 | Songs of summer |  |
202
VI.
1.
Weep? and wherefore should I? Grief is unavailing,And tears are not for manhood; we must not whine like boys:
The malice of our natures is ancient, and unfailing;
The gods are jealous of us, their images and toys!
They sit up in the clouds there, and do whate'er they please,
While men walk in the dust here, and follow their decrees!
And I am one among ye, ye myriads of men,
Though not like ye in essence, nor like ye curst and blest:
For ye in alternation may weep, and smile again,
While I am always laden with burdens of unrest.
What have ye done, what do ye, unless indeed your worst,
Ye many as the grasses, or billows of the main?
But billows flow, and grasses grow, as ordered from the first;
But ye, how are ye growing? What learn ye here, save pain?
2.
Ye live upon a grand old world in unimagined space;203
Above, a host of starry lights that stare ye in the face,
Or would, indeed, but that your eyes are fixed upon the ground!
Why stare ye on the ground so, when stars are in the sky?
Is it to watch the spring-flowers that twinkle in the mold?
Not so: nor think ye of your graves, though Death is ever nigh,
But only of the gold beneath, the curséd, curséd gold!
When ye were boys, my brothers, in the merry years of old,
There was a pomp and beauty about the changing day;
Some little worth in youth and love, some grief at their decay;
But the world has taught ye better; there's nothing now but Gold!
Ye worship golden idols, no matter what they be,
Were I well gilded over, ye'd worship even me!
Forever o'er the ledger, (its missal,) Trade is bent,
And the age responds, (its sole amen!) “Per cent! per cent! per cent!”
Were this all, I would not murmur: Nay! I do not murmur now;
204
There's a dignity in dollars, and a wisdom hid in gold,
Which the poor man cannot fathom, howsoever wise and bold.
3.
Not for this I blame ye, brothers, nor that ye reject the flowers,See no glory in the starlight, know no meaning in the wind;
Not for angels look I, hope I, in a world like this of ours;
I only ask for men, but men I cannot find.
All your actions, public, private, lack a certain manly tone;
Either ye are arrant cowards, else ye are absurdly brave:
Either to himself, or others, man is more or less a slave,
Not the king and god he should be, with his heavenly realm and throne.
In yourselves ye might be royal, might be every thing ye would;
But for help ye call in others, when the one alone is good!
First in youth your hearts are tender; (granite, not so hard as mine!)
205
Others answer, 'tis their instinct; both your lusty arms entwine,
Both are kissing painted clay!
Who would pin his faith on woman, whom the lightest whim can move?
There is something half degrading in the very name of love!
Love yourselves, your dogs, your horses, even the cheats of dice and wine;
But for women—would your fancies were but half as free as mine!
4.
Then ye call in priests and monarchs, and are fain to summon more;But they shut and bar the door:
Man within himself is prisoned, and his jailers guard the cell,
Terrible with bristling bayonets, and the keys of heaven and hell:
Hell with all its noxious vapors never spawned such deadly twins:
Priests and monarchs! ye must answer all our aggregated sins!
From our weakness and our error, working on our love and terror,
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Each in his peculiar fashion elevates some human passion,
Deifies some mortal evil for his fellows to adore.
Pillared temples, marble statues, smoking altars, silver shrines,
Formed the frame of ancient creeds:
Mostly, all the moderns keep it, with a score of new designs,
Pictures, crucifixes, beads!
And to bind our spirits firmer, working in their addled brains,
Priests have feigned, or found, and added hell itself to their domains.
'Tis enough to make one merry! Nay! I care not for your ban;
Good my masters, hell is only in the wicked heart of man:
The black hearts that have enslaved us, since the very world began!
5.
Also you, ye gilded monarchs, in your tinsel robes of state,Ye are cheats and demons also, worthy our profoundest hate!
207
Up! ye nations! kill your tyrants! level prison, palace, throne!
Yet I know not, nor advise ye. Why should ye again be free?
Vassals! even when ye are so, ye are soon enslaved again:
Slavery has made ye heedful; use has made your fetters needful;
Let them be!
Think what bayonets oppose ye; think what thousands must be slain;
Think of Liberty's disasters; think of grim Religion's key,
Then, go supplicate your masters, soul and body on its knee,
Slaves again!
Slaves, I hate ye! hew your wood, and draw your water;
'Tis the best for dogs like you;
Beasts of burden! bear your burdens, march to slaughter!
Hecatombs, the earth demands it! Blood! it fattens her like dew!
6.
Up! be merry! never think! Eat and drink! eat and drink!208
Clink your glasses, toast your lasses,
Be no longer God, but man!
Clink your glasses, toast your lasses, set the table in a roar!
There's a vacant chair beside ye; there's a shadow on the floor,
And a knocking at the door!
Shout and drown it! 'tis but fancy; merry till your dying breath;
Merry in the teeth of Death!
Talk no longer of repentance; once indeed—but all is past:
Good or evil, 'tis no matter: we shall all be damned at last!
| Songs of summer | |