 | The Baroness of New York |  |
17
I.
In the beginning—aye, before
The six-days' labors were well o'er,
Yea, while the world lay incomplete,
Or God had opened quite the door
Of this strange land for strong men's feet,
There lay against the westmost sea,
One wierd-wild land of mystery.
The six-days' labors were well o'er,
Yea, while the world lay incomplete,
Or God had opened quite the door
Of this strange land for strong men's feet,
There lay against the westmost sea,
One wierd-wild land of mystery.
A far, white wall, like fallen moon,
Girt out the world. The forest lay
So deep you scarcely saw the day,
Save in the high held middle noon:
It lay a land of sleep and dreams,
And clouds drew through like shoreless streams
That stretch to where no man may say.
Girt out the world. The forest lay
So deep you scarcely saw the day,
Save in the high held middle noon:
It lay a land of sleep and dreams,
And clouds drew through like shoreless streams
That stretch to where no man may say.
Men reached it only from the sea,
By black-built ships, that seemed to creep
Along the shore suspiciously,
Like unnamed monsters of the deep,
That ever wake, yet seem to sleep.
It was the wierdest land, I ween,
That mortal man has ever seen:
By black-built ships, that seemed to creep
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Like unnamed monsters of the deep,
That ever wake, yet seem to sleep.
It was the wierdest land, I ween,
That mortal man has ever seen:
A dim, dark land of bird and beast,
Black, shaggy beasts with cloven claw;
A land that scarce knew prayer or priest,
Or law of man or Nature's law,
Or aught that good men ever saw;
Where no fixed wall drew sharp dispute
Twixt savage man and silent brute.
Black, shaggy beasts with cloven claw;
A land that scarce knew prayer or priest,
Or law of man or Nature's law,
Or aught that good men ever saw;
Where no fixed wall drew sharp dispute
Twixt savage man and silent brute.
It hath a history most fit
For cunning hand to fashion on;
No chronicler hath mentioned it;
No buccaneer set foot upon.
'Tis of a wild and outlawed Don;
A cruel man, with pirate's gold
That loaded down his deep ship's hold.
For cunning hand to fashion on;
No chronicler hath mentioned it;
No buccaneer set foot upon.
'Tis of a wild and outlawed Don;
A cruel man, with pirate's gold
That loaded down his deep ship's hold.
A deep ship's hold of plundered gold!
The golden cruise, the golden cross,
From many a church of Mexico,
From Panama's mad overthrow,
From many a ransomed city's loss,
From many a foeman staunch and bold,
And many a foeman stark and cold.
The golden cruise, the golden cross,
From many a church of Mexico,
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From many a ransomed city's loss,
From many a foeman staunch and bold,
And many a foeman stark and cold.
He fled with prices on his head;
He found this wild, wierd land. He drew
His ship to shore. His ruthless crew,
Like Romulus, laid hold and wed,
The half-wild woman, that had fled,
And in their bloody forays bore
Red firebrands about the shore.
He found this wild, wierd land. He drew
His ship to shore. His ruthless crew,
Like Romulus, laid hold and wed,
The half-wild woman, that had fled,
And in their bloody forays bore
Red firebrands about the shore.
The red men rose at night. They came,
A firm, unflinching wall of flame;
They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea,
O'er land of sand and level shore,
And howls in far fierce agony.
The red men swept that deep, dark shore
As threshers sweep a threshing-floor.
A firm, unflinching wall of flame;
They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea,
O'er land of sand and level shore,
And howls in far fierce agony.
The red men swept that deep, dark shore
As threshers sweep a threshing-floor.
And yet beside the old Don's door
They left his daughter, as they fled.
They spared her life, because she bore
Their Chieftain's blood.
His gory head
On pikes was borne away. His gold
Was burrowed from the stout ship's hold,
And borne in many a slim canoe,
To where? The grey priest only knew.
They left his daughter, as they fled.
They spared her life, because she bore
Their Chieftain's blood.
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On pikes was borne away. His gold
Was burrowed from the stout ship's hold,
And borne in many a slim canoe,
To where? The grey priest only knew.
Revenge at last came like a tide,
'Twas sweeping, deep and terrible;
The Saxon found the land and came
To take possession in Christ's name.
For every white man that had died
I think a thousand red men fell;
A gentle custom; and the land
Lay lifeless, as some burned-out brand.
'Twas sweeping, deep and terrible;
The Saxon found the land and came
To take possession in Christ's name.
For every white man that had died
I think a thousand red men fell;
A gentle custom; and the land
Lay lifeless, as some burned-out brand.
Steel struck to flint, and fire flew
For days; then all was dark as night.
The Saxon's steel was strong and bright,
The red man's flint was broken quite.
Now plough-shares plough the fragments through,
They throw a thousand flints to light,
And that is all that's left to you.
For days; then all was dark as night.
The Saxon's steel was strong and bright,
The red man's flint was broken quite.
Now plough-shares plough the fragments through,
They throw a thousand flints to light,
And that is all that's left to you.
| The Baroness of New York | |