 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
THE IDEAL.
INSCRIBED TO MY FRIEND O. H. MARSHALL, OF BUFFALO, N. Y.
“Sweet Phantasy alone is young forever.”—
Schiller.
Schiller.
Vast are thy radiant halls, Imagination!
And through them who loves not, at times, to walk,
While airs are breathed like those at Earth's Creation,
And silvery voices talk.
And through them who loves not, at times, to walk,
While airs are breathed like those at Earth's Creation,
And silvery voices talk.
And it is well that man—awhile retiring
From the dim outward world—in blissful dreams
Walk through those halls, a purer air respiring,
And catch elysian gleams.
From the dim outward world—in blissful dreams
Walk through those halls, a purer air respiring,
And catch elysian gleams.
There, with his sickle idle and rust-eaten,
Sleeps the pale Mower of our mortal joys;
And amber drops of purest nectar sweeten
A cup that never cloys.
Sleeps the pale Mower of our mortal joys;
And amber drops of purest nectar sweeten
A cup that never cloys.
There, with the loved and lost again uniting,
Can we discourse serenely of the past,
Couched upon roses that no worm is blighting,
Or killing northern blast.
Can we discourse serenely of the past,
Couched upon roses that no worm is blighting,
Or killing northern blast.
There will the child we laid in earth, to meet us
In wild delight stretch forth its little arms—
There will the mother, that we mourned for, greet us—
Renewed her youthful charms.
In wild delight stretch forth its little arms—
There will the mother, that we mourned for, greet us—
Renewed her youthful charms.
12
There will the bride who woke our young affection
Blush as if still she heard the marriage bell;
Ah! nevermore, with look of deep dejection,
To falter out farewell!
Blush as if still she heard the marriage bell;
Ah! nevermore, with look of deep dejection,
To falter out farewell!
Is the poor Bard repaid for years of trial,
And vigils that untimely bow the frame—
For tears in secret shed, and self-denial,
By the green wreath of fame?
And vigils that untimely bow the frame—
For tears in secret shed, and self-denial,
By the green wreath of fame?
Is gold a fitting recompense for sorrow
That fixes ever in his breast a dart,
While hopes that bud, to wither on the morrow,
Leave canker in the heart?
That fixes ever in his breast a dart,
While hopes that bud, to wither on the morrow,
Leave canker in the heart?
Oh, no! the grudging world can grant no guerdon
Prized like the sunshine of those happy hours,
When fate permits him to throw down his burden,
And pluck unwithering flowers!
Prized like the sunshine of those happy hours,
When fate permits him to throw down his burden,
And pluck unwithering flowers!
Permits him through the gate of dreams to wander,
And look on scenes that painter never drew,
While in his throbbing, yearning soul grows stronger
Love for the good and true;
And look on scenes that painter never drew,
While in his throbbing, yearning soul grows stronger
Love for the good and true;
Permits him to hold glorious communion,
With mighty spirits who have done with time,
Bound by a league, to never know disunion,
In brotherhood sublim
With mighty spirits who have done with time,
Bound by a league, to never know disunion,
In brotherhood sublim
Back! back for him, the past withdraws its curtain,
And round him throng old sovereign-lords of mind,
Not seen like objects through a haze uncertain—
Each figure well defined.
And round him throng old sovereign-lords of mind,
Not seen like objects through a haze uncertain—
Each figure well defined.
Lo! he beholds some mighty truth enforcing,
Or gracing with rich imagery his theme,
Great Plato walk through fairer groves, discoursing,
Than those of Academe.
Or gracing with rich imagery his theme,
Great Plato walk through fairer groves, discoursing,
Than those of Academe.
13
That Greek arrests his glance who talked with ocean
Until its awful bass was in his tone,
And sweet-voiced Tully skilled to draw emotion
From hearts, inert like stone.
Until its awful bass was in his tone,
And sweet-voiced Tully skilled to draw emotion
From hearts, inert like stone.
Paths, paved with pearl and diamond, he may follow,
Through blooming meadows to a temple grand—
Home of a priesthood who have served Apollo
In every age and land.
Through blooming meadows to a temple grand—
Home of a priesthood who have served Apollo
In every age and land.
Through the stained glass darts tempered light, bestowing
A blush on pictured walls and spangled floors—
And rivers of rich melody are flowing
For ever from its doors.
A blush on pictured walls and spangled floors—
And rivers of rich melody are flowing
For ever from its doors.
The crowning pride of Hellas, blind and hoary,
Before him rears his tall, majestic form,
Surrounded by inheritors of glory,
And breathes a welcome warm.
Before him rears his tall, majestic form,
Surrounded by inheritors of glory,
And breathes a welcome warm.
Tones of the old, Hellenic spirit tremble
On the proud strings of his heroic lyre,
While o'er him charmed divinities assemble
In chariots of fire.
On the proud strings of his heroic lyre,
While o'er him charmed divinities assemble
In chariots of fire.
A crowd of lesser minstrels borrow lustre
From the full splendor of that epic orb,
As snowy clouds that round the day-god cluster,
His blaze in part absorb.
From the full splendor of that epic orb,
As snowy clouds that round the day-god cluster,
His blaze in part absorb.
In pauses of the mighty strain he listens
To Doric reed and Lesbian lute forlorn,
Till in his eye, enlarged with wonder, glistens
A tear of rapture born.
To Doric reed and Lesbian lute forlorn,
Till in his eye, enlarged with wonder, glistens
A tear of rapture born.
The courtly Virgil, model of politeness!
He marks near Flaccus of the rosy face,
While Pindar comes, with eye of eagle brightness,
Fresh from the chariot race.
He marks near Flaccus of the rosy face,
While Pindar comes, with eye of eagle brightness,
Fresh from the chariot race.
14
The naiad watches by her silver fountain—
The dryad in the shade of aged trees,
And, darting through green pines upon the mountain,
The oread he sees.
The dryad in the shade of aged trees,
And, darting through green pines upon the mountain,
The oread he sees.
Milton, divinely beautiful, upraising
His speaking face receives a heavenly glow,
And, grandly stern, the Tuscan downward gazing,
Pierces the depths of woe.
His speaking face receives a heavenly glow,
And, grandly stern, the Tuscan downward gazing,
Pierces the depths of woe.
Calm Shakespeare towers with regal wand controlling
Broad seas of thought, wild passion and romance,
As Dian sways the pulse of ocean rolling
With her benignant glance.
Broad seas of thought, wild passion and romance,
As Dian sways the pulse of ocean rolling
With her benignant glance.
And at his feet a youthful form reclining
Wears the pale front of Bristol's wondrous boy;
His face, so mournful when with hunger pining,
Changed into lark-like joy.
Wears the pale front of Bristol's wondrous boy;
His face, so mournful when with hunger pining,
Changed into lark-like joy.
Apart the lord of Newstead pours the billows
Of his tremendous song upon the gale,
While star-eyed Shelley, propped by golden pillows,
Bids dream-land lift the veil.
Of his tremendous song upon the gale,
While star-eyed Shelley, propped by golden pillows,
Bids dream-land lift the veil.
In the great concert Celtic bards are singing,
Drest in the garb that wizard Merlin wore,
And, wild and high, the Cambrian Harp is ringing
Above the torrent's roar.
Drest in the garb that wizard Merlin wore,
And, wild and high, the Cambrian Harp is ringing
Above the torrent's roar.
The Minnesinger's chant, alive with feeling,
Wafts gently by the notes of breeze and bird,
And in rude lays, that Gothic scalds are pealing,
The trampling surf is heard.
Wafts gently by the notes of breeze and bird,
And in rude lays, that Gothic scalds are pealing,
The trampling surf is heard.
Fair shapes from vine-wreathed balconies are leaning
While sweeps the troubadour his lute below,
And silenced not by ages intervening,
Druidic numbers flow.
While sweeps the troubadour his lute below,
And silenced not by ages intervening,
Druidic numbers flow.
15
Through halls, with hangings like the rainbow braided,
A group of famous women glide along;
The mighty spell that keeps their bloom unfaded,
Is the glad work of song.
A group of famous women glide along;
The mighty spell that keeps their bloom unfaded,
Is the glad work of song.
That Cretan lady, on the beach forsaken
By Athen's lord, is still divinely fair;
No leaflet from her rose of beauty shaken
By woe and black despair.
By Athen's lord, is still divinely fair;
No leaflet from her rose of beauty shaken
By woe and black despair.
Aspasia, with a brow by genius lighted,
Flits by with that immortal child of song
Who buried in the sea, by Phaon slighted,
All memory of wrong.
Flits by with that immortal child of song
Who buried in the sea, by Phaon slighted,
All memory of wrong.
Young Hero, rescued from the caves of ocean,
Walks with her own Leander by her side;
Well-won reward of faith and fond devotion,
Alas! too rudely tried!
Walks with her own Leander by her side;
Well-won reward of faith and fond devotion,
Alas! too rudely tried!
Forgetful of the Roman's mad caresses,
Stalks grandly by old Egypt's wanton queen,
With jewels flashing in her night-black tresses,
Full bust and royal mien.
Stalks grandly by old Egypt's wanton queen,
With jewels flashing in her night-black tresses,
Full bust and royal mien.
With a strange lustre in her dark eye playing,
Prophetic lip, clasped hands, and hair unbound,
In thought Cassandra, back to Phrygia straying,
Beholds her sire uncrown'd:
Prophetic lip, clasped hands, and hair unbound,
In thought Cassandra, back to Phrygia straying,
Beholds her sire uncrown'd:
And near a radiant and majestic creature,
Whose deadly charms the towers of Troy brought low,
Moves, with a winning grace in every feature,
And mouth like Cupid's bow;
Whose deadly charms the towers of Troy brought low,
Moves, with a winning grace in every feature,
And mouth like Cupid's bow;
And higher natures, holy hearts enshrining
The noblest deeds by woman done recall;
Pure as the morn on young creation shining
Before the primal fall,
The noblest deeds by woman done recall;
Pure as the morn on young creation shining
Before the primal fall,
16
Rose Standish fairer than a star new risen,
Sweet, early martyr of our western wild!
Leads by the hand, escaped from death's chill prison,
Powhatan's dusky child;
Sweet, early martyr of our western wild!
Leads by the hand, escaped from death's chill prison,
Powhatan's dusky child;
And giving sign of more than mortal vigor,
Awoke to breathing life from ashes pale,
The Maid of France appears—a martial figure
In knighthood's glittering mail.
Awoke to breathing life from ashes pale,
The Maid of France appears—a martial figure
In knighthood's glittering mail.
Realm of the vast Ideal ! smiling ever
Is thy unclouded arch of iris-dyes,
And on thy hill-tops, that are darkened never,
Eternal sunshine lies.
Is thy unclouded arch of iris-dyes,
And on thy hill-tops, that are darkened never,
Eternal sunshine lies.
The brows of thy inhabitants are wearing
The seal of deep tranquillity and love—
Unknown the falcon that on earth is tearing
With bloody beak the dove.
The seal of deep tranquillity and love—
Unknown the falcon that on earth is tearing
With bloody beak the dove.
Streams, over precious sands in music creeping,
Their silvery arms round magic islets fling,
While holy-day the happy elves are keeping
With Oberon their king.
Their silvery arms round magic islets fling,
While holy-day the happy elves are keeping
With Oberon their king.
Fairer than Paphos, or those orient arbors
Where jewels light, like stars, the leafy glades,
Stretch thy broad parks where Cytherea harbors,
Attended by her maids.
Where jewels light, like stars, the leafy glades,
Stretch thy broad parks where Cytherea harbors,
Attended by her maids.
Grottoes more lovely than Egeria's dwelling
Open their portals of enchanted green,
Filled with the drowsy chime of waters welling,
Purer than Hippocrene.
Open their portals of enchanted green,
Filled with the drowsy chime of waters welling,
Purer than Hippocrene.
Enamored birds are in thy garden singing
Where serpent never wound his glittering coil,
And asphodel and amaranth are springing
From its celestial soil.
Where serpent never wound his glittering coil,
And asphodel and amaranth are springing
From its celestial soil.
17
The toiling scholar is thrice blest who tarries
For a brief season on that haunted shore,
And back to shadowed earth his spirit carries
A might unknown before.
For a brief season on that haunted shore,
And back to shadowed earth his spirit carries
A might unknown before.
In dreams the grand old Masters wandered thither
A wardrobe for the Beautiful to find,
And sunny wreaths, that would not drop and wither,
Her airy brow to bind.
A wardrobe for the Beautiful to find,
And sunny wreaths, that would not drop and wither,
Her airy brow to bind.
Thence came those opal tints for ever playing
On the quaint page where Spencer is revealed,
And Una's charm, in fearful places straying,
White innocence her shield.
On the quaint page where Spencer is revealed,
And Una's charm, in fearful places straying,
White innocence her shield.
Thence came the light and shade that lend such graces
To Chaucer's tale, and rhyme of classic Ben—
And that loved scroll made brilliant by the traces
Of gallant Sydney's pen.
To Chaucer's tale, and rhyme of classic Ben—
And that loved scroll made brilliant by the traces
Of gallant Sydney's pen.
From thence the bard derives a rich requital,
Though crowds that pass him by look dark and cold;
The star-emblazoned deed that gives him title
To realms of price untold.
Though crowds that pass him by look dark and cold;
The star-emblazoned deed that gives him title
To realms of price untold.
There is a flower of glorious apparel
That opens in the hush of lonely night,
And ere the morning lark begins her carol
Is sadly touched with blight;
That opens in the hush of lonely night,
And ere the morning lark begins her carol
Is sadly touched with blight;
The honey of its cup is never tasted
By the swift humming bird—gay sprite of air!
Why, on the solemn darkness, is thus wasted
A loveliness so rare?
By the swift humming bird—gay sprite of air!
Why, on the solemn darkness, is thus wasted
A loveliness so rare?
Type of that flower was Keats, the young and gifted,
Charming with song a cold and thankless world,
While the black clouds of woe above him drifted,
And Hope her banner furled.
Charming with song a cold and thankless world,
While the black clouds of woe above him drifted,
And Hope her banner furled.
18
The light of fame, at last through darkness streaming,
Came falling not upon his living head,
But, like some funeral torch, a fitful gleaming
Threw only on the dead.
Came falling not upon his living head,
But, like some funeral torch, a fitful gleaming
Threw only on the dead.
Not always, while a deathless task achieving,
Did sorrow bring to that high heart eclipse,
Ambrosial drops, though fate his shroud was weaving,
Fell on his fevered lips.
Did sorrow bring to that high heart eclipse,
Ambrosial drops, though fate his shroud was weaving,
Fell on his fevered lips.
His subtle spirit often was translated
From the weak flesh to that still lovely land
Where Art can point to works before created,
Never by mortal hand:—
From the weak flesh to that still lovely land
Where Art can point to works before created,
Never by mortal hand:—
And I would fain recall a vision pleasant,
Seen ere the dappled morn of youth was o'er,
In that romantic realm where every peasant
Is rich in minstrel-lore.
Seen ere the dappled morn of youth was o'er,
In that romantic realm where every peasant
Is rich in minstrel-lore.
In the deep midnight Fancy broke the tether
That makes us bondsmen in our waking hours,
And ranged the land of dark, blue lake and heather,
Culling poetic flowers.
That makes us bondsmen in our waking hours,
And ranged the land of dark, blue lake and heather,
Culling poetic flowers.
Bewitching moonlight wrapped the hoary mountains,
The rugged birthright of the hardy Gael,
And streams, that glinted forth from sparkling fountains,
Met roaring in the vale.
The rugged birthright of the hardy Gael,
And streams, that glinted forth from sparkling fountains,
Met roaring in the vale.
A sky-roofed glen within its heart received me,
The floor and sides in grassy velvet drest,
And a wild sorrow that too long hath grieved me,
Awhile was lulled to rest.
The floor and sides in grassy velvet drest,
And a wild sorrow that too long hath grieved me,
Awhile was lulled to rest.
To look on famous bards I felt a longing,
Nursed in the home of eagles and of storms,
And suddenly there was a glorious thronging
Of proud, and plaided forms.
Nursed in the home of eagles and of storms,
And suddenly there was a glorious thronging
Of proud, and plaided forms.
19
Unearthly splendor rested on their faces,
As moonlight silvers marble with its glow,
That fair to vision made the many traces
Of want, neglect, and woe.
As moonlight silvers marble with its glow,
That fair to vision made the many traces
Of want, neglect, and woe.
Awful of mien, his long white hair outstreaming,
Bearing an antique harp of massy frame,
While misty light around his head was beaming,
Majestic Ossian came.
Bearing an antique harp of massy frame,
While misty light around his head was beaming,
Majestic Ossian came.
I thought of those proud words in memory cherished
By all who drink at Song's old, haunted springs,
“My voice will not be silent when have perished
Temora's haughty kings.”
By all who drink at Song's old, haunted springs,
“My voice will not be silent when have perished
Temora's haughty kings.”
The mighty Painter of the middle ages
Towered, staff in hand, above the tuneful throng;
Immortal weaver of enchanted pages—
The Wouvermans of song!
Towered, staff in hand, above the tuneful throng;
Immortal weaver of enchanted pages—
The Wouvermans of song!
Far, in the distance, clustered bright creations
Evoked from darkness by his spell of might
That chased the gloom from graves of men and nations
With its victorious light,
Evoked from darkness by his spell of might
That chased the gloom from graves of men and nations
With its victorious light,
To right and left the proud assembly parting
Gave place to Burns, in “hodden gray” attired;
His large, black eye, electric flashes darting,
Told of a soul inspired:—
Gave place to Burns, in “hodden gray” attired;
His large, black eye, electric flashes darting,
Told of a soul inspired:—
And he was there who sang in life's glad morning
Of Hope, to cheer both hall and cottage hearth,
With a rapt look, as if “Lochiel's Warning”
Was struggling into birth.
Of Hope, to cheer both hall and cottage hearth,
With a rapt look, as if “Lochiel's Warning”
Was struggling into birth.
Old Allan Ramsay, blythe of mood and pleasant,
Attuned his trembling reed, and woke a lay
That Pan would have provoked, had he been present,
To throw his pipe away.
Attuned his trembling reed, and woke a lay
That Pan would have provoked, had he been present,
To throw his pipe away.
20
Mild, musing Thomson wore a mantle splendid,
And on its ground of wintry white were seen
Autumnal gold, and summer crimson blended
With stripes of vernal green:
And on its ground of wintry white were seen
Autumnal gold, and summer crimson blended
With stripes of vernal green:
And he who wrote “Kilmeny,” as if listening
The silver bells of fairy-land to hear,
Stood, with the night-dew on his tartan glistening,
The “Gentle Shepherd” near.
The silver bells of fairy-land to hear,
Stood, with the night-dew on his tartan glistening,
The “Gentle Shepherd” near.
One I beheld whose bay will never wither,
Though bitterly his cup was drugged with ill,
The bard who sang of “Jessie” and “Balquither,”
The mournful Tannahill!
Though bitterly his cup was drugged with ill,
The bard who sang of “Jessie” and “Balquither,”
The mournful Tannahill!
Nigh Ferguson, all chapleted with willow,
Towered Cunningham, in mould gigantic cast,
With harp that mocked the roll of ocean's billow,
And creak of bending mast.
Towered Cunningham, in mould gigantic cast,
With harp that mocked the roll of ocean's billow,
And creak of bending mast.
Young Bruce I saw, who pined away uncherished,
Though hallowed, aye, his muse Lochleven made,
And gifted Leyden who untimely perished,
A pale, and piping shade!
Though hallowed, aye, his muse Lochleven made,
And gifted Leyden who untimely perished,
A pale, and piping shade!
I saw impassioned Pollock upward gazing,
The glow of deep devotion on his cheek,
As if he prayed the stars, above him blazing,
Of Heaven's high joy to speak.
The glow of deep devotion on his cheek,
As if he prayed the stars, above him blazing,
Of Heaven's high joy to speak.
Logan, whose “Cuckoo” will sing on forever,
For a brief moment, my attention caught;
And Home, whose tragic wreath will mildew never,
Folded his arms in thought.
For a brief moment, my attention caught;
And Home, whose tragic wreath will mildew never,
Folded his arms in thought.
Near a famed “Minstrel,” fond of Spencer's measure,
Hawthornden's classic poet took his stand,
And the sweet lute, that cheered his hours of leisure,
Flashed, gem-like, in his hand:—
Hawthornden's classic poet took his stand,
And the sweet lute, that cheered his hours of leisure,
Flashed, gem-like, in his hand:—
21
And Pringle, who had heard the lion waking
Wild Echo, in the desert, with his roar,
On the worn garb that veiled his bosom aching
The dust of travel bore:—
Wild Echo, in the desert, with his roar,
On the worn garb that veiled his bosom aching
The dust of travel bore:—
Dark Motherwell, a weird and wild magician!
Leaned with a lowering aspect on his lyre,
While images of some old Norse tradition
Thronged on his soul of fire.
Leaned with a lowering aspect on his lyre,
While images of some old Norse tradition
Thronged on his soul of fire.
And pious Graham, whose chaste muse selected
The holy “Sabbath” for its quiet theme,
And with the sinless birds his name connected,
Was present in my dream.
The holy “Sabbath” for its quiet theme,
And with the sinless birds his name connected,
Was present in my dream.
Awe to the scene dim, rearward shapes were giving,
Wraiths of a band, without a funeral stone,
Whose songs, like echoes in the glens, were living,
Although their names unknown.
Wraiths of a band, without a funeral stone,
Whose songs, like echoes in the glens, were living,
Although their names unknown.
Forgotten minstrels, who had bravely trodden
Red battle-fields, in old baronial times,
Breathing out woe, when came the day of Flodden,
In rude but touching rhymes:—
Red battle-fields, in old baronial times,
Breathing out woe, when came the day of Flodden,
In rude but touching rhymes:—
Lads that, in keeping tryst beneath the cover
Of flowering thorn with snooded maiden, found
Vent for the fluttering transport of the lover
In words of tuneful sound:—
Of flowering thorn with snooded maiden, found
Vent for the fluttering transport of the lover
In words of tuneful sound:—
Shepherds, who caught rare gleams of inspiration
While couched their flocks around them on the hill—
Children of toil-ennobling lowly station,
Whose tongues would not be still!
While couched their flocks around them on the hill—
Children of toil-ennobling lowly station,
Whose tongues would not be still!
At length an airy whisper, as of warning,
That ran from front to shadowed rear, I heard,
And voiceful pine-boughs, in the breath of morning,
Like martial plumage stirred;
That ran from front to shadowed rear, I heard,
And voiceful pine-boughs, in the breath of morning,
Like martial plumage stirred;
22
Then wild Æolian melodies diverted,
For a brief space, my wondering regards;—
I looked again—the valley was deserted—
Gone Albyn's plaided bards.
For a brief space, my wondering regards;—
I looked again—the valley was deserted—
Gone Albyn's plaided bards.
Shooting across the bounds of time and distance,
Can Fancy thus pursue her viewless track—
Cheering the gloom of every day existence,
Bringing rich treasures back.
Can Fancy thus pursue her viewless track—
Cheering the gloom of every day existence,
Bringing rich treasures back.
Thus aliment is furnished that gives vigor
To the rapt student in his chamber lone,
Or sculptor bidding some majestic figure
Leap into life from stone.
To the rapt student in his chamber lone,
Or sculptor bidding some majestic figure
Leap into life from stone.
And shifting, gorgeous tints are thus transmitted
That on the canvass of the painter blaze,
And Eloquence, to blast corruption, fitted
With one indignant gaze.
That on the canvass of the painter blaze,
And Eloquence, to blast corruption, fitted
With one indignant gaze.
Thus from the poet's heart is banished sadness,
And golden radiance on his spirit flung—
His teeming brain possessed of that “fine madness,”
Of which old Drayton sung.
And golden radiance on his spirit flung—
His teeming brain possessed of that “fine madness,”
Of which old Drayton sung.
If we were chained forever to the Real,
God's benison would be indeed withdrawn;
Without rich glimpses of the bright Ideal,
In vain would morning dawn.
God's benison would be indeed withdrawn;
Without rich glimpses of the bright Ideal,
In vain would morning dawn.
Upward, on pinions of sublime devotion,
The soul would cleave its native sky no more,
But loathsome grow, a pool devoid of motion,
Foul to its weedy floor.
The soul would cleave its native sky no more,
But loathsome grow, a pool devoid of motion,
Foul to its weedy floor.
Perish the thought! that in our bosoms never
Should wake those airy raptures that were ours
Ere fled the freshness of our youth forever—
When Joy was crowned with flowers;
Should wake those airy raptures that were ours
Ere fled the freshness of our youth forever—
When Joy was crowned with flowers;
23
Perish the thought that life in its transitions,
Should cease at last to look this earth beyond—
Ringing the funeral knell of glorious visions
That on our childhood dawned!
Should cease at last to look this earth beyond—
Ringing the funeral knell of glorious visions
That on our childhood dawned!
Our grosser nature ever strives to win us
From worship of the beautiful and bright,
And deaf are many to the voice within us,
That whispers,—“Seek the light!”
From worship of the beautiful and bright,
And deaf are many to the voice within us,
That whispers,—“Seek the light!”
Not they alone work faithfully who labor
On the dull, dusty thoroughfare of life;
The clerkly pen can vanquish, when the sabre
Is useless in the strife.
On the dull, dusty thoroughfare of life;
The clerkly pen can vanquish, when the sabre
Is useless in the strife.
In cloistered gloom the quiet man of letters
Launching his thoughts, like arrows from the bow,
Oft strikes at Treason, and his base abettors,
Bringing their grandeur low.
Launching his thoughts, like arrows from the bow,
Oft strikes at Treason, and his base abettors,
Bringing their grandeur low.
Armed with a scroll the birds of evil omen
That curse a country he can scare away,
Or, in the wake of error, marshal foemen
Impatient for the fray.
That curse a country he can scare away,
Or, in the wake of error, marshal foemen
Impatient for the fray.
Scorn not the sons of Song! nor deem them only
Poor, worthless weeds upon the shore of time;
Although they move in walks retired and lonely
They have their tasks sublime.
Poor, worthless weeds upon the shore of time;
Although they move in walks retired and lonely
They have their tasks sublime.
When tyrants tread the hill-top and the valley,
Calling the birth-right of the brave their own,
Around the tomb of Liberty they rally,
And roll away the stone.
Calling the birth-right of the brave their own,
Around the tomb of Liberty they rally,
And roll away the stone.
Or roused by some dark peril they have written,
Words that awe Guilt behind his guarded wall,
Or, by the lightning of their numbers smitten,
Beheld the bigot fall.
Words that awe Guilt behind his guarded wall,
Or, by the lightning of their numbers smitten,
Beheld the bigot fall.
24
Though fierce, uncurbed emotions running riot,
Hiss like Medusa's vipers in the breast,
The witchcraft of harmonic sound can quiet
The turmoil into rest.
Hiss like Medusa's vipers in the breast,
The witchcraft of harmonic sound can quiet
The turmoil into rest.
Who through the chieftain's castle hall is stealing
With the light foot-fall of some beast of prey,
While vengeance hushes every softer feeling,
Nerving his arm to slay?
With the light foot-fall of some beast of prey,
While vengeance hushes every softer feeling,
Nerving his arm to slay?
Where is his home?—to flame its roof was given,
And heavy clouds above the ruin lower,
While the dread foe, by whom his soul was riven,
Unwarned is in his power.
And heavy clouds above the ruin lower,
While the dread foe, by whom his soul was riven,
Unwarned is in his power.
Where are his kinsmen?—ask the fox and raven
That feed upon their corpses, gashed and red;
And will he now turn back a trembling craven,
What, what arrests his tread?
That feed upon their corpses, gashed and red;
And will he now turn back a trembling craven,
What, what arrests his tread?
Young Annot Lyle, her Highland clairshach waking,
Trills an old ballad to remembrance dear—
And dagger-hilt his rugged hand forsaking
Brushes away the tear.
Trills an old ballad to remembrance dear—
And dagger-hilt his rugged hand forsaking
Brushes away the tear.
Thus can a strain of home, with power disarming,
Cause feudal Hate to lay his weapon down,
To softness change, (the tiger-passions charming,)
His black and baleful frown.
Cause feudal Hate to lay his weapon down,
To softness change, (the tiger-passions charming,)
His black and baleful frown.
Lo! the proud Norman and his hots are flying,
While in pursuit, with fierce triumphant cheers
That drown the groans of horse and rider dying,
Press on the Saxon spears.
While in pursuit, with fierce triumphant cheers
That drown the groans of horse and rider dying,
Press on the Saxon spears.
What stays their flight?—the song of Rolla rising
In angry swell above the dreadful roar—
Again they charge!—the bolts of death despising,
And Harold's reign is o'er.
In angry swell above the dreadful roar—
Again they charge!—the bolts of death despising,
And Harold's reign is o'er.
25
Dread power of Song! whose voice can thus awaken
Notes that consign an empire to the grave;
Or when recoils a host, by panic shaken,
From rout the valiant save.
Notes that consign an empire to the grave;
Or when recoils a host, by panic shaken,
From rout the valiant save.
The fearful mantle that the seer is wearing
Derives from thee its tints of living fire—
And higher mounts Philosophy when sharing
The wealth of thy attire;
Derives from thee its tints of living fire—
And higher mounts Philosophy when sharing
The wealth of thy attire;
And, in the distance, to thy vision brightly
Gleam happy homes beyond this land of graves,
As airy domes and towers, at sunset, lightly
Rise from Sicilian waves.
Gleam happy homes beyond this land of graves,
As airy domes and towers, at sunset, lightly
Rise from Sicilian waves.
There, luminous with effluence from Heaven,
The lost are found—the dead again descried;
Their ransomed natures, freed from earthly leaven,
Their tears forever dried.
The lost are found—the dead again descried;
Their ransomed natures, freed from earthly leaven,
Their tears forever dried.
When History, her task but ill achieving,
Fails some far epoch faintly to illume,
The Muse, her thread like Ariadne weaving,
Conducts us through the gloom.
Fails some far epoch faintly to illume,
The Muse, her thread like Ariadne weaving,
Conducts us through the gloom.
She fronts the morn—and on the purple ridges
The virgin-future lifts her veil of snow—
Looks westward, and an arch of splendor bridges
The gulf of “Long-Ago.”
The virgin-future lifts her veil of snow—
Looks westward, and an arch of splendor bridges
The gulf of “Long-Ago.”
She speaks—and lo! Italian sunlight flashes
Over the dark expanse of northern skies;
Death hears her thrilling cry—and cold, gray ashes
Take mortal shape and rise.
Over the dark expanse of northern skies;
Death hears her thrilling cry—and cold, gray ashes
Take mortal shape and rise.
When factions vex a state, and new abuses
Bring to her drooping banner-fold disgrace,
And mind, forgetful of its nobler uses,
Grows sensual and base—
Bring to her drooping banner-fold disgrace,
And mind, forgetful of its nobler uses,
Grows sensual and base—
26
When “the gray fathers” of a nation falter,
Muffling their faces for the funeral knell—
A lightning-flash from her poetic altar
The darkness can dispel.
Muffling their faces for the funeral knell—
A lightning-flash from her poetic altar
The darkness can dispel.
Orion, as an oracle informs us,
In the sun's pathway may regain his sight,
And in the track of song that cheers and warms us,
We bid farewell to night!
In the sun's pathway may regain his sight,
And in the track of song that cheers and warms us,
We bid farewell to night!
Then honored be the Bard! a heavenly mansion
Alone could be the birth-place of an Art
That gives to deathless intellect expansion,
And purifies the heart.
Alone could be the birth-place of an Art
That gives to deathless intellect expansion,
And purifies the heart.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |