 | Passion-Flowers |  |
59
FROM NEWPORT TO ROME.
1849.
Ye men and women of the world
Whom purple garments soft enfold,
I've moved among you from my youth,
Decorous, dutiful, and cold.
Whom purple garments soft enfold,
I've moved among you from my youth,
Decorous, dutiful, and cold.
God granted me these sober hues,
This quiet brow, this pensive face,
That inner fires might deeply glow,
Unguessed without the frigid vase.
This quiet brow, this pensive face,
That inner fires might deeply glow,
Unguessed without the frigid vase.
Constrained to learn of you the arts
Which half dishonor, half deceive,
I've felt my burning soul flash out
Against the silken web you weave.
Which half dishonor, half deceive,
I've felt my burning soul flash out
Against the silken web you weave.
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No earnest feeling passes you
Without dilution infinite;
No word with frank abruptness breathed
Must vent itself on ears polite.
Without dilution infinite;
No word with frank abruptness breathed
Must vent itself on ears polite.
In your domain, so brilliant all,
So fitly jewelled, wreathed, and hung,
Vocal with music, faint with sweets
From living flower-censers swung;
So fitly jewelled, wreathed, and hung,
Vocal with music, faint with sweets
From living flower-censers swung;
Thronged by fair women, tireless all
As ever-moving streams of light,
Yielding their wild electric strength
To contact, as their bloom to sight;
As ever-moving streams of light,
Yielding their wild electric strength
To contact, as their bloom to sight;
I wandered, while the flow of sound
Made Reason drunken through the ear,
Dreaming: ‘This is soul-paradise;
The tree of knowledge must be here—
Made Reason drunken through the ear,
Dreaming: ‘This is soul-paradise;
The tree of knowledge must be here—
‘The tree whose fruitage of delight
Imparts the wisdom of the Gods,
Unlike the scanty, seedling growth
That Learning's ploughshare wins from clods.’
Imparts the wisdom of the Gods,
Unlike the scanty, seedling growth
That Learning's ploughshare wins from clods.’
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‘And if that tree be here,’ said one,
Who read my meaning in mine eyes,
‘No serpent can so soothly speak
As tempt these women to be wise.’
Who read my meaning in mine eyes,
‘No serpent can so soothly speak
As tempt these women to be wise.’
A sound of fear came wafted in
While these careered in giddy rout:
None heeded—I alone could hear
The wailing of the world without.
While these careered in giddy rout:
None heeded—I alone could hear
The wailing of the world without.
‘Mid dreadful symphony of death
And hollow echoes from the grave,
It was a brother's cry that swept,
Unweakened, o'er the Atlantic wave.
And hollow echoes from the grave,
It was a brother's cry that swept,
Unweakened, o'er the Atlantic wave.
It breathed so deep, it rose so high,
No other sound seemed there to be;
‘Oh! do you hear that woeful strain?’
I asked of all the company.
No other sound seemed there to be;
‘Oh! do you hear that woeful strain?’
I asked of all the company.
They stared as at a madman struck
Beneath the melancholy moon;
‘We hear the sweetest waltz,’ they said,
‘And not a string is out of tune.’
Beneath the melancholy moon;
‘We hear the sweetest waltz,’ they said,
‘And not a string is out of tune.’
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Then, with one angry leap, I sprang
To where the chief musician stood;
I seized his rod of rule, I pushed
The idol from his shrine of wood.
To where the chief musician stood;
I seized his rod of rule, I pushed
The idol from his shrine of wood.
‘I've sat among you long enough,
Or followed where your music led;
I never marred your pleasure yet;
But ye shall listen now,’ I said:
Or followed where your music led;
I never marred your pleasure yet;
But ye shall listen now,’ I said:
‘I hear the battle-thunder boom,
Cannon to cannon answering loud;
I hear the whizzing shots that fling
Their handful to the stricken crowd.
Cannon to cannon answering loud;
I hear the whizzing shots that fling
Their handful to the stricken crowd.
‘I see the bastions bravely manned,
The patriots gathered in the breach;
I see the bended brows of men
Whom the next deathful sweep must reach;
I feel the breath of agony,
I hear the thick and hurried speech.
The patriots gathered in the breach;
I see the bended brows of men
Whom the next deathful sweep must reach;
I feel the breath of agony,
I hear the thick and hurried speech.
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‘Before those lurid bursts of flame
Your clustering wax-lights flicker pale;
In that condensed and deadly smoke
Your blossoms drop, your perfumes fail.
Your clustering wax-lights flicker pale;
In that condensed and deadly smoke
Your blossoms drop, your perfumes fail.
‘Brave blood is shed, whose generous flow
Quickens the pulses of the river;
He, 'neath his arches, muttering low,
‘It shall be so, but not forever.’
Quickens the pulses of the river;
He, 'neath his arches, muttering low,
‘It shall be so, but not forever.’
‘I see the dome, so calm, so high,
A ghost of Greece, it hangs in air,
A Pallas, in the heart of war
It thrones above Life's coward care.
A ghost of Greece, it hangs in air,
A Pallas, in the heart of war
It thrones above Life's coward care.
‘The walls are stormed, the fort is ta'en,
The city's heart with fainter throb
Receives its death-stroke—all is lost,
And matrons curse and children sob.
The city's heart with fainter throb
Receives its death-stroke—all is lost,
And matrons curse and children sob.
‘Woe when the arm, so stalwart late,
Tenders the sword-hilt to the foe!
Woe when the form that late defied,
Prostrate, invites the captor's blow.
Tenders the sword-hilt to the foe!
Woe when the form that late defied,
Prostrate, invites the captor's blow.
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‘The rich must own the hidden hoard,
The brave are butchered where they stand,
And maidens seek, at altar shrines,
A refuge from the lawless hand.
The brave are butchered where they stand,
And maidens seek, at altar shrines,
A refuge from the lawless hand.
‘Till Death, grown sordid, hunts no more
His flying quarry through the street,
And the grim scaffold, one by one,
Flings bloody morsels for his meat.
His flying quarry through the street,
And the grim scaffold, one by one,
Flings bloody morsels for his meat.
‘Were Death the worst, the patriot's hymn
Would ring triumphant in mine ears;
But pangs more exquisite await
Those who still eat the bread of tears.
Would ring triumphant in mine ears;
But pangs more exquisite await
Those who still eat the bread of tears.
‘Pale faces, prest to prison-bars,
Grow sick, and agonize with life;
And firm lips quiver, when the guard
Thrusts rudely back some shrieking wife.
Grow sick, and agonize with life;
And firm lips quiver, when the guard
Thrusts rudely back some shrieking wife.
‘Those women, gathering on the sward,
I see them, helpful of each other;
The matron soothes the maiden's heart,
The girl supports the trembling mother;
I see them, helpful of each other;
The matron soothes the maiden's heart,
The girl supports the trembling mother;
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‘Sad recognitions, frantic prayers,
Greetings that sobs and spasms smother;
And “Oh my son!” the place resounds,
And “Oh my father! oh my brother!”
Greetings that sobs and spasms smother;
And “Oh my son!” the place resounds,
And “Oh my father! oh my brother!”
‘And souls are wed in nobleness
That ne'er shall mingle human breath;
Love's seed, in holy purpose sown;
Love's hope, in God's and Nature's faith.
That ne'er shall mingle human breath;
Love's seed, in holy purpose sown;
Love's hope, in God's and Nature's faith.
‘A flag hangs in the Invalides
That flecks with shame the stately dome;
“Ta'en from a Roman whom we slew,
Keeping the threshold of his home.”
That flecks with shame the stately dome;
“Ta'en from a Roman whom we slew,
Keeping the threshold of his home.”
‘And ye delight in idle tunes,
And are content to jig and dance,
When e'en the holy Marseillaise
Sounds for the treachery of France?
And are content to jig and dance,
When e'en the holy Marseillaise
Sounds for the treachery of France?
‘And not a voice amongst you here
Calls on the traitor wrath and hate?
And not a wine-cup that ye raise
Is darkened by the victim's fate?
Calls on the traitor wrath and hate?
And not a wine-cup that ye raise
Is darkened by the victim's fate?
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‘Nor one with pious drops bewails
The anguish of the Mother world?’
‘Oh hush! the waltz is gay,’ they said,
And all their gauzy wings unfurled.
The anguish of the Mother world?’
‘Oh hush! the waltz is gay,’ they said,
And all their gauzy wings unfurled.
‘Nay, hear me for a moment more,
Restrain so long your heedless haste;
Hearken how pregnant is the time
Ye tear to shreds and fling to waste.
Restrain so long your heedless haste;
Hearken how pregnant is the time
Ye tear to shreds and fling to waste.
‘Through sluggish centuries of growth
The thoughtless world might vacant wait;
But now the busy hours crowd in,
And Man is come to man's estate.
The thoughtless world might vacant wait;
But now the busy hours crowd in,
And Man is come to man's estate.
‘With fuller power, let each avow
The kinship of his human blood;
With fuller pulse, let every heart
Swell to high pangs of brotherhood.
The kinship of his human blood;
With fuller pulse, let every heart
Swell to high pangs of brotherhood.
‘With fuller light, let women's eyes,
Earnest, beneath the Christ-like brow,
Strike this deep question home to men,
“Thy brothers perish—idlest thou?”
Earnest, beneath the Christ-like brow,
Strike this deep question home to men,
“Thy brothers perish—idlest thou?”
67
‘With warmer breath, let mothers' lips
Whisper the boy whom they caress,—
“Learn from those arms that circle thee
In love, to succor, shelter, bless.”
Whisper the boy whom they caress,—
“Learn from those arms that circle thee
In love, to succor, shelter, bless.”
‘For the brave world is given to us
For all the brave in heart to keep,
Lest wicked hands should sow the thorns
That bleeding generations reap.
For all the brave in heart to keep,
Lest wicked hands should sow the thorns
That bleeding generations reap.
‘Oh world! oh time! oh heart of Christ!
Oh heart, betrayed and sold anew!
Dance on, ye slaves! ay, take your sport,
All times are one to such as you.’
Oh heart, betrayed and sold anew!
Dance on, ye slaves! ay, take your sport,
All times are one to such as you.’
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