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 | The various writings of Cornelius Mathews |  |
153
POEMS ON MAN, IN HIS VARIOUS ASPECTS UNDER THE AMERICAN REPUBLIC.
I
THE CHILD.
Calm, in thy cradle lie, thou little Child,
Thy white limbs smoothing in a patient sleep,
Or, gambolling when thou wakest at the peep
Of the young day—as clear and undefiled
As thou! Around thy fresh and lowly bed
Look up and see, how reverent men are gathered,
In wonder at a babe so greatly fathered
Into life, and so by influence fed.
Thy white limbs smoothing in a patient sleep,
Or, gambolling when thou wakest at the peep
Of the young day—as clear and undefiled
As thou! Around thy fresh and lowly bed
Look up and see, how reverent men are gathered,
In wonder at a babe so greatly fathered
Into life, and so by influence fed.
They watch the quiet of thy deep blue eye—
Where all the outward world is born anew,
Where habit, figure, form, complexion, hue
Rise up and live again in that pure sky;
At every lifting of thine arms, they feel
The ribbed and vasty bulk of Empire shake,
And from the fashion of thy features take
The hope and image of the common-weal.
Where all the outward world is born anew,
Where habit, figure, form, complexion, hue
Rise up and live again in that pure sky;
At every lifting of thine arms, they feel
The ribbed and vasty bulk of Empire shake,
And from the fashion of thy features take
The hope and image of the common-weal.
See! through the white skin beats the ruddy tide!
The pulses of thine heart, that come and go,
Like the great circles of the ocean-flow,
And dash a continent at either side.
Thou wield'st a hopeful Empire, large and fair,
With sceptred strength: about thy brow is set
A fresh glad crown, with dewy morning wet,
And noon-day lingers in thy flaxen hair!
The pulses of thine heart, that come and go,
Like the great circles of the ocean-flow,
And dash a continent at either side.
Thou wield'st a hopeful Empire, large and fair,
With sceptred strength: about thy brow is set
A fresh glad crown, with dewy morning wet,
And noon-day lingers in thy flaxen hair!
Kingdom, authority and power to thee
Belong; the hand that frees, the chain that thralls—
Each attribute on various man that falls,
Strides he the globe, or canvass-tents the sea:
The sword, the staff, the judge's cap of death,
The ruler's robe, the treasurer's key of gold,
All growths the world-wide scope of life may hold,
Are formed in thee and people in thy breath.
Belong; the hand that frees, the chain that thralls—
Each attribute on various man that falls,
Strides he the globe, or canvass-tents the sea:
The sword, the staff, the judge's cap of death,
The ruler's robe, the treasurer's key of gold,
All growths the world-wide scope of life may hold,
Are formed in thee and people in thy breath.
Be stirred or still, as prompts thy beating heart!
Out of thy slumbering calmness there shall climb,
Spirits serene and true against the Time
That trumpets men to an heroic part;
And motion shall confirm thee, rough or mild
For the full sway that unto thee belongs,
In the still house or 'mid the massy throngs
Of life—thou gentle and thou sovereign Child!
Out of thy slumbering calmness there shall climb,
Spirits serene and true against the Time
That trumpets men to an heroic part;
And motion shall confirm thee, rough or mild
For the full sway that unto thee belongs,
In the still house or 'mid the massy throngs
Of life—thou gentle and thou sovereign Child!
II.
THE FATHER.
Behold thyself renewed! But think not there
A slave or suppliant lies; nor on him bow
Thy curious looks, as if another heir
Had sprung to bear about thy civil brow
In public streets—thy sober suit to wear:
In all things to obey, in all to trust—
And, when thy time has past and his ensues,
Ape-like to track thee downward in the dust.
A slave or suppliant lies; nor on him bow
Thy curious looks, as if another heir
Had sprung to bear about thy civil brow
In public streets—thy sober suit to wear:
In all things to obey, in all to trust—
And, when thy time has past and his ensues,
Ape-like to track thee downward in the dust.
See, rather, from the little lids looks out
A soul distinct and sphered, its own true star,
Shining and axled for a separate way,
Be its young orbit's courses near or far.
His little hands uplifted for his right
To have an individual life allowed—
Implore of men, of men, from thee the first,
The freedom by his birth-right hour bestowed.
A soul distinct and sphered, its own true star,
Shining and axled for a separate way,
Be its young orbit's courses near or far.
His little hands uplifted for his right
To have an individual life allowed—
Implore of men, of men, from thee the first,
The freedom by his birth-right hour bestowed.
Check not, nor hamper with an idle chain,
With customs harsh, of a loose leisure grown,
With habitudes of craft, of health or pain
The youngling life that asks to be its own:
His early friend, his helper and his guide
To stay his hold upon the rugged way—
Turn not that life-branch from the sun or shade aside,
But in heaven's breezes, rather, let it go astray.
With customs harsh, of a loose leisure grown,
With habitudes of craft, of health or pain
The youngling life that asks to be its own:
His early friend, his helper and his guide
To stay his hold upon the rugged way—
Turn not that life-branch from the sun or shade aside,
But in heaven's breezes, rather, let it go astray.
Be thou a Heaven of truth and cheerful hope,
Clear as the clear, round midnight at its full;
And he, the Earth beneath that elder cope—
And each 'gainst each for highest mastery pull:
The child and father, each shall fitly be—
Hope in the evening vanward paling down,
The one—the other younger Hope upspringing,
With the glancing morning for its crown.
Clear as the clear, round midnight at its full;
And he, the Earth beneath that elder cope—
And each 'gainst each for highest mastery pull:
The child and father, each shall fitly be—
Hope in the evening vanward paling down,
The one—the other younger Hope upspringing,
With the glancing morning for its crown.
There is no tyranny in truest love,
Nor rightful mastery in triumphant force;
And gentleness at hearth and board will prove
Felicity is born of their divorce:
Father and Child, the after and before,
Latest or first, whatever matters it?
Of mutual hopes, of mutual fears and loves,
Rounded and firm, their strands of life are knit.
Nor rightful mastery in triumphant force;
And gentleness at hearth and board will prove
Felicity is born of their divorce:
Father and Child, the after and before,
Latest or first, whatever matters it?
Of mutual hopes, of mutual fears and loves,
Rounded and firm, their strands of life are knit.
154
III.
THE TEACHER.
With reverent steps approach the soul that lies
Before thee, rude, unformed and full of life;
A chaos shrouding up a future world—
To order born—yet with itself at strife.
Peer for a while within the dark domain,
And see how temples mighty spring to sight,
Arks, palaces—all dead or living things
Doomed to climb up into the Heaven's light,
To heap the Earth or sail the outward Sea;
The giant mass of things to come at large,
Hovering about and shaping silently
Within that baby soul's unquiet marge.
Before thee, rude, unformed and full of life;
A chaos shrouding up a future world—
To order born—yet with itself at strife.
Peer for a while within the dark domain,
And see how temples mighty spring to sight,
Arks, palaces—all dead or living things
Doomed to climb up into the Heaven's light,
To heap the Earth or sail the outward Sea;
The giant mass of things to come at large,
Hovering about and shaping silently
Within that baby soul's unquiet marge.
In beauty shall that fresh-girt spirit build?
Shall harmony through all its chambers sing—
While rising day by day, and pile on pile,
Its topless worlds of heaven-ward wonders spring?
Say thou—that broodest on its infant breast!
Whose eyes cry light through all its dawning void—
Or, with a double darkness would invest
Young thoughts, on labor without hope employed.
'Tis there the truest work Earth knows is done—
Each hour, each instant buys the world an age
With glory bright: knits up its golden peace,
Or rends the web of time with endless rage.
Shall harmony through all its chambers sing—
While rising day by day, and pile on pile,
Its topless worlds of heaven-ward wonders spring?
Say thou—that broodest on its infant breast!
Whose eyes cry light through all its dawning void—
Or, with a double darkness would invest
Young thoughts, on labor without hope employed.
'Tis there the truest work Earth knows is done—
Each hour, each instant buys the world an age
With glory bright: knits up its golden peace,
Or rends the web of time with endless rage.
Bend to the Teacher, bend, oh world, thy knees!
And pray him, blessed God's name, to be true!
Lest he for ever break that spirit's precious peace,
And following millions in its fall undo.
A consecrated man—thou man of thought—
Keep clear thy master-soul in every act,
And be thy features pure as early light—
Crossing in power that spirit's undimmed tract.
The world's dust ever shake from off thy feet,
When drawest thou to that white temple near,
Nor vex its amber cope with words unmeet
Of hate, or anger harsh, or unblest fear.
And pray him, blessed God's name, to be true!
Lest he for ever break that spirit's precious peace,
And following millions in its fall undo.
A consecrated man—thou man of thought—
Keep clear thy master-soul in every act,
And be thy features pure as early light—
Crossing in power that spirit's undimmed tract.
The world's dust ever shake from off thy feet,
When drawest thou to that white temple near,
Nor vex its amber cope with words unmeet
Of hate, or anger harsh, or unblest fear.
Listen the way the spirit seeks to go—
And watch its sacred steps, or firm or frail;
Haste not its pace, nor hinder it the path—
Smiling or sad, in changeful mirth or wail,
Remember, thou art standing by thy God!
Ere Earth has soiled his beauty, touched his strength:
'Tis there th' Almighty makes his sweet abode;
And there, if undisturbed, would Heaven at length
Take up and fix its everlasting rest:
Yea, Heaven with these, its children, fain would dwell,
And, far-withdrawn within their stainless breast,
Deliver thence, at times, a blesséd oracle.
And watch its sacred steps, or firm or frail;
Haste not its pace, nor hinder it the path—
Smiling or sad, in changeful mirth or wail,
Remember, thou art standing by thy God!
Ere Earth has soiled his beauty, touched his strength:
'Tis there th' Almighty makes his sweet abode;
And there, if undisturbed, would Heaven at length
Take up and fix its everlasting rest:
Yea, Heaven with these, its children, fain would dwell,
And, far-withdrawn within their stainless breast,
Deliver thence, at times, a blesséd oracle.
And in such indexes [OMITTED]
[OMITTED] there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come at large.
Troil. and Cressid.
[OMITTED] there is seen
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come at large.
Troil. and Cressid.
IV.
THE CITIZEN.
With plainness in thy daily pathway walk—
And disencumbered of excess: no other
Jostling, servile to none, none overstalk,
For, right and left, who passes is thy brother.
And disencumbered of excess: no other
Jostling, servile to none, none overstalk,
For, right and left, who passes is thy brother.
Let him who in thy countenance looks,
Find there in meek and softened majesty,
Thy Country writ, thy Brother and thy God;
And be each motion, forthright, calm and free.
Find there in meek and softened majesty,
Thy Country writ, thy Brother and thy God;
And be each motion, forthright, calm and free.
Feel well with the poised ballot in thy hand,
Thine unmatched sov'reignty of right and wrong—
'Tis thine to bless, or blast the waiting land,
To shorten up its life or make it long.
Thine unmatched sov'reignty of right and wrong—
'Tis thine to bless, or blast the waiting land,
To shorten up its life or make it long.
Who looks on thee, not hopeless, should behold,
A self-delivered, self-supported Man;
True to his being's mighty purpose—true
To a wisdom-blessed—a god-given plan.
A self-delivered, self-supported Man;
True to his being's mighty purpose—true
To a wisdom-blessed—a god-given plan.
No where within the great globe's skyey round—
Canst thou escape thy duty, grand and high,
A man unbadged, unbonneted, unbound—
Walk to the Tropic—to the Desert fly.
Canst thou escape thy duty, grand and high,
A man unbadged, unbonneted, unbound—
Walk to the Tropic—to the Desert fly.
A full-fraught Hope upon thy shoulder leans,
And beats with thine, the heart of half the world;
Ever behind thee walks the shining Past,
Before thee burns the star-stripe, high unfurled.
And beats with thine, the heart of half the world;
Ever behind thee walks the shining Past,
Before thee burns the star-stripe, high unfurled.
V.
THE FARMER.
Full master of the liberal soil he treads,
With none to tithe, to crop, to third his beds
Of ripely-glowing fruit or yellow grain—
He knows what freedom is; undulled of pain
Looks on the sun and on the wheatfield looks,
Each glad and golden in the other's view;
Or, on the meadow listening to the sky
That bids its grasses thrive with starry dew.
With none to tithe, to crop, to third his beds
Of ripely-glowing fruit or yellow grain—
He knows what freedom is; undulled of pain
Looks on the sun and on the wheatfield looks,
Each glad and golden in the other's view;
Or, on the meadow listening to the sky
That bids its grasses thrive with starry dew.
To him there come in such still places,
Undimmed, majestical and fresh as life,
The elder forms, the antique mighty faces
Which shone in council, stood aloft in strife—
When went the battle, billowy, past;
When high the standard to the sky was raised;
When rushed the horsemen with the rushing blast,
And the red sword through shrouded valleys blazed.
Undimmed, majestical and fresh as life,
The elder forms, the antique mighty faces
Which shone in council, stood aloft in strife—
When went the battle, billowy, past;
When high the standard to the sky was raised;
When rushed the horsemen with the rushing blast,
And the red sword through shrouded valleys blazed.
155
When Cities rising shake th' Atlantic shore—
Thou mighty Inland, calm with plenteous peace,
Oh temper and assuage the wild uproar,
And bring the sick, vexed masses balmy ease.
On their red vision like an angel gleam,
And angel-like be heard amid their cries
Till they are stilled as is the summer's stream,
Majestical and still as summer skies.
Thou mighty Inland, calm with plenteous peace,
Oh temper and assuage the wild uproar,
And bring the sick, vexed masses balmy ease.
On their red vision like an angel gleam,
And angel-like be heard amid their cries
Till they are stilled as is the summer's stream,
Majestical and still as summer skies.
When cloud-like whirling through the stormy State
Fierce Revolutions rush in wild-orbed haste,
On the still highway stay their darkling course,
And soothe with gentle airs their fiery breast;
Slaking the anger of their chariot-wheels
In the cool flowings of the mountain brook,
While from the cloud the heavenward prophet casts
His mantle's peace, and shines his better look.
Fierce Revolutions rush in wild-orbed haste,
On the still highway stay their darkling course,
And soothe with gentle airs their fiery breast;
Slaking the anger of their chariot-wheels
In the cool flowings of the mountain brook,
While from the cloud the heavenward prophet casts
His mantle's peace, and shines his better look.
Better to watch the live-long day
The clouds that come and go
Wearying the heaven they idle through,
And fretting out its everlasting blue—
Than prowl through streets and sleep in hungry dens
The beast should own, though known and named as men's;
Though sadness on the woods may often lie,
And, wither to a waste the meadowy land—
Pure blows the air—and purer shines the sky,
For nearer always to Heaven's gate ye stand!
The clouds that come and go
Wearying the heaven they idle through,
And fretting out its everlasting blue—
Than prowl through streets and sleep in hungry dens
The beast should own, though known and named as men's;
Though sadness on the woods may often lie,
And, wither to a waste the meadowy land—
Pure blows the air—and purer shines the sky,
For nearer always to Heaven's gate ye stand!
VI.
THE MECHANIC.
O, when thou walkest by the river's brink,
Thy bulky figure outlined in the wave,
Or, on thine adze-staff resting, 'neath the ship
Thy strokes have shaped, or hear'st thou loud and brave
The clangor of the boastful forge—Think not
To strength of limb, to sinews large and tough,
Are given rights masterless and vantage-proof,
The sad, pale scholar and his puny hand
Idling his thoughts upon the idle sand,
May not possess as full: oh, maddened, drink not
With greedy ear what selfish Passion pours:
His a sway peculiar is, no less than yours.
Thy bulky figure outlined in the wave,
Or, on thine adze-staff resting, 'neath the ship
Thy strokes have shaped, or hear'st thou loud and brave
The clangor of the boastful forge—Think not
To strength of limb, to sinews large and tough,
Are given rights masterless and vantage-proof,
The sad, pale scholar and his puny hand
Idling his thoughts upon the idle sand,
May not possess as full: oh, maddened, drink not
With greedy ear what selfish Passion pours:
His a sway peculiar is, no less than yours.
The inner world is his; the outer thine—
(And both are God's)—a world, maiden and new,
To shape and finish forth, of iron and wood,
Of rock and brass, to fashion, mould and hew—
In countless cunning forms to re-create—
Till the great God of order shall proclaim it “Good!”
Proportioned fair, as in its first estate.
Let consecrate, whate'er it strikes, each blow—
From the small whisper of the tinkling smith,
Up to the big-voiced sledge that heaving slow
Roars 'gainst the massy bar, and tears
Its entrail, glowing, as with angry teeth—
Anchors that hold a world should thus-wise grow.
(And both are God's)—a world, maiden and new,
To shape and finish forth, of iron and wood,
Of rock and brass, to fashion, mould and hew—
In countless cunning forms to re-create—
Till the great God of order shall proclaim it “Good!”
Proportioned fair, as in its first estate.
Let consecrate, whate'er it strikes, each blow—
From the small whisper of the tinkling smith,
Up to the big-voiced sledge that heaving slow
Roars 'gainst the massy bar, and tears
Its entrail, glowing, as with angry teeth—
Anchors that hold a world should thus-wise grow.
In the First Builder's gracious spirit work,
Through hall, through enginery, and temples meek,
In grandeur towered, or lapsing, beauty-sleek,
Let order and creative fitness shine:
Though mountains are no more to rear,
Though woods may rise again no more;
The noble task to re-produce is thine!
The spreading branch—the firm-set peak may live
With thee, and in thy well-sped labors thrive.
Through hall, through enginery, and temples meek,
In grandeur towered, or lapsing, beauty-sleek,
Let order and creative fitness shine:
Though mountains are no more to rear,
Though woods may rise again no more;
The noble task to re-produce is thine!
The spreading branch—the firm-set peak may live
With thee, and in thy well-sped labors thrive.
The untried forces of the air, the earth, the sea,
Wait at thy bidding: oh, compel their powers
To uses holy! Let them ever be
Servants to tend and bless these new-found bowers;
And make them household workers, free and swift,
On daily use—on daily service bent:
Her face again old Eden may uplift,
And God look down the open firmament.
Wait at thy bidding: oh, compel their powers
To uses holy! Let them ever be
Servants to tend and bless these new-found bowers;
And make them household workers, free and swift,
On daily use—on daily service bent:
Her face again old Eden may uplift,
And God look down the open firmament.
VII.
THE MERCHANT.
Who gathers income in the narrow street,
Or, climbing, reaps it from the roughening sea—
His anchor Truth should fix—should fill his flowing sheet,
His weapon, helm and staff the Truth should be.
Wrought out with lies each rafter of thine house,
Black with the falsehood every thread thou wearest—
A subtle ruin, sudden overthrow,
For all thy household's fortune thou preparest.
Or, climbing, reaps it from the roughening sea—
His anchor Truth should fix—should fill his flowing sheet,
His weapon, helm and staff the Truth should be.
Wrought out with lies each rafter of thine house,
Black with the falsehood every thread thou wearest—
A subtle ruin, sudden overthrow,
For all thy household's fortune thou preparest.
Undimmed the man should through the trader shine,
And show the soul unbabied by his craft:
Slight duties may not lessen but adorn,
The cedar's berries round the cedar's shaft.
The pettiest act will lift the doer up,
The mightiest cast him swift and headlong down;
If one forget the spirit of his deed,
The other wears it as a living crown.
And show the soul unbabied by his craft:
Slight duties may not lessen but adorn,
The cedar's berries round the cedar's shaft.
The pettiest act will lift the doer up,
The mightiest cast him swift and headlong down;
If one forget the spirit of his deed,
The other wears it as a living crown.
A grace, be sure, in all true duty dwells;
Humble or high, you always know it thus,
For beautiful in act, the foregone thought
Confirms its truth though seeming-ominous.
Pure hands and just, may therefore, well be laid
On duties daily as the air we breathe;
And Heaven amid the thorns of harshest Trade
The laurel of its gentlest love may wreathe.
Humble or high, you always know it thus,
For beautiful in act, the foregone thought
Confirms its truth though seeming-ominous.
156
On duties daily as the air we breathe;
And Heaven amid the thorns of harshest Trade
The laurel of its gentlest love may wreathe.
VIII.
THE SOLDIER.
With grounded arms, and silent as the mountains,
Pause for thy quarrel at the marbled sea:
And, when comes the ship o'er the curled wave bounding,
Remember that a brother in a foe may be.
Thy battles are not wars but self-defences,
Girding this Universal Home about—
Least lion-wrong and subtle-fanged pretences
Pierce to its heart and let the life-hope out.
Pause for thy quarrel at the marbled sea:
And, when comes the ship o'er the curled wave bounding,
Remember that a brother in a foe may be.
Thy battles are not wars but self-defences,
Girding this Universal Home about—
Least lion-wrong and subtle-fanged pretences
Pierce to its heart and let the life-hope out.
Though sleeps the war-blade in the amorous sheath,
And the dumb cannon stretches at his leisure—
When strikes the shore a hostile foot—out-breathe
Ye grim, loud guns—ye fierce swords work your pleasure!
And sternly, in your stubborn socket set,
For life or death—your hilt upon the steadfast land,
Your glance upon the foe, thou sure-set bayonet,
Firm 'gainst a world's shock in your fastness stand!
And the dumb cannon stretches at his leisure—
When strikes the shore a hostile foot—out-breathe
Ye grim, loud guns—ye fierce swords work your pleasure!
And sternly, in your stubborn socket set,
For life or death—your hilt upon the steadfast land,
Your glance upon the foe, thou sure-set bayonet,
Firm 'gainst a world's shock in your fastness stand!
This, this, remember still, thou son of war—
The child of peace within his doorway seated
Thine equal is—though beats the luring drum afar,
Or flies the meteor column, battle-heated.
Lo, in the calmness of that silent man,
And in the peaceful sky-arch o'er him bending,
A pure repose—a more triumphal span
Than sees the death-field 'mid its storms ascending.
The child of peace within his doorway seated
Thine equal is—though beats the luring drum afar,
Or flies the meteor column, battle-heated.
Lo, in the calmness of that silent man,
And in the peaceful sky-arch o'er him bending,
A pure repose—a more triumphal span
Than sees the death-field 'mid its storms ascending.
IX.
THE STATESMAN.
Up to the Capitol who goes, a heart
Should bear, state tyranny may not subdue:
Wakening at dawn to fill its ample part,
It, ever, day by day, grows fresh and new,
Nor sleeps through the mid-watches of the night,
Though there the thankless world has left its smart—
Without some visions, beckoning and bright,
That make him gladly to his bedside start.
Should bear, state tyranny may not subdue:
Wakening at dawn to fill its ample part,
It, ever, day by day, grows fresh and new,
Nor sleeps through the mid-watches of the night,
Though there the thankless world has left its smart—
Without some visions, beckoning and bright,
That make him gladly to his bedside start.
Accursed who on the Mount of Rulers sits
Nor gains some glimpses of a fairer day!
Who knows not there, what there his soul befits,
Thoughts that leap up and kindle far away
The coming time! Who rather dulls the ear
With brawling discord and a cloud of words;
Owning no hopeful object, far or near,
Save what the universal self affords.
Nor gains some glimpses of a fairer day!
Who knows not there, what there his soul befits,
Thoughts that leap up and kindle far away
The coming time! Who rather dulls the ear
With brawling discord and a cloud of words;
Owning no hopeful object, far or near,
Save what the universal self affords.
He that with sway of empire would control
The various millions, parted or amassed,
Should hold in bounteous fee, an ample soul—
Equal the first to know, nor less the last.
At once whose general eye surveys as well
The rank or desert waste—the golden field;
Whose feet the mountain and the valley tread,
Nor ever to the trials of the way will yield.
The various millions, parted or amassed,
Should hold in bounteous fee, an ample soul—
Equal the first to know, nor less the last.
At once whose general eye surveys as well
The rank or desert waste—the golden field;
Whose feet the mountain and the valley tread,
Nor ever to the trials of the way will yield.
Deeper to feel, than quickly to express—
And then alone in the consummate act—
Reaps not the ocean, nor the free air tills,
But keeps within his own peculiar tract:
Confirms the State in all its needful right,
Nor strives to draw within its general bound—
For gain or loss, for glory or distress,
The rich man's hoard, the poor man's patchy ground.
And then alone in the consummate act—
Reaps not the ocean, nor the free air tills,
But keeps within his own peculiar tract:
Confirms the State in all its needful right,
Nor strives to draw within its general bound—
For gain or loss, for glory or distress,
The rich man's hoard, the poor man's patchy ground.
Strip from the trunk that props the empire up,
All weeds, all flowers that hide the simple shaft:
Plain as the heavens and pure as mid-day light
Swell up its ample cope: nor there ingraft
A single leaf nor draw a single line
To daze the eye, to coax the grasper's hand;
Simple it rose—so simple let it rise—
For ever, changeless simple let it stand!
All weeds, all flowers that hide the simple shaft:
Plain as the heavens and pure as mid-day light
Swell up its ample cope: nor there ingraft
A single leaf nor draw a single line
To daze the eye, to coax the grasper's hand;
Simple it rose—so simple let it rise—
For ever, changeless simple let it stand!
X.
THE FRIEND.
In fortune, quality and temper mated—
Let spirit, spirit choose—each suited best
To th' other's moving mind or mind at rest;
In kinship nearer than red blood related.
Let spirit, spirit choose—each suited best
To th' other's moving mind or mind at rest;
In kinship nearer than red blood related.
No castled shadow falls upon the heart,
Darkening two faces each turned unto the other,
No lowly roof shuts in or out the heart's true brother:
Life deals to each, with equal chance, an equal part.
Darkening two faces each turned unto the other,
No lowly roof shuts in or out the heart's true brother:
Life deals to each, with equal chance, an equal part.
With mutual talk—of kingdoms past and gone,
Of Rome republic-strong, and emperored Rome,
Of Venice in her heart-struck days of doom—
Old Israel pure, and scarlet Babylon;
Of Rome republic-strong, and emperored Rome,
Of Venice in her heart-struck days of doom—
Old Israel pure, and scarlet Babylon;
Of muniments to guard a free-born State,
And ships built proof against the world's worst shock,
Of battles won, white-handed peace to rock
The coming age,—they share a mutual fate.
And ships built proof against the world's worst shock,
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The coming age,—they share a mutual fate.
Sweet is the counsel of two noble souls!
Where sleeps no lie of thought with art concealed
Beneath the blood, nor in the face revealed:
Friendship goes oftenest down on secret shoals!
Where sleeps no lie of thought with art concealed
Beneath the blood, nor in the face revealed:
Friendship goes oftenest down on secret shoals!
XI.
THE PAINTER.
A spirit moving through the Universe,
On Heaven's errand or his own Nature's pure behest,
Would feed the beauty of his living wings
On the free air, and on the sunset bright
And on the dawning morn; should a later quest
Detain him far through the heart of night,
Some darker tints might creep across the light,
Or a chill splendor, of the moonbeams born,
Dying in gloom or wakening into morn.
On Heaven's errand or his own Nature's pure behest,
Would feed the beauty of his living wings
On the free air, and on the sunset bright
And on the dawning morn; should a later quest
Detain him far through the heart of night,
Some darker tints might creep across the light,
Or a chill splendor, of the moonbeams born,
Dying in gloom or wakening into morn.
Lighting by chance amid the haunts of men—
Though yearning to get purely forth again—
Their dusty shouts would not sully, but renew
Rather, the glory when it had wandered through.
To pause beneath a mountain, should he choose,
Its shadows would be portion of the many hues:—
And, up returning to his hearth-sky post,
And, dwelling, once again, within his native coast,
The mountain and the sea, the setting sun,
The storm, the face of men, and the calm moon
Would live again upon the pictured vans and in the glowing crest
Of that High Spirit, moving or at rest.
Though yearning to get purely forth again—
Their dusty shouts would not sully, but renew
Rather, the glory when it had wandered through.
To pause beneath a mountain, should he choose,
Its shadows would be portion of the many hues:—
And, up returning to his hearth-sky post,
And, dwelling, once again, within his native coast,
The mountain and the sea, the setting sun,
The storm, the face of men, and the calm moon
Would live again upon the pictured vans and in the glowing crest
Of that High Spirit, moving or at rest.
Be, thou, oh Painter, various, pure and free,
As Heaven's boundless and wide-wingéd minister:
Moving abroad, thy spirit let confer
With whispering beauty, born of Earth, of Air or Sea.
Look on the earth that breaks about thy feet,
In valleys and in mountains starry:
Look on the woods, amid whose colored bowers,
The dark bright seasons, else departed, tarry.
See Heaven shining through the pale blue sky
On some fair day of dreamy summer,
Smiling upon a gentle hour just dead,
Or kindling welcome for a gentler comer.
As Heaven's boundless and wide-wingéd minister:
Moving abroad, thy spirit let confer
With whispering beauty, born of Earth, of Air or Sea.
Look on the earth that breaks about thy feet,
In valleys and in mountains starry:
Look on the woods, amid whose colored bowers,
The dark bright seasons, else departed, tarry.
See Heaven shining through the pale blue sky
On some fair day of dreamy summer,
Smiling upon a gentle hour just dead,
Or kindling welcome for a gentler comer.
Are there no spirits, kin to light and beauty,
Springing to cheer these sweet and suited haunts?
Faces of love and forms of eldest duty,
Which, unexpressed, the soul thereafter pants?
Fill thou, the mansion of thy Father-land
With hues to gladden in its hours of need,
With glancing shapes that every fairness breed,
And pour a larger life from thy creative hand!
Springing to cheer these sweet and suited haunts?
Faces of love and forms of eldest duty,
Which, unexpressed, the soul thereafter pants?
Fill thou, the mansion of thy Father-land
With hues to gladden in its hours of need,
With glancing shapes that every fairness breed,
And pour a larger life from thy creative hand!
XII.
THE SCULPTOR.
Leap up into the light, ye living Forms!
And plant 'mid men your birthright feet;
Angry and fierce as the maned thunder's storms,
And as the lightning beautiful and fleet.
Of quick and thoughtful souls the truest thoughts,
Born of the marble at Heaven's happy hour—
Ye blessed Realities! who strike the doubts
Begot of speech, dumb, with your better power.
And plant 'mid men your birthright feet;
Angry and fierce as the maned thunder's storms,
And as the lightning beautiful and fleet.
Of quick and thoughtful souls the truest thoughts,
Born of the marble at Heaven's happy hour—
Ye blessed Realities! who strike the doubts
Begot of speech, dumb, with your better power.
Human and life-like with no sense of pain,
Come forth, crowned heroes of the early age,
Chieftain and soldier, senator and sage—
Benignant, wise and brave again!
Would the soul clothe itself in elder gloom—
Let stand upon the cliff and in the shadowy grove,
The tawny ancient of the warrior race,
With dusky limb and flushing face,
Diffusing Autumn through the stilly place—
For battle stern, or soothed for love.
Come forth, crowned heroes of the early age,
Chieftain and soldier, senator and sage—
Benignant, wise and brave again!
Would the soul clothe itself in elder gloom—
Let stand upon the cliff and in the shadowy grove,
The tawny ancient of the warrior race,
With dusky limb and flushing face,
Diffusing Autumn through the stilly place—
For battle stern, or soothed for love.
Or should a spirit of a larger scope
Seek to express itself in sacred stone:
Cast, life-long, on the mountain-slope
Or seat upon the starry mountain-cone,
Colossal and resigned, the gloomy gods
Eying at large their lost abodes,
Towering and swart and knit in every limb,
With brows on which the tempest lives,
With eyes wherein the past survives;
Gloomy and battailous and grim.
Seek to express itself in sacred stone:
Cast, life-long, on the mountain-slope
Or seat upon the starry mountain-cone,
Colossal and resigned, the gloomy gods
Eying at large their lost abodes,
Towering and swart and knit in every limb,
With brows on which the tempest lives,
With eyes wherein the past survives;
Gloomy and battailous and grim.
Think not too much what other climes have done,
What other ages: with painful following, weary,
Each step thou takest darkens thy natural sun,
And makes thy coming course, thy by-gone, dreary.
Let the soul in thee lift its awful front,
Facing the Universe that stands before it;
Beaten by day and night and tempests' brunt,
All shapes—all glorious passions shall cross o'er it.
Forth from their midst some forms will leap
That other souls have never disencumbered,
And up shall spring through all the broad-set land,
The fair white people of thy love unnumbered.
What other ages: with painful following, weary,
Each step thou takest darkens thy natural sun,
And makes thy coming course, thy by-gone, dreary.
Let the soul in thee lift its awful front,
Facing the Universe that stands before it;
Beaten by day and night and tempests' brunt,
All shapes—all glorious passions shall cross o'er it.
Forth from their midst some forms will leap
That other souls have never disencumbered,
And up shall spring through all the broad-set land,
The fair white people of thy love unnumbered.
XIII.
THE JOURNALIST.
As shakes the canvass of a thousand ships,
Struck by a heavy land-breeze, far at sea—
Ruffle the thousand broad-sheets of the land,
Filled with the people's breath of potency;
Struck by a heavy land-breeze, far at sea—
Ruffle the thousand broad-sheets of the land,
Filled with the people's breath of potency;
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A thousand images the hour will take,
From him who strikes, who rules, who speaks, who sings;
Many within the hour their grave to make—
Many to live, far in the heart of things.
From him who strikes, who rules, who speaks, who sings;
Many within the hour their grave to make—
Many to live, far in the heart of things.
A dark-dyed spirit he who coins the time,
To virtue's wrong, in base disloyal lies—
Who makes the morning's breath, the evening's tide,
The utterer of his blighting forgeries.
To virtue's wrong, in base disloyal lies—
Who makes the morning's breath, the evening's tide,
The utterer of his blighting forgeries.
How beautiful who scatters, wide and free,
The gold-bright seeds of loved and loving truth!
By whose perpetual hand, each day, supplied—
Leaps to new life the empire's heart of youth.
The gold-bright seeds of loved and loving truth!
By whose perpetual hand, each day, supplied—
Leaps to new life the empire's heart of youth.
To know the instant and to speak it true,
Its passing lights of joy, its dark, sad cloud,
To fix upon the unnumbered gazers' view,
Is to thy ready hand's broad strength allowed.
Its passing lights of joy, its dark, sad cloud,
To fix upon the unnumbered gazers' view,
Is to thy ready hand's broad strength allowed.
There is an in-wrought life in every hour,
Fit to be chronicled at large and told—
'Tis thine to pluck to light its secret power,
And on the air its many-colored heart unfold.
Fit to be chronicled at large and told—
'Tis thine to pluck to light its secret power,
And on the air its many-colored heart unfold.
The angel that in sand-dropped minutes lives,
Demands a message cautious as the ages—
Who stuns, with dusk-red words of hate, his ear,
That mighty power to boundless wrath enrages.
Demands a message cautious as the ages—
Who stuns, with dusk-red words of hate, his ear,
That mighty power to boundless wrath enrages.
Hell not the quiet of a Chosen Land,
Thou grimy man over thine engine bending;
The spirit pent that breathes the life into its limbs,
Docile for love is tyrannous in rending.
Thou grimy man over thine engine bending;
The spirit pent that breathes the life into its limbs,
Docile for love is tyrannous in rending.
Obey, Rhinoceros! an infant's hand,
Leviathan! obey the fisher mild and young,
Vexed Ocean! smile, for on thy broad-beat sand
The little curlew pipes his shrilly song.
Leviathan! obey the fisher mild and young,
Vexed Ocean! smile, for on thy broad-beat sand
The little curlew pipes his shrilly song.
XIV.
THE MASSES.
When, wild and high, the uproar swells
From crowds that gather at the set of day;
When square and market roar in stormy play,
And fields of men, like lions, shake their fells
Of savage hair; when, quick and deep, call out the bells
Through all the lower Heaven ringing,
As if an earthquake's shock
The city's base should rock,
And set its troubled turrets singing:—
Remember, Men! on massy strength relying,
There is a heart of right
Not always open to the light,
Secret and still and force-defying.
In vast assemblies calm, let order rule,
And, every shout a cadence owning,
Make musical the vexed wind's moaning,
And be as little children at a singing-school.
From crowds that gather at the set of day;
When square and market roar in stormy play,
And fields of men, like lions, shake their fells
Of savage hair; when, quick and deep, call out the bells
Through all the lower Heaven ringing,
As if an earthquake's shock
The city's base should rock,
And set its troubled turrets singing:—
Remember, Men! on massy strength relying,
There is a heart of right
Not always open to the light,
Secret and still and force-defying.
In vast assemblies calm, let order rule,
And, every shout a cadence owning,
Make musical the vexed wind's moaning,
And be as little children at a singing-school.
But, when, thick as night, the sky is crusted o'er,
Stifling life's pulse and making Heaven an idle dream,
Arise! and cry, up through the dark, to God's own throne:
Your faces in a furnace glow,
Your arms uplifted for the death-ward blow—
Fiery and prompt as angry angels show:
Then draw the brand and fire the thunder-gun!
Be nothing said and all things done!
Till every cobwebbed corner of the commonweal
Is shaken free, and, creeping to its scabbard back the steel,
Let's shine again God's rightful sun!
Stifling life's pulse and making Heaven an idle dream,
Arise! and cry, up through the dark, to God's own throne:
Your faces in a furnace glow,
Your arms uplifted for the death-ward blow—
Fiery and prompt as angry angels show:
Then draw the brand and fire the thunder-gun!
Be nothing said and all things done!
Till every cobwebbed corner of the commonweal
Is shaken free, and, creeping to its scabbard back the steel,
Let's shine again God's rightful sun!
XV.
THE REFORMER.
Man of the Future! on the eager headland standing,
Gazing far off into the outer sea,
Thine eye, the darkness and the billows rough commanding,
Beholds a shore, bright as the Heaven itself may be;
Where temples, cities, homes and haunts of men,
Orchards and fields spread out in orderly array,
Invite the yearning soul to thither flee,
And there to spend in boundless peace its happier day,
Gazing far off into the outer sea,
Thine eye, the darkness and the billows rough commanding,
Beholds a shore, bright as the Heaven itself may be;
Where temples, cities, homes and haunts of men,
Orchards and fields spread out in orderly array,
Invite the yearning soul to thither flee,
And there to spend in boundless peace its happier day,
By passion and the force of earnest throught,
Borne up and platformed at a height,
Where 'gainst thy feet the force of earth and heaven are brought;
Yet, so into the frame of empire wrought,
Thou, stout man, can'st not thence be severed,
Till ruled and rulers, fiends or men, are taught
And feel the truths by thee delivered.
Borne up and platformed at a height,
Where 'gainst thy feet the force of earth and heaven are brought;
Yet, so into the frame of empire wrought,
Thou, stout man, can'st not thence be severed,
Till ruled and rulers, fiends or men, are taught
And feel the truths by thee delivered.
Seize by its horns the shaggy Past,
Full of uncleanness; Heave with mountain cast,
Its carcase down the black and wide abyss—
That opens day and night its gulfy precipice,
By faded empires, projects old and dead
For ever in its noisy hunger fed:
But rush not, therefore, with a brutish blindness
Against the 'stablished bulwarks of the world;
Kind be thyself although unkindness
Thy race to ruin dark and suffering long, has hurled.
For many days of light, and smooth repose,
Twixt storm and weathery sadness intervene—
Thy course is Nature's; on thy triumph flows,
Assured, like hers, though noiseless and serene.
Full of uncleanness; Heave with mountain cast,
Its carcase down the black and wide abyss—
That opens day and night its gulfy precipice,
By faded empires, projects old and dead
For ever in its noisy hunger fed:
But rush not, therefore, with a brutish blindness
Against the 'stablished bulwarks of the world;
Kind be thyself although unkindness
Thy race to ruin dark and suffering long, has hurled.
For many days of light, and smooth repose,
Twixt storm and weathery sadness intervene—
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Assured, like hers, though noiseless and serene.
Wake not at midnight and proclaim the day,
When lightning only flashes o'er the way:
Pauses and starts and strivings towards an end,
Are not a birth, although a god's birth they portend.
Be patient therefore like the old broad earth
That bears the guilty up, and through the night
Conducts them gently to the dawning light—
Thy silent hours shall have as great a birth!
When lightning only flashes o'er the way:
Pauses and starts and strivings towards an end,
Are not a birth, although a god's birth they portend.
Be patient therefore like the old broad earth
That bears the guilty up, and through the night
Conducts them gently to the dawning light—
Thy silent hours shall have as great a birth!
XVI.
THE POOR MAN.
Free paths and open tracts about us lie,
'Gainst Fortune's spite, though deadliest to undo:
On him who droops beneath the saddest sky,
Hopes of a better time must flicker through.
'Gainst Fortune's spite, though deadliest to undo:
On him who droops beneath the saddest sky,
Hopes of a better time must flicker through.
No yoke that evil hours would on him lay,
Can bow to earth his unreturning look;
The ample fields through which he plods his way
Are but his better Fortune's open book.
Can bow to earth his unreturning look;
The ample fields through which he plods his way
Are but his better Fortune's open book.
Though the dark smithy's stains becloud his brow,
His limbs the dank and sallow dungeon claim;
The forge's light may take the halo's glow,
An angel knock the fetters from his frame.
His limbs the dank and sallow dungeon claim;
The forge's light may take the halo's glow,
An angel knock the fetters from his frame.
In deepest needs he never should forget
The patient Triumph that beside him walks,
Waiting the hour, to earnest labor set,
When, face to face, his merrier Fortune talks.
The patient Triumph that beside him walks,
Waiting the hour, to earnest labor set,
When, face to face, his merrier Fortune talks.
Plant in thy breast a measureless content,
Thou Poor Man, cramped with want or racked with pain,
Good Providence, on no harsh purpose bent,
Has brought thee there, to lead thee back again.
Thou Poor Man, cramped with want or racked with pain,
Good Providence, on no harsh purpose bent,
Has brought thee there, to lead thee back again.
No other bondage is upon thee cast
Save that wrought out by thine own erring hand;
By thine own act, alone, thine image placed—
Poorest or President, choose thou to stand.
Save that wrought out by thine own erring hand;
By thine own act, alone, thine image placed—
Poorest or President, choose thou to stand.
A man—a man through all thy trials show!
Thy feet against a soil that never yielded
Other than life, to him that struck a rightful blow
In shop or street, warring or peaceful-fielded!
Thy feet against a soil that never yielded
Other than life, to him that struck a rightful blow
In shop or street, warring or peaceful-fielded!
XVII.
THE SCHOLAR.
Bosomed in peace and far apart from crowds—
Who sits till hands grow wan and eyes grow dim,
Pausing his pulse and stirring not a limb,
Though paling fast toward the dead man's shrouds?
'Tis thou, 'tis thou—thou foolish scholar's heart—
Forgetting round thee what a world there flows,
How, ever in and out, its mighty eddy goes—
And yet thou sittest on its edge, so still, apart.
Who sits till hands grow wan and eyes grow dim,
Pausing his pulse and stirring not a limb,
Though paling fast toward the dead man's shrouds?
'Tis thou, 'tis thou—thou foolish scholar's heart—
Forgetting round thee what a world there flows,
How, ever in and out, its mighty eddy goes—
And yet thou sittest on its edge, so still, apart.
Who thinks that dull dead books have deepest life,
Calls them by names of awed delight or gladness,
With one or other argues with a joyful madness,
And with the tidiest pillows for a wife?
Oh, thou poor, idle moon-struck heart of youth—
Has the keen air no better wit brought to thee;
This folly in this land will sure undo thee—
In spite of nobleness and worth, of gentlest truth!
Calls them by names of awed delight or gladness,
With one or other argues with a joyful madness,
And with the tidiest pillows for a wife?
Oh, thou poor, idle moon-struck heart of youth—
Has the keen air no better wit brought to thee;
This folly in this land will sure undo thee—
In spite of nobleness and worth, of gentlest truth!
Go cast these follies in the barren sea:
Seal up, for ever seal, the hateful leaves,
And turn thine eyes where light no more bereaves
Their orbs, and lift thine arms up strong and free.
Away, away all gentle thoughts shall glide,
All happiest fancies night or morning born;—
It may be thou wil't feel awhile forlorn,
And drop, one day, unmissed, beneath the hurrying tide!
Seal up, for ever seal, the hateful leaves,
And turn thine eyes where light no more bereaves
Their orbs, and lift thine arms up strong and free.
Away, away all gentle thoughts shall glide,
All happiest fancies night or morning born;—
It may be thou wil't feel awhile forlorn,
And drop, one day, unmissed, beneath the hurrying tide!
XVIII.
THE PREACHER.
Ever aslant the sky behold a shape,
Leaning at length upon the mastered air!
Man-like in form and yet divinely fair,
About his head a golden glory glows,
And fair as morning every feature shows.
His feet are toward the earth, and upward thrown
His stretched and yearning arms appeal to God;
With God he talks at that far height—with God alone.
Leaning at length upon the mastered air!
Man-like in form and yet divinely fair,
About his head a golden glory glows,
And fair as morning every feature shows.
His feet are toward the earth, and upward thrown
His stretched and yearning arms appeal to God;
With God he talks at that far height—with God alone.
Athwart all troubles of the day or night or clouds,
Athwart eclipse of sun or moon, or the dun tempest's shrouds—
Behold that radiant figure streaming,
'Twixt Earth and Heaven, and Heaven and Earth,
An angel mighty—meek as the swathed infant at its birth,
All the mid-region from its gloom redeeming.
'Tis Christ, 't is sacred Christ who there is beaming.
Oh, ye who sentried stand upon the temple-wall
Holy, and nearer to the glory's golden fall—
Athwart eclipse of sun or moon, or the dun tempest's shrouds—
Behold that radiant figure streaming,
'Twixt Earth and Heaven, and Heaven and Earth,
An angel mighty—meek as the swathed infant at its birth,
All the mid-region from its gloom redeeming.
'Tis Christ, 't is sacred Christ who there is beaming.
Oh, ye who sentried stand upon the temple-wall
Holy, and nearer to the glory's golden fall—
Moon-like possess and shed at large its rays—
The wide world knitting in a web of light,
Whose every thread the gladd'ning truth makes bright;
Peace, love and universal brotherhood,
Good will to man and faith in God the good.
Withered be he, the false one of the brood,
Who, husbandman of evil, scatters strife,
Brambling and harsh, upon the field of life:
But deeper cursed whose secret hand
Plucks on to doom the safeguards of the land,
Freedom, and civil forms and sacred Rights
That conscience owns: he, conscience-stung, who plights
His voice 'gainst these, should sheer-down fall
From off the glory of the temple-wall,
Smitten by God as false to truth and love
And all the sacred links that bind the heavens above
And man beneath: a withered Paul,
Apostleless, beyond recall!
The wide world knitting in a web of light,
Whose every thread the gladd'ning truth makes bright;
Peace, love and universal brotherhood,
Good will to man and faith in God the good.
Withered be he, the false one of the brood,
Who, husbandman of evil, scatters strife,
Brambling and harsh, upon the field of life:
But deeper cursed whose secret hand
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Freedom, and civil forms and sacred Rights
That conscience owns: he, conscience-stung, who plights
His voice 'gainst these, should sheer-down fall
From off the glory of the temple-wall,
Smitten by God as false to truth and love
And all the sacred links that bind the heavens above
And man beneath: a withered Paul,
Apostleless, beyond recall!
Rather, with blessings and the bonds of life
Let Heaven's good workman bind together
The house that roofs us on this dear, dear plot of earth,
An arbor in the genial sun,
A stronghold in the tyrannous weather:
Kindly and loving brothren every one,
All equal—all alike who thither tend,
Where all may dwell together without end—
And as our course must be, so let it be begun.
Let Heaven's good workman bind together
The house that roofs us on this dear, dear plot of earth,
An arbor in the genial sun,
A stronghold in the tyrannous weather:
Kindly and loving brothren every one,
All equal—all alike who thither tend,
Where all may dwell together without end—
And as our course must be, so let it be begun.
But shrink not, therefore, from the coward age,
That shows, in mockery shows, its hideous face at times,
And crosses with its cursed din the very sabbath-chimes;
O, smite and buffet with a holy rage
Its brassy cheeks and brow of icy coldness—
Dash and confound it with the storm-cloud's boldness
That frowns and speaks till every house-roof trembles,
And face to face no more dissembles
The God-fear coiled within the crusted heart!
Brandish the truth and let its four-edged dart
Cut to the quick, and, cut through every armor,
Unbosom to the light the Satan-charmer!
That shows, in mockery shows, its hideous face at times,
And crosses with its cursed din the very sabbath-chimes;
O, smite and buffet with a holy rage
Its brassy cheeks and brow of icy coldness—
Dash and confound it with the storm-cloud's boldness
That frowns and speaks till every house-roof trembles,
And face to face no more dissembles
The God-fear coiled within the crusted heart!
Brandish the truth and let its four-edged dart
Cut to the quick, and, cut through every armor,
Unbosom to the light the Satan-charmer!
Ye holy Voices sphered in middle air!
Lower than angels, nor as they so fair,
Yet quiring God's behest with truth and power—
Pitch your blest speech, or high or low,
That angels may its language own and know,
Through the round Heaven to which it rises,
And ever on the earth may fall in glad surprises,
The spring-sweet music of a sudden shower.
Heaven shall bless thee and the earth shall bless,
And up through the close, dark death-hour thou shall spring
With fragrant parting, and heaven-cleaving wing—
To ask, nor ask in vain, thy Christ's caress!
Lower than angels, nor as they so fair,
Yet quiring God's behest with truth and power—
Pitch your blest speech, or high or low,
That angels may its language own and know,
Through the round Heaven to which it rises,
And ever on the earth may fall in glad surprises,
The spring-sweet music of a sudden shower.
Heaven shall bless thee and the earth shall bless,
And up through the close, dark death-hour thou shall spring
With fragrant parting, and heaven-cleaving wing—
To ask, nor ask in vain, thy Christ's caress!
XIX.
THE POET.
The mighty heart that holds the world at full,
Lodging in one embrace the father and the child,
The toiler, reaper, sufferer, rough or mild,
All kin of earth, can rightly ne'er grow dull;
For on it tasks, in this late age, are laid
That stir its pulses at a thousand points;
Its ruddy haunts a thousand hopes invade,
And Fear runs close to smutch what Hope anoints.
On thee, the mount, the valley and the sea,
The forge, the field, the household call on thee.
Lodging in one embrace the father and the child,
The toiler, reaper, sufferer, rough or mild,
All kin of earth, can rightly ne'er grow dull;
For on it tasks, in this late age, are laid
That stir its pulses at a thousand points;
Its ruddy haunts a thousand hopes invade,
And Fear runs close to smutch what Hope anoints.
On thee, the mount, the valley and the sea,
The forge, the field, the household call on thee.
Men—bountiful as trees in every field,
Men—striving each, a separate billow, to be seen,
Men—to whose eyes a later truth revealed
Dazzling, cry out in anguish quick and keen,
Ask to be championed in their newborn thoughts,
To have an utterance adequate and bold—
Ask that the age's dull sepulchral stone
Back from their Saviour's burial-place be rolled:
All pressing to be heard—all lay on thee
Their cause, and make their love the joyful fee.
Men—striving each, a separate billow, to be seen,
Men—to whose eyes a later truth revealed
Dazzling, cry out in anguish quick and keen,
Ask to be championed in their newborn thoughts,
To have an utterance adequate and bold—
Ask that the age's dull sepulchral stone
Back from their Saviour's burial-place be rolled:
All pressing to be heard—all lay on thee
Their cause, and make their love the joyful fee.
There sits not in the wildernesses' edge,
In the dusk lodges of the wintry North,
Nor crouches in the rice-field's slimy sedge—
Nor on the cold, wide waters ventures forth—
Who waits not in the pauses of his toil,
With hope that spirits in the air may sing;
Who upward turns not, at propitious times,
Breathless, his silent features listening:
In desert and in lodge, on marsh and main,
To feed his hungry heart and conquer pain.
In the dusk lodges of the wintry North,
Nor crouches in the rice-field's slimy sedge—
Nor on the cold, wide waters ventures forth—
Who waits not in the pauses of his toil,
With hope that spirits in the air may sing;
Who upward turns not, at propitious times,
Breathless, his silent features listening:
In desert and in lodge, on marsh and main,
To feed his hungry heart and conquer pain.
To strike or bear, to conquer or to yield,
Teach thou! O, topmost crown of duty, teach
What fancy whispers to the listening ear,
At hours, when tongue nor taint of care impeach
The fruitful calm of greatly silent hearts;
When all the stars for happy thought are set,
And, in the secret chambers of the soul,
All blessed powers of joyful truth are met.
Though calm and garlandless thou may'st appear,
The world shall know thee for its crownèd seer.
Teach thou! O, topmost crown of duty, teach
What fancy whispers to the listening ear,
At hours, when tongue nor taint of care impeach
The fruitful calm of greatly silent hearts;
When all the stars for happy thought are set,
And, in the secret chambers of the soul,
All blessed powers of joyful truth are met.
Though calm and garlandless thou may'st appear,
The world shall know thee for its crownèd seer.
Mirth in an open eye may sit as well,
As sadness in a close and sober face:
In thy broad welcome both may fitly dwell,
Nor jostle either from its nestling-place.
Tears, free as showers, to thee may come as blessed,
As smiling, of the happy sunshine born,
And cloaked-up trouble, in his turn, caressed
Be taught to look a little less forlorn;
Thy heart-gates, mighty, open either way,
Come they to feast or go they forth to pray.
As sadness in a close and sober face:
In thy broad welcome both may fitly dwell,
Nor jostle either from its nestling-place.
Tears, free as showers, to thee may come as blessed,
As smiling, of the happy sunshine born,
And cloaked-up trouble, in his turn, caressed
Be taught to look a little less forlorn;
Thy heart-gates, mighty, open either way,
Come they to feast or go they forth to pray.
Gather all kindreds of this boundless realm
To speak a common tongue in thee! Be thou—
Heart, pulse, and voice, whether pent hate o'erwhelm
The stormy speech or young love whisper low.
Cheer them, immitigable battle-drum!
Forth, truth-mailed, to the old unconquered field—
And lure them gently to a laurelled home,
In notes softer than lutes or viols yield.
Fill all the stops of life with tuneful breath,
Closing their lids, bestow a dirge-like death!
To speak a common tongue in thee! Be thou—
Heart, pulse, and voice, whether pent hate o'erwhelm
The stormy speech or young love whisper low.
Cheer them, immitigable battle-drum!
Forth, truth-mailed, to the old unconquered field—
And lure them gently to a laurelled home,
In notes softer than lutes or viols yield.
Fill all the stops of life with tuneful breath,
Closing their lids, bestow a dirge-like death!
161
WAKONDAH, THE MASTER OF LIFE.
162
“We have already noticed the superstitious feelings with which the Indians regarded the Black Hills; but this immense range of mountains (the Chippewyan or Rocky Mountains) which divides all that they know of the world and gives birth to such mighty rivers, is still more an object of awe and veneration. They call it, “The Crest of the World,” and think that Wakondah or the Master of Life, as they designate the Supreme Being, has his residence among these aërial heights.”—
Astoria, Vol. I., p. 265.163
[_]
[The following stanzas are to be received as the incomplete (and, no doubt, very imperfect), fragment of a work, which opportunity and a mood, equal to what seems to the author the requirements of the subject, could alone conclude. This portion is published, with the hope that the author might feel himself, in its further progress, borne forward by something of the friendly impulse that grows from favor, and should not turn back, heart-smitten, to find that his was the only eye which dwelt with cheerful regard upon the ample look-out of its Future.]
I.
The Moon ascends the vaulted sky to-night;With a slow motion full of pomp ascends,
But mightier than the Moon that o'er it bends
A Form is dwelling on the mountain height
That boldly intercepts the struggling light—
With darkness nobler than the planet's fire:
A gloom and dreadful grandeur that aspire
To match the cheerful Heaven's far-shining might.
II.
Great God! how fearful to the gazing eye!Behold the bow that o'er his shoulder hangs,
But ah! winged with what agonies and pangs
Must arrows from its sounding bow-string fly;—
An arc of death and warfare in the sky.
He plants a spear upon the rock that clangs
Like thunder; and a blood-red token hangs,
A death-dawn, on its point aspiring high.
III.
Upon his brow a garland of the woods he wears,A crown of oak leaves broader than their wont;
Above his dark eye waves and dims its brunt—
Its feathers darker than a thousand Fears—
A cruel eagle's plume: High, high it rears,
Nor ever did the bird's rash youth surmount
A pitch of power like that o'ershadowed front
On which the plume its storm-like station bears.
IV.
Filled with the glory thus above him rolled—How would some Chinook wandering through the night
In cedern helm and elk-skin armor dight
Be pierced with blank amazement dumb and cold:
How, fear-struck, scan the Spirit's awful mould;—
The gloomy front, the death-dispelling eye,
And bulk that swallows up the sea-blue sky—
Tall as the unconcluded tower of old.
V.
Transcendant Shape! But hark, for lo a soundLike that of rivers and of mingled winds
Through forests raging 'till the tumult finds
Or makes an outlet free from hedge or bound,—
Breaks from the Holder of the mountain-ground.
Oh, listen sadly to the urgent cry!—
No mightier shadow of a strength gone by
Through the whole perishable Earth is found.
VI.
The Spirit lowers and speaks: “Tremble ye wild Woods!Ye Cataracts! your organ-voices sound!
Deep Crags, in earth by massy tenures bound,
Oh, Earthquake, level flat! The peace that broods
Above this world and steadfastly eludes
Your power, howl Winds and break;—the peace that mocks
Dismay 'mid silent streams and voiceless rocks—
Through wildernesses, cliffs and solitudes.
VII.
“Night-shadowed Rivers—lift your dusky handsAnd clap them harshly with a sullen roar!
Ye thousand Pinnacles and Steeps deplore
The glory that departs! Above you stands
Ye Lakes with azure waves and snowy strands,
A Power that utters forth his loud behest
Till mountain, lake and river shall attest
The puissance of a Master's large commands!”
VIII.
So spake the Spirit, with a wide-cast lookOf bounteous power and cheerful majesty;
As if he caught a sight of either sea
And all the subject realm between:—Then shook
His brandished arms, his stature scarce could brook,
Its confine; swelling wide, it seemed to grow
As grows a cedar on a mountain's brow
By the mad air in ruffling breezes took.
164
IX.
The woods are deaf and will not be aroused—The mountains are asleep, they hear him not,
Nor from deep-founded silence can be wrought,
Tho' herded bison on their steeps have browsed:
Beneath their banks in darksome stillness housed
The rivers loiter like a calm-bound sea;
In anchored nuptials to dumb apathy
Cliff, wilderness, and solitude, are spoused.
X.
Then shone afar Wakondah's dreadful eyes,With fire and lurid splendor, like the stars
That dazzle earth belolding them;—the wars
That noble spirits wage with enemies,
Flash in his aspect through its cloudy guise;—
His tower-high stature quakes in all its parts,
And from his brow a mighty sorrow starts—
A sorrow mightier than the midnight skies.
XI.
“Oh, wherefore tremble? Wherefore should I fearBecause these creatures now, by chance, are dumb,
Nor longer to my bidding with obeisance come;
As when, in times to startle and revere,
Templed on high within this cloudy sphere,
With wondering worship of the dusky wood—
The quivered stream, the dark-eyed solitude—
I stamped my image on the rolling year.
XII.
“At eve or morn whene'er I walked these hillsFrom ridge to ridge they shook, from peak to peak;
A thousand warrior tribes that dare not speak
Lay in my shadow with the awe that chills,
Dumb with the fear that boundless force instils.
Wakondah was a god and thunderer then,
Nor bent his bow nor launched his shafts in vain—
Lord of each power that terrifies or thrills.
XIII.
“Your dark foundations felt my framing hand;Nor can your sun-smote summits e'er forget
By whom their flood-resisting roots were set—
By whose clear skill their skyey power was planned.
Through all the borders of the lofty land—
Mountains! I call upon you to attest
Whose habitable wish upon your crest
Reared up his throne and fixed his Godhead stand.
XIV.
“My spirit stretched itself from East to West,With a winged terror or a mighty joy;
And, when his matchless bow-shafts would annoy,
I urged the dark red hunter in his quest
Of pard or panther with a gloomy zest,
And while through darkling woods they swiftly fare—
Two seeming creatures of the oak-shadowed air,
I sped the game and fired the follower's breast.
XV.
“Outsounding with my thunder thy loud vaunt,Thou, too, hast known me, mighty Cataract!—
When rocks in headlong motion thou hast tracked,
Like some huge creature goaded from his haunt,
Along the mountain passes rough and slaunt—
Who makes his foaming way while all around
He awes the circuit with a shuddering sound:—
So ragest Thou and lift'st Thy sounding front!”
XVI.
Power crumbles from the arm, and from the browGlory declines with surety swift as light:
Like towers that loose in storms their wondrous might,
Dark principalities of air must bow
And have their strength and terror smitten low:
The hour draws nigh, Wakondah, when on thine
Yon full orbed fire unpaled, shall cease to shine
Uplifted longer in Heaven's western glow!
XVII.
“Lo! where our foe up through these vales ascends,Fresh from the embraces of the swelling sea,
A glorious, white and shining Deity.
Upon our strength his deep blue eye he bends,
With threatenings full of thought and steadfast ends,
While desolation from his nostril breathes,
His glittering rage he scornfully unsheathes
And to the startled air its splendor lends.
XVIII.
“The nation-queller in their length of days—The slaughterer of the tribes art thou! the rude
Remorseless, vengeful foe of natural blood
And wood-born strength reared up amid the maze
Of forest walks and unimprisoned ways;—
The dwellers in unsteepled wastes; the host
Of warriors stark and cityless, whose boast
Was daring proof 'gainst torture that betrays.”
XIX.
Oh wrestle not, Wakondah, with the Time;The Time resistless in its present hour
Of rugged force, of multitudinous power
To make itself triumphant o'er the clime,
Where streams are endless, mountains as sublime
And valleys shadowy and calm as ever
Yet tasked a Godhead's high and bright endeavor,
Since first the world was in its mighty prime.
165
XX.
Far through the desert, see his fiery hoofSpeeds like the pale white courser of St. John,
With rage and dreadful uproar thundering on!
At every step old shadows fly aloof,
While on and on he bounds with strength enough
To master valley, hill and echoing plain—
Cheered by the outcry of a savage train
Of white-browed hunters armed in deadly proof.
XXI.
“Through the far shadows of the gathering yearsI see, visions denied to mortal eyes;
Phantoms of dreadful aspect that arise
Cold with the anguish of their wintry fears;
And struggling forth from out a gulf of tears
And blood by banded nations vainly shed,
Above them all a single Wo its head
Lifts high and awes its customary peers.
XXII.
“I say not now what name that Wo shall bear,What mournful omen on its front is written,
What pillared glories by its sad rage smitten—
Shall fall to earth, and all th' embracing air
With its dread sound of wasting tumult tear;
These are the future's—voiceless let them rest
Deep in the shadow of her silent breast,
'Till vengeance bid the sons of men—Prepare!”
XXIII.
So spake the Spirit; but I deemed I sawThat in the language of his gloomy eye,
That made a falsehood of his augury.
I know that Heaven is true to its great law;
I know how deep and damnable a flaw
Has through its righteous code of truth been rent
By erring swords and hands with blood besprent—
And this it is that fills my soul with awe.
XXIV.
And yet, oh God! I dare to ask of theePardon and palmy days for this dear land;
The glory of thy sun, thy shadowing hand,
In mercy spread abroad from sea to sea,
That all its wide vast empire so may be,
From loud Atlantic unto Oregon
An orb of power, and never to be won
Nor yielded up, a home and fortress to the free!
XXV.
“The past is past!” Wakondah spoke “the pastIs past: to others lifeless, cold and dumb
Beyond repeal, I bid it's shadows come
Swiftly before me, nor care I how vast
That which I gendered shall appear at last
As when at first it's dim colossal form,
Huge, rude, mis-shapen, noisy as a storm—
Rose up, by me called upward and amassed.
XXVI.
“Falling or rising through the azure air—Green dells that into silence stretch away;
Ye woods that counterfeit the hues of day
With colors e'en the day could not repair
From his wide fount of morning dyes and fair
Evening or noon; innumerous rampant life
With which this waste or verdant world is rife—
As yet were not; the offspring of a god-like care.
XXVII.
“Oh, backward how that youthful glory gleams—Ye creatures of my undiminished arm,
When shadowing hills were lifted like a charm,
And at a word their duly measured beams
Sprung to their chambers in the mountain seams.
This was no task-work, nor a toil of joy
Thus an immortal puissance to employ
In building worlds and pouring ocean-streams.
XXVIII.
“Oh! might and beauty of the forming earth—Shaped hy a hand upholding and divine,
For such was then Wakondah even thine!—
With hill and mountain masses bursting forth,
And struggling all along the blue-aired North—
With smiling valleys winding far between,
And rivers singing all aloud, though yet unseen:
While I, their sire, hung joyous o'er their birth.
XXIX.
“A fearful and a perilous joy was mine,When brooding thus above the seething world
I saw the striving giants swiftly hurled,
With thunderous noises to and fro; a constant line
Of furnaced lightnings, ever forced to shine
Quick, fierce and kindling through the shapeless gloom,
Made the dull void some creature disentomb,
And cheered its birth-pangs with a fire benign.
XXX.
“What voice of portent shook the gulf that heldThe uncreated majesty of woods,
The calm deep beauty of the solitudes
Of boundless fields; and from the deep compelled
That Behemoth, whose roar has lately quelled
Nations in panoply of arms arrayed?
Amid the sounding mass and undismayed
By striving rivers, shock of hills impelled
XXXI.
“'Gainst hills and wild beasts raging into light,Wakondah stood, and o'er the tumult bent,
It's Ruler and it's steadfast firmament.
He breaks the bondage of the cruel Night
That wraps them in its folds, and like a blight
Of storms that rage and thunder but to save
And purify, he burst your rock-ribbed grave—
The matchless Master of redeeming might.”—
166
XXXII.
The Spirit ceased and all along the air,From where in speechless majesty he stood—
On either hand through all the solitude
Of glittering peaks and dusky vales, to where
The wild beasts held afar their anxious lair—
A sudden silence like a tempest fell;
A silence and a gloom that none can tell—
A calm too dread for mortal things to bear.
XXXIII.
No cloud was on the moon, yet on His browA deepening shadow fell, and on his knees
That shook like tempest stricken mountain-trees,
His heavy head descended sad and low:
Like a high city smitten by the blow
That secret earthquakes strike and toppling falls
With all its arches, towers and cathedrals,
In swift and unconjectured overthrow.
XXXIV.
Thenceforth I did not see the Spirit liftAgain that night his great discrownéd head,
Nor heard a voice: He was not with the dead
Nor with the living, for the mighty gift
Of boundless power was passing like a rift
Of stormy clouds that still will have a tongue
Ere yet the winds have wafted them along
To endless silence, whitherward they drift.
THE END OF WAKONDAH.
| The various writings of Cornelius Mathews | |