University of Virginia Library

[Pictures enough! 'Tis time the gallery close]

Pictures enough! 'Tis time the gallery close;
The slumbering nod, the waking need repose.
Yet ere we rake the ashes on the coals,
One brighter spark shall fire these wearied souls.
The lonely man, whose story none could tell,—
The knave, who kept his secret till he fell,—
The lover's silent lip and wasting cheek,—
The brooding mother's hope that would not speak,—
The fevered statesman's soul-consuming dream,—
Enough of these; I ask a loftier theme!
[OMITTED]
Ye that proclaim the fierce destroyer's creed,
Shut your white lips and listen while I read:
“When tongues are fiery hot and hearts are cold,
“When faith grows weak and faction waxes bold,
“When the wise whisper and the fools are loud,
“When every brawler has his noisy crowd,
“When peaceful Abel leaves his fruits and grain
“To call hard names and shake his fist at Cain,
“When gray old Judah casts his open vote
“To sell his brother in the patch-work coat,
“Shout, Despots, shout across the shuddering wave!
“The Sexton stands by Freedom's open grave!”
Still let us hope!—What sudden mists arise
And veil the shapes that filled my outward eyes?
A vision floats before my dreaming soul;—
A proud fair maiden clasps a mystic scroll;
On hand is circled on a lofty spear,
One foot is planted on a pictured sphere.
“Behold!” she cries, “and tremble as ye read;
“This is the patriot's first and latest creed!
“Wo to the unborn children of the age
“That blots or rends its Heaven-emblazoned page!”
Large is the scroll; its living lines how bright,
As the long legend flashes in the light!
O for one word! for those mysterious gleams
Cheat my strained vision, as in midnight dreams.
Spread the curled leaf that holds the solemn creed,
Now, now, if ever, is the hour to read!
The maiden smiles; a purple hem she tears
And blinds it fluttering to the lance she bears.
Borne on the quivering staff in upper air
The winds unfold it, flowing broad and fair;
See how it waves and widens! Now, behold!
Rayed like the morning! Fired with spots of gold!
I know the milk-white bands—the flaming bars—
My country's flag, with all its radiant stars!
One hue it borrows from the tropic's rose,
And one comes glistening from the polar snows,
Forever braided, till the crownless Queen
Sweeps with its folds the mighty world between!