Of my beloved; I strove as at a joust +To gain at end the guerdon of her smile. +And ever, as in the dense melee I dashed, +Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks +Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms. + +O my lost love! Bright o'er the waste of years-- +That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; +As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, +Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch +Of sands that intervene. In this still light +The old sweet memories glimmer back to me. +Fair summers of my youth,--the idle days +I wandered in the bosky coverts hid +In the dim woods that girt my ancient home; +The blue young eyes I met and worshipped there; +The love that growing turned those gloomy wilds +To faery dells, and filled the vernal air +With light that bathed the hills of Paradise; +The warm, long days of rapturous summer-time, +When through the forests thick and lush we strayed, +And love made our own sunshine in the shades. +And all things fair and graceful in the woods +I loved with liberal heart; the violets +Were dear for her dear eyes, the quiring birds +That caught the musical tremble of her voice. +O happy twilights in the leafy glooms! +When in the glowing dusk the winsome arts +And maiden graces that all day had kept +Us twain and separate melted away +In blushing silence, and my love was mine +Utterly, utterly, with clinging arms +And quick, caressing fingers, warm red lips, +Where vows, half uttered, drowned in kisses, died; +Mine, with the starlight in her passionate eyes; +The wild wind of the woodland breathing low +To wake the elfin music of the leaves, +And free the prisoned odors of the flowers, +In honor of young Love come to his throne! +While we under the stars, with twining arms +And mutual lips insatiate, gave our souls-- +Madly forgetting earth and heaven--to love! + +_In desert march or battles flame, + In fortress and in field, +Our war-cry is thy holy name, + Thy love our joy and shield! +And if we falter, let thy power + Thy stern avenger be, +And God forget us in the hour + We cease to think of thee!_ + +Curse me not, God of Justice and of Love! +Pitiful God, let my long woe atone! + +I cannot deem but God has pitied me; +Else why with painful care have I been saved, +Whenever tossed and drenched in the fierce tide +Of Saladin's victories by the walls profaned +Of Jaffa, on the sands of far Daroum, +Or in the battle thundering on the downs +Of Ramlah, or the bloody day that shed +Red horrors on high Gaza's parapets? +For never a storm of fatal fight has raged +In Islam's track of rout and ruin swept +From Egypt to Gebail, but when the ebb +Of battle came I and my host have lain, +Scarred, scorched, safe somewhere on its fiery shore. +At Marcab's lingering siege, where day by day +We told the Moslem legions toiling slow, +Planting their engines, delving in their mines +To quench in our destruction this last light +Of Christendom, our fortress in the crags, +God's beacon swung defiant from the stars; +One thunderous night I knew their miners groped +Below, and thought ere morn to die, in crush +And tumult of the falling citadel. +And pondering of my fate--the broken storm +Sobbing its life away--I was aware +There grew between me and the quieting skies +A face and form I knew,--not as in dreams, +The sad dishevelled loveliness of earth, +But lighter than the thin air where she swayed,-- +Gold hair flame-fluttered, eyes and mouth aglow +With lambent light of spiritual joy. +With sweet command she beckoned me away +And led me vaguely dreaming, till I saw +Where the wild flood in sudden fury had burst +A passage through the rocks: and thence I led +My host unharmed, following her luminous eyes, +Until the East was gray, and with a smile +Wooing me heavenward still she passed away +Into the rosy trouble of the dawn. + +And I believe my love is shrived in heaven, +And I believe that I shall soon be free. + +For ever, as I journey on, to me +Waking or sleeping come faint whisperings +And fancies not of earth, as if the gates +Of near eternity stood for me ajar, +And ghostly gales come blowing o'er my soul +Fraught with the amaranth odors of the skies. +I go to join the Lion-Heart at Acre, +And there, after due homage to my liege, +And after patient penance of the church, +And after final devoir in the fight, +If that my God be gracious, I shall die. +And so I pray--Lord pardon if I sin!-- +That I may lose in death's imbittered wave, +The stain of sinful loving, and may find +In glory again the love I lost below, +With all of fair and bright and unattained, +Beautiful in the cherishing smile of God, +By the glad waters of the River of Life! + +Night hangs above the valley; dies the day +In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, +And warns me to my prayers. _Ave Maria! + Mother of God! the evening fades + On wave and hill and lea_, + +_And in the twilight's deepening shades + We lift our souls to thee! +In passion's stress--the battles strife, + The desert's lurking harms, +Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life + Protect thy men-at-arms!_ + + + + +Translations. + + + +The Way to Heaven + +From the German. + + +One day the Sultan, grand and grim, +Ordered the Mufti brought to him. +"Now let thy wisdom solve for me +The question I shall put to thee. + +"The different tribes beneath my sway +Four several sects of priests obey; +Now tell me which of all the four +Is on the path to Heaven's door." + +The Sultan spake, and then was dumb. +The Mufti looked about the room, +And straight made answer to his lord. +Fearing the bowstring at each word: + +"Thou, godlike in thy lofty birth, +Who art our Allah upon earth, +Illume me with thy favoring ray, +And I will answer as I may. + +"Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, +I see there are four doors in all; +And through all four thy slaves may gaze +Upon the brightness of thy face. + +"That I came hither safely through +Was to thy gracious message due, +And, blinded by thy splendor's flame, +I cannot tell the way I came." + + + + +After Heine: Countess Jutta + +From the German of Heinrich Heine. + + +The Countess Jutta passed over the Rhine +In a light canoe by the moon's pale shine. +The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: +"Seest thou not there where the water breaks + Seven corpses swim + In the moonlight dim? +So sorrowful swim the dead! + +"They were seven knights full of fire and youth, +They sank on my heart and swore me truth. +I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, +Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, + I had them bound, + And tenderly drowned! +So sorrowful swim the dead!" + +The merry Countess laughed outright! +It rang so wild in the startled night! +Up to the waist the dead men rise +And stretch lean fingers to the skies. + They nod and stare + With a glassy glare! +So sorrowful swim the dead! + + + + +A Blessing. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +When I look on thee and feel how dear, + How pure, and how fair thou art, +Into my eyes there steals a tear, +And a shadow mingled of love and fear + Creeps slowly over my heart. + +And my very hands feel as if they would lay + Themselves on thy fair young head, +And pray the good God to keep thee alway +As good and lovely, as pure and gay,-- + When I and my wild love are dead. + + + + +To the Young. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Letyour feet not falter, your course not alter + By golden apples, till victory's won! +The sword's sharp clangor, the dart's shrill anger, + Swerve not the hero thundering on. + +A bold beginning is half the winning, + An Alexander makes worlds his fee. +No long debating! The Queens are waiting + In his pavilion on bended knee. + +Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing, + He mounts old Darius' bed and throne. +O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing! + O drunk death-triumph in Babylon! + + + + +The Golden Calf. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Double flutes and horns resound +As they dance the idol round; +Jacob's daughters, madly reeling, + Whirl about the golden calf. + Hear them laugh! +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Dresses tucked above their knees, +Maids of noblest families, +In the swift dance blindly wheeling, + Circle in their wild career + Round the steer,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + +Aaron's self, the guardian gray +Of the faith, at last gives way, +Madness all his senses stealing; + Prances in his high priest's coat + Like a goat,-- +Kettledrums and laughter pealing. + + + + +The Azra. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Daily walked the fair and lovely +Sultan's daughter in the twilight,-- +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the sparkling waters plash. + +Daily stood the young slave silent +In the twilight by the fountain, +Where the plashing waters sparkle, +Pale and paler every day. + +Once by twilight came the princess +Up to him with rapid questions: +"I would know thy name, thy nation, +Whence thou comest, who thou art." + +And the young slave said, "My name is +Mahomet, I come from Yemmen. +I am of the sons of Azra, +Men who perish if they love." + + + + +Good and Bad Luck. + +AFTER HEINE. + + +Good luck is the gayest of all gay girls, + Long in one place she will not stay, +Back from your brow she strokes the curls, + Kisses you quick and flies away. + +But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes + And stays,--no fancy has she for flitting,-- +Snatches of true love-songs she hums, + And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting. + + + + +L'Amour du Mensonge. + +After Charles Baudelaire. + + +When I behold thee, O my indolent love, + To the sound of ringing brazen melodies, +Through garish halls harmoniously move, + Scattering a scornful light from languid eyes; + +When I see, smitten by the blazing lights, + Thy pale front, beauteous in its bloodless glow +As the faint fires that deck the Northern nights, + And eyes that draw me wheresoever I go; + +I say, She is fair, too coldly strange for speech; + A crown of memories, her calm brow above, +Shines; and her heart is like a bruised red peach, + Ripe as her body for intelligent love. + +Art thou late fruit of spicy savor and scent? + A funeral vase awaiting tearful showers? +An Eastern odor, waste and oasis blent? + A silken cushion or a bank of flowers? + +I know there are eyes of melancholy sheen + To which no passionate secrets e'er were given; +Shrines where no god or saint has ever been, + As deep and empty as the vault of Heaven. + +But what care I if this be all pretense? + 'T will serve a heart that seeks for truth no more, +All one thy folly or indifference,-- + Hail, lovely mask, thy beauty I adore! + + + + +Amor Mysticus. + +From the Spanish of Sor Marcela de Carpio. + + +Let them say to my Lover + That here I lie! +The thing of His pleasure, + His slave am I. + +Say that I seek Him + Only for love, +And welcome are tortures + My passion to prove. + +Love giving gifts + Is suspicious and cold; +I have all, my Beloved, + When Thee I hold. + +Hope and devotion + The good may gain; +I am but worthy + Of passion and pain. + +So noble a Lord + None serves in vain, +For the pay of my love + Is my love's sweet pain. + +I love Thee, to love Thee,-- + No more I desire; +By faith is nourished + My love's strong fire. + +I kiss Thy hands + When I feel their blows; +In the place of caresses + Thou givest me woes. + +But in Thy chastising + Is joy and peace. +O Master and Love, + Let Thy blows not cease. + +Thy beauty, Beloved, + With scorn is rife, +But I know that Thou lovest me + Better than life. + +And because Thou lovest me, + Lover of mine, +Death can but make me + Utterly Thine. + +I die with longing + Thy face to see; +Oh! sweet is the anguish + Of death to me! + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by John Hay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 10518.txt or 10518.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/1/10518/ + +Produced by Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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