Southern Branch of the niversity of California , Los Angeles Form L-l This book is DUE on the last date stamped below JAl^ MAY 16 1956 APR! 1963 MAY U - .365 /ICE m L-9-5i-5,'24 3Tolm PIKE COUNTY BALLADS. Holiday Edition. Illustrated in color by N. C Wyeth. POEMS. Revised Edition. CASTILIAN DAYS. Revised Edition. Uniform with the above. New Holiday Edition. With illustrations by Joseph Pennell. The Same. Cambridge Classics. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN HAY THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN HAY WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY CLARENCE L. HAY w v .,' ; ; j :,, ;\ BOSTON AND NEW YORK , HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 1917 61258 COPYRIGHT, 1871, 1890, AND 1899, BY JOHN HAY COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY CLARA S. HAY , COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY CLARENCE L. HAY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED * V' ro \3>OO r **~ . n 15 * CONTENTS V^ INTRODUCTION ri THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS JIM BLUDSO 8 LITTLE BREECHES 6 * BANTY TIM 10 j\ THE MYSTERY OF GILGAL 14 GOLYEB 17 THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT 21 ;f WANDERLIEDER SUNRISE IN THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE 29 THE SPHINX OF THE TUILERIES 86 THE SURRENDER OF SPAIN 88 THE PRAYER OF THE ROMANS 41 J THE CURSE OF HUNGARY THE MONKS OF BASLE 47 f** THE ENCHANTED SHIBT 62 A WOMAN'S LOVE 67 ON PITZ LANGUARD 69 BOUDOIR PROPHECIES 61 A TRIUMPH OF ORDER 68 ERNST OF EDELSHEIM 66 MY CASTLE IN SPAIN 70 SISTER SAINT LUKE 74 CONTENTS NEW AND OLD MILES KEOGH'S HORSE 77 THE ADVANCE GUARD 81 LOVE'S PRAYER 84 CHBISTINE 86 EXPECTATION 87 TO FLORA 89 A HAUNTED ROOM 91 DREAMS 92 THE LIGHT OF LOVE 93 QUAND MEME 94 WORDS 97 THE STIRRUP CUP 98 A DREAM OF BRIC-A-BRAC 99 LIBERTY 107 THE WHITE FLAG 109 THE LAW OF DEATH 111 MOUNT TABOR 115 RELIGION AND DOCTRINE 118 SINAI AND CALVARY 121 THE VISION OF SAINT PETER 124 ISRAEL 127 THE CROWS AT WASHINGTON 131 REMORSE 133 ESSE QUAM VIDERI 134 WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME 135 LESE- AMOUR 138 NORTHWARD 140 IN THE FIRELIGHT 143 [vi] CONTENTS IN A GRAVEYARD 148 THE PRAIRIE 1 148 CENTENNIAL 151 A WINTER NIGHT 156 STUDENT-SONG 157 HOW IT HAPPENED 159 GOD'S VENGEANCE 162 TOO LATE 164 LOVE'S DOUBT 167 LAGRIMAS 169 ON THE BLUFF 171 UNA 173 THROUGH THE LONG DATS 176 A PHYLACTERY 177 BLONDINE 179 DISTICHS 181 REGARDANT 186 GUY OF THE TEMPLE 188 TRANSLATIONS THE WAY TO HEAVEN 207 AFTER HEINE: / COUNTESS JUTTA 209 A BLESSING 211 TO THE YOUNG 212 THE GOLDEN CALF 213 THE AZRA 215 GOOD AND BAD LUCK 216 L' AMOUR DU MENSONGE 217 AMOR MYSTICUS 819 [ Vii ] CONTENTS UNCOLLECTED PIECES NARRATIVE POEMS BENONI DUNN 225 "AFTER YOU, PILOT" 228 SONNETS TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT 232 ATAVISM 233 TWILIGHT ON SANDUSKY MARSH 234 SORRENTO 235 P-ESTUM 236 THANATOS ATHANATOS (DEATHLESS DEATH) 237 NIGHT IN VENICE 238 PEACE (AFTER STUART MERRILL) 239 LOVE'S DAWN 240 HELEN'S STAR STONE 241 A CHALLENGE 242 LOVE AND MUSIC 243 OBEDIENCE 244 COMPENSATION 245 ESTRELLA 248 INFINITE VARIETY 247 TO ONE ABSENT 248 SLEEP ' 249 EUTHANASIA 250 A PRAYER IN THESSALY 251 ACCIDENTS 252 SONGS AND LYRICS VESPERS 253 TO THE VESPER SPARROW 254 CONTENTS THT WILL BE DONE 255 EROS EPHEMEKIS 257 IS SHE HERE? 258 MATINS 260 SWEETEST AND DEAREST 262 REVEILLE 263 TWO ON THE TERRACE 264 " RHYMES " APPARENTLY COMPOSED DURING THE EARLY MONTHS OF THE CIVIL WAR 267 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 275 INDEX OF TITLES 7 INTRODUCTION THE avowed purpose of an Introduction is to introduce, and as the Pike County characters are already "bowing acquaint- ances" if not old friends of most readers, it is not necessary to dwell on their associations or antecedents. There is an interesting allusion in a newspaper clipping which I recently came across in an old scrap-book: "Col. Thomas W. Knox, now on his way around the world, was told this story by an English gentleman in Tokio, Japan: The latter had attended, not long before, a dinner party in London, at which George Eliot was present, among other noted littera- teurs. The conversation naturally turned upon the shop, and, referring to American authors, she pronounced John Hay's 'Jim Bludso' one of the finest gems hi the English language. At the general request of the company she arose and recited the poem, the tears flowing from her eyes as she spoke the closing lines." My father himself had a weakness for "Bludso" and he wrote to Mr. Joseph Bishop in 1889:" . . . I thoroughly appre- ciate a good word spoken for Jim, who is a friend of mine. I shudder and hide in the cellar only when the boy with the small knickerbockers is mentioned." Though it amused him to write them, my father could never understand the popularity of his frontier sketches. He grew very tired of hearing them quoted, and even before 1880 he said that he " wished people would forget the Ballads," but half INTRODUCTION a century has shown that these rough-hewn models of Western types are destined to outlive all his other poetical efforts. The poems previously published in book form seem to need no further introductory mention, but it is the presence of the Uncollected Verses that gives this edition a peculiar interest. It has been hard to establish the chronological sequence of the "new poems," as my father was very reticent in talking of his verses, even with his family and closest friends. From evi- dence in hand, however, I have been able to determine the probable period of most of them. On June 3, 1890, he sent "Love's Dawn" to Mr. R. W. Gilder, of the Century, with the following letter: "Here is a sonnet which I hope may find favor in the eyes of you past- master of the sonnet. If you think it worth printing, it is yours, without money or price, on the condition it be printed anonymously. I am rather too old a bird to be singing in this strain. If you conclude to print it, tell me about when, and send me a proof." This was accepted, and appeared hi the Century Magazine for September, 1890. "Compensation" was published in the same magazine hi December, 1892. "Love and Music" appeared in Harper's Monthly in 1893 and "A Prayer in Thessaly " in a number of the Century, the same year. "Psestum" and "Twilight on Sandusky Marsh" came out in Harper's in 1896. After 1896 I do not think that any poems of my father's were published in periodicals until 1904, when the Century printed "Thanatos Athanatos." My father kept tucked away in a chest, known as "The Despatch-Box," a number of manuscripts which he never offered to the public. Of these about twenty appear in this [xii ] INTRODUCTION volume. A few others, which seemed either too rough in form or too occasional, have been left out. The "Uncollected Pieces," with the exception of "Benoni Dunn" and "After you, Pilot," which apparently belong to an earlier period, and three others which will be referred to later, were written in the years from 1890 to 1896, the greater number during the first two years. After a decade and a half of infinite research, interesting to the worker, but involving much clerical labor and application to a single method, the Life of Lincoln was finished in 1890. There remained only the editing of the work. The greater number of the pieces in ques- tion were composed during the few years of comparative leisure following the completion of the author's greatest literary effort. We must therefore look upon them as born of the freedom hi which the research worker suddenly found himself, and not writ- ten as a relaxation in the midst of his diplomatic assiduities. In a letter to Mr. W. D. Howells, June 8, 1890, my father wrote: "I have had the impudence to collect all my verses, new and stale, into one volume, which Houghton & Mifflin have printed. . . . You will not suspect me of taking them too seriously in thus dressing them up. On the contrary, it is only the conscious amateur who does such things." From the fact that he submitted such a limited number of his later verses to the editors, it is evident that he took them even less seriously than those he mentions as forming this collected volume. John Hay was by inclination an author. He loved to write, and wrote easily. His diplomatic career he considered an accident, or rather a chapter of accidents. When President McKinley appointed him Ambassador to Great Britain in 1897, INTRODUCTION he was not in good health, and he went from a sense of duty, reluctantly. From that time on, diplomacy and affairs of state controlled his life. The poet sang no more songs, and rhymed no more ballads. I can find but three poems that were composed during his last years: "Peace," written in 1899 or 1900; "To Theodore Roosevelt," Christmas Eve, 1902; and "Thanatos Athanatos," published in June, 1904. His broken health, together with the bereavements which came to him in 1901, crushed his spirit, and had he wished, he could not have lightened his few leisure hours with verse-making. "At such a time Art sickens through the world, Song slumbers with lethargic pinions furled." It was only during his early life that John Hay thought seriously of being a poet. The desire was clear in his under- graduate days at Brown, and in the "Poet in Exile" letters of 1858-60. It was still manifest in his war-time pieces, notably in "Rhymes," from which I have just quoted, written, I believe, in the White House. It is vain to conjecture what position he would have held in the world of letters if he had followed the inclinations of his youth. Fate took the choice out of his hands and turned the bard to first a writer, then a maker, of history. Though thoroughly suppressed, the poetic side of my father's nature ran as an undercurrent throughout his last years, and helped him in the many serious problems he was called upon to solve. But for the statesman in him, he would have been more a poet: but for the poet in him, he would have been less a statesman. CLARENCE LEONARD HAY. THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS JIM BLUDSO OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE WALL, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Becase he don't live, you see; Leastways, he 's got out of the habit Of livin' like you and me. Whar have you been for the last three year That you have n't heard folks tell How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks The night of the Prairie Belle ? He were n't no saint, them engineers Is all pretty much alike, One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill And another one here, in Pike; A keerless man in his talk was Jim, And an awkward hand in a row, But he never flunked, and he never lied, I reckon he never knowed how. [3 ] THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS And this was all the religion he had, To treat his engine well; Never be passed on the river; To mind the pilot's bell; And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire, A thousand times he swore, He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last soul got ashore. All boats has their day on the Mississip, And her day come at last, The Movastar was a better boat, But the Belle she would n't be passed. And so she come tearin' along that night The oldest craft on the line With a nigger squat on her safety-valve, And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. The fire bust out as she clared the bar, And burnt a hole in the night, And quick as a flash she turned, and made For that wilier-bank on the right. [4] JIM BLUDSO There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat Jim Bludso's voice was heard, And they all had trust in his cussedness, And knowed he would keep his word. And, sure's you're born, they all got off Afore the smokestacks fell, And Bludso's ghost went up alone In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. He were n't no saint, but at jedgment I'd run my chance with Jim, 'Longside of some pious gentlemen That would n't shook hands with him. He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, And went for it thar and then; And Christ ain't a-going to be too hard On a man that died for men. LITTLE BREECHES I DON'T go much on religion, I never ain't had no show; But I 've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free-will, and that sort of thing, - But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring. I come into town with some turnips, And my little Gabe come along, No four-year-old in the county Could beat him for pretty and strong, Peart and chipper and sassy, Always ready to swear and fight, And I 'd larnt him to chaw terbacker Jest to keep his milk-teeth white. [6] LITTLE BREECHES The snow come down like a blanket As I passed by Taggart's store; I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. They scared at something and started, I heard one little squall, And hell-to-split over the prairie Went team, Little Breeches, and all. Hell-to-split over the prairie! I was almost froze with skeer; But we rousted up some torches, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon, Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat, but of little Gabe No hide nor hair was found. And here all hope soured on me, Of my fellow-critter's aid, [71 THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. By this, the torches was played out, And me and Isrul Parr Went off for some wood to a sheepfold That he said was somewhar thar. We found it at last, and a little shed Where they shut up the lambs at night. We looked in and seen them huddled thar, So warm and sleepy and white; And thar sot Little Breeches and chirped, As peart as ever you see, 'I want a chaw of terbacker, And that's what's the matter of me." How did he git thar ? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm ; They jest scooped down and toted him To whar it was safe and warm. [8] LITTLE BREECHES And I think that saving a little child, And fetching him to his own, Is a derned sight better business Than loafing around the Throne. BANTY TIM (REMARKS OF SERGEANT TILMON JOY TO THE WHITE MAN'S COMMITTEE OF SPUNKY POINT, ILLINOIS) I RECKON I git your drift, gents, You 'low the boy sha'n't stay; This is a white man's country; You're Dimocrats, you say; And whereas, and seein', and wherefore, The times bein' all out o' j'int, The nigger has got to mosey From the limits o' Spunky P'int ! Le's reason the thing a minute: I'm an old-fashioned Dimocrat too, Though I laid my politics out o' the way For to keep till the war was through. But I come back here, allowin' To vote as I used to do, [ 10 1 BANTY TIM Though it gravels me like the devil to train Along o' sich fools as you. Now dog my cats ef I kin see, In all the light of the day, What you've got to do with the question Ef Tim shill go or stay. And furder than that I give notice, Ef one of you tetches the boy, He kin check his trunks to a warmer clime Than he'll find in Illanoy. Why, blame your hearts, jest hear me ! You know that ungodly day When our left struck Vicksburg Heights, how ripped And torn and tattered we lay. When the rest retreated I stayed behind, Fur reasons sufficient to me, With a rib caved in, and a leg on a strike, I sprawled on that cursed glacee. [Hi THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS Lord! how the hot sun went for us, And br'iled and blistered and burned! How the Rebel bullets whizzed round us When a cuss in his death-grip turned! Till along toward dusk I seen a thing I could n't believe for a spell: That nigger that Tim was a-crawlin' to me Through that fire-proof, gilt-edged hell! The Rebels seen him as quick as me, And the bullets buzzed like bees; But he jumped for me, and shouldered me, Though a shot brought him once to his knees; But he staggered up, and packed me off, With a dozen stumbles and falls, Till safe in our lines he drapped us both, His black hide riddled with balls. So, my gentle gazelles, thar 's my answer, And here stays Banty Tim: He trumped Death's ace for me that day, And I 'm not goin' back on him ! I 12] BANTY TIM You may rezoloot till the cows come home, But ef one of you tetches the boy, He'll wrastle his hash to-night in hell, Or my name's not Tilmon Joy. THE MYSTERY OF GILGAL THE darkest, strangest mystery I ever read, or heern, or see, Is 'long of a drink at Taggart's Hall, Tom Taggart's of Gilgal. I've heern the tale a thousand ways, But never could git through the maze That hangs around that queer day's doin's But I'll tell the yarn to youans. Tom Taggart stood behind his bar, The time was fall, the skies was fa'r, The neighbors round the counter drawed, And ca'mly drinked and jawed. At last come Colonel Blood of Pike, And old Jedge Phinn, permiscus-like, And each, as he meandered in, Remarked, "A whisky-skin." [141 THE MYSTERY OF GILGAL Tom mixed the beverage full and fa'r, And slammed it, smoking, on the bar. Some says three fingers, some says two, I '11 leave the choice to you. Phinn to the drink put forth his hand; Blood drawed his knife, with accent bland, " I ax yer parding, Mister Phinn Jest drap that whisky-skin." No man high-toneder could be found Than old Jedge Phinn the country round. Says he, "Young man, the tribe of Phinns Knows their own whisky-skins ! " He went for his 'leven-inch bowie-knife: "I tries to foller a Christian life; But I'll drap a slice of liver or two, My bloomin' shrub, with you." They carved in a way that all admired, Tell Blood drawed iron at last, and fired. [ 15 1 THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS It took Seth Bludso 'twixt the eyes, Which caused him great surprise. Then coats went off, and all went in; Shots and bad language swelled the din; The short, sharp bark of Derringers, Like bull-pups, cheered the furse. They piled the stiffs outside the door; They made, I reckon, a cord or more. Girls went that winter, as a rule, Alone to spellin'-school. I've sarched in vain, from Dan to Beer- Sheba, to make this mystery clear; But I end with hit as I did begin, "WHO GOT THE WHISKY-SKIN?" GOLYER EF the way a man lights out of this world Helps fix his heft for the other sp'ere, I reckon my old friend Golyer's Ben Will lay over lots of likelier men For one thing he done down here. You did n't know Ben ? He driv a stage On the line they called the Old Sou'-west; He wa'n't the best man that ever you seen, And he wa'n't so ungodly pizen mean, No better nor worse than the rest. He was hard on women and rough on his friends; And he did n't have many, I'll let you know; He hated a dog and disgusted a cat, But he'd run off his legs for a motherless brat, And I guess there's many jess so. I've seed my sheer of the run of things, I 've hoofed it a many and many a miled, [ 17] THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS But I never seed nothing that could or can Jest git all the good from the heart of a man Like the hands of a little child. Well! this young one I started to tell you about, His folks was all dead, I was fetchin' him through, He was just at the age that's loudest for boys, And he blowed such a horn with his sarchin' small voice, We called him "the Little Boy Blue." He ketched a sight of Ben on the box, And you bet he bawled and kicked and howled, For to git 'long of Ben, and ride thar too; I tried to tell him it would n't do, When suddingly Golyer growled, "What's the use of making the young one cry ? Say, what's the use of being a fool ? Sling the little one up here whar he can see, He won't git the snuffles a-ridin' with me, The night ain't any too cool." [181 GOLYER The child hushed cryin' the minute he spoke; "Come up here, Major! don't let him slip." And jest as nice as a woman could do, He wropped his blanket around them two, And was off in the crack of a whip. We rattled along an hour or so, Till we heerd a yell on the still night air. Did you ever hear an Apache yell ? Well, ye need n't want to, this side of hell; There's nothing more devilish there. Caught in the shower of lead and flint We felt the old stage stagger and plunge; Then we heerd the voice and the whip of Ben, As he gethered his critters up again, And tore away with a lunge. The passengers laughed. "Old Ben's all right, He's druv five year and never was struck." 'Now if 7 'd been thar, as sure as you live, [ 19] THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS They'd 'a' plugged me with holes as thick as a sieve; It's the reg'lar Golyer luck." Over hill and holler and ford and creek Jest like the hosses had wings, we tore; We got to Looney's, and Ben come in And laid down the baby and axed for his gin, And dropped in a heap on the floor. Said he, "When they fired, I kivered the kid, Although I ain't pretty, I'm middlin' broad; And look! he ain't fazed by arrow nor ball, Thank God! my own carcase stopped them all." Then we seen his eye glaze, and his lower jaw fall, And he carried his thanks to God. THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT A TALE OF EARNEST EFFORT AND HUMAN PERFIDY IT 's all very well for preachin', But preachin' and practice don't gee: I've give the thing a fair trial, And you can't ring it in on me. So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, Ef that's what you want me to sign; Betwixt me and you, I've been thar, And I '11 not take^any in mine. A year ago last Fo'th July A lot of the boys was here. We all got corned and signed the pledge For to drink no more that year. There was Tilmon Joy and Sheriff McPhail And me and Abner Fry, And Shelby's boy Leviticus And the Golyers, Luke and Cy. [21 ] THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS And we anteed up a hundred In the hands of Deacon Kedge For to be divided the follerin' Fo'th 'Mongst the boys that kep' the pledge. And we knowed each other so well, Squire, You may take my scalp for a fool, Ef every man when he signed his name Did n't feel cock-sure of the pool. Fur a while it all went lovely; We put up a job next day Fur to make Joy b'lieve his wife was dead, And he went home middlin' gay; Then Abner Fry he killed a man And afore he was hung McPhail Jest bilked the widder outen her sheer By getting him slewed in jail. But Chris'mas scooped the Sheriff, The egg-nogs gethered him in; And Shelby's boy Leviticus Was, New Year's, tight as sin; [221 THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT And along in March the Golyers Got so drunk that a fresh-biled owl Would 'a' looked 'long-side o' them two young men, Like a sober temperance fowl. Four months alone I walked the chalk, I thought my heart would break; And all them boys a-slappin' my back And axin', "What '11 you take ?" I never slep' without dreamin' dreams Of Burbin, Peach, or Rye, But I chawed at my niggerhead and swore I 'd rake that pool or die. At last the Fo'th I humped myself Through chores and breakfast soon, Then scooted down to Taggart's store For the pledge was off at noon; And all the boys was gethered thar, And each man hilt his glass Watchin' me and the clock quite solemn-like Fur to see the last minute pass. [231 THE PIKE COUNTY BALLADS The clock struck twelve! I raised the jug And took one lovin' pull I was holler clar from skull to boots, It seemed I could n't git full. But I was roused by a fiendish laugh That might have raised the dead Them ornary sneaks had sot the clock A hah* an hour ahead! "All right!" I squawked. "You've got me, Jest order your drinks agin, And we '11 paddle up to the Deacon's And scoop the ante in." But when we got to Kedge's, What a sight was that we saw! The Deacon and Parson Skeeters In the tail of a game of Draw. They had shook 'em the heft of the mornin', The Parson's luck was fa'r, And he raked, the minute we got thar, The last of our pool on a pa'r. [241 THE PLEDGE AT SPUNKY POINT So toddle along with your pledge, Squire, I 'low it's all very fine, But ez fur myself, I thank ye, ' I '11 not take any in mine. WANDERLIEDEB SUNRISE IN THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE (PARIS, AUGUST, 1865) I STAND at the break of day In the Champs Ely-sees. The tremulous shafts of dawning As they shoot o'er the Tuileries early, Strike Luxor's cold gray spire, And wild in the light of the morning With their marble manes on fire, Ramp the white Horses of Marly. But the Place of Concord lies Dead hushed 'neath the ashy skies. And the Cities sit in council With sleep in their wide stone eyes. I see the mystic plain Where the army of spectres slain In the Emperor's life-long war [201 WANDERLIEDER March on with unsounding tread To trumpets whose voice is dead. Their spectral chief still leads them, The ghostly flash of his sword Like a comet through mist shines far, And the noiseless host is poured, For the gendarme never heeds them, Up the long dim road where thundered The army of Italy onward Through the great pale Arch of the Star! The spectre army fades Far up the glimmering hill, But, vaguely lingering still, A group of shuddering shades ^ Infects the pallid air, Growing dimmer as day invades The hush of the dusky square. There is one that seems a King, , As if the ghost of a Crown Still shadowed his jail-bleached hair; [30J PLACE DE LA CONCORDE I can hear the guillotine ring, As its regicide note rang there, When he laid his tired life down And grew brave in his last despair. And a woman frail and fair Who weeps at leaving a world Of love and revel and sin In the vast Unknown to be hurled; (For life was wicked and sweet With kings at her small white feet!) And one, every inch a Queen, In life and in death a Queen, Whose blood baptized the place, In the days of madness and fear, Her shade has never a peer In majesty and grace. Murdered and murderers swarm; Slayers that slew and were slain, Till the drenched place smoked with the rain That poured in a torrent warm, [31 1 WANDERLIEDER Till red as the Rider's of Edom Were splashed the white garments of Freedom With the wash of the horrible storm ! And Liberty's hands were not clean In the day of her pride unchained, Her royal hands were stained With the life of a King and Queen; And darker than that with the blood Of the nameless brave and good Whose blood in witness clings More damning than Queens' and Kings'. Has she not paid it dearly ? Chained, watching her chosen nation Grinding late and early In the mills of usurpation ? Have not her holy tears Flowing through shameful years, Washed the stains from her tortured hands? We thought so when God's fresh breeze, [32] PLACE DE LA CONCORDE Blowing over the sleeping lands, In 'Forty-Eight waked the world, And the Burgher-King was hurled From that palace behind the trees. As Freedom with eyes aglow Smiled glad through her childbirth pain, How was the mother to know That her woe and travail were vain ? A smirking servant smiled When she gave him her child to keep; Did she know he would strangle the child As it lay in his arms asleep ? Liberty's cruellest shame! She is stunned and speechless yet. In her grief and bloody sweat Shall we make her trust her blame ? The treasure of 'Forty-Eight A lurking jail-bird stole, She can but watch and wait As the swift sure seasons roll. [33J WANDERLIEDER And when in God's good hour Comes the time of the brave and true, Freedom again shall rise With a blaze in her awful eyes That shall wither this robber-power As the sun now dries the dew. This Place shall roar with the voice Of the glad triumphant people, And the heavens be gay with the chimes Ringing with jubilant noise From every clamorous steeple The coming of better times. And the dawn of Freedom waking Shall fling its splendors far Like the day which now is breaking On the great pale Arch of the Star, And back o'er the town shall fly, While the joy-bells wild are ringing, To crown the Glory springing From the Column of July ! THE SPHINX OF THE TUILERIES OUT of the Latin Quarter I came to the lofty door Where the two marble Sphinxes guard The Pavilion de Flore. Two Cockneys stood by the gate, and one Observed, as they turned to go, "No wonder He likes that sort of thing, He's a Sphinx himself, you know." I thought as I walked where the garden glowed In the sunset's level fire, Of the Charlatan whom the Frenchmen loathe And the Cockneys all admire. They call him a Sphinx, it pleases him, And if we narrowly read, We will find some truth in the flunkey's praise, The man is a Sphinx indeed. [35J. WANDERLIEDER For the Sphinx with breast of woman And face so debonair Had the sleek false paws of a lion, That could furtively seize and tear. So far to the shoulders, but if you took The Beast in reverse you would find The ignoble form of a craven cur Was all that lay behind. She lived by giving to simple folk A silly riddle to read, And when they failed she drank their blood In cruel and ravenous greed. But at last came one who knew her word, And she perished in pain and shame, This bastard Sphinx leads the same base life And his end will be the same. For an (Edipus-People is coming fast With swelled feet limping on, If they shout his true name once aloud His false foul power is gone. [361 THE SPHINX OF THE TUILERIES Afraid to fight and afraid to fly, He cowers in an abject shiver; The people will come to their own at last, God is not mocked forever. G1258 THE SURRENDER OF SPAIN LAND of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campe- ador! Sea-girdled mother of men! Spain, name of glory and power; Cradle of world-grasping Emperors, grave of the reck- less invader, How art thou fallen, my Spain! how art thou sunk at this hour! II Once thy magnanimous sons trod, victors, the portals of Asia, Once the Pacific waves rushed, joyful thy banners to see; For it was Trajan that carried the battle-flushed eagles to Dacia, Cortes that planted thy flag fast by the uttermost sea. 1381 THE SURRENDER OF SPAIN m Hast thou forgotten those days illumined with glory and honor, When the far isles of the sea thrilled to the tread of Castile? When every land under Heaven was flecked by the shade of thy banner, When every beam of the sun flashed on thy conquering steel? IV Then through red fields of slaughter, through death and defeat and disaster, Still flared thy banner aloft, tattered, but free from a stain, Now to the upstart Savoyard thou bendest to beg for a master! How the red flush of her shame mars the proud beauty of Spain! [39] WANDERLIEDER Has the red blood run cold that boiled by the Xenil and Darro ? Are the high deeds of the sires sung to the children no more? On the dun hills of the North hast thou heard of no plough-boy Pizarro ? Roams no young swine-herd Cortes hid by the Tagus* wild shore ? VI Once again does Hispania bend low to the yoke of the stranger ! Once again will she rise, flinging her gyves in the sea! Princeling of Piedmont! unwitting thou weddest with doubt and with danger, King over men who have learned all that it costs to be free. THE PRAYER OF THE ROMANS NOT done, but near its ending, Is the work that our eyes desired; Not yet fulfilled, but near the goal, Is the hope that our worn hearts fired. And on the Alban Mountains, Where the blushes of dawn increase, We see the flash of the beautiful feet Of Freedom and of Peace! How long were our fond dreams baffled! Novara's sad mischance, The Kaiser's sword and fetter-lock, And the traitor stab of France; Till at last came glorious Venice, In storm and tempest home; And now God maddens the greedy kings, And gives to her people Rome. [411 WANDERLIEDER Lame Lion of Caprera ! Red-shirts of the lost campaigns! Not idly shed was the costly blood You poured from generous veins. For the shame of Aspromonte, And the stain of Mentana's sod, But forged the curse of kings that sprang From your breaking hearts to God ! We lift our souls to thee, O Lord Of Liberty and of Light! Let not earth's kings pollute the work That was done in their despite; Let not thy light be darkened In the shade of a sordid crown, Nor pampered swine devour the fruit Thou shook'st with an earthquake down! Let the People come to their birthright, And crosier and crown pass away Like phantasms that flit o'er the marshes At the glance of the clean, white day. [421 THE PRAYER OF THE ROMANS And then from the lava of JStna To the ice of the Alps let there be One freedom, one faith without fetters, One republic in Italy free! THE CURSE OF HUNGARY KING SALOMAN looked from his donjon bars, Where the Danube clamors through sedge and sand, And he cursed with a curse his revolting land, With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. He said: "May this false land know no truth! May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, And a greed of glory but live to nourish Envy and hate in its restless youth. "In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust, While the sword grows bright with its fatal labor, And blackens between each man and neighbor The perilous cloud of a vague distrust! "Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, And each to the other as unknown things, That with links of hatred and pride the kings May forge firm fetters through each for all! [44] THE CURSE OF HUNGARY "May a king wrong them as they wronged their king! May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, And to women and monks their birthright fling!" The mad king died; but the rushing river Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands That the curse of King Saloman works forever. For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts, A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears ! And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. And latest they saw in the summer glare The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, [45] WANDERLIEDER To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. But ever the same sad play they saw, The same weak worship of sword and crown, The noble crushing the humble down, And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law. The donjon stands by the turbid river, But Time is crumbling its battered towers; And the slow light withers a despot's powers, And a mad king's curse is not forever! THE MONKS OF BASLE I TORE this weed from the rank, dark soil Where it grew in the monkish time, I trimmed it close and set it again In a border of modern rhyme. Long years ago, when the Devil was loose And faith was sorely tried, Three monks of Basle went out to walk In the quiet eventide. A breeze as pure as the breath of Heaven Blew fresh through the cloister-shades, A sky as glad as the smile of Heaven Blushed rose o'er the minster-glades. But scorning the lures of summer and sense, The monks passed on in their walk; [47] WANDERLIEDER Their eyes were abased, their senses slept, Their souls were in their talk. In the tough grim talk of the monkish days They hammered and slashed about, Dry husks of logic, old scraps of creed, And the cold gray dreams of doubt, And whether Just or Justified Was the Church's mystic Head, And whether the Bread was changed to God, Or God became the Bread. But of human hearts outside their walls They never paused to dream, And they never thought of the love of God That smiled in the twilight gleam. ii As these three monks went bickering on By the foot of a spreading tree, [48] THE MONKS OF BASLE Out from its heart of verdurous gloom A song burst wild and free, A wordless carol of life and love, Of nature free and wild; And the three monks paused in the evening shade, Looked up at each other and smiled. And tender and gay the bird sang on, And cooed and whistled and trilled, And the wasteful wealth of life and love From his happy heart was spilled. The song had power on the grim old monks In the light of the rosy skies; And as they listened the years rolled back, And tears came into their eyes. The years rolled back and they were young, With the hearts and hopes of men, They plucked the daisies and kissed the girls Of dear dead summers again. [49] WANDERLIEDER in But the eldest monk soon broke the spell; " T is sin and shame," quoth he, "To be turned from talk of holy things By a bird's cry from a tree. "Perchance the Enemy of Souls Hath come to tempt us so. Let us try by the power of the Awful Word If it be he, or no!" To Heaven the three monks raised their hands. "We charge thee, speak!" they said, "By His dread Name who shall one day come To judge the quick and the dead, "Who art thou? Speak!" The bird laughed loud. "I am the Devil," he said. The monks on their faces fell, the bird Away through the twilight sped. 150] THE MONKS OF BASLE A horror fell on those holy men, (The faithful legends say,) And one by one from the face of earth They pined and vanished away. IV So goes the tale of the monkish books, The moral who runs may read, He has no ears for Nature's voice Whose soul is the slave of creed. Not all in vain with beauty and love Has God the world adorned; And he who Nature scorns and mocks, By Nature is mocked and scprned. THE ENCHANTED SHIRT Fytte the First: wherein it shall be shown how the Truth it too mighty a Drug for such as be of feeble temper THE King was sick. His cheek was red And his eye was clear and bright; He ate and drank with a kingly zest, And peacefully snored at night. But he said he was sick, and a king should know, And doctors came by the score. They did not cure him. He cut off their heads And sent to the schools for more. At last two famous doctors came, And one was as poor as a rat, He had passed his life in studious toil, And never found time to grow fat. The other had never looked in a book; His patients gave him no trouble, [52] THE ENCHANTED SHIRT If they recovered they paid him well, If they died their heirs paid double. Together they looked at the royal tongue, As the King on his couch reclined; In succession they thumped his august chest, But no trace of disease could find. The old sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." "Hang him up," roared the King in a gale, In a ten-knot gale of royal rage; The other leech grew a shade pale; But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, And thus his prescription ran, The King will be well, if he sleeps one niglti In the Shirt of a Happy Man. Fytte the Second: tells of the search for the Shirt and how it was nigh found but was not, for reasons which are said or sung t Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, And fast their horses ran, [ 53 1 WANDERLIEDER And many they saw, and to many they spoke, But they found no Happy Man. They found poor men who would fain be rich, And rich who thought they were poor; And men who twisted their waists in stays, And women that shorthose wore. They saw two men by the roadside sit, And both bemoaned their lot; For one had buried his wife, he said, And the other one had not. At last as they came to a village gate, A beggar lay whistling there; * He whistled and sang and laughed and rolled On the grass in the soft June air. The weary couriers paused and looked At the scamp so blithe and gay; And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend! You seem to be happy to-day." [54] THE ENCHANTED SHIRT "Oh, yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed, And his voice rang free and glad, "An idle man has so much to do That he never has time to be sad." "This is our man," the courier said; "Our luck has led us aright. I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, For the loan of your shirt to-night." The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, And laughed till his face was black; "I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the fun, "But I have n't a shirt to my back." lytte the Third: shewing how His Majesty the King came at last to sleep in a Happy Man his Shirt Each day to the King the reports came in Of his unsuccessful spies, And the sad panorama of human woes Passed daily under his eyes. [551 WANDERLIEDER And he grew ashamed of his useless life, And his maladies hatched in gloom; He opened his windows and let the air , Of the free heaven into his room. And out he went in the world and toiled In his own appointed way; And the people blessed him, the land was glad, And the King was well and gay. A WOMAN'S LOVE A SENTINEL angel sitting high in glory Heard this shrill wail ring out from Purgatory: "Have mercy, mighty angel, hear my story! "I loved, and, blind with passionate love, I fell. Love brought me down to death, and death to Hell. For God is just, and death for sin is well. "I do not rage against his high decree, Nor for myself do ask that grace shall be; But for my love on earth who mourns for me. "Great Spirit! Let me see my love again And comfort him one hour, and I were fain To pay a thousand years of fire and pain." Then said the pitying angel, "Nay, repent That wild vow! Look, the dial-finger's bent Down to the last hour of thy punishment!" [57J WANDERLIEDER But still she wailed, "I pray thee, let me go! I cannot rise to peace and leave him so. Oh, let me soothe him in his bitter woe! " The brazen gates ground sullenly ajar, And upward, joyous, like a rising star, She rose and vanished in the ether far. But soon adown the dying sunset sailing, And like a wounded bird her pinions trailing, She fluttered back, with broken-hearted wailing. She sobbed, "I found him by the summer sea Reclined, his head upon a maiden's knee, She curled his hair and kissed him. Woe is me!' She wept, "Now let my punishment begin! I have been fond and foolish. Let me in To expiate my sorrow and my sin." The angel answered, "Nay, sad soul, go higher! To be deceived in your true heart's desire Was bitterer than a thousand years of fire! " ON PITZ LANGUARD I STOOD on the top of Pitz Languard, And heard three voices whispering low, Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward Made swift dark shadows upon the snow. FIRST VOICE I loved a girl with truth and pain, She loved me not. When she said good-by She gave me a kiss to sting and stain My broken life to a rosy dye. SECOND VOICE I loved a woman with love well tried, And I swear I believe she loves me still. But it was not I who stood by her side When she answered the priest and said "I will." [59] WANDERLIEDER THIRD VOICE I loved two girls, one fond, one shy, And I never divined which one loved me. \ One married, and now, though I can't tell why, Of the four in the story I count but three. The three weird voices whispered low Where the eagles swept in their circling ward; But only one shadow scarred the snow As I clambered down from Pitz Languard. BOUDOIR PROPHECIES ONE day in the Tuileries, When a southwest Spanish breeze Brought scandalous news of the Queen, The fair proud Empress said, 'My good friend loses her head; If matters go on this way, I shall see her shopping, some day, In the Boulevard des Capucines." The saying swiftly went To the Place of the Orient, And the stout Queen sneered, "Ah, well! You are proud and prude, ma belle! But I think I will hazard a guess I shall see you one day playing chess With the Cure of Carabanchel." Both ladies, though not over-wise, Were lucky in prophecies. [61 1 WANDERLIEDER For the Boulevard shopmen well Know the form of stout Isabel As she buys her modes de Paris; And after Sedan in despair The Empress prude and fair Went to visit Madame sa Mere In her villa at Carabanchel But the Queen was not there to see. A TRIUMPH OF ORDER A SQUAD of regular infantry In the Commune's closing days, Had captured a crowd of rebels By the wall of Pere-la-Chaise. There were desperate men, wild women, And dark-eyed Amazon girls, And one little boy, with a peach-down cheek And yellow clustering curls. The captain seized the little waif, And said, "What dost thou here?" 'Sapristi, Citizen captain! I'm a Communist, my dear!" 'Very well! Then you die with the others!" - " Very well ! That 's my affair ; But first let me take to my mother, Who lives by the wine-shop there, [631 WANDERLIEDER "My father's watch. You see it; A gay old thing, is it not ? It would please the old lady to have it, Then I'll come back here, and be shot.'* "That is the last we shall see of him," The grizzled captain grinned, As the little man skimmed down the hill, Like a swallow down the wind. For the joy of killing had lost its zest In the glut of those awful days, And Death writhed, gorged like a greedy snake, From the Arch to Pere-la-Chaise. But before the last platoon had fired, The child's shrill voice was heard; "Houp-la! the old girl made such a row I feared I should break my word." Against the bullet-pitted wall He took his place with the rest, [64] A TRIUMPH OF ORDER A button was lost from his ragged blouse, Which showed his soft white breast. 'Now blaze away, my children! With your little one-two-three!" The Chassepots tore the stout young heart, And saved Society. ERNST OF EDELSHEIM I'LL tell the story, kissing This white hand for my pains : No sweeter heart, nor falser E'er filled such fine, blue veins. I'll sing a song of true love, My Lilith dear! to you; Contraria contrariis The rule is old and true. The happiest of all lovers Was Ernst of Edelsheim; And why he was the happiest, I '11 tell you in my rhyme. One summer night he wandered Within a lonely glade, And, couched in moss and moonlight, He found a sleeping maid. [66] ERNST OF EDELSHEIM The stars of midnight sifted Above her sands of gold; She seemed a slumbering statue, So fair and white and cold. Fair and white and cold she lay Beneath the starry skies; Rosy was her waking Beneath the Ritter's eyes. He won her drowsy fancy, He bore her to his towers, And swift with love and laughter Flew morning's purpled hours. But when the thickening sunbeams Had drunk the gleaming dew, A misty cloud of sorrow Swept o'er her eyes' deep blue. She hung upon the Ritter's neck, She wept with love and pain, [ 67 ] WANDERLIEDER She showered her sweet, warm kisses Like fragrant summer rain. "I am no Christian soul," she sobbed, As in his arms she lay; "I'm half the day a woman, A serpent half the day. "And when from yonder bell- tower Rings out the noonday chime, Farewell ! farewell forever, Sir Ernst of Edelsheim!" "Ah! not farewell forever!" The Ritter wildly cried, "I will be saved or lost with thee, My lovely Wili-Bride!" Loud from the lordly bell-tower Rang out the noon of day, And from the bower of roses A serpent slid away. [68] ERNST OF EDELSHEIM But when the mid-watch moonlight Was shimmering through the grove, He clasped his bride thrice dowered With beauty and with love. The happiest of all lovers Was Ernst of Edelsheim His true love was a serpent Only half the time! MY CASTLE IN SPAIN THERE was never a castle seen So fair as mine in Spain: It stands embowered in green, Crowning the gentle slope Of a hill by the Xenil's shore, And at eve its shade flaunts o'er The storied Vega plain, And its towers are hid in the mists of Hope; And I toil through years of pain Its glimmering gates to gain. In visions wild and sweet Sometimes its courts I greet: Sometimes in joy its shining halls I tread with favored feet; But never my eyes in the light of day Were blest with its ivied walls, [70] MY CASTLE IN SPAIN Where the marble white and the granite gray Turn gold alike when the sunbeams play, When the soft day dimly falls. I know in its dusky rooms Are treasures rich and rare; The spoil of Eastern looms, And whatever of bright and fair Painters divine have caught and won From the vault of Italy's air: White gods hi Phidian stone People the haunted glooms; And the song of immortal singers Like a fragrant memory lingers, I know, in the echoing rooms. But nothing of these, my soul! Nor castle, nor treasures, nor skies, Nor the waves of the river that roll With a cadence faint and sweet In peace by its marble feet [711 WANDERLIEDEB Nothing of these is the goal For which my whole heart sighs. 'T is the pearl gives worth to the shell The pearl I would die to gain; For there does my lady dwell, My love that I love so well The Queen whose gracious reign Makes glad my Castle in Spain. Her face so pure and fair Sheds light in the shady places, And the spell of her girlish graces Holds charmed the happy air. A breath of purity Forever before her flies, And ill things cease to be In the glance of her honest eyes. Around her pathway flutter, Where her dear feet wander free In youth's pure majesty, The wings of the vague desires; [72J MY CASTLE IN SPAIN But the thought that love would utter In reverence expires. Not yet ! not yet shall I see That face which shines like a star O'er my storm-swept life afar, Transfigured with love for me. Toiling, forgetting, and learning With labor and vigils and prayers, Pure heart and resolute will, At last I shall climb the hill And breathe the enchanted airs Where the light of my life is burning Most lovely and fair and free, Where alone in her youth and beauty, And bound by her fate's sweet duty, Unconscious she waits for me. SISTER SAINT LUKE SHE lived shut in by flowers and trees And shade of gentle bigotries. On this side lay the trackless sea, On that the great world's mystery; But all unseen and all unguessed They could not break upon her rest. The world's far splendors gleamed and flashed, Afar the wild seas foamed and dashed; But in her small, dull Paradise, y Safe housed from rapture or surprise, Nor day nor night had power to fright The peace of God that filled her eyes. [74] NEW AND OLD MILES KEOGH'S HORSE ON the bluff of the Little Big-Horn, At the close of a woful day, Custer and his Three Hundred In death and silence lay. Three Hundred to three Thousand! They had bravely fought and bled; For such is the will of Congress When the White man meets the Red. The White men are ten millions, The thriftiest under the sun; The Reds are fifty thousand, And warriors every one. So Custer and all his fighting men Lay under the evening skies, Staring up at the tranquil heaven With wide, accusing eyes. [771 NEW AND OLD And of all that stood at noonday In that fiery scorpion ring, Miles Keogh's horse at evening Was the only living thing. Alone from that field of slaughter, Where lay the three hundred slain, The horse Comanche wandered, With Keogh's blood on his mane. And Sturgis issued this order, Which future times shall read, While the love and honor of comrades Are the soul of the soldier's creed. He said Let the horse Comanche Henceforth till he shall die, Be kindly cherished and cared for By the Seventh Cavalry. [78J MILES KEOGH'S HORSE He shall do no labor ; he never shall know The touch of spur or rein ; Nor shall his back be ever crossed By living rider again. And at regimental formation Of the Seventh Cavalry, Comanche draped in mourning and led By a trooper of Company I, Shall parade with the Regiment I Thus it was Commanded and thus done, By order of General Sturgis, signed By Adjutant Garlington. Even as the sword of Custer, In his disastrous fall, Flashed out a blaze that charmed the world And glorified his pall, [79] NEW AND OLD This order, issued amid the gloom That shrouds our army's name, When all foul beasts are free to rend And tear its honest fame, Shall prove to a callous people That the sense of a soldier's worth, That the love of comrades, the honor of arms, Have not yet perished from earth. THE ADVANCE GUARD IN the dream of the Northern poets, The brave who in battle die Fight on in shadowy phalanx In the field of the upper sky; And as we read the sounding rhyme, The reverent fancy hears The ghostly ring of the viewless swords And the clash of the spectral spears. We think with imperious questionings Of the brothers whom we have lost, And we strive to track in death's mystery The flight of each valiant ghost. The Northern myth comes back to us, And we feel, through our sorrow's night, That those young souls are striving still Somewhere for the truth and light. [81 ] NEW AND OLD It was not their time for rest and sleep; Their hearts beat high and strong; In their fresh veins the blood of youth Was singing its hot, sweet song. The open heaven bent over them, Mid flowers their lithe feet trod, Their lives lay vivid in light, and blest By the smiles of women and God. Again they come! Again I hear The tread of that goodly band; I know the flash of Ellsworth's eye And the grasp of his hard, warm hand; And Putnam, and Shaw, of the lion-heart, And an eye like a Boston girl's; And I see the light of heaven which lay On Ulric Dahlgren's curls. There is no power in the gloom of hell To quench those spirits' fire; There is no power in the bliss of heaven To bid them not aspire; [82] THE ADVANCE GUARD But somewhere in the eternal plan That strength, that life survive, And like the files on Lookout's crest, Above death's clouds they strive. A chosen corps, they are marching on In a wider field than ours; Those bright battalions still f ulfill The scheme of the heavenly powers; And high brave thoughts float down to us, The echoes of that far fight, Like the flash of a distant picket's gun Through the shades of the severing night. No fear for them ! In our lower field Let us keep our arms unstained, That at last we be worthy to stand with them On the shining heights they 've gained. We shall meet and greet in closing ranks In Time's declining sun, When the bugles of God shall sound recall And the battle of life be won. LOVE'S PRAYER IF Heaven would hear my prayer, My dearest wish would be, Thy sorrows not to share But take them all on me; If Heaven would hear my prayer. I'd beg with prayers and sighs That never a tear might flow From out thy lovely eyes, If Heaven might grant it so; Mine be the tears and sighs. No cloud thy brow should cover, But smiles each other chase From lips to eyes all over Thy sweet and sunny face; The clouds my heart should cover. [84J LOVE'S PRAYER That all thy path be light Let darkness fall on me; If all thy days be bright, Mine black as night could be; My love would light my night. For thou art more than life, And if our fate should set Life and my love at strife, How could I then forget I love thee more than life ? CHRISTINE THE beauty of the northern dawns, Their pure, pale light is thine; Yet all the dreams of tropic nights Within thy blue eyes shine. Not statelier in their prisoning seas The icebergs grandly move, But in thy smile is youth and joy, And in thy voice is love. Thou art like Hecla's crest that stands So lonely, proud, and high, No earthly thing may come between Her summit and the sky. The sun in vain may strive to melt Her crown of virgin snow But the great heart of the mountain glows With deathless fire below. EXPECTATION ROLL on, O shining sun, To the far seas, Bring down, ye shades of eve, The soft, salt breeze! Shine out, O stars, and light My darling's pathway bright, As through the summer night She comes to me. No beam of any star Can match her eyes; Her smile the bursting day In light outvies. Her voice the sweetest thing Heard by the raptured spring When waking wild-woods ring She comes to me. [87] NEW AND OLD Ye stars, more swiftly wheel, O'er earth's still breast; More wildly plunge and reel In the dim west! The earth is lone and lorn, Till the glad day be born, Till with the happy morn She comes to me. TO FLORA WHEN April woke the drowsy flowers, And vagrant odors thronged the breeze, And bluebirds wrangled in the bowers, And daisies flashed along the leas, And faint arbutus strove among Dead winter's leaf-strewn wreck to rise, And nature's sweetly jubilant song Went murmuring up the sunny skies, Into this cheerful world you came, And gained by right your vernal name. I think the springs have changed of late, For "Arctics" are my daily wear, The skies are turned to cold gray slate, And zephyrs are but draughts of air; But you make up whate'er we lack, When we, too rarely, come together, More potent than the almanac, You bring the ideal April weather; [89] NEW AND OLD When you are with us we defy The blustering air, the lowering sky; In spite of Winter's icy darts, We Ve spring and sunshine in our hearts. In fine, upon this April day, This deep conundrum I will bring: Tell me the two good reasons, pray, I have, to say you are like spring ? You give it up ? Because we love you And see so very little of you. A HAUNTED ROOM IN the dim chamber whence but yesterday Passed my beloved, filled with awe I stand; And haunting Loves fluttering on every hand Whisper her praises who is far away. A thousand delicate fancies glance and play On every object which her robes have fanned, And tenderest thoughts and hopes bloom and expand In the sweet memory of her beauty's ray. Ah ! could that glass but hold the faintest trace Of all the loveliness once mirrored there, The clustering glory of the shadowy hair That framed so well the dear young angel face! But no, it shows my own face, full of care, And my heart is her beauty's dwelling-place. [91 1 DREAMS I LOVE a woman tenderly, But cannot know if she loves me. I press her hand, her lips I kiss, But still love's full assurance miss. Our waking life forever seems Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams. But love and night and sleep combine In dreams to make her wholly mine. A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, Her hands and lips are warm and true. Always the fact unreal seems, And truth I find alone in dreams. [921 THE LIGHT OF LOVE EACH shining light above us Has its own peculiar grace; But every light of heaven Is in my darling's face. For it is like the sunlight, So strong and pure and warm, That folds all good and happy things, And guards from gloom and harm. And it is like the moonlight, So holy and so calm; The rapt peace of a summer night, When soft winds die in balm. And it is like the starlight; For, love her as I may, She dwells still lofty and serene In mystery far away. [93] QUAND MEME I STROVE, like Israel, with my youth, And said, Till thou bestow Upon my life Love's joy and truth, I will not let thee go. And sudden on my night there woke The trouble of the dawn; Out of the east the red light broke, To broaden on and on. And now let death be far or nigh, Let fortune gloom or shine, I cannot all untimely die, For love, for love is mine. My days are tuned to finer chords, And lit by higher suns; [94] QUAND MME Through all my thoughts and all my words A purer purpose runs. The blank page of my heart grows rife With wealth of tender lore; Her image, stamped upon my life, Gives value evermore. She is so noble, firm, and true, I drink truth from her eyes, As violets gain the heaven's own blue In gazing at the skies. No matter if my hands attain The golden crown or cross; Only to love is such a gain That losing is not loss. And thus whatever fate betide Of rapture or of pain, If storm or sun the future hide, My love is not in vain. [95] NEW AND OLD So only thanks are on my lips; And through my love I see My earliest dreams, like freighted ships, Come sailing home to me. WORDS WHEN violets were springing And sunshine filled the day, And happy birds were singing The praises of the May, A word came to me, blighting The beauty of the scene, And in my heart was winter, Though all the trees were green. Now down the blast go sailing The dead leaves, brown and sere; The forests are bewailing The dying of the year; A word comes to me, lighting With rapture all the air, And in my heart is summer, Though all the trees are bare. [97] THE STIRRUP CUP MY short and happy day is done, The long and dreary night comes on; And at my door the Pale Horse stands, To carry me to unknown lands. His whinny shrill, his pawing hoof, Sound dreadful as a gathering storm; And I must leave this sheltering roof, And joys of life so soft and warm. Tender and warm the joys of life, Good friends, the faithful and the true; My rosy children and my wife, So sweet to kiss, so fair to view. So sweet to kiss, so fair to view, s The night comes down, the lights burn blue; And at my door the Pale Horse stands, To bear me forth to unknown lands. [98] A DREAM OF BRIC-X-BRAC [C. K. loquitur.] I DREAMED I was in fair Niphon. Amid tea-fields I journeyed on, Reclined in my jinrikishaw; Across the rolling plains I saw The lordly Fusi-yama rise, His blue cone lost in bluer skies. At last I bade my bearers stop Before what seemed a china-shop. I roused myself and entered in. A fearful joy, like some sweet sin, Pierced through my bosom as I gazed, Entranced, transported, and amazed. For all the house was but one room, And in its clear and grateful gloom, Filled with all odors strange and strong That to the wondrous East belong, [99] NEW AND OLD I saw above, around, below, A sight to make the warm heart glow, And leave the eager soul no lack, An endless wealth of bric-a-brac. I saw bronze statues, old and rare, Fashioned by no mere mortal skill, With robes that fluttered in the air, Blown out by Art's eternal will; And delicate ivory netsukes, Richer in tone than Cheddar cheese, Of saints and hermits, cats and dogs, Grim warriors and ecstatic frogs. And here and there those wondrous masks, More living flesh than sandal-wood, Where the full soul in pleasure basks And dreams of love, the only good. The walls were all with pictures hung: Gay villas bright in rain-washed air, ?, Trees to whose boughs brown monkeys clung, Outlineless dabs of fuzzy hair. [100] A DREAM OF BRIC-A-BRAC And all about the opulent shelves Littered with porcelain beyond price: Imari pots arrayed themselves Beside Ming dishes; grain-of-rice Vied with the Royal Satsuma, Proud of its sallow ivory beam; And Kaga's Thousand Hermits lay * Tranced in some punch-bowl's golden gleam. Over bronze censers, black with age, The five-clawed dragons strife engage; A curled and insolent Dog of Foo Sniffs at the smoke aspiring through. In what old days, in what far lands, What busy brains, what cunning hands, With what quaint speech, what alien thought, Strange fellow-men these marvels wrought! As thus I mused, I was aware There grew before my eager eyes A little maid too bright and fair, Too strangely lovely for surprise. f 101 1 NEW AND OLD It seemed the beauty of the place Had suddenly become concrete, So full was she of Orient grace, From her slant eyes and burnished face Down to her little gold-bronze feet. She was a girl of old Japan; Her small hand held a gilded fan, Which scattered fragrance through the room; Her cheek was rich with pallid bloom, Her eye was dark with languid fire, Her red lips breathed a vague desire; Her teeth, of pearl inviolate, Sweetly proclaimed her maiden state. Her garb was stiff with broidered gold Twined with mysterious fold on fold, That gave no hint where, hidden well, Her dainty form might warmly dwell, A pearl within too large a shell. So quaint, so short, so lissome, she, It seemed as if it well might be [ 1021 A DREAM OF BRIC-A-BRAC Some jocose god, with sportive whirl, Had taken up a long lithe girl And tied a graceful knot in her. I tried to speak, and found, oh, bliss! I needed no interpreter; I knew the Japanese for kiss, I had no other thought but this; And she, with smile and blush divine, Kind to my stammering prayer did seem; My thought was hers, and hers was mine, In the swift logic of my dream. My arms clung round her slender waist, Through gold and silk the form I traced, And glad as rain that follows drouth, I kissed and kissed her bright red mouth. What ailed the girl? No loving sigh Heaved the round bosom; in her eye Trembled no tear; from her dear throat Bubbled a sweet and silvery note [ 103 ] NEW AND OLD Of girlish laughter, shrill and clear, That all the statues seemed to hear The bronzes tinkled laughter fine; I heard a chuckle argentine Ring from the silver images; Even the ivory netsukes Uttered in every silent pause Dry, bony laughs from tiny jaws; The painted monkeys on the wall Waked up with chatter impudent; Pottery, porcelain, bronze, and all Broke out in ghostly merriment, Faint as rain pattering on dry leaves, Or cricket's chirp on summer eves. And suddenly upon my sight There grew a portent: left and right, On every side, as if the air Had taken substance then and there, In every sort of form and face, A throng of tourists filled the place. [ 1041 A DREAM OF BRIC-A-BRAC I saw a Frenchman's sneering shrug; A German countess, in one hand A sky-blue string which held a pug, With the other a fiery face she fanned; A Yankee with a soft felt hat; A Coptic priest from Ararat; An English girl with cheeks of rose; A Nihilist with Socratic nose; Paddy from Cork with baggage light And pockets stuffed with dynamite; A haughty Southern Readjuster Wrapped in his pride and linen duster; Two noisy New York stock-brokers And twenty British globe-trotters. To my disgust and vast surprise They turned on me lack-lustre eyes, And each with dropped and wagging jaw Burst out into a wild guffaw: They laughed with huge mouths opened wide; They roared till each one held his side; [ 105] NEW AND OLD They screamed and writhed with brutal glee, With fingers rudely stretched to me, Till lo! at once the laughter died, The tourists faded into air; None but my fair maid lingered there, Who stood demurely by my side. "Who were your friends?" I asked the maid, Taking a tea-cup from its shelf. "This audience is disclosed," she said, "Whenever a man makes a fool of himself." LIBERTY WHAT man is there so bold that he should say 'Thus, and thus only, would I have the sea"? For whether lying calm and beautiful, Clasping the earth in love, and throwing back The smile of heaven from waves of amethyst; Or whether, freshened by the busy winds, It bears the trade and navies of the world To ends of use or stern activity; Or whether, lashed by tempests, it gives way To elemental fury, howls and roars At all its rocky barriers, in wild lust Of ruin drinks the blood of living things, And strews its wrecks o'er leagues of desolate shore, Always it is the sea, and men bow down Before its vast and varied majesty. So all in vain will timorous ones essay To set the metes and bounds of Liberty. [ 107] NEW AND OLD For Freedom is its own eternal law; It makes its own conditions, and in storm Or calm alike fulfills the unerring Will. Let us not then despise it when it lies Still as a sleeping lion, while a swarm Of gnat-like evils hover round its head; Nor doubt it when in mad, disjointed times It shakes the torch of terror, and its cry Shrills o'er the quaking earth, and in the flame Of riot and war we see its awful form Rise by the scaffold, where the crimson axe Rings down its grooves the knell of shuddering kings. Forever in thine eyes, O Liberty, Shines that high light whereby the world is saved, And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee! THE WHITE FLAG I SENT my love two roses, one As white as driven snow, And one a blushing royal red, A flaming Jacqueminot. I meant to touch and test my fate; That night I should divine, The moment I should see my love, If her true heart were mine. / For if she holds me dear, I said, She'll wear my blushing rose; If not, she '11 wear my cold Lamarque, As white as winter's snows. My heart sank when I met her: sure I had been overbold, For on her breast my pale rose lay In virgin whiteness cold. [ 109 ] NEW AND OLD Yet with low words she greeted me, With smiles divinely tender; Upon her cheek the red rose dawned, The white rose meant surrender. THE LAW OF DEATH THE song of Kilvani: fairest she In all the land of Savatthi. She had one child, as sweet and gay And dear to her as the light of day. She was so young, and he so fair, The same bright eyes and the same dark hair; To see them by the blossomy way, They seemed two children at their play. There came a death-dart from the sky, Kilvani saw her darling die. The glimmering shade his eyes invades, Out of his cheek the red bloom fades; His warm heart feels the icy chill, The round limbs shudder, and are still. And yet Kilvani held him fast Long after life's last pulse was past, As if her kisses could restore The smile gone out forevermore. I HI 1 NEW AND OLD But when she saw her child was dead, She scattered ashes on her head, And seized the small corpse, pale and sweet, And rushing wildly through the street, She sobbing fell at Buddha's feet. 'Master, all-helpful, help me now! Here at thy feet I humbly bow; Have mercy, Buddha, help me now!" She groveled on the marble floor, And kissed the dead child o'er and o'er. And suddenly upon the air There fell the answer to her prayer: 'Bring me to-night a lotus tied With thread from a house where none has died. She rose, and laughed with thankful joy, Sure that the god would save the boy. She found a lotus by the stream; She plucked it from its noonday dream. And then from door to door she fared, To ask what house by Death was spared. I 112] THE LAW OF DEATH Her heart grew cold to see the eyes Of all dilate with slow surprise: 'Kilvani, thou hast lost thy head; Nothing can help a child that's dead. There stands not by the Ganges' side A house where none hath ever died." Thus, through the long and weary day, From every door she bore away Within her heart, and on her arm, A heavier load, a deeper harm. By gates of gold and ivory, By wattled huts of poverty, The same refrain heard poor Kilvani, The living are few, the dead are many. The evening came so still and fleet And overtook her hurrying feet. And, heartsick, by the sacred fane She fell, and prayed the god again. She sobbed and beat her bursting breast: 'Ah, thou hast mocked me, Mightiest! [1131 NEW AND OLD Lo I have wandered far and wide; There stands no house where none hath died.' And Buddha answered, in a tone Soft as a flute at twilight blown, But grand as heaven and strong as death To him who hears with ears of faith: 'Child, thou art answered. Murmur not! Bow, and accept the common lot." Kilvani heard with reverence meet, And laid her child at Buddha's feet. MOUNT TABOR. ON Tabor's height a glory came, And, shrined in clouds of lambent Same, The awestruck, hushed disciples saw Christ and the prophets of the law. Moses, whose grand and awful face Of Sinai's thunder bore the trace, And wise Elias, in his eyes The shade of Israel's prophecies, Stood in that wide, mysterious light, Than Syrian noons more purely bright, One on each hand, and high between Shone forth the godlike Nazarene. They bowed their heads hi holy fright, No mortal eyes could bear the sight, And when they looked again, behold! The fiery clouds had backward rolled, And borne aloft in grandeur lonely, Nothing was left "save Jesus only." [ 115] NEW AND OLD Resplendent type of things to be! We read its mystery to-day With clearer eyes than even they, The fisher-saints of Galilee. We see the Christ stand out between The ancient law and faith serene, Spirit and letter; but above Spirit and letter both was Love. Led by the hand of Jacob's God, Through wastes of eld a path was trod By which the savage world could move Upward through law and faith to love. And there in Tabor's harmless flame The crowning revelation came. The old world knelt in homage due, The prophets near in reverence drew, Law ceased its mission to fulfill, And Love was lord on Tabor's hill. So now, while creeds perplex the mind And wranglings load the weary wind, [116] MOUNT TABOR When all the air is filled with words And texts that ring like clashing swords, Still, as for refuge, we may turn Where Tabor's shining glories burn, The soul of antique Israel gone, And nothing left but Christ alone. RELIGION AND DOCTRINE HE stood before the Sanhedrim; The scowling rabbis gazed at him. He recked not of their praise or blame; There was no fear, there was no shame, For one upon whose dazzled eyes The whole world poured its vast surprise. The open heaven was far too near, His first day's light too sweet and clear, To let him waste his new-gained ken On the hate-clouded face of men. But still they questioned, Who art thou? What hast thou been? What art thou now? Thou art not he who yesterday Sat here and begged beside the way; For he was blind. And I am he; For I was blind, but now I see. [ 118 1 RELIGION AND DOCTRINE He told the story o'er and o'er; It was his full heart's only lore: A prophet on the Sabbath-day Had touched his sightless eyes with clay, And made him see who had been blind. Their words passed by him like the wind, Which raves and howls, but cannot shock The hundred-fathom-rooted rock. Their threats and fury all went wide; They could not touch his Hebrew pride. Their sneers at Jesus and His band, Nameless and homeless in the land, Their boasts of Moses and his Lord, All could not change him by one word. / know not what this man may be, Sinner or saint; but as for me, One thing I know, that I am he Who once was blind, and now I see. [1191 NEW AND OLD They were all doctors of renown, The great men of a famous town, With deep brows, wrinkled, broad, and wise, Beneath their wide phylacteries; The wisdom of the East was theirs, And honor crowned their silver hairs. The man they jeered and laughed to scorn Was unlearned, poor, and humbly born; But he knew better far than they What came to him that Sabbath-day; And what the Christ had done for him He knew, and not the Sanhedrim. SINAI AND CALVARY THERE are two mountains hallowed By majesty sublime, Which rear their crests unconquered Above the floods of Time. Uncounted generations Have gazed on them with awe, The mountain of the Gospel, The mountain of the Law. From Sinai's cloud of darkness The vivid lightnings play; They serve the God of vengeance, The Lord who shall repay. Each fault must bring its penance, Each sin the avenging blade, For God upholds in justice The laws that He hath made. f 1211 NEW AND OLD But Calvary stands to ransom The earth from utter loss, In shade than light more glorious, The shadow of the Cross. To heal a sick world's trouble, To soothe its woe and pain, On Calvary's sacred summit The Paschal Lamb was slain. The boundless might of Heaven Its law in mercy furled, As once the bow of promise O'erarched a drowning world. The Law said, As you keep me, It shall be done to you; But Calvary prays, Forgive them; They know not what they do. Almighty God! direct us To keep Thy perfect Law! O blessed Saviour, help us Nearer to Thee to draw! [ 1221 SINAI AND CALVARY Let Sinai's thunders aid us To guard our feet from sin; And Calvary's light inspire us The love of God to win. THE VISION OF SAINT PETER To Peter by night the faithf ullest came And said, " We appeal to thee ! The life of the Church is in thy life; We pray thee to rise and flee. "For the tyrant's hand is red with blood, And his arm is heavy with power; Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall, If thou tarry in Rome an hour." Through the sleeping town Saint Peter passed To the wide Campagna plain; In the starry light of the Alban night He drew free breath again: When across his path an awful form In luminous glory stood; [124] THE VISION OF SAINT PETER His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet, Were wet with immortal blood. The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes Seemed changed to a godlike wrath, As they turned on Peter, who cried aloud, And sank to his knees in the path. "Lord of my life, my love, my soul! Say, what wilt Thou with me?" A voice replied, "I go to Rome To be crucified for thee." The apostle sprang, all flushed, to his feet, The vision had passed away; The light still lay on the dewy plain, But the sky in the east was gray. To the city walls Saint Peter turned, And his heart in his breast grew fire; In every vein the hot blood burned With the strength of one high desire. [ 125 ] NEW AND OLD And sturdily back he marched to his death Of terrible pain and shame; And never a shade of fear again To the stout apostle came. ISRAEL WHEN by Jabbok the patriarch waited To learn on the morrow his doom, And his dubious spirit debated In darkness and silence and gloom, There descended a Being with whom He wrestled in agony sore, With striving of heart and of brawn, And not for an instant forbore Till the east gave a threat of the dawn; And then, as the Awful One blessed him, To his lips and his spirit there came, Compelled by the doubts that oppressed him, The cry that through questioning ages Has been wrung from the hinds and the sages. "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" Most fatal, most futile, of questions ! Wherever the heart of man beats, [ 127] NEW AND OLD In the spirit's most sacred retreats, It comes with its sombre suggestions, Unanswered forever and aye. The blessing may come and may stay, For the wrestler's heroic endeavor; But the question, unheeded forever, Dies out in the broadening day. In the ages before our traditions, By the altars of dark superstitions, The imperious question has come; When the death-stricken victim lay sobbing At the feet of his slayer and priest, And his heart was laid smoking and throbbing To the sound of the cymbal and drum On the steps of the high Teocallis; When the delicate Greek at his feast Poured forth the red wine from his chalice With mocking and cynical prayer; When by Nile Egypt worshiping lay, And afar, through the rosy, flushed air [ 1281 ISRAEL The Memnon called out to the day; Where the Muezzin's cry floats from his spire: In the vaulted Cathedral's dun shades, Where the crushed hearts of thousands aspire Through art's highest miracles higher, This question of questions invades Each heart bowed in worship or shame; In the air where the censers are swinging, A voice, going up with the singing, Cries, "Tell me, I pray Thee, Thy name!" No answer came back, not a word, To the patriarch there by the ford; No answer has come through the ages To the poets, the seers, and the sages Who have sought in the secrets of science The name and the nature of God, Whether cursing in desperate defiance Or kissing his absolute rod. But the answer which was and shall be, 'My name! Nay, what is it to thee?" [ 129 ] ' NEW AND OLD The search and the question are vain. By use of the strength that is in you, By wrestling of soul and of sinew The blessing of God you may gain. There are lights in the far-gleaming Heaven That never will shine on our eyes; To mortals it may not be given To range those inviolate skies. The mind, whether praying or scorning, That tempts those dread secrets shall fail; But strive through the night till the morning, And mightily shalt thou prevail. THE CROWS AT WASHINGTON SLOW flapping to the setting sun By twos and threes, in wavering rows. As twilight shadows dimly close, The crows fly over Washington. Under the crimson sunset sky Virginian woodlands leafless lie, In wintry torpor bleak and dun. Through the rich vault of heaven, which shines Like a warmed opal in the sun, With wide advance in broken lines The crows fly over Washington. Over the Capitol's white dome, Across the obelisk soaring bare To prick the clouds, they travel home, Content and weary, winnowing With dusky vans the golden air, Which hints the coming of the spring, Though winter whitens Washington. [1311 NEW AND OLD The dim, deep air, the level ray Of dying sunlight on their plumes, Give them a beauty not their own; Their hoarse notes fail and faint away; A rustling murmur floating down Blends sweetly with the thickening glooms; They touch with grace the fading day, Slow flying over Washington. I stand and watch with clouded eyes These dim battalions move along; Out of the distance memory cries Of days when life and hope were strong, When love was prompt and wit was gay; Even then, at evening, as to-day, I watched, while twilight hovered dim Over Potomac's curving rim, This selfsame flight of homing crows Blotting the sunset's fading rose, Above the roofs of Washington. REMORSE SAD is the thought of sunniest days Of love and rapture perished, And shine through memory's tearful haze The eyes once fondliest cherished. Reproachful is the ghost of toys That charmed while life was wasted. But saddest is the thought of joys That never yet were tasted. Sad is the vague and tender dream Of dead love's lingering kisses, To crushed hearts haloed by the gleam Of unreturning blisses; Deep mourns the soul in anguished pride For the pitiless death that won them, But the saddest wail is for lips that died With the virgin dew upon them. [133 ] ESSE QUAM VIDERI THE knightly legend of thy shield betrays The moral of thy life; a forecast wise, And that large honor that deceit defies, Inspired thy fathers in the elder days, Who decked thy scutcheon with that sturdy phrase, To be rather than seem. As eve's red skies Surpass the morning's rosy prophecies, Thy life to that proud boast its answer pays. Scorning thy faith and purpose to defend The ever-mutable multitude at last Will hail the power they did not comprehend, Thy fame will broaden through the centuries; As, storm and billowy tumult overpast, The moon rules calmly o'er the conquered seas. [134 WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME THERE'S a happy time coming, When the boys come home. There's a glorious day coming, When the boys come home. We will end the dreadful story Of this treason dark and gory In a sunburst of glory, When the boys come home. The day will seem brighter When the boys come home, For our hearts will be lighter When the boys come home. Wives and sweethearts will press them In their arms and caress them, And pray God to bless them, When the boys come home. [ 135] NEW AND OLD The thinned ranks will be proudest When the boys come home, And their cheer will ring the loudest When the boys come home. The full ranks will be shattered, And the bright arms will be battered, And the battle-standards tattered, When the boys come home. Their bayonets may be rusty, When the boys come home, And their uniforms dusty, When the boys come home. But all shall see the traces Of battle's royal graces, In the brown and bearded faces, When the boys come home. Our love shall go to meet them, When the boys come home, To bless them and to greet them, When the boys come home; [ 1361 WHEN THE BOYS COME HOME And the fame of their endeavor Time and change shall not dissever From the nation's heart forever, When the boys come home. LESE-AMOTJR How well my heart remembers Beside these camp-fire embers The eyes that smiled so far away, The joy that was November's. Her voice to laughter moving, So merrily reproving, We wandered through the autumn woods And neither thought of loving. The hills with light were glowing, The waves in joy were flowing, It was not to the clouded sun The day's delight was owing. Though through the brown leaves straying, Our lives seemed gone a-Maying; We knew not Love was with us there, No look nor tone betraying. [ 138 1 L&SE-AMOUR How unbelief still misses The best of being's blisses! Our parting saw the first and last Of love's imagined kisses. Now 'mid these scenes the drearest I dream of her, the dearest, Whose eyes outshine the Southern stars, So far, and yet the nearest. And Love, so gayly taunted, Who died, no welcome granted, Comes to me now, a pallid ghost, By whom my life is haunted. With bonds I may not sever, He binds my heart forever, And leads me where we murdered him, The Hill beside the River. Camp Shaw, Florida, Februaiy, 1864. NORTHWARD UNDER the high unclouded sun That makes the ship and shadow one, I sail away as from the fort Booms sullenly the noonday gun. The odorous airs blow thin and fine, The sparkling waves like emeralds shine, The lustre of the coral reefs Gleams whitely through the tepid brine. And glitters o'er the liquid miles The jewelled ring of verdant isles, Where generous Nature holds her court Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. Encinctured -by the faithful seas Inviolate gardens load the breeze, Where flaunt like giant-warders' plumes The pennants of the cocoa-trees. [ 1401 NORTHWARD Enthroned in light and bathed in balm, In lonely majesty the Palm Blesses the isles with waving hands, High-Priest of the eternal Calm. Yet Northward with an equal mind I steer my course, and leave behind The rapture of the Southern skies, The wooing of the Southern wind. For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom Falls far and near the shade of gloom, Cast from the hovering vulture- wings Of one dark thought of woe and doom. I know that in the snow-white pines The brave Norse fire of freedom shines, And fain for this I leave the land Where endless summer pranks the vines. O strong, free North, so wise and brave ! O South, too lovely for a slave! [1411 NEW AND OLD Why read ye not the changeless truth, The free can conquer but to save ? May God upon these shining sands Send Love and Victory clasping hands, And Freedom's banners wave in peace Forever o'er the rescued lands ! And here, in that triumphant hour, Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power; And blushing earth and smiling sea In dalliance deck the bridal bower. Key West, 1864. IN THE FIRELIGHT MY dear wife sits beside the fire With folded hands and dreaming eyes, Watching the restless flames aspire, And wrapped in thralling memories. I mark the fitful firelight fling Its warm caresses on her brow, And kiss her hands' unmelting snow, And glisten on her wedding-ring. The proud free head that crowns so well The neck superb, whose outlines glide Into the bosom's perfect swell Soft-billowed by its peaceful tide, The cheek's faint flush, the lip's red glow, The gracious charm her beauty wears, Fill my fond eyes with tender tears As in the days of long ago. [1431 NEW AND OLD Days long ago, when in her eyes The only heaven I cared for lay, When from our thoughtless Paradise All care and toil dwelt far away; When Hope in wayward fancies throve, And rioted in secret sweets, Beguiled by Passion's dear deceits, The mysteries of maiden love. One year had passed since first my sight Was gladdened by her girlish charms, When on a rapturous summer night I clasped her in possessing arms. And now ten years have rolled away, And left such blessings as their dower, I owe her tenfold at this hour The love that lit our wedding-day. For now, vague-hovering o'er her form, My fancy sees, by love refined, A warmer and a dearer charm By wedlock's mystic hands intwined, [ 144] IN THE FIRELIGHT A golden coil of wifely cares That years have forged, the loving joy That guards the curly-headed boy Asleep an hour ago up stairs. A fair young mother, pure as fair, A matron heart and virgin soul ! The flickering light that crowns her hair Seems like a saintly aureole. A tender sense upon me falls That joy unmerited is mine, And in this pleasant twilight shine My perfect bliss myself appalls. Come back! my darling, strayed so far Into the realm of fantasy, Let thy dear face shine like a star In love-light beaming over me. My melting soul is jealous, sweet, Of thy long silence' drear eclipse, Oh, kiss me back with living lips To life, love, lying at thy feet ! IN A GRAVEYARD IN the dewy depths of the graveyard I lie in the tangled grass, And watch, in the sea of azure, The white cloud-islands pass. The birds in the rustling branches Sing gayly overhead; Gray stones like sentinel spectres Are guarding the silent dead. The early flowers sleep shaded In the cool green noonday glooms; The broken light falls shuddering On the cold white face of the tombs. Without, the world is smiling In the infinite love of God, But the sunlight fails and falters When it falls on the churchyard sod. [1461 IN A GRAVEYARD On me the joyous rapture Of a heart's first love is shed, But it falls on my heart as coldly As sunlight on the dead. THE PRAIRIE THE skies are blue above my head, The prairie green below, And flickering o'er the tufted grass The shifting shadows go, Vague-sailing, where the feathery clouds Fleck white the tranquil skies, Black javelins darting where aloft The whirring pheasant flies. A glimmering plain in drowsy trance The dim horizon bounds, Where all the air is resonant With sleepy summer sounds, The life that sings among the flowers, The lisping of the breeze, The hot cicala's sultry cry, The murmurous dream of bees. I 148] THE PRAIRIE The butterfly a flying flower Wheels swift in flashing rings, And flutters round his quiet kin, With brave flame-mottled wings. The wild Pinks burst in crimson fire, The Phlox' bright clusters shine, And Prairie-Cups are swinging free To spill their airy wine. And lavishly beneath the sun, In liberal splendor rolled, The Fennel fills the dipping plain With floods of flowery gold; And widely weaves the Iron- Weed A woof of purple dyes Where Autumn's royal feet may tread When bankrupt Summer flies. In verdurous tumult far away The prairie-billows gleam, Upon their crests in blessing rests The noontide's gracious beam. [ 149] NEW AND OLD Low quivering vapors steaming dim The level splendors break Where languid Lilies deck the rim Of some land-circled lake. Far in the East like low-hung clouds The waving woodlands lie; Far in the West the glowing plain Melts warmly in the sky. No accent wounds the reverent air, No footprint dints the sod, Lone in the light the prairie lies, Rapt in a dream of God. Illinois, 1858. CENTENNIAL A HUNDRED times the bells of Brown Have rung to sleep the idle summers, And still to-day clangs clamoring down A greeting to the welcome comers. And far, like waves of morning, pours Her call, in airy ripples breaking, And wanders to the farthest shores, Her children's drowsy hearts awaking. The wild vibration floats along, O'er heart-strings tense its magic plying, And wakes in every breast its song Of love and gratitude undying. My heart to meet the summons leaps At limit of its straining tether, Where the fresh western sunlight steeps In golden flame the prairie heather. [151] NEW AND OLD And others, happier, rise and fare To pass within the hallowed portal, And see the glory shining there Shrined in her steadfast eyes immortal. What though their eyes be dim and dull, Their heads be white in reverend blossom; Our mother's smile is beautiful As when she bore them on her bosom! Her heavenly forehead bears no line Of Time's iconoclastic fingers, But o'er her form the grace divine Of deathless youth and wisdom lingers. We fade and pass, grow faint and old, Till youth and joy and hope are banished, And still her beauty seems to fold The sum of all the glory vanished. As while Tithonus faltered on The threshold of the Olympian dawnings, I 152 ] CENTENNIAL Aurora's front eternal shone With lustre of the myriad mornings. So joys that slip like dead leaves down, And hopes burnt out that die in ashes, Rise restless from their graves to crown Our mother's brow with fadeless flashes. And lives wrapped in tradition's mist These honored halls to-day are haunting, And lips by lips long withered kissed The sagas of the past are chanting. Scornful of absence' envious bar BROWN smiles upon the mystic meeting Of those her sons, who, sundered far, In brotherhood of heart are greeting; Her wayward children wandering on Where setting stars are lowly burning, But still in worship toward the dawn That gilds their souls' dear Mecca turning; [ 153 ] NEW AND OLD Or those who, armed for God's own fight, Stand by his word through fire and slaughter, Or bear our banner's starry light Far-flashing through the Gulf 's blue water. For where one strikes for light and truth The right to aid, the wrong redressing, The mother of his spirit's youth Sheds o'er his soul her silent blessing. She gained her crown a gem of flame When KNEASS fell dead in victory gory; New splendor blazed upon her name When IVES' young life went out in glory ! Thus bright forever may she keep Her fires of tolerant Freedom burning, Till War's red eyes are charmed to sleep And bells ring home the boys returning. [154] CENTENNIAL And may she shed her radiant truth In largess on ingenuous comers, And hold the bloom of gracious youth Through many a hundred tranquil summers ! A WINTER NIGHT THE winter wind is raving fierce and shrill And chides with angry moan the frosty skies, The white stars gaze with sleepless Gorgon eyes That freeze the earth in terror fixed and still. We reck not of the wild night's gloom and chill, Housed from its rage, dear friend; and fancy flies, Lured by the hand of beckoning memories, Back to those summer evenings on the hill Where we together watched the sun go down Beyond the gold-washed uplands, while his fires Touched into glittering life the vanes and spires Piercing the purpling mists that veiled the town. The wintry night thy voice and eyes beguile, Till wake the sleeping summers in thy smile. [ 156] STUDENT-SONG WHEN Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend, And Youth's blue sky is bright, And shines in Youth's clear eye, my friend, Love's early dawning light, Let the free soul spurn care's control, And while the glad days shine, We '11 use their beams for Youth's gay dreams Of Love and Song and Wine. Let not the bigot's frown, my friend, O'ercast thy brow with gloom, For Autumn's sober brown, my friend, Shall follow Summer's bloom. Let smiles and sighs and loving eyes In changeful beauty shine, And shed their beams on Youth's gay dreams Of Love and Song and Wine. [ 157] NEW AND OLD For in the weary years, my friend, That stretched before us lie, There'll be enough of tears, my friend, To dim the brightest eye. So let them wait, and laugh at fate, While Youth's sweet moments shine, Till memory gleams with golden dreams Of Love and Song and Wine. HOW IT HAPPENED I PRAY you, pardon me, Elsie, And smile that frown away That dims the light of your lovely face As a thunder-cloud the day. I really could not help it, Before I thought, 't was done, And those great gray eyes flashed bright and cold, Like an icicle in the sun. I was thinking of the summers When we were boys and girls, And wandered in the blossoming woods, And the gay winds romped with your curls. And you seemed to me the same little girl I kissed in the alder-path, I kissed the little girl's lips, and alas ! I have roused a woman's wrath. [ 159 ] NEW AND OLD There is not so much to pardon, For why were your lips so red ? The blond hair fell in a shower of gold From the proud, provoking head. And the beauty that flashed from the splendid eyes, And played round the tender mouth, Rushed over my soul like a warm sweet wind That blows from the fragrant south. And where, after all, is the harm done ? I believe we were made to be gay, And all of youth not given to love Is vainly squandered away. And strewn through life's low labors, Like gold in the desert sands, Are love's swift kisses and sighs and vows And the clasp of clinging hands. And when you are old and lonely, In Memory's magic shine You will see on your thin and wasting hands, Like gems, these kisses of mine. I 160] HOW IT HAPPENED And when you muse at evening At the sound of some vanished name, The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips And kindle your heart to flame. GOD'S VENGEANCE SAITH the Lord, "Vengeance is mine; I will repay," saith the Lord; Ours be the anger divine, Lit by the flash of his word. How shall his vengeance be done ? How, when his purpose is clear? Must he come down from his throne ? Hath he no instruments here ? Sleep not in imbecile trust Waiting for God to begin, While, growing strong in the dust, Rests the bruised serpent of sin. Right and Wrong, both cannot live Death-grappled. Which shall we see ? Strike! only Justice can give Safety to all that shall be. [1621 GOD'S VENGEANCE Shame ! to stand paltering thus, Tricked by the balancing odds; Strike ! God is waiting for us ! Strike ! for the vengeance is God's. TOO LATE HAD we but met in other days, Had we but loved in other ways, Another light and hope had shone On your life and my own. In sweet but hopeless reveries I fancy how your wistful eyes Had saved me, had I known their power In fate's imperious hour; How loving you, beloved of God, And following you, the path I trod Had led me, through your love and prayers, To God's love unawares: And how our beings joined as one Had passed through checkered shade and sun, Until the earth our lives had given, With little change, to heaven. [164] TOO LATE God knows why this was not to be. You bloomed from childhood far from me, The sunshine of the favored place That knew your youth and grace. And when your eyes, so fair and free, In fearless beauty beamed on me, I knew the fatal die was thrown, My choice in life was gone. And still with wild and tender art Your child-love touched my torpid heart, Gilding the blackness where it fell, Like sunlight over hell. In vain, in vain ! my choice was gone ! Better to struggle on alone Than blot your pure life's blameless shine With cloudy stains of mine. A vague regret, a troubled prayer, And then the future vast and fair 1 165 1 NEW AND OLD Will tempt your young and eager eyes With all its glad surprise. And I shall watch you, safe and far, As some late traveller eyes a star Wheeling beyond his desert sands To gladden happier lands. LOVE'S DOUBT T is love that blinds my heart and eyes, I sometimes say in doubting dreams, The face that near me perfect seems Cold Memory paints in fainter dyes. 'T was but love's dazzled eyes I say That made her seem so strangely bright; The face I worshipped yesternight, I dread to meet it changed to-day. As, when dies out some song's refrain, And leaves your eyes in happy tears, Awake the same fond idle fears, It cannot sound so sweet again. You wait and say with vague annoy, "It will not sound so sweet again," Until comes back the wild refrain That floods your soul with treble joy. [167] NEW AND OLD So when I see my love again Fades the unquiet doubt away, While shines her beauty like the day Over my happy heart and brain. And in that face I see no more The fancied faults I idly dreamed, But all the charms that fairest seemed, I find them, fairer than before. LAGRIMAS GOD send me tears! Loose the fierce band that binds my tired brain, Give me the melting heart of other years, And let me weep again! Before me pass The shapes of things inexorably true. Gone is the sparkle of transforming dew From every blade of grass. In life's high noon Aimless I stand, my promised task undone, And raise my hot eyes to the angry sun That will go down too soon. Turned into gall Are the sweet joys of childhood's sunny reign; And memory is a torture, love a chain That binds my life in thrall. t 169] NEW AND OLD And childhood's pain Could to me now the purest rapture yield; I pray for tears as in his parching field The husbandman for rain. We pray in vain! The sullen sky flings down its blaze of brass; The joys of love all scorched and withering pass; I shall not weep again. ON THE BLUFF O GRANDLY flowing River ! O silver-gliding River ! Thy springing willows shiver In the sunset as of old; They shiver in the silence Of the willow-whitened islands, While the sun-bars and the sand-bars Fill air and wave with gold. O gay, oblivious River ! O sunset-kindled River ! Do you remember ever The eyes and skies so blue On a summer day that shone here, When we were all alone here, And the blue eyes were too wise To speak the love they knew? [1711 NEW AND OLD O stern impassive River ! O still unanswering River ! The shivering willows quiver As the night-winds moan and rave. From the past a voice is calling, From heaven a star is falling, And dew swells in the bluebells Above her hillside grave. UNA IN the whole wide world there was but one, Others for others, but she was mine, The one fair woman beneath the sun. From her gold-flax curls' most marvellous shine Down to the lithe and delicate feet There was not a curve nor a waving line But moved in a harmony firm and sweet With all of passion my life could know. By knowledge perfect and faith complete I was bound to her, as the planets go Adoring around their central star, Free, but united for weal or woe. She was so near and Heaven so far She grew my heaven and law and fate Rounding my life with a mystic bar [1731 NEW AND OLD No thought beyond could violate. Our love to fulness in silence nursed Grew calm as morning, when through the gate Of the glimmering East the sun has burst, With his hot life filling the waiting air. She kissed me once, that last and first Of her maiden kisses was placid as prayer. Against all comers I sat with lance In rest, and, drunk with my joy, I sware Defiance and scorn to the world's worst chance. In vain! for soon unhorsed I lay At the feet of the strong god Circumstance And never again shall break the day, And never again shall fall the night That shall light me, or shield me, on my way [1741 UNA To the presence of my sad soul's delight. Her dead love comes like a passionate ghost To mourn the Body it held so light, And Fate, like a hound with a purpose lost, Goes round bewildered with shame and fright. THROUGH THE LONG DAYS THROUGH the long days and years What will my loved one be, Parted from me ? Through the long days and years. Always as then she was Loveliest, brightest, best, Blessing and blest, Always as then she was. Never on earth again Shall I before her stand, Touch lip or hand, Never on earth again. But while my darling lives Peaceful I journey on, Not quite alone, Not while my darling lives. [176] A PHYLACTERY WISE men I hold those rakes of old Who, as we read in antique story, When lyres were struck and wine was poured, Set the white Death's Head on the board Memento mori. Love well ! love truly ! and love fast ! True love evades the dilatory. Life's bloom flares like a meteor past; A joy so dazzling cannot last Memento mori. Stop not to pluck the leaves of bay That greenly deck the path of glory, The wreath will wither if you stay, So pass along your earnest way Memento mori. [177] NEW AND OLD Hear but not heed, though wild and shrill, The cries of faction transitory; Cleave to your good, eschew your ill, A Hundred Years and all is still Memento mori. When Old Age comes with muffled drums, That beat to sleep our tired life's story, On thoughts of dying, (Rest is good !) Like old snakes coiled i' the sun, we brood Memento mori. BLONDINE I WANDERED through a careless world Deceived when not deceiving, And never gave an idle heart The rapture of believing. The smiles, the sighs, the glancing eyes, Of many hundred comers Swept by me, light as rose-leaves blown From long-forgotten summers. But never eyes so deep and bright And loyal in their seeming, And never smiles so full of light Have shone upon my dreaming. The looks and lips so gay and wise, The thousand charms that wreathe them, Almost I dare believe that truth Is safely shrined beneath them. 1179] NEW AND OLD Ah ! do they shine, those eyes of thine, But for our own misleading? The fresh young smile, so pure and fine, Does it but mock our reading ? Then faith is fled, and trust is dead, And unbelief grows duty, If fraud can wield the triple arm Of youth and wit and beauty. DISTICHS WISELY a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her. This one may love her some day, some day the lover will not. There are three species of creatures who when they seem coming are going, When they seem going they come : Diplomates, women, and crabs. m Pleasures too hastily tasted grow sweeter in fond recol- lection, As the pomegranate plucked green ripens far over the sea. [ 181 ] NEW AND OLD IV As the meek beasts in the Garden came flocking for Adam to name them, Men for a title to-day crawl to the feet of a king. What is a first love worth, except to prepare for a second? What does the second love bring? Only regret for the first. VI Health was wooed by the Romans in groves of the laurel and myrtle. Happy and long are the lives brightened by glory and love. VII Wine is like rain: when it falls on the mire it but makes it the fouler, But when it strikes the good soil wakes it to beauty and bloom. [ 182 ] DISTICHS Break not the rose; its fragrance and beauty are surely sufficient : Resting contented with these, never a thorn shall you feel. IX When you break up housekeeping, you learn the extent of your treasures; Till he begins to reform, no one can number his sins. Maidens ! why should you worry in choosing whom you shall marry ? Choose whom you may, you will find you have got somebody else. Unto each man comes a day when his favorite sins all forsake him, And he complacently thinks he has forsaken his sins. [ 183] NEW AND OLD Be not too anxious to gain your next-door neighbor's approval: Live your own life, and let him strive your approval to gain. XIII Who would succeed in the world should be wise in the use of his pronouns. Utter the You twenty times, where you once utter the I. XIV The best loved man or maid in the town would perish with anguish Could they hear all that their friends say in the course of a day. xv True luck consists not in holding the best of the cards at the table: Luckiest he who knows just when to rise and go home. [ 184] DISTICHS XVI Pleasant enough it is to hear the world speak of your virtues; But in your secret heart 't is of your faults you are proud. XVII Try not to beat back the current, yet be not drowned in its waters; Speak with the speech of the world, think with the thoughts of the few. Make all good men your well-wishers, and then, in the years' steady sifting, Some of them turn into friends. Friends are the sun- shine of life. REGARDANT As I lay at your feet that afternoon, Little we spoke, you sat and mused, Humming a sweet old-fashioned tune, And I worshipped you, with a sense confused Of the good time gone and the bad on the way, While my hungry eyes your face perused To catch and brand on my soul for aye The subtle smile which had grown my doom. Drinking sweet poison hushed I lay Till the sunset shimmered athwart the room. I rose to go. You stood so fair And dim in the dead day's tender gloom: All at once, or ever I was aware, Flashed from you on me a warm strong wave Of passion and power; in the silence there [ 186 ] REGARDANT I fell on my knees, like a lover, or slave, With my wild hands clasping your slender waist: And my lips, with a sudden frenzy brave, A madman's kiss on your girdle pressed, And I felt your calm heart's quickening beat, And your soft hands on me one instant rest. And if God had loved me, how endlessly sweet Had he let my heart in its rapture burst, And throb its last at your firm small feet! And when I was forth, I shuddered at first At my imminent bliss. As a soul in pain, Treading his desolate path accursed, Looks back and dreams through his tears' dim rain That by Heaven's wide gate the angels smile, Relenting, and beckon him back again, And goes on, thrice damned by that devil's wile, So sometimes burns in my weary brain The thought that you loved me all the while. GUY OF THE TEMPLE DOWN the dim West slow fails the stricken sun, And from his hot face fades the crimson flush Veiled in death's herald-shadows sick and gray. Silent and dark the sombre valley lies Forgotten; happy hi the late fond beams Glimmer the constant waves of Galilee. Afar, below, in airy music ring The bugles of my host; the column halts, A wearied serpent glittering in the vale, Where rising mist-like gleam the tented camps. Pitch my pavilion here, where its high cross May catch the last light lingering on the hill. The savage shadows, struggling by the shore, Have conquered in the valley; inch by inch The vanquished light fights bravely to these crags To perish glorious in the sunset fire; Even as our hunted Cause, so pressed and torn [ 188 1 GUY OF THE TEMPLE In Syrian valleys, and the trampled marge Of consecrated streams, displays at last Its narrowing glories from these steadfast walls. Here in God's name we stand, and brighter far Shines the stern virtue of my martyr-host Through these invidious fortunes, than of old, When the still sunshine glinted on their helms, And dallying breezes woke their bridle-bells To tinkling music by the reedy shore Of calm Tiberias, where our angry Lord, Wroth at the deadly sin that cursed our camp, Denied and blinded us, and gave us up To the avenging sword of Saladin. Yet would he not permit his truth to sink To utter loss amid that foundering fight, But led us, scarred and shattered from the spoil Of Paynim rage, the desert's thirsty death, To where beneath the sheltering crags we prayed And rested and grew strong. Heroes and saints To alien peoples shall they be, my brave And patient warriors; for in their stout hearts [ 189 1 NEW AND OLD God's spirit dwells forever, and their hands Are swift to do his service on his foes. The swelling music of their vesper-hymn Is rising fragrant from the shadowed vale Familiar to the welcoming gates of heaven. Mother of God! as evening falls Upon the silent sea, And shadows veil the mountain watts, We lift our souls to theel From lurking perils of the night, The deserfs hidden harms, From plagues that waste, from blasts that smite, Defend thy men-at-arms! Ay! Heaven keep them! and ye angel-hosts That wait with fluttering plumes around the great White throne of God, guard them from scathe and harm ! For in your starry records never shone The memory of desert so great as theirs. I hold not first, though peerless else on earth, [ 190 1 GUY OF THE TEMPLE That knightly valor, born of gentle blood And war's long tutelage, which hath made their name Blaze like a baleful planet o'er these lands; Firm seat in saddle, lance unmoved, a hand Wedding the hilt with death's persistent grasp; One-minded rush in fight that naught can stay. Not these the highest, though I scorn not these, But rather offer Heaven with humble heart The deeds that heaven hath given us arms to do. For when God's smile was with us we were strong To go like sudden lightning to our mark: As on that summer day when Saladin Passing in scorn our host at Antioch, Who spent the days in revel, and shamed the stars With nightly scandal came with all his host, Its gay battalia brave with saffron silks, Flaunting the banners of the Caliphate Beneath the walls of fair Jerusalem: And white and shaking came the Leper-King, Great Baldwin's blasted scion, and Tripoli And I, and twenty score of Temple Knights, [ 191 1 NEW AND OLD To meet the myriads marshalled by the bright Untarnished flower of Eastern chivalry; A moment paused with level-fronting spears And moveless helms before that shining host, Whose gay attire abashed the morning light, And then struck spur and charged, while from the mass Of rushing terror burst the awful cry, God and the Temple! As the avalanche slides Down Alpine slopes, precipitous, cold and dark, Unpitying and unwrathful, grinds and crushes The mountain violets and the valley weeds, And drags behind a trail of chaos and death; So burst we on that field, and through and through The gay battalia brave with saffron silks, Crushed and abolished every grace and gleam, And dragged where'er we rode a sinuous track Of chaos and death, till all the plain was filled With battered armor, turbaned trunkless heads, With silken mantles blushing angry gules And Bagdad's banners trampled and forlorn. And Saladin, stunned and bewildered sore, [ 192 J GUY OF THE TEMPLE The greatest prince, save in the grace of God, That now wears sword, mounted his brother's barb And, followed by a half-score followers, Sped to his castle Shaubec, over against The cliffs by Ascalon, and there abode: And sullenly made order that no more The royal nouba should be played for him Until he should erase the rusting stain Upon his knightly honor; and no more The nouba sounded by the Sultan's tent, Morning nor evening by the silent tent, Until the headlong greed of Chatillon Spread ruin on our cause from Montreale. But greatest are my warriors, as I deem, In that their hearts, nearer than any else Keep true the pledge of perfect purity They pledged upon their sword-hilts long ago. For all is possible to the pure in heart. Mother of God! thy starry smile Still bless us from above! [193] NEW AND OLD Keep pure our souls from passion's guile, Our hearts from earthly love! Still save each soul from guilt apart As stainless as each sword, And guard undimmed in every heart The image of our Lord I O goodliest fellowship that the world has known, True hearts and stalwart arms ! above your breasts Glitters no flash of wreathen amulet Forged against sword-stroke by the chanted rhythm Of charms accurst; but in each steadfast heart Blazes the light of cloudless purity, That like a splendid jewel glorifies With restless fire the gold that spheres it round, And marks you children of our God, whose lives He guards with the awful jealousy of love. And even me that generous love has spared, Me, trustless knight and miserable man, Sad prey of dark and mutinous thoughts that tempt My sick soul into perjury and death [ 194] GUY OF THE TEMPLE Since his great love had pity of my pain, Has spared to lead these blameless warriors safe Into the desert from the blazing towns, Out of the desert to the inviolate hills Where God has roofed them with his hollow shield. Through all these days of tempest and eclipse His hand has led me and his wrath has flashed Its lightnings in the pathway of my sword. And so I hope, and so my crescent faith Gains daily power, that all my prayers and tears And toils and blood and anguish borne for him May blot the accusing of my deadly sin From heaven's high compt, and give me rest in death; And lay the pallid ghost of mortal love, That fills with banned and mournful loveliness, Unblest, the haunted chambers of my soul. My misery will atone, my misery, Dear God, will surely atone! for not the sting Of macerating thongs, nor the slow horror Of crowns of thorny iron maddening the brows, Nor all that else pale hermits have devised I 195J NEW AND OLD To scourge the rebel senses in their shade Of caverned desolation, have the power To smart and goad and lash and mortify Like the great love that binds my ruined heart Relentless, as the insidious ivy binds The shattered bulk of some deserted tower, Enlacing slow and riving with strong hands Of pitiless verdure every seam and jut, Till none may tear it forth and save the tower, So binds and masters me my hopeless love. So through the desert, in the silent hills, I' the current of the battle's storm and stress, One thought has driven me, that though men may call Me stainless Paladin, Knight leal and true To Christ and Our Lady, still I know myself A knight not after God's own heart, a soul Recreant, and whelmed in the forbidden sin. For dearer to my sad heart than the cross I give my heart's best blood for are the eyes That long ago, when youth and hope were mine, I loved in thy still valleys, far Provence ! I 196] GUY OF THE TEMPLE And sweeter to my spirit than the bells Of rescued Salem are the loving tones Of her dear voice, soft echoing o'er the years. They haunt me in the stillness and the glare Of desert noontide when the horizon's line Swims faintly throbbing, and my shadow hides Skulking beneath me from the brassy sky; And when night comes to soothe with breath of balm And pomp of stars the worn and weary world, Her eyes rise in my soul and make its day. And even into the battle comes my love, Snatching the duty that I offer Heaven. At closing of El-Majed's awful day, When the last quivering sunbeams, choked with dust And fume of blood, failed on the level plain, In the last charge, when gathered all our knights The precious handful who from morn had stemmed The fury of the multitudinous hosts Of Islam, where in youth's hot fire and pride Ramped the young lion-whelp, Ben-Saladin; As down the slope we rode at eventide, [ 197J NEW AND OLD The dying sunlight faintly smiled to greet Our tattered guidons and our dinted helms And lance-heads blooming with the battle's rose. Into the vale, dusk with the shadow of death, With silent lips and ringing mail we rode. And something in the spirit of the hour, Or fate, or memory, or sorrow, or sin, Or love, which unto me is all of these, Possessed and bound me; for when dashed our troop In stormy clangor on the Paynim lines The soul of my dead youth came into me; Faded away my oath; the woes of Zion, God was forgot; blazed in my leaping heart, With instant flash, life's inextinguished fires; Plunging along each tense limb poured the blood Hot with its years of sleeping-smothered flame. And in a dream I charged, and in a dream I smote resistless; foemen in my path Fell unregarded, like the wayside flowers Clipped by the truant's staff in daisied lanes. For over me burned lustrous the dear eyes [ 198] GUY OF THE TEMPLE Of my beloved; I strove as at a joust To gain at end the guerdon of her smile. And ever, as in the dense mlee I dashed, Her name burst from my lips, as lightning breaks Out of the plunging wrack of summer storms. my lost love ! Bright o'er the waste of years That bliss and beauty shines upon my soul; As far beyond yon desert hangs the sun, Gilding with tender beam the barren stretch Of sands that intervene. In this still light The old sweet memories glimmer back to me. Fair summers of my youth, the idle days 1 wandered in the bosky coverts hid In the dim woods that girt my ancient home; The blue young eyes I met and worshipped there; The love that growing turned those gloomy wilds To faery dells, and filled the vernal air With light that bathed the hills of Paradise; The warm, long days of rapturous summer-time, When through the forests thick and lush we strayed, [ 199] NEW AND OLD And love made our own sunshine in the shades. And all things fair and graceful in the woods I loved with liberal heart; the violets Were dear for her dear eyes, the quiring birds That caught the musical tremble of her voice. O happy twilights in the leafy glooms! When in the glowing dusk the winsome arts And maiden graces that all day had kept Us twain and separate melted away In blushing silence, and my love was mine Utterly, utterly, with clinging arms And quick, caressing fingers, warm red lips, Where vows, half uttered, drowned in kisses, died; Mine, with the starlight in her passionate eyes; The wild wind of the woodland breathing low To wake the elfin music of the leaves, And free the prisoned odors of the flowers, In honor of young Love come to his throne ! While we under the stars, with twining arms And mutual lips insatiate, gave our souls Madly forgetting earth and heaven to love! [200] GUY OF THE TEMPLE In desert march or battle' s flame, In fortress and infield, Our war-cry is thy holy name. Thy love our joy and shield! And if we falter, let thy power ; Thy stern avenger be, And God forget us in the hour We cease to think of theel Curse me not, God of Justice and of Love ! Pitiful God, let my long woe atone! I cannot deem but God has pitied me; Else why with painful care have I been saved, Whenever tossed and drenched in the fierce tide Of Saladin's victories by the walls profaned Of Jaffa, on the sands of far Daroum, Or in the battle thundering on the downs Of Ramlah, or the bloody day that shed Red horrors on high Gaza's parapets ? For never a storm of fatal fight has raged [ 201 1 NEW AND OLD In Islam's track of rout and ruin swept From Egypt to Gebail, but when the ebb Of battle came I and my host have lain, Scarred, scorched, safe somewhere on its fiery shore. At Marcab's lingering siege, where day by day We told the Moslem legions toiling slow, Planting their engines, delving in their mines To quench in our destruction this last light Of Christendom, our fortress in the crags, God's beacon swung defiant from the stars; One thunderous night I knew their miners groped Below, and thought ere morn to die, in crush And tumult of the falling citadel. And pondering of my fate the broken storm Sobbing its life away I was aware There grew between me and the quieting skies A face and form I knew, not as in dreams, The sad dishevelled loveliness of earth, But lighter than the thin air where she swayed, Gold hair flame-fluttered, eyes and mouth aglow With lambent light of spiritual joy. [ 202 ] GUY OF THE TEMPLE With sweet command she beckoned me away And led me vaguely dreaming, till I saw Where the wild flood in sudden fury had burst A passage through the rocks: and thence I led My host unharmed, following her luminous eyes, Until the East was gray, and with a smile Wooing me heavenward still she passed away Into the rosy trouble of the dawn. And I believe my love is shrived in heaven, And I believe that I shall soon be free. For ever, as I journey on, to me Waking or sleeping come faint whisperings And fancies not of earth, as if the gates Of near eternity stood for me ajar, And ghostly gales come blowing o'er my soul Fraught with the amaranth odors of the skies. I go to join the Lion-Heart at Acre, And there, after due homage to my liege, And after patient penance of the church, [2031 NEW AND OLD And after final devoir in the fight, If that my God be gracious, I shall die. And so I pray Lord pardon if I sin! That I may lose in death's imbittered wave, The stain of sinful loving, and may find In glory again the love I lost below, With all of fair and bright and unattained, Beautiful in the cherishing smile of God, By the glad waters of the River of Life ! Night hangs above the valley; dies the day In peace, casting his last glance on my cross, And warns me to my prayers. Ave Maria! Mother of God I the evening fades On wave and hill and lea, And in the twilight's deepening shades We lift our souls to theel In passion's stress, the battle's strife, The desert's lurking harms, Maid-Mother of the Lord of Life, Protect thy men-at-arms I TRANSLATIONS THE WAY TO HEAVEN FROM THE GERMAN ONE day the Sultan, grand and grim, Ordered the Mufti brought to him. "Now let thy wisdom solve for me The question I shall put to thee. "The different tribes beneath my sway Four several sects of priests obey; Now tell me which of all the four Is on the path to Heaven's door." The Sultan spake, and then was dumb. The Mufti looked about the room, And straight made answer to his lord, Fearing the bowstring at each word: "Thou, godlike in thy lofty birth, Who art our Allah upon earth, [2071 TRANSLATIONS Illume me with thy favoring ray, And I will answer as I may. 'Here, where thou thronest in thy hall, I see there are four doors in all; And through all four thy slaves may gaze Upon the brightness of thy face. 'That I came hither safely through Was to thy gracious message due, And, blinded by thy splendor's flame, I cannot tell the way I came." COUNTESS JUTTA FROM THE GERMAN OP HEINRICH HEINE THE Countess Jutta passed over the Rhine In a light canoe by the moon's pale shine. The handmaid rows and the Countess speaks: "Seest thou not there where the water breaks Seven corpses swim In the moonlight dim? So sorrowful swim the dead! They were seven knights full of fire and youth, They sank on my heart and swore me truth. I trusted them; but for Truth's sweet sake, Lest they should be tempted their oaths to break, I had them bound, And tenderly drowned! So sorrowful swim the dead!" ^ I 209 ] . TRANSLATIONS The merry Countess laughed outright! It rang so wild in the startled night! Up to the waist the dead men rise And stretch lean fingers to the skies. They nod and stare With a glassy glare! So sorrowful swim the dead ! A BLESSING AFTER HEINE WHEN I look on thee and feel how dear, How pure, and how fair thou art, Into my eyes there steals a tear, And a shadow mingled of love and fear Creeps slowly over my heart. And my very hands feel as if they would lay Themselves on thy fair young head, And pray the good God to keep thee alway As good and lovely, as pure and gay, When I and my wild love are dead. [211 TO THE YOUNG AFTER HEINE LET your feet not falter, your course not alter By golden apples, till victory 's won! The sword's sharp clangor, the dart's shrill anger, Swerve not the hero thundering on. A bold beginning is hah* the winning, An Alexander makes worlds his fee. No long debating! The Queens are waiting In his pavilion on bended knee. Thus swift pursuing his wars and wooing, He mounts old Darius' bed and throne. O glorious ruin! O blithe undoing! O drunk death- triumph in Babylon! [ 212 ] THE GOLDEN CALF AFTER HEINE DOUBLE flutes and horns resound As they dance the idol round; Jacob's daughters, madly reeling, Whirl about the golden calf. Hear them laugh! Kettledrums and laughter pealing. Dresses tucked above their knees, Maids of noblest families, In the swift dance blindly wheeling, Circle in their wild career Round the steer, Kettledrums and laughter pealing. Aaron's self, the guardian gray Of the faith, at last gives way, [213] TRANSLATIONS Madness all his senses stealing; Prances in his high priest's coat Like a goat, Kettledrums and laughter pealing. THE AZRA AFTER HEINE DAILY walked the fair and lovely Sultan's daughter in the twilight, In the twilight by the fountain, Where the sparkling waters plash. Daily stood the young slave silent In the twilight by the fountain, Where the plashing waters sparkle, Pale and paler every day. Once by twilight came the princess Up to him with rapid questions: 'I would know thy name, thy nation, Whence thou comest, who thou art." And the young slave said, "My name is Mahomet, I come from Yemmen. I am of the sons of Azra, Men who perish if they love." [2151 GOOD AND BAD LUCK AFTER HEINE GOOD LUCK is the gayest of all gay girls, : Long in one place she will not stay, Back from your brow she strokes the curls, Kisses you quick and flies away. But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes And stays, no fancy has she for flitting, Snatches of true love-songs she hums, And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting. [2161 L'AMOUR DU MENSONGE AFTER CHARLES BAUDELAIRE WHEN I behold thee, O my indolent love, To the sound of ringing brazen melodies, Through garish halls harmoniously move, Scattering a scornful light from languid eyes; When I see, smitten by the blazing lights, Thy pale front, beauteous in its bloodless glow As the faint fires that deck the Northern nights, And eyes that draw me wheresoe'er I go; I say, She is fair, too coldly strange for speech; A crown of memories, her calm brow above, Shines; and her heart is like a bruised red peach, Ripe as her body for intelligent love. Art thou late fruit of spicy savor and scent ? -. A funeral vase awaiting tearful showers ? [2171 TRANSLATIONS An Eastern odor, waste and oasis blent ? A silken cushion or a bank of flowers ? I know there are eyes of melancholy sheen To which no passionate secrets e'er were given; Shrines where no god or saint has ever been, As deep and empty as the vault of Heaven. But what care I if this be all pretense ? 'T will serve a heart that seeks for truth no more. All one thy folly or indifference, Hail, lovely mask, thy beauty I adore ! AMOR MYSTICUS FROM THE SPANISH OF SOB MABCELA D] CABPIO LET them say to my Lover That here I lie ! The thing of His pleasure, His slave am I. Say that I seek Him Only for love, And welcome are tortures My passion to prove. Love giving gifts Is suspicious and cold; I have all, my Beloved, When Thee I hold. Hope and devotion The good may gain; [2191 TRANSLATIONS I am but worthy Of passion and pain. So noble a Lord None serves in vain, For the pay of my love Is my love's sweet pain. I love Thee, to love Thee, - No more I desire; By faith is nourished My love's strong fire. I kiss Thy hands When I feel their blows; In the place of caresses Thou givest me woes. But in Thy chastising Is joy and peace. O Master and Love, Let Thy blows not cease. [220] AMOR MYSTICUS Thy beauty, Beloved, With scorn is rife, But I know that Thou lovest me Better than life. And because Thou lovest me, Lover of mine, Death can but make me Utterly Thine. I die with longing Thy face to see; Oh ! sweet is the anguish Of death to me ! UNCOLLECTED PIECES NARRATIVE POEMS BENONI DUNN I SAT on a worm fence talking With one of the Bear Creek boys, When all the woods were ringing With the blue jay's jubilant noise. Prairie and timber were glorious In the love of the hot young sun, But a philosophic gloom possessed The soul of Benoni Dunn. "Nothin' in all this 'varsal yerth Is like what it ort to be, I 've give up try in' to see the nub It 's too hefty a job fer me. The weaker a feller's stummick may be, The bigger his dinner, you bet, And the more he don't care a damn for cash, The richer he 's sure to get. [225] UNCOLLECTED PIECES "That's old Brads got a pretty young wife And the biggest house in Pike No chick nor child says he's sixty-two, But he's eighty-two more like. I 'low God thinks it a denied good joke The way he tries it on To send a plenty of hazel-nuts To folks with their back teeth gone. "I ort to be in Congress; I would ef I 'd went to school. Thar's Colonel Scrubb our member He's jest a nateral fool. When he come here, Lord ! he did n't know Peach blow from a dogwood blossom, And the denied galoot owned up to me That he never seed a 'possum! "Everything works contrary You never knows what to do: Ef I sow in wheat I'll wish it was corn Afore the fall is through. [226] BENONI DUNN And talk about pleasure ef I was axed The thing that most I love, I'd say it's gingerbread and that I git the littlest uv. 'What is the use of livin' Where everything goes skew-haw, Where you starve ef you keep the Commandments, And hang ef you break the law. I've give up tryin' to see the nub Uv what we was meant to be; The more I study, the more I don't know It's too hefty a job fer me." And this was the sum of the thinking Of tall Benoni Dunn, While gay in weeds his cornfield laughed In the light of the kindly sun. Ruminant thus he maundered, With a scowl on his tangled brow, With gaps in his fence, and hate in his heart, And rust on his idle plough. "AFTER YOU, PILOT" DAWN gilded over dunes of sand That border Mobile Bay The fleet, which under Farragut In expectation lay. For ere that rising sun should set, Full many a sailor bold Should perish, leaving but a name On history's page of gold. Others have sung and yet shall sing Of Farragut's renown: How to the Hartford's maintop lashed He gained his conqueror's crown. Let others sing those deeds while we, . In sorrow and in pride, Tell how one gallant gentleman With high decorum died. [228] AFTER YOU, PILOT The Admiral came across the bar With threescore flags in air, The Gulf's blue mirror never glassed A scene so sternly fair. Over his fleet of eighteen ships His dark eye proudly ran; And Craven in the monitor Tecumseh led the van. Morgan and Gaines shot forth their fires From either bellowing shore; With deeper rage the fleet replied One thunderous, volleying roar. But straight ahead bold Craven dashed Upon the swelling tide, To seek and smite the Tennessee, The foeman's hope and pride. A noble quarry ! Seeking her, Most worth his knightly steel, He recked not of the leaking death Beneath his gliding keel. [229} UNCOLLECTED PIECES One moment in the conning tower He thought of loved ones dear Then at the black foe's lowering bulk He bade his pilot steer. A roar, a shock, a shuddering plunge ! Full well did Craven know No mortal skill might save his ship Smit by that dastard blow. The doom impending shrieked and beat Its fatal wings so nigh That only one might pass the stair And one must pause, and die. "After you, Pilot," Craven said. O words of flawless fame! Out of that awful moment bloomed A pure, immortal name. The pilot passed, the hero stayed; Within that turret's round Met glorious death and endless life And faith by honor crowned. [ 2301 AFTER YOU, PILOT The good ship plunged to ocean's ooze. Forth from the flood and fire Our reverence sees that gentle soul To kindred heaven aspire; And marks when Craven stands beneath God's hero-sheltering dome The shade of Philip Sidney rise And bid him welcome home. SONNETS TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT SON of a sire whose heart beat ever true To God, to country, and the fireside love To which returning, like a homing dove, From each high duty done, he gladly flew, Complete, yet touched by genius through and through, The lofty qualities that made him great, Loved in his home and priceless to the state, By Heaven's grace are garnered up in you. Be yours, we pray, the dauntless heart of youth, The eye to see the humor of the game, The scorn of lies, the large Batavian mirth; And, past the happy, fruitful years of fame, Of sport and work and battle for the truth, A home not all unlike your home on earth. Christmas Eve, 1902. [ 232 1 ATAVISM O BEAUTEOUS daughter of a mighty race! In thy fair features and thy radiant eyes Like bright clouds floating over brighter skies The shadows of a glorious past we trace. Framed in the oval of thy perfect face Flit the pale belles of bygone centuries; A hint of lawgivers and jurists lies In that pure brow where strength is wed with grace. And looking on thy profile's symmetry A world-famed face across my memory comes, 'Neath the slouched hat a watching eagle's eye, Where down the dusty line goes riding by, With blare of trumpets and hoarse growl of drums, Tecumseh Sherman marching to the sea. TWILIGHT ON SANDUSKY MARSH Low in the west the moon's slim crescent swings. Across the marsh the vesper breezes bear The sounds of gloaming; from far cornfields fare The chittering blackbirds, whose ingathering brings The silken flutter of a myriad wings. The wild duck's cry floats down the thickening air As of one hunted, full of fear and care. Sad twilight comes with dubious whisperings. How changed from that exultant world which lay In the wide smile of noon! The evening's shiver Means the day's death; its thronging whispers blend With thoughts that haunt men when their lives must end. Another dawn may gild a fairer day, But this day, when it dies, is gone forever. [ 2341 SORRENTO THE mirthful gods who ruled o'er Greater Greece Created this fair land in some high mood Of frolic joy; the smiling heavens brood Over a scene soft-whelmed in jocund peace. Gay clamors, odorous breathings never cease From basking crag, lime grove, and olive wood; Swart fishers sing from out the sparkling flood Where once the syrens sang in luring ease. The curved beach swarms with brown-skinned boys and girls Dancing the tarantella on the sands, Their limbs alive with music's jollity; And ever, where the warm wave leaps and swirls With glad embrace clasping the bowery lands, Breaks the tumultuous laughter of the sea. 235 P^ESTUM Two thousand years these temples have been old. Yet were they not more lovely the first day, When o'er yon hills the young light blushed and lay Along the tapering columns, and eve's gold Over the Tyrrhene sea in glory rolled. By power of truth, by beauty's royal sway, While men, and creeds, and kingdoms pass away, Their gift to charm and awe they calmly hold. Beauty and truth! by that high grace divine They force the tribute of the vassal years; Clouds gloom, the blue wave dimples, the stars shine To make them fairer; even Time that tears And shames all other things, here can but bless And beautify this crumbling loveliness. [ 236 ] THANATOS ATHANATOS (DEATHLESS DEATH) AT eve when the brief wintry day is sped, I muse beside my fire's faint-flickering glare Conscious of wrinkling face and whitening hair Of those who, dying young, inherited The immortal youthfulness of the early dead. I think of Raphael's grand-seigneurial air; Of Shelley and Keats, with laurels fresh and fair Shining un withered on each sacred head; And soldier boys who snatched death's starry prize, With sweet life radiant in their fearless eyes, The dreams of love upon their beardless lips, Bartering dull age for immortality; Their memories hold in death's unyielding fee The youth that thrilled them to the finger-tips. [ 2371 NIGHT IN VENICE LOVE, in this summer night, do you recall Midnight, and Venice, and those skies of June Thick-sown with stars, when from the still lagoon We glided noiseless through the dim canal ? A sense of some belated festival Hung round us, and our own hearts beat in tune With passionate memories that the young moon Lit up on dome and tower and palace wall. We dreamed what ghosts of vanished loves made part Of that sweet light and trembling, amorous air. I felt in those rich beams that kissed your hair, Those breezes, warm with bygone lovers' sighs All the dead beauty of Venice in your eyes, All the old loves of Venice in my heart. [238] PEACE AFTER STUABT MERRILL TREMBLING of purple banners in the fight, Wild neigh of horses in destruction's path, Howling of trumpets answering yells of wrath, Dim eyes where slowly fades the living light; And on the plains, the ghastly heaped up death O'er which the guns thunder their dull refrain; And summer is shamed and autumn grieves in rain, And carnage breathes abroad a hateful breath. Back ! O thou nightmare of the tired world's rest ! The Spring sees blooming at the mother's breast Pink mouths of babes with cooing laughter rife; While from the valley to the mountain springs, Amid the rustle of zephyrs and of wings, Sound, like young heart-beats, all the bells of Life. LOVE'S DAWN IN wandering through waste places of the world, I met my love and knew not she was mine. But soon a light more tender, more divine, Filled earth and heaven; richer cloud-curtains furled The west at eve; a softer flush impearled The gates of dawn; a note more pure and fine Rang in the thrush's song; a rarer shine Varnished the leaves by May's sweet sun uncurled. To me, who loved but knew not, all the air Trembled to shocks of far-off melodies, As all the summer's rustling thrills the trees When spring suns strike their boughs, asleep and bare. And then, one blessed day, I saw arise Love's morning, glorious, in her tranquil eyes. [ 240 1 HELEN'S STAR STONE THERE was a red star stone, old poets feign, Hung on the neck of Helen, the most fair Of women, the world's wonder; gathering there, Dripped ever one bright drop of blood; like rain That ere it falls blows into mist again. The crimson gout melted to roseate air, And that divine white bosom, proudly bare, Of all the woe it cost bore never a stain. So you, serene and beauteous lady, rove 'Mid throngs of luckless ones who gaze and die. And not a tremor of heartbreak, not a sigh Nor strangling sob of strong men whelmed in love Avails your calm heart by one beat to move Or dims the cloudless heaven of your eye. [241 A CHALLENGE THE luminous pages of all story prove High love hath ending in heroic woe; Sharp-fanged and fell, dark death doth ever go In waiting for the wandering feet of love. And if that fate be shunned, love's footsteps move Down the dull slope that leads to regions low Where the thick pulse of ease and wont beats slow As hi some dusk and poppy-haunted grove. Shall we accept, or shall we not defy, Entrenched in our fast love, this augury ? Never shall I less than adore thee, Sweet ! No use, my queen, shall dim thy radiant crown. And if, in envy, death shall strike me down, Let his dart find me here, kissing thy feet ! [242 1 LOVE AND MUSIC I GAZED upon my love while music smote The soft night air into glad harmony; Lapt on the ripples of a silver sea, I heard the bright tones rapturous dance and float. Hearing and sight were wed; each flattering note Meant some perfection of my love to me. Caressed by music, it was bliss to see Her form, white-robed, the jewel at her throat, Her glimmering hands, her dusky, perfumed hair, Her low, clear brow, her deep, proud, dreaming eyes, Bent kindly upon me, her worshiper; The dulcet, delicate sounds that shook the air As if love's joy rained from the starlit skies Seemed all sweet, inarticulate thoughts of her. 243 1 OBEDIENCE THE lady of my love bids me not love her. I can but bow obedient to her will; And so, henceforth, I love her not; but still I love the lustrous hair that glitters over Her proud young head; I love the smiles that hover About her mouth ;'ihe lights and shades that fill Her star-bright eyelRfe low, rich tones that thrill <^V Like thrush-songs gurgling from a vernal cover. I love the fluttering dimples in her cheek; Her cheek I love, its soft and tender bloom; I love her sweet lips and the words they speak, Words wise or witty, full of joy or doom. I love her shoes, her gloves, her dainty dress; And all they clasp, and cling to, and caress. [ 244 1 COMPENSATION PINDAR, the Theban, sang to Hieron In Doric verse, rich as rough-hammered gold, The Immortals deal to men, now as of old, Two ill things for one good. These words, forth blown From such a trumpet, through the ages groan A note of misery. And yet I hold That though they deal us evils manifold We owe the High Powers gratitude alone. For one good may be worth a thousand ills; And all the sum of wretchedness that fills The travailing earth, the sea, the arching blue Cannot exceed the wealth of joy that lies In sweet, low words, in smiles and loving eyes Cannot compare with love, if love be true. 245 ] ESTRELLA MY love is like a planet in the sky Whereon a star-seer bends his reverent gaze, Waiting for those bright moments when its rays Flame out in beauty; then his raptured eye May trace its light and shadow; he may try To pluck in shreds its rainbow- tin ted blaze; But still unknown and vague the planet stays Throned in the luminous blue, serene and high. I, though I love and wonder, may not know. Too lofty for me is that magic lore. A sacred mystery folds evermore The thoughts that make her deep eyes flash and glow, The meaning of that slow smile's dazzling shine, The sweet, proud lips no kisses can make mine. [ 246 ] INFINITE VARIETY IN my one love are many loves entwined; Each hour makes me unfaithful to the last; The beauty present dims the beauty past; Of her worst rivals is her self combined. When she is pale, in her dear cheek I find The fairest shade on earth was ever cast; And if she blush, that hue is not surpassed In roses ruffled by the wanton wind. Sometimes her sweet lips droop to a purpose sad; Then all my soul in loving sympathy Burns to dispel her sadness with a kiss; And when they flash and curve in laughter glad, Around the corners of her mouth I see A swarm of hovering loves, sporting in bliss. 247 TO ONE ABSENT ONLY a week ago, heaven bent so near It bartered greetings with the jocund earth, The sweet June day was lived with love and mirth, A world of verdure laughed in summer cheer. And when night came its charm was doubly dear; Under that opulent moon joy knew no dearth; All beautiful and gracious things had birth In your eyes' cherishing light; for you were here. Now all that glow of life is vanished; lorn The world lies under the cold gleam of morn. Withered and shrinking in the spectral blue Hangs the sad moon, a pale and shuddering ghost Of all that glory in your absence lost Fading and waning, love, for lack of you. t 248 ] SLEEP I BLESS the power of this charmed summer night, I bless its magic and its mystery, Which in ecstatic visions brings to me The worshiped presence of my soul's delight. Mine eyes are sealed, but on my clearer sight Her heaven-bright features shine more radiantly, Her sweet voice with a richer melody Enchants the dark, more luminous than light. I miss the sense of daylight's haunting ills, Bathed in this lambent tide of sleep and love; I only see one dazzling image beam, Shrined in a rosy universe of dream, Fairer than Dian bending tranced above The sleeping shepherd on the Latmian hills. [ 249 1 EUTHANASIA TAKE from my hand, dear love, these opening flowers. Afar from thee they grew, 'neath alien skies Their stems sought light and life in humble wise, Fed by the careless suns and vagrant showers. But now their fate obeys the rule of ours. They pass to airs made glorious by thine eyes. Smit with swift joy, they breathe, hi fragrant sighs, Their souls out toward thee in their last glad hours, Paying leal tribute to a brighter bloom. Thus, and not other, is the giver's fate. Through years unblest by thee, a cheerless path, A checkered maze of common glare and gloom, He came to know in rapture deep though late How thou couldst brighten life and gentle death. [ 250 ] A PRAYER IN THESSALY A LOVER prayed to Eros in this wise: Since my love loves not me, Eros ! I pray That thou wilt take this torturing love away. But since she is so fair, still let mine eyes Unloving, joy in her, her beauty prize; Still let her clear voice ring as pure and gay To my calm heart as mating birds in May. The words went up the blue Thessalian skies. But ere they reached the high god's golden seat, The lover to retract his prayer was fain: Nay, let me keep the bitter with the sweet, Better than placid bliss is love's dear pain. My love I '11 hold and cherish though it prove More blighting than the frowning brows of Jove. [251 1 ACCIDENTS A VISION seen by Plato the divine: Two shuddering souls come forward, waiting doom From Rhadamanthus in the nether gloom. One is a slave hunger has made him pine; One is a king his arms and jewels shine, Making strange splendor in the dismal room. "Hence!" cries the judge, "and strip them! Let them come With nought to show if they be coarse or fine." Of garb and body they are swift bereft: Such is hell's law nothing but soul is left. The slave, in virtue glorious, is held fit For those blest isles of peace where just kings go. The king, by vice deformed, is sent below To herd with base slaves in the wailing pit. [ 252 J SONGS AND LYRICS VESPERS MY Star has vanished in the west, And with it dies the day, And all the rosy light of life Is fading into gray. The sky is full of other stars, But none to me are dear; Their silvery light fills all the night, But still the world is drear. Far in the west one tender flush The dim horizon stains, A memory of hours that were, A hope that yet remains. For, wheeling over many lands And brightly shining on, In happier days my Evening Star Will be my Star of Dawn. [2531 TO THE VESPER SPARROW SING the last word of the day ! Voice of the sparrow belated ! What hast thou seen by the way? What hast thou loved most or hated ? Sadness to melody mated, What is the grudge thou wouldst pay ? Work, is it sadder than play ? Sorrow or joy sooner sated ? Dreams the sweet blossom of May To what dull fruitage 't is fated? When life and death are translated, Seems Death or Life the more gay ? Linger, shy singer, O stay ! Though the swift night has abated Sky, lake, and woodland to gray. Long have we questioned and waited. Question and answer unmated Die with the vanishing day. [ 254 ] THY WILL BE DONE NOT in dumb resignation We lift our hands on high, Not like the nerveless fatalist, Content to trust and die. Our faith springs like the eagle Who soars to meet the sun, And cries exulting unto Thee, O Lord, Thy Will be done! When tyrant feet are trampling Upon the common weal, Thou dost not bid us bend and writhe Beneath the iron heel. In Thy name we assert our right By sword or tongue or pen, And even the headsman's axe may flash Thy message unto men. [2551 UNCOLLECTED PIECES Thy Will ! It bids the weak be strong, It bids the strong be just; No lip to fawn, no hand to beg, No brow to seek the dust. Wherever man oppresses man Beneath Thy liberal sun, O Lord, be there Thine arm made bare, Thy righteous will be done. EROS EPHEMERIS ENOUGH of thunderous passion That clouds life's weary way. Bid now in merrier fashion The jocund pulses play. Welcome the airy fancies That charm and pass away, The light loves, The bright loves, The loves that live a day. Too rude for mortal bosoms The storms that rage for aye; Ask not from frost the blossoms That deck the laughing May. Bid welcome all the gay loves That wither if they stay, The sweet loves, The fleet loves, The loves that live a day. [ 257 ] IS SHE HERE? HE came in victory's lambent flame 'Mid myriad shouts and trumpets' blare, While the glad people's loud acclaim Made vocal all the summer air. But while the cannon's thunder boomed Half -heard amid the loyal cry, And starry banners glowed and bloomed In beauty neath that western sky, He from the highway turned apart And to a quiet nook drew near, The dearest pulses of his heart Beating the question, "Is she here?" The glory well and hardly earned In civic toil and battle's fire Was all forgotten as he turned To meet his human heart's desire. [258} IS SHE HERE? And light as dust lay in the scale The favor of a flattering world Weighed by that joy which cannot fail In love and faith and honor furled. Like fire within the opal's heart, Like fragrance in the rose's breast, A sacred joy, serene, apart, The highest and the holiest. MATINS THE trembling pulses of the dawn Fill with faint glow the violet skies, And on the moist, day-smitten lawn The peace of morning lies. A blessed truce of woe and sin, A glad surcease of care's annoy; The waking world has pleasure in Its matin light and joy. And all the joy that fills the air, And all the light that gilds the blue, I see it in your eyes and hair, I know it, love, in you. O'er lips and eyes and golden floss There floats a charm I cannot reach, A glimpse of gain, a threat of loss, Beyond my subtlest speech. [260] MATINS The amethyst flush will fade above Into the dust-dim glare of noon: The love of youth, the youth of love, Will fade and pass as soon. Kiss close, belov'd ! for never yet Could love its bloom unchanging keep. There are no hearts but they forget, There are no eyes but sleep. SWEETEST AND DEAREST VAIN are all names To express what thou art, Gem, rose, or morning-star, Joy of my heart. Still do the fond old words Ring best and clearest Thou art my love, my own, Sweetest and dearest. Every warm heart-beat chimes These words to me; Needless all others Between me and thee. In the deep silences One voice thou nearest T is my heart calling thee Sweetest and dearest. [2621 REVEILLE FLY, poppied drowse, away ! Across the marshes sweep, Chasing the fallen moon, the shadows gray; Make me not laggard, Sleep ! Against the morning move, Fronting the reddening miles ! Touch the white eyelids of the girl I love, And fill her dreams with smiles. 263 1 TWO ON THE TERRACE WARM waves of lavish moonlight The Capitol enfold, As if a richer noon light Bathed its white walls with gold. The great bronze Freedom shining, Her crest in ether shrining, Peers eastward as divining The new day from the old. Mark the mild planet pouring Her splendor o'er the ground; See the white obelisk soaring To pierce the blue profound. Beneath the still heavens beaming, The lighted town lies gleaming, In guarded slumber dreaming A world without a sound. [264 ] TWO ON THE TERRACE No laughter and no sobbing From those dim roofs arise, The myriad pulses throbbing Are silent as the skies. To us their peace is given, The meed of spirits shriven; I see the wide, pure heaven Reflected in your eyes. Ah love! a thousand aeons Shall range their trooping years; The morning stars their paeans Shall sing to countless ears. These married States may sever, Strong Time this dome may shiver, But love shall last forever And lovers' hopes and fears. So let us send our greeting, A wish for trust and bliss, To future lovers meeting On far-off nights like this, [265 1 UNCOLLECTED PIECES Who, in these walls' undoing - Perforce of Time's rough wooing, Amid the crumbling ruin Shall meet, clasp hands, and kiss. "RHYMES" APPARENTLY COMPOSED DURING THE EARLY MONTHS OF THE CIVIL WAR SOWN sparsely through earth's lifetime there are hours That teem with giant forms of novel powers; When from an idler century's budding gloom The petals of an epoch burst to bloom, Vaguely revealing to the questioning skies Anthers and spikes of unfamiliar dyes; When through life's growing woof, run suddenly, Threads, dim presageful of the fate to be, And omens darkly from the distance stray, Like orient splendors out of morn's dull gray, Whispering low, as gather from afar The vague foreshadows of the distant war, The war-cries heavy with the hate of years The murmurous clashing of the myriad spears; Omens that presage not the honest fields Where alien mottoes mark opposing shields, [267] UNCOLLECTED PIECES Where loyal men-at-arms, with martial glee With sword blades carve an emperor's decree, Where trumpets wail and silken banners wave Proudly and mournfully o'er valor's grave; Far darker lowers the promise of the fight Which locks in desperate grapple wrong and right, Where o'er the legions of embattled hosts Float the dim shadows of indignant ghosts Where good and evil armed and regnant stand Shouting the battle cry to either band, And men thus fired with hate and vengeance grim Strive with the sinews of the Anakim And on the trampled turf distills the stain That tinged the sod of Armageddon's plain. At such a time Art sickens through the world, Song slumbers with lethargic pinions furled, Listless the painter at his easel stands, Drops the dulled chisel from the sculptor's hands, The harp hangs silent with untrembling chords For deeds are now more eloquent than words. [ 268 ] RHYMES As, when reluctant night is half-withdrawn, Steals on the wold the mystery of dawn, The grove may rustle with unquiet wings But never a bird from out his covert sings. But when the routed shadows break and flee And Light stands victor on the dew-lit lea Glad in the triumph, from the twittering throng How pours the jubilant cataract of song ! In this vague twilight poets silent wait While the stern Sisters chant the runes of fate. For fuller than the measure of their rhyme Swells the grand cadence of avenging Time, And deeper than the trembling of their chords The Anvil Chorus of the clashing swords. Not mine the task to wander far away Into the rose-mists of a happier day, To re-create beneath these leaden skies The hues of a forgotten Paradise, Or soothe the soul with love's voluptuous swells, Soft as a Lydian dancer's ankle-bells: [ 269] UNCOLLECTED PIECES Not this. For I have neither will nor power To scorn the regal summons of the hour And you '11 forgive the unmelodious rhyme That beats the jangled rhythm of the time, For never since the days of that July, Consecrate through all time to Liberty, Since the glad light of that grand summer morn Kissed the bright forehead of an empire born, Has any hour brought in its flight a freight So cumbered with the mysteries of fate. While all the earth in dread suspense is bowed, We can but watch the piling of the cloud. Out of its depths no blinding flash has come, Still sleep inert the inner thunders dumb. Until this cloud and gloom be overpast And the torn mist goes sailing down the blast And the glad earth, green in the springtime rain, Laughs with the sunshine and the flowers again, Of fairer themes what man shall dare to sing ? The lute is silent, while the trumpets ring. [ 270 1 RHYMES And Pleasure's lilt, and Fancy's airy play Wait for the freedom of a brighter day. In the proud chronicles of a future age These passing days will fill the proudest page, Topping the landmarks of the coming time, The beacons of to-day will loom sublime. This is our hour supreme: this storm and stress Shall blot or vindicate our worthiness. This is the promise vague of fate's decree And other hours have been that this might be. Far back through elder years and distant climes Shines the stern presage of the passing times. To keep the truth now periled, bright and pure, The people fought their King on Marston Moor, Where curled court darlings sank to death's eclipse Sweet names of English ladies on their lips, And still the tyrant-hating lifestream ran Hot from the gashed veins of the Puritan. [271] UNCOLLECTED PIECES Charged with the germ of days to come like these, The Mayflower shivering sailed the wintry seas And her stern crew beneath that iron sky Sang their first hymn to God and Liberty. INDEXES INDEX OF FIRST LINES A hundred times the bells of Brown 151 A lover prayed to Eros in this wise 251 A sentinel angel sitting high in glory 57 A squad of regular infantry 63 A vision' seen by Plato the Divine 252 As I lay at your feet that afternoon 186 At eve when the brief wintry day is sped 237 Daily walked the fair and lovely 215 Dawn gilded over dunes of sand 228 Double flutes and horns resound 213 Down the dim West slow falls the stricken sun 188 Each shining light above us 93 Ef the way a man lights out of this world 17 Enough of thunderous passion 257 Fly, poppied drowse, away 263 God send me tears! 169 Good Luck is the gayest of all gay girls 216 Had we but met in other days 164 He came in victory's lambent flame 258 He stood before the Sanhedrim 118 How well my heart remembers 138 I bless the power of this charmed summer night 249 I don't go much on religion 6 I dreamed I was in fair Niphon 99 I gazed upon my love while music smote 243 I '11 tell the story, kissing 66 I love a woman tenderly 92 I pray you, pardon me, Elsie 159 I 275 1 INDEX OF FIRST LINES I reckon I git your drift, gents 10 I sat on a worm fence talking 225 I sent my love two roses, one 109 I stand at the break of day 29 I stood on the top of Pitz Languard 59 I strove like Israel, with my youth 94 I tore this weed from the rank dark soil > 47 I wandered through a careless world 179 If Heaven would hear my prayer 84 In my one love are many loves entwined 247 In the dewy depths of the graveyard 146 In the dim chamber whence but yesterday 91 In the dream of the Northern poets 81 In the whole wide world there was but one 173 In wandering through waste places of the world 240 It's all very well for preachin' 21 King Saloman looked from his donjon bars 44 Land of unconquered Pelayo! land of the Cid Campeador. 38 Let them say to my lover 219 Let your feet not falter, your course not alter 212 Love, in this summer night, do you recall 238 Low in the west the moon's slim crescent swings 234 My dear wife sits beside the fire 143 My love is like a planet in the sky 246 My short and happy day is done 98 My star has vanished in the west 253 Not done, but near its ending 41 Not in dumb resignation 255 O beauteous daughter of a mighty race! 233 O grandly flowing River! 171 On Tabor's height a glory came [ 115 On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn 77 One day in the Tuileries 61 One day the Sultan grand and grim 207 Only a week ago, heaven bent so near 248 Out of the Latin Quarter 35 [276] INDEX OF FIRST LINES Pindar, the Theban, sang to Hieron 245 Roll on, O shining sun 87 Sad is the thought of sunniest days 133 Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine" 162 She lived shut in by flowers and trees 74 Sing the last word of the day! 254 Slow flapping to the setting sun 131 Son of a sire whose heart beat ever true 232 Sown sparsely through earth's lifetime there are hours 267 Take from my hand, dear love, these opening flowers 250 The beauty of the Northern dawns 86 The Countess Jutta passed over the Rhine 209 The darkest, strangest mystery 14 The King was sick. His cheek was red 62 The knightly legend of thy shield betrays 134 The lady of my love bids me not love her 244 The luminous pages of all story prove 242 The mirthful gods who ruled o'er greater Greece 235 The skies are blue above my head 148 The song of Kilvani: fairest she 111 The trembling pulses of the dawn 260 The winter wind is raving fierce and shrill 156 There are two mountains hallowed 121 There's a happy time coming 135 There was a red star stone, old poets feign 241 There was never a castle seen 70 Through the long days and years 176 'T is love that blinds my heart and eyes 167 To Peter by night the faithfullest came 124 Trembling of purple banners in the fight 239 Two thousand years these temples have been old 236 Under the high unclouded sun 140 Vain are all names 262 Wall, no! I can't tell where he lives 3 Warm waves of lavish moonlight 264 [ 277 ] INDEX OF FIRST LINES What man is there so bold that he should say 107 When April woke the drowsy flowers 89 When by Jabbok the patriarch waited 127 When I behold thee. O my indolent love 217 When I look on thee and feel how dear 211 When violets were springing 97 When Youth's warm heart beats high, my friend 159 Wise men I hold those rakes of old 177 Wisely a woman prefers to a lover a man who neglects her 181 INDEX OF TITLES (The titles of general divisions are set in small capitals) Accidents 252 God's Vengeance 162 Advance Guard, The 81 Golden Calf, The 212 "After You, Pilot " 228 Golyer 17 Amor Mysticus 219 Good and Bad Luck 216 Amour du Mensonge, L' 217 Guy of the Temple 188 Atavism 233 Azra, The 215 Haunted Room, A 91 Helen's Star Stone 241 Banty Tim 10 How It Happened 159 Benoni Dunn 225 Blessing, A 211 In a Graveyard 146 Blondine 179 In the Firelight 143 Boudoir Prophecies 61 Infinite Variety 247 Is She Here 258 Centennial 151 Israel 127 Challenge, A 242 Christine 86 Jim Bludso 3 Compensation 245 Countess Jutta 209 Lagrimas 169 Crows at Washington, The 131 Law of Death, The 111 Curse of Hungary, The 44 Lese-Amour 138 Liberty 107 Distichs 181 Light of Love 93 Dream of Brioa-Brac, A 99 Little Breeches 6 Dreams 92 Love and Music 243 Love's Dawn 240 Enchanted Shirt, The 52 Love's Doubt 167 Ernst of Edelsheim 66 Love's Prayer 84 Eros Ephemeris 257 Esse Qiiarn Videri 134 Matins 260 Estrella 246 Miles Keogh's Horse 77 Euthanasia 250 Monks of Basle, The 47 Expectation 87 Mount Tabor 115 My Castle in Spain 70 Flora, To 89 Mystery of Gilgal, The 14 [ 279 ] INDEX OF TITLES NEW AND OLD Night in Venice Northward Obedience On Pitz Languard On the Bluff Psestrun Peace Phylactery, A PIKE COUNTY BALLADS, THE Pledge at Spunky Point, The Prairie, The Prayer in Thessaly, A Prayer of the Romans, The QuandMeme Regardant Religion and Doctrine Remorse Reveille "Rhymes" Roosevelt, Theodore, To 75 Sunrise in the Place de la Con- 238 corde 9 140 Surrender of Spain, The 98 Sweetest and Dearest 262 244 59 Thanatos Athanatos 237 171 Through the Long Days 170 Thy Will Be Done K6 236 To Flora m 239 To One Absent MB 177 j To the Vesper Sparrow 2o4 1 | To the Young 212 21 To Theodore Roosevelt m 148 Too Late 104 251 TRANSLATIONS 20-5 41 Triumph of Order, A n Twilight on Sandusky Marsh 234 94 j Two on the Terrace 264 186 j Una 173 118 I UNCOLLECTED PIECES 223 183 I Vesper Sparrow, To the 254 Vespers 253 Vision of SL Peter, The 14 Sinai and Calvary 121 Sister Saint Luke 74 Sleep 249 Sorrento 235 Sphinx of the Tuiferies, The 35 Stirrup Cup, The 98 Student-Song 157 WAXDEBLIEDER 27 Way to Heaven, The 207 When the Boys Come Home 135 White Flag, The 109 Winter Night, A 156 Woman's Love, A 57 Words 97 CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE BnWe JUHftfe stamped below. BMJRL EB 1 1367 KEC'D LD-URO J jyt? w/ 1 JUL1019WI OCT 1W75 L9-Series 4939 3 1158 00231 8748