The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme The witch of Shiloh, the last of the Wampanoags, the gentle earl, the enchanted voyage |
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THE ENCHANTED VOYAGE |
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 | The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme |  |
157
IV
THE ENCHANTED VOYAGE
I
Hurrah for Downing! He had done
Such doughty deeds that Freedom's sun
Had often paused in middle sky
To hear his fearful charging cry,
And rushed through many a sleepless night
To see the morn's appointed fight.
Such doughty deeds that Freedom's sun
Had often paused in middle sky
To hear his fearful charging cry,
And rushed through many a sleepless night
To see the morn's appointed fight.
Alone our rustic Joshua fought,
Yet such deliverance had wrought
That all New England's sacred coasts
Were clear of Tories, save as ghosts,
While Britons, Hessians, Mingos, witches
Had fled, or filled their final ditches.
Yet such deliverance had wrought
That all New England's sacred coasts
Were clear of Tories, save as ghosts,
While Britons, Hessians, Mingos, witches
Had fled, or filled their final ditches.
In short, the Downeast land was freed
From tyrant's breed and Tophet's creed;
And every Yankee man might raise
His garden-sauce and hymns of praise,
Nor fear lest Tories, sly as moles,
Should hack his independence poles;
Lest purchased bravos, foreign-born,
Should cut his throat and purse and corn;
Lest wizard pinches, pricks and beatings
Should interrupt his evening meetings.
From tyrant's breed and Tophet's creed;
And every Yankee man might raise
His garden-sauce and hymns of praise,
Nor fear lest Tories, sly as moles,
Should hack his independence poles;
Lest purchased bravos, foreign-born,
Should cut his throat and purse and corn;
Lest wizard pinches, pricks and beatings
Should interrupt his evening meetings.
158
II
But Downing might not cease his labor,
Nor even wipe his bloody sabre
While foeman trampled any tittle
Of earth where humans guess and whittle.
How could he think of crops and cattle,
How think of anything but battle,
While demon-fleets in weird processions
Imported hordes of Belial's Hessians
To captivate and slay his fellows
Beyond the Hudson's crystal billows,
Or sleep their beery sleep and fatten
Upon the sacred isle, Manhattan?
Nor even wipe his bloody sabre
While foeman trampled any tittle
Of earth where humans guess and whittle.
How could he think of crops and cattle,
How think of anything but battle,
While demon-fleets in weird processions
Imported hordes of Belial's Hessians
To captivate and slay his fellows
Beyond the Hudson's crystal billows,
Or sleep their beery sleep and fatten
Upon the sacred isle, Manhattan?
Thus roused to fury, Downing thundered
Such words that even Shiloh wondered,
And feared lest toils too elephantic
Had driven the Yankee Sampson frantic.
Such words that even Shiloh wondered,
And feared lest toils too elephantic
Had driven the Yankee Sampson frantic.
“I'll build,” he roared with indignation,
“A fleet to save our chosen nation;
I'll cruise about the briny surges
In spite of Guildhall's demiurges;
I'll harry all the tarnal regions
That breed the sassage-eating legions,
And drive Apollyon's self to wrestle
Like mad to save his Hesse Cassel.”
“A fleet to save our chosen nation;
I'll cruise about the briny surges
In spite of Guildhall's demiurges;
I'll harry all the tarnal regions
That breed the sassage-eating legions,
And drive Apollyon's self to wrestle
Like mad to save his Hesse Cassel.”
III
So, grinding axe and chisel bright,
And felling trees o'er hill and dale,
He joinered out with Yankee sleight
A squadron of a single sail
About as terrible to meet
As Jefferson's mosquito fleet.
And felling trees o'er hill and dale,
159
A squadron of a single sail
About as terrible to meet
As Jefferson's mosquito fleet.
But like ingenious Crusoe, he
Forgot that seamen need the sea,
And built his ocean-scourge at home,
A score of miles from ocean's foam,
Where certainly she never struck
Her flag to foeman's better luck,
But also never shone in fray,
Nor ever made a knot a day;
For even clippers cannot travel
A sheet of cobblestone and gravel.
Forgot that seamen need the sea,
And built his ocean-scourge at home,
A score of miles from ocean's foam,
Where certainly she never struck
Her flag to foeman's better luck,
But also never shone in fray,
Nor ever made a knot a day;
For even clippers cannot travel
A sheet of cobblestone and gravel.
But genius finds all things a school,
And learns from errors how to rule.
Our skipper's purpose faltered not
Because he failed to sail a lot.
He saw that he must seek the main,
Or launch his navies all in vain;
That nothing short of ocean's roar
Would answer for a commodore.
And learns from errors how to rule.
Our skipper's purpose faltered not
Because he failed to sail a lot.
He saw that he must seek the main,
Or launch his navies all in vain;
That nothing short of ocean's roar
Would answer for a commodore.
Instructed thus, he climbed astride
His horse, as country vikings ride,
And journeyed south a summer day,
Enquiring all the drouthy way
If any seaport, wharf or pier
Existed near the vasty mere,
And also where a Whiggish grip
Might clapperclaw a Tory ship.
His horse, as country vikings ride,
And journeyed south a summer day,
Enquiring all the drouthy way
If any seaport, wharf or pier
Existed near the vasty mere,
And also where a Whiggish grip
Might clapperclaw a Tory ship.
160
IV
At last he spied a glorious sight,
The blue Atlantic, jeweled bright
With countless ripples, shining keen
As facets graved in tourmaline;
And just below the bowldered hill
Whereon he paused to gaze his fill,
He found the very thing he lacked
To be an ocean god in fact.
The blue Atlantic, jeweled bright
With countless ripples, shining keen
As facets graved in tourmaline;
And just below the bowldered hill
Whereon he paused to gaze his fill,
He found the very thing he lacked
To be an ocean god in fact.
Beside the drowsy, nodding sedge
That rimmed a tiny haven's edge,
Where baby billows romped and laughed
As though their feather-heads were daft,
He found a jaunty coasting craft,
(At anchor, though with canvas spread,)
Which had a mast and figure-head
And boom and rudder, like the one
Himself had built a month agone;
Whereat he thanked the kindly skies
And claimed the sloop as lawful prize.
That rimmed a tiny haven's edge,
Where baby billows romped and laughed
As though their feather-heads were daft,
He found a jaunty coasting craft,
(At anchor, though with canvas spread,)
Which had a mast and figure-head
And boom and rudder, like the one
Himself had built a month agone;
Whereat he thanked the kindly skies
And claimed the sloop as lawful prize.
Some thieving tories lurked aboard
Who promptly died by Freedom's sword,
For vagabonds of traitor kind
Were not a whit to Downing's mind,
And rarely fled his noble hate
Withouten loss of limb or pate,
As crabs escape from mortal rout
Because their legs and tails pull out.
Who promptly died by Freedom's sword,
For vagabonds of traitor kind
Were not a whit to Downing's mind,
And rarely fled his noble hate
Withouten loss of limb or pate,
As crabs escape from mortal rout
Because their legs and tails pull out.
The skirmish done, the pirates slain,
Our chieftain snapped the anchor chain
And turned without a change of face
To challenge Fortune's weird embrace.
He turned his back on natal shore
And all the life he lived before.
Alone he dared the protean sea;
Alone, yet confident that he
Would surely reach the other beach
And spoil the men of Teuton speech,
And make their Thor and Odin flee.
Our chieftain snapped the anchor chain
161
To challenge Fortune's weird embrace.
He turned his back on natal shore
And all the life he lived before.
Alone he dared the protean sea;
Alone, yet confident that he
Would surely reach the other beach
And spoil the men of Teuton speech,
And make their Thor and Odin flee.
V
But eftersoon, beneath his feet,
He heard a sharp refrain of greet,
And then he thought the plaining tone
Was like his darling Esther's own,
The voice to him of sweetest sound
In all our fallen planet's round.
He heard a sharp refrain of greet,
And then he thought the plaining tone
Was like his darling Esther's own,
The voice to him of sweetest sound
In all our fallen planet's round.
He leaped below; he found her there
Begirt with many a link and snare,
So bound by that piratic crew
Whose blood besmirched the rearward blue.
He snapped her bonds like brittle glass,
Or tender withes of summer grass,
And might have bursted them the same,
No matter what their stuff and frame;
For wondrous wight was he in might
As any giant fame can cite,
Far huskier than men we raise
In these degenerate, mawkish days
When philanthropic frenzy saves
Unworthy types from clement graves,
And holds in mischievous subjection
The law of natural selection.
Begirt with many a link and snare,
So bound by that piratic crew
Whose blood besmirched the rearward blue.
He snapped her bonds like brittle glass,
Or tender withes of summer grass,
And might have bursted them the same,
No matter what their stuff and frame;
For wondrous wight was he in might
As any giant fame can cite,
Far huskier than men we raise
In these degenerate, mawkish days
When philanthropic frenzy saves
162
And holds in mischievous subjection
The law of natural selection.
VI
A thrilling tale the daughter told,
Right strange to folk of modern mould,
Though like adventures often came
To gracious maids of Grecian name,
To Andromeda by the shore,
To Proserpine and many more.
Right strange to folk of modern mould,
Though like adventures often came
To gracious maids of Grecian name,
To Andromeda by the shore,
To Proserpine and many more.
She walked at eve a lonely wood,
Reciting hymns in dreamy mood,
And watching rapt the boreal lights
That filled the hollow sky with flights
Of saintly ghosts in bright attire,
Ascending swift on wings of fire;
When all at once the glory died
And shudders through the forest sighed,
And crickets hushed their cheery shout,
And fireflies put their lanterns out,
As though a mighty fiend drew near
Who draped effulgent night in fear.
Reciting hymns in dreamy mood,
And watching rapt the boreal lights
That filled the hollow sky with flights
Of saintly ghosts in bright attire,
Ascending swift on wings of fire;
When all at once the glory died
And shudders through the forest sighed,
And crickets hushed their cheery shout,
And fireflies put their lanterns out,
As though a mighty fiend drew near
Who draped effulgent night in fear.
Then overhead the branches clove,
And through the trembling shadows drove
A sombre form without a form,
No doubt a wraith of night and storm,
Who lifted her on gloomy plumes
Athwart the evening's ghostly brumes
O'er glinting lake and woodland brown
And frowning crag and glimmering town,
To leave her captivate with those
Who lately fell by Downing's blows.
And through the trembling shadows drove
A sombre form without a form,
No doubt a wraith of night and storm,
Who lifted her on gloomy plumes
Athwart the evening's ghostly brumes
O'er glinting lake and woodland brown
163
To leave her captivate with those
Who lately fell by Downing's blows.
Which tale her father never doubted,
Because, although his arm had routed
The wizard hordes and goblin legions
In manifold New England regions,
He knew a fiendish remnant scouted
From point to point as Satan's skinners
To plague the saints and help the sinners.
Because, although his arm had routed
The wizard hordes and goblin legions
In manifold New England regions,
He knew a fiendish remnant scouted
From point to point as Satan's skinners
To plague the saints and help the sinners.
VII
Rejoiced to meet his child again
And break anew Apollyon's chain,
Our commodore pursued his cruise
And found no little to amuse
A Yankee fond of information
Who loved to study all creation.
And break anew Apollyon's chain,
Our commodore pursued his cruise
And found no little to amuse
A Yankee fond of information
Who loved to study all creation.
Around him, thick and tame as sheep,
Appeared the wonders of the deep;
Sea-serpents two miles long, or more,
(For Downing often called it four),
Reefs overrun with ocean maids
(Who sang, of course, and twined their braids),
Leviathans, behemoths, whales,
And bugling tritons dressed in scales;
While, far aloft, flew deadlier forms,
Foreboding wrack of wheeling storms;
For now a wizard, now a wraith,
(If Downing's tale deserves our faith)
Shot swiftly o'er the frighted seas
With angry hum like bumblebees,
The messengers of George's rage
To Arnold, Clinton, Howe and Gage.
Appeared the wonders of the deep;
Sea-serpents two miles long, or more,
(For Downing often called it four),
Reefs overrun with ocean maids
(Who sang, of course, and twined their braids),
Leviathans, behemoths, whales,
And bugling tritons dressed in scales;
While, far aloft, flew deadlier forms,
Foreboding wrack of wheeling storms;
For now a wizard, now a wraith,
(If Downing's tale deserves our faith)
164
With angry hum like bumblebees,
The messengers of George's rage
To Arnold, Clinton, Howe and Gage.
Alas that Downing failed to smite
These caitiffs in their eldritch flight,
For, peering through their skinny claws,
They spied the Thor of freedom's cause
And guessed aright his daring plan
To martellate the Hessian clan.
So, spurring goat and cat and broom,
They bustled on through sheen and gloom
To Arnold, famed and mighty traitor,
Their evil commonwealth's dictator,
And brought him word of Downing's antic
Attempt to cross the fierce Atlantic.
These caitiffs in their eldritch flight,
For, peering through their skinny claws,
They spied the Thor of freedom's cause
And guessed aright his daring plan
To martellate the Hessian clan.
So, spurring goat and cat and broom,
They bustled on through sheen and gloom
To Arnold, famed and mighty traitor,
Their evil commonwealth's dictator,
And brought him word of Downing's antic
Attempt to cross the fierce Atlantic.
VIII
As awful lords of Gaza jeered
And winked the eye and wagged the beard,
When Sampson stood within their fane,
His tresses shorn, his valor vain,
So Arnold scoffed in wicked sport
To hear the warlock crew's report,
Because he thought New England's knight
Had surely fought his final fight.
And winked the eye and wagged the beard,
When Sampson stood within their fane,
His tresses shorn, his valor vain,
So Arnold scoffed in wicked sport
To hear the warlock crew's report,
Because he thought New England's knight
Had surely fought his final fight.
But Arnold was a soul of power
Who might not waste a golden hour
In counting chickens yet unhatched,
Or scalping foemen not despatched.
At once he launched his wizard swarm
To seek the dervish fiends of storm,
And bid them maul that daring yawl
With crashing wave and hissing squall.
Who might not waste a golden hour
In counting chickens yet unhatched,
Or scalping foemen not despatched.
165
To seek the dervish fiends of storm,
And bid them maul that daring yawl
With crashing wave and hissing squall.
Eftsoon the ocean imps collected
And wrought as Arnold's trolls directed,
On windy circles fiercely wheeling,
Forever tow'rd the centre stealing,
Arousing, lifting, driving ocean
In clashing bursts of mad commotion,
A screaming whirl of monstrous revels,
The cyclone-dance, the dance of devils.
And wrought as Arnold's trolls directed,
On windy circles fiercely wheeling,
Forever tow'rd the centre stealing,
Arousing, lifting, driving ocean
In clashing bursts of mad commotion,
A screaming whirl of monstrous revels,
The cyclone-dance, the dance of devils.
IX
It was as though a second birth
Of demonkind had come on earth,
Such mongrel, goblin clamors rose,
Such roar of ragings, wail of woes:
Insane blasphemings, madder prayers;
Infernal paeans, fierce despairs;
Derisive laughters, bacchant yells;
Exultings of triumphant hells;
Defiances of crests to crests;
Appeals for mercy, hoarse behests;
Laments of monstrous agonies;
Huzzas of vast debaucheries;
Refrains that ever seemed to weep;
Responsive snarls of Titan sleep;
Mad dialogues of surge with surge,
Half heard athwart a booming dirge;
Extatic bellows from abysses,
Commixed with groaning; snaky hisses;
Discordant babblings; senseless bleats
Of griffins; hoots of crazed afreets;
Mysterious sentences, half spoken;
Weird oracles in accents broken;
A Cosmos shouting without thought;
Replies of Chaos, meaning naught;
The brutish language of the great
Sea-furies inarticulate;
The strivings of the Deep to reach
Some anthropoid, or devilish speech.
Of demonkind had come on earth,
Such mongrel, goblin clamors rose,
Such roar of ragings, wail of woes:
Insane blasphemings, madder prayers;
Infernal paeans, fierce despairs;
Derisive laughters, bacchant yells;
Exultings of triumphant hells;
Defiances of crests to crests;
Appeals for mercy, hoarse behests;
Laments of monstrous agonies;
Huzzas of vast debaucheries;
Refrains that ever seemed to weep;
Responsive snarls of Titan sleep;
Mad dialogues of surge with surge,
Half heard athwart a booming dirge;
166
Commixed with groaning; snaky hisses;
Discordant babblings; senseless bleats
Of griffins; hoots of crazed afreets;
Mysterious sentences, half spoken;
Weird oracles in accents broken;
A Cosmos shouting without thought;
Replies of Chaos, meaning naught;
The brutish language of the great
Sea-furies inarticulate;
The strivings of the Deep to reach
Some anthropoid, or devilish speech.
X
But, wild as that alarum was,
The sight surpassed; without a pause
The tempest-imps tore ocean's face
To flying tatters frail as lace;
Like hounds they leaped upon their prey
And scattered it in clots of spray.
The billows reeled before their wrath;
The surges cringed; the cyclone's path
Was over dinted helms of waves
That stooped away like beaten slaves;
It hurled them tumbling, groveling, prone;
It trampled them; it reigned alone.
The sight surpassed; without a pause
The tempest-imps tore ocean's face
To flying tatters frail as lace;
Like hounds they leaped upon their prey
And scattered it in clots of spray.
The billows reeled before their wrath;
The surges cringed; the cyclone's path
Was over dinted helms of waves
That stooped away like beaten slaves;
It hurled them tumbling, groveling, prone;
It trampled them; it reigned alone.
The ocean's visage altered; spells,
Mutations, marvels, miracles
Succeeded swift; at every glance
It changed its awful countenance.
No breaker wallowed there but bore
Marmorean streaks and dapplings hoar,
With whirlpools twirling up and down
From yeasty base to feathery crown;
While fierce explosions, far below,
Uplifted floods of indigo,
One moment glassy, dark and cool
As any forest-bowered pool;
Then swiftly folded, wrinkled, curled,
And gone forever from the world.
Mutations, marvels, miracles
Succeeded swift; at every glance
It changed its awful countenance.
No breaker wallowed there but bore
167
With whirlpools twirling up and down
From yeasty base to feathery crown;
While fierce explosions, far below,
Uplifted floods of indigo,
One moment glassy, dark and cool
As any forest-bowered pool;
Then swiftly folded, wrinkled, curled,
And gone forever from the world.
But mainly all was sheeted white.
The azure quailed; a dazzling flight
And flood of lather oversloughed
The billows with a ghastly shroud;
And underneath the pallor rolled
Insensate monsters manifold;
Though, scarcely dead, they rose apace
And trampled out their breathless race.
Anear, or yonder, drove serene,
Resplendant slopes of crystal green,
That seemed as hard as mountain-pent,
But ere another glance were rent
To utter froth, and then again
Arose and speeded o'er the main.
The azure quailed; a dazzling flight
And flood of lather oversloughed
The billows with a ghastly shroud;
And underneath the pallor rolled
Insensate monsters manifold;
Though, scarcely dead, they rose apace
And trampled out their breathless race.
Anear, or yonder, drove serene,
Resplendant slopes of crystal green,
That seemed as hard as mountain-pent,
But ere another glance were rent
To utter froth, and then again
Arose and speeded o'er the main.
Tiara'd breakers glinted by,
Like charging Titans; then a cry,
A snarling, hissing, strangled breath
Of agony, announced their death.
But ere they vanished, others stood
Above them; that Antaean brood
Renewed from every fall the strife;
A ceaseless death fed ceaseless life.
Like charging Titans; then a cry,
A snarling, hissing, strangled breath
Of agony, announced their death.
But ere they vanished, others stood
Above them; that Antaean brood
Renewed from every fall the strife;
A ceaseless death fed ceaseless life.
168
XI
Man seemed an atom here. His power
To nothing turned in ocean's hour
Of wrath and rule. That slender bark,
Of late so like a skimming lark,
Was soon a mastless, drifting wreck
And barely showed its writhing deck
Above the flaked and sheeted spume,
That flashed like Death's eternal plume.
To nothing turned in ocean's hour
Of wrath and rule. That slender bark,
Of late so like a skimming lark,
Was soon a mastless, drifting wreck
And barely showed its writhing deck
Above the flaked and sheeted spume,
That flashed like Death's eternal plume.
It struggled not; its strength was done;
It had the fainting lurch of one
Who reels through lines of smiting foes
Half conscious of their jeers and blows.
The billows, watchful, swift of spring,
Pursued with hate this helpless thing,
Attending it as painted braves
Hunt bleeding prisoners to graves.
It had the fainting lurch of one
Who reels through lines of smiting foes
Half conscious of their jeers and blows.
The billows, watchful, swift of spring,
Pursued with hate this helpless thing,
Attending it as painted braves
Hunt bleeding prisoners to graves.
Titanic sea-gods jostled it;
Demonic, scoffing muzzles spit
Against it ere they hurtled past;
Unshapely, wallowing monsters massed
Their quivering bulks to overturn;
Above the prow, above the stern,
Chimaeras, dropping clots of foam
Gnashed threat'nings; watery imp and gnome
Waved hatred while they struggled by
From hither to the further sky;
In all the reeling, howling flight
No pity sounded; naught but spite.
Demonic, scoffing muzzles spit
Against it ere they hurtled past;
Unshapely, wallowing monsters massed
Their quivering bulks to overturn;
Above the prow, above the stern,
Chimaeras, dropping clots of foam
Gnashed threat'nings; watery imp and gnome
Waved hatred while they struggled by
From hither to the further sky;
In all the reeling, howling flight
No pity sounded; naught but spite.
169
XII
So morning went, and afternoon,
And night withouten star or moon;
So likewise all the morrow passed,
'Mid hissing spray and screaming blast.
And night withouten star or moon;
So likewise all the morrow passed,
'Mid hissing spray and screaming blast.
But when a second sunset fired
Its western altar, greatly tired
The wind-enchanters seemed to be,
And smoothness slid along the sea,
The rushing, rocking, toppling peaks,
The watery snarls, the windy shrieks,
The cyclop anarchy of ocean
Subsided, failed in voice and motion,
Till mellow twilight's dwindling bounds
Revealed but rounded azure mounds,
Atlantic prairies rolling wide
Their gleamy downs through eventide.
Its western altar, greatly tired
The wind-enchanters seemed to be,
And smoothness slid along the sea,
The rushing, rocking, toppling peaks,
The watery snarls, the windy shrieks,
The cyclop anarchy of ocean
Subsided, failed in voice and motion,
Till mellow twilight's dwindling bounds
Revealed but rounded azure mounds,
Atlantic prairies rolling wide
Their gleamy downs through eventide.
And now our castaways might sleep,
As men have slumbered on the deep
Who knew not whether morning's light
Awaited them, or endless night.
They slept, but not without a word
Of prayer from Esther; was it heard?
Perchance, for when she oped her eyes
She lived and saw the blessed skies.
The night had vanished; morning shone;
Her father lived; she heard his tone,
And marveled why he talked alone.
As men have slumbered on the deep
Who knew not whether morning's light
Awaited them, or endless night.
They slept, but not without a word
Of prayer from Esther; was it heard?
Perchance, for when she oped her eyes
She lived and saw the blessed skies.
The night had vanished; morning shone;
Her father lived; she heard his tone,
And marveled why he talked alone.
Again she would have drowsed away,
But presently she heard him say,
Disjointed words of marveling,
As one who spies a wondrous thing.
In Yankee dialect he spake,
And thus she heard him, half awake.
But presently she heard him say,
170
As one who spies a wondrous thing.
In Yankee dialect he spake,
And thus she heard him, half awake.
“Am I alive, or dead as Cyrus?
Is that a ship of ancient Tyrus?
Or have the Hindoos took a notion
To scoot in temples round the ocean?”
Is that a ship of ancient Tyrus?
Or have the Hindoos took a notion
To scoot in temples round the ocean?”
XIII
She leaped a-foot; she reached his side;
She glanced along the kindling tide;
And there, beneath the gracious dawn
That draped the east with rosy lawn,
She saw a weirder spectacle
Than ever wizard wrought by spell.
Did necromancy rule the deep?
Had cycles vanished with her sleep?
Had future centuries arisen,
Or aeons dead escaped their prison?
Was time a chaos? Were the ages
Commixed like haply gathered pages?
She glanced along the kindling tide;
And there, beneath the gracious dawn
That draped the east with rosy lawn,
She saw a weirder spectacle
Than ever wizard wrought by spell.
Did necromancy rule the deep?
Had cycles vanished with her sleep?
Had future centuries arisen,
Or aeons dead escaped their prison?
Was time a chaos? Were the ages
Commixed like haply gathered pages?
A furlong off, beneath the lea,
Slow-heaving o'er the heaving sea,
Advanced beneath the orient blaze
A galleon of ancient days;
A vessel such as Holland hands
Outfitted when Columbian lands
Were leafy wilds where beasts and men
Held daily strife for food and den;
A craft like those ye now behold
In tapestries bedimmed with mould,
Or tomes that tell of customs dead,
Or vagrom dreams of painter's head.
Yet, while so fabulous in guise,
She lumbered there to mortal eyes
As real a ship as ever tacked,
A solid bulk, an oaken fact.
Slow-heaving o'er the heaving sea,
Advanced beneath the orient blaze
A galleon of ancient days;
A vessel such as Holland hands
Outfitted when Columbian lands
Were leafy wilds where beasts and men
Held daily strife for food and den;
171
In tapestries bedimmed with mould,
Or tomes that tell of customs dead,
Or vagrom dreams of painter's head.
Yet, while so fabulous in guise,
She lumbered there to mortal eyes
As real a ship as ever tacked,
A solid bulk, an oaken fact.
XIV
Yea more; she seemed a ship of might;
Her tops were turrets, pierced for fight;
Her stem and stern like castles towered;
Along her bulwark cannon lowered;
While cutlass, pike and arquebuse
Were ranged amidst for boarding use.
Her tops were turrets, pierced for fight;
Her stem and stern like castles towered;
Along her bulwark cannon lowered;
While cutlass, pike and arquebuse
Were ranged amidst for boarding use.
Her folk were many; all along
The forward railing leaned a throng
Of mariners; and others bowed
From dizzy top and yard and shroud;
All gazing gravely on the wreck
With settled face and craning neck,
The stoniest crew of men that e'er
Did stare athwart an earthly mere.
And every speechless gazer bore
Such garb as Holland used of yore;
Broad-leaféd hats with pointed peaks,
High-colored doublets, ample breeks,
With shoulder-piece, or morion,
Or breastplate glinting back the sun;
All quaint as maskers at a ball,
Or mummers ruffed for carnival,
Or waxen mannikins that show
The raimentings of long ago.
The forward railing leaned a throng
Of mariners; and others bowed
From dizzy top and yard and shroud;
All gazing gravely on the wreck
With settled face and craning neck,
The stoniest crew of men that e'er
Did stare athwart an earthly mere.
And every speechless gazer bore
Such garb as Holland used of yore;
Broad-leaféd hats with pointed peaks,
High-colored doublets, ample breeks,
With shoulder-piece, or morion,
Or breastplate glinting back the sun;
172
Or mummers ruffed for carnival,
Or waxen mannikins that show
The raimentings of long ago.
Yet these were but a common brood.
Upon the quarter-castle stood
A group of three, in velvet clad,
Who nodded ostrich plumes, and had
A noble port of haught command,
Like lordly men of knightly land.
Of these the tallest lifted head,
And skyward gazed as though he said
A word of thankfulness or prayer;
Then, turning tow'rd our Yankee pair,
Extended hand, and mutely gave
Assurance that he came to save.
Upon the quarter-castle stood
A group of three, in velvet clad,
Who nodded ostrich plumes, and had
A noble port of haught command,
Like lordly men of knightly land.
Of these the tallest lifted head,
And skyward gazed as though he said
A word of thankfulness or prayer;
Then, turning tow'rd our Yankee pair,
Extended hand, and mutely gave
Assurance that he came to save.
XV
Thereon did puzzled Downing stammer
His wonderment in Shiloh grammar.
His wonderment in Shiloh grammar.
“May I be tomahawked,” he blurted,
“If Satan's kingdom aint converted!
I've offen heerd of hell a-floatin',
An' didn't bleeve in no sich boatin';
But here it comes as plain as blazes,
A-sayin' prayers an' singin' praises.
For either Downing's lost his reason,
An' needs confinement for a season,
Or we behold that fiendish notion,
The Flyin' Dutchman—plague of ocean—
Who allays keeps a-sailin'-sailin',
To pick the puss of trade an' whalin.
“If Satan's kingdom aint converted!
I've offen heerd of hell a-floatin',
An' didn't bleeve in no sich boatin';
But here it comes as plain as blazes,
A-sayin' prayers an' singin' praises.
For either Downing's lost his reason,
An' needs confinement for a season,
Or we behold that fiendish notion,
The Flyin' Dutchman—plague of ocean—
173
To pick the puss of trade an' whalin.
“But now, it seems, his will an' inwards
Incline no longer, hell-an-sinwards,
If one can jedge a feller's goin'
By pleasant ways an' pious showin'.
So let us hope the spangled creetur
Will pitch his hymn to shortish metre
An' launch his wherry hurry-scurry
To snake us out of wet an' worry.
If not, I doubt his whole profession
An' count him nawthin' but a Hessian,
For gospel talk withouten kindness
Is ruther wuss than pagan blindness
An' fetches neither scrapes nor thankys
From native-born, enlightened Yankees.”
Incline no longer, hell-an-sinwards,
If one can jedge a feller's goin'
By pleasant ways an' pious showin'.
So let us hope the spangled creetur
Will pitch his hymn to shortish metre
An' launch his wherry hurry-scurry
To snake us out of wet an' worry.
If not, I doubt his whole profession
An' count him nawthin' but a Hessian,
For gospel talk withouten kindness
Is ruther wuss than pagan blindness
An' fetches neither scrapes nor thankys
From native-born, enlightened Yankees.”
XVI
Erelong a jollyboat was lowered
Beneath the stranger's quarterboard,
A portly craft of heavy jowl,
Exceeding like the famous bowl
Wherein the trustful Gotham sages
Went grandly down to future ages.
Beneath the stranger's quarterboard,
A portly craft of heavy jowl,
Exceeding like the famous bowl
Wherein the trustful Gotham sages
Went grandly down to future ages.
Next Downing spied four sailors glide
Aslant the galleon's bellied side,
And after them the lordly chief
Who lately signalled him relief;
Then saw them feather oars and urge
Their rolling shallop o'er the surge
Until it smote his sunken rail,
No ghostly bark of vapors pale,
But stiff with oak and clinker mail.
Aslant the galleon's bellied side,
And after them the lordly chief
Who lately signalled him relief;
Then saw them feather oars and urge
Their rolling shallop o'er the surge
174
No ghostly bark of vapors pale,
But stiff with oak and clinker mail.
No phantoms, either, were the rowers,
But stalwart as their ashen oars;
And he who bore the ostrich plume
Had surely never known the tomb;
For, leaping to the wreck, he strode
With sounding steps in mortal mode.
But stalwart as their ashen oars;
And he who bore the ostrich plume
Had surely never known the tomb;
For, leaping to the wreck, he strode
With sounding steps in mortal mode.
A man he was, in blood and bone;
A very man, right nobly grown;
His visage flushed with younker health;
His glances azure; while a wealth
Of curling sunshine overhung
His ivory brow and signed him young.
A very man, right nobly grown;
His visage flushed with younker health;
His glances azure; while a wealth
Of curling sunshine overhung
His ivory brow and signed him young.
XVII
A man he truly seemed; and yet
Some awful variance was set
Betwixt this man and other men,
The gladsome folk we daily ken.
You might have fancied him a soul
From distant stellar realms of dole
Who never happed before on earth,
Nor heard of Bethlem's wondrous birth;
For utter sorrow brimmed his eyes
And choked his breath with many sighs,
As though he knew the wrath to come,
But knew not how to fly therefrom.
Some awful variance was set
Betwixt this man and other men,
The gladsome folk we daily ken.
You might have fancied him a soul
From distant stellar realms of dole
Who never happed before on earth,
Nor heard of Bethlem's wondrous birth;
For utter sorrow brimmed his eyes
And choked his breath with many sighs,
As though he knew the wrath to come,
But knew not how to fly therefrom.
175
Moreover, man is rarely seen
So strangely meek in act and mien;
For, baring solemnly his head,
He knelt and humbly pressed his red
And comely mouth against the deck;
And many times he kissed the wreck
With choking sobs and whisperings
Of incommunicable things;
As one who, chancing on the spot,
Where erst he aimed a mortal shot,
May kneel above the hidden corse
In sudden pang of hot remorse,
And swear repentance there of crime
And holier life for coming time.
So strangely meek in act and mien;
For, baring solemnly his head,
He knelt and humbly pressed his red
And comely mouth against the deck;
And many times he kissed the wreck
With choking sobs and whisperings
Of incommunicable things;
As one who, chancing on the spot,
Where erst he aimed a mortal shot,
May kneel above the hidden corse
In sudden pang of hot remorse,
And swear repentance there of crime
And holier life for coming time.
At last he rose with calmer face,
As though a messenger of grace
Had swiftly flown from mercy's throne
With pardoning answer to his moan.
Then, turning tow'rd our castaways,
Who stared the while in dumb amaze,
He bent his lips to Esther's wrist,
Then likewise kist her father's fist,
The meekest wight that ever laid
A kiss on hand of man or maid.
As though a messenger of grace
Had swiftly flown from mercy's throne
With pardoning answer to his moan.
Then, turning tow'rd our castaways,
Who stared the while in dumb amaze,
He bent his lips to Esther's wrist,
Then likewise kist her father's fist,
The meekest wight that ever laid
A kiss on hand of man or maid.
XVIII
Such courtesy did much surprise
A Downing reared in rustic guise.
He never saw the like before,
Nor heard thereof in days of yore.
A Downing reared in rustic guise.
He never saw the like before,
Nor heard thereof in days of yore.
176
So, partly awed, yet more perplexed
And ill at ease, and therefore vexed,
He glumly said, “My christian brother,
Your meaning's dark, an' seems to me
We'd sooner understand each other
If we should let the bussing be.
Dessay there's fun in scrapes an' kisses
To them that's broughten up to pass
Their extry hours, like city misses,
A-smirkin 'fore a lookin-glass.
But Goodness didn't light our tapers
In deestricks given to monkey-capers,
An' we admire these fancy manners
As much as Satan does hosanners.
And ill at ease, and therefore vexed,
He glumly said, “My christian brother,
Your meaning's dark, an' seems to me
We'd sooner understand each other
If we should let the bussing be.
Dessay there's fun in scrapes an' kisses
To them that's broughten up to pass
Their extry hours, like city misses,
A-smirkin 'fore a lookin-glass.
But Goodness didn't light our tapers
In deestricks given to monkey-capers,
An' we admire these fancy manners
As much as Satan does hosanners.
“So, waivin' furder bows an' curchies,
Explain with no uncertain sound
Whether your ark a fort or church is
An' what you mean by droppin' round.
But while you're thinkin' up your answer
I'll briefly state that I'm a man, sir,
Disposed to be almighty tender
About the p'int of no-surrender.”
Explain with no uncertain sound
Whether your ark a fort or church is
An' what you mean by droppin' round.
But while you're thinkin' up your answer
I'll briefly state that I'm a man, sir,
Disposed to be almighty tender
About the p'int of no-surrender.”
XIX
The stranger started, not in spite,
But marvel mixed with sharp delight,
Like one who wins a pard'ning word
Instead of mortal thrust incurred.
But marvel mixed with sharp delight,
Like one who wins a pard'ning word
Instead of mortal thrust incurred.
Then, taking Downing's hand, he said,
“I trow that thou art English bred.
Thank God that I may hear agen
The blessid speech of living men!
Thank God that men without a curse
May welcome me, so long perverse,
The slave of sin for many a year,
The haunting fiend of many a mere!”
“I trow that thou art English bred.
177
The blessid speech of living men!
Thank God that men without a curse
May welcome me, so long perverse,
The slave of sin for many a year,
The haunting fiend of many a mere!”
This utterance of gladness rung
In syllables of English tongue,
But English other than we know,
A mother-speech of yore-ago.
The tones were sweet. But strangely old
They seemed, as though the funeral mould
Of centuries had gathered round
The words. They had a ghostly sound
That brought to mind the eldritch lay
And requiem of ivies gray,
Lamenting o'er a riven keep
Whose knights are dust, whose bugles sleep.
In syllables of English tongue,
But English other than we know,
A mother-speech of yore-ago.
The tones were sweet. But strangely old
They seemed, as though the funeral mould
Of centuries had gathered round
The words. They had a ghostly sound
That brought to mind the eldritch lay
And requiem of ivies gray,
Lamenting o'er a riven keep
Whose knights are dust, whose bugles sleep.
At first the sense was dimly marked;
But presently, as Downing harked
And fiercely strove to comprehend,
He saw a beam of meaning wend
Its way along the words; and soon
The purport sparkled clear as noon;
Although the wight who understood
Deemed it patter of alien brood;
Nor guessed that thus his fathers spake,
Nor quite believed himself awake.
But presently, as Downing harked
And fiercely strove to comprehend,
He saw a beam of meaning wend
Its way along the words; and soon
The purport sparkled clear as noon;
Although the wight who understood
Deemed it patter of alien brood;
Nor guessed that thus his fathers spake,
Nor quite believed himself awake.
As one can hear discourse in sleep
That moveth him to curse and weep,
Yet cannot answer, though he sighs
And grimaces to mouth replies,
So Downing heard his fearful guest
With palsied tongue and heaving breast;
And when the Flying Dutchman bade
Our Yankees follow, they obeyed
And eftersoon set foot upon
That ever-cruising galleon,
The weirdest visit, I opine,
That ever was on turf or brine.
That moveth him to curse and weep,
Yet cannot answer, though he sighs
178
So Downing heard his fearful guest
With palsied tongue and heaving breast;
And when the Flying Dutchman bade
Our Yankees follow, they obeyed
And eftersoon set foot upon
That ever-cruising galleon,
The weirdest visit, I opine,
That ever was on turf or brine.
XX
Our chief, in column after column
Of what he calls his Seckont Vollum,
Relates such brags anent this galley
That skeptic spirits dare to rally
The wonder-tale as merely fable,
A crumb purloined from Arthur's Table.
But Downing's self and Downing's labors
Are testified by trusty neighbors,
By men who sate in deacon's places,
Distinguished for their gifts and graces,
Their scholarship in orthodoxies
And zeal with contribution boxes;
And we, who take their witness kindly,
Believe his blague and quote it blindly.
Of what he calls his Seckont Vollum,
Relates such brags anent this galley
That skeptic spirits dare to rally
The wonder-tale as merely fable,
A crumb purloined from Arthur's Table.
But Downing's self and Downing's labors
Are testified by trusty neighbors,
By men who sate in deacon's places,
Distinguished for their gifts and graces,
Their scholarship in orthodoxies
And zeal with contribution boxes;
And we, who take their witness kindly,
Believe his blague and quote it blindly.
“She was,” he writes, “the queerest notion
That ever wabbled round the ocean;
The awkardest sea-goin' creetur
Sence Pharaoh an' Simon Peter.
The stern an' fokesle histed uppards
Consid'able like mons'ous cuppards,
In consequence of which her figger
Was like a crescent moon, though bigger.
She kerried every kind of wep'm
That Granther Noah took as kep'm,
From Tubal Cain's harpoons an' hammers
To muskets made by Amsterdammers,
With cannons built of wroughten metal
No thicker than a potash kettle,
A sight more suitable for bustin'
Than givin enemies a dustin'.”
That ever wabbled round the ocean;
The awkardest sea-goin' creetur
Sence Pharaoh an' Simon Peter.
The stern an' fokesle histed uppards
179
In consequence of which her figger
Was like a crescent moon, though bigger.
She kerried every kind of wep'm
That Granther Noah took as kep'm,
From Tubal Cain's harpoons an' hammers
To muskets made by Amsterdammers,
With cannons built of wroughten metal
No thicker than a potash kettle,
A sight more suitable for bustin'
Than givin enemies a dustin'.”
XXI
“But sartinly the strangest show
Aboard was officers an' sailors,
A gang of younkers all aglow,
But dressed by dead an' buried tailors.
They had a far-off, hopeful gaze,
Reminding me of Eden's glory,
Or, ruther more, of pious ways
That lead to Heaven's upper story;
Besides, they had a gentle sadness,
A-glimpsin' through a trustin' gladness,
A gleam of meek an' patient graces
We offen see on corpses' faces;
By which, though not a holy liver,
I found it easy to diskiver
The creeturs were in great affliction
An' labored under deep conviction,
Yet entertained a hope to die on
The steep an' narrow road to Zion.
Aboard was officers an' sailors,
A gang of younkers all aglow,
But dressed by dead an' buried tailors.
They had a far-off, hopeful gaze,
Reminding me of Eden's glory,
Or, ruther more, of pious ways
That lead to Heaven's upper story;
Besides, they had a gentle sadness,
A-glimpsin' through a trustin' gladness,
A gleam of meek an' patient graces
We offen see on corpses' faces;
By which, though not a holy liver,
I found it easy to diskiver
The creeturs were in great affliction
An' labored under deep conviction,
Yet entertained a hope to die on
The steep an' narrow road to Zion.
180
“Well, trompin' on the skipper's shadder,
We ambled down the cabin ladder
An' found a gorgis-lookin' chimber,
All carpentered in whittled timber,
A dozen paces square by measure
An' bilin' over full of treasure;
For instance, cuppards, chists an' tables
Of ivory an' fragrant lumbers,
As fine as dreams in schoolboy slumbers,
Or what we hear about in fables;
With trinkets thick as Jews in Numbers,—
Tyaries, bracelets, silver flagons,
Gold-mounted gods an' jeweled dragons.
We ambled down the cabin ladder
An' found a gorgis-lookin' chimber,
All carpentered in whittled timber,
A dozen paces square by measure
An' bilin' over full of treasure;
For instance, cuppards, chists an' tables
Of ivory an' fragrant lumbers,
As fine as dreams in schoolboy slumbers,
Or what we hear about in fables;
With trinkets thick as Jews in Numbers,—
Tyaries, bracelets, silver flagons,
Gold-mounted gods an' jeweled dragons.
XXII
“An' right among the raree-shows,
Two youngling men an' one young woman,
(Arrayed in go-to-meetin' close),
So hansome they were skussly human;
The Flyin' Dutchman's near relations,
Who shooken hands an' offered cheers
With such a buzz of salutations
As ruther stumped our Yankee ears.
Two youngling men an' one young woman,
(Arrayed in go-to-meetin' close),
So hansome they were skussly human;
The Flyin' Dutchman's near relations,
Who shooken hands an' offered cheers
With such a buzz of salutations
As ruther stumped our Yankee ears.
The christenins were Dutch to me,
An' drefful tough to spell, I reckon.
The skipper interduced; says he,
‘My name is Hendrick Vanderdecken;
My cousins are these other two;
The first is Dircksen Vanderdryfe;
The other, Arendt Vanderloo,
And this, Cornelie, is his wifey.’—
Or so I understood the titles,
Although, perhaps, I've missed the spellin';
For Dutch is spoken from the vitals
An' hard to write beyond all tellin.’”
An' drefful tough to spell, I reckon.
The skipper interduced; says he,
‘My name is Hendrick Vanderdecken;
My cousins are these other two;
The first is Dircksen Vanderdryfe;
The other, Arendt Vanderloo,
181
Or so I understood the titles,
Although, perhaps, I've missed the spellin';
For Dutch is spoken from the vitals
An' hard to write beyond all tellin.’”
XXIII
Thus Downing found himself the guest
Of ocean's wanderer and pest,
The fated guide of murderous waves,
The haunting ghoul of coraled graves.
Of ocean's wanderer and pest,
The fated guide of murderous waves,
The haunting ghoul of coraled graves.
High dialogue the strangers held,
As suited men of hoary eld.
Of that ennobled age they spoke
When all Iberia's empire broke
In floods of steel on Holland's shore,
And backward rolled, a flood of gore;
When Orange cheered the slender band
That stood for freedom, faith and land,
And cumbered breach and field and sea
With dead who left their country free;
When martyred cities, clothed in fire,
Saw victory's crown above the pyre;
And vain was Parma's wondrous art,
And vainly burst Don Juan's heart.
As suited men of hoary eld.
Of that ennobled age they spoke
When all Iberia's empire broke
In floods of steel on Holland's shore,
And backward rolled, a flood of gore;
When Orange cheered the slender band
That stood for freedom, faith and land,
And cumbered breach and field and sea
With dead who left their country free;
When martyred cities, clothed in fire,
Saw victory's crown above the pyre;
And vain was Parma's wondrous art,
And vainly burst Don Juan's heart.
For long our hero speechless heard,
With mouth agape like youngling bird,
Debating how such lordly names
And gallant deeds and shining fames
Could be no less unknown to him
Than things beyond creation's brim.
At last he stammered, musing much,
“I reckon those were ancient Dutch;
An' though I'm but a middlin' schollard
In history, I think I know,
For sartin sure, the graveyard swaller'd
Their strength an' glory long ago;
For Holland's sign come down a story
When Britain took to keepin' tavern,
An' Spain has got as weak an' hoary
As giant Pope in Bunyan's cavern.
So, on the whole an' ‘barrin’ errors,
I ruther guess those famous coots
Charged bagnets on the king of terrors
An' died, like sojers, in their boots.”
With mouth agape like youngling bird,
Debating how such lordly names
And gallant deeds and shining fames
Could be no less unknown to him
182
At last he stammered, musing much,
“I reckon those were ancient Dutch;
An' though I'm but a middlin' schollard
In history, I think I know,
For sartin sure, the graveyard swaller'd
Their strength an' glory long ago;
For Holland's sign come down a story
When Britain took to keepin' tavern,
An' Spain has got as weak an' hoary
As giant Pope in Bunyan's cavern.
So, on the whole an' ‘barrin’ errors,
I ruther guess those famous coots
Charged bagnets on the king of terrors
An' died, like sojers, in their boots.”
In New England the place of taverner was formerly held by town authority, and was a position of trust and honor.
XXIV
Then golden-haired Cornelie cried,
“Alas! it may be all have died.
But all? Do all my kinsmen sleep?
The little ones who scarce could creep?
My brother with the flaxen head?
How may it be that all are dead?”
“Alas! it may be all have died.
But all? Do all my kinsmen sleep?
The little ones who scarce could creep?
My brother with the flaxen head?
How may it be that all are dead?”
Then Esther, witnessing her grief,
And knowing naught could bring relief,
Inclined her brow and sobbed aloud,
While valiant Downing also bowed
To hide the burning drops that ran
Adown his cheek of rugged tan.
For, stalwart though he was, and grim
To hardnesses that touched but him,
He might not spy distress anear
Nor see his daughter shed a tear,
But sympathy would smite him through,
And he would weep, as angels do.
And knowing naught could bring relief,
Inclined her brow and sobbed aloud,
While valiant Downing also bowed
To hide the burning drops that ran
183
For, stalwart though he was, and grim
To hardnesses that touched but him,
He might not spy distress anear
Nor see his daughter shed a tear,
But sympathy would smite him through,
And he would weep, as angels do.
Meanwhile the others held askance
With folded arms and lowered glance,
Unflinching shapes of calm despair,
Without a tear, without a prayer,
As kenning well that no lament
Nor plea would ease their punishment.
With folded arms and lowered glance,
Unflinching shapes of calm despair,
Without a tear, without a prayer,
As kenning well that no lament
Nor plea would ease their punishment.
But shortly Vanderdecken gave
This comment, “Welcome be the grave!”
This comment, “Welcome be the grave!”
Then Vanderloo besought: “My own,
My sweet Cornelie, cease thy moan!
Thy kin have bowed to God's decree;
Long since they crossed the Shining Sea.
Gone are the children, like their games;
Forgot, perchance, their very names.
Yet, dearest one, take heart of grace,
For they will meet us face to face,
Will meet and greet us when our feet
Find rest before the mercy-seat.”
My sweet Cornelie, cease thy moan!
Thy kin have bowed to God's decree;
Long since they crossed the Shining Sea.
Gone are the children, like their games;
Forgot, perchance, their very names.
Yet, dearest one, take heart of grace,
For they will meet us face to face,
Will meet and greet us when our feet
Find rest before the mercy-seat.”
XXV
“Yea,” Vanderdecken sighed. “We know
The truth, at last. And be it so!”
The truth, at last. And be it so!”
Then, turning to his guests, he said,
“Two hundred stormy years have sped
About this world of weary wail
Since we loosened the homeward sail;
Yet still we plough a shoreless foam,
And still we cannot find our home.
Ye marvel such a thing can be.
But hearken! listen! hear! and ye
Shall know how God can discipline,
How swift his anger follows sin.
“Two hundred stormy years have sped
184
Since we loosened the homeward sail;
Yet still we plough a shoreless foam,
And still we cannot find our home.
Ye marvel such a thing can be.
But hearken! listen! hear! and ye
Shall know how God can discipline,
How swift his anger follows sin.
I was distract with love of gold,
And like Iscariot I sold
My peace, my happiness, myself,
My fellow men, my God, for pelf.
I was distract for it because
It makes and shatters human laws;
Because it gives one lordly place
And lordly power among his race;
Because it makes one like a king.
Wherever shone the eldritch thing
I hasted there with deadly sword,
Or deadlier guile, to swell my hoard,
Nor cared though tears and blood bestained
The sheen of every sequin gained.
And like Iscariot I sold
My peace, my happiness, myself,
My fellow men, my God, for pelf.
I was distract for it because
It makes and shatters human laws;
Because it gives one lordly place
And lordly power among his race;
Because it makes one like a king.
Wherever shone the eldritch thing
I hasted there with deadly sword,
Or deadlier guile, to swell my hoard,
Nor cared though tears and blood bestained
The sheen of every sequin gained.
But oftentimes, from year to year,
Unearthly whispers reached my ear,
Fell tenderly through starlit calms,
Or noontides breathing spice and balms,
Slid weirdly over burnished seas,
Where nothing was, nor ship nor breeze,
So weirdly came, so weirdly fled,
I looked to see the misty dead.
And what the whisper sighed was this:
‘Thou sellest thine eternal bliss;
Erelong wilt thou be called again
To choose betwixt thy God and gain;
Then, turning still from ways of worth,
Thy doom shall wonderstrike the earth.’
Unearthly whispers reached my ear,
Fell tenderly through starlit calms,
Or noontides breathing spice and balms,
Slid weirdly over burnished seas,
Where nothing was, nor ship nor breeze,
So weirdly came, so weirdly fled,
I looked to see the misty dead.
And what the whisper sighed was this:
185
Erelong wilt thou be called again
To choose betwixt thy God and gain;
Then, turning still from ways of worth,
Thy doom shall wonderstrike the earth.’
XXVI
“Yet none the less—O heart of flint!
I gathered gold withouten stint,
Nor paused amid my vampyre chase,
Nor ceased to scorn the heavenly grace,
And like myself I made the men
Who share my fortune now as then.
I gathered gold withouten stint,
Nor paused amid my vampyre chase,
Nor ceased to scorn the heavenly grace,
And like myself I made the men
Who share my fortune now as then.
This galley freighted we with groans
And bloody tears of Indian zones,
Transformed by cruelty and lies
To jewels, gold and merchandise.
Then, hoping greater gain if we
Might quickly overspan the sea,
I swore that neither love, nor fear,
Nor law divine, nor human tear
Should make me slacken sail or veer
In all my voyage. Demon oath!
Fulfilled with more than demon troth,
And punished by the watchful power
Of Him who knows the sparrow's hour.
And bloody tears of Indian zones,
Transformed by cruelty and lies
To jewels, gold and merchandise.
Then, hoping greater gain if we
Might quickly overspan the sea,
I swore that neither love, nor fear,
Nor law divine, nor human tear
Should make me slacken sail or veer
In all my voyage. Demon oath!
Fulfilled with more than demon troth,
And punished by the watchful power
Of Him who knows the sparrow's hour.
Upon the hundreth prosperous day
We bellied swift along our way,
Dividing Holland seas at last
And vaunting over perils past;
Upon that gracious day, as morn
Shook over earth her golden horn,
Enriching all the east with skies
That fitter seemed for Paradise;
Upon that gracious morn we spied,
A furlong from our hissing side,
A wreck that wallowed deadly deep,
Whereon a castaway did weep
And wring his hands athwart the wave,
Beseeching us to pause and save.
We bellied swift along our way,
Dividing Holland seas at last
And vaunting over perils past;
186
Shook over earth her golden horn,
Enriching all the east with skies
That fitter seemed for Paradise;
Upon that gracious morn we spied,
A furlong from our hissing side,
A wreck that wallowed deadly deep,
Whereon a castaway did weep
And wring his hands athwart the wave,
Beseeching us to pause and save.
XXVII
“Cornelie, then, my cousin's wife,
Made intercession for that life
With such a piercing woman-wail
That all who harkened turned a-pale
And stared askant with sullen brow,
And muttered, ‘Will he break the vow?’
For every heart was hard with greed
To win the promised gain of speed.
Made intercession for that life
With such a piercing woman-wail
That all who harkened turned a-pale
And stared askant with sullen brow,
And muttered, ‘Will he break the vow?’
For every heart was hard with greed
To win the promised gain of speed.
Ah, maddened soul! I said her Nay,
And briskly foamed along my way,
While swifter still that vessel span
And flyted from the sight of man,
Although I know not how it fled,
If underneath or overhead;
For where it span a wondrous light
Of dazzling pinions dimmed the sight,
And when the glory skyward shone
The mere was clear and we alone.
And briskly foamed along my way,
While swifter still that vessel span
And flyted from the sight of man,
Although I know not how it fled,
If underneath or overhead;
For where it span a wondrous light
Of dazzling pinions dimmed the sight,
And when the glory skyward shone
The mere was clear and we alone.
187
The deed was done, my sin complete,
And vengeance came on speedy feet;
For scarcely, could I turn to gaze
Along the prow for landward haze
Before a flying 'larum passed
That cried above our tallest mast:
‘Behold, O waves, behold these men,
And hold them till I come agen!’
And vengeance came on speedy feet;
For scarcely, could I turn to gaze
Along the prow for landward haze
Before a flying 'larum passed
That cried above our tallest mast:
‘Behold, O waves, behold these men,
And hold them till I come agen!’
Then wept Cornelie, ‘We are lost,
For that was Jesus tempest-tost,—
And thou deniedst him, and we
Are dungeoned in a gateless sea.’
For that was Jesus tempest-tost,—
And thou deniedst him, and we
Are dungeoned in a gateless sea.’
Had any man such omen spoke,
I would have dealt him mortal stroke,
So arrogant was I in mind,
And sudden fierce to humankind.
Yet soothfully had she divined
Our crowning sin and coming woe.
Alas! as often haps below,
The innocent was doomed to share
Sin's punishment and sin's despair.
I would have dealt him mortal stroke,
So arrogant was I in mind,
And sudden fierce to humankind.
Yet soothfully had she divined
Our crowning sin and coming woe.
Alas! as often haps below,
The innocent was doomed to share
Sin's punishment and sin's despair.
XXVIII
“The malediction hath not failed,
For, since it larumed, we have sailed—
O Jesus! how we sail thy seas
To win a port that ever flees,
To win the land that gave us birth;
Yea, that or any alien earth!
For, since it larumed, we have sailed—
O Jesus! how we sail thy seas
To win a port that ever flees,
To win the land that gave us birth;
Yea, that or any alien earth!
188
How often hath our galley spanned
A world where many cities stand;
Where gladsome creatures throng the ways
And thankful belfries call to praise;
Where flowrets bloom and branches swing
And insects hum and birdlets sing;
Where even brutes tread fragrant turf
And lusty shores withstand the surf;
How often round such pleasant world,
How woful often have we whirled,
And found it but a howling nest
Of demon waves that never rest!
A world where many cities stand;
Where gladsome creatures throng the ways
And thankful belfries call to praise;
Where flowrets bloom and branches swing
And insects hum and birdlets sing;
Where even brutes tread fragrant turf
And lusty shores withstand the surf;
How often round such pleasant world,
How woful often have we whirled,
And found it but a howling nest
Of demon waves that never rest!
All earthly forms, all coastwise shapes,
The haughty cliffs, the prowling capes,
The very mountains huge and hoar
That sentried otherwhiles the shore,
And beckoned us from zone to zone,
Have vanished into graves unknown.
Yea, fiery isles that sunward rolled
Their solemn smokings, fold on fold,
Like giants burning sacrifice
And waving incense tow'rd the skies;
Or, seen through oceanic night,
Now panted breaths of filmy light,
Now held a lurid shaft aloft
Whose chapter reached the starry croft;
These, too, have flyted from their posts
As utterly as shriven ghosts.
The haughty cliffs, the prowling capes,
The very mountains huge and hoar
That sentried otherwhiles the shore,
And beckoned us from zone to zone,
Have vanished into graves unknown.
Yea, fiery isles that sunward rolled
Their solemn smokings, fold on fold,
Like giants burning sacrifice
And waving incense tow'rd the skies;
Or, seen through oceanic night,
Now panted breaths of filmy light,
Now held a lurid shaft aloft
Whose chapter reached the starry croft;
These, too, have flyted from their posts
As utterly as shriven ghosts.
The elfin picture-lands that slide
From beetling cliff or mountain side
Deep into gulfs of liquid steel;
And, smiling far below the keel,
Bewitch the sailor with their guiles
Until he sees hesperian isles
Of verdant grove and sunny knoll,
And hears their belfries call his soul;
E'en these enchantments of the deep,
These wizard dreams of ocean's sleep,
We sought with care through many seas,
And found them not—not even these!
From beetling cliff or mountain side
Deep into gulfs of liquid steel;
189
Bewitch the sailor with their guiles
Until he sees hesperian isles
Of verdant grove and sunny knoll,
And hears their belfries call his soul;
E'en these enchantments of the deep,
These wizard dreams of ocean's sleep,
We sought with care through many seas,
And found them not—not even these!
XXIX
“No frothing jowl of wolfish main
But we have fronted it in vain.
No shouting surge, no snarling bar,
Will fling the gates of death ajar.
No bloody haunt of pagan men,
No pirate's lair, no monster's den,
Will suffer us to draw anigh,
And hail its cruelty, and die.
No land we meet—no land—no land!
No, not the humblest beach of sand.
No matter how we span its girth,
We cannot find the winsome earth,
Nor aught but ocean's heaving graves,
An endless charnelhouse of waves.
Oh, what a hell the deep may be!
There is no horror like the sea.
But we have fronted it in vain.
No shouting surge, no snarling bar,
Will fling the gates of death ajar.
No bloody haunt of pagan men,
No pirate's lair, no monster's den,
Will suffer us to draw anigh,
And hail its cruelty, and die.
No land we meet—no land—no land!
No, not the humblest beach of sand.
No matter how we span its girth,
We cannot find the winsome earth,
Nor aught but ocean's heaving graves,
An endless charnelhouse of waves.
Oh, what a hell the deep may be!
There is no horror like the sea.
Time also vanished, like the shore;
Omniscient Time knew us no more.
We wrote in books the dreary days
Till record stopped in stark amaze.
How might we credit such a thing!
The months advanced on tireless wing;
The years, the lustres, filled their lot;
We reckoned them, believing not.
We numbered, numbered, numbered oft,
Nor yet believed, but rather scoffed;
Denying that our woful breath
Was overdue to cheated death;
Denying that the friends we sought,
The foes we dreaded, all were nought.
Omniscient Time knew us no more.
We wrote in books the dreary days
190
How might we credit such a thing!
The months advanced on tireless wing;
The years, the lustres, filled their lot;
We reckoned them, believing not.
We numbered, numbered, numbered oft,
Nor yet believed, but rather scoffed;
Denying that our woful breath
Was overdue to cheated death;
Denying that the friends we sought,
The foes we dreaded, all were nought.
XXX
“Another horror! We were doomed
To gaze upon the wrecks that boomed
And signalled vainly for relief.
Wherever tore the ambushed reef,
Wherever gorged the stealthy shark,
Wherever lurched a riven bark,
We hasted, spite of helm and sails,
And endless wrath of heady gales.
No idle prayers, no hopeless sighs,
No last despairs, no bubbling cries,
Of ocean folk beneath the skies,
But there we ride, we ever ben
Beholders curst of living men.
To gaze upon the wrecks that boomed
And signalled vainly for relief.
Wherever tore the ambushed reef,
Wherever gorged the stealthy shark,
Wherever lurched a riven bark,
We hasted, spite of helm and sails,
And endless wrath of heady gales.
No idle prayers, no hopeless sighs,
No last despairs, no bubbling cries,
Of ocean folk beneath the skies,
But there we ride, we ever ben
Beholders curst of living men.
No rest! no calm! Forever bruised
By fronting storms, our galley cruised
Through tropic blaze and polar cold,
Through mighty meres, unguessed of old,
From foaming waste to foaming waste
With headlong, blinding, madding haste,
Only to witness everywhere
Incessant woe and wild despair.
By fronting storms, our galley cruised
Through tropic blaze and polar cold,
Through mighty meres, unguessed of old,
191
With headlong, blinding, madding haste,
Only to witness everywhere
Incessant woe and wild despair.
XXXI
“Two hundred years we fared alone.
Two hundred years my heart was stone,
So wicked hard I would not deign
To utter moan, nor even feign
Desire to holpen shipwrecked soul.
Two hundred years my heart was stone,
So wicked hard I would not deign
To utter moan, nor even feign
Desire to holpen shipwrecked soul.
But yestereve, outworn with dole,
And yearning once again to walk
About my childhood's home, and talk
With men of hopeful, gladsome heart,
I called my kinsmen here apart,
Bemoaned my sin and prayed for grace
With weeping that from face to face
Ran burning hot and swelled apace
Till even rugged marineers,
Who heard us, melted into tears.
And yearning once again to walk
About my childhood's home, and talk
With men of hopeful, gladsome heart,
I called my kinsmen here apart,
Bemoaned my sin and prayed for grace
With weeping that from face to face
Ran burning hot and swelled apace
Till even rugged marineers,
Who heard us, melted into tears.
Then once again returned the low
Unearthly sigh of yore-ago,
No longer breathing threat and moan,
But loving sweet in word and tone.
It fell, I thought, from starry choirs,
And yet it frighted not the ear;
It had a sound of golden lyres,
And yet it whispered silver clear;
It seemed to bid me bend the knee,
And yet it gently breathed to me
This word, as sweet as word can be:
Unearthly sigh of yore-ago,
No longer breathing threat and moan,
But loving sweet in word and tone.
It fell, I thought, from starry choirs,
And yet it frighted not the ear;
It had a sound of golden lyres,
And yet it whispered silver clear;
It seemed to bid me bend the knee,
192
This word, as sweet as word can be:
‘To-morrow morning shalt thou find
A work befitting humbled mind;
Have mercy on thy fellow men,
And enter into peace agen.’”
A work befitting humbled mind;
Have mercy on thy fellow men,
And enter into peace agen.’”
XXXII
Such was the Ocean Vagrant's tale,
A story like some ghostly wail
From awful torture-chambers, built
By mighty wrath for wondrous guilt,
Where yet a little hope remains
And struggling pinions shake the chains.
And when he ended it, a groan
Fulfilled the ponderous galleon,
As though the very ship did feel
Remorse from topmast down to keel.
A story like some ghostly wail
From awful torture-chambers, built
By mighty wrath for wondrous guilt,
Where yet a little hope remains
And struggling pinions shake the chains.
And when he ended it, a groan
Fulfilled the ponderous galleon,
As though the very ship did feel
Remorse from topmast down to keel.
Meanwhile that company of four,
The seekers after Holland shore,
Nor paled to hear, nor looked around,
As though it were familiar sound;
But harkened dumb, with drooping eyes
And humid cheeks and gentle sighs,
And shaking lips that prayed within,
Beseeching grace for stubborn sin:
The saddest human souls, I trow,
The wildest, weirdest in their woe,
That ever ploughed the rounded sea,
Or ever bowed the contrite knee.
The seekers after Holland shore,
Nor paled to hear, nor looked around,
As though it were familiar sound;
But harkened dumb, with drooping eyes
And humid cheeks and gentle sighs,
And shaking lips that prayed within,
Beseeching grace for stubborn sin:
The saddest human souls, I trow,
The wildest, weirdest in their woe,
That ever ploughed the rounded sea,
Or ever bowed the contrite knee.
193
XXXIII
Our hero, witnessing their sorrow,
Was moved to uttermost compassion,
And, judging their repentance thorough,
At once began in sequent fashion
To hum and haw such comfortings
As suited best his own emotion,
Without much questioning if things
Would work according to his notion.
Was moved to uttermost compassion,
And, judging their repentance thorough,
At once began in sequent fashion
To hum and haw such comfortings
As suited best his own emotion,
Without much questioning if things
Would work according to his notion.
“No doubt,” he granted, “sin is awful,
An' your career has been unlawful.
You've kinder been ambition-bitten,
A leetle like old mother Britain,
An' wrought no eend of peccadilloes
In tearin' round to rule the billows.
I must allow you've raised a rumpus
About as big as chaps can compass.
You've mowed a mons'ous swath of trouble,
An' trampled feller men like stubble,
An' made your guilt appear the greater
By stickin' at it like all nater.
An' your career has been unlawful.
You've kinder been ambition-bitten,
A leetle like old mother Britain,
An' wrought no eend of peccadilloes
In tearin' round to rule the billows.
I must allow you've raised a rumpus
About as big as chaps can compass.
You've mowed a mons'ous swath of trouble,
An' trampled feller men like stubble,
An' made your guilt appear the greater
By stickin' at it like all nater.
But change of heart an' change of goin'
Are also wuth a moment's showin'.
You've turned your back on lyin' Baalam
An' aimed your figger-head for Salem;
You've saved at least two feller mortals
From slippin' through the ghostly portals;
An' sence I've been a Yankee stormer
I never met a Dutch Reformer
Who seemed in penitence more hearty
Than you, includin' all your party,
From whence I draw a smart assurance
You've reely broke from Satan's durance
To seek a berth among the chosen,
With all aboard, from cook to boasun.
Are also wuth a moment's showin'.
You've turned your back on lyin' Baalam
An' aimed your figger-head for Salem;
You've saved at least two feller mortals
From slippin' through the ghostly portals;
An' sence I've been a Yankee stormer
I never met a Dutch Reformer
Who seemed in penitence more hearty
194
From whence I draw a smart assurance
You've reely broke from Satan's durance
To seek a berth among the chosen,
With all aboard, from cook to boasun.
XXXIV
“Besides, I find a hopeful smatter
Of palliation in the matter.
Your past has kinder been your master
In sin as well as in disaster.
It grabbed you at the first beginnin',
Before you squarely thought of sinnin',
An' when it fairly got you under,
It dragged you down to blood an' plunder,
An' through a sort of necromancy,
That wasn't strictly to your fancy,
It made you grind a grist of evil,
For which I mainly blame the deevle.
Of palliation in the matter.
Your past has kinder been your master
In sin as well as in disaster.
It grabbed you at the first beginnin',
Before you squarely thought of sinnin',
An' when it fairly got you under,
It dragged you down to blood an' plunder,
An' through a sort of necromancy,
That wasn't strictly to your fancy,
It made you grind a grist of evil,
For which I mainly blame the deevle.
In short, you've been predestinated
To walk the very road you hated;
An' therefore I should say for sartin
The surest way to do your cartin
An' find the marciful pertection
Would be the doctrine of election.
Election is Apollyon's horror;
It brimstones hell like old Gomorror,
An' raises scalds on Gog an' Magog
As broad acrost as Lake Umbagog,
An' scorches every imp to cinder
Who tries to chuck it out o' winder.
To walk the very road you hated;
An' therefore I should say for sartin
The surest way to do your cartin
An' find the marciful pertection
Would be the doctrine of election.
Election is Apollyon's horror;
It brimstones hell like old Gomorror,
An' raises scalds on Gog an' Magog
As broad acrost as Lake Umbagog,
An' scorches every imp to cinder
Who tries to chuck it out o' winder.
195
That doggamy is your reliance;
Astride of that you'll bid defiance
To terrors, doubts an' suchlike temptins';
An' when creation runs to emptins'
When all the tribes of men an' sperrits
Are jedged accordin' to their merits,
You'll see yourselves as high as any,
If Downing's word is worth a penny.
Astride of that you'll bid defiance
To terrors, doubts an' suchlike temptins';
An' when creation runs to emptins'
When all the tribes of men an' sperrits
Are jedged accordin' to their merits,
You'll see yourselves as high as any,
If Downing's word is worth a penny.
XXXV
“After your rough an tough probation
No doubt you'll find a consolation
In makin' sech a hahnsome showin'
While shootin' stars an trumpets blowin'
Reveal to every kind of Hessians
The emptiness of mere perfessions
Without a sure an' solid standin'
Upon the creed of Plymouth Landin'.
No doubt you'll find a consolation
In makin' sech a hahnsome showin'
While shootin' stars an trumpets blowin'
Reveal to every kind of Hessians
The emptiness of mere perfessions
Without a sure an' solid standin'
Upon the creed of Plymouth Landin'.
In that arousin' day the sinners
Won't keer for drinks before their dinners;
In vain they'll talk of keerds an' smokin',
An' try to brave it out by jokin';
They'll soon begin to want a shelter
An' start for cover helter-skelter.
With graves ajar beneath their noses
An' saints a-shinin' round like Moses,
How they will jump an' dodge an' travel
To keep from slumpin' under gravel,
An scoot acrost lots limber-jinted
Whichever way their snoots are pinted,
But tucker out at last, an' foller
Apollyon down to Brimstone Holler!
Won't keer for drinks before their dinners;
In vain they'll talk of keerds an' smokin',
An' try to brave it out by jokin';
They'll soon begin to want a shelter
An' start for cover helter-skelter.
With graves ajar beneath their noses
An' saints a-shinin' round like Moses,
How they will jump an' dodge an' travel
To keep from slumpin' under gravel,
An scoot acrost lots limber-jinted
Whichever way their snoots are pinted,
196
Apollyon down to Brimstone Holler!
But you, the children of election,
Ordained to keep the right direction,
Or only sidlin' out by seasons
For practical an' pressin' reasons
(As granthers, when the way is stony,
Take medder paths, to spare the pony)
You, knowin' well your sartin callin',
Won't mind to see the skies a-fallin';
You'll stand around as stiff as steeples,
An' mayhap jedge some casyal peoples.”
Ordained to keep the right direction,
Or only sidlin' out by seasons
For practical an' pressin' reasons
(As granthers, when the way is stony,
Take medder paths, to spare the pony)
You, knowin' well your sartin callin',
Won't mind to see the skies a-fallin';
You'll stand around as stiff as steeples,
An' mayhap jedge some casyal peoples.”
For a similar sermon, by a Georgian camp-meeting exhorter, see the New York Independent of July 12, 1873. Diversity of time and place cannot mar the unity of genius.
XXXVI
To suchlike cheering talk our chief
Did treat these patient sons of grief,
Whereof he babbled knowing little,
But holding every jot and title;
For while he never once debated
But Hell would swallow those he hated,
He thought that whoso roused his pity
Would smoothly reach the golden city;
And doubtless he foreshadowed certain
Exhorters now before the curtain,
Who, whether orthodox or arian,
Are certainly humanitarian.
Did treat these patient sons of grief,
Whereof he babbled knowing little,
But holding every jot and title;
For while he never once debated
But Hell would swallow those he hated,
He thought that whoso roused his pity
Would smoothly reach the golden city;
And doubtless he foreshadowed certain
Exhorters now before the curtain,
Who, whether orthodox or arian,
Are certainly humanitarian.
197
Yet being practical in mind,
And by orig'nal sin inclined
To spice his theologic quirks
With Satan's sauce of goodly works;
As, also, bearing great affection
To martial modes of intellection
(For instance, loving much to pour
His views along a rifle's bore)
He shortly ceased to prate about
The topics fate has wrapped in doubt,
And begged his hosts to take in hand
The alien swarms who plagued our land.
And by orig'nal sin inclined
To spice his theologic quirks
With Satan's sauce of goodly works;
As, also, bearing great affection
To martial modes of intellection
(For instance, loving much to pour
His views along a rifle's bore)
He shortly ceased to prate about
The topics fate has wrapped in doubt,
And begged his hosts to take in hand
The alien swarms who plagued our land.
With fervent Yankee zeal he prayed
The Flying Hollanders to raid
Britannic Majesty's possessions;
Or, failing this, to mount the Hessians
And sink the wizard fleets that drew
Their legions over Neptune's blue;
Or, missing these, to make a run
In search of Freedom's setting sun
And garb our needy continentals
In mediaeval regimentals.
The Flying Hollanders to raid
Britannic Majesty's possessions;
Or, failing this, to mount the Hessians
And sink the wizard fleets that drew
Their legions over Neptune's blue;
Or, missing these, to make a run
In search of Freedom's setting sun
And garb our needy continentals
In mediaeval regimentals.
Ah, moment lost! If Downing might
Have won these ancient men to fight,
Brittania's unicorn had sunk
Beneath their veteran skill and spunk.
Have won these ancient men to fight,
Brittania's unicorn had sunk
Beneath their veteran skill and spunk.
XXXVII
Betimes our worthy chieftain strolled
In wonder through the rover's hold,
Surveying riches manifold:
A spoil of Afric shells and whorls;
Embroidered bags of Persian pearls;
Cathayan pipes with ivory stems;
Arabian falchions sheathed in gems;
The glossy bars of an argent mine,
And caskets brimmed with brilliants fine;
A hundred leathern sacks, or more,
Of gold in sequins, gold in ore;
Sandal coffers of Indian shawls;
Ebony thrones from Java's halls;
Opulent bales of silver braid
And sheeny silk and stiff brocade;
The spice and gums and healing balms
Of sunny islands clothed in palms;
While aloes, frankincense and cloves
Exhaled a steam of tropic groves.
In wonder through the rover's hold,
Surveying riches manifold:
198
Embroidered bags of Persian pearls;
Cathayan pipes with ivory stems;
Arabian falchions sheathed in gems;
The glossy bars of an argent mine,
And caskets brimmed with brilliants fine;
A hundred leathern sacks, or more,
Of gold in sequins, gold in ore;
Sandal coffers of Indian shawls;
Ebony thrones from Java's halls;
Opulent bales of silver braid
And sheeny silk and stiff brocade;
The spice and gums and healing balms
Of sunny islands clothed in palms;
While aloes, frankincense and cloves
Exhaled a steam of tropic groves.
All these he saw and coveted.
For Downing? No! No miser he!
He sued for starving ranks that bled
In shoonless feet beyond the sea.
Yea, high and noble were his longings
To raise a loan on these belongings,
And pay our troops in money minted,
Instead of money merely printed.
For Downing? No! No miser he!
He sued for starving ranks that bled
In shoonless feet beyond the sea.
Yea, high and noble were his longings
To raise a loan on these belongings,
And pay our troops in money minted,
Instead of money merely printed.
But no! The Wanderer of Time
Had done with battle's flame and grime.
In vain might glory's trumpet sound;
He answered, “I am homeward bound,”
And, speaking thus, would calmly raise
His brow with such a far-off gaze
As often glorifies the eye
Of mortal who is near to die.
Had done with battle's flame and grime.
In vain might glory's trumpet sound;
He answered, “I am homeward bound,”
And, speaking thus, would calmly raise
His brow with such a far-off gaze
199
Of mortal who is near to die.
Moreover, Downing's child began
To love this sorrow-hunted man,
As angels love a mourning soul;
So tender-swift to spare him dole
That ever, when her sire might dare
Renew his plea for martial ware
She checked his zeal with silent prayer;
She hushed him, though he never heard
From those seraphic lips a word.
To love this sorrow-hunted man,
As angels love a mourning soul;
So tender-swift to spare him dole
That ever, when her sire might dare
Renew his plea for martial ware
She checked his zeal with silent prayer;
She hushed him, though he never heard
From those seraphic lips a word.
So, onward over shining seas,
Without a sail, against the breeze,
The lonely, wizard vessel flew,
No longer thrust before a crew
Of tempest-fiends, but gently pressed
From hailing crest to hailing crest
By loving wings unseen of men.
The very galleon seemed to ken
That now at last she neared her home
And presently might cease to roam;
For all about her prow she sang,
And carols round her rudder rang,
And every rope had tuneful lips;
She was the joyfullest of ships
That ever ploughed a gladsome wave,
Although she flew to find a grave.
Without a sail, against the breeze,
The lonely, wizard vessel flew,
No longer thrust before a crew
Of tempest-fiends, but gently pressed
From hailing crest to hailing crest
By loving wings unseen of men.
The very galleon seemed to ken
That now at last she neared her home
And presently might cease to roam;
For all about her prow she sang,
And carols round her rudder rang,
And every rope had tuneful lips;
She was the joyfullest of ships
That ever ploughed a gladsome wave,
Although she flew to find a grave.
200
XXXVIII
The morning came, the last of moil
For those who sought their natal soil;
And, through the filmy wraiths that drave
In shoals from steely wave to wave,
They sighted Holland's seaward bounds,
Her endless dikes, her misty sounds;
And stealing on from shape to shape,
By yawning bight and crawling cape,
Anon they plainly spied afar
A tangled wood of mast and spar,
Displaying flags of all mankind,
With roofs in thousands ranked behind.
While here and yonder lofty spires
Uplifted psalms from brazen lyres,
Carilloning o'er earth and sea
That queenly city's jubilee.
For those who sought their natal soil;
And, through the filmy wraiths that drave
In shoals from steely wave to wave,
They sighted Holland's seaward bounds,
Her endless dikes, her misty sounds;
And stealing on from shape to shape,
By yawning bight and crawling cape,
Anon they plainly spied afar
A tangled wood of mast and spar,
Displaying flags of all mankind,
With roofs in thousands ranked behind.
While here and yonder lofty spires
Uplifted psalms from brazen lyres,
Carilloning o'er earth and sea
That queenly city's jubilee.
And this was Amsterdam. Her sails
Were all around them. Marvelling hails
Pursued and met these otherworld
Vikings veering with canvas furled
And flaunting flags of ages gone.
They answered not; they speeded on,
All landward gazing; every eye
Intent with yearning hope to spy
A shape familiar to its gaze,—
A ghost, at least, of other days;
Intent perchance to find a spot
Where lasting quiet might be got,
The peace that man nor cyclone stirs
The restful peace of sepulchres.
Were all around them. Marvelling hails
Pursued and met these otherworld
Vikings veering with canvas furled
And flaunting flags of ages gone.
They answered not; they speeded on,
All landward gazing; every eye
Intent with yearning hope to spy
A shape familiar to its gaze,—
A ghost, at least, of other days;
Intent perchance to find a spot
Where lasting quiet might be got,
The peace that man nor cyclone stirs
The restful peace of sepulchres.
201
XXXIX
But nearing now their longed for goal,
A ghostly transformation stole
Athwart these searchers after land.
A mighty spell, a spectral hand,
Perchance the fume of earthly airs,
Unbraced the kindly, tender snares
Of miracle that held them young;
And all the bygone years that hung
Above them fluttered down; and they
Were smitten wrinkled, bent and grey.
A ghostly transformation stole
Athwart these searchers after land.
A mighty spell, a spectral hand,
Perchance the fume of earthly airs,
Unbraced the kindly, tender snares
Of miracle that held them young;
And all the bygone years that hung
Above them fluttered down; and they
Were smitten wrinkled, bent and grey.
A froth of silver overrolled
The captain's wealth of curling gold,
And furrows crept adown his cheek,
And palsy made his stoutness meek.
The rounded grace and rosebud hue
Of fair Cornelie Vanderloo
Fell tremulous and white and spare
As lated stars in morning's glare.
From breath to breath the awful change
Increased in might, took wider range,
Pervaded spirit, blood and bone,
And swiftly laid the strongest prone.
The captain's wealth of curling gold,
And furrows crept adown his cheek,
And palsy made his stoutness meek.
The rounded grace and rosebud hue
Of fair Cornelie Vanderloo
Fell tremulous and white and spare
As lated stars in morning's glare.
From breath to breath the awful change
Increased in might, took wider range,
Pervaded spirit, blood and bone,
And swiftly laid the strongest prone.
Erelong the leader stood alone,
With agèd head in meekness bent,
And prayed, “Receive us! we repent.”
One moment stood with lifted face;
One moment claimed the Heavenly grace;
Then sate, nor quitted more his place.
Cornelie, now a withered dame,
Embraced with tears the shrunken frame
Of him whose fated nuptial band
For ages gemmed her living hand,
Both bowing heads of silver hair
And moving ashen lips in prayer.
With agèd head in meekness bent,
And prayed, “Receive us! we repent.”
One moment stood with lifted face;
One moment claimed the Heavenly grace;
Then sate, nor quitted more his place.
Cornelie, now a withered dame,
202
Of him whose fated nuptial band
For ages gemmed her living hand,
Both bowing heads of silver hair
And moving ashen lips in prayer.
The greybeard sailors, ghostly pale
And shaking, leaned against the rail,
Or feebly fumbled tools of rust
And cordage crumbling into dust.
For all the galleon was fraught
With swift decadence into naught;
The sails were dropping mould and blight;
The spars blew off in slivers white;
The oaken sides and bolted deck
Relaxed to flimsy, yawning wreck;
Each onward fathom tow'rd the quay.
Wrought lustres, cycles, of decay.
And shaking, leaned against the rail,
Or feebly fumbled tools of rust
And cordage crumbling into dust.
For all the galleon was fraught
With swift decadence into naught;
The sails were dropping mould and blight;
The spars blew off in slivers white;
The oaken sides and bolted deck
Relaxed to flimsy, yawning wreck;
Each onward fathom tow'rd the quay.
Wrought lustres, cycles, of decay.
XL
Then Esther Downing, weeping, cried:
“O arms of mercy, open wide!”
But quickly turned her piteous stare
On Vanderdecken, blanching there,
And watched him with the stony eye,
Of one who sees her dearest die.
“O arms of mercy, open wide!”
But quickly turned her piteous stare
On Vanderdecken, blanching there,
And watched him with the stony eye,
Of one who sees her dearest die.
Her father, gazing where she signed,
Beheld the fated chief reclined,
As white as man already dead,
His breath a sigh, his vision fled,
But glad in all his patient face,
Like one who fainting wins the race;
While close beside, companions still
As when they followed him in ill,
His kinsmen paled in mortal chill;
And farther on, in groups of death,
His sailors gasped away their breath;
All waning into swift eclipse,
Yet wearing on their pallid lips
The gentle, thankful smile of those
Who enter joy through gates of woes.
Beheld the fated chief reclined,
As white as man already dead,
His breath a sigh, his vision fled,
But glad in all his patient face,
203
While close beside, companions still
As when they followed him in ill,
His kinsmen paled in mortal chill;
And farther on, in groups of death,
His sailors gasped away their breath;
All waning into swift eclipse,
Yet wearing on their pallid lips
The gentle, thankful smile of those
Who enter joy through gates of woes.
So much the father saw; and then
He fled before those ghastly men.
He caught his child within his arm
And burst away in mad alarm;
He crossed the sways and vanishings
And dusty whirls of fading things;
And, leaping ere the bulwark broke,
Fell gasping-dumb 'mid living folk,
A city trampling, all a-stare,
To see a galleon melt in air.
He fled before those ghastly men.
He caught his child within his arm
And burst away in mad alarm;
He crossed the sways and vanishings
And dusty whirls of fading things;
And, leaping ere the bulwark broke,
Fell gasping-dumb 'mid living folk,
A city trampling, all a-stare,
To see a galleon melt in air.
XLI
The vessel followed him; it stole
In silence on; it touched the mole
With gentle rustle, like to moss,
Or fungus sprays, or thistle floss,
A sigh of ruin barely heard,
Though never starer murmured word.
In silence on; it touched the mole
With gentle rustle, like to moss,
Or fungus sprays, or thistle floss,
A sigh of ruin barely heard,
Though never starer murmured word.
Arising, Downing turned to gaze,
But only spied a drowsy haze
Of ashy motes and filmy scales
In place of hull and masts and sails.
Inert and pale it towered high;
One solemn moment stained the sky;
Then slowly into distance waned,
And when it vanished, naught remained;
The ocean-pest had ceased to roam;
The voyagers had found their home.
But e'en to that upstaring throng
Descended grateful drifts of song,
The chorusings of raptured sprites
Already nearing Eden's heights;
To whom replied a welcome-psalm
From courts of golden crown and palm.
But only spied a drowsy haze
204
In place of hull and masts and sails.
Inert and pale it towered high;
One solemn moment stained the sky;
Then slowly into distance waned,
And when it vanished, naught remained;
The ocean-pest had ceased to roam;
The voyagers had found their home.
But e'en to that upstaring throng
Descended grateful drifts of song,
The chorusings of raptured sprites
Already nearing Eden's heights;
To whom replied a welcome-psalm
From courts of golden crown and palm.
Then, peering downward through the tide
Of verdant crystal, men espied
A pulverous settling, frail as dawn,
That glimmered, shuddered, and was gone.
Thin waters, woven through with braid
Of trembling sunbeams, overlaid
The formless, stagnant residue
Of one whom every tempest knew.
Of verdant crystal, men espied
A pulverous settling, frail as dawn,
That glimmered, shuddered, and was gone.
Thin waters, woven through with braid
Of trembling sunbeams, overlaid
The formless, stagnant residue
Of one whom every tempest knew.
So endeth oft the noblest plan
Of life's mysterious vagrant, Man.
He struggles long with hostile waves;
He triumphs, calls the winds his slaves;
He hastens, thinking not to drown,
And, shouting, “Land!” goes swiftly down.
Of life's mysterious vagrant, Man.
He struggles long with hostile waves;
He triumphs, calls the winds his slaves;
He hastens, thinking not to drown,
And, shouting, “Land!” goes swiftly down.
205
XLII
Our chief in marvel raised his head,
“At least it fetched us here,” he said;
“And that is sartinly a sign
That Goodness favors our design.”
“At least it fetched us here,” he said;
“And that is sartinly a sign
That Goodness favors our design.”
Thereon he rived the burgher jam
And calmly entered Amsterdam.
But scarcely had he bent his feet
To thread a dusky, devious street,
With lofty fronts on either hand,
The quaintest mortal ever planned,
Ere one who passed him in the fry,
On tiptoe wheeled with bulging eye,
And shooting forth a bony wrist,
Commenced to shake his honored fist,
Salaaming all the while in tone
And dialect like Downing's own.
And calmly entered Amsterdam.
But scarcely had he bent his feet
To thread a dusky, devious street,
With lofty fronts on either hand,
The quaintest mortal ever planned,
Ere one who passed him in the fry,
On tiptoe wheeled with bulging eye,
And shooting forth a bony wrist,
Commenced to shake his honored fist,
Salaaming all the while in tone
And dialect like Downing's own.
Our hero turned, in vast amaze
At Yankee speech in Holland ways.
He turned and saw a longlimbed man
As lean and limber as rattan,
With lanky hair and hollow cheek
And quizzing lips and sharpened beak,
Who seemed to his delighted eyes
An angel sent from downeast skies.
In songful drawl the stranger spake:
“I ruther guess there's no mistake
About your being Shiloh's lion,
The chap who saved our Yankee Zion.”
At Yankee speech in Holland ways.
He turned and saw a longlimbed man
As lean and limber as rattan,
With lanky hair and hollow cheek
And quizzing lips and sharpened beak,
Who seemed to his delighted eyes
An angel sent from downeast skies.
In songful drawl the stranger spake:
“I ruther guess there's no mistake
About your being Shiloh's lion,
The chap who saved our Yankee Zion.”
Then, ramming fists in trouser-pockets,
He spouted tidings bright as rockets;
Rehearsing how the bird of freedom
Had ripped the sawdust out of Edom
And hustled every bull of Bashan
Across the bounds of all creation;
By which he meant our sires had smitten
The hosts of Hessiandom and Britain,
And won for Downing and descendants
The stars and stripes of independence.
206
Rehearsing how the bird of freedom
Had ripped the sawdust out of Edom
And hustled every bull of Bashan
Across the bounds of all creation;
By which he meant our sires had smitten
The hosts of Hessiandom and Britain,
And won for Downing and descendants
The stars and stripes of independence.
XLIII
Our hero smiled with satisfaction,
But promptly turned his thoughts to action.
He rang the bells, convened the city,
And made a speech, a loan, a treaty;
Then, striking out some Yankee notion
(Unknown to us) of crossing ocean,
He turned his back on plans of slaughter
And journeyed home with gun and daughter.
But promptly turned his thoughts to action.
He rang the bells, convened the city,
And made a speech, a loan, a treaty;
Then, striking out some Yankee notion
(Unknown to us) of crossing ocean,
He turned his back on plans of slaughter
And journeyed home with gun and daughter.
Thus fortuned it that Shiloh's hero
Reduced no Hessian states to Zero,
But hammered ploughshares from his sabre
And settled down to farming labor.
Ah, who could trust the weird narration
If Downing did not mean a nation,
Our Yankee wit and brawn and bravery,
Our hate of Beelzebub and slavery!
Reduced no Hessian states to Zero,
But hammered ploughshares from his sabre
And settled down to farming labor.
Ah, who could trust the weird narration
If Downing did not mean a nation,
Our Yankee wit and brawn and bravery,
Our hate of Beelzebub and slavery!
| The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme | |