 | [Poems by Shillaber in] Poets of Portsmouth |  |
325
THE DISMISSAL:
Showing the Feeling of a Patriotic young Lady, on the Occasion of her Lover's Recreancy.
The time has come that we must part:
I own no more the tender tie
That lately bound us heart to heart,
And say to all my hopes—good-by.
I own no more the tender tie
That lately bound us heart to heart,
And say to all my hopes—good-by.
I loved a Man. My love is dead;
For, when his country claimed his sword,
He from the trial meanly fled,
And died in living shame abhorred.
For, when his country claimed his sword,
He from the trial meanly fled,
And died in living shame abhorred.
He died to me: I'll own no more
The sway that once my heart inthralled:
The time that's passed I may deplore,
But do not wish the past recalled.
The sway that once my heart inthralled:
The time that's passed I may deplore,
But do not wish the past recalled.
Take back your gifts. The golden chain
You hung about my neck of old
Would now a burden be of pain,—
Your cowardice pollutes the gold.
You hung about my neck of old
Would now a burden be of pain,—
Your cowardice pollutes the gold.
I from my fingers tear the ring
I long have worn in loving pride:
'Twould be from hence a hated thing,
Since all that gave it value died.
I long have worn in loving pride:
'Twould be from hence a hated thing,
Since all that gave it value died.
326
I read your words with burning brow,
So full of tender love for me;
But I absolve from every vow,
And set you from your bondage free.
So full of tender love for me;
But I absolve from every vow,
And set you from your bondage free.
I would have borne with you the toil,
The burden, of obscure estate:
I'd not complain to be the foil
Of adverse and invidious fate.
The burden, of obscure estate:
I'd not complain to be the foil
Of adverse and invidious fate.
With honor left to shed its light,
We, self-sustaining, hand in hand,
Might well have dared misfortune's spite,—
The poorest, proudest in the land.
We, self-sustaining, hand in hand,
Might well have dared misfortune's spite,—
The poorest, proudest in the land.
But now I shudder as I think,
Like one awakened from a dream,
Of slumbering on the awful brink
Of that black-moving hideous stream,
Like one awakened from a dream,
Of slumbering on the awful brink
Of that black-moving hideous stream,
Whose course leads on its darkling way
Through ignominiousness and shame,
Lit only by one lurid ray,
To show my coward-coupled name.
Through ignominiousness and shame,
Lit only by one lurid ray,
To show my coward-coupled name.
Escaped, thank God!—I rend the chain,
And stand up disinthralled and free:
The riven steel, the human pain,
I give, my country's cause, to thee.
And stand up disinthralled and free:
The riven steel, the human pain,
I give, my country's cause, to thee.
'Tis duty's throb that stills complaint,—
No human love must intervene;
And better far than recreant taint
Were early grave and memory green.
No human love must intervene;
And better far than recreant taint
Were early grave and memory green.
330
MASTER WEEKS'S OLD FERULE.
Grim relic of a distant time,
More interesting than sublime!
Thou'rt fitting subject for my rhyme,
And touch'st me queerly,—
Unlike the touch that youthful crime
Provoked severely.
More interesting than sublime!
Thou'rt fitting subject for my rhyme,
And touch'st me queerly,—
Unlike the touch that youthful crime
Provoked severely.
It was a dark and fearful day
When thou held'st sovereign rule and sway,
And all Humanity might say
Could not avert
The doom that brought thee into play,
And wrought us hurt!
When thou held'st sovereign rule and sway,
And all Humanity might say
Could not avert
The doom that brought thee into play,
And wrought us hurt!
Ah, Solomon! that dogma wild
Of sparing rod and spoiling child
Has long thy reputation soiled,
And few defend it:
Our teachers draw it far more mild,
And strive to mend it.
Of sparing rod and spoiling child
Has long thy reputation soiled,
And few defend it:
Our teachers draw it far more mild,
And strive to mend it.
Oh! bitter were the blows and whacks
That fell on our delinquent backs,
When, varying from moral tracks,
In youthful error,
Thou madest our stubborn nerves relax
With direst terror.
That fell on our delinquent backs,
When, varying from moral tracks,
In youthful error,
Thou madest our stubborn nerves relax
With direst terror.
331
I know 'twas urged that our own good
Dwelt in the tingle of the wood
That scored us as we trembling stood,
And couldn't flee it;
But I confess I never could
Exactly see it.
Dwelt in the tingle of the wood
That scored us as we trembling stood,
And couldn't flee it;
But I confess I never could
Exactly see it.
The smothered wrath at every stroke
Was keenly felt, though never spoke;
And twenty devils rampant broke
For one subdued,
And all discordances awoke,—
A fiendish brood.
Was keenly felt, though never spoke;
And twenty devils rampant broke
For one subdued,
And all discordances awoke,—
A fiendish brood.
And impish trick and vengeful spite
Essayed with all their skill and might
To make the balance poise aright;
And hate, sharp-witted,
Ne'er left occasion, day or night,
To pass omitted.
Essayed with all their skill and might
To make the balance poise aright;
And hate, sharp-witted,
Ne'er left occasion, day or night,
To pass omitted.
I see it now!—the whittled doors,
The window-panes smashed in by scores,
The desecrated classic floors,
The benches levelled,
The streaming ink from murky pores,
The books bedevilled.
The window-panes smashed in by scores,
The desecrated classic floors,
The benches levelled,
The streaming ink from murky pores,
The books bedevilled.
Small reverence for Learning's fane,
For master's toil of nerve and brain:
They saw Instruction marred with pain,
And Alma Mater
Was thought of only by the train
To deprecate her.
For master's toil of nerve and brain:
They saw Instruction marred with pain,
And Alma Mater
Was thought of only by the train
To deprecate her.
332
'Tis strange to have thee in my grasp,
My fingers round thy handle clasp,
No sense of pain my feelings rasp,
As last I knew thee!
Then thou didst sting me like an asp,
Foul shame unto thee!
My fingers round thy handle clasp,
No sense of pain my feelings rasp,
As last I knew thee!
Then thou didst sting me like an asp,
Foul shame unto thee!
But gentler moods suggest the thought,
That still thine office, anguish-fraught,
For our best good unselfish wrought,
Had we but known it;
And we, with grateful spirit, ought
To freely own it.
That still thine office, anguish-fraught,
For our best good unselfish wrought,
Had we but known it;
And we, with grateful spirit, ought
To freely own it.
Perhaps,—but I am glad at heart
That thou no more bear'st sovereign part
In helping on Instruction's art
By terror's rule;
That other modes will prompt the smart
Than thee in school.
That thou no more bear'st sovereign part
In helping on Instruction's art
By terror's rule;
That other modes will prompt the smart
Than thee in school.
Thanks! old reminder of the past,
For this brief vision backward cast:
We measure progress to contrast
Times far and near,
Rejoiced, on summing up at last,
We're not arrear!
For this brief vision backward cast:
We measure progress to contrast
Times far and near,
Rejoiced, on summing up at last,
We're not arrear!
333
TRANSMUTATION:
Showing the Operation of a quick Fancy in working out spiritual Results from a real Subject.
I see him every week,
With his thin and wrinkled cheek,
And a wealth of wintry hair falling round his aged neck;
And his coat of homespun blue,
That's brushed the texture through,
Bears many awheres about it a white and seedy speck.
With his thin and wrinkled cheek,
And a wealth of wintry hair falling round his aged neck;
And his coat of homespun blue,
That's brushed the texture through,
Bears many awheres about it a white and seedy speck.
He's in the stranger's seat;
For no bending hinges greet
The old man hoary, when he comes with slow and lagging pace;
And the velvet-cushioned pews
All sympathy refuse
With the waiter at the table for the crumbs of God's free grace.
For no bending hinges greet
The old man hoary, when he comes with slow and lagging pace;
And the velvet-cushioned pews
All sympathy refuse
With the waiter at the table for the crumbs of God's free grace.
There he sits, with eager ear,
To catch the heavenly cheer,
As the minister unfolds the glories of the Word;
And a smile his face illumes,
As the apple gives its blooms,
When, in its secret depths, the call of Spring is heard.
To catch the heavenly cheer,
As the minister unfolds the glories of the Word;
And a smile his face illumes,
As the apple gives its blooms,
When, in its secret depths, the call of Spring is heard.
334
At times a tear I'll trace
Steal down his care-worn face,
As though some memory of eld were passing through his brain;
Then the smile will come once more,
As, when the storm is o'er,
The sun appears more bright through the lenses of the rain.
Steal down his care-worn face,
As though some memory of eld were passing through his brain;
Then the smile will come once more,
As, when the storm is o'er,
The sun appears more bright through the lenses of the rain.
His name I cannot guess;
But interest no less
Attracts my eager gaze to the old white-headed man;
For in his face I see
A mighty mystery
That awes me, as with earnest eye its depths I strive to scan.
But interest no less
Attracts my eager gaze to the old white-headed man;
For in his face I see
A mighty mystery
That awes me, as with earnest eye its depths I strive to scan.
Not with the pride of wealth,
Not with the thrill of health,
The human soul is strong in its world of joy and trust;
And, though drop away
The props of mortal clay,
There's a glory born within not dimmed by earthly dust.
Not with the thrill of health,
The human soul is strong in its world of joy and trust;
And, though drop away
The props of mortal clay,
There's a glory born within not dimmed by earthly dust.
I see upon his brow
A regal glory now;
And the poverty and pain are transmuted in its ray:
No longer poor and old
Is the form that I behold,
But a soul rejuvenate, and risen on a life of endless day.
A regal glory now;
And the poverty and pain are transmuted in its ray:
No longer poor and old
Is the form that I behold,
But a soul rejuvenate, and risen on a life of endless day.
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