 | The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell |  |
179
SONGS OF OUR HOLY WAR.
O dear Lord, we know what death is worth:
Thou diedst in woe and pain upon the cross:
Out of thy death man's freedom had its birth,
And for his gain Thou gavest all thy loss.
Thou diedst in woe and pain upon the cross:
Out of thy death man's freedom had its birth,
And for his gain Thou gavest all thy loss.
181
HYMN FOR THE HOST IN WAR.
With banners fluttering forth on high,
And music's stirring breath,
Lord God! we stand beneath Thine eye,
Arrayed for work of death.
And music's stirring breath,
Lord God! we stand beneath Thine eye,
Arrayed for work of death.
When we our stormy battle wage,
Thy Spirit be our zeal!
In conquering, teach us not man's rage,
But Thine own ruth to feel.
Thy Spirit be our zeal!
In conquering, teach us not man's rage,
But Thine own ruth to feel.
Thy Christ led forth no host to fight,
But He disbanded none:
And our true life, and our best right,
By death alone He won.
But He disbanded none:
And our true life, and our best right,
By death alone He won.
Dear Lord! if we our lives must give,
And give our share of earth,
To save, for those that after live,
What makes our land's true worth,
And give our share of earth,
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What makes our land's true worth,
Lead Thou our march to war's worst lot,
As to a peace-time feast;
Grant, only, that our souls be not
Without Christ's Life released!
As to a peace-time feast;
Grant, only, that our souls be not
Without Christ's Life released!
O God of heaven's most glorious host!
To Thee this hymn we raise;
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One God, one voice of praise!
To Thee this hymn we raise;
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One God, one voice of praise!
July 15, 1861.
183
NEW ENGLAND ARMING.
I.
Along the soil whereon we tread,Our fathers' prints are hollow:
The grass is taller where they bled;
We will not fear to follow:
We have not less to love than they;
Our hearts are not the colder:
Nor shall our sons, of younger day,
With shame recall the older.
II.
We bear upon our muster-rollSuch names as live in story;
And many more, that on that scroll
Shall win their share in glory.
There were plain name sat Bunker Hill,
And modest answers met them:
Now, proudly known, we call them still:
Can they that wear, forget them?
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III.
Our home, our own old home, is dearBy ties we cannot number:
The spoiler shall not trample here,
Or death shall be his slumber.
But ye that taught her soil to bloom,
And with fond toil have cherished,
Her flowers shall wave above your tomb
If for her sake ye perished.
IV.
Here first arose the trembling cryOf freedom, feebly spoken:
Here last her lofty tones shall die
When her proud heart is broken.
At Concord, and at Lexington,
Our fathers stood for justice:
The fight was lost, the cause was won;
In their own God our trust is.
V.
At every hearth some cherished formA lonely watch is keeping:
Our maidens see the rushing storm,
And gentle eyes are weeping.
185
That those loved lips are calling;
And never shall the tears of shame
Fall where those tears are falling.
VI.
A secret prayer is rising thereIn timid accents given:
Our battle-cry shall fill the air
And echo high in heaven.
Together we will fight and fall,
Or we will live together:
One heaven shall bend above us all
In storm or sunny weather.
1839: retouched, 1861.
186
THE MEN OF THE CUMBERLAND.
[This ship went down on the 9th of March, under Lieutenant George M. Morris, with her flag flying, and her guns firing (while the water was closing over them) at the iron monster “Virginia,” which had cut two yawning holes in her side. The chaplain and one hundred and twenty of the crew are said to have sunk in her.]
Cheer! cheer! for our noble Yankee tars,
That fought the ship Cumberland!
And bare the head for their maims and scars,
And their dead that lie off the strand!
That fought the ship Cumberland!
And bare the head for their maims and scars,
And their dead that lie off the strand!
Who whines of the ghastly gash and wound,
Or the horrible deaths of war?
Where, where should a brave man's death be found?
And what is a true heart for?
Or the horrible deaths of war?
Where, where should a brave man's death be found?
And what is a true heart for?
Thank God for these men! Ah! they knew when
Was the time for true hearts to die!
How their flag sank, apeak, will flush the brave cheek
While this earth shall hang in the sky!
187
How their flag sank, apeak, will flush the brave cheek
While this earth shall hang in the sky!
In the bubbling waves they fired their last,
Where sputtered the burning wad:
And fast at their post, as their guns were fast,
Went a hundred and more before God.
Where sputtered the burning wad:
And fast at their post, as their guns were fast,
Went a hundred and more before God.
Not a man of all but had stood to be shot,
(So the flag might fly,) or to drown;
The sea saved some, for it came to their lot,
And some with their ship went down.
(So the flag might fly,) or to drown;
The sea saved some, for it came to their lot,
And some with their ship went down.
Then cheer for these men! they want not gold;
But give them their ship once more,
And the flag that yet hangs in wet and cold
By their dead at that faithless shore.
But give them their ship once more,
And the flag that yet hangs in wet and cold
By their dead at that faithless shore.
Our sunken ship we'll yet weigh up,
And we'll raise our deep-drowned brave,
If we drain those Roads till a baby's cup
May puddle their last shoal wave.
And we'll raise our deep-drowned brave,
If we drain those Roads till a baby's cup
May puddle their last shoal wave.
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And we'll tell in tale, and sing in song,
How the Cumberland was fought
By men who knew that all else was wrong
But to die when a sailor ought.
How the Cumberland was fought
By men who knew that all else was wrong
But to die when a sailor ought.
March 20, 1862.
189
NEW ORLEANS WON BACK.
A LAY FOR OUR SAILORS.
Catch—Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
There lay the town that our guns looked down,
With its streets all dark and surly.
Up in the morning early!
There lay the town that our guns looked down,
With its streets all dark and surly.
God made three youths to walk unscathed
In the furnace seven times hot;
And when smoky flames our squadron bathed,
Amid horrors of shell and shot,
Then, too, it was God that brought them through
That death-crowded thoroughfare:
So now, at six bells, the church pennons flew,
And the crews went all to prayer.
Thank God! Thank God! our men won the fight,
Against forts, and fleet, and flame:
Thank God! they have given our flag its right
In a town that brought it shame.
In the furnace seven times hot;
And when smoky flames our squadron bathed,
Amid horrors of shell and shot,
Then, too, it was God that brought them through
That death-crowded thoroughfare:
So now, at six bells, the church pennons flew,
And the crews went all to prayer.
Thank God! Thank God! our men won the fight,
Against forts, and fleet, and flame:
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In a town that brought it shame.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Our flag hung there, in the fresh, still air,
With smoke floating soft and curly.
Up in the morning early!
Our flag hung there, in the fresh, still air,
With smoke floating soft and curly.
Ten days for the deep ships at the bar;
Six days for the mortar fleet,
That battered the great forts from afar;
And then, to that deadly street!
A flash! Our strong ships snapped the boom,
To the fire-rafts and the forts,
To crush and crash, and flash and gloom,
And iron beaks fumbling their ports.
From the dark came the raft, in flame and smoke;
In the dark came the iron beak;
But our sailors' hearts were stouter than oak,
And the false foe's iron weak.
Six days for the mortar fleet,
That battered the great forts from afar;
And then, to that deadly street!
A flash! Our strong ships snapped the boom,
To the fire-rafts and the forts,
To crush and crash, and flash and gloom,
And iron beaks fumbling their ports.
From the dark came the raft, in flame and smoke;
In the dark came the iron beak;
But our sailors' hearts were stouter than oak,
And the false foe's iron weak.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Before they knew, they had burst safe through,
And left the forts, grim and burly.
Up in the morning early!
191
And left the forts, grim and burly.
Though it be brute's work, not man's, to tear
Live limbs like slivered wood;
Yet, to dare, and to stand, and to take death for share,
Are as much as the angels could.
Our men towed the blazing rafts ashore;
They battered the great rams down;
Scarce a wreck floated where was a fleet before,
When our ships came up to the town.
There were miles of batteries yet to be dared,
But they quenched these all, as in play;
Then, with their yards squared, and their guns' mouths bared,
They held the great town at bay.
Live limbs like slivered wood;
Yet, to dare, and to stand, and to take death for share,
Are as much as the angels could.
Our men towed the blazing rafts ashore;
They battered the great rams down;
Scarce a wreck floated where was a fleet before,
When our ships came up to the town.
There were miles of batteries yet to be dared,
But they quenched these all, as in play;
Then, with their yards squared, and their guns' mouths bared,
They held the great town at bay.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
Our stout ships came through shell, shot, and flame,
But the town will not always be surly;
Up in the morning early!
Our stout ships came through shell, shot, and flame,
But the town will not always be surly;
192
For this Crescent City takes to its breast
The Father of Waters' tide;
And here shall the wealth of our world, in the West,
Meet wealth of the world beside:
Here the date-palm and the olive find
A near and equal sun;
And a hundred broad, deep rivers wind
To the summer-sea in one:
Hear the Fall steals all old Winter's ice,
And the Spring steals all his snow;
While he but smiles at their artifice,
And lets his own nature go.
The Father of Waters' tide;
And here shall the wealth of our world, in the West,
Meet wealth of the world beside:
Here the date-palm and the olive find
A near and equal sun;
And a hundred broad, deep rivers wind
To the summer-sea in one:
Hear the Fall steals all old Winter's ice,
And the Spring steals all his snow;
While he but smiles at their artifice,
And lets his own nature go.
Oh, up in the morning, up in the morning,
Up in the morning early!
May that flag float here till the earth's last year,
With the lake mists, fair and pearly.
Up in the morning early!
May that flag float here till the earth's last year,
With the lake mists, fair and pearly.
Duanesburgh, May 27, 1862.
193
A CALL OF TRUE MEN.
Up to battle! Up to battle!
All we love is saved or lost!
Workshop's hum and wayside's tattle,
Off! This thing the life may cost.
Come, for your country! For all dear things, come!
Come to the roll of the rallying drum!
All we love is saved or lost!
Workshop's hum and wayside's tattle,
Off! This thing the life may cost.
Come, for your country! For all dear things, come!
Come to the roll of the rallying drum!
You have seen the spring-swollen river
Hurling torrent, ice and wreck:
You have felt the strong pier quiver
Like a tempest-shaken deck:—
Many a stout heart, quick hand, and eye,
Broke the water's mad strength, and it went by.
Hurling torrent, ice and wreck:
You have felt the strong pier quiver
Like a tempest-shaken deck:—
Many a stout heart, quick hand, and eye,
Broke the water's mad strength, and it went by.
Look on this mad, threatening torrent,
Tumbling on, with blood and death!
Will we see our bulwarks war-rent?
Never! Snatch a stronger breath:
Here is good man's work! Break through, and through!
What matters hardship, or danger, to you?
Tumbling on, with blood and death!
Will we see our bulwarks war-rent?
Never! Snatch a stronger breath:
194
What matters hardship, or danger, to you?
What were death to any true man
If the cause be true and high?
Beastly might quails under human
Looking calmly in its eye.
Come! with your fearless strength break yonder ranks!
God's blessing! glory! and evermore thanks!
If the cause be true and high?
Beastly might quails under human
Looking calmly in its eye.
Come! with your fearless strength break yonder ranks!
God's blessing! glory! and evermore thanks!
August 5, 1862.
195
THIS DAY, COUNTRYMEN.
Cowards, slink away!
But who scorns to see the foe
Deal our land all shame and woe,
Must come forth, to-day!
But who scorns to see the foe
Deal our land all shame and woe,
Must come forth, to-day!
Crops are safe, afield;
Cripples and old men can reap,
Young and strong and bold must leap
Other tools to wield.
Cripples and old men can reap,
Young and strong and bold must leap
Other tools to wield.
Cast the daily trade!
Never may be bought or won,
After this great fight is done,
What, To-day, is weighed.
Never may be bought or won,
After this great fight is done,
What, To-day, is weighed.
Leave the true-love's side!
Go, be fearless and be strong:
Woman glories to belong,
Where she looks with pride.
Go, be fearless and be strong:
Woman glories to belong,
Where she looks with pride.
196
True men hold our line:
Basely leave their true ranks thin,
Waste and ruin will rush in,
Like the trampling swine.
Basely leave their true ranks thin,
Waste and ruin will rush in,
Like the trampling swine.
Who dares be a man?
Now, for home and law and right,
Go, in God's name, to the fight!
Rescue! while we can.
Now, for home and law and right,
Go, in God's name, to the fight!
Rescue! while we can.
August 5, 1862.
197
MY TOWNSMEN FOR THE WAR.
A fife's shrill strain comes up the way;
Quick drum-beats make the pulses play;
Light sprays are waving overhead;
I hear a manifold tramp and tread:
Quick drum-beats make the pulses play;
Light sprays are waving overhead;
I hear a manifold tramp and tread:
Ah! you are soldiers, now, my kindly neighbors,
Learning the step and drill and watch at night;
Bound to that field where bayonets and sabres
Cut living flesh, and honest work is fight.
Learning the step and drill and watch at night;
Bound to that field where bayonets and sabres
Cut living flesh, and honest work is fight.
God bless you, there, as in this homely tillage!
One while, our brow's sweat,—one while, heart's red gore.
Keep safe the free homes! save the land from pillage!
Give to some right, once,—peace to all, once more!
One while, our brow's sweat,—one while, heart's red gore.
Keep safe the free homes! save the land from pillage!
Give to some right, once,—peace to all, once more!
We must be ready for our Time to call us;
Noble and brave, the best have answered first:
We must be men, let good or ill befall us:
Self-slaves and cowards in their blood are curst.
Noble and brave, the best have answered first:
198
Self-slaves and cowards in their blood are curst.
What has God set us in His living world for,
Save for the work that falls upon our day?
His iron smites the bosom it was hurled for,
One in his honest place, and one, away.
Save for the work that falls upon our day?
His iron smites the bosom it was hurled for,
One in his honest place, and one, away.
Go your great way! the sight of you has kindled
Awe for a simple man's undaunted will:
Men of great place, and men's great gains, have dwindled:
Daring of death for right grows higher still.
Awe for a simple man's undaunted will:
Men of great place, and men's great gains, have dwindled:
Daring of death for right grows higher still.
Soldiers, keep near best thoughts of homes that bred you:
Love, and the Prayer, and Parent's kind reproof;
Toil and earned rest; the maiden that shall wed you;
Plenty and peace beneath the farmer's roof.
Love, and the Prayer, and Parent's kind reproof;
Toil and earned rest; the maiden that shall wed you;
Plenty and peace beneath the farmer's roof.
Think of our Road, and Hill, and far-seen Churches;
Neighbors that gather on the Sabbath-morn;
Hear the harsh cry from where the peacock perches,
Not breaking that strong peace, of God's Word born.
Neighbors that gather on the Sabbath-morn;
199
Not breaking that strong peace, of God's Word born.
Think of our God, by whom your pledge is holden;
Do your work well: He sees it from above:
So, by and by, along the streets all golden,
March in blest triumph under eyes of love!
Do your work well: He sees it from above:
So, by and by, along the streets all golden,
March in blest triumph under eyes of love!
The fife's shrill strain faints far away:
Again bright stillness holds the day.
The drum's dull sound, behind the hill,
Lets down the blood's warm, hurried thrill.
Again bright stillness holds the day.
The drum's dull sound, behind the hill,
Lets down the blood's warm, hurried thrill.
It is not like our full-ripe grain
To cut fellow-men down, made in vain:
But come they crushing truth and right,
Sinks their low manhood out of sight.
By manful hands God fells man's crime:
The way shows forth: we see the time.
To cut fellow-men down, made in vain:
But come they crushing truth and right,
Sinks their low manhood out of sight.
By manful hands God fells man's crime:
The way shows forth: we see the time.
To some of us no high call comes
To march with clarions, flags, and drums,
And fling our life-strength into the throng:—
We have our prayer and speech and song.
Some take a place: the great Fate glides,
Far angels peering from the sides;
And farther down are won the gains,
Safe law, broad right, and broken chains.
To march with clarions, flags, and drums,
200
We have our prayer and speech and song.
Some take a place: the great Fate glides,
Far angels peering from the sides;
And farther down are won the gains,
Safe law, broad right, and broken chains.
Duanesburgh, July, 1863.
201
THE FAILURE AT FREDERICKSBURG,
UNDER THAT TRUE MAN AND SOLDIER, MAJOR-GENERAL BURNSIDE.
Was nothing gained? Is this not gain, so high
A mark for us and after-comers set?
Life is at strongest that can greatly die,
And manhood better worth than all men get.
A mark for us and after-comers set?
Life is at strongest that can greatly die,
And manhood better worth than all men get.
Is this not gain, that our slow, flabby heart,
Dull-laboring, long, in sordid work and trade,
With quick, strong, throb thrown back to it should start,
And learn that beat wherewith great deeds are made?
Dull-laboring, long, in sordid work and trade,
With quick, strong, throb thrown back to it should start,
And learn that beat wherewith great deeds are made?
At need best blood may better far be shed
Than frame fair thought, or drive the wheel and plough:
No fathers yet for country nobly bled,
Whose sons are not the nobler livers now.
Than frame fair thought, or drive the wheel and plough:
No fathers yet for country nobly bled,
Whose sons are not the nobler livers now.
To push the bridge up to the flaming guns,
To throng the rocking skiffs, in death's broad sight,
To wade the trench where their own life-blood runs,—
This was to conquer, if they lost they fight.
To throng the rocking skiffs, in death's broad sight,
202
This was to conquer, if they lost they fight.
They fail not, that their face still forward keep,
And lift their stout hearts up from every fall:
They fail that in mid-stream dread greater deep;
They fail, that, losing little, fear for all.
And lift their stout hearts up from every fall:
They fail that in mid-stream dread greater deep;
They fail, that, losing little, fear for all.
Here in far home, by safe ties tamely held,
We shame to write of these things brave and high,
Though our own blood from its next veins has welled,
And meekly we dare hope that we could die.
We shame to write of these things brave and high,
Though our own blood from its next veins has welled,
And meekly we dare hope that we could die.
But shall your great deeds want their written fame;
Our coward voices give you back no cheer?
To sit aghast or dumb were greater shame
Than thus to warm to manhood, even here.
Our coward voices give you back no cheer?
To sit aghast or dumb were greater shame
Than thus to warm to manhood, even here.
January 8, 1863.
203
PRAYER IN THE FIGHT.
[From Körner, 1831, revised 1846.]
Father, I call on Thee!
Roaring, the smoke of the battle rolls o'er me;
Flashing, the lightning of death is before me:
God of the battle, I call on Thee:
Father, oh, lead Thou me!
Roaring, the smoke of the battle rolls o'er me;
Flashing, the lightning of death is before me:
God of the battle, I call on Thee:
Father, oh, lead Thou me!
Father, oh, lead Thou me!
Whether to conquer or perish betide me,
Lord, Thy commandment ever shall guide me.
Lord, as Thou will, so guide Thou me:
God, I acknowledge Thee!
Whether to conquer or perish betide me,
Lord, Thy commandment ever shall guide me.
Lord, as Thou will, so guide Thou me:
God, I acknowledge Thee!
God, I acknowledge Thee!
As when the leaves in harvest-time rustle,
So in the war-tempest's terrible justle,
Outspring of Grace, I acknowledge Thee.
Father, oh, bless Thou me!
As when the leaves in harvest-time rustle,
So in the war-tempest's terrible justle,
Outspring of Grace, I acknowledge Thee.
Father, oh, bless Thou me!
Father, oh, bless Thou me!
Life I commit to Thy hands, in heaven;
Well mayest Thou take what by Thee has been given:
In living, in dying, bless Thou me!
God, I give praise to Thee!
Life I commit to Thy hands, in heaven;
204
In living, in dying, bless Thou me!
God, I give praise to Thee!
God, I give praise to Thee!
Strife is not here for mean barter or chattel;
All that is holiest hangs on our battle:
Fall we, or stand, I give praise to Thee:
God, I submit to Thee!
Strife is not here for mean barter or chattel;
All that is holiest hangs on our battle:
Fall we, or stand, I give praise to Thee:
God, I submit to Thee!
God, I submit to Thee!
When me the thunder of death has greeted,
When from my veins the life's-blood has fleeted,
To Thee,—I commit myself to Thee:
Father, I call on Thee!
When me the thunder of death has greeted,
When from my veins the life's-blood has fleeted,
To Thee,—I commit myself to Thee:
Father, I call on Thee!
205
OUR LAND BEYOND THE WAR.
When our good God shall give us rest from fighting,
And send our soldiers singing from the field,
Where the great wrong has found its bloody righting
From men that life, but never right would yield;
And send our soldiers singing from the field,
Where the great wrong has found its bloody righting
From men that life, but never right would yield;
There, in long peace, when sunny plenty hovers,
With sounds of mirth and work, o'er all the land,
There homelike households are, and sly, true-lovers,
And merry children, gambol, hand in hand;
With sounds of mirth and work, o'er all the land,
There homelike households are, and sly, true-lovers,
And merry children, gambol, hand in hand;
Brailing their sails, the pennoned ships, deep-freighted,
Come sliding through the ranks of anchored hulls;
In stony streets, the roar of trade belated,
Touches almost the morrow ere its lulls;
Come sliding through the ranks of anchored hulls;
In stony streets, the roar of trade belated,
Touches almost the morrow ere its lulls;
206
Over the world to thee, shall lowly dwellers,
Look, lovingly, Free Land, as fondly we;
And at dim hearths, and in dark ways, the tellers
Of thy proud fame and thy great hope shall be.
Look, lovingly, Free Land, as fondly we;
And at dim hearths, and in dark ways, the tellers
Of thy proud fame and thy great hope shall be.
1863.
| The poems of Robert Traill Spence Lowell | |