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5 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. # 



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J UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 



POEMS. 



BY / 

AMANDA T. JONES. 



$riuUb at tlje Uivcxsibz Press, 

AND FOR SALE BY 

HURD AND HOUGHTON, NEW YORK. 

1867. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 

Amanda T. Jones, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt for the Northern District of 

New York. 



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MEMBERS OF THE "NAMELESS CLUB," 

I WOULD GRATEFULLY PRESENT THE RESULTS OF THAT LABOR 
WHICH THEY HAVE SO KINDLY ENCOURAGED AND AP- 
PROVED, PRAYING THEM TO ACCEPT THEREWITH 
EARNEST ASSURANCES OF MY SISTERLY 
REGARD. 

A. T. J. 



CONTENTS. 



♦ 

PAGE 

Atlantis . . . % 11 

The Prophecy of the Dead 64 

The Soldier's Mother . , * . . . .67 

Fort- Donelson 70 

The Battle of Gaines' Hill 73 

Richmond 78 

The Soldier's Bride 81 

The Night-Battle under Lookout Mountain . . 87 

The Year of Emancipation 96 

Aprdl Days 100 

Shine, Sun of the Summer 102 

In "Forest Lawn" 105 

The Year of Victories 107 

A Rebel Flag of Truce Ill 

Fort Sumter 115 

The South Wind 118 

Threnody 120 

A Ballad of the South and North .... 124 

The Realm of the West 127 

The Year of Peace 129 

The Soliloquy of Liberty 133 

The Vision of the Egyptian Priest .... 139 

Day and Night 146 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Morta 148 

do we love as we loved long ago? .... 152 

Shipwrecked 155 

Hertha 158 

The Ballad of Ethel Lee 163 

The Evening Star 166 

My Glade in the West 169 

Death in the Forest 173 

Floating on the Lake 175 

Leonora 177 

White Violets 180 

Fallen Fruits 183 

Flowers of Autumn 185 

Anniversary Poem 187 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



ATLANTIS. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

Neptune, having made war with Athena for the possession of 
Acta, and being about to prevail, the noise of their conflict reached 
the ears of Zeus, monarch of the gods, who, descending, commanded 
that Neptune should inherit all lands, save only Acta ; upon whose 
plains still should flourish the olive, symbol of the power of Athena, 
and whose people should worship only her forever. 

The ocean-god, fain to submit to the unalterable fiat, Sttpd thence 
across the Ionian and Tyrrhenian waters, passing beyond the Pillars 
of Hercules, and delaying not until the wheels of his chariot had 
swept the shores of that mid-sea island, Atlantis. 

There abiding, with Amphitrite, his wife, all good fortune befell 
the island and the people thereof. 

Nevertheless, having afterward permitted that his sons should 
rule in his stead, — receiving all kingly observances as became their 
divine birth, — they grew over-proud, murmuring among themselves 
against that decree of Heaven, and desiring tribute and adoration 
from the Athenians. 

Their ever-loyal subjects, hearing their murmurings, and being 
concerned for the honor of their god, gathered themselves together 
with all the armaments of war, and voyaged toward Acta, design- 
ing to compel her people to forsake their queen, Athena, and wor- 
ship only Neptune, — counted greatest among terrestrial powers. 

But the children of Acta, having been warned to prepare for war 
by many signs and wonders in heaven and on earth, met them in 
great force when they had landed, and waged warfare with them 
mightily for the space of half a day. Being driven back, however, 
to the foot of their mountains, they must have utterly perished, had 
not Athena hastened to their rescue. Her following, they turned 
upon those Islanders, overcame and wholly slew them, so that all 



10 THE ARGUMENT. 

the valleys were laden with dead. These, being upgathered, were 
cast upon the decks of their vessels, and, drifted by a miraculous 
tide, came at sunset to their own country, where was then great 
wonder and grief for what had befallen them. 

Zeus, perceiving that the people of Atlantis had dealt guiltily by 
the Athenians, striving to make slaves of those himself had pro- 
nounced free, caused that an earthquake should rend their island, 
and utterly overwhelm it in the sea. 



ATLANTIS. 




PRELUDE. 

I. 

F earth's lost youth thou hast re- 
vived in dreams, 
Hast set swift sails and moored in 
ports of yore, 
Up shining channels traced forgotten streams 
Enriched with lilies white from rim to core ; 
Thou needs must know that strange bar- 
baric shore, 
(Nathless unhistoried now and long sub- 
merged,) 
- Where Neptune's sons imperial sceptres 

bore ; 
Against whose sparkling borders, blossom- 
verged, 
Their fleet, wave-climbing steeds, the gods of 
ocean urged. 



12 ATLANTIS. 

II. 
Unkinged, Atlantis, are thy hapless guests ; 
They mourn, they wail for thee through 
ice-wrought caves ; 
By torrid isles they lift sea-burdened breasts, 
They fail with grief, they sink in sobbing 

waves. 
Ah, their rich temples loud with singing 
slaves — 
Their tribute-yielding people prone to kneel ! 
Ah, their broad realm ! the pathless deep 
it paves ; 
O'er its bold mountains reef-torn vessels 
reel : 
No minstrels chant its w T oe and none recite its 
weal. 

in. 

Lo ! yet our marvel-loving souls have caught 

That old belief profanely scoffed as vain, — 

" Beyond the heights of Hercules, 't is 

thought, 

Of yore an island gorged the whelming 

main : 
In sooth strange dyes the stagnant waters 
stain, 
And all seafarers of the West aver, 



ATLANTIS. 13 

There weedy shoals their urgent barks 
detain, 
And rushes o'er the ruffled surface stir — 
That seem of fearful matters always to confer." 

IV. 

So they — the careful scribes of ancient lore : 
Thereat no visionist waves the doubting 
head; 
For while rare dreams their precious chrisms 
outpour, 
Our souls perceive the light of cycles fled, — 
Breathe alien airs and traffic with the dead ; 
Drink of deep founts that erst in coolness 
welled ; 
Aye ! with thine awful rulers, reverent 
tread 
Across thy very meads, thou isle of Eld ! 
Thy name we have not scorned, nor faith there- 
in withheld. 




CANTO I. 

i. 
^HEN first Athena's wind-borne arrows 
sang 
Through Acta's clouds and down its 
ranges grand, 
At once to life her symbol olive sprang, 
And Terra hailed her goddess of the land : 
But mighty Neptune rushed upon the 
strand, 
(Far-off the firm hills, trembling, felt the 
shock ! ) 
His whirling trident left the sinewy hand, 
It struck and tarried, vibrant in the rock, 
And crested billows there did rise and round 
it flock. 

ii. 
" Behold ! " he cried, " mine are the rugged 
vales ; 
The fearful cliffs my dread approach attend ; 
Up the green slopes my foam-white sea-bird 
sails : 



A TLANTIS. 15 

Arid briny founts these roofs of granite 

rend ! " 
Straight did her bow the maiden-goddess 
bend, — 
" Mine are the plains," she echoed, " mine 
the shores ! 
For me their songs the light cicadse blend ; 
I call — from sun-dried chasms the torrent 
pours, 
While fruitful groves make haste to drop their 
bloomy stores." 

in. 
Far flew the shaft through Acta's morning 
air — 
The bucklered breast of Neptune felt the 
stroke : 
Then burst such war as only gods may dare ! 
Then giants rose, then sluggish Triton 

woke; 
His wonted bound the reeking ocean broke, 
And, mad with tides, went plunging down 
the dales; 
Wide rolled o'er all the crater's jetty smoke, 
The hissing lava chased the valeward gales, 
And through the seething floods did wreathe 
its ruddy scales. 



16 ATLANTIS. 



IV. 

Strong were the wrathful gods — the strife 
was dire : 
From glittering shield and helm and bald- 
rick brave, 
Their clashing javelins strewed the winds 
with fire ; 
In onset swift They trode the frothing 

wave — 
Till highest heaven an echoing clamor gave, 
And Zeus, monarch of the gods, arose : 
Down darkened steeps his dreadful bolts he 
drave — 
They shook the brooding mists with sunder- 
ing throes, 
And, crashing, smote apart the fierce, unvan- 
quished foes. 

v. 
From pale recoil immortal brows they reared, 

In all the pride of majesty divine : 
Howbeit their Titan minions fled afeared — 
Deep caves received them and the bound- 
less brine, 
Whose tides, receding, sought their past 
confine ; 
Volcano-springs their fiery rivers stayed ; 



A TLANTIS. 17 

The whirlwind died along its scathful line ; 
The tempest-herded clouds did shrink and 
fade, 
And rolling seas of light pursued the fleeting 
shade. 

VI. 

Lo, the sheen azure of the crystal vault 
Rose, arch on arch, beyond the ravished 
sight ! 
Effulgent hues noon's glory did exalt 
Of sapphire, ruby, and fair chrysolite, 
Opal and pearl, and chalcedony white, 
And pure, pellucid beryl ; soft did blaze 
Their sevenfold splendors : while from in- 
finite height, 
As one whose voice the skyey realm obeys, 
Descended all serene the god of countless days. 

VII. 

Supernal radiance sphered his sovran head : 
The lustrous sun before him paled and 
pined ; 
In golden rest the seas unbillowed spread, 
And whelming light entranced the songless 

wind. 
Worldward the Sire his awful eyes de- 
clined, 

2 



18 ATLANTIS. 

Where knelt the strivers, pale as snow-fed 
flowers : 
" No more," he said, " the blasts of War 
unbind ! 
Still for Athena flourish Acta's bowers ; 
All else be thine, thou lord of sea-abiding 
powers ! " 

VIII. 

He spake, and up receiving heavens he passed ; 
Beneath his feet there rolled a luminous 
brede 
Of stars, whose vivid nebulae, white and vast, 
The swift-pursuing vision did impede. 
Slowly the fading day, from shore and 
mead, 
Soared zenithward, and, glimmering, died on 
hio-h : 
As saintly souls, so did from earth recede 
Its tremulous flames, and night began to sigh 
Along the desert wave and through the sunless 
sky. 

IX. 

Uprose the whilom warriors : free of use, 
Helmet and shield and javelin cast aside, 

Gleamed on the dusky strand in silent truce : 
Nor might the darkness which did there 
reside 



ATLANTIS. 19 

Those glowing shapes of beauteous godship 
hide : 
But brow and breast and limb of ivory shone 
Fair as the milk-white moons that rise and 
glide 
O'er distant HerschePs night-involved zone, 
And bid admiring spheres their veiling shades 
disown. 

x. 

Now grows the dim world voluble : the dells 

With choral ranks of forest-dwellers gleam ; 

And fountain-nymphs, who peal their silver 

bells, 

That make the sleeping hills of echoes 

dream. 
Sweetly the hours from silence they re- 
deem — 
They cry " Athena comes ! Behold, behold 
The silver stars that o'er her break and 
beam ! 
Green olives high their singing boughs up- 
hold; 
They hail her Acta's queen with voices mani- 
fold." 

XI. 

Slow-waving flowers arise, as if the Spring 
Had blown his reedy music far and wide — 



20 ATLANTIS. 

And nightingales begin to wave the wing 
And pant and thrill in ecstasies of pride ; 
Their welling raptures ripple and subside, 
Till all the passing zephyrs swoon with song : 
" Athena comes ! more fair than crowned 
bride ! 
With blast nor sleet, ye mounts, her presence 
wrong : 
Breathe softly-loud her praise, afar the chant 
prolong ! " 

XII. 

Now swells the sea its coming lord to greet : 
From isle to isle full fast the tidings drift ; 
The speedy billows roll around his feet; 
A crescent-shapen chariot high they lift ; 
They urge the steed from out the watery 
rift, 
While foamy hands make haste to fling the 
rein; 
Ascends the god — the dripping wheels are 
swift, 
The glittering hoofs fast beat the charmed 
main, 
Whose surges crouch before and all their waves 
restrain ! 




CANTO II. 



r OW summer-fair, in central ocean, rose 
Thy shore, Atlantis, wrought with 
fret and bay ; 
What time the orient banners might disclose 
The azure-staining gules of dawning day ! 
How frail thy scarf of zephyr-wafted spray, 
That glimmered while the sunshine yet was 
scant ! 
How green thy paths, where glancing lights 
did play 
And softly sweep the forest-shades aslant ! 
How blest the soul were such its everlasting 
haunt ! 

ii. 

There grew all flowers the brightness to en- 
hance ; 
There lyre-like winds did chime in every 
glade ; 
A thousand heights did shining streams elance, 
From sun-lit crags to valley/ steeped in 
shade ; 



22 ATLANTIS. 

A thousand lucent, winding rivers strayed 
By fragrant mounds, where flights of golden 
bees 
The leaf-enshielded chalices o'erweighed, 
Spilling the dew to reach the honey-lees ; 
And there were verdant palms and many stately 
trees. 

in. 
There shells of crimson strewed the shadowy 
sands, 
As sunset clouds on ashen skies afloat ; 
And there all birds that dwell in lightsome 
lands 
Shook wings of flame, and sang and soared 

remote, 
Till fain the senses ceased thereon to dote, 
And but the happy heart with song was sweet ; 
And ah, the deepening floods of light that 
smote 
The leafy gates of every dim retreat, 
And on the waveless lakes made white each 
flowery fleet ! 

IV. 

There ruddy fruits on lowly tendrils clung, 
Spicing each breeze o'er field and fertile 
cape ; 



ATLANTIS. 23 

All tropic drupes from rustling branches hung, 
Sun - steeped, delicious, fair of hue and 

shape ; 
And vines far-climbing, such as greenly 
drape 
Unsightly rocks, o'er every boulder grew ; 
Dark waxed the crowded clusters of the 
grape, 
Their swelling globes earth's rarest sweetness 
drew, 
Till warm and rich they swung, a-drip with 
purple dew. 

v. 

Peace smoothed the velvet sward of every 
slope ; 
Earthquake nor avalanche dared the still- 
ness shock ; 
By swift cascades the lithe-limbed antelope, 
As fleetly vaulting, leaped from rock to 

rock; 
Each glen did some pure fountain-source 
unlock, 
Where panther, ounce, and taw r ny lion drank 
Beside the antlered herd and fleecy flock; 
No scarlet death might stain or wave or bank, 
For none his fellow vexed — no menaced weak- 
ling shrank. 



24 ATLANTIS. 



VI. 

There human voices, ever soft and clear, 
Framed murmuring speech or rose in wafts 
of song ; 
And tremulous laughters, light and sweet to 
hear, 
Echo's fine bugles faintly did prolong: 
Gentle and free the race, and brave and 
strong ; 
As blithe and kindly as the showers of Spring. 
Its graceful youth the blossomed ways did 
throng, 
With smiles and blushes bright as Love may 
bring : 
In beauty bloomed they all, and none went 
sorrowing. 

* 

Sea-gfeen of Eld, while thus the cymbals clash, 
The lips unskilled assay the stately theme — 
How all thy greatness did the world abash ; 
Thy rule, adoring kings account supreme ; 
How, for thy hurt, dared priest nor mon- 
arch scheme, 
Till thine own deed the grievous ruin dealt — 
Oh, may the rugged strain some sweetness 
seem 



ATLANTIS. 25 

To gather, as the breezy echoes melt ; 
And grander bards forgive, who at thy grave 
have knelt ! 

VIII. 

No murky cloud his spotless disk to hide, 
The sun, through surges vast his way had 
cleft, 
And all the crisping, restive waters wide, 
Of twilight's wave-encumbering shades be- 

reft, 
Did glister as a snowy-threaden weft, 
With flickering gems afloat in every fold, 

And soft sea-colors interwoven deft: 
I wis nor daisied path nor street of gold, 
E'er shone as this whereon great Neptune's 
chariot rolled. 

IX. 

All night its gleaming wheels had tracked 
the waste ; 
Like serpents ran the ripples in their wake ; 
Their beamy coils the quivering furrows 
traced, 
As moonbeams, over crested billows, break 
Through undulating shade and frothen 
flake : 
All night the ocean-steed, with tossing head 
And speedful limbs no bird might overtake, 



26 ATLANTIS. 

With streaming mane on buoyant winds out- 
spread, 
From Acta's coast, full far, his westward course 
had sped. 

x. 

Across the wild Ionian floods that pour 
Libations low at burning ^Etna's feet, 
Where grand Charybdis breathes his sullen 
roar, 
Where Tyrrhene gulfs their Alpine bound- 
aries beat, 
Through pillar-guarded straits that roll to 
meet 
The deep Atlantic — cool with Arctic streams, 
And sounding airs too swift for summer- 
heat, 
Yet fresh and pure as childhood's morning- 
dreams — 
He came, the god, for whom with life old 
ocean teems. 

XI. 

Around the reverent water-creatures trooped, 

Nereid or nymph or siren, each unveiled 

Her wondrous eves, whose teary lashes 

drooped 

O'er lovely cheeks with cavern-slumbers 

paled ; 



A TLANTIS. 27 

Down lapsing waves their filmy raiment 
sailed, 
Nor scarce their half-emergent forms might 
screen ; 
Along the surf their white arms lightly 
trailed, 
Or lifted high the sea-weed garland green : 
They swam on either hand — the chariot rolled 
between. 

XII. 

And every naiad-voice at whiles out-breaking, 
In bursts of songful sweetness pealed 
around ; 
Thereafter valley-groves and uplands, waking, 
All resonant, air-enriching murmurs found. 
No passing breath but bore its freight of 
sound, 
And by unrifled roses, dying, sang ; 

Nor jarring note the eager ear might 
wound, 
But clear and loud the choral paeans rang, 
As up the pebbled beach the steed, unweary, 
sprang. 

XIII. 

To earth light leaped the god, w T hile dale 
and plain, 



28 ATLANTIS. 

And ledge-built cave where falling waters 
hide, 
Thrilled with his lifted voice that rang amain, 
And " Amphitrite ! Amphitrite ! " — wide 
The bruiting winds his ardent summons 
cried, 
With " Amphitrite ! ,f startling all the strand: 
Her name the dewy breeze, far-floating, 
sighed, 
The crimson trouble of her cheek it fanned, 
While, slow and love-constrained, she crossed 
the bounteous land. 



xiv. 
Majestic was her mien ; her stately head 
Enwreathed with silver flowers of lake and 
lea, 
Wherefrom the fragrance-loaden drops were 
shed 
Down all her hair that, circling, floated 

free ; 
It seemed as light and shade did there 
agree, 
And, dimly-lustrous, blend and interlace : 
Deep were her eyes and colored like the 
sea; 



ATLANTIS. 29 

As wind-brought wave she moved with un- 
dulate grace, 
And all the goddess shone resplendent in her 
face ! 

xv. 

And wheresoe'er her feet did press the vales, 

There snow-excelling asphodels did spring ; 

Her smile beholding, mild as are the gales 

Of slumberous Iran grew the wreakful 

king; 
Trident nor warring javelin might he fling, 
But tuneful as celestial marriage-lyres 

His rapturous song made all the aether 
ring, 
Through azure spaces — far as Love aspires ! 
Abashed the ocean shrank and hushed its 
trembling choirs. 

XVI. 

" My bride," he sang, " the golden isle be 
ours ! 
From verge to verge its splendor shall 
exceed ; 
Its founts shall rise in youth-renewing showers, 
Its blushful fruit undying lips shall feed. 
Here Pan all day shall blow his river-reed, 
All night shall oreads breathe their roundels 
sweet ; 



30 ATLANTIS. 

Their flitting shapes, from whispering ce- 
dars freed, 
Shall haunt as dreams our shadow-veiled re- 
treat, 
Where slumber-silenced hours shall move with 
slothful feet. 

XVII. 

" Here while the cycles blissfully appear, 
Our kingly sons their steadfast thrones 
shall climb : 
Swift hands shall toil their templed halls to 
rear, 
Whose cloud-hung bells on soaring winds 

shall chime ; 
No mystic scripture there shall threat of 
time, 
No voice of prophet utter woes abroad : 
But clang of harp and chant of lore sub- 
lime, 
Shall heaven's high-vaulted roofs of peace 
defraud : 
For always minstrels proud the island gods 
shall laud ! 

XVIII. 

"Here shall the sphere-descended powers 
recline, 



ATLANTIS, 31 

Their half-furled wings yet tremulous with 
flight ; 
Their rose-like cheeks aflush with nectarous 
wine, 
Their locks afloat on aery billows bright ; 
While mossy couches soft to rest invite, 
By rills, whose brinks with crystal overflow, 
Their love celestial shall the land requite, 
Bid vaunting Death the beauteous clime 
forego, 
And on its blooming race immortal life bestow. 

XIX. 

" And there shall be no darkness of despair, 
No voice of wailing grief, no briny tear ; 
The flower, to-day half-budded, shall be fair 
To-morrow, nor to-morrow disappear ; 
The strain melodious, willing ears shall 
hear 
Unsated day by day ; the laughing eye 
Shall lose no light, though fleet year fol- 
low year; 
There shall no beauty fade, no friendship die, 
And ever sweetly kind shall Love to Love 
reply." 




CANTO III. 



MYSTIC realm where ruled the death- 
less kings, 
While times unmeasured rolled in 
light away ! 
Serene wert thou with oft-recurring springs, 
And soft reflections of transplendent day. 
Celestial heralds waved their bright array 
Upon thy sunbeat mountain-peaks, aglow 
With wandering clouds and drifts of shining 
spray ; 
Far soaring skyward, or descending slow, 
Their silver-plumed wings swept ever to and fro. 

ii. 

Along thy rills there crept no boreal breath ; 

No sounding storm o'er tranquil valleys 

w r hirled ; 

Far-fleeting thence, that silent warrior Death, 

O'er sunless snows his conquering banners 

furled, 
Nor darkened noon nor crossed a withering 
world. 



ATLANTIS. 33 

Oft through thy skies, with pomp imperial 
riven, 
Great Zeus rode, his hissing bolts unhurled : 
Down jasper ways his flying steeds were 
driven, 
And all the isle was sweet with effluent airs of 
heaven. 

in. 
Alas, the sons of Neptune ! proud were they, 

Of princely step and beauty all divine; 
Their word the fleet, capricious wind did 
sway, 
Of rushing streams the boundaries did as- 
sign, 
Nor less compelled the ever-moving brine : 
Low at their feet the reverent people knelt, 
With all translucent gifts of wave and 
mine : 
'Neath pillared domes of wroughten ore they 
dwelt, 
And tribute-burdened fleets their shelly coasts 
did belt. 

IV. 

For them the West its riches did unbar; 
Kingdoms obeyed them from their island- 
throne : 

3 



34 ATLANTIS. 

Nathless, in Acta's glowing land afar, 
Loved of the gods, Athena ruled alone ! 
Against her cliffs the fettered floods did 
moan ; 
Her opulent olives drooped with tawny fruit ; 
Her thousand fields with crystal torrents 
shone, 
Where sylvan sirens smote the lightsome lute, 
And held, with dulcet song, all wrackful tem- 
pests mute. 

v. 
Through groves where lentisk-boughs their 
fragrance breathed, 
Like flitting birds abroad her arrow T s flew ; 
The whirring barbs in many a dell were 
sheathed, 
Whose secret waters well the summons 

knew ; 
Elate they tossed their gemmy founts of 
dew — 
Whereby the turf its sweetest flowers re- 
leased : 
Spray-cooled and fleet the delicate breezes 
blew r , 
Nor soft-blown pipes their light responding 
ceased, 
While loitering nymph or goddess spread her 
fruity feast. 



ATLANTIS. 35 



VI. 

And all was rest ! the deer unhunted ranged, 

The archer's aim no circling wing assailed ; 

From bloom to bloom the dreamful seasons 

changed ; 

The moony nights but rarer sight unveiled, 

Of blossom vapor-white, or rainbow paled, 

Or faint and fleecy citadel of cloud, 

Whose glimmering spires in ruddy flame 
exhaled, 
What time to greet the sun mid harpings loud, 
At once the glacial heights with beacon-fires 
grew proud. 



VII. 

The sea-born rulers murmured in their 
towers — 
" Shall isles revere, shall North and South 
obey, 
Shall heaven be red with gold of falling 
showers, 
But Acta's clime no costly tribute pay ? 
Behold, afar, her haughty hills array 
Their slopes in summer verdure : fair below 
Sleep spicy groves and rivers warm with 
day, 



36 ATLANTIS. 

Whose beds are gems, whose waters pure and 
slow, 
Seem stained with yellow dates, where palms 
their shadows throw. 

VIII. 

" And lo, the stealthy leopard o'er her plains 
Basks in the sun his lustrous black and 
gold; 
And scarlet plumes and snow of feathery 
trains 
Flicker among the grasses of the mold ; 
With many a graceful coil and flexile fold 
Do gayly glittering serpents charm the sight ; 
Unstinted there are fadeless hues outrolled 
Of amber, blushing rose, and lucid white — 
So fair is Acta's land, so blooming-rich and 
bright ! " 

IX. 

They murmured in their halls, and near and 
far, 
From lip to lip in haste the tale was told, 
With voice of rising wrath and vaunt of war, 
Fast-gathering ranks and counsels manifold. 
The laughing children at their games grew 
bold, 
Commanding " Give us arrows, sharp and 
strong ! 



ATLANTIS. 37 

No more shall Acta's sons their wealth with- 
hold." 
And lance was wrought, with halberd, shield 
and thong, 
Mid clang of steel and brass and burst of battle- 
song. 

x. 

In turbulent haste the caverned hills were 
rent, 
Their marble pillars cleft and overturned, 
Their firm rocks torn from gorge and deep 
descent, 
Till all revealed their golden bases burned. 
Vainly the lofty oak his fellows spurned — 
Rived, from his lordly height, he, shrieking, 
fell ; 
Full soon the strong-built ships for ocean 
yearned, 
With flashing prows that did the surf repel, 
And wavering sails wherein the fair winds sought 
to dwell. 

XI. 

Dawned there a morn, and all with one ac- 
cord 
Their peaceful garb aside the people cast; 
Their voiceful legions trod the lilied sward, 



38 ATLANTIS. 

Loud as the floods where hurricanes have 

passed ; 
At Neptune's shrine 'neath echoing arches 
vast, 
Thronging they bade the ivory gates divide : 
" O thou whose arm withholds the win- 
nowing blast, 
Be ours thy strength, great king of seas!" 
they cried — 
" Thee shall nor mortals mock nor scornful gods 
deride. " 

XII. 

At once within the temple's sacred gloom, 

O'er opalescent shrine and coral stair, 
Swift-spreading flames brake forth in crimson 
bloom, 
And flushed their light along the dusky air. 
The fragrant floors of sandal-wood did 
wear 
The hue of roses ; arch and pictured wall, 
Embossment, frieze, and wreathen column 
rare, 
Entablature and snowy statue, all 
Shone fair as rifted clouds when suns of sum- 
mer fall. 



ATLANTIS. 39 



XIII. 

And, faint and soft, a rippling sound began 

Along the glowing corridors to steal : 
Onward the ear-enchanting numbers ran, 
Far-flowing, throbbing, swelling, peal on 

peal, 
Till, music-whelmed, the floating sense did 
reel : 
" He hears ! " the people shouted, all attent ; 
" The grateful god approves our holy zeal : 
With affluent glory lo, he smiles assent; 
And his exulting voice foretells the glad event ! " 

XIV. 

Thereat the surge-like din to silence fell : 

But snatched on brazen clarions burst anew ; 
While reed and light bandore with gentle 
swell, 
Did softly beat and harsher strains subdue. 
Their seaward ways did rapturous throngs 
pursue : 
The foam of striving w r aters at their feet 
One long' and glittering thread of silver 
threw ; 
And viewless aery spirits, wild and fleet, 
All merrily and loud their wings began to beat. 



40 ATLANTIS. 



XV. 

I ween it was a fair and goodly sight — 

A thousand vessels rocking on the tide, 
Like white swans half-afloat, half-poised for 
flight, 
That not in wave nor yet in air abide ; 
And with the winds, that seemed their stay 
to chide, 
Went streaming scarlet pennons, and the stir 

Of yellow flag and silken awning wide, 
And cleaving oar of hurrying Islander, 
Did all with music soft the lingering morn deter. 

XVI. 

Followed the Noon, her white hand dipping 

low 

To fret the goldened waters ; sweet as sleep 

Breathed parting songs that, trembling, drifted 

slow 

From shores receded : eyes there were did 

weep, 
In bowery haunts, to see the far sails sweep 
Their snow against the azure of the East ; 
But well the proud ships rode the sunny 
deep, 
Full well thereon the mirthful din increased, 
And lofty-minded youth no vaunt of victory 
ceased. 



ATLANTIS. 41 

XVII. 

The skies were fair, the light mist swam 

above ; 

Under the lee the trooping billows laughed ; 

The breeze was gentle as the voice of love ; 

On dimpled waves the white crest waltzed 

abaft ; 
The seas, inebriate, still the sunlight quaffed, 
And sank and sighed with luxury of wine : 

Idle the seamen on their rocking craft, 
That orientward did constantly incline, 
And ever fleetly rode the unresisting brine. 

XVIII. 

Cuirass and graven helmet caught the sun, 
Canopied throne and flashing crown were 
there ; 
Brave webs whose thread was of the fine gold 
spun, 
And kingly forms adorned beyond compare. 
Lightly they rode, nor did their speed for- 
bear : 
Ah, goodly was the sight, but first that day, 
Death, in thy vales, Atlantis, spread the 
snare ; 
Hid under dewy flowers the sure dismay ; 
Drew his unfailing bow and set the shafts that 
slay. 






42 ATLANTIS. 

XIX. 

Then first within the bud the slow worm 

crawled ; 

Then vipers first were found and reptiles 

foul ; 

Then first the linnet's downy brood, appalled, 

Shrank from the murdering talons of the 

owl : 
Then beasts, grown terrible, began to prowl 
Within the wood ; then children learned to 
wail, 
Maidens to sigh and vengeful youths to 
scowl. 
Woe, woe, Atlantis, thou who didst prevail ! 
Where shall thy refuge be, when angry gods 
assail ? 




CANTO IV. 

i. 

|N Acta's realm a cry of fear was heard, 
" What mean these troublous voices 
of the sea ? 
Wilder than shriek of battling ocean-bird 
They utter prophecies of woes to be ; 
They call, they answer — ' Who shall help 
decree ? 
Behold the wings of swift despair outspread ! 
Sleep shall make bond the souls that yet 
are free : 
Deep sighs there be, low-breathed among the 
dead, 
With whisperings faint they rise, the dewless 
winds they tread I ' " 

ii. 
And pale were Acta's children : " Lo," they 
cried, 
" The sun, at noon, has worn the veil of 
night ! 
Nor now in steadfast state the stars abide, 



44 ATLANTIS. 

They break from bound, they cleave the 

skies in flight. 
Drawn on the vaporous heaven are visions 
white 
Of mighty ships with mimic sails, that dare 

Aerial deeps, and loud on every height 
Mysterious tidings sound, 4 Prepare, prepare ! 
The ravening eagle flies, the lion leaves his 
lair!' 

in. 

u And fateful clouds that guard the Delphic 
shrine 
Are quick with flames that threaten to 
devour ; 
And dismal cries and chantings sibylline, 
Make terrible the midnight's moonless hour. 
In haste, through every naiad-haunted 
bower, 
Some herald, terror-pale, in shadow fleets: 
6 How dread,' they cry, ' how dread great 
Neptune's power ! 
With wanton speed he rides the billowy 
streets : 
Prepare ! Athena's voice the slumbering land 
entreats ! ' " 



ATLANTIS. 45 



IV. 

Straight flashed the steely barb; with bor- 
rowed fire 
Shone burnished mail and golden-hilted 
glaive : 
Slept on the sunny turf the fallen lyre ; 
And tocsin-peal, and blare of cornet brave,. 
And beaten tabret did the winds enslave : 
Up from their homes the hurrying people 
pressed, 
With wandering eyes that scanned the 
rolling wave, 
Or pierced the vaulty azure of the West, 
And sought, they knew not what, or, trem- 
bling, dimly guessed. 



Perchance no more than darkness of eclipse, 
Or silver star beyond his fellows whirled ; 
Or far fantastic forms of mimic ships, 
With frail, ethereal sails in air unfurled : 
Or if Destruction o'er a darkening world, 
Sped by the angry gods should whet his blade, 
Ere yet the dire-impending wrath were 
hurled, 
Might fair Athena, swift her sons to aid, 
Arrest his crimson arm and bid their doom be 
stayed. 



46 ATLANTIS. 



VI. 

Such heavenly help the kneeling people 
sought ; 
At every shrine they breathed their rev- 
erent vows : 
When, borne from far, on rising blasts, they 
caught 
The noise of swelling floods and cleaving 

prows. 
Uplifted they their earth-abased brows, 
With breath that scarce, for wonder, heaved 
the breast; 
As when his path the sparry iceberg 
plows 
Through drifting deeps, fast rending crest 
from crest, 
So that far-vovacged fleet the waters did molest. 

VII. 

And scarlet pennons floated on the gales, 

And yellow flags were waving in the sun ; 
On glittering yards full whitely swung the 
sails — 
Bay-wreathed were they, as Victory, lightly 

won, 
Already smiled and told of battles done ; 
Loud were the singing crews, the dense array 



ATLANTIS. 47 

Of armM men, proud sire and princely son : 
Their lances poised, their arrows winged for 
fray, 
Bright-panoplied they stood, alert and strong to 
slay. 

VIII. 

On tides that did the verdant headlands 

threat 

Their bounding ships rode up the whelmed 

shore ; 

For rushing winds did rushing waves abet — 

Those struck the mast, these at the helm 

did roar, 
Till, cast on verdant meads, the keels 
forbore, 
And eddying surges, sinking, swept the beach. 
Not then did kneeling crowds their gods 
implore ; 
None made assay to daunten or beseech : 
But swift as hurtling clouds each launched his 
bolts on each. 

IX. 

Then was there din that shook the crag-built 
land, 
Upstartling every harp-lulled mountain- 
blast ; 

Then cavern-spirits shrieked from strand to 
strand, 



48 ATLANTIS. 

While oreads fled, and giants stood aghast ! 
Front hurled on front with tramp of legions 
vast, 
Clashing of shields and clang of flying spear ; 
With flame of far-flung missiles foeward 
cast ; 
With neigh of steed, wild shout of charioteer, 
And rush of wheels on-rolled in battle's mad 
career. 

x. 

Ah, fair Atlantis, island of the blest, 

What crystal fountain fed these fiery veins ? 
What sounding lyre of star-descended guest, 
Chimed prelude soft to rouse these war- 
ring strains? 
What purple bloom outbreathed in sum- 
mer rains, 
Foretold the hue of Acta's blushing soil, 
When these, thy sons, should tread her 
lovely plains, 
With fearful onslaught urging dire recoil, 
Till flight and swift pursuit should Acta's 
strength despoil ? 

XI. 

Against her hills the waning battle rolled, 
Through shadowy grove, green glade, and 
dewy strath ; 



ATLANTIS. 49 

And tossing plumes and gleams of ruddy gold, 
And flaunting banners flashed along its 

path. 
The drowsy caverns caught the voice of 
wrath, 
That shrieked from rank to rank, the fierce 
harangue, 
The cheer, the dying wail on fields of scath, 
The din of falling blades, the trumpet-clang, 
That, grandly pealing forth, of certain victory 
sang. 

XII. 

Athena heard and snatched her ancient bow, 
Whose shafts had cleft the round of many 
a shield ; 
Far down the heights of everlasting snow 
The winged steeds her silver chariot 

wheeled. 
Their fleet hoofs struck the gashed and 
bleeding field, — 
O'er all the land celestial splendors ran, — 
"Arouse!" she cried; "your idle javelins 
wield : 
No coward foe shall smiling Neptune scan ! " 
And waved her standard white and led the 
whirling van. 



50 ATLANTIS, 

XIII. 

As when some strong wind smites an ocean's 

verge, 

And buffets back the rage of rising tides, 

And haling swell o'er swell and surge o'er 

surge, 

(Afleck with foam down all their reeking 

sides ;) 
On vaulting waves majestically rides — 
So swept Athena's hosts, their strength un- 
shorn, 
Wild with the call of clarion-sounding 
guides : 
So hurled her foes in headlong flight forlorn, 
Triumphant o'er them rode and laughed their 
power to scorn ! 

4 

XIV. 

So perished all their glory ! in the vales, 
Like new-mown flowers, the fallen heroes 
lay; 
Gules on the breast and down their shining 
mails, 
As each his beauteous being gasped away : 
Nor trampling steed nor legion might affray 
Their dying eyes, slow-turning toward the 
West ; 



ATLANTIS. 51 

Somewhat they seemed to see of isle and bay ; 
Green forest, silvery fount, and sun-bright 
guest, 
Whereat in smiles they sank, with healing slum- 
bers blest. 

xv. 

Not fairer are the lilies ; every brow 
In smooth repose seemed sculptured of the 
snow : 
And many a palm-tree's victor-loving bough 
Thereon did soft and wreathed shadows 

throw. 
Rolled Acta's paeans o'er her fallen foe, 
Yet calm as restful conquerors were these, 
Who, pale and battle-worn, their spoils 
forego, 
Content with silence and with balmy ease, 
Lulled by the rustling winds, and stir of whis- 
pering seas. 



XVI. 

White lip to lip the cavern-spirits sighed — 
" And shall their morning songs resound 
no more, 
Their laughter sweet the mourning zephyrs 
chide, 
When ghostly Evening flits from shore to 
shore ? " 



52 ATLANTIS. 

Each sobbing wave the grievous burden 
bore, — 
" And shall they perish, they who long did 
reign ? 
Shall ocean-kings nor heavenly powers 
restore ? 
Lo ! where Athena triumphs o'er the slain — 
4 Their god shall aid them not — herein his 
might is vain ! ' 

XVII. 

" And hark ! the people answer, — ' Who 

shall save ? 

From Acta's fields up-gather ye the dead ; 

Let proud Atlantis haste to build their grave, 

And weave her linens white to deck their 

bed. 
How is her hope despoiled, her greatness fled, 
Her beauty faded, and her strength waxed old ! 
How are her vessels freighted — in the stead 
Of silks and precious things, and slaves and 
gold ! 
They shall return, nor long their merchandise 
withhold.' " 

XVIII. 

O'er Acta's strand are tidal surges tossed; 
The keel-rent swards each golden frigate 
spurn : 



ATLANTIS. 53 

Woe, woe for those who wait the bannered host, 
And dream of sails and prate of sweet re- 
turn I 
It skills not now that blushing love should 
yearn, 
Or spread the feast, or honeyed nectar pour : 
Full fair in heaven the sunset glories burn, 
Against a scarlet west the white sails soar, 
But from the prow no voice shall hail the rising 
shore. 

XIX. 

Yet happy eyes are watching while the spray, 

Like filmy gossamer wavers in the air ; 
Where drive the ships along their homeward 
way, 
As ever silently to land they fare. 
Jocund are throbbing hearts and debonair 
The rippling laugh, the lightly lifted face : 

What soul the starless night of swift despair, 
Beyond such soft and lustrous eve could 
trace — 
Or, trembling, feel the doom whose terror comes 
apace ? 

xx. 

Idly the fleet lay rocking in the bay — 
None trimmed the mast or furled the silken 
sail ; 



54 ATLANTIS. 

There blazed no sun-lit shield, no gemmed 
array 
Of armed princes, mighty to prevail : 
They slept, who erst made mirthful every 
gale — 
Their death-drawn lids full heavy were with 
rest ! 
Then who for fear and wonder waxed not 
pale, 
Nor shrieked with grief, nor beat the sobbing 
breast ? 
But hate nor weeping love the slumberers might 
molest. 

XXI. 

Alas, the pallid dead ! they mutely slept, 

Forever unaware of foe and friend : 
If roses bloomed, if skies their grandeur kept, 
If whirlwinds made the writhing seas con- 
tend, 
If earthquakes all the panting hills did rend, 
They recked not : Peace, to them, her quiet 
gave, 
Wail, wail, Atlantis ! since if Love must end, 
No bounding heart shall wintry grief out- 
brave : 
When fall the bolts of wrath, no god enthroned 
shall save. 



ATLANTIS. 55 



XXII. 

And soon shall Heaven its fiery vengeance 

wreak ; 

Destruction hastes, and none shall help 

decree, 

Vainly the guilty people, kneeling, shriek — 

Powerless the arm to thwart, the foot to flee. 

O stricken island, dread thy doom shall be ! 

From verge to verge, lo, sudden darkness falls, 

And utter silence, sealing land and sea. 
An awful solitude the soul appalls — 
No night-bewildered bird, or beast, his fellow 
calls. 

XXIII. 

Then through the desert spheres, one, soaring, 
sped, 
Whose far-heard voice of wrath did proph- 
esy : 
" Shall proud Atlantis yet exalt her head, 
Uprear her puny arm, the heavens defy, 
Make mock afar and snatch what gods deny ? 
Behold the veiled stars her judgment wait, 
The unleashed thunders crouch within the 
sky! 
Who shall the rage of whelming tides abate ? 
She shall be fallen, fallen, fallen, who was 
great ! " 



56 ATLANTIS. 

XXIV. 

What dying prayers avail when gods revile ? 
Burst then the terrors of the hour of doom ! 

(Ah, then how shook the river-nurtured isle, 
Through all its dewy vales of summer 

bloom ! 
Hurled o'er its cliffs did briny surges loom, 
Up-gathered from the valleys of the deep ; 
Yawned underneath the hills their welter- 
ing tomb, 
And waves therefrom did cedarn harvests reap ; 
Sank glade and toppling dome, tall palm and 
cloven steep. 

XXV. 

Sank — while on high the sheeted lightnings 
burned, 
And wasting clouds were white with bil- 
lowy fire — 
Arose and sank, as yet the sea-queen yearned 
For empire lost ; with strife of strong desire 
Lifting from midnight gulfs the shattered 
spire, 
The city overthrown, the fallen height ; 

Till all revealed and shamed with ruin dire 
The wrath-doomed realm, slow-sinking, van- 
ished quite, 
With all her pride and pomp, her beauty and 
her might ! 



ATLANTIS. 57 

XXVI. 

Rolled over all the devastating floods : 

No more shall lovers haunt the babbling rills ; 

No more shall Summer dress her golden buds, 

Or wind her misty wreaths among the hills ; 

No more shall breezy night be sweet with 

trills, 

In light, delicious, music-morsels tossed: 

But still the sea-born kings recount their ills, 
Nor evermore their mournful theme exhaust, 
Of all thine ancient worth, thou island loved and 
lost ! 

XXVII. 

By torrid shores they breathe their constant 
plea — 
" Arise, O thou of majesty serene ! 
Break from the prison-chambers of the sea, 
Come forth in all thy jeweled garments 

green ! ■ ■ 
And where, full far, the arctic ships careen, 
Through ice-wrought caves their wailing sor- 
rows swell : 
" Where are thy templed hills, O fallen 
queen ? 
Arise, Atlantis, thou who didst excel ! " 
Light winds their voices waste : — proud isle of 
Eld, farewell. 




EPODE. 



LOVED, my Country ! there was one 
of old, 
Whose chariot o'er the peace- 
charmed surges rode ; 
The morning sun was in his locks of gold, 
And on his cheek rose-ruddy youth abode ; 
His ocean-steed thy sparkling borders trode ; 
The while his voice he reared, and rock 
and lea 
On bruiting winds abroad their echoes 
strowed : 
" Awake," he cried, " O goddess of the Free ! 
Reach forth thy sceptred hand, and rule from 
sea to sea." 

ii. 

Uprose fair Liberty : her stately head 

Enwreathed with snow-excelling fountain- 
flowers, 

That lightly down her savage vesture shed 
In honey-heavy drops their silver showers. 



ATLANTIS. 59 

" My bride," he sang, " the golden land 
be ours ! 
Aflush with fruit its vines shall sunward 
climb : 
Herein shall swift hands build our glitter- 
ing towers, 
Where bards shall chant their heaven-taught 
lore sublime ; 
Nor hand along the wall nor scripture threat 
of Time. 

in. 
" While blissful cycles rise and disappear, 
Shall vaunting Death the beauteous realm 
forego: 
Its stars shall shine though fleet year follow 
year, 
Through bounteous vales its crystal rivers 

flow. 
On all its dazzling mountain-peaks of snow 
Shall blaze the beacons of celestial day ; 
From verge to verge their sun-lit fires 
shall glow, 
Pierce the dun mists and burn the shades 
away : 
Therewith shall field and flood themselves in 
light array." 



60 ATLANTIS. 



IV. 

My Country, thus with Truth and Freedom 
blest, 
Who for thy hurt had dared to barb the 
dart, 
Save that thine arm, far-reaching from the 
West, 
Had plunged the knife in Afric's bleeding 

heart. 
O guilty nation, jeering at the mart 
Where men were scourged, and swarthy 
maidens sold, 
When Vengeance rose what arm his bolts 
could thwart ? 
Unstayed the blood-dyed billows o'er thee 
rolled — 
Down dropped the night of Death ! Ah then 
what heart was bold? 

v. 

While yawned amid the deeps thy weltering 
tomb, 
Lo, yet, thy late repentance winged the 
prayer ; 
Heaven smiling heard, blue skies began to 
bloom, 
Dawn touched thy hills and wrapped thy 
valleys fair ; 



ATLANTIS. 61 

Woke all thy seers, of deepening light 
aware ; 
Swift-falling flames thy crimson altars caught ; 
Day crowned thy Ruler : he who, strong 
to dare, 
Had long with hell-born Slavery, grappling, 
fought, 
And hurled him down the pit, and thy salva- 
tion wrought. 
» 

VI. 

On Freedom's golden threshold mute he stood, 
And bore aloft the star-embroidered sign — 
His drooping brow bedewed with sweat of 
blood, 
His sad eyes steeped in tears of love divine ; 
And sighing yet, " Thy will, O God, not 
mine," 
His clinging crown of thorns half-snatched 
away, 
His wan lips wet with crucifixion-wine — 
He stood — pale herald of millennial day, 
While Judas paused afar and whispered, 
"Slay him — slay!" 

VII. 

O people wailing for the first-born, dead! 
O morn transplendent, quenched in utter 
night ! 



62 ATLANTIS. 

O graves from which the sheeted sleepers 
fled! 
O martyr, heavenward caught from Olive's 

height ! 
Yet in the book shall listening prophets 
write ; 
Yet through the heavens the seven swift 
angels soar ; 
Vials shall yet be given and swords shall 
smite ; 
On sea and land red Wrath his plagues shall 
pour : 
Lo, Babylon the Great shall fall to rise no 
more ! 

VIII. 

Come out of her, my Country — stand afar ! 
To heaven her smoke of torment shall be 
rolled ; 
Her thousand streets shall feel the earth- 
quake's jar ; 
Her strong-built temples crumble, waxing 

old. 
Woe for her fruits, her merchandise un- 
sold, 
Her precious wood, her pearls and linen fine, 
Her slaves and souls of men, her silks and 
gold! 



ATLANTIS. 63 

The kings of earth are drunken with her 
wine : 
Partake not of her sins nor make her judg- 
ments thine. 

IX. 

Come forth ! for thee the golden city waits, 
Within whose guarded wall is found no 
night : 
Of lucid pearl are all its shining gates ; 
Lo, its foundations garnished are and 

bright 
With sardonyx and chalcedony white, 
Topaz and crystal, jasper past compare, 

Sapphire and sardius and chrysolite, 
Jacinth and amethyst and beryl fair : 
Who shall the length and breadth and height 
thereof declare ? 



THE PROPHECY OF THE DEAD. 



APRIL, 1861. 

S the groaning earth stabbed to its core ? 
Are the seas oozing blood in their bed? 
Have all troubles of ages before 
Grown quick in those homes of the dead? 

The red plagues of yore — 
Must they to our season be wed? 




We thought the volcano of War 

Would belch out its flames in the East ; 

We knew where the winds were ajar 
With the quarrel of soldier and priest; 

We shuddered — though far — 
To think how the vultures might feast. 



We said, "We have Liberty's smile: 
Go to ! we are safe in the West ! " 

But the plague-spot was on us the w T hile, 
And the serpent was warm in our breast : 

We can no more revile — 
The ox is for sacrifice dressed. 



THE PROPHECY OF THE DEAD. 65 

Do ye hear, O ye Dead, in your tombs — 
Ye Dead, whose bold blows made us free — 

Do ye hear the reveille of drums ? 
Can ye say what the issue shall be ? 
Past the midnight that comes, 
Is the noon rising up from the sea ? 

Who whispered ? Is life underneath 

Astir in the dust of the brave ? 
For there steals to my ear such a breath 

As can only steal out of the grave : 
" Ye must go down to death: 

Ye have drunk of the blood of the slave." 

We have sinned, we have sinned, O ye Dead ! 

Our fields with the out-crying blood 
Of Abel, our brother, are fed : 

Must we therefore be drowned in the flood ? 
Waits no Ararat's head? 

Is no ark guided there by our God ? 

" Ye must go down to death : have ye heard 
The tale of the writings of yore, — 

How One in the sepulchre stirred, 

And cast off the grave-clothes he wore ? 

In the flesh dwelt the Word — 
Inheriting life evermore. 



66 THE PROPHECY OF THE DEAD. 

" When the foes of the nation have pressed 
To its lips the sponge reeking in gall; 

When the spear has gone into its breast, 
And the skies have been rent by its call ; 

It shall rise from its rest : 
It shall rise and shall rule over all." 




THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER. 

HI WAKE, little daughter, awake ! 

The sad moon is weaving her shroud ; 
p The pale, drooping lily-bells quake; 
The river is sobbing aloud. 

I want your sweet face in my sight, 
While I open my room to the night : 
The torn clouds are flying, the lupine is sigh- 

in g> 

The whip-poor-will wails in affright. 

There 's a shadow just marked on the floor — 

Now soaring and breaking its bond ; 
'T is the woodbine, perhaps, by the door, 
Or the, blooming acacia beyond. 
Oh, pitiful weakness of grief! 
Oh, trouble, of troubles the chief! 
When shades can assail us, and terrors impale us, 
At sight of a quivering leaf. 

I weep, little daughter, I w r eep ; 

But chide me not, love, for I heard, 
Three times in the depth of my sleep, 

The clang of a terrible word. 



68 THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER. 

" Your Harry is dying," it cried ; 
" Is dying" and "dying," it sighed; 
As bells that, in tolling, set echoes to rolling, 
Till fainting sound ebbs like the tide. 

Then the walls of my room fell away ; 

My eye pierced the distance afar, 
Where, by the plowed field of the fray, 
The camp-fire shone out like a star. 
And southward, unhindered, I fled, 
By the instinct of motherhood led ; 
The night-wind was blowing, the red blood was 
flowing, 
And Harry was dying — was dead ! 

I dreamed, little daughter, I dreamed — 

Look ! the window is lit by a face. 
It is not ? Well, how life-like it seemed ! 
Go, draw down the curtains of lace. 
It may be 't was only a flower ; 
For fancy has wonderful power. 
The loud wind is whirring — hark ! something 
is stirring — 
'T is midnight — the clock knells the hour. 



The horseman had ridden all night; 
His garments were spotted with gore ; 



THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER. 69 

His foot crushed the lily-bells white — 
He entered the vine-covered door. 

" Your Harry is dying," he said : 
The mother just lifted her head, 

And answered, unweeping, like one who is sleep- 

" Not dying, good soldier, but dead ! " 




FORT DONELSON. 

FEBRUARY 16, 1862. 

OW what the tide of Right can stay ? 
The Southern demon cowers ; 
Our foes fling down their arms to- 
day- 
Fort Donelson is ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys ! 

Down with the Stars and Bars ! 
Three times three cheers ! — pale Trea- 
son hears, 
And owns the Stripes and Stars ! 

Three days have loyal hearts and true 

Poured out their crimson showers ; 
Oh, never fell such precious dew ! 
Fort Donelson is ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys ! 
Down with the Stars and Bars ! 
Three times three cheers ! — our country 
hears : 
All hail the Stripes and Stars ! 



FORT DONELSON. 71 

Wild ran the fire along our veins, 

To nerve our failing powers ; 
We strewed with death the reeking plains ; 
But — Donelson is ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys ! 

Down with the Stars and Bars ! 
Three times three cheers! till Europe 
hears : 
All hail the Stripes and Stars ! 

The frowning hills above us stood 

Like doorless, granite towers : 
There traitors lurked, athirst for blood ; 
They and the hills are ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys I 

Down with the Stars and Bars ! 
Three times three cheers ! — Creation 
hears : 
All hail the Stripes and Stars ! 

Down on our right their cannon-balls 
Dropped swift as summer showers ; 
On rushed our troops — right through their 
walls ! 
Fort Donelson was ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys ! 
Down with the Stars and Bars ! 



72 FORT DONELSON. 

Three times three cheers ! — high Heav- 
en hears : 
All hail the Stripes and Stars ! 

Yes, Heaven and we have won the day — 

The Southern demon cowers ; 
Now what the tide of Right can stay ? 
Fort Donelson is ours ! 

Up with the Federal flag, my boys ! 

Down with the Stars and Bars ! 
Three times three cheers ! — three times 
three cheers ! 
G-od save the Stripes and Stars/ 




THE BATTLE OF GAINES' HILL. 

JUNE 27, 1862. 

INSCRIBED TO THE GALLANT PENNSYLVANIA RESERVES. 

[HE battle's last, long thunders rolled ; 
The witness-cloud to heaven was 
swept ; 
And night, the ghostly seer and old, 

Around our blood-drenched borders crept : 
Upon our arms we slept. 

We slept : but night, that ancient seer, 
Conned o'er us his prophetic lore ; 

And whispered low in many an ear, 
44 Thou art, but thou shalt be no more 
When next the cannons roar." 

Sleep, that should lift the rugged cross 
From staggering souls, but deepened pain, 

With conscious sense of coming loss, 
That like a wind preceding rain 

Blew cold across the brain. 



74 THE BATTLE OF GAINES 9 HILL. 

But ah, the rain to come ! No noise 
Within our guarded limits ran ; 

But heavy hands shook slumber's poise, 
And wearily, in rear and van, 
Our dark retreat began. 

The stars, with crimson torches, sought 
Their darkened pathways through the 
skies, 
When woke our challenge-guns, and brought 
From wary foemen's batteries 

The boom of quick replies ; 

As if fresh slaughter to prelude : 

The while — by stratagem discreet — 

Receding, pausing, scarce pursued, 
With no disorder of defeat, 

So moved our slow retreat. 

But when the sun his sword unsheathed, 
And smote us sore, at bay we stood — 

To God, the Just, our lives bequeathed; 
Planted our guns by vale and wood, 
To wait the rain of blood. 

It came ! Full soon the war-fiend came — 

Stern as hell's king, and fiery -browed ! 
We saw him smite, with hand of flame, 



THE BATTLE OF GAINES* HILL. 75 

The solemn battle-harp and proud, 

Where rose the sulphurous cloud. 

Behind our potent guns we stood — 

Therefrom the awful war-bolts flew ; 
Bomb following bomb, full many a rood 
They plowed the smoking woodlands 
through, 

And what beside — God knew. 

We waited till the hour approved, 
To hurl our forces undismayed, 

Where Death in all his grandeur moved ; 
God's cause and Liberty's to aid 
By bayonet, ball, or blade. 

There, fires that leap when patriots fall, 
All startling sights that cowards shun ; 

All sounds that hurtle and appall — 
The bursting shell, the roaring gun — 
O'er all, the seething sun ! 

Full closely swarmed the traitor horde; 

Across the hill their bullets sang ; 
Along our yielding van they poured — 

Their shouts like peals of victory rang — 
Then, at the word, we sprang. 



76 THE BATTLE OF GAINES* HILL. 

Sweeping into the front we came ; 

Awhile along the hill-side bent, 
Charged through the deep ravine, to claim 

Its walls, for none but heroes meant — 
God with us, as we went. 

Then did War's crashing music roll ! 

Then did the fire of battle-wrath 
Rush hot through every loyal soul ; 

And where we swept, o'er all the path, 
Was agony and scath. 

The leaden hail smote left and right ; 

The air was like a furnace red ; 
The sky was dizzy with the sight ; 

The sun was reeling overhead : 

You could not count our dead. 

We saw their broken columns swerve ; 

They shook and faltered at the test ; 
New vigor shot through every nerve, 

And hand to hand and breast to breast, 
The glorious charge we pressed. 

We drove them from the gory banks — 

Through forest-aisles their courses urged; 
By field and wood their eddying ranks, 



THE BATTLE OF GAINES HILL. 77 

Like storm-tossed billows backward surged, 
Bv Northern valor scourged. 



The battle's last, long thunders rolled ; 

And down the vaulted skies, once more, 
Came night, the ghostly seer and old, 

To read fulfillment of his lore, 

In streams of stiffening gore. 

And we, with weak and gasping breath, 
With hearts that bled for comrades slain, 

Reeled, shuddering, from the hill of death, 
And laid us down to sleep again, 
The soldier's sleep of pain. 

But every step upon the ground, 
And every whisper stealing near, 

Smote us anew with crashing sound, 
As if the cannons rent the ear, 

So loud the dead might hear. 

The stars their darkest pathways trod, 
When we once more, with staggering feet, 

Low whispering to ourselves and God, 
" Only the sleep of death is sweet ! " 
Began our long retreat. 



RICHMOND. 

JULY, 1862. 

%sjm RICHMOND, the summer that shines 



on thy towers 
Will tremble and shudder and turn 
from her flowers, 
Will creep over fields where our strong armies 

paused, 
And die at the sight of the blood thou hast 
caused. 

Thou city of slaves, 
For thee and thy sins earth is teeming with 
graves. 

For thee and thy dark sins, O Richmond, be- 
ware, 

Lest the dread wings of Pestilence move in the 
air; 

Lest Famine thy strength and thy loveliness 
blight ; 

Lest the arm of Jehovah be lifted to smite : 
For never before 

Such fair vines of promise such bitter fruit bore ! 



RICHMOND. 79 

Death, death on the plains, in the vales, by 

the wave ; 
Death, ghastly and stiff without coffin or grave ; 
Death clutching the bayonet — grasping the 

gun — 
And the heat of God's anger ablaze in the sun ! 

O Richmond, beware ! 
They die who the wrath of Omnipotence dare. 

But the white dove of mercy above thee still 

flies, 
And the rain of fire dashes not down the veiled 

skies : 
'Tis the lull, the long pause ere the vial is 

poured, 
And the plagues are let loose that run after 

the sword. 

Midway the bolt stays: 
Love waits for repentance, and Justice delays. 

Sink down in the dust; own thy sins of the 

past; 
Let the bondman go free in thy borders at last ; 
While the hill-sides resound with thy suppliant 

Peradventure the Lord God will hear and reply: 

If his grace thou deride 
His arm will be lifted — then woe to thy pride ! 



80 RICHMOND. 

For a voice from the " temple of Heaven " will 
call, — 

* It is done ! it is done ! " and the judgment 
will fall; 

And " voices and thunders " around thee will 
blend, 

The fire will consume and the earthquake will 
rend: 

In the hurricane's path — 

Thou shalt drink of the " wine of the fierce- 
ness of wrath ! " 

And lo! at thy gates there will fall a "great 

hail ; " 
Thy men will blaspheme and thy women bewail ; 
For the plague thereof great and exceeding will 

be: 
But thy bondmen, O Richmond, shall rise and 

go free ; 

And voices will cry, — 
" The i beast, scarlet-colored,' behold it must 

die ! " 




THE SOLDIER'S BRIDE. 

[T last the dread cloud that hung over 
the gorges 
Has sailed to the west and extinguished 
the sun ; 
At last, mid the mountains, war's thunderbolt- 
forges 
Have ceased their loud labor ; all fighting is 
done. 

M My dearest, shrink not ! " murmured he, when 
we parted, 
"But pray that Jehovah our freemen may 
shield ; 
And if I should perish, be not heavy-hearted." 
In haste, then, he kissed me and sped to the 
field. 

So I have been calm, never weeping nor sigh- 

in g> 
While, yonder, my love rode in martial array ; 
The battle-tide breasting, or wounded, or dying ; 
With cheers sweeping on, or borne down in 

the fray. 



82 THE SOLDIER'S BRIDE. 

Till noontide those grand, rhythmic thunders 
resounding, 
Aroused into courage my patriot-zeal: 
But then my quick pulse ceased at once from 
its bounding ; 
Pain entered my breast like the piercing of 
steel. 

This is not the time for weak wailing and sob- 
bing ; 
My heart must be patient though riven in 
twain. 
This tent — how its quietness sets my veins 
throbbing ! 
This ghastly white moon — how it maddens 
my brain ! 

"Go not," so they said, "lest his courage should 
falter ; 
Stay under the fig-tree and nourish the vine ; 
His hearthstone keep bright, feed the fire on 
home's altar" — 
But what with ? my heart, love, torn bleeding 
from thine ? 

Ah well ! let them chide ! I have freely resigned 
thee ; 
Believing thee worthy those fathers of ours. 



THE SOLDIER'S BRIDE. 83 

But how could I suffer Death's herald to find 
thee, 
Alone, unconsoled, and I — tending my 
flowers ! 

How hushed is the camp-ground ! the moonlight 
is waxing 
More cruelly white and more deathly serene ; 
From far comes the cry of the whip-poor-will, 
taxing 
The sense with a dulcitude, fearfully keen. 

In the shadow anear me the sentinel paces; 
The lightning-rent oak looms, in silence, 
above ; 
Wherever I turn gleam prophetic, wan faces ; 
That Banshee — or bird — chants the death-, 
song of love. 

Hist ! the guard, at my right, stands to challenge 
the straying 
That hasten with tidings concerning the strife ; 
They whisper ! God ! what are they saying ? 
" Since noon he is missing — small chance of 
his life. 

" They saw him, when on to the charge he was 
rushing : 
With valor superb he led forward his men ; 



84 THE SOLDIERS BRIDE. 

The sods where they swept red as roses are 
blushing — 
Their dead, all unburied, are strewing the 
glen." 

TJteir dead — but not mine ! for the death-blow, 
recoiling, 
Had spared not my life had my lover been 
killed : 
My spirit, with his, waits the final despoiling — 
The cup, being broken, — is not the wine 
spilled ? 

He lives ! on the cold clod he waits my ap- 
pearing, 
Ere love's golden glory can suffer eclipse ; 
He yearns for my smile, death's last agony 
cheering ; 
The clasp of my hand, and the touch of my 
lips. 

Lead thou the way, friend, for the sake of the 
dying. 
Now blest be the moon for its shining to- 
night ! 

Low down in the glen where my darling is 

¥ n g> 
How long ere I found him, except for its 
light ! 



THE SOLDIERS BRIDE. 85 

Move faster ! what ! think you I shudder or 
tremble ? 
Not so ! by the strength of my love I am led. 
Press on — through the plains where the living 
assemble ; 
Press on — through the passes where slumber 
the dead. 

And now T , beyond all, where the sods blush the 
brightest, 
(His valor exceeding all valor, to prove,) 
Where moonlight's white tissue is blanched to 
its whitest, 
Lo, tranquilly slumbering, here is my love ! 

Awaken ! O waken ! at last I have found thee, 
Dear, never again from thee, never to part ! 

Awaken ! O waken ! my arms are around thee, 
My cheek on thy cheek, and my heart on 
thy heart. 

Deep peace on thy brow, like God's blessing, 
reposes ; 
With joy thy pulse fails, weakly striving to 
beat; 
Oh, the patriots' death-couch is softer than 
roses ! 
'T is certain thy dreams have been heavenly 
sweet. 



86 THE SOLDIERS BRIDE. 

Yet waken ; my presence is better than 
dreaming : 
The sweetest completion of rapture it brings ; 
And ah, with new glory thy pale brow is gleam- 
ing— 
Thy glad spirit hears me, just poising its 
wings ! 

Thine eye, with its lustre of love, is upon me — 
Oh, never the sun with such affluence shone ! 

From the clasp of Death's merciless arms I have 
won thee : 
I know thee forever — forever mine own. 

For grief struck me cold ere thy fate had been 
told me ; 
My soul caught the news, and made ready 
for flight ; 
Now tenderly kiss me, love, sweetly infold me : 
Heaven dawns with to-morrow — Good-night 
and good-night! 




THE NIGHT-BATTLE UNDER LOOK- 
OUT MOUNTAIN. 

OCTOBER 28, 29, 1863. 

|&E silent, lute, long used at need, what 
time the heart seemed breaking ; 
And thou, my Numbering sylvan reed, 
forego thy wild awaking. 
Such deeds have filled Columbian crypts, that, 

meet applause to grant them, 
We want the trumpet at the lips and Gabriel's 
voice to chant them. 

And yet so high through songful speech God's 

diapason rises, 
Not even Gabriel's voice the reach of every 

stave comprises ; 
And we, who swell the lowest key, — albeit 

none revere us, — 
Shall soar and sing till land and sea, aye, all 

their dead shall hear us ! 

Then wake from slumber, lute and reed ! let no 
bravuras falter : 



88 THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 

Oh, not to drown your moans who bleed, self- 
cast on Freedom's altar ! 

But when the shock and roar of War roll out- 
ward and diminish, 

'T is meet that sylvan notes afar the lessening 
echoes finish. 



When Hooker led his valiant men o'er rude 
and devious courses, 

And northward turning, in the glen, encamped 
their weary forces, 

The wary Rebel host, thereby, in upland haunts 
abiding, 

All wolfishly did prowl and pry, from patriot- 
vengeance hiding. 

No time did faithful soldiers waste, no chance 
they craved to dally, 

But pitched the tent with cheery haste and 
fortified the valley ; 

Until the bleeding sun at eve sunk like a war- 
rior wounded, 

His mountain-lair dared Longstreet leave ? — 
no answering cannon sounded. 

But midnight poised her silver scale, with moon 
and planet freighted, 



THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 89 

And suddenly the rising gale another tale related : 
Swift battle- winds smote all the pines ; through 

branch and root they tingled, 
And down the length of martial lines a thou- 
sand volleys mingled. 

On came the traitors in their might ; their mus- 
kets crashed before us; 

Their batteries smoked along the height, their 
shells did riot o'er us : 

To break our lines and beat us back, or slaugh- 
ter where they found us, — 

Oh, all the wolves were on our track ! we heard 
them howl around us. 

Down into Geary's camp they pressed, and three 

to one assailed him ; 
Uprose his veterans from their rest, and not a 

warrior failed him ; 
But one to three they stood, to dare and face 

the direst sequel : 
Nay ! three to three — since Freedom there and 

God made numbers equal ! 

Now Hooker at the fearful noise of onset and 

resistance, 
Cried " Forward, double-quick, my boys, dash 

on to their assistance ! " 



90 THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 

And into line fell Howard's corps; no storm- 
lashed waves of ocean 

E'er leaped from shoal to beach with more pre- 
cipitance of motion. 

The regal hills had drawn aside their purple 

shades intrusive ; 
The dew-sown vales lay glorified with starry 

gleams illusive ; 
The air was opulent with light, dissolving and 

refining — 
Was ever road to fame so bright ? to Death so 

fair and shining ? 

Their startled pulses rush like rills when rains 

have made them greater ! 
They surge, they pour between the hills, like 

lava from the crater. 
Now they whose whip's chivalric lash made 

woman's shrieks implore them, 
Shall learn how freemen's weapons flash when 

tyrants stand before them. 

Huzza ! they sweep through rocky glades in 

serried order steady ! 
Their strong hands grasp their hilted blades, 

their hearts are blithe and ready: 



TEE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 91 

Ah ! all at once throughout their flank the 

powers of Hades enter ; 
And One of awful name and rank, unseen, is 

in their centre ! 

Beneath yon mountain foliage dark, strange odors 
cling and stifle, 

And countless jets of scarlet mark the pits for 
man and rifle ; 

While such a rushing, fateful breath has blown 
through wood and hollow, 

That but the fleet, frore wings of Death in track- 
less speed can follow. 

" Go, take the ridge," our generals cry, " and 
safer passage warrant ! " 

Our columns rive in prompt reply like inter- 
cepted torrent ; 

Those frontward, Victory's wreath to snatch 
from brows of Freedom's haters ; 

These upward, loyal blades to match with blades 
of lurking traitors. 

And nimbly to the charge they leap, with gal- 
lant Smith to lead them ; 

The pathless ridge is dark and steep — its tan- 
gled boughs impede them. 



92 THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 

The wind, half conscious, through the pines some 

wailful strain is humming — 
Where lurks the foe ? his ambushed lines in 

silence wait their coming. 

But now, the keen-edged lighting darts athwart 
confronting trenches ; 

But now, resounding thunder starts, the brood- 
ing cloud it wrenches ; 

Hate bursts in yells (so over-bold, they hint of 
Terror stronger : ) 

As if hell's gates had failed to hold its grappling 
demons longer. 

Thousands, intrenched, are on the height, our 
clambering hundreds meeting, 

With bolt on bolt to crush and blight (the South- 
ron's brother-greeting : ) 

Such harvests of our men they reap, dismay — 
defeat are wrought them ! 

Nay ! — but they rally ! up they sweep as if a 
whirlwind caught them ! 

Up, reckless of the rifle's scope, from base to 

brow they speed them : 
Nor clinging brambles of the slope, nor fallen 

trunks impede them ; 



THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 93 

Nor brutal Hatred's tig'rish yell, nor clouds that 

choke and blind them ; 
Nor breastworks lined with fires of hell, nor 

fiends that crouch behind them. 

And lo you ! where our little band the parapet 
encumbers, 

Assaulting madly hand to hand the foe's quad- 
rupled numbers ! 

With whirring balls and cleaving blows, our 
glorious soldiers wound them ; 

In headlong, driving strife they close ; they har- 
ass, they astound them. 

Never such wild hurras before from distance 

pealed to distance ! 
From rifle-pits the lurkers pour in terrified de- 

sistance. 
Down the rough steep they leap, they creep, as 

murderers dumb they hide them, 
And like avenging spirits sweep our men behind 

— beside them. 

The ridge is ours ! but battle-gales are loudly 

hurtling yonder: 
Dash on, brave victors, down the dales ! stay not 

to rest or ponder! 



94 THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 

Ten thousand Rebels, left and right, there closer, 
closer plant them ; 

But Geary's ranks are grand in fight, and How- 
ard's — who shall daunt them? 

Press on, press on, rebellious horde ! meet death 

and dark disasters ! 
The drops that stain a Northman's sword free 

slaves from scourging masters. 
Press on, press on! bring all your guns — load 

well and aim discreetly : 
Yet know One sides with Freedom's sons whose 

judgments follow fleetly. 

Line crowding line, rank urging rank, steel 

pressed to hearts unshielded : 
An instant's hush from flank to flank — and 

God his bolt has wielded ! 
A subtle thrill, a blanching dread — skies bowed, 

earth quaking under — 
And all the traitorous files are shred, are rent, 

are hewn asunder ! 

Ah, Longstreet left his lair at night, no servile 

cohorts lacking ; 
But by their gore his backward flight the scout, 

at morn, was tracking. 






THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 95 

While Northern hands were digging graves to 

hide his fallen numbers, 
Their widows weep — though not their slaves: 

God grant them peaceful slumbers ! 



Be silent, echoing sylvan reed ! for Death's wild 

bell is knelling, 
And hearts of mourners break and bleed in many 

a loyal dwelling : 
But when War's dread apocalypse has hushed 

its sevenfold thunder, 
Such light will flood Columbia's crypts that 

Gabriel's self must wonder. 




THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION. 

JANUARY 1, 1864. 

JAW ye, when Azrael's sword of might 
had touched the Old Year's heart, 
Heaven's guarded gates at noon of night 
in silent glory part ? 
Heard ye the angel's challenge ring from starry 

heights sublime ? 
u What ho ! thy finished records bring, thou 
who art done with Time ! " 

Then rose the sovereign from his bier, pale as 
the glaciers are 

That on their mountain-levels hear the voice of 
God afar : 

With brow serene and eye that braved the sky's 
supernal light, 

His cloud-dividing wings he waved, in far, ma- 
jestic flight. 

" Hast thou no joyful news, O Year ? " cried 

that celestial voice : 
" No word, that rolled from sphere to sphere, 

shall bid the heavens rejoice ? 



THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION. 97 

No lance has bleeding Freedom hurled — her 

life-long war to close? 
Has Power yet leave to walk the w T orld and 

rend each wayside rose ? " 

" I stood on proud Columbia's strand — where 

Night her stars had left — 
And near and far I saw the land incarnadined 

and cleft : 
There ghoulish War's insatiate fire his feast of 

horror signed, 
And swept its forked flames ever higher the 

heavenward gaze to blind. 

44 The nation's brimmed communion-cup had 

spilled its holy wine ; 
The slave his sad eyes lifted up, still gyved at 

Belial's shrine ; 
Pale under Treason's upas-shade, Truth, worn 

and fainting, lay; 
And Europe paused, with half-drawn blade, as 

one who pants to slay. 

" I saw, and thrilled the Ruler's heart — I 
nerved the Ruler's hand; 

And lo ! he rent the gyves apart, on fair Co- 
lumbia's strand ! 

7 



98 THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION. 

4 Henceforth, forever be ye free ! ' (but 

God had spoken first,) 
And from the gulf to either sea, so died the 

thing accursed ! 

44 New vigor shot • through Freedom's veins : 

revived she trod the world ; 
Full far o'er Southern battle-plains her shining 

lance she hurled: 
Now shrinks the deadly upas-shade — its dews 

of poison cease ; 
And Europe sheathes her thirsty blade and 

smiles a treacherous peace ! 

" Now quails Rebellion's vaunted host : — with 

sudden terror pressed, 
From sea and gulf and river-coast they flee and 

find no rest : 
What god shall bid them rally back, Truth's 

awful front to dare ? 
For Belial's shrines their victims lack ; he sleeps, 

nor answers prayer." 

44 Aye, wide ye pearl-wrought shafts be riven ! " 

sang that seraphic voice ; 
44 For never news more worthy Heaven made 

listening spheres rejoice. 



THE YEAR OF EMANCIPATION. 99 

Let hallelujahs roll afar ! — when God the work 

has done, 
And smiled thereon, how fair a star shall bloom 

beside the sun ! " 



Saw ye, when surged along the land the orient 

flood of day, 
The New Year on Atlantic's strand his silvery 

wings delay ? 
Some effluent song harp-sweet and clear stole 

down the depth profound, 
" Lo ! God hath sent thee, beauteous Year ! go, 

heal Columbia's wound ! " 




APRIL DAYS. 

OME through mist and dashing rain, 
April days, April days ; 
( Break the last light crystal chain, 
Teach the snowbird livelier lays, 
Deck with verdure wood and plain, 
April days, April days. 

Years are long — the years are three, 

April days, April days, 
Since my love went forth from me ; 

Craving neither gold nor praise, 
But free scope for valor free, 

April days, April days. 

Sun-bright flags for marshaled men, 

April days, April days, 
Flung ye out o'er hill and glen ; 

All your winds sang battle-lays; 
Southward soared your eagles then, 

April days, April days. 



APRIL DAYS. 101 

Flaunt your sun-bright flags once more, 

April days, April days; 
For the ship is near the shore, 

And he comes whom all must praise : 
Northward doth my eagle soar, 
April days, April days. 

Gayly shine, oh, brightly shine, 

April days, April days ! 
Wounded in the vanward line, 

Victor of a hundred frays, 
Welcome home this love of mine, 

April days, April days ! 




SHINE, SUN OF THE SUMMER. 

JUNE, 1864. 

JHINE, sun of the summer ; bloom, roses 
of June ! 
Bring joy to the senses and health to 
the brain : 
Our ears ache with cries from each Southern 
lagoon, 
Our hearts ache with news from the fields of 
the slain — 

Bring us balm for the pain. 

Shine, sun of the summer ; blow, wind of the 
west, 
And hurl these black battle-clouds back to 
the wave, 
Where, with seals of destruction on forehead 
and breast, 
(The scourge of our nation, the shame of the 
brave,) 

Charleston cowers by her grave. 



SHINE, SUN OF THE SUMMER. 103 

Shine, sun of the summer ; smite, sword of the 
free ! 
Smite well, till the coiled serpent, shuddering, 
dies ; 
Till war heaves no more the deep breast of 
the sea, 
And the white rose of peace o'er our land 
shall arise, 
*, Wooing dew from the skies. 

Shine, sun of the summer ; on, flag of our trust, 

Wherever the fell flames of Treason have 

crossed ! 

Till earth hides with grass faces falling to dust, 

And we — weep our lives out in w T oe for the 

cost, 

As we number our lost. 

Shine, sun of the summer ; bloom, roses of June ; 
Blow, soft wind, and heal the hot fevers of 
hate ; 
Rise, rivers, and circle each Southern lagoon, 
Till lilies are throned on your waters, in state, 
Where blood ran, of late. 

Shine, sun of the summer ; sink, dews of the air ! 
Our wounded hearts ache for the hour of 
repose : 



104 SHINE, SUN OF THE SUMMER. 

But the God of the nation has answered our 
prayer, 
And the serpent lies dying, just under the 
rose — 

This is balm for our woes. 




IN " FOREST LAWN." 

PORTER JONES, 2d N. Y. M. R., DIED OCTOBER 14, 1864, AGED 
18 YEARS. 

[H my brother ! 
Thou, of old so merry-hearted, 
Wont our saddest hours to cheer — 
Thine abundant life departed — 
Thou must slumber here. 

Ah my brother, 
From the grave where first they bore thee, 

When thy youthful lips were dumb, 
With the bugles grieving o'er thee 
And the burial drum ; — 

Ah my brother, 
Thence at last with sobs we bring thee, 

All thy soldier-work is done : 
Here the long farewell we sing thee — 

Thou hast fought — and won ! 

Ah my brother ! 
At thy games, the loud reveille 



106 IN " FOREST LA WN." 

Startling, roused thy spirit proud. 
Thine no holiday regalia : 

Battle-garb — and shroud. 

Ah my brother, 
Vain are all our broken phrases ; 

Down the cliffs of farthest time, 
Shall for such roll hymns of praises, 

Surge-like and sublime ! 

Ah my brother, 
Thou, the loving boy and loyal, 

From thy laughing life of late, 
Hast arisen, more than royal, 

Throned in grander state. 

Ah my brother, 
Through the sable years before us, 

Heir of Heaven, thy soul of light 
Shall, like Hesper burning o'er us, 

Kindle all our night. 

Ah my brother — 
But alas ! alas ! to lose thee ! 

Ne'er to wake thee out of sleep ! 
Theme for praise let others choose thee ■ 
We must weep — must weep ! 




THE YEAR OF VICTORIES. 

JANUARY 1, 1865. 

?ALE-BROWED and breathless, flung 
in haste on Night's black shallop, lies 
the Year : 
And rushing sails across the waste of Death's 

deep sullen tides we hear ; 
Oh, yet our mournful plea we urge — " Return ! 

return ! for thou wert brave ; 
And while we trod War's roaring surge, wert 
swift to reach and strong to save!" 

Far, far he floats whose glories grew more 
bright with every hour that passed, — 

Who loaded all the winds that blew with his 
triumphal bugle-blast ; 

But while his dirge in solemn flow goes wail- 
ing through our troubled reeds, 

Break from the breathings of its woe and voice 
the grandeur of his deeds. 



108 THE YEAR OF VICTORIES. 

He rent resisting traitor-hosts, and filled with 

righteous spoil our hands ; 
He smote their cannon-guarded coasts ; he rode 

victorious through their lands ; 
Our flag he flung from tower and mast .o'er 

many a conquered fort and mere ; 
Beneath the yawning seas he cast full many a 

prowling privateer. 

He touched the bondman, burden-bowed, long 

taught the gory lash to dread — 
Straight rose a soldier, free and proud — oh 

then it was the master bled ! 
He swept the harp of freemen's souls, till all 

its rising murmurings 
Rolled forth in thunder from the polls, and shook 

the very thrones of kings ! 

From torrid plains to northern snows his 

rhythmic praise of heroes rang, 
Till swift, impetuous boyhood rose, and rushed 

to dare the deeds he sang ; 
And ah, in lines of vivid light that gild our 

grand Columbian lore, 
What deathless names we saw him write beside 

the deathless names of yore ! 

Farewell, farewell, O passing Year ! thy wingM 
bark shall stay its flight 



THE YEAR OF VICTORIES. 109 

Beside that shore whose crystal pier with all 

the angelhood is bright; 
There they whose peace no tears may move, 

whose smiles no more our eyes behold, 
To hear thy story of our love lean silent on 

their harps of gold. 

Farewell, farewell ! o'er tidal seas the shim- 
mering light begins to creep, 

And fleetly, in the laughing breeze yon white- 
sailed shallop rides the deep ; 

Lo ! godlike on the silver prow he stands, the 
New Year — pure of wrong : 

Fair shines the olive on his brow ; his smiling 
lips overflow with song. 

O loyal souls, in reverence kneel and hail the 

savior of the land ! 
Swift rolls the tide — the cleaving keel is swept 

in music up the strand. 
Fling from your hearts their loads of fear ; for 

by this beauteous dawn we know, 
Around the footsteps of the Year, full soon the 

crescive day will flow. 

Then shall fair Freedom's temple rise — from 

sea to sea our land invest ! 
Its flashing dome shall climb the skies, and 

there the rolling stars arrest ; 



110 THE YEAR OF VICTORIES. 

'Neath its broad door shall nations throng, and 
low their golden tributes pour ; 

There God's Republic, saved and strong, shall 
wisely rule for evermore. 




A EEBEL FLAG OF TRUCE. 

|ET us bury our dead: 
Since we may not of vantage 
or victory prate ; 
And our army, so grand in the onslaught of late, 
All crippled has shrunk to its trenches instead, — 
For the carnage was great: 
Let us bury our dead. 

" Let us bury our dead. 
Oh, we thought to surprise you, as, panting and 

flushed, 
From our works to assault you we valiantly 

rushed : 
But you fought like the gods — till we faltered 
and fled, 

And the earth, how it blushed! 
Let us bury our dead." 

So we bury our dead — 
From the field; from the range and the crash 
of the gun ; 



112 A REBEL FLAG OF TRUCE. 

From the kisses of love ; from the face of the 

sun ! 
Oh, the silence they keep while we dig their 
last bed ! 

Lay them in, one by one : 
So we bury our dead. 

Fast we bury our dead : 
All too scanty the time, let us work as we may, 
For the foe burns for strife and our ranks are 

at bay: 
O'er the graves we are digging what legions 
will tread — 

Swift, and eager to slay, 
Though we bury our dead. 

See, we bury our dead ! 
Oh they fought as the young and the dauntless 

will fight, 
Who fancy their war is a war for the right ! 
Right or wrong, it was precious — this blood 
they have shed: 

Surely God will requite, 
And we bury our dead. 

Yes, we bury our dead. 
If they erred as they fought, will He charge 
them with blame, 



A REBEL FLAG OF TRUCE. 113 

When their hearts beat aright, and the truth was 
their aim? 

Nay, never in vain has such offering bled — 
North or South, 't is the same — 
Fast we bury our dead. 

Thus we bury our dead. 
Oh, ye men of the North, with your banner 

that waves 
Far and wide o'er our Southland, made rugged 

with graves, 
Are ye verily right, that so well ye have sped ? 
Were we wronging our slaves? 
Well — we bury our dead! 

Ah, we bury our dead! 
And granting you all you have claimed on the 

whole — 
Are we spoiled of our birthright and stricken 

in soul, 
To be spurned at Heaven's court when its 
records are read? 

Nay, expound not the scroll 
Till we bury our dead! 

Haste and bury our dead ! 
No time for revolving of right and of wrong ; 
8 



114 A REBEL FLAG OF TRUCE. 

We must venture our souls with the rest of the 

throng ; 
And our God must be Judge, as he sits over- 
head, 

Of the weak and the strong, 
While we bury our dead. 

Now peace to our dead : 
Fair grow the sweet blossoms of spring where 

they lie : 
Hark ! the musketry roars, and the rifles 

reply ; 
Oh the fight will be close and the carnage be 
dread — 

To the ranks let us hie, 
We have buried our dead. 




FORT SUMTER. 

§H, the flag is afloat over Sumter at last, — 
Hurra ! * 

From his refuge the serpent of Treason 
is cast — 
Hurra ! 
Blow strong, O ye breezes, blow steady and 

bold, 
Till we see our dear flag, without wrinkle or 

fold, 
Fly abroad o'er the heights of the Rebel strong- 
hold. 

Hurra ! hurra ! and hurra ! 
It shall float till the last bolt of vengeance has 
rolled, 

And then — float forever, hurra ! 

'T is the fort where our Anderson toiled at the 
guns, — 
Hurra ! 
Where the South learned to blush for her 
traitorous sons, — 
Hurra ! 



116 FORT SUMTER. 

The sky was all crimson with flames of affray, 
And crimson beneath were the waves of the bay, 
Ere the banner came down that is floating to- 
day, 

Hurra ! hurra ! and hurra ! 
It shall float till these bomb-torn embrasures 
decay, 

And still float forever, hurra ! 

Oh, we made the air mad with the rushing 
of balls, — 
Hurra ! 
With the shrieking of shells and the crashing 
of walls, — 
Hurra ! 
Till its thunders were dumb and its cannons 

o'erthrown, 
And the foe fled at last from the ramparts of 

stone ; 
It was this way our flag was restored to its 
own, 

Hurra ! hurra ! and hurra ! 
It shall float till the last king is dead on his 
throne, 

And still float forever, hurra ! 

Then resound, ye glad guns, over billow and 
strand, — 
Hurra ! 



FORT SUMTER. 117 

Let the noise of rejoicing be loud in the land, — 

Hurra ! 
For Washington's spirit rejoices on high 
O'er Sumter the flag of his love to descry ; 
It shall float till the bed of the ocean is dry, 

Hurra ! hurra ! and hurra ! 
It shall float till the last trumpet sounds in the 
sky, 

And then — float in glory ! hurra ! 




THE SOUTH WIND. 

|H, the light south wind ! 
Jg It brought us the odor of 
orange bowers, 
Of citron-trees, and of all rare flowers, 
As we sat by our doors in summery hours; 
Did the light south wind. 

Oh, the sweet south wind ! 

It brought us the oriole's love-breathing note ; 

The paroquet's praise of his pretty green coat ; 

The carols that gush from the mocking-bird's 

throat ; 

Did the sweet south wind. 

Oh, the loud south wind ! 
It brought the rude song and the African's jest ; 
It brought us (oh, shame !) his deep sighs of 

unrest, 
When the foot of his master bore hard on his 
breast ; 

Did the loud south wind. 



THE SOUTH WIND. 119 

Oh, the wild south wind ! 
It brought us the murmurs of bitterness first; 
Then threats of the traitor (forever accursed ;) 
And the hum of a tempest just ready to burst ; 

Did the wild south wind. 

Oh, the mad south wind ! 
It brought us the surge of the battle mael- 
strom ; 
The cracking of rifles, the cannons' deep boom ; 
The crashing of mortars, the thunders of doom ; 
Did the mad south wind. 

Oh, the sad south wind! 
It told us anew the dark story of Cain ; 
Rehearsing, to grieve us, again and again, 
The groans of the dying, the dirge for the slain ; 

Did the sad south wind. 

Oh, the glad south wind ! 
It brings the sweet bugle-note, piercing and 

strong, 
Proclaiming the triumph of Right over Wrong ; 
And we lift up our voices to join in the song 

Of the glad south wind. 




THRENODY. 

IN MEMORY OF CAPT. JOHN W. FALCONER, 41ST REGT. U. 8. C. 
T., WHO FELL AT APPOMATTOX, APRIL 8, 1865. 

I. 

\ READ night of war, ah fade and 
fleet ! 
With those thy lurid phantoms fade ; 
Leave thou no shadow at our feet, 
But such as erst the lilies made. 
No longer pour on wave and shore 

Thy vial-drops of Plague and Pain ; 
Let Peace her stainless dews restore, 

And breathe her balms o'er dale and plain. 

ii. 
Alas ! but if the lilies blow, 

Fast crowding through each clasping sheath, 
They needs must gather all their snow, 

From out the wintry graves beneath ! 
Or if the silver rains abound, 

Or pure with balm be Summer's breath, 
Dews will but damp the funeral mound, 

And every wind will sing of death ! 



THRENODY. 121 



in. 
O ardent soul that loved the Right — 

Most nuble youth who grasped the brand, 
When Freedom, from her towers of light, 

Called tar a::a near. •• Come, save the land! " 
Friend, brother — in the rush and roar 

We stand together on the shore. 

And all our hearts cry out for thee ! 

IT. 

Oh lost ! no more when feasts invite, 

And airs gr :h ;es: and song, 

When Sorrow, ghost-like, nits from sight, 

Wilt thou the cheery laugh prolong: 
For thee shall roses bloom no more. 

Nor rivers roll, nor fountains play : 
Nor sunsets blush, nor swift winds soar, 

Nor white moons charm the night away. 

v. 

And yet arise the glowing morns ; 

The starry evenings yet return ; 
Still Love her golden shrine adorns. 

And bids the costly spices burn ; 
But if some far land stays the sea. 

If tides that sink will surely swell, 



122 THRENODY. 

If costlier spices burn for thee, 

Oh, who the precious news will tell ? 

VI. 

What stream our valley-shades will cleave, 

Crystal with leaping mountain-rills, 
Some verdant laurel-shred to leave, 

And prove thee dweller on the hills ? 
What bird her snowy wing will launch, 

O'er floods where suns may never shine, 
To bring the little, flowering branch, 

And prove the whole sweet summer thine? 

VII. 

Howbeit for these we vainly yearn, 

What song nor cymbal may recite, 
Nor eager eye and ear discern, 

Our vibrant hearts will learn aright ; 
And sinking into sunless sleep, 

The glad refrain will murmur o'er, — 
"Now drift us on, dark-rolling deep, 

A friend will meet us on the shore ! " 

VIII. 

Phantoms of war, ah fade and fleet ! 

The lilies lift their chaliced snow ; 
Soft are the dews, the balms are sweet; 

Some breath of heaven begins to blow, 



THRENODY. 123 

And far and near the voice we hear 
Of Freedom chanting o'er her slain, — 

" The night is past, the dawn is clear ; 
O Sleepers pale, arise and reign ! " 




A BALLAD OF THE SOUTH AND NORTH. 

H, once the Southron's talk was bold: 
He vaunted oft his fair estate, 
His faithful slaves, his mansion old, 
His heart that burned for love or hate. 
"But spare our rights," the North replied,' 

" With equal worth ye have to deal." 
" Up ! fire the Southern heart ! " he cried, 
" We '11 teach these Yankees how to kneel ! 
The Southern heart begins to beat : 
We '11 drop the whip, we '11 grasp the 
steel : 
We '11 take no rest till 'neath our feet 
These coward Yankees kneel ! " 

Then brought he forth his stolen guns, 

With boastful speech and daring oath : 
He laughed to scorn our brawny sons — 

" So prone to toil, to fight so loath ! " 
Our Northmen laid their tools aside, 

And listened — listened all alert : 
" Come on, oh if ye dare ! " he cried, 

" But know our blades are sure to hurt ! 



A BALLAD OF SOUTH AND NORTH. 125 

The Southern heart begins to burn ; 

Our lordly nature we '11 assert : 
Come, Yankees, one and all, but learn 

Our blades are sure to hurt ! " 

O braggart Southron, wail the day 

When Treason thus in arms did start : 
For flames that roared o'er Charleston Bay, 
Swept on and fired — the Northern heart ! 
Then flashed the sun on serried steel ; 

Then Northern words were proud to hear : 
" Who dares to bid our Freemen kneel, 
Shall meet a foe who cannot fear ! " 

The Northern heart began to beat; 

The Northern voice rang far and clear : 
" Who bids our Freemen kneel, shall 
meet 
A foe who cannot fear ! " 

On marched our glorious Yankee lads, 

Our craft the rolling billow cleft ; 
Loud crashed the grand columbiads, 

The rifles rattled right and left. 
The slave went free ; the fair estate 

In gore was drenched, with fire was girt; 
The vanquished Southron learned too late 

That Yankee blades were sure to hurt. 



126 A BALLAD OF SOUTH AND NORTH. 

The Northern heart with courage 
burned ; 
Our equal rights we dared assert : 
Too late the vanquished Southron 
learned 
Our blades were sure to hurt! 




THE REALM OF THE WEST. 

'AVE ye heard of the beautiful Realm 
of the West, 
Encircled by oceans and kissed by the 
sun ? 
Have ye heard of the nations that thrive on her 
breast, 
Bright heirs of her grandeur, the " Many in 
One ? " 
Kings cannot govern this land of our 
choice : 
Liberty loves us, and Peace is our guest : 
Shout for the Union with heart and with 
voice — 
God is our King in this Realm of the 
• West ! 

Have ye heard of the wonderful conflict of old ? 
The lion was torn by the bird of the sun : 
Through the world was the fame of our Wash- 
ington rolled, 
And Heaven sealed to Freedom the " Many 
in One ! " 
Kings cannot govern, etc. 



128 THE REALM OF THE WEST. 

Have ye heard of our armies, so valiant and 
true ? 
The flag of the serpent did writhe in the sun ; 
But they marched to the field with the "Red, 
White, and Blue," 
And saved from the traitor our " Many in 
One." 
Kings cannot govern, etc. 

'Tis the psalm of the Free that is borne on the 
breeze : 
It leaps from the heart of each patriot son, 
While the full, surging chorus is sung by the 
seas, — 
" Forever and ever — the ' Many in 
One ! ' " 
Kings cannot "govern this land of our 
choice : 
Liberty loves us, and Peace is our guest : 
Shout for the Union with heart and with 
voice — 
God is our King in this Realm of the 
West ! 




THE YEAR OF PEACE. 

January 1st, 1866. 

•AKE room in heaven, ye starry choirs, 
that loud your lofty anthems sing! 
Here 's one whose voice shall drown 
your lyres, and make the sky-built arches 
ring: 
While fleet as light he soars aloft, with milk- 
white hand his harp he beats — 
And hark! the midnight echo soft, some faint, 
far- wandering strain repeats ! — 

" Cleft is the steel-wrought helm of Guilt, and 
shattered is the brazen shield; 

His sword lies broken at the hilt ; prone sleeps 
the giant on the field ; 

No more those bolts of battle smite, that, on- 
ward crashing, shook the world; 

And from the battlements of Right are all its 
mad assailants hurled. 

" Columbia lives ! the mighty deeps whose purple 
waves against her bore, 
9 



130 THE YEAR OF PEACE, 

Roll back down Time's unsounded steeps, and, 
darkly sinking, swell no more. 

Columbia lives ! behold her rise, with glistening 
raiment pure as snow ! 

Her star of morning mounts the skies — she 
sees the crimson glories grow. 

" Enrapt, with heavenward gaze she stands 

— God's oriflamme above her flung — 
With Victory's roses in her hands, and songs 

of triumph on her tongue. 
The sapphire doors half open sway, where all 

her martyrs passed from view, — 
Reluctant yet to darken day nor let such kingly 

warriors through. 

" From mountain range to mountain range a 

proud prophetic voice is rolled : — 
6 Though empires fall, though oceans change, 

still shall Columbia wax not old ! 
Ere Time her throne shall overthrow, or aught 

its broad foundations rock, 
The crescent moon shall cease to grow, the 

sun to lead his starry flock ! ' : 

Make room, make room, ye sun-bright choirs — 
swell the loud anthem of the Year ! 

Strike well your glad concordant lyres ; the sky's 
reverberant arches hear! 



THE YEAR OE PEACE. 131 

But bark ! ere yet the echo fails that soft tout 

midnight strain repeats. 
Pale Sorrow in her cavern wails, and wild her 

solemn har: :... 

;i ye who strove when close and fast "War's 

flaming arrows hissed afar. 
And where god Slavery rode, were cast to death, 

beneath its gory car ; 
And thou great Chief, who. sure of God. within 

the fiery furnace thrown. 
Like those c: oh! sev.vrl nor walked the 

burning ; n'e : 

14 Bay-crowned, the golden hills ye climb, and 
holy hosts your ranks surround: 

They lead your skyward march sublime, ~~ 
all heavevh :e;._i:v : vivo- s:u:::i : 

The stars may linger in their spheres, the suns 
may falter as they whirl, 

Ye still will count your blissful years, — like sil- 
ver shining flowers unfurl. 

i% But year on year shall roll away ; v 

ms blush or fade the leaves. 
Ye shall not throi rys stray, nor bind 

a^ain our rustling sheaves. 



132 THE YEAR OF PEACE. 

Ah people, rear your shafts of pride, loud hymns 

and endless praises pour — 
Their countless graves ye may not hide, and 

Love sits weeping evermore ! " 

Peace, peace, ye midnight harpers wild ! ye hills 

your echoing sighs refrain ! 
All cherub-fair yon rosy child, star-heralded, 

comes down to reign, 
From heaven a voice the silence rends — while 

crowned and sceptred on he moves — 
u Columbians, lo ! the fire descends, and God 

your holocaust approves ! " 




THE SOLILOQUY OF LIBERTY. 

NATION of my hope, 
Prove true, I said : 
The lines of thy horoscope 
My Chaldean lore hath read: 
And far through the night burns an arc of 
light, 
Where the prophet-star hath sped: 
Prove true, I said. 

By God's most sacred hand, 

(Prove true, I said:) 
Into a bountiful land 

Thine infant steps were led ; 
And the flower and the vine gave honey and 
wine, 
Whereby thy life was fed: 
Prove true, I said. 

Hurt by the wrath of kings, 

(Prove true, I said : ) 
Thou, under the eagle's wings, 

Didst shelter thy drooping head, 



134 THE SOLILOQUY OF LIBERTY. 

While the rain of thy wound did cover the 
ground, 
Of lucid dew, in the stead : 
Prove true, I said. 

To the holy truth of God, 

Prove true, I said : 
Though struck by his chastening rod, 

Or tried in the furnace dread, 
Or chained, death-cold, to the rocks of old, 

Where vulture flocks were fed, — 

Prove true, I said. 

O people of my love, 

Be free, I said : 
Till all the fires above 

From the altars of heaven are fled ; 
Till its halls of light have sevenfold ipight, ov 

And the spheres are dumb with dread, — 

Be free, I said. 

On Afric's golden strand, 

(Be free, I said :) 
The wild wind gave command, 

And the ships before it fled, — 
Till the Southern wine of this people of mine 

With Afric's blood was red : 

Be free, I said. 



THE SOLILOQUY OF LIBERTY. 135 

Ah, then fierce madness came ; 

(Be free, I said ! ) 
The air was hot with flame, 

The rivers below ran red ; 
For the guns did roar from shore to shore, 

And the heart of the nation bled : 

Be free, I said. 

Down fell the slaver's whip, 

(Be free, I said ! ) 
And clanking chains did slip 

From limbs that shook with dread ; 
While the burning breath of that wind of death, 

At the smile of Jehovah, fled : 

Be free, I said. 

Then all the people bowed ; 

(Be free, I said : ) 
For the bolt that hissed in the cloud 

From God's right hand had sped ; 
But heaven grew bright with sevenfold light, 

For the sake of the royal dead : 

Be free, I said. 

O nation of my hope, 

Live long ! I said ; 
With the lines of thy horoscope 

A threefold splendor is wed ; 



136 THE SOLILOQUY OF LIBERTY. 

For thy stars with the moon, and the sun at 
noon, 
On golden wings have sped : 
Live long, I said. 

Live till the seas go dry, — 

Live long, I said ; 
Till the sluices of the sky 

Their last, wild rains have shed; 
Till the roses pale, and the seasons fail, 

And mountains bury the dead : 

Live long ! I said. 

Thou nation of my heart, 

Live long ! I said : 
Live till the stars depart, 

By the wan moon death ward led; 
Till the sun drops down like a shattered crown 

From an old king's dying head : 

Live long ! I said. 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 




THE VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST. 

IN the midst of the desert, companion 
was none : 
My bed was the sand, and my pillow a 
stone ; 
With my face to the East sought I slumber 

and rest, 
While Osiris entered the house of the West. 

I feared not the power of the spirits that slay, 
For I wore the white robe of the priesthood 

of day ; 
But the whirring of arrows I heard from afar, 
Where Chamsin the Southwind made ready 

for war. 

By the fount where the gods wont to lave did 

I lie: 
It had shrunk to its caverns ; its channels were 

dry; 
And I saw, in the dim skies, the Scorpion glare, 
As the chariot of Night swept the zone of the 

air. 



140 VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST. 

Then a shape from the earth rose, and darkened 

and grew ; 
With wings like the wings of a dragon it flew ; 
The far constellations did tremble and reel : 
Then knew I the Vexer of Heaven, Adbeel. 

I rose — I, the mortal — confronting the Shade ; 
Nor quailed in his pathway, nor cried out for 

aid : 
Heaven was not, earth was not, time was not, 

nor light ; 
But only Adbeel and my soul and the night. 

His wild eyes I saw — eyes that never might 

sleep — 
Now lurid and baleful, now darkened and deep ; 
His breath scorched the air like the wind of 

the East, 
And the censer he bore, and the rod of the priest. 

In silence most awful we stood soul to soul, 
And a great cloud of incense around us did roll ; 
The smoke of the incense did bend overhead, 
Like Buthos, the Black- winged, that broods o'er 
the dead. 

"And thou art the Servant of Typhon," I 
thought. 



VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST 141 

"Is great Demiurgos then Ruler for nought? 
Has Neith torn the veil from her virginal breast? 
Is Osiris bound in the house of the West ? " 

The eye of the Vexer did lighten and gleam, 
While, always, that smoke from the censer did 

stream ; 
And lo, on its front, flames of scarlet did write, 
" Great Typhon is Ruler — the god of the night. 

" And thou art his servant : forever to dwell 
By Ameles, the fountain and river of hell. 
The robe of thine office strip from thee in dread, 
For Osiris enters the house of the dead." 

"I pay thee no homage, thou priest of the cloud, 
Though Isis go mourning, and Ammon be 

bowed : 
Not Typhon is Ruler, while, daring his might, 
One soul wears the robe of the priesthood of 

light." 

But symbols of fire ran anew on the scroll — 
" Thou art sealed for the death : who shall 

rescue thy soul? 
For the signs of the zodiac tremble and reel 
At the power of the Vexer of Heaven, Adbeel." 



M2 VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST. 

" Go, seal thou the stars in the zone of the sky ; 
Drag them down to the pit, from their houses 

on high ; 
At the feet of dark Typhon forever to roll : 
But who, who shall darken the star of the soul ? " 

More lurid and awful, quick flames pierced the 

cloud, 
" At the feet of great Typhon lies Neith in 

her shroud ; 
Demiurgos is fallen, Amenthe is won ; 
Then where is thy savior, thou priest of the 

sun?" 

" Though the gods are asleep in the house of 

the dead, 
Behold ! I, the mortal, am god in their stead ! 
And thou in my presence shalt tremble and reel, 
Like the far constellations, thou Vexer, Ad- 

beel ! " 

Then white was that cloud w T ith the heat of 

his ire ; 
He moved on, majestic, all shrouded in fire ; 
With the rod of his priesthood uplifted, he 

strode ; 
He called forth his slaves from their secret abode. 



VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST. 143 

They heard — they came forth, at his mandate, 

in haste : 
Uprose, in their pathways, the sands of the 

waste ; 
Their chariots, bird-drawn, through the desert 

were driven ; 
And w T ings shook the air, like the thunders of 

heaven. 

Their arrows, like scorpions, hissed in my ears ; 
I was deaf with the clang and the whir of their 

spears : 
But I wore the white robe of the priesthood of 

day — 
They cowered at my feet, they fled, shrieking, 

away. 

Adbeel was alone, with the heat of his wrath : 
He smote with the rod, he divided the path ; 
The torn breast of earth gasped in audible 

breath, 
Like the groaning of gods at the portals of Death. 

From the chasm underneath gushed forth lava, 

like blood ; 
Beside me, around, ran the fire of the flood ; 
Overhead was the blaze of the pendulous cloud ; 
Before, stood that servant of Typhon the Proud. 



144 VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST. 

I lifted the rod of my priesthood on high — 
The smoke of the incense went out of the sky : 
I touched the hot sand — it was healed of its 

scars ; 
For the earth knew Aseneth, the priest of the 

stars ! 

He saw : in deep silence we stood for a space ; 
His breath, like the breeze of hell, blew in my 

face ; 
His eyes, within mine, did concentre and steep ; 
They were subtle as Death, — as the pit they 

were deep. 

In the strength of my godhood confronting the 

Shade, 
I shook not, I quailed not, I shrieked not for 

aid ; 
My eyes, within his, did not waver nor veer : 
He trembled, he reeled, he was smitten with 

fear. 

He fled from before me — his pinions were 

fleet! 
Lo, the fount of the gods sprang anew at my 

feet; 
From the altar of Ammon, all stainless and 

white, 
Came that mystical dove, the restorer of light. 



VISION OF THE EGYPTIAN PRIEST 145 

And the lotus-flower out of the fountain was 

born, — 
Its azure and silver were fair as the morn : 
Thereon, softly cradled, lay Horus the Wise — 
Avenger of Osiris, Child of the skies. 

I looked to the East — there had risen a star ; 

I saw the fair gates of Amenthe unbar ; 

I beheld (yet I lived) through the veil of their 

shrine, 
Demiurgos and Neith — One and ever Divine. 

Their love did constrain me — it drew me 

above, 
Through the gates of Amenthe, drawn on by 

their love : 
There, prostrate, adoring the Centre of Day, 
I was numbered with gods — I was holy as 

thev. 

10 




DAY AND NIGHT. 

NE eve my Margery and I 

Sat watching — blissfully alone — 
The splendor creeping down the sky, 
The darkness climbing to its throne. 

The sun was somewhere in the West ; 

We knew it by the jets of light 
That leaped against the evening's breast ; 

But he was sunken out of sight. 

And as we marked the gleams that gave 
To twilight transient hues of dawn, 

The Night, that painter pale and grave, 
Brushed out the lines that Day had drawn. 

On lake and landscape, cloud and sky, 
With violet shades blurred all the parts, 

Until we felt — my love and I — 
An evening in our very hearts. 

And so I said — her hand in mine, 
Her head against my shoulder laid — 



DAY AND NIGHT. 147 

" Wise Nature oft inscribes some sign, 
Which, to interpret, makes afraid. 

" While sunlight, Margery, always fair, 
Is symbol sweet of what thou art; 

This hour, that darkens all the air, 
Portrays my own sad counterpart. 

" Day dies with the approach of night : 
Thus do I read the fateful sign ; 

Thy life, with its transcendant light, 
Will perish if 'tis linked with mine." 

Straightway she answered, while a glance 
Of lustrous meaning lit her eye : 

" The shades of life its lights enhance, 
And I, for love of thee, would die ! 

" Yet day dies not, but being drawn 
Beyond itself (so love is given) 

Makes for the night a silver dawn, 

And gains — a twilight glimpse of heaven." 




MORTA. 

ITHER some conquering magnet brings 
My soul, from shadowed haunts of 
Time : 

Up through an empty space I climb — 
I soar, and yet I wear no wings. 

I pause, yet feel no earth beneath ; 

I see nor sun nor moon nor star; 

I hear no murmurous seas afar ; 
I breathe no zephyr's perfumed breath. 

Yet now a humming in my ears, — 

A woful, wailing, wild refrain ; 

As if the Night, aware of wane, 
Lamenting, woke the silent spheres. 

And lo ! a radiance intense 

Spreads far and wide ; so very white, 

It seems the spirit of a light 
Divorced by spirit-law from sense. 



MORTA. 149 

By spirit-law is given to me 
The excellence of spirit-sight : 
Ensphered by this undazzling light, 

A silent, smileless group I see. 

Two w T hite-garbed spinners at a wheel 
Whence constant, mad complainings flow; 
And One, whose task I may not know, 

Nor its significance unseal. 

An ebon crown, of regal mold, 
Circles the grandeur of her head; 
The whiteness of her robe is dread ; 

And she is wan and very old. 

No w r ind is in her silver hair; 

No breath from her pale mouth exhales : 
Yet, toward me, while she slowly sails, 

My soul her answering speech will dare. 

O woman of the shrouded eye, 
Of frigid mien and ashen brow, 
Speak : wherefore, whence, and who art 
thou? 

Resolve this threefold mystery. 

44 By this calm brow — most dreary calm ! 
By this white cheek — most deathfy white ! 



150 MORTA. 

By this closed eye that knows no sight, 
Sister, thou readest all I am. 

" From Time's dark fleece grave Nona's hand 
Draws out the slender thread of life ; 
Whirling the humming wheel of strife, 

Decima winds the tortured strand. 

" But I am Morta, — she who rends, 
With instant touch its length in twain; 
And there is no more bliss nor pain 

Forever, when the spinning ends. 

44 Who hears my solemn words, must rise 
And follow, follow where I lead: 
A captive, never to be freed, 

With voiceless throat and sightless eyes." 

And art thou Morta? O most rare, 
Most piercing melody of voice ! 
As if the heart had sung, " Rejoice ! " 

Even while the lips had wailed " Despair!" 

Nona, arise ; put by the fleece, — 
Life fails with torture overmuch; 
Stay, Decima, thy guiding touch, 

And let the troublous spinning cease : 



MORTA. 151 

Morta, I hear — I follow thee ; 
I hold thee by thy robe of snow : 
Yet go where thou canst never go, 

And see what thou canst never see. 

A fleece of shining white unrolled ; 
A wheel whose turning has no end 5 
A joined thread thou canst not rend, 

And One the gleaming strand doth hold. 

Softly the singing wheel revolves; 
Softly my heart sings evermore : 
While, learned in Life's seraphic lore, 

Death's threefold mystery it solves. 




DO WE LOVE AS WE LOVED LONG AGO? 

i. 

IT was once, long ago, on the dawn- 
lighted river, 
Our fairy canoe rode like foam down 
the tide ; 
White lilies afloat with the ripples did quiver, 
But fairer than they was the girl at my side. 
Now dost thou remember — ah dost thou 
remember 
The garland I wove for that forehead of 
snow ? 
Forget the dead leaves of Life's frosty 
December, 
And say, do we love as we loved long 
>? 



ii. 

The robin with song the glad morning was 
greeting ; 
No mist rolled above the young sun to eclipse ; 

"I love thee, I love thee," my heart kept re- 
peating, 



DO WE LOVE AS WE LOVED LONG AGO? 153 

Till Love throbbed its way from my heart to 
my lips. 
Now dost thou remember — ah dost thou 
remember 
The blushes that mantled that forehead 
of snow ? 
Forget the dark days of our frosty Decem- 
ber, 
And say, do we love as we loved long 
ago ? 

in. 
Oh loud trilled the robin ! oh bright was the 
river ! 
The white lilies danced on its ripples in glee : 
'Neath thy low-drooping lids though the tear- 
drops did quiver, 
A smile, like the sunrise, flashed answer to 
me. 
Now dost thou remember — ah dost thou 
remember 
The kisses that fell on that forehead of 
snow ? 
Forget the cold winds of our frosty Decem- 
ber, 
And say, do we love as we loved long 
ago ? 



154 DO WE LOVE AS WE LOVED LONG AGO? 

IV. 

'T was long, long ago : all the sunbeams are 
dying ; 
Our roses have lost their red leaves in the 
blast. 
But still thy sweet smile to my heart is replying, 
" We love as we loved in the days that are 
past." 
Thou still dost remember — yes, proudly 
remember 
The veil of the bride on that forehead 
of snow ! 
'T will crown thee where Life has no frosty 
December : 
We always shall love as we loved long 
ago ! 




SHIPWRECKED. 

I. 

►E two waited on the deck — 
All around us rolled the sea ; 
Helpless, on our reeling wreck, 
Silent, wan, and worn were we. 
Where the little boat went down, 

Where the sun had plunged from sight, 
Hope and light alike did drown — 
O'er us, dark as Fate, was night. 
Face to face we stood alone, 

Dreary, still, and sad were we ; 
Smitten by that wild cyclone, 
All around us beat the sea, 
Rose the sea, rushed the sea, 
Roared the wrathful sea ! 

ii. 
Cloudy shapes like hooded ghouls, 

Flitted past our shuddering prow ; 
Death was reaching for our souls, 

Chill his breath upon the brow : 



1 5 6 SHIP WRECKED. 

Then, oh then were we aware, 

Through all war below, above, 
Of a face sublimely fair — 

Was it Death unveiled, or Love ? 
Heart to heart we stood alone, 

Smiling and serene were we ; 
Tortured by that wild cyclone, 
All around us strove the sea, 
Wailed the sea, mourned the sea, 
Sobbed the toiling sea. 

in. 
While we watched, a seething tide 
O'er our sinking vessel crossed ; 
Out among the waters wide, 

Smiling still, we two were tossed ; 
Tossed and drifted, overcome 

In a crowd of surges dread, 
Bruised and beaten, blind and dumb, 
So we sank among the dead. 

O my love, and mine alone, 

Sweet it w T as to die with thee ! 
Far beneath that dread cyclone, 
All around us rocked the sea, 
Crept the sea, sank the sea, 
Slept the silent sea. 



SHIPWRECKED. 157 

IV. 

Through our slumber sweet and deep, 

Stole the growing light of dawn ; 
Heart and brain its warmth did steep, 
Out of death our souls were drawn. 
So we breathed, awoke, arose, — 
Heart to heart and lip to lip ; 
Where Love's golden ocean flows, 
Ever sails our snowy ship. 

Never sun so softly shone ; 

Fair, in saintly robes are we ! 
O'er us shrieks no mad cyclone, 

All around us sings the sea, 
Gleams the sea, glides the sea, 
Laughs the lovely sea! 




HEKTHA. 

WITHIN my room, by heat oppressed, 
(All morning shades being vanished 
quite,) 

I loitered long — a favorite guest, 
Right free to idle as I might ; 
Yet fretted sadly, void of rest, 

And in no thought could take delight. 

" Obscure thy sun, fair August day ! " 
My peevish lips did sighing plead ; 

" Drop down the shining, silvery way, 
Yon far-draw r n mists from rivers freed ; 

Nor let the tawny eve delay — 

Thou givest warmth beyond the need." 

My tempted soul took up the thought : 
" On some thy heart is greatly bent, 

Who cold and scant returns have brought, 
And thou withal hast been content ; 

Perchance they sigh — ' O warmth unsought ! 
We would this noon of love were spent ! ' 



HERTHA. 159 

The birdling, happy in his cage, 

Trilled like Venetian boatman's flute ; 

Nor could the golden creature gauge 
His tireless voice my mood to suit ; 

" Sweet song," I cried, " but it were sage 
If now and then the bird were mute ! " 

" Aye ! " said my soul, " and do thou note 
The same, lest thy beloved sneer, 

' Sweet may thy song be, but by rote 
We have its round of carols clear: 

It were but wise to rest the throat, 
And trouble less the sated ear.' " 

But white-browed Hertha, gentle child, 
Thereat came near, and, pleading, said, 

" I know where waters undefiled 
Are over rocks and rushes shed ; 

And softest mosses near them piled, 
Make dewy cushions for the head. 

" Dear lady, through so green a nook 
Your city pathways never strayed ; 

Then come ! " so urged, her hand I took, 
And walked beside the little maid, 

Through odorous clover, to the brook 
That did its flowery bank abrade. 



160 HERTHA. 

swift and pure ! half bright, half dark, 
It trailed the supple willow bough; 

Thence rose the grateful meadow-lark, 
Singing as but the lark knows how : 

1 looked therein, and blushed to mark 
The fretful line across my brow. 

" My loving Hertha," then I sighed, 
" I am ashamed of grief to-day ! 

Be thou my mentor as my guide ; 

Thy mood I '11 mirror, grave or gay." 

She pondered, laughed, and she replied, 
" Then half yourself you '11 throw away ! " 

" Even so," quoth I, and laughed as well ; 

Meanwhile the brooklet at our feet 
Had plunged into a cooling dell, 

And under talking trees did beat : 
Howbeit, though they had news to tell, 

Their speech to us was obsolete. 

Despite the roughness of the way, 

With childish glee we wandered down ; 

The scented brier would lean and sway, 
And lightly pluck us by the gown ; 

Our steps did many a bird affray, 
Our laughter many a warble drown. 



BERTHA. 161 

" Full densely here the boughs o'erlace, 

Now let us rest," I often said ; 
" Here, Hertha, is the loveliest place," — 

And, " Here are cushions for the head." 
She only turned a willful face, 

And I, obedient, still was led. 

But now a beech had turned the tide 

Through spicewood bowers where followed 
w r e; 

It spread its silken meshes wide, 

And down a chasm went floating free. 

Oh never veil of princess-bride 

In broidery half so rich could be ! 

There we on couches green did sink : 
No burning sun might rest deny ; 

But like a bird that chose to drink, 
One flake of light was flitting by, 

And all the bubbles on the brink 
Therewith did rainbows multiply. 

Then, after rest and reverie long, 
(For w 7 ho could idly prattle there ? ) 

I spake and did the sweetness wrong, — 
" Dear Hertha, life is full of care ; 

And we, who are not wise and strong, 
Have more of grief than heart can bear. 
11 



162 BERTH A. 

" But if we love — are loved in turn — 
How light becomes the largest weight! 

Now tell me, for I fain would learn, 
How shall we find such gentle fate? 

Alas ! for love too many yearn, 
And all their days go desolate ! " 

No straight reply the maiden chose, 
But mused : " I saw a worm to-day 

That slept and fed upon a rose, 

Till something prompted it to stray; 

Slow creeping thence, it lost repose, 

And piercing thorns were in the way ! " 

Her thought I seized: God's love being ours, 

Still on a fadeless rose we feed ! 
"We bask in light, we bathe in showers ; 

No softer couch our spirits need. 
Thence creeping — ah we find no flowers ! 

But thorns are sharp and hearts must bleed. 

Within my arms the child I drew; 

She kissed away my bursting tears; 
"O Rose," I cried, "yet fair and new, 

Though left for thorns these many years! 
My heart receives thy falling dew, 

My climbing soul thy beauty nears ! " 




THE BALLAD OF ETHEL LEE. 

I. 

! AIR Ethel, the hill-side is cold, 

The pathway is rugged and bleak ; 
The whirling snows whiten thy 
cheek ; 
The north wind is ruthless and bold ; 

Hear the firs, how they shudder and shriek ! 
There is nought for a maiden to seek — 
Not a blossom would dare to unfold ! 
Lovely Ethel, return 
To thy place by the hearth, where the scarlet 
flowers brighten and burn ! " 

n. 

" Oh barren and bleak is the hill ! 

Oh cruel and cold is the wind ! 

But the souls I am leaving behind 
Are colder, less merciful still! 

They have thrust me out rude and un- 
kind; 

Far I seek and no shelter I find ; 



164 THE BALLAD OF ETHEL LEE. 

Through my heart, through my heart creeps 
the chill ! 

But I will not return ! 
Not for me on their hearth shall the scarlet 
flowers blossom and burn ! " 

in. 
" Now, why have they thrust thee away, 
This death of the outcast to dree ? " 
" For the troth thou hast plighted to me, 
Thy mother did spurn me to-day. 

4 He shall wed not the servant,' said she : 
' Shall not stoop from his noble degree ! ' 
Ride thou on to thy castle, and say 
That I scorn to return 
To the hearth of the proud, though the scarlet 
flowers blossom and burn ! " 

IV. 

Oh wroth was Laird William that hour! 
And he sware, " Ere the daylight hath fled, 
The son of her house thou shalt wed ! 
The bells shall peal out in yon tower ; 
The glad feast of our bridal be spread ; 
And thy truth and thy beauty," he said, 
" Shall be counted rich treasure and dower ! 
And none shall dare spurn 
My bride from the hearth where the scarlet 
flowers blossom and burn." 



THE BALLAD OF ETHEL LEE. 165 

V. 
How vain is thy scorn, Ethel Lee ! 

He has snatched thee from sorrow and 

death ; 
Thy pale cheek is warm with his breath ; 
His steed gallops fleetly and free. 

" Ho ! my mother, make ready ! " he saith ; 
So a merry, brave wedding he hath ! 
All the bells laugh aloud in their glee 
At sweet Ethel's return ; 
And she smiles by the hearth where the scarlet 
flowers blossom and burn ! 




THE EVENING STAR. 

EAN from the lattice, lady bright; 
Trifle no more with the pensive guitar ; 
For the sun in an ebbing ocean of light 
Is anchored, to wait for the evening star. 

And yonder the palace-windows blaze: 

Such radiant gold from the west they win, 

That you say, in a sort of pretty amaze, 
" Surely, there must be a sun within ! 

Over your head a rose-vine clings, 
Deftly the long stems climb and lace ; 

And a full, red bud in the west wind swings, 
Brushing the rose of your beautiful face. 

Lean from the lattice, lady sweet ; 

The wind is blowing the bud apart ; 
And one is coming adown the street, 

To open to you his princely heart. 

But your lips are touched by a scornful smile : 
" What is he, but a boy?" you say; 



THE EVENING STAR. 167 

"If I bent to him for a little while, 
It was only the whim of a lady gay." 

Trifle again with the vibrant guitar : 

But the boy you scorn has reached your side, 

And, looking away at the evening star, 

You drop for a moment your sceptre of pride. 

The star is leaning out of the skies, 

To hearken to passionate words and low : 

"I love" — and "I love," your heart replies, 
Whether your lips assent or no. 

What if you turn his fear to joy ? 

Yield him the heart he dares implore? 
Lean on the swelling breast of the boy, 
• And love him and love him for evermore? 

Your cheeks are hot, O lady proud ! 

They prate of the pained heart's rapid throes ; 
But over the star there sweeps a cloud, 

And you — are crushing the half-blown rose. 

Fine is the pride of the steady eye, 

Of the curving lip, and the stately head ; 

Measured and clear, with never a sigh, 
Are the words of the cruel falsehood said. 



168 THE EVENING STAR. 

Now close the shutters and light the lamp ; 

Recklessly toy with the merry guitar: 
The wind of the west is cool and damp, 

And — what care you for the evening star ? 

And yet — and yet, O lady fair, 
If yonder palace you think to win, 

With its windows blazing with gold, beware 
How you fancy there is a sun within ! 

Else, pierced by a life-long pain, I ween, 
Robbed of all love-light, cheated of joy, 

Even you, lady, will pine to lean 

On the noble, burning heart of a boy. 




MY GLADE IN THE WEST. 

DROP the drained pen ere the song is 
complete, 
And sighing for solitude, silence, and 
rest, 
I mind me, with sighs, of a tranquil retreat, — 
A glade far removed, in the wilds of the 
West. 

Sleep, world-weary senses ! afflict me no more ; 

Too long has my soul by your fetters been 

weighed ; 

Like the freed dove, unhooded, I flutter, I soar, 

My wings gather strength for their flight to 

my glade. 

On I speed to the West : O ye forests of mine, 
I enter your soft summer-twilight of rest ; 

Dumb with rapturous freedom, I sink, I recline 
On the dew-nurtured mosses, your lover and 
guest. 



170 MY GLADE IN THE WEST. 

The drooping beech-branches sweep low at my 
feet; 
The trefoil spreads o'er me her tremulous 
screen ; 
The tubes of the partridge-vine lowly and sweet, 
Are rosily flushing their tendrils of green. 

The fair uniflora, in infantile white ; 

Lies crouched 'neath the royal-fern's plumiest 
crest ; 
We are buried in greenery, deep out of sight, — 
This flower and my soul, — in the wilds of the 
West. 

While the thrush — ah the thrush ! if the flow- 
er of the rose 
Spell-changed into music from vision should 
fade, 
All her bountiful being, her raptures, her woes, 
Would pour through the song of this bird of 
the glade. 

Cease, minstrel of love ! lift thy wings and 
depart ; 
Let the low, liquid cadences falter and close ; 
For their sadness and sweetness are brimming 
my heart ; 
I am filled with the soul of the flower of the 
rose. 



MY GLADE IN THE WEST. 171 

It is I who arise from the grave of the mold, — 

'Tis I whom the wind and the rain have 

made strong; 

'T is the bud of my heart that begins to unfold, — 

'Tis the flower of my being resolved into 

song. 

Fly on, changeling throstle, the spell is complete : 

Faint echoes, like fragrance, float far in the 

glade ; 

And oh, if the voice of my soul were as sweet, 

From the sun and the dew it were heaven 

to fade ! 

In holy content to lie yielding the ghost, 
Mid silence and solitude shadowed and gray ; 

While the rose of existence, in melody lost, 
Would, fold after fold, vanish lightly away! 

Hark ! the pines are alert ! from the South they 
have caught 
A rustling, a surging, a soft rolling sound; 
Now comes the wind! tearing the meshes of 
thought, 
And waking my soul from its quiet profound. 

Approaching, delaying, on-rushing with speed, 
This secret, seraphic repose to invade, 



172 MY GLADE IN THE WEST. 

With music of organ, harp, timbrel, and reed, 
It sweeps through the grand gothic arch of 
my glade. 

The wind — oh the wind ! far above me it rolls ; 

The trefoil rocks not, leaning over my breast ; 
It breaks on the pines, like the sea among shoals, 

They burst into song, they are tortured from 
rest. 

Haste, wild winds of Poesy, hitherward roll! 
Let me die not this soft-breathing death of 
repose ; 
Though I break in the blast, grant me music 
of soul, 
For the torn pine grows nearer to heaven 
than the rose. 

Wake, world-weary senses ; fair visions, depart ; 

Green forest nor glade to the minstrel belong ; 
And a rapturous anthem is brimming my 
heart — 

I suffer, I strive, I am vibrant with song! 



DEATH IN THE FOREST. 

^ejg&jDDIE had folded his dimpled hands, 

t^jjlpSf (Never so quiet heretofore ! ) 

^^* Shadows were dark through forest-lands, 

Birds went mourning about the door: 
But Eddie was still — ah stillness dread, 

Through which the rustle of boughs they 
heard ! 
" He was done with life," so the neighbors said, 

And the mother answered not a word. 

Eddie had closed his dying eyes — 

They looked when the last faint breath should 
fail; 
But the eyelids thrilled with a sweet surprise, 

And a flush ran over his forehead pale. 
They saw the glory of Heaven flow 

Down on the face so pure and meek ; 
And oh, the smile — like a flower on snow — 

That sank through the curves of his pallid 
cheek ! 



174 DEATH IN THE FOREST. 

"Eddie was done with life," they said, 

So they robed in white the beautiful clay; 
They veiled their eyes, for the child was dead, 

And sighing and sobbing, went their way. 
But say it had chanced they wore no veils, 

Methinks when the coffin slid below, 
They had seen their boy through the forest-dales, 

With just that smile — like a flower on snow ! 




FLOATING ON THE LAKE. 



IGHTLY floating on the lake 
All the merry, merry day; 
How the swells arise and break, 
Flash and toss their pearly spray ! 

While I dream — float and dream 

As the billows in my wake 
Roll and bubble, glide and gleam, 
Creep and vanish in the lake. 

ii. 

Green the shore and fair the lake ; 

Here the bark and there the glade ; 
Here the ripple, there the brake ; 
Here the sun and there the shade. 

While I dream — float and dream, 

Would my heart might never wake ! 
Swell and bubble, glide and gleam, 
Creep and sparkle, laughing lake. 

in. 

Sigh and murmur, swelling lake, 
I Ve a lover on the shore ; 



176 FLOATING ON THE LAKE. 

There he waits my hand to take, 
When my wayward mood is o'er. 

Still I dream — float and dream; 

Shall I never, never wake ? 
Creep and bubble, glide and gleam, 
Sink and swell, O tossing lake ! 

IV. 

Hark ! the wind is on the lake ; 

Shadows drift and veil the skies ; 
Yonder cloud begins to break, 
Forth the baleful lightning flies. 

Still I dream — float and dream ; 

O my foolish heart, awake ! 
See the billows roll and gleam, 
Rise and dash across the lake! 

v. 
Shoreward flying o'er the lake — 
Ah my friend, too long alone, 
Faithful still though all forsake ; 
Well my loving shall atone ! 

While we dream — sweetly dream 
Suns may shine, or storms may 
break ; 
Roll and bubble, glide and gleam — 
Love is brighter, swelling lake ! 



i 




LEONORA. 

i. 
>EONORA, Leonora! 
The chill drifts of winter thy bosom 
encumber ; 

The shrill tempest beats at the door of thy 
tomb : 
Arise, O my love, from the silence of slumber, 
Smile forth, and the glad world in roses will 
bloom ! 

Leonora, Leonora ! 
White soul of my bride, shall I lure thee in 
vain? 
Draw near in the light of thy snowy array ; 
Sweet singer, breathe softly thine olden refrain : 
" Let the seasons roll on, let the moons wax 
and wane, 
But Love shall not perish, nor wither away." 

ii. 
Leonora, Leonora, 
The rushing winds thrill with the voice of my 
pleading : 

12 



178 LEONORA. 

I die with my sorrow — oh hear and awake ! 
See, cast at thy feet, how my torn heart is 
bleeding ! 
Smile forth, and the morning eternal will 
break, 

Leonora, Leonora! 
White soul of my bride, shall I lure thee in vain ? 
Draw near, and the midnight will burn like 
the day : 
Oh breathe again softly thine olden refrain : 
"Let the seasons roll on, let the moons wax 
and wane, 
But Love shall not perish, nor wither away." 

in. 
Leonora, Leonora! 
In their sun-guided ways all the stars look and 
listen — 
What light breaks at last through the door 
of thy tomb ? 
I see thy white robes as they glimmer and 
glisten, 
And lo ! the sweet roses have burst into bloom ! 
Leonora, Leonora! 
White soul of my bride, Death shall lure thee 
in vain, — 
His snow-drifted midnight is burning with 
day: 



LEONORA. 179 

Thy lips murmur softly their olden refrain : 
" Let the seasons roll on, let the moons wax 
and wane, 
But Love shall not perish, nor wither away." 




WHITE VIOLETS. 

Y sweetest friend I sought to please : 
I led her down a cool descent, 

Where trailed the boughs of ancient 
trees, 

Most quaintly bent. 

A glen we found all velvet-lined, 

Whence, peering fifty fathoms down, 
We saw the flashing rapids wind 
Through boulders brown. 

A light cascade flung crystal globes 

O'er dense green moss and slender sedge ; 
Then flitting on, in gauzy robes, 
Waltzed o'er the ledge. 

Full softly shone, through leaves half furled 

And filmy, frail, spray-silvered nets, 
Those loveliest blossoms in the world, — 
White violets. 

Oh pure, oh fragrant woodland things ! 
My friend beheld them with delight; 



WHITE VIOLETS. 181 

She lightly brushed their snow-flake wings 
With hand as white. 

" Fair flowers ; and is it sweet," she said, 
" To dwell in such a glade of dews ? " 
Then lower drooped her faultless head, 
And seemed to muse. 

"But human hearts," she murmured then, 

" With cause for constant sighs are weighed ; 
Wherefore we yearn, though green the glen, 
For deeper shade. 

" And, watching breezy water-jets 

In mossy woods, we straightway crave 
By their attendant violets, 
A quiet grave." 

" Kind Claire," I sighed, " the thought is thine ; 

Still should I pray for lengthened life, 
If but that restless hand were mine — 
Its queen — my wife ! 

" Yet softer sleep could never be, 

When this my pilgrimage must end, 
Than under flowers beloved of thee, 
My sweetest friend." 



182 WHITE VIOLETS. 

She raised a rapt, transfigured face : 

" Blest with thy love," the maiden said, 
" No more shall Claire crave resting-place 
Among the dead ! " 

Soft sang the wind through ancient bowers! 

Light swayed the gauzy water-jets ! 
Loving and loved ! — Oh rarest flowers, — 
White violets! 



i 




FALLEN FRUIT. 

I. 
WILD wind of the sea, 

Blow on and mock my soul ! 
For the red fruit falls from the fading 
tree, 
And the last wine drips from the crystal bowl. 
I sit all day in my chamber door ; 

Over the sea the wind blows cold; 
I miss the white sail by the shore, 
And the merrily chanted songs of old : 
But the waves roll ever — 
Over my dead are the proud waves rolled ! 

ii. 

O blue waves of the sea, 

Roll on and mock my soul ! 
For the sail was rent and the helm set free, 
And the sailor hurled to his dreamless goal. 
I sit alone in my chamber-door : 

Over the sea the wind blows cold ; 
Alas for the white sail on the shore, 
And the merrily chanted songs of old ! 



184 FALLEN FRUIT. 

But the waves roll ever — 
Over my dead are the proud waves rolled. 

in. 
O swift and angry sea, 

Surge on and whelm my soul ! 
For the last bird flies from the barren tree, 
And I yearn for the sailor's dreamless goal. 
I will sit no more in my chamber door : 

O billows of ocean swift and cold, 
Ye shall drag me down from the rocky 
shore, 
Where my love lies mute as the songs of 
old! — 

So the waves roll ever : 
Over the dead are the proud waves rolled ! 



FLOWERS OF AUTUMN. 

KS^JSH* these are the last of my flowers ! 
|*|§^fL These pansies of purple and white ; 
f &i!W% These mourning-brides, heavy with 
showers, 

And veiled in the colors of night ; 
This perfume-distilling sweet-pea, 

Where the honey, unrobbed, lingers yet ; 
Forget-me-nots, blue as the sea, 

And sprays of the sweet mignonette. 

The last of my flowers in the vase ! 

No more shall I steal out to view 
Each fresh-budded, glad little face 

A-nodding at me in the dew ; 
No more shall I kiss them apart 

In childish impatience of time ; 
While the currents of love in my heart 

Swell into the flower-buds of rhyme. 

Ah me ! when my summer shall die, 

And Grief drops for me her sad showers, 



186 FLOWERS OF AUTUMN. 

O'er my poor lays some loved one will sigh, 
Saying, " These are the last of her flowers ! " 

Yet, softly rehearsing the lines, 
Forbearing to cavil or sneer, 

Will murmur, u Her spirit repines 
No more at the fall of the Year. 

" She has passed from the shade of the tomb; 

She has put off the colors of night ; 
All her flower-buds of thought are in bloom, 

And heavy with dews of delight ! 
Dear heart ! so the season is sweet, 

For God's love enriches her hours ; 
No more will she, sighing, repeat, 

1 Ah, these are the last of my flowers ! ' " 




POEM. 

READ AT THE ANNIVERSARY FESTIVITIES OF THE " NAMELESS 
CLUB," OCTOBER 27, 1863. 

I. 

>OULD mine were some celestial min- 
strel's art ! 
So should I charm with dulcitudes of 
rhyme 
The Nameless Empress of our festal time ; 
Who, spirit-like, draws from the world apart, 
But lights the pupils of our finer sight, 
And dwells among us, palpable and bright, 
Like Love within the chambers of the heart. 

ii. 

For she is worthy sweeter song than mine 
Who wins the fealty of souls like these ; 
And, deftly touching Friendship's organ-keys, 

Draws forth the prelude meet for hymns divine ; 
With loyal souls, for her we gladly pour 
Flower-scented honey from our summer store, 

And bid our choicest palm-fruits yield their 
wine. 



188 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 

III. 
Ye who remember in what guise she came, — 

In darkness draped, a shade with starry eyes ; 

Till grown self-luminous, like boreal skies, 
Ye saw her form of beauty limned in flame ; 

Ye know how then ye made, in sacred rite, 

For love of her a covenant with night, 
And gave yourselves the shadow of a name. 

IV. 

And we, of late adopted, whom she drew 
By the strong magnet of her gracious will, — 
Who, at the threshold of her throne-room, still 

Have loitered, — touch, to-night, with reverence 
due, 
Her sceptre : lo ! like Aaron's rod of old, 
It breaks in bud, its gradual flowers unfold, 

And perfect almonds ripen in our view ! 

v. 
For where is festive gathering like ours? 
Fair Clio, muse of history, draws near, 
And with new w^ine revives the dying year ; 
Here sings Euterpe, fresh from laurel-bowers ; 
Here Calliope, skilled the heart to reach, 
From Thought's deep river flings the foam 
of speech ; 
And oh scorn not the Poet's scanty flowers ! 



ANNIVERSARY POEM. 189 



VI. 

No festival like ours: yet while we meet, 
We might discern, had we clairvoyant powers, 
The silent ecstasies of mingling flowers ; 

The electric currents in a kindling heat 

Of mutual joy ; the sounding rush and jar 
Of reveling tides ; mount greeting mount afar, 

Through roar of avalanches white and fleet ; 

VII. 

The soft attraction of June clouds, that shine, 
Yet hide the sun till day is tinged with dark ; 
As cherub-wings, flung radiant o'er the ark, 

Shielded from mortal eyes its light divine ; 
And the recurrent, glad concourse above 
Of burning stars that still approach and love, 

And lean from their curved orbit's golden line. 

VIII. 

But we have nobler union : being made 

Sentient of God and Truth and our own souls ; 

And while each delicate pulse within us rolls 

Quickened with friendly fervor, we are weighed 

In Heaven's just balance, and all things beside 

Found less than we, — flower, mount, electric 

tide, 

Cloud, star, and sun, — through each material 

grade. 



190 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 



IX. 
Linked sweetly, life with life, how glad should 
prove 
Our annual gathering ! since one dear name 
We bear ; and recognize the vital claim 
Of strong resemblances, that strangely move 
With sense of adaptation each to each ; 
Or sharp antagonisms, like wasps, that reach 
Into the heart, to get the sweets of love. 

x. 

For transient raptures of the lesser kinds 

Of this, exceeding all, are but rude types; 

Or far-off echoes of these music-pipes, 
Where lurk the rhythmic powers of poet-minds : 

Nature has myriad revelers ; but we, 

Royally human, hold our jubilee 
As princes do, whose hall no peasant finds. 

XI. 

Even thus the winds, that, all the season through, 
Ply their light wings, and toss the feathery 

spray 
Among the roses, or arise from play 

To bend the giant larches, cool with dew, 
Merry and wild with aery willfulness, 
In frequent, tuneful revelries congress, 

And all their birthnight harmonies renew. 



ANNIVERSARY POEM. 191 

XII. 

For once in central caverns, dark and dread, 
Dwelt winged iEolus, when the earth was 

new ; 
There all his sons and daughters voiceful 
grew, 
And shook with noise the mountains overhead : 
Till Saturn's son — the wave-controlling god — 
Vexed with their music, smote with cleaving 
rod 
The rock, sea-shaken, and unleashed they fled. 

XIII. 

How rushed they forth, alert and strong and 
free ! 
With dancing feet to thrid the dark-arched 

woods ; 
To plow the sands on desert solitudes ; 
O'er drowsy plains to chase the flitting bee ; 
Down dripping chasms the falling leaf to 

whirl ; 
Cloud against cloud mid leaping flames to 
hurl ; 
To beat, with forceful wings, the frothy sea : 

XIV. 

But, back at last, in sudden joyful raids, 
They wheel into the caverns of their birth, 



192 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 

To fill with laughter all the vaults of earth, — 
The secret, rayless, dewy haunt of shades ; 

To smite wild harps on every beetling ledge ; 

To pour libations unto Pan, and pledge 
Eternal love, beside the sea-cascades. 

xv. 

So we, the Nameless, being loud in song, 
In speech persistent, vexed the gods to smite 
Our noisy souls from secret caves of night ; 

And restless as the winds, the sad year long 
We beat the billows of opinion, caught 
Mid storm and cloud the lightning-flames of 
thought, 

Or teased the reed, or did the trumpet wrong. 

XVI. 

Small spheres are ours : but we, at least, as- 
pire, 
And by our diligence in labor, prove 
Our right divine to life and hope and love ; 
And while we wield the sword or sweep the 
lyre, 
And sculpture the serene designs of Fate, 
Sure of the crown are we, and purple state, 
In those high courts where dwells our Lord 
and Sire. 



ANNIVERSARY POEM. 193 



XVII. 

And now all burdens from the heart we fling ; 

We float from tempests, we are glad and free ; 

We pass the turbulent whirlpools of the sea 
Of human effort, poising every wing 

For flights ecstatic, while we toss the spray 

Of gleeful words, and pour with laughter gay 
Libations to our queen, whose praise we sing. 

XVIII. 

Were seasons bitter in the bygone year? 
We feel no chill to-night from any cold : 
Crossed we the desert ? back the sands have 
rolled, 
And the Nile's lapsing symphonies we hear: 
Was love withheld ? still we had love to 

give : 
Are loved ones dead ? our dead shall surely 
live : 
Has earth receded? ah, then heaven is near! 

XIX. 

And more to grace our natal night, behold 
A miracle ! beside the honeyed hive 
Our sweetest flowers (for there were flowers) 
revive ; 

The autumn breeze, but lately waxing bold, 

13 



194 ANNIVERSARY POEM, 

Dies in the fragrance of the bursting rose : 
The Past bids all its emerald gates unclose — 
Backward we glide and test the joys of old. 

xx. 

The flash of mind converging tow r ard mind, 
Caught and refracted in Love's crystal lens, 
Lighting those vehement fires that melt and 
cleanse 
The gold of character, else unrefined ; 

Harmonious wills that made all converse sweet, 
Like bugles played in time with marching 
feet, 
Or varying voices, tunefully combined ; 

XXI. 

And that rare confluence of soul with soul, — 
As meeting rivers that through valleys pour, 
Will fret and chafe the intervening shore 

Until it breaks and as one wave they roll 
Through noontide splendor and through mid- 
night shade, 
And nevermore are wholly two, but made 

Each heir of both and partner in the whole; 

XXII. 

And all the silent sympathies that rose 
After the falling of some frost of grief — 



ANNIVERSARY POEM, 195 

Like violets that push the growing leaf 
Against the lingering lines of April snows : 

These joys were of the Nameless — still are 
ours, 

And shall be till we lose the breath of flowers, 
And find, on arctic plains, our long repose. 

XXIII. 

While we the Year's chrysalides unlace, 

And all their silken threads around us creep, 

What living memories start from shrouded 

sleep ! 

Upon whose broad, gold-dusted wings we trace 

The penciled curves of many a pictured 

scene, — 
Sun-copied hills, the river's rippling sheen, 
And the soft hues of many a shadowy place. 

XXIV. 

For when the days were in their rosiest bloom 
We shook away the dust of city marts ; 
And with a happy sense of lightened hearts, 

Let fall awhile our heavy weights of gloom : 
Right princely was our welcome to the wood, 
The green-roofed paths, the valley and the 
flood, 

And to the generous board and tasteful room ! 



196 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 



xxv. 

The moon came up that eve, fall-orbed and 
fair — 
That sovereign Cleopatra, — ruling Night, 
And dropping ever in his loving sight 

Her threaded pearls adown the wine-like air: 
Half undissolved they sank through shadows 

Embroidered Mo-no-sha-sha's robe of spray, 
And caught in Deh-ga-ya-soh's silver snare. 

XXVI. 

All night w r e heard the river-cataracts pour: 
Their ceaseless timbrels smote the ear of sleep; 
Till all our dreams, like waves that landward 
sweep, 
Were wild and voluble with naiad-lore : 

And we were reft of rest, and seemed to be 
Kuhleborns and Undines, dripping w T ith the 
sea, 
Or knights and ladies drenched upon the shore. 

XXVII. 

Surely the w r ater-witches tricked us well ! 
When the carved cuckoo made the morning 

hours 
Finish their rounds with song, mid falling 

showers, 






ANNIVERSARY POEM. 197 

And rain-weighed rose-vines ; scarcely might we 
tell 
Whether we had not lost our souls in dreams 
Of that past night, and w T ere but sprites 
of streams, 
Oreads of hills, or elfs of knoll and dell. 

XXVIII. 

Upon the grass-fringed lakelet, fountain-fed 
With cooling rills, just drained from hill-side 

wells, 
Where, to the tinkle of sweet water-bells, 
Aerial jets were - waltzing overhead, 

By sirens lured, how daintily we rode ! 
Till, drawn too near their crystalline abode, 
What showers the fickle creatures o'er us 
shed? 

XXIX. 

We trod the dim cool windings of the trail 
That through the forest led to secret nooks, 
Where lightly laughed the ever-raptured 
brooks, 
And the mitchella repens blossomed, pale 
From love of shade and rich excess of dew ; 
Where pulsed the bubbling spring, and down- 
ward threw, 
From tiny heights, its moss-entangled veil. 



198 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 



XXX. 

We sauntered by the still, sequestered lake, 
O'er which the trees leaned low and dis- 
allowed 
Reflection of blue sky or tinted cloud : 
Hushed were we into silence, or but spake 
Half to recite, half chant some rhymed 

phrase : 
(Ah ! such the witchery of those woodland 
ways, 
The very lovers there their loves forsake /) 

XXXI. 

But thou, O Genesee ! above thy tide 

On grassy lawn we loitered in the shade, 
And watched thy cascade-waves their net- 
work braid 
Of sunny coils, the notched, rude rocks to hide ; 
And heard — as choir-sung hymns, past archi- 
trave 
And frescoed arch, and pillar-narrowed 
nave — 
Ever, O Genesee, thy songs of pride ! 

XXXII. 

Vaunting, thou child of clouds, thy lineage high ; 
Thine ermine-bordered, rustling, gemmed 
attire ; 



ANNIVERSARY POEM. 199 

Thy rainbow-wrought pavilion, fringed with 

fire 
Of ardent suns when reigns the proud July; 

Thy creeping, leaping, battling waterfalls ; 

Thine ancient, steadfast, most imperial halls, 
Whose lofty chambers swell thy lightest sigh. 

XXXIII. 

O home of peace ! O cedar-bowered land — 
Glistening Glen Iris, beautiful as heaven ! 
O cloven hills, by flood or earthquake riven ! 
O riotous stream, impetuous and grand ! 

There while we dwelt, gay laugh and mimic 

feud 
Our youth revived, our childhood half re- 
newed, 
And knit, forever one, our songful band. 

XXXIV. 

But shall we yield our souls to dreams of 
rest ? 
Floating on gossamer-memories, away 
From dissonant life and all the sad to-day, — 
To sink into the poppy's scarlet breast, 

Crying " Here linger ! there is need of 

sleep ! " 
When round us " deep is calling unto deep," 
Nation to nation in the East and West ? 



200 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 

xxxv. 

List to their passionate voices : " Wake, oil wake ! 
Our rulers rule not well : their yokes are 

hard ; 
Their palaces the very day retard 
With lengthened shadows, when the mornings 
break : 
Are we but slaves that thus we crouch the 

knee ? 
Hearken ! God thunders ' Ye are men — are 
free ! ' 
And dynasties beneath his judgments quake." 

XXXVI. 

How long shall Poland faint and Hungary sleep ? 

How long shall sultan smite and emperor plot? 

How long shall tears of blood earth's records 

blot? 

How long shall Afric, scourged, submissive creep 

And drag the brutal trader's shameful chains ? 

How long shall Northern blood wet Southern 

plains ? . 

How long shall heroes sow and dastards reap ? 

XXXVII. 

O Power Supreme, thou knowest — thou alone ! 
But there are omens in the air and sky, 



ANNIVERSARY POEM. 201 

That prove the very gods are drawing nigh — 
Touched to the heart by every human groan. 
Cloud-veiled, they ride to end the doubtful 

fray; 
Around their feet the obedient lightnings play ; 
Down mount and vale their heaven-forged bolts 
are thrown. 

XXXVIII. 

Wild battle-blasts have withered half our land, 
And Freedom pants and pales in hellish 

toils ; 
But ah, above the dragon's stiffening coils, 
The car of Victory rolls from strand to strand ! 
Its winged coursers cleave the smoke of strife ; 
O'er mortal dust blooms deathless spirit-life ; 
Dread War rides on — but rides toward issues 
grand. 

XXXIX. 

For God shall speak ; and clash of cleaving sword, 
And cherub-harps and archangelic songs 
In larger sound shall merge unheard, while 
throngs 

Of stars, made fair by his Creative Word, 
Shall hark to the ineffable voiceful breath : 
" Columbia, rise — thou conqueror of Death ! 

Savior of nations, counselor and lord ! " 



202 ANNIVERSARY POEM. 

XL. 
Comes not the hour ? quake not the rock-based 
hills? 
Falls not griefs darkness over sea and plain ? 
Are not the veils of temples rent in twain ? 
Have not the Dead grown quick with throes and 
thrills 
Of actual life ? — appearing, saintly pale, 
Through faint aureola and shimmering veil, 
While Sin his own death-measure over-fills ? 

XLI. 

For us, who now all mournful thought forbear, 
Weak, " Nameless," we are children ne'erthe- 

less 
Of Him, who ever waits in heaven to bless 
With kind " Well done ! " our sad laborious 
care. 
There shall our lives, that find rough channels 

here, 
Flow smoothly on, nor beat the shores of 
Fear ; 
And all their hours be sweet and debonair. 

XLII. 

Thus when our souls, ascending, seek the sun, 
Each from new heights of social joy shall turn, 



AXXIVERSARY POEM. 203 

And, looking earthward, find the broken urn 
Of his past life with myrtle overrun ; 

And hear some loiterer in the graveyard say, 
" This soul was worthy of heaven's perfect 
day, 
Who did the work God gave, and hindered 
none." 



THE END 



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