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 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
97
THE DEAD CENTURY
I.
Lo! we comeBearing the Century, cold and dumb!
Folded above the mighty breast
Lie the hands that have earned their rest;
Hushed are the grandly speaking lips;
Closed are the eyes in drear eclipse;
And the sculptured limbs are deathly still,
Responding not to the eager will,
As we come
Bearing the Century, cold and dumb!
II.
Lo! we waitKnocking here at the sepulchre's gate!
Souls of the ages passed away,
A mightier joins your ranks to-day;
Open your doors and give him room,
Buried Centuries, in your tomb!
For calmly under this heavy pall
Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all,
While we wait
At the sepulchre's awful gate!
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III.
Yet—pause here,Bending low o'er the narrow bier!
Pause ye awhile and let your thought
Compass the work that he hath wrought;
Look on his brow so scarred and worn;
Think of the weight his hands have borne;
Think of the fetters he hath broken,
Of the mighty words his lips have spoken
Who lies here
Dead and cold on a narrow bier!
IV.
Ere he goesSilent and calm to his grand repose—
While the Centuries in their tomb
Crowd together to give him room,
Let us think of the wondrous deeds
Answering still to the world's great needs,
Answering still to the world's wild prayer,
He hath been first to do and dare!
Ah! he goes
Crowned with bays to his last repose.
V.
When the earthSang for joy to hail his birth,
Over the hill-tops, faint and far,
Glimmered the light of Freedom's star.
Only a poor, pale torch it seemed—
Dimly from out the clouds it gleamed—
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Like a flame by fierce winds rudely tossed.
Scarce could Earth
Catch one ray when she hailed his birth!
VI.
But erelongHis young voice, like a clarion strong,
Rang through the wilderness far and free,
Prophet and herald of good to be!
Then with a shout the stalwart men
Answered proudly from mount and glen,
Till in the brave, new, western world
Freedom's banners were wide unfurled!
And ere long
The Century's voice, like a clarion strong,
VII.
Cried, “O Earth,Pæans sing for a Nation's birth!
Shout hosannas, ye golden stars,
Peering through yonder cloudy bars!
Burn, O Sun, with a clearer beam!
Shine, O Moon, with a softer gleam!
Join, ye winds, in the choral strain!
Swell, rolling seas, the glad refrain,
While the Earth
Pæans sings for a Nation's birth!”
VIII.
Ah! he saw—This young prophet, with solemn awe—
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Strivings without and foes within,
Fruitless prayings and long suspense,
And toil that bore no recompense—
After peril and blood and tears,
Honor and Peace should crown the years!
This he saw
While his heart thrilled with solemn awe.
IX.
His clear eyes,Gazing forward in glad surprise,
Saw how our land at last should be
Truly the home of the brave and free!
Saw from the old world's crowded streets,
Pestilent cities, and close retreats,
Forms gaunt and pallid with famine sore
Flee in hot haste to our happy shore,
Their sad eyes
Widening ever in new surprise.
X.
From all landsThronging they come in eager bands;
Each with the tongue his mother spoke;
Each with the songs her voice awoke;
Each with his dominant hopes and needs,
Alien habits and varying creeds.
Bringing strange fictions and fancies they came,
Calling old truths by a different name,
When the lands
Sent their sons hither in thronging bands.
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XI.
But the Seer—This dead Century lying here—
Rising out of this chaos, saw
Peace and Order and Love and Law!
Saw by what subtle alchemy
Basest of metals at length should be
Transmuted into the shining gold,
Meet for a king to have and hold.
Ah! great Seer!
This pale Century lying here!
XII.
So he taughtHonest freedom of speech and thought;
Taught that Truth is the grandest thing
Painter can paint, or poet sing;
Taught that under the meanest guise
It marches to deeds of high emprise;
Treading the paths the prophets trod
Up to the very mount of God!
Truth, he taught,
Claims full freedom of speech and thought.
XIII.
Bearing longHeavy burdens of hate and wrong,
Still has the arm of the Century been
Waging war against crime and sin.
Still has he plead humanity's cause;
Still has he prayed for equal laws;
102
Is one in despite of hue or place,
Even though long
It has wrestled with hate and wrong.
XIV.
And at length—A giant arising in his strength—
The fetters of serf and slave he broke,
Smiting them off by a single stroke!
Over the Muscovite's waste of snows,
Up from the fields where the cotton grows,
Clearly the shout of deliverance rang,
When chattel and serf to manhood sprang,
As at length
The giant rose up in resistless strength.
XV.
Far apart—Each alone like a lonely heart—
Sat the Nations, until his hand
Wove about them a wondrous band;
Wrought about them a mighty chain
Binding the mountains to the main!
Distance and time rose dark between
Islands and continents still unseen,
While apart
None felt the throb of another's heart.
XVI.
But to-dayTime and space hath he swept away!
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By ties of brotherhood closer knit;
Whispers float o'er the rolling deep;
Voices echo from steep to steep;
Nations speak, and the quick replies
Fill the earth and the vaulted skies;
For to-day
Time and distance are swept away.
XVII.
If strange thrillsQuicken Rome on her seven hills;
If afar on her sultry throne
India wails and makes her moan;
If the eagles of haughty France
Fall as the Prussian hosts advance,
All the continents, all the lands,
Feel the shock through their claspèd hands.
And quick thrills
Stir the remotest vales and hills.
XVIII.
Yet these eyes,Dark on whose lids Death's shadow lies,
Let their far-reaching vision rest
Not alone on the mountain's crest;
Nor did these feet with stately tread
Follow alone where the Nations led;
Nor these pale hands, so weary-worn,
Minister but where States were born!—
These clear eyes,
Soft on whose lips Death's slumber lies,
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XIX.
Turned their gaze,Earnest and pitiful, on the ways
Where the poor, burdened sons of toil
Earned their bread amid dust and moil.
Saw the dim attics where, day by day,
Women were stitching their lives away,
Bending low o'er the slender steel
Till heart and brain began to reel,
And their days
Stretched on and on in a dreary maze.
XX.
Then he spoke;Lo! at once into being woke
Muscles of iron, arms of steel,
Nerves that never a thrill could feel!
Wheels and pulleys and whirling bands
Did the work of the weary hands,
And tireless feet moved to and fro
Where the aching limbs were wont to go,
When he spoke
And all his sprites into being woke.
XXI.
Do you sayHe was no saint who has passed away?
Saint or sinner, he did brave deeds
Answering still to humanity's needs!
Songs he hath sung that shall live for aye;
Words he hath uttered that ne'er shall die;
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Sang for joy to hail his birth,
Even though you say
He was no saint, whom we sing to-day.
XXII.
Lo! we waitKnocking here at the sepulchre's gate!
Souls of the Ages passed away,
A mightier joins your ranks to-day;
Open your doors, ye royal dead,
And welcome give to this crownèd head!
For calmly under this sable pall
Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all,
While we wait
At the sepulchre's awful gate!
XXIII.
Give him roomProudly, Centuries! in your tomb.
Now that his weary work is done,
Honor and rest he well hath won.
Let him who is first among you pay
Homage to him who comes this day,
Bidding him pass to his destined place,
Noblest of all his noble race!
Make ye room
For the kingly dead in the silent tomb!
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |