 | City legends |  |
II.
Or tell them of the fair ambassadress
That France—hot-veined republic of the East—
Sent to her sister of the Western waves
Bearing the magic torch of liberty:
France—she who with her aid long years ago,
Gave us the eagle—type of Victory:
That France—hot-veined republic of the East—
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Bearing the magic torch of liberty:
France—she who with her aid long years ago,
Gave us the eagle—type of Victory:
THE VESTAL.
Into the bay—the great, wide, wealth-fringed bay,
Whose every tide sweeps hamlets to our shores—
Where king-slaves have their fetters struck away—
Whence can be read, on the new nation's doors,
“Leave hopelessness behind, who enters here!”
Harbor of hope!—invaded, without fear,
By ships of labor, sailed from rotting ports,
And toil whose plumage had been stol'n by courts—
Into that bay, a virgin-guest comes nigh,
And holds her lamp unto the star-gemmed sky.
Whose every tide sweeps hamlets to our shores—
Where king-slaves have their fetters struck away—
Whence can be read, on the new nation's doors,
“Leave hopelessness behind, who enters here!”
Harbor of hope!—invaded, without fear,
By ships of labor, sailed from rotting ports,
And toil whose plumage had been stol'n by courts—
Into that bay, a virgin-guest comes nigh,
And holds her lamp unto the star-gemmed sky.
They sent her from that empire of the East,
Whose “king” hath dynasty the same as ours;
From the rich harvest, and the vineyard-feast;
From glistening domes, and ivy-mantled towers.
Peasants have toiled, throughout the sultry day,
The tributes of her ocean-march to pay;
The artisan has wrought, that she might rise
And smile into his western brother's eyes;
The thought-smith—he with busy heart and brain—
Helped feed her torch that gleams across the main.
Whose “king” hath dynasty the same as ours;
From the rich harvest, and the vineyard-feast;
From glistening domes, and ivy-mantled towers.
Peasants have toiled, throughout the sultry day,
The tributes of her ocean-march to pay;
The artisan has wrought, that she might rise
And smile into his western brother's eyes;
The thought-smith—he with busy heart and brain—
Helped feed her torch that gleams across the main.
She brings to us a century that is past;
The legend of a gift of long agone;
A favor that like diamonds shall last,
And gleam but brighter as the years gloom on.
They gave us gold when recompense was doubt;
Perish the greed that blots that memory out!
They gave us hope, when our own star had set;
May the brain soften that would shun the debt!
They gave us heroes, with a fame as bright
As mountain watch-fires on a winter's night.
The legend of a gift of long agone;
A favor that like diamonds shall last,
And gleam but brighter as the years gloom on.
They gave us gold when recompense was doubt;
Perish the greed that blots that memory out!
They gave us hope, when our own star had set;
May the brain soften that would shun the debt!
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As mountain watch-fires on a winter's night.
Stand, Vestal, with thy virgin flame e'er clear,
And guard our future pilgrims to their rest
In the great city, where, year after year,
Their march shall feed our never-failing West.
Tell those who hated greed, and hurried thence,
That honest toil hath here a recompense;
Say to the lawless—whosoe'er they be—
That men must live obedient, to live free;
And sing for us, o'er the blue waves' expanse—
“With all our faults and thine, we love thee, France!”
And guard our future pilgrims to their rest
In the great city, where, year after year,
Their march shall feed our never-failing West.
Tell those who hated greed, and hurried thence,
That honest toil hath here a recompense;
Say to the lawless—whosoe'er they be—
That men must live obedient, to live free;
And sing for us, o'er the blue waves' expanse—
“With all our faults and thine, we love thee, France!”
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