 | The poems of Richard Henry Stoddard |  |
404
SALVE, REGINA.
The race of greatness never dies.
Here, there, its fiery children rise,
Perform their splendid parts,
And captive take our hearts.
Here, there, its fiery children rise,
Perform their splendid parts,
And captive take our hearts.
Men, women of heroic mould
Have overcome us from of old;
Crowns waited then, as now,
For every royal brow.
Have overcome us from of old;
Crowns waited then, as now,
For every royal brow.
The victor in the Olympian Games—
His name among the proudest names
Was handed deathless down:
To him the olive crown.
His name among the proudest names
Was handed deathless down:
To him the olive crown.
And they, the poets, grave and sage,
Stern masters of the tragic stage,
Who moved by art austere
To pity, love, and fear—
Stern masters of the tragic stage,
Who moved by art austere
To pity, love, and fear—
To these was given the laurel crown,
Whose lightest leaf conferred renown
That through the ages fled
Still circles each gray head.
Whose lightest leaf conferred renown
That through the ages fled
Still circles each gray head.
But greener laurels cluster now,
World-gathered, on his spacious brow,
In his supremest Place,
Greatest of their great race—
World-gathered, on his spacious brow,
In his supremest Place,
Greatest of their great race—
405
Shakespeare! Honor to him, and her
Who stands his grand interpreter,
Stepped out of his broad page
Upon the living stage.
Who stands his grand interpreter,
Stepped out of his broad page
Upon the living stage.
The unseen hands that shape our fate
Moulded her strongly, made her great,
And gave her for her dower
Abundant life and power.
Moulded her strongly, made her great,
And gave her for her dower
Abundant life and power.
To her the sister Muses came,
Proffered their masks, and promised fame;
She chose the tragic—rose
To its imperial woes.
Proffered their masks, and promised fame;
She chose the tragic—rose
To its imperial woes.
What queen unqueened is here? What wife,
Whose long bright years of loving life
Are suddenly darkened? Fate
Has crushed, but left her great.
Whose long bright years of loving life
Are suddenly darkened? Fate
Has crushed, but left her great.
Abandoned for a younger face,
She sees another fill her place,
Be more than she has been—
Most wretched wife and queen!
She sees another fill her place,
Be more than she has been—
Most wretched wife and queen!
O royal sufferer! Patient heart!
Lay down thy burdens and depart;
“Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell.”
They ring her passing-bell.
Lay down thy burdens and depart;
“Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell.”
They ring her passing-bell.
And thine, thy knell shall soon be rung,
Lady, the valor of whose tongue,
That did not urge in vain,
Stung the irresolute Thane
Lady, the valor of whose tongue,
That did not urge in vain,
Stung the irresolute Thane
406
To bloody thoughts and deeds of death,
The evil genius of Macbeth;
But thy strong will must break,
And thy poor heart must ache.
The evil genius of Macbeth;
But thy strong will must break,
And thy poor heart must ache.
Sleeping, she sleeps not; night betrays
The secret that consumes her days.
Behold her where she stands,
And rubs her guilty hands.
The secret that consumes her days.
Behold her where she stands,
And rubs her guilty hands.
From darkness, by the midnight fire,
Withered and weird, in wild attire,
Starts spectral on the scene
The stern, old gipsy queen.
Withered and weird, in wild attire,
Starts spectral on the scene
The stern, old gipsy queen.
She croons her simple cradle song,
She will redress his ancient wrong—
The rightful heir come back
With Murder on his track.
She will redress his ancient wrong—
The rightful heir come back
With Murder on his track.
Commanding, crouching, dangerous, kind,
Confusion in her darkened mind,
The pathos of her years
Compels the soul to tears.
Confusion in her darkened mind,
The pathos of her years
Compels the soul to tears.
Bring laurels! Go, ye tragic Three,
And strip the sacred laurel-tree,
And at her feet lay down
Here, now, a triple crown.
And strip the sacred laurel-tree,
And at her feet lay down
Here, now, a triple crown.
Salve, Regina! Art and Song,
Dismissed by thee, shall miss thee long,
And keep thy memory green,
Our most illustrious Queen.
Dismissed by thee, shall miss thee long,
And keep thy memory green,
Our most illustrious Queen.
| The poems of Richard Henry Stoddard | |