Poems; original and translated :: :: University of Virginia Library

I hied me to the railroad, and with wonder and delight
I look'd upon the bustling scene that broke upon my sight;
A motley crowd, the young, the old, the busy and the gay,
And carriage close to carriage link'd in long and bright array.

The brass-ribb'd engine stood in front, and fiery red it shone,
And spat forth hissing steam, as if impatient to be gone:
The signal rang; and like a ship just launch'd into the main,
With unimpeded easy march majestic moved the train.

But soon its course grew more and more impetuous and strong,
And soon its full collected force in thunder roll'd along;
And swifter than the swiftest wind that flies from pole to pole,
Thought after thought incessantly came rushing on my soul.

Tis thus the man of stern resolve straight to his purpose goes;
The prospect all before him lies, no obstacle he knows;
No dalliance can him surprise, no weariness delay;
He never turns to pick the flowers that spring beside his way.

In hollow cloven tracks we dived, and rocks were o'er our head;
On huge earth-piles we mounted, and the vale beneath was spread:
Ye mighty of our kindred, what are hill and vale to you?
Ye raise the low, the rough ye plane, all Nature ye subdue.

We skirted field and meadow, flocks and husbandmen we saw;
They lifted up their heads, and stood regarding us with awe;
But us from field and meadow far the rapid moment bore,
And flocks were grazing, husbandmen were tilling as before.

And Nature to our feeble sight her wondrous work displays,
We heed it not, perhaps in brief bewilderment we gaze;
We live among her harmonies, but study not their laws,
We reap creation's fairest fruit, but think not of the cause.

Upon a gently sloping lawn a modest mansion stood,
And children frolick'd on the grass, and laugh'd in merry mood;
And when the bulky train they saw, and heard the loud uproar,
They paus'd not in their merriment, but only laugh'd the more.

And thus does it befall the vain and pompous of the earth;
They think to move our wonder, when they only move our mirth:
The barge with all its bravery comes splashing down the tide,
But nought the little fishes care that under water glide.

A shriek, as if in agony some demon-spirit yell'd!
And straight before with gaping jaws a cavern I beheld;
And all beyond that narrow mouth look'd hideous and grim,
A vista long of darkness lit by glimmering torches dim.

Shriek, monster! It may be thy fate against that cavern-wall
To dash thyself, and shiver'd in a thousand pieces fall!
And fearful tis to plunge into that solitary gloom!
How dare the living to explore the silence of the tomb?

Yet in it rush'd precipitate, the iron caravan;
The hollow echoes right and left reverberating ran:
And on it went right steadily. Thus Courage ever fares,
When forward on the path she goes, which Prudence well prepares.

And out we came triumphantly emerging to the plain,
And daylight brightly shone, and all was beautiful again;
And often, when in deepest gloom of sorrow we abide,
There breaks upon our dreariness a sudden morning tide.

Soon spire and turret rose to view; a peopled town was near;
Then slacken'd his impetuous course our wary charioteer;
The engine, like a hard-mouth'd steed that feels the curbing hand,
Came puffing to the station-side, and halted at command.

And passengers alighted here, and passengers got in;
To some their toils have ended, when to others they begin;
And new companions still we find, and still the old we lose,
The dearest friends we cannot keep, the best we seldom choose.

The minute's past, the bell hath rung! Quick to your places now!
Here's one with flushing countenance and sweat upon his brow
Down running to the platform comes; alas! too late, too late!
The train is off; for time and tide for no man ever wait.

And over many a mile we sped, and over many a league,
And much I saw, and never did my spirit feel fatigue;
And if at times my weary eye on vacancy would rest,
The busy thought was never still self-stirring in my breast.

I mused upon the multitude, whom chance together brought;
And neighbourhood, could one discern, with lessons deep is fraught;
Tis strange, that man from brother man small interval should part,
And nought they see or understand of one another's heart.

The man of ease and comfort was reclining in his chair,
Like Selfishness, that holds her own, and gives to none a share;
The poor man heaven-canopied; the hailshot and the rain,
The tempest-wind may buffet him, and he may not complain.

The violet in her leafy bed beside the bramble grows;
The gardenman roots out the weed, but cherishes the rose;
Yet Heaven on flower and weed alike its dewy nurture sends,
And light and shade of human life mysteriously blends.

A wedded pair with glances held their silent commune sweet,
As in the solitude of heaven two stars each other greet;
And passing things seem'd shadowlike to flit before their eyes;
Their world was all within themselves, a dream of paradise.

A maiden by her mother sat; ten years she might have seen;
And she had laugh'd and prattled much; but now with alter'd mien
Said, looking in her mother's face, “When shall we be at home?”
Her mother loook'd at her again; I thought the tears would come:

They started from her eyelids, and the cause I surely knew;
Upon her face the widow's cap its shade of sadness threw:
No husband waited her return; his step she would not hear;
And home to her a desert was, that once had been so dear.

And she was tired, that little child; the minutes crept so dull;
Of troubling thoughts and memories to her they were not full:
The time may come, when she will look upon the dreary past,
And ask with sad remembrance, why the years have flown so fast.

And what is he, with lips comprest, and sullen fixed eye?
Deep meanings in that furrow'd cheek and arching forehead lie:
Methought, in one keen flashing look the past and future met,
A struggle 'twas to seize on hope, and cast away regret;

And then his eye grew cold again, a glassy aspect wore;
Some nurseling of his anxious heart he darkly brooded o'er:
Could I thy meaning penetrate? Revolvest thou some plan
With honour pregnant to thyself and benefit to man?

Or weavest thou some spider-web with subtle meshes fine,
A miserable prey to catch? Whate'er thou dost design,
The web shall be unwound at length, the mystery be told,
And dark be light, and thou thyself and others thee behold.

And I? Alas! But hence away all selfish griefs I throw,
Forgetting them in sympathy for others' weal and woe:
To love and friendship let me live; no other hope is mine;
A few kind hearts are beating yet; and I will not repine.

Roll on, fire-winged courser, roll! With all thy speed, I trow,
The hearts of them thou carriest are swifter yet than thou.
A fiercer flame enkindles them. Tumultuous and blind,
In hope, in fear, they hurry on; thou laggest far behind.

Aye, gather all thine energies, roll rapid as thou wilt;
Thou canst not yet move fast enough for Avarice and Guilt;
For her that counts and gloats upon the pelf she cannot see,
For her that flies from all the world, herself can never flee.

And we, with all our journeyings, our headlong mad career,
We cannot lengthen human life. The end is still as near.
Unstay'd by us, thro' light and darkness, over deep and shoal,
The billowy time-river sweeps right onward to its goal.

Yet speed along, thou mighty one! It hath been said of thee,
That with the spirit of the age thou dost too well agree;
Thou seemest with remorseless step self-confident to fly,
And man doth vaunt Salmoneus-like, and heavenly power defy.

Tis false! To spirit more sublime the age hath given birth,
Whose seraph-wing is waving now, illumining the earth!
And wondrous that machinery, that thunderpace of thine;
Yet he that moulded thee doth own his origin divine.

Then forward! Still upon thy course prosperity attend!
And thou shalt be to high and low, to rich and poor a friend;
And thou shalt scatter wide the seed of plenteousness and peace;
And man shall move him to and fro, and knowledge true increase.