University of Virginia Library

Yet, what is life, but imperfection's breath,
And human Being, but incarnate fault
E'en at the best, howe'er by grace refined?
Moses was anger'd; David's honour fell;
Paul felt a thorn, and Peter proved untrue.
Genius hath faults, and Luther's none o'erveil.
A brave restorer of departed truth,
No hollow semblance, and no heartless shade
Came he on earth to manifest, or preach.
Manful, but rugged, to the centre bold,
His heart beat fiercely; and his blood ran fire
When Right divine, or some disastrous Wrong
Challenged his faith, or forced his feeling out
In action; then, the soul's tornado raged,
And shook the spirit to its moral roots!
Stormful, and strong, and gusty in his moods,
Oft the black whirlwind from some ireful cloud
Roused his rent bosom with disturbing rush,
And hurl'd propriety from off its throne
Amazed, and master'd. His was battle-life;
Great-hearted being! with a lion plunge
Full on the foe, with all his living fire
Leapt his free soul, magnanimous as firm,
And,—no surrender! for the Truth must fight,
And Faith prove conflict, if she stand sincere.

Spirits may be, like flowers from heaven that fall,
Deck'd with fine beauty, clad with mental bloom
Most delicate, but soon earth's tainted soil
Bedims them; trodden in the dust they lie,
Forgotten, faded, or defeatured things,
Ere yet they open'd their immortal buds
Of virtue, or their perfect fragrance gave.
Not such was Luther's: like some burly oak
Whose boughs wave battle with the tearing winds
And bend, but never break,—his fighting heart
Contended with all mutinies, which came
From prince, or pope, from circumstance, or creed,
And wrestled with them; or, with Samson force
Subdued them, or himself with glorious fall
Laid prostrate! Sinful oft, his moody ire
Betray'd him; unadvisèd words he spake;
And sometimes, when the fervid heart grew wild,
Scatter'd both friend and foe with burning force
And tameless fury! Like a soul on fire,
The gentle wonder'd, and the wise condemn'd
To see him thus by evil lightnings rent
And harrow'd: but, how soon the tempest died!
When the broad sunshine of forgiving love
Blazed o'er his spirit, like a summer-noon
Settled and bright. Not always hot and harsh
Did nature find him; playful moods had he;
For oft that smiting earnestness of tone
Which scorn'd the false, and cleaved all fiction through,
Priestly or papal, with a forcing might
That flash'd with fierceness, like a sword's descent,
Melted away; and, like an infant lull'd,
Pathetic Luther all the poet-life
Of purest feeling testified, and taught.
Witness, ye tears! that dropt o'er Tetzel's bed
When reft and dying; and o'er thine which fell,
Beloved, and lost, and beauteous Madaline!
Oft in the granite of a soil unhewn
Full many a flower in secret freshness smiles;
And many a stream, where all looks arid blank,
Lurks in the Horeb of some heart, unknown.
E'en such was Luther, with his rocky front
And jagged features, to the foe display'd:
But sweet affections, sanctified, and soft
As ever water'd human breast with love,
Gush'd into force when Feeling's reign began.