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Fourth Chain.
I.
In the last quarter of this century—This grand, electric-lighted century—
This steam-propelled, far-speaking century—
That called the idle vapors to their work,
Made giants of them, gave them arms of steel,
And made them toil ere to their sport returned—
That caught the fire-fly lightnings on the wing,
And caged them into lamps that kill the dark—
Century that confirms the Arabian Nights—
Century with the blossom and the fruit
Of eons that have grown through tears and blood—
Century to be quoted as that one
Wherein Man first declared by deed that he
Was emperor of all the elements;
This quick-nerved, high-strung nineteenth century,
That found new hideous ways for War to use
In killing, and thus made Peace fashionable;
This century that soon, with toll of bell,
And trumpet-peal, and boom of brazen gun,
And shouts of men, half joyful and half sad,
Shall close its clanging gate for evermore—
It is not strange that we should wonder oft
What legends maybe will be told of us
In the strange, silent century next to come.
In the new, waiting years so soon to come—
When boys that now sport laughing in the streets
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Of frivolous boys, and making dividends
With their grim silent partner—Rheumatism;
When tiny girls, now perching on our knees,
Become old ladies, dignified and prim;
When “Eighteen hundred” shall a memory be,
And “Nineteen hundred” sound like old friends' names—
Perchance the children may some legends hear
Of this last quarter of this century:
Tell them of Grant's too-soon pathetic death.
How the old chief so silently encamped
In the King-city—two long mournful days,
And the weird mournful nights that flitted round;
How past his solemn bed sad thousands marched
To see him, ere the coverlid was drawn
O'er his pale face forever; how at last
His great black hearse crept up the broad highway
'Twixt marble palaces thick cloaked in crape,
And crowded close with hushed and bowing forms;
How clans that late had sought each other's blood
Now arm in arm marched with the conqueror;
And how the requiem guns that greeted him
At his half-made but some day gorgeous tent
Shook not the city more than did its grief.
Tell this to them—although may be forgotten
Amid the century's whirl—this funeral-song:
THE CAPTAIN IS ASLEEP.
Let the muffled drums mourn
Heavy and deep,
And flags with crape be borne:
The Captain is asleep.
On a hushed and solemn bed,
Alone he lies.
Tender words of him are said,
There are waiting for his hands
Love bouquets from many lands;
But he will not rise.
Heavy and deep,
And flags with crape be borne:
The Captain is asleep.
On a hushed and solemn bed,
Alone he lies.
Tender words of him are said,
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Love bouquets from many lands;
But he will not rise.
Never in his childhood days
Such slumber came;
Nor ere war's electric blaze
Streamed o'er his name,
When, through eyes with watching dim,
His young mother bent o'er him,
Wreathing hopes upon his brow,
Did he sleep so well as now.
Such slumber came;
Nor ere war's electric blaze
Streamed o'er his name,
When, through eyes with watching dim,
His young mother bent o'er him,
Wreathing hopes upon his brow,
Did he sleep so well as now.
Let the silver horns trail
Anthems that weep:
Let them voice the early tale
Of the Captain asleep;
Tell the struggles that he knew
Ere his life-work stood in view,
And the clouds that vexed his eyes
Ere his star flashed through the skies.
Anthems that weep:
Let them voice the early tale
Of the Captain asleep;
Tell the struggles that he knew
Ere his life-work stood in view,
And the clouds that vexed his eyes
Ere his star flashed through the skies.
Men, you must his mourners be,
For he was brave.
Harvester of courage, he
Knew when to save.
Cruel as the tiger's fang
Until war was done,
He would soothe the smallest pang
When the strife was won.
Only death could conquer him,
And his fight with that was grim.
As in his best days of pride,
Hero to the last he died.
For he was brave.
Harvester of courage, he
Knew when to save.
Cruel as the tiger's fang
Until war was done,
He would soothe the smallest pang
When the strife was won.
Only death could conquer him,
And his fight with that was grim.
As in his best days of pride,
Hero to the last he died.
Women, holy in his eyes
Was the pureness that you prize.
Palaces round him had smiled,
Kingly shows his days beguiled;
But he loved and sought release,
Turned from lofty spire and dome,
Came for comfort and for peace
To the fireside of his home.
Was the pureness that you prize.
Palaces round him had smiled,
Kingly shows his days beguiled;
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Turned from lofty spire and dome,
Came for comfort and for peace
To the fireside of his home.
Fame, you have done your best
For the Warrior of the West,
Who, with grand, heroic rush,
Reached your regions at a leap.
Sound his praise again!—but hush!
The Captain is asleep.
Slumbering early; but 'tis best
That the weary man should rest.
He has had the care and strife,
Ten times over, of a life.
For the Warrior of the West,
Who, with grand, heroic rush,
Reached your regions at a leap.
Sound his praise again!—but hush!
The Captain is asleep.
Slumbering early; but 'tis best
That the weary man should rest.
He has had the care and strife,
Ten times over, of a life.
Grief, you came when Rest
Should have thrown her spell—
You were of rare barbs possessed—
Oh, you pierced him well!
It is brave to fall and die
With an arrow in the heart;
It is noble, great, and high
To live and bear its smart.
Sound so grand was never heard
As is pain without a word.
Should have thrown her spell—
You were of rare barbs possessed—
Oh, you pierced him well!
It is brave to fall and die
With an arrow in the heart;
It is noble, great, and high
To live and bear its smart.
Sound so grand was never heard
As is pain without a word.
Let the drums cease to mourn—
Let the clouds break;
Let the badge of grief be torn;
The Captain is awake!
Warriors brave in yonder land,
Who once lingered here,
Grasp our Chieftain by the hand.
Give him friendly cheer!
Let the clouds break;
Let the badge of grief be torn;
The Captain is awake!
Warriors brave in yonder land,
Who once lingered here,
Grasp our Chieftain by the hand.
Give him friendly cheer!
II.
Or tell them of the fair ambassadress
That France—hot-veined republic of the East—
Sent to her sister of the Western waves
Bearing the magic torch of liberty:
France—she who with her aid long years ago,
Gave us the eagle—type of Victory:
That France—hot-veined republic of the East—
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Bearing the magic torch of liberty:
France—she who with her aid long years ago,
Gave us the eagle—type of Victory:
THE VESTAL.
Into the bay—the great, wide, wealth-fringed bay,
Whose every tide sweeps hamlets to our shores—
Where king-slaves have their fetters struck away—
Whence can be read, on the new nation's doors,
“Leave hopelessness behind, who enters here!”
Harbor of hope!—invaded, without fear,
By ships of labor, sailed from rotting ports,
And toil whose plumage had been stol'n by courts—
Into that bay, a virgin-guest comes nigh,
And holds her lamp unto the star-gemmed sky.
Whose every tide sweeps hamlets to our shores—
Where king-slaves have their fetters struck away—
Whence can be read, on the new nation's doors,
“Leave hopelessness behind, who enters here!”
Harbor of hope!—invaded, without fear,
By ships of labor, sailed from rotting ports,
And toil whose plumage had been stol'n by courts—
Into that bay, a virgin-guest comes nigh,
And holds her lamp unto the star-gemmed sky.
They sent her from that empire of the East,
Whose “king” hath dynasty the same as ours;
From the rich harvest, and the vineyard-feast;
From glistening domes, and ivy-mantled towers.
Peasants have toiled, throughout the sultry day,
The tributes of her ocean-march to pay;
The artisan has wrought, that she might rise
And smile into his western brother's eyes;
The thought-smith—he with busy heart and brain—
Helped feed her torch that gleams across the main.
Whose “king” hath dynasty the same as ours;
From the rich harvest, and the vineyard-feast;
From glistening domes, and ivy-mantled towers.
Peasants have toiled, throughout the sultry day,
The tributes of her ocean-march to pay;
The artisan has wrought, that she might rise
And smile into his western brother's eyes;
The thought-smith—he with busy heart and brain—
Helped feed her torch that gleams across the main.
She brings to us a century that is past;
The legend of a gift of long agone;
A favor that like diamonds shall last,
And gleam but brighter as the years gloom on.
They gave us gold when recompense was doubt;
Perish the greed that blots that memory out!
They gave us hope, when our own star had set;
May the brain soften that would shun the debt!
They gave us heroes, with a fame as bright
As mountain watch-fires on a winter's night.
The legend of a gift of long agone;
A favor that like diamonds shall last,
And gleam but brighter as the years gloom on.
They gave us gold when recompense was doubt;
Perish the greed that blots that memory out!
They gave us hope, when our own star had set;
May the brain soften that would shun the debt!
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As mountain watch-fires on a winter's night.
Stand, Vestal, with thy virgin flame e'er clear,
And guard our future pilgrims to their rest
In the great city, where, year after year,
Their march shall feed our never-failing West.
Tell those who hated greed, and hurried thence,
That honest toil hath here a recompense;
Say to the lawless—whosoe'er they be—
That men must live obedient, to live free;
And sing for us, o'er the blue waves' expanse—
“With all our faults and thine, we love thee, France!”
And guard our future pilgrims to their rest
In the great city, where, year after year,
Their march shall feed our never-failing West.
Tell those who hated greed, and hurried thence,
That honest toil hath here a recompense;
Say to the lawless—whosoe'er they be—
That men must live obedient, to live free;
And sing for us, o'er the blue waves' expanse—
“With all our faults and thine, we love thee, France!”
Nearly all classes of the French people contributed toward the cost of sending us Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty.
III.
Or tell them of the years when our long coast
Lay prosperous, but defenceless; all that while
That other nations blotted the free sky
With the black plumage of their war-ships' smoke;
And our Unbuilt Ship sang a gloomy song
And strove to rouse the nation's fear and pride:
Lay prosperous, but defenceless; all that while
That other nations blotted the free sky
With the black plumage of their war-ships' smoke;
And our Unbuilt Ship sang a gloomy song
And strove to rouse the nation's fear and pride:
SONG OF THE UNBUILT SHIP.
They were making me a king of the sea,
The ocean's pride and fear;
But ere I was done the world moved on,
And left me stranded here—
To the world's sharp eyes an enterprise
That ere it was tested failed;
A ruin low that was always so,
A wreck that has ne'er been sailed.
I sit and cower 'neath many an hour
That drearily drifts to me;
But visions have they from far away,
And these are the sights I see:
The ocean's pride and fear;
But ere I was done the world moved on,
And left me stranded here—
To the world's sharp eyes an enterprise
That ere it was tested failed;
A ruin low that was always so,
A wreck that has ne'er been sailed.
I sit and cower 'neath many an hour
That drearily drifts to me;
But visions have they from far away,
And these are the sights I see:
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Grim men who toil at blades that spoil,
In populous far-off lands;
And murderer-guns that Art's rough sons
Mould hot in their giant hands;
Steel diggers of graves, that walk the waves,
And rule with their rude alarms,
Or cripple and kill with close-eyed skill,
And long, invisible arms.
Oh, a wondrous shower of godlike power
This grand decade can boast:
But what if it frown on shipping and town
Of a long, defenceless coast?
In populous far-off lands;
And murderer-guns that Art's rough sons
Mould hot in their giant hands;
Steel diggers of graves, that walk the waves,
And rule with their rude alarms,
Or cripple and kill with close-eyed skill,
And long, invisible arms.
Oh, a wondrous shower of godlike power
This grand decade can boast:
But what if it frown on shipping and town
Of a long, defenceless coast?
For the great star-ships now suffer eclipse
That were from the forest born,
And boats that have birth in the mines of earth
Are laughing us all to scorn.
The nation that gave to the watchful wave
Its swift and strongest guest,
With triumph is done, and her ocean-sun
Stands low in the blushing west.
O world just made, your grandeur is weighed,
Your treasuries all men know;
But why should you seek a wealth too weak
To guard you against a foe?
That were from the forest born,
And boats that have birth in the mines of earth
Are laughing us all to scorn.
The nation that gave to the watchful wave
Its swift and strongest guest,
With triumph is done, and her ocean-sun
Stands low in the blushing west.
O world just made, your grandeur is weighed,
Your treasuries all men know;
But why should you seek a wealth too weak
To guard you against a foe?
You may gild your domes and adorn your homes,
Proud men of the Rich New Land;
But what are they worth if half the earth
Is fired by a war's red brand?
The watchmen sleep of the banks that keep
A continent's wealth in store:
Say, where are your locks when an enemy knocks
With clenched hand at the door?
Your daughters and wives, whose winsome lives
Make every land more fair—
What have you, then, O thoughtless men,
To guard them from despair?
Proud men of the Rich New Land;
But what are they worth if half the earth
Is fired by a war's red brand?
The watchmen sleep of the banks that keep
A continent's wealth in store:
Say, where are your locks when an enemy knocks
With clenched hand at the door?
Your daughters and wives, whose winsome lives
Make every land more fair—
What have you, then, O thoughtless men,
To guard them from despair?
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I see bright gold into tablets rolled;
I see iron leagues of ore:
Rouse up with a zeal for the nation's weal,
And carry them to the shore!
The power to defend holds many a friend;
Force oft shows clear the right;
The surest lease of comfort and peace
Is a sturdy strength to fight.
Let walls of iron your treasurers environ,
As well as of heart and brain;
Shun heedless guilt! and the ship unbuilt
May not have sung in vain.
I see iron leagues of ore:
Rouse up with a zeal for the nation's weal,
And carry them to the shore!
The power to defend holds many a friend;
Force oft shows clear the right;
The surest lease of comfort and peace
Is a sturdy strength to fight.
Let walls of iron your treasurers environ,
As well as of heart and brain;
Shun heedless guilt! and the ship unbuilt
May not have sung in vain.
IV.
Or tell them of the hideous, creeping beast,
That trailed its slime along our grandest walks,
That named a million kings Laöcoon,
That twined around the fairest and the best,
And crushed them in its anaconda-coils;
That crept into our homes, and not content
With driving mortals from their Paradise,
Would make even that a hell.
That trailed its slime along our grandest walks,
That named a million kings Laöcoon,
That twined around the fairest and the best,
And crushed them in its anaconda-coils;
That crept into our homes, and not content
With driving mortals from their Paradise,
Would make even that a hell.
THE SERPENT OF THE STILL.
The tempter, as God's legends tell—
Allowed on earth to roam—
Crushed that which Woman loves so well,
Her sweet and sacred home.
From Eden, lost through his black art,
She wandered out forlorn;
She cursed him in her gentle heart
With meek but deadly scorn.
And since, in varied guise of sin,
He works his hateful will,
And reappears to-day within
The serpent of the still.
Allowed on earth to roam—
Crushed that which Woman loves so well,
Her sweet and sacred home.
From Eden, lost through his black art,
She wandered out forlorn;
She cursed him in her gentle heart
With meek but deadly scorn.
And since, in varied guise of sin,
He works his hateful will,
And reappears to-day within
The serpent of the still.
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He comes not now in subtle mood—
With smiles, as long ago—
Enticing her by honeyed food,
And mysteries she may know;
He makes insulting, swift advance
Into her bright home-nest,
Admitted and embraced, perchance,
By those she loves the best.
He brings the world where he must dwell,
Her days and nights to fill,
Transmuting Paradise to Hell—
This serpent of the still!
With smiles, as long ago—
Enticing her by honeyed food,
And mysteries she may know;
He makes insulting, swift advance
Into her bright home-nest,
Admitted and embraced, perchance,
By those she loves the best.
He brings the world where he must dwell,
Her days and nights to fill,
Transmuting Paradise to Hell—
This serpent of the still!
He twines about her trembling life,
And soils it with his slime;
He fills the hours with foolish strife,
He sows the seeds of crime.
And Poverty and fierce Disease,
And Hunger and Disgrace,
And Death by death-empanged degrees,
Are in his cold embrace.
To grieve, to hurt, to rend, to smite,
To ruin, and to kill,
Are leaden links of his delight—
The serpent of the still!
And soils it with his slime;
He fills the hours with foolish strife,
He sows the seeds of crime.
And Poverty and fierce Disease,
And Hunger and Disgrace,
And Death by death-empanged degrees,
Are in his cold embrace.
To grieve, to hurt, to rend, to smite,
To ruin, and to kill,
Are leaden links of his delight—
The serpent of the still!
Rouse, woman, in your quiet power,
Your heart's man-withering frown,
Your hand that rules the festal hour,
And crush the monster down!
You shape the human form and soul,
You mark the infant's way,
Youth's fancy you can oft control,
Man's action you can sway:
Bend every blessing of your life
To fight its deadliest ill!
Strike—daughter, maiden, widow, wife—
This serpent of the still!
Your heart's man-withering frown,
Your hand that rules the festal hour,
And crush the monster down!
You shape the human form and soul,
You mark the infant's way,
Youth's fancy you can oft control,
Man's action you can sway:
Bend every blessing of your life
To fight its deadliest ill!
Strike—daughter, maiden, widow, wife—
This serpent of the still!
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