[Poems by Legare in] That Ambitious Mr. Legaré The Life of James M. Legaré of South Carolina, Including a Collected Edition of His Verse |
 | THE COLLECTED POEMS OF JAMES M. LEGARÉ |
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 | [Poems by Legare in] That Ambitious Mr. Legaré |  |
149
THE COLLECTED POEMS OF JAMES M. LEGARÉ
151
MY SISTER
Ach! mir ist so wohl bei dir,
Will dich lieben fuer und fuer!
Leopold, Count V. Stolberg
Will dich lieben fuer und fuer!
Leopold, Count V. Stolberg
The bright eyed girl I left, hath changed
To one of statelier mould;
Yet is her heart the same, nor hath
My love to her grown cold.
A day I long have looked unto
With thirsting heart, is this;
Quis pudor desiderio,
Tam cari capitis!
To one of statelier mould;
Yet is her heart the same, nor hath
My love to her grown cold.
A day I long have looked unto
With thirsting heart, is this;
Quis pudor desiderio,
Tam cari capitis!
The blood that flushes in her cheek
Flows in my every vein;
The good old blood of ancient times
Without reproach or stain.
Yet loth am I to think that they
Who held our name before,
From that bright land whence they came,
More rare a jewel bore.
Flows in my every vein;
The good old blood of ancient times
Without reproach or stain.
Yet loth am I to think that they
Who held our name before,
From that bright land whence they came,
More rare a jewel bore.
Though she is fair as one in ten,
Though round a darker lot
Her smiles would cast a light, I ween
For these I love her not;
But for the soul, that taper-like
Burns quietly within,
And for the kindliness of heart
And purity from sin.
Though round a darker lot
Her smiles would cast a light, I ween
For these I love her not;
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Burns quietly within,
And for the kindliness of heart
And purity from sin.
I love her arm to lean on mine,
To guide her steps aright;
I love her eyes to speak to me
Affection pure and bright.
And proud within my heart am I,
That come what may, the arm
On which she rests is strong enough
To shelter her from harm.
To guide her steps aright;
I love her eyes to speak to me
Affection pure and bright.
And proud within my heart am I,
That come what may, the arm
On which she rests is strong enough
To shelter her from harm.
She tells me all her little joys,
Her troubles and her fears;
I smile with her, I calm her grief,
I kiss away her tears.
And thus we journey, hand in hand,
Along this path of ours,
The thorns we crush beneath our feet,
Our bosoms hold the flowers.
Her troubles and her fears;
I smile with her, I calm her grief,
I kiss away her tears.
And thus we journey, hand in hand,
Along this path of ours,
The thorns we crush beneath our feet,
Our bosoms hold the flowers.
153
ALL HAIL THE BRIDE!
To Mrs. B---.
Hail to the bride whose robe of snow,
Floats purely down in graceful flow;
Whose throbbing heart and roseate cheek,
The maiden's timid fondness speak:
Within whose eye the happy tear
Half tells her hope, half paints her fear.
All hail to her whom chains of flowers,
Will fetter to her lord's control;
The idol of my boyhood's hours,
Once goddess of my soul!
Floats purely down in graceful flow;
Whose throbbing heart and roseate cheek,
The maiden's timid fondness speak:
Within whose eye the happy tear
Half tells her hope, half paints her fear.
All hail to her whom chains of flowers,
Will fetter to her lord's control;
The idol of my boyhood's hours,
Once goddess of my soul!
Of lofty mind, of gentle mien,
More fair than Royal Arthur's queen,
When Launcelot of the lake became
The warder of his sovereign's fame;
What wonder I should kneel before
A shrine so bright, a flame so pure!
All hail to her whom chains of flowers, etc.
More fair than Royal Arthur's queen,
When Launcelot of the lake became
The warder of his sovereign's fame;
What wonder I should kneel before
A shrine so bright, a flame so pure!
All hail to her whom chains of flowers, etc.
I loved, yet worshipped unconfest,
The image glowing in my breast;
For brighter, lance nor knight hath broke,
Nor herald's tongue or trumpet spoke;
In those thrice happy days of old,
When love was purchased not with gold.
All hail to her whom chains of flowers, etc.
The image glowing in my breast;
For brighter, lance nor knight hath broke,
Nor herald's tongue or trumpet spoke;
In those thrice happy days of old,
When love was purchased not with gold.
All hail to her whom chains of flowers, etc.
154
If god-born Phaeton strove in vain,
The coursers of the Sun to rein;
If Jeärus his wing betrays,
Fast melting in the noon-tide blaze;
Why should I grieve that I am left,
Who aimed as high, of hope bereft!
Thrice happy be the bride whom flowers, etc.
The coursers of the Sun to rein;
If Jeärus his wing betrays,
Fast melting in the noon-tide blaze;
Why should I grieve that I am left,
Who aimed as high, of hope bereft!
Thrice happy be the bride whom flowers, etc.
Thy fetters Love, are iron-strong
In youth, though flower-wreathed along;
But unkind words or glances sear
The leaf, and leave the iron bare.
Let HIM so kind a warder be,
The captive's self may dream her free:
This captive of to-night, whom flowers,
Will fetter to her lord's control;
The idol of my boyhood's hours,
Once goddess of my soul!
In youth, though flower-wreathed along;
But unkind words or glances sear
The leaf, and leave the iron bare.
Let HIM so kind a warder be,
The captive's self may dream her free:
This captive of to-night, whom flowers,
Will fetter to her lord's control;
The idol of my boyhood's hours,
Once goddess of my soul!
January 24.
155
DU SAYE
A Legend of the Congaree
1. PART FIRST.
Fades in the west, the latest flush
Of summer's gorgeous eve;
With ceaseless moan, of Congaree
The dusky waters heave:
For one unknown the nightly bird
Commenceth now to grieve.
Of summer's gorgeous eve;
With ceaseless moan, of Congaree
The dusky waters heave:
For one unknown the nightly bird
Commenceth now to grieve.
And twilight deepens to a night
In every forest glade,
Save one, wherein the soldiers' care
A blazing heap has made,
And in the circle of its light
Their toil-worn limbs are laid.
In every forest glade,
Save one, wherein the soldiers' care
A blazing heap has made,
And in the circle of its light
Their toil-worn limbs are laid.
Their arms propped round the rugged trunks,
Or glitter from the ground:
Their steeds the scanty herbage crop,
Within the tether's bound:
Nor watch without the camp is there,
Nor wary sentry's round.
Or glitter from the ground:
Their steeds the scanty herbage crop,
Within the tether's bound:
Nor watch without the camp is there,
Nor wary sentry's round.
Some feed the flame, or seeking bring
Snapt twigs of sun-dried pine:
Tend well the haunch of buck, whereon
At once to sup and dine.
Or lazily, half blanket-wrapt,
With nodding brows recline.
Snapt twigs of sun-dried pine:
Tend well the haunch of buck, whereon
At once to sup and dine.
Or lazily, half blanket-wrapt,
156
While others sing wild songs, and pass
The cup from hand to hand;
Recount how none of rebel breed
Fierce Tarleton's arm withstand;
And boast of bloody laurels won
From outlawed Marion's band.
The cup from hand to hand;
Recount how none of rebel breed
Fierce Tarleton's arm withstand;
And boast of bloody laurels won
From outlawed Marion's band.
And here and there, in dizzy flight
The merry sparkles dart:
To mirthful life on every side
Old forest's echoes start.
One only, sad, with drooping head,
Sits from the rest apart.
The merry sparkles dart:
To mirthful life on every side
Old forest's echoes start.
One only, sad, with drooping head,
Sits from the rest apart.
As weeping days in budding May,
More lovely in their tears,
Is she who, warm and soft as they,
A captive's fetters wears.
A simple tale of love is hers,
And on my subject bears.
More lovely in their tears,
Is she who, warm and soft as they,
A captive's fetters wears.
A simple tale of love is hers,
And on my subject bears.
Of gentle blood; her sire's sire,
A Refugee from France,
Had in the noble Condé's cause
Unfailing couched his lance.
His son now, sword in hand, beheld
St. George's flag advance.
A Refugee from France,
Had in the noble Condé's cause
Unfailing couched his lance.
His son now, sword in hand, beheld
St. George's flag advance.
One came; brave, generous, fair of form,
Strong armed to aid the weak;
They loved, bright Laura, brave Du Saye.
Love learneth soon to speak!
Why need I say she blushing gave
The hand none else might seek?
Strong armed to aid the weak;
They loved, bright Laura, brave Du Saye.
Love learneth soon to speak!
Why need I say she blushing gave
The hand none else might seek?
The day is set, the friends are met,
The priest in surplice stands;
The oaths are said, the prayers are read,
He joins their willing hands.
Lo! through the open portals swarm
The ruthless tory bands!
157
The oaths are said, the prayers are read,
He joins their willing hands.
Lo! through the open portals swarm
The ruthless tory bands!
Unarmed, beset, with frantic rage,
These struggle toward the door;
Borne in their midst, the bride. Their blood
Streams redly down the floor
In vain; across their faltering path,
The others furious pour.
These struggle toward the door;
Borne in their midst, the bride. Their blood
Streams redly down the floor
In vain; across their faltering path,
The others furious pour.
Fast ebbs their strength—back, back they reel
The dripping blades before.
Oh, for a rank of Rebel steel!
One volley—all is o'er:
Fast bleeds Du Saye at Laura's side;
He fell,—she knew no more.
The dripping blades before.
Oh, for a rank of Rebel steel!
One volley—all is o'er:
Fast bleeds Du Saye at Laura's side;
He fell,—she knew no more.
And now comes one with breathless haste,
And looks that fear denote.
“The Swamp-fox scents our trail,” he cries,
“Fly!—man with speed the boat.”
While yet he speaks, sounds from afar
A bugle's lengthen'd note.
And looks that fear denote.
“The Swamp-fox scents our trail,” he cries,
“Fly!—man with speed the boat.”
While yet he speaks, sounds from afar
A bugle's lengthen'd note.
Unconscious all, with lagging gait,
The rescuing squadron nears;
On flight intent the others throng
The wide piazza's stairs;
They gain the water's verge, their chief
The lifeless Laura bears.
The rescuing squadron nears;
On flight intent the others throng
The wide piazza's stairs;
They gain the water's verge, their chief
The lifeless Laura bears.
But keen-eyed Marion marked the crew,
And bid his men divide.
With fierce Horry in hot pursuit,
A score of troopers ride;
Too late they win the beach; the bark
Shoots swiftly down the tide.
And bid his men divide.
With fierce Horry in hot pursuit,
A score of troopers ride;
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Shoots swiftly down the tide.
Broad shines the blaze; with noisy mirth
Old forest rings around.
And all save grief is loud of tongue
Within the covert's bound.
Nor watch without the camp is there,
Nor wary sentry's round.
Old forest rings around.
And all save grief is loud of tongue
Within the covert's bound.
Nor watch without the camp is there,
Nor wary sentry's round.
2. PART SECOND.
Beyond the forest's giant growth
Soft smiles the morning sky;
Deep in the shade, the embers round,
The slumbering warriors lie:
Chafes in its bank the stream, as if
Its comrade old to fly.
Soft smiles the morning sky;
Deep in the shade, the embers round,
The slumbering warriors lie:
Chafes in its bank the stream, as if
Its comrade old to fly.
And forest leaf, and soldier's cloak,
And bank of russet hue;
And stately bough of cypress grey
The wave that seems to woo;
All sleep beneath the mantle fresh
Of summer's night-shed dew.
And bank of russet hue;
And stately bough of cypress grey
The wave that seems to woo;
All sleep beneath the mantle fresh
Of summer's night-shed dew.
Up darts a startled bird with wheel
Of wing, and warning note:
Beneath the nest-hung branch soft glides
A lightly rocking boat;
Close to the shore, the oar-man's grasp
Essays the skiff to float.
Of wing, and warning note:
Beneath the nest-hung branch soft glides
A lightly rocking boat;
Close to the shore, the oar-man's grasp
Essays the skiff to float.
And steppeth to the beach Du Saye,
Whom Marion's troop had found,
Stretched in his hall, and with rude skill
His recent wound had bound:
But love is aye the surest leech,
Revenge, the staunchest hound.
Whom Marion's troop had found,
Stretched in his hall, and with rude skill
His recent wound had bound:
159
Revenge, the staunchest hound.
A fox-skin cap, and huntsman's frock
Of grey, the other wore;
A hunter stout, whose swarthy cheek
The Indian's knife-scar bore:
With care he scanned the turf, as one
Well skilled in forest lore.
Of grey, the other wore;
A hunter stout, whose swarthy cheek
The Indian's knife-scar bore:
With care he scanned the turf, as one
Well skilled in forest lore.
“Hard by this swamp (he said) last eve
Their oozy footpath lay:
Not far from here their camp.—Yet long
Is Marion's toilsome way.
Thy heart is stout, thy arm is strong,
What need of longer stay!”
Their oozy footpath lay:
Not far from here their camp.—Yet long
Is Marion's toilsome way.
Thy heart is stout, thy arm is strong,
What need of longer stay!”
“Now,” cried Du Saye, and led the way,
“Thou well hast spoke my mind.”
Old forest's dusky mazes through
With noiseless step they wind.
They mark—they skirt the camp; apart
The heart-sick maid they find.
“Thou well hast spoke my mind.”
Old forest's dusky mazes through
With noiseless step they wind.
They mark—they skirt the camp; apart
The heart-sick maid they find.
Lightly the captive sleeps,—she wakes,
Du Saye kneels by her side:
“Arise,” he whispered soft, “and fly
With me, my own sweet bride.”
His stalwart arm supports her form,
Back to the grove they glide.
Du Saye kneels by her side:
“Arise,” he whispered soft, “and fly
With me, my own sweet bride.”
His stalwart arm supports her form,
Back to the grove they glide.
Lo! from the ground a sleeper springs—
Loud to each comrade calls:
Ere well the words are said, beneath
The hunter's knife he falls.
Huzza! thou gallant Eagle, who
The Lion's lair despoils!
Loud to each comrade calls:
Ere well the words are said, beneath
The hunter's knife he falls.
Huzza! thou gallant Eagle, who
The Lion's lair despoils!
As arméd men where Jason sowed,
Sprang up, so at the blow,
They wake—they shout—they arm in haste;
Fast in pursuit they go!
What may avail the Eagle, when
The woodsman bends his bow!
160
They wake—they shout—they arm in haste;
Fast in pursuit they go!
What may avail the Eagle, when
The woodsman bends his bow!
Yet, blade to blade, and foot to foot,
They sell their pathway dear:
On either hand the matted vines
Their stubborn bulwarks rear:
Behind, the river lifts his voice
Inviting still more near.
They sell their pathway dear:
On either hand the matted vines
Their stubborn bulwarks rear:
Behind, the river lifts his voice
Inviting still more near.
And foot to foot, and blade to blade,
The river's verge they gain,
As sudden from the swoll'n cloud
Down bursts the furious rain;
The straitened stream of baffled men
Outpoureth from the lane.
The river's verge they gain,
As sudden from the swoll'n cloud
Down bursts the furious rain;
The straitened stream of baffled men
Outpoureth from the lane.
The few behold the many now
Exulting round them wheel,
Straight to the bark, a gap they seek
To open with their steel;
But faint from loss of blood and toil,
With failing steps they reel.
Exulting round them wheel,
Straight to the bark, a gap they seek
To open with their steel;
But faint from loss of blood and toil,
With failing steps they reel.
Well had the night-dew served their cause
In drowning out the spark
Which slumbered, powder-cased, within
The rifle's chamber dark;
For hostile steel and flint in vain
Their latent light impart.
In drowning out the spark
Which slumbered, powder-cased, within
The rifle's chamber dark;
For hostile steel and flint in vain
Their latent light impart.
And now a blow the hunter stout
Hath dashed upon his knee;
His weeping bride pressed to his side,
His back against a tree,
Fierce stands Du Saye, at bay: a rock
Against a stormy sea!
Hath dashed upon his knee;
His weeping bride pressed to his side,
His back against a tree,
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Against a stormy sea!
The hunter falls. No hope survives
In Laura's bosom now;
Her arm around her lover cast,
Her hot lips press his brow.
Faint not in heart, brave partizan;
Who would not die as thou!
In Laura's bosom now;
Her arm around her lover cast,
Her hot lips press his brow.
Faint not in heart, brave partizan;
Who would not die as thou!
He feels the kiss: a hundred lives
Throb in each bursting vein;
He lifts—he bears—the river's marge
His flying footsteps stain;
Aghast the Riders shrink, or brave
The love-nerved arm in vain.
Throb in each bursting vein;
He lifts—he bears—the river's marge
His flying footsteps stain;
Aghast the Riders shrink, or brave
The love-nerved arm in vain.
Close to the bank, the fragile skiff
That dances on the tide,
With last convulsive bound he wins;
The straightened cords divide!
Far out upon the water's breast
With meteor's speed they glide.
That dances on the tide,
With last convulsive bound he wins;
The straightened cords divide!
Far out upon the water's breast
With meteor's speed they glide.
The gunwale dips—the boat drinks deep,
The currents chafe and roar,
Above their fair devoted heads
Ere yet the waters pour,
They see their kinsmen gallantly
Come spurring to the shore.
The currents chafe and roar,
Above their fair devoted heads
Ere yet the waters pour,
They see their kinsmen gallantly
Come spurring to the shore.
Crash—crash, the shrubs are trampled down,
The boughs are bent aside;
Forth from the dreary forest's frown
A rank of horsemen ride.
Tall, dauntless, dark, his restless steed,
Each trooper sits astride.
The boughs are bent aside;
Forth from the dreary forest's frown
A rank of horsemen ride.
Tall, dauntless, dark, his restless steed,
Each trooper sits astride.
Their chief commands; the horsemen wheel,
At once in circle wide,
Around the foe: on either hand
The rapid waters glide;
Nor space is there for flight, nor yet
Dark coppice where to hide.
162
Around the foe: on either hand
The rapid waters glide;
Nor space is there for flight, nor yet
Dark coppice where to hide.
But Marion, in whose manly breast
All kindly virtues were,
Would fain the lives within his grasp
And wasteful bloodshed spare;
When from their line a bullet-shot
Close hisseth past his ear.
All kindly virtues were,
Would fain the lives within his grasp
And wasteful bloodshed spare;
When from their line a bullet-shot
Close hisseth past his ear.
With unmoved eye the chieftain glanced
Along his circling band;
Impatient paws the steed beneath
Each trooper's swarthy hand.
He spoke; like tempest-breath they sweep
Athwart the narrow strand!
Along his circling band;
Impatient paws the steed beneath
Each trooper's swarthy hand.
He spoke; like tempest-breath they sweep
Athwart the narrow strand!
And all is rage, revenge, and fear,
And shout and answering groan;
Down trampling hoof, and flash and shout,
And shot at random thrown:
Till to the river's blood-tracked beach
The remnant faint is borne.
And shout and answering groan;
Down trampling hoof, and flash and shout,
And shot at random thrown:
Till to the river's blood-tracked beach
The remnant faint is borne.
Some cry for quarter, and receive
The mercy which they gave;
Or, struggling with the stream awhile,
But find a slower grave.
A few are Britons, and these die
As soldiers trained and brave.
The mercy which they gave;
Or, struggling with the stream awhile,
But find a slower grave.
A few are Britons, and these die
As soldiers trained and brave.
The skirmish past, two troopers swim
Near to the shore their steeds,
And launch the fatal bark that lies
Embedded in the reeds;
Nor bride nor groom of yester morn
The other's pressure heeds.
Near to the shore their steeds,
And launch the fatal bark that lies
Embedded in the reeds;
163
The other's pressure heeds.
Apart from where the charge had been,
They lay them gently down;
Above their heads the cypress dark,
Sun-lit, unbends his frown:
Dew weeps the stilly morn afar;
The river's plaintive sound.
They lay them gently down;
Above their heads the cypress dark,
Sun-lit, unbends his frown:
Dew weeps the stilly morn afar;
The river's plaintive sound.
The soft young cheek, the silken curl
That on the bosom lies;
The chill, damp brow of him who was
To her life's dearest prize;
The chieftain looks upon, and tears
Stand in the soldier's eyes.
That on the bosom lies;
The chill, damp brow of him who was
To her life's dearest prize;
The chieftain looks upon, and tears
Stand in the soldier's eyes.
183
ENCHANTMENTS
AH! well I call to mind that eve,
That witching eve, thou dear Wihlmene;
The garden seat, the stilly night,
The moon's pale, falling, quivering light,
That stole the leaves between.
That witching eve, thou dear Wihlmene;
The garden seat, the stilly night,
The moon's pale, falling, quivering light,
That stole the leaves between.
Fain had I fled, yet could not flee
From thee, Enchantress that thou art:
My will was bound, my tongue was mute,
Thy Upas love took deadly root
Within my fluttering heart.
From thee, Enchantress that thou art:
My will was bound, my tongue was mute,
Thy Upas love took deadly root
Within my fluttering heart.
Offtimes thou lookedst into mine,
With thy deep wondrous pleading eyes:
Deceive me not, I said, and smiled:
Where Venus reigns supreme, dear child,
Minerva is not wise!
With thy deep wondrous pleading eyes:
Deceive me not, I said, and smiled:
Where Venus reigns supreme, dear child,
Minerva is not wise!
And afterward, when on my hand
Thy cheek soft pressed, what fiery thrill
Leaped through my veins; and, as the sea,
Swept former footprints off—Ah me!
My very heart stood still.
Thy cheek soft pressed, what fiery thrill
Leaped through my veins; and, as the sea,
Swept former footprints off—Ah me!
My very heart stood still.
Since then, like Scaevola am I—
My left hand all to me remains;
For that thou breathedst on, so great
Has grown in worth, the right, its mate,
No value now retains.
My left hand all to me remains;
For that thou breathedst on, so great
Has grown in worth, the right, its mate,
No value now retains.
238
TO THE “SWEETEST ROSE OF GEORGIA”
SWEET, these cares will touch me lightly,
If that gentle face of thine
Wears no shadow. Only brightly
Let the old affection shine
From thine eye, and thou shalt see
How strong my heart can be!
If that gentle face of thine
Wears no shadow. Only brightly
Let the old affection shine
From thine eye, and thou shalt see
How strong my heart can be!
Pray thee, dream not that disaster
You and me can come between,
O'er my heart I am no master
When thou art no longer queen.
False though to myself I be,
Faithfullest to thee.
You and me can come between,
O'er my heart I am no master
When thou art no longer queen.
False though to myself I be,
Faithfullest to thee.
If of tears or sorrow, often
I unwitting cause have been,
This thy indignation soften,
This, oh love, sufficient screen,
Be, for my offenses such—
That I loved too much!
I unwitting cause have been,
This thy indignation soften,
This, oh love, sufficient screen,
Be, for my offenses such—
That I loved too much!
(Hush! who spoke of indignation?
Was it I upon whose breast
She is wont with dear persuasion
In her happy eyes, to rest?
Surely, all that woman may,
She hath given me.)
Was it I upon whose breast
She is wont with dear persuasion
In her happy eyes, to rest?
Surely, all that woman may,
She hath given me.)
239
Were thy lashes wet with weeping,
Flushed with joy or pale from fear,
Nay, upon death's threshold sleeping
Even,—drew my footsteps near
Would thy bosom beating faster
Hail its master!
Flushed with joy or pale from fear,
Nay, upon death's threshold sleeping
Even,—drew my footsteps near
Would thy bosom beating faster
Hail its master!
Mine, aye mine, for ever!—Only
God can render thee less dear:
He, alone, can make thee lonely,
With a petrified despair
In thy looks—Oh, let us pray,
That He never may!
God can render thee less dear:
He, alone, can make thee lonely,
With a petrified despair
In thy looks—Oh, let us pray,
That He never may!
S. Carolina.
240
MAIZE IN TASSEL
THE blades of maize are broad and green,
The farm-roof scarcely shows between
The long and softly rustling rows
Through which the farmer homeward goes.
The blue smoke curling through the trees,
The children round their mother's knees,
He sees, and thanks God while he sees.
The farm-roof scarcely shows between
The long and softly rustling rows
Through which the farmer homeward goes.
The blue smoke curling through the trees,
The children round their mother's knees,
He sees, and thanks God while he sees.
He holds one in his sturdy hands
Aloft, when at the threshold stands
(None noticed whence)—a stranger. “Dame,”
The stranger said, as half with shame
He made request: “astray and poor,
By hunger guided to your door
I”—“Hush,” she answered, “say no more!”
Aloft, when at the threshold stands
(None noticed whence)—a stranger. “Dame,”
The stranger said, as half with shame
He made request: “astray and poor,
By hunger guided to your door
I”—“Hush,” she answered, “say no more!”
The farmer set the prattler down
(Soft heart, although his hands were brown!).
With words of welcome brought and poured
Cool water from the spring: the board
The wife set out. What mellow light
Made the mean hovel's walls as white
As snow!—how sweet their bread that night!
(Soft heart, although his hands were brown!).
With words of welcome brought and poured
Cool water from the spring: the board
The wife set out. What mellow light
Made the mean hovel's walls as white
As snow!—how sweet their bread that night!
Long while their humble lot had been
To dwell with Poverty: between
Them all one pallet and a bed
Were shared. But to the latter led
The guest in peaceful slumber lay,
While, with what broken sleep they may,
The dame and host await the day.
To dwell with Poverty: between
Them all one pallet and a bed
Were shared. But to the latter led
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While, with what broken sleep they may,
The dame and host await the day.
So passed the night. At length the dawn
Arrived, and showed the stranger gone.
To none had e'er been closed their door
Who asked for alms,—yet none before
Had so much lacked in courtesy.
So spoke the wife.—Her husband, he
Sat musing by most anxiously,
Arrived, and showed the stranger gone.
To none had e'er been closed their door
Who asked for alms,—yet none before
Had so much lacked in courtesy.
So spoke the wife.—Her husband, he
Sat musing by most anxiously,
Of sterner need. A drought that year
Prevailed, and though the corn in ear
Began to swell, must perish all
Unless a kindly rain should fall.
God send it straight!—or toil from morn
To eve, the hoard of buried corn,
Aye, food itself, were lost and gone.
Prevailed, and though the corn in ear
Began to swell, must perish all
Unless a kindly rain should fall.
God send it straight!—or toil from morn
To eve, the hoard of buried corn,
Aye, food itself, were lost and gone.
Such thoughts now bring him to the door,
Perchance some cloud sails up before
The morning breeze. None—none; in vain
His eyes explore the blue again:
With sighs to earth returns his gaze.
Ha!—what is here?—to God be praise!
See, see the glad drops on the maize!
Perchance some cloud sails up before
The morning breeze. None—none; in vain
His eyes explore the blue again:
With sighs to earth returns his gaze.
Ha!—what is here?—to God be praise!
See, see the glad drops on the maize!
No mist had dimmed the night, and yet
The furrows all lay soft and wet
As if with frequent showers; nay
More—all bloom that shuns the day,
And tassel tall and ear and blade,
With heavy drops were downward weighed,
And a swift stream the pathway frayed.
The furrows all lay soft and wet
As if with frequent showers; nay
More—all bloom that shuns the day,
And tassel tall and ear and blade,
With heavy drops were downward weighed,
And a swift stream the pathway frayed.
Long while might I prolong this strain,
Relating thence how great his gain:
How he who held not from the poor,
Now saw his corncribs running o'er.
And how his riches grew amain,
And on his hillside ripened grain
When parched was that within the plain.
Relating thence how great his gain:
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Now saw his corncribs running o'er.
And how his riches grew amain,
And on his hillside ripened grain
When parched was that within the plain.
But who the guest was of that night
Conjecture thou—I dare not write.
We know that angels with the mien
Of men, of men the guests have been:
That he who giveth to the poor
Lends to the Lord. (I am not sure—)
The promise here deep meaning bore.
Conjecture thou—I dare not write.
We know that angels with the mien
Of men, of men the guests have been:
That he who giveth to the poor
Lends to the Lord. (I am not sure—)
The promise here deep meaning bore.
South Carolina.
243
THE RUSTIC SEAT
COOL twilight shrouds the wooded hill,
As here the narrow street:
Its shadows urge thee from the rill
Meandering at thy feet.
As here the narrow street:
Its shadows urge thee from the rill
Meandering at thy feet.
The over-arching branches still
Enclose thee in their shade,
Where once my hands, with rustic skill.
A seat of branches made.
Enclose thee in their shade,
Where once my hands, with rustic skill.
A seat of branches made.
A long, long day of happiness,
(Yet scarce begun ere gone,)
While you stood by the work to bless
With eyes that smiled thereon.
(Yet scarce begun ere gone,)
While you stood by the work to bless
With eyes that smiled thereon.
A pleasant song the streamlet sung;
While in the still retreat,
The gnarled and mossy roots among,
We hollowed out the seat.
While in the still retreat,
The gnarled and mossy roots among,
We hollowed out the seat.
Quaint oaken boughs, trained to protrude
For arms, and where inclines
The musing head, a cushion rude
Of interwoven vines.
For arms, and where inclines
The musing head, a cushion rude
Of interwoven vines.
With happy eyes that wondered oft,
“When would it be complete?”
You knelt upon a couch of soft
Brown foliage at my feet;
“When would it be complete?”
You knelt upon a couch of soft
Brown foliage at my feet;
244
Or, seated in the open sun
Amidst the holly trees,
With earnest face bent down upon
The book upon thy knees.
Amidst the holly trees,
With earnest face bent down upon
The book upon thy knees.
Withal, not many leaves that day
Were turned in book of thine,
So often went thy looks astray
In loving search of mine!
Were turned in book of thine,
So often went thy looks astray
In loving search of mine!
And when the work was all complete,
And I sat down to rest,
Relinquishing your former seat,
You nestled to my breast.
And I sat down to rest,
Relinquishing your former seat,
You nestled to my breast.
I mind me well—the sun went down
Behind a wooded hill,
The dusky autumn, forest brown,
More dusky grew and chill:
Behind a wooded hill,
The dusky autumn, forest brown,
More dusky grew and chill:
And when you shivered with the cold,
Around you, (nothing loth,)
I drew my cloak, whose ample fold
Enclosed and warmed us both.
Around you, (nothing loth,)
I drew my cloak, whose ample fold
Enclosed and warmed us both.
It was a privilege of eld,
Long into habit grown,
That closely to my bosom held,
You should be styled “my own.”
Long into habit grown,
That closely to my bosom held,
You should be styled “my own.”
And now, so from the world apart,
Thy rest was doubly sweet:—
“Thank God!” could only say your heart,
“Thanks! Thanks!” at every beat.
Thy rest was doubly sweet:—
“Thank God!” could only say your heart,
“Thanks! Thanks!” at every beat.
245
A SONG FOR “THE ROSE”
THERE are leaves in the forest,
And bloom on the plain,
And the swallows return
To the cottage again.
And my darling and pet
Has forgotten her sighs,
By the blush on her cheek
And the light in her eyes.
And bloom on the plain,
And the swallows return
To the cottage again.
And my darling and pet
Has forgotten her sighs,
By the blush on her cheek
And the light in her eyes.
But the blossoms were gone
And the scent from the gale,
And the hawberries hung
In long clusters and pale,
And the screen of dark firs
Barred the red in the West,
When last her fair temples
Were leaned on my breast.
And the scent from the gale,
And the hawberries hung
In long clusters and pale,
And the screen of dark firs
Barred the red in the West,
When last her fair temples
Were leaned on my breast.
From the brow of the steep
Overlooking the vale,
How blue the far hills,
And how balmy the gale
That rocked the tall pines
At the feet of my queen;
Like chords of great harps
Which her voice moved between.
Overlooking the vale,
How blue the far hills,
And how balmy the gale
That rocked the tall pines
At the feet of my queen;
Like chords of great harps
Which her voice moved between.
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How still were the woodlands!
I heard the wet leaves
Drip fresh from the shower,
And under the eaves
The tittering swallows,
And from the cool dells
The kine wending homeward
With tinkling of bells.
I heard the wet leaves
Drip fresh from the shower,
And under the eaves
The tittering swallows,
And from the cool dells
The kine wending homeward
With tinkling of bells.
“Ah, peace!” my heart said then;
And “Thanks be to God!”
That this green-fringéd path is
No longer untrod
By the feet I love best.
Yet the words half belied
The deep joy in my breast,
When abruptly I cried;
And “Thanks be to God!”
That this green-fringéd path is
No longer untrod
By the feet I love best.
Yet the words half belied
The deep joy in my breast,
When abruptly I cried;
“It is you with your brown eyes
That haunt all my dreams!
Do you think I've no joy
In the flowing of streams,
In the singing of birds,
In the flights of wild-bees,
In the voices that moan
In the tops of these trees?
That haunt all my dreams!
Do you think I've no joy
In the flowing of streams,
In the singing of birds,
In the flights of wild-bees,
In the voices that moan
In the tops of these trees?
“That you move my whole soul
With the love in your looks,
Saying lovelier things
Than are written in books;
Yes, in all my pet-books.
Is it so?—that I'm thine
For aye; and thy being
Cöeval with mine?”
With the love in your looks,
Saying lovelier things
Than are written in books;
Yes, in all my pet-books.
Is it so?—that I'm thine
For aye; and thy being
Cöeval with mine?”
And for answer, she only
Drew closer my heart,
So happy, so quiet,
So loved, so apart
From the stir and the tumult!
Oh happiest fate,
Where the head found a rest,
And the spirit a mate.
247
So happy, so quiet,
So loved, so apart
From the stir and the tumult!
Oh happiest fate,
Where the head found a rest,
And the spirit a mate.
Aiken, S.C., 1848.
248
THE TROUVÉRE'S ROSE
ONE sunny day in Angouléme,
While with an open book on knee,
I sat and mused of love, there came
A servant of my lord to me.
Sir poet—spake he sans delay,
My seigneur would thy skill essay.
Then I went with him willingly.
While with an open book on knee,
I sat and mused of love, there came
A servant of my lord to me.
Sir poet—spake he sans delay,
My seigneur would thy skill essay.
Then I went with him willingly.
My lord was in the castle court.
Quoth he—“My lady here will bide,
And yon unseemly wall and moat,
To do her pleasure, I would hide
With roses fair, for these have won
Her love of all.” It shall be done
To please my lady, I replied.
Quoth he—“My lady here will bide,
And yon unseemly wall and moat,
To do her pleasure, I would hide
With roses fair, for these have won
Her love of all.” It shall be done
To please my lady, I replied.
I chose to climb the eastern wall,
A vine whereof the blossoms were
In size the chiefest of them all,
That from below they might appear
Among their leaves; yet void of scent
Because that thither none e'er went,
Save birds that wanton in the air.
A vine whereof the blossoms were
In size the chiefest of them all,
That from below they might appear
Among their leaves; yet void of scent
Because that thither none e'er went,
Save birds that wanton in the air.
And for the moat a thorny hedge,
But with gay flowers overspread,
I set along the nearer edge,
That if unwary hand were led
To pluck the bloom, the thorns might be
Sufficient guard, lest suddenly
The slime should swallow up his tread.
But with gay flowers overspread,
I set along the nearer edge,
That if unwary hand were led
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Sufficient guard, lest suddenly
The slime should swallow up his tread.
Well pleased, my lord surveyed my care,
Then smiling courteously—“Meseems,”
He said, “a lady debonnaire,
When freshly wakened from her dreams,
She seeks her casement, there should find
The flower most she loves entwined.
Now choose me that which sweetest seems.”
Then smiling courteously—“Meseems,”
He said, “a lady debonnaire,
When freshly wakened from her dreams,
She seeks her casement, there should find
The flower most she loves entwined.
Now choose me that which sweetest seems.”
Then at my lady's casement low,
To welcome her and dewy day,
I taught an humble rose to blow,
Which was not large, nor tall, nor gay,
As choicer bloom, but passing sweet,
So that, methinks, the very feet
That bruised it, fragrant went away.
To welcome her and dewy day,
I taught an humble rose to blow,
Which was not large, nor tall, nor gay,
As choicer bloom, but passing sweet,
So that, methinks, the very feet
That bruised it, fragrant went away.
And when my lady came in state,
All other flowers passed she by,
And coming to her casement straight,
Led thither by that perfume high,
“This, truly,” cried she, “love I best!”
And my meek flower on her breast
Beneath a jewelled brooch did lie.
All other flowers passed she by,
And coming to her casement straight,
Led thither by that perfume high,
“This, truly,” cried she, “love I best!”
And my meek flower on her breast
Beneath a jewelled brooch did lie.
This action pleased me, and I said,
In courtly phrase of troubadour,
Aye, lady mine, the highest head
Is not the dearest loved, be sure—
Nor blooming cheek, nor snowy breast,
Can win a true heart, unpossessed
Of sweetnesses that go before.
In courtly phrase of troubadour,
Aye, lady mine, the highest head
Is not the dearest loved, be sure—
Nor blooming cheek, nor snowy breast,
Can win a true heart, unpossessed
Of sweetnesses that go before.
For I was thinking all the while
Of mine own rose, whose soft brown eyes
Of carking care my days beguile.
And well I know, though these despise
Her sweetness as unworth award,
Upon his breast a wiser Lord
Will bear her fragrance to his skies.
Of mine own rose, whose soft brown eyes
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And well I know, though these despise
Her sweetness as unworth award,
Upon his breast a wiser Lord
Will bear her fragrance to his skies.
Aiken, S.C.
251
THE SWORD AND PALETTE
A ROMAUNT
[I]
SIR Alvar in the joust no more
Triumphant lifts his lance,
Nor blooming lips, nor bookish lore,
Can win him from his trance.
Triumphant lifts his lance,
Nor blooming lips, nor bookish lore,
Can win him from his trance.
Lo, through the wood, with heart that grieves,
My seigneur paces lone;
He hears the sadly sighing leaves,
The wood-dove's plaintive moan.
My seigneur paces lone;
He hears the sadly sighing leaves,
The wood-dove's plaintive moan.
Crossed are his arms upon his breast,
Where nestles night and day
A vision, blue-eyed, golden-tressed,
That steals his peace away.
Where nestles night and day
A vision, blue-eyed, golden-tressed,
That steals his peace away.
“And who is she so debonair,
Beyond our fairest dames,
That yonder page's blunted spear
Our seigneur's prowess shames?”
Beyond our fairest dames,
That yonder page's blunted spear
Our seigneur's prowess shames?”
Your courtly dames, like jewels strung,
May courtly praises win:
The sweetest of our songs are sung
To Lilias of the Lynn.
May courtly praises win:
The sweetest of our songs are sung
To Lilias of the Lynn.
Once royal Charles at banquet deigned
To hear my simple lays:
The burthen of my song unfeigned
Was still my Lilias' praise.
To hear my simple lays:
The burthen of my song unfeigned
Was still my Lilias' praise.
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But when I sang how lowly born
Was she, a limner's child,
Methought with mingled pride and scorn
The jewelled circle smiled.
Was she, a limner's child,
Methought with mingled pride and scorn
The jewelled circle smiled.
Oh, be the queenly rose his boast
That bears a haughty crest;
I love the lowly blossom most
That suits a russet vest.
That bears a haughty crest;
I love the lowly blossom most
That suits a russet vest.
II
It was the gray old painter, Mhand,
That stroked her radiant head;
He held his mall-stick in his hand,
And painted while she read.
That stroked her radiant head;
He held his mall-stick in his hand,
And painted while she read.
The quaint, black-letter, old romance
She read, propped on her knee,
Of old Sir Hubert's brazen lance
That did the work of three.
She read, propped on her knee,
Of old Sir Hubert's brazen lance
That did the work of three.
Of how Sir Guy, with cross on sleeve,
In anger crossed the seas;
And left the faithless Maud to grieve
On penitential knees.
In anger crossed the seas;
And left the faithless Maud to grieve
On penitential knees.
How county Lisle, in witless pride,
Misnamed his people “swine,”
And how by swinish tusks he died
When overcome with wine.
Misnamed his people “swine,”
And how by swinish tusks he died
When overcome with wine.
And of the tourneys good king John
Held in the open field;
And of the couplet Giles of Bonn
Bore ever on his shield.
Held in the open field;
And of the couplet Giles of Bonn
Bore ever on his shield.
But more than all these gorgeous dreams
Those legends golden were,
Wherein nor strife nor warlike gleams
Disturbed her soul with fear.
Those legends golden were,
Wherein nor strife nor warlike gleams
Disturbed her soul with fear.
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Wherein from courts the noble came
To woo the lowly breast;
Her parted lips scarce breathed the name
Her fluttering heart confessed.
To woo the lowly breast;
Her parted lips scarce breathed the name
Her fluttering heart confessed.
III
Ofttimes and grim old Maller-Mhand
His mall-staff shook aloft;
“Who rides a tilt to gain thy hand,
Must be no lisper soft.
His mall-staff shook aloft;
“Who rides a tilt to gain thy hand,
Must be no lisper soft.
“Beshrew thy Baron's coat of mail;
I love one of mine craft!”
Fair Lilias' cheek waxed red and pale
The while her sire laughed.
I love one of mine craft!”
Fair Lilias' cheek waxed red and pale
The while her sire laughed.
Him seeking, haughty Alvar came
As one unused to plea:
I wot, from Languèdoc to Maine
No braver was than he!
As one unused to plea:
I wot, from Languèdoc to Maine
No braver was than he!
“Sir Painter,” Alvar courteous spoke,
Beneath the painter's roof;
“In vain a heart of stubborn oak
I guard with armor proof.
Beneath the painter's roof;
“In vain a heart of stubborn oak
I guard with armor proof.
“But yestermorn, in open lists,
My lance achieved the prize;
Their jewelled hands our ladies kissed,
I only sought her eyes.
My lance achieved the prize;
Their jewelled hands our ladies kissed,
I only sought her eyes.
“It chafed me sore, my queen should bide
Among ignoble dames:
Let shield-of-eight and courtship wide
Henceforth assert her claims.”
Among ignoble dames:
Let shield-of-eight and courtship wide
Henceforth assert her claims.”
IV
Loud laughed in scorn old Maller-Mhand,
Loud laughed and curled his beard:
“He comes with mall-stick in his hand
Who woos the Golden-haired.
Loud laughed and curled his beard:
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Who woos the Golden-haired.
“Thy breast, steel-clad, is all too cold
To rest such tender head;
Pale were thy boasted heaps of gold
Beside its lightest shred.
To rest such tender head;
Pale were thy boasted heaps of gold
Beside its lightest shred.
“I scorn thy braggart deeds of might,
The wolf that slays the lamb.
Blood flecks thy knightly mantle white,
And soils thy lordly palm.
The wolf that slays the lamb.
Blood flecks thy knightly mantle white,
And soils thy lordly palm.
“Go,—on thy wrist, in lieu of bird,
A palette perch—then come.”
—Amazed the haughty noble heard,
With shame and anger dumb.
A palette perch—then come.”
—Amazed the haughty noble heard,
With shame and anger dumb.
Then, frowning, spoke: “Are knightly hands
To serve for such as thou?
Know, dotard, nobles reap the lands,
Your peasant holds the plough.
To serve for such as thou?
Know, dotard, nobles reap the lands,
Your peasant holds the plough.
“Ill suits thy cloak of clownish red,
The pearl it would conceal!”
With scornful insolence he said,
And turned upon his heel.
The pearl it would conceal!”
With scornful insolence he said,
And turned upon his heel.
“Ha! Lilias! what evil chance,
Has led thee to this place?”
His rage went out, so piteously,
The tears ran down her face.
Has led thee to this place?”
His rage went out, so piteously,
The tears ran down her face.
The sorrow that her eyes replied
Pierced his stout cuirass through,
And all his panoply of pride
Triumphant love o'erthrew.
Pierced his stout cuirass through,
And all his panoply of pride
Triumphant love o'erthrew.
“Oh Lilias, my only love,
How can I less than yield?
This morn above a mourning dove
At fault my gos-hawk wheeled.
How can I less than yield?
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At fault my gos-hawk wheeled.
“The augury I sought to trace
I gather in thy sighs.”
—He held her in a close embrace,
Then vanished from her eyes.
I gather in thy sighs.”
—He held her in a close embrace,
Then vanished from her eyes.
I know some angel, glad and bright,
Her chamber entered in,
So joyous were the dreams that night
Of Lilias of the Lynn.
Her chamber entered in,
So joyous were the dreams that night
Of Lilias of the Lynn.
But through the wood, with heart that grieves,
Sir Alvar, pacing lone,
Hears overhead the sighing leaves,
And night owl's boding moan.
Sir Alvar, pacing lone,
Hears overhead the sighing leaves,
And night owl's boding moan.
V
Oh, happy spring-time of the heart,
When love is daily food,
Through which are dangers counted naught,
And difficulties woo'd!
When love is daily food,
Through which are dangers counted naught,
And difficulties woo'd!
Where rose in ancient Roman time
Imperial Caesar's throne,
As stranger from some northern clime
Was lordly Alvar known.
Imperial Caesar's throne,
As stranger from some northern clime
Was lordly Alvar known.
No more his knightly deeds command
The lists, his shield advanced:
Before the easel, staff in hand,
The painter stood entranced.
The lists, his shield advanced:
Before the easel, staff in hand,
The painter stood entranced.
In lieu of hawk, a palette graced
His wrist, of polished wood:
In lieu of glittering train, pale-faced,
Behind the MASTER stood.
His wrist, of polished wood:
In lieu of glittering train, pale-faced,
Behind the MASTER stood.
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Much mused the Fra Bartolemè
This marvel to construe,
That under cowl of monkish gray
Lurked eyes of tender blue.
This marvel to construe,
That under cowl of monkish gray
Lurked eyes of tender blue.
And Magdalen within the wood
As northern maids was fair:
And choirs of bright angels stood,
Each crowned with golden hair.
As northern maids was fair:
And choirs of bright angels stood,
Each crowned with golden hair.
Sweet Lilias, the guiding thought,
His pencil still confessed;
While, looking inwardly, he wrought
The vision in his breast.
His pencil still confessed;
While, looking inwardly, he wrought
The vision in his breast.
VI
Swift glide the months to years,
Which patient labors claim:
And once again Sir Alvar wears
The recompense of fame.
Which patient labors claim:
And once again Sir Alvar wears
The recompense of fame.
Now, while the wreath the painting crowned
The victor paced apart:
His eyes, fond-musing, sought the ground
While rambling with his heart:
The victor paced apart:
His eyes, fond-musing, sought the ground
While rambling with his heart:
Saw, at the bending of the road,
The blue Rhine reäppear;
And how, through trellised vineyards, showed
The roof that held his fair.
The blue Rhine reäppear;
And how, through trellised vineyards, showed
The roof that held his fair.
“Ah, Lilias, my only love,
How can I less than yield?”
Came sweetly to his ear above
The clang of listed field.
How can I less than yield?”
Came sweetly to his ear above
The clang of listed field.
“And lives she for his bosom's pride—
To none her charms resigned?”
“Peace, dreamer!” quick his love replied,
And left all doubt behind.
To none her charms resigned?”
“Peace, dreamer!” quick his love replied,
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While thus his grateful fancies ran,
Like hillside waters sweet—
To thirsty souls that pause to scan
The valley at their feet;
Like hillside waters sweet—
To thirsty souls that pause to scan
The valley at their feet;
Nearer, along the corridor
A maid and sire strayed,
Until the pendant wreath before
Their noiseless feet delayed.
A maid and sire strayed,
Until the pendant wreath before
Their noiseless feet delayed.
High on the wall the chaplet hung,
And Alvar's toil below;
The tale an ancient poet sung,
On canvass taught to glow.
And Alvar's toil below;
The tale an ancient poet sung,
On canvass taught to glow.
In smiling light Arcadia lay
Green sloping in her hills;
Burst from the mossy rocks and grey,
Innumerable rills.
Green sloping in her hills;
Burst from the mossy rocks and grey,
Innumerable rills.
Yet swifter than the brook could flee,
With panting bosom fled
Young Daphnè; supplicatingly
Her little hands she spread.
With panting bosom fled
Young Daphnè; supplicatingly
Her little hands she spread.
Silenus hears. With laurel bark
Her tender limbs compressed:
The broad and glossy leaves surround
Her palpitating breast.
Her tender limbs compressed:
The broad and glossy leaves surround
Her palpitating breast.
But through the interlacing shade
Of slender stems, appear
Blue eyes, and oft a golden braid
Of long and loosened hair.
Of slender stems, appear
Blue eyes, and oft a golden braid
Of long and loosened hair.
Amazed and mute the father spied
His Lilias portrayed;
In place of kirtle, white and wide,
In leafy robes arrayed.
His Lilias portrayed;
258
In leafy robes arrayed.
Amazed and fluttered stood his child,
And, with a maiden art,
Concealed with folded hands the wild,
Loud beating of her heart.
And, with a maiden art,
Concealed with folded hands the wild,
Loud beating of her heart.
Then, yielding to the inward strife,
Between her falling tears,
She cried aloud, “My lord—my life!”
—Oh music to his ears!
Between her falling tears,
She cried aloud, “My lord—my life!”
—Oh music to his ears!
She stood in garments wide and white,
Blue-eyed and golden-tressed;
She stood and blessed his raptured sight,
Her burning love confessed.
Blue-eyed and golden-tressed;
She stood and blessed his raptured sight,
Her burning love confessed.
No longer Fatherland had charms
To woo him from the South:
He held her in his circling arms,
And kissed her, mouth to mouth.
To woo him from the South:
He held her in his circling arms,
And kissed her, mouth to mouth.
And as the mariners distressed,
In haven safe, display
Their penons all—upon his breast
With smiling face she lay.
In haven safe, display
Their penons all—upon his breast
With smiling face she lay.
—Now out upon that demon owl
That boded in the wood;
That well nigh drove to monkish cowl
A noble soul and good!
That boded in the wood;
That well nigh drove to monkish cowl
A noble soul and good!
But said I not some angel bright
Her chamber entered in,
When sweetest visions came that night
To Lilias of the Lynn.
Her chamber entered in,
When sweetest visions came that night
To Lilias of the Lynn.
259
TO JASMINES IN DECEMBER
YOUNG jessamines that bloom as sweet
As if it now were May,
Though crisp brown leaves beneath the feet
Hide all the forest way,
I pray you soft my darling greet,
And in her bosom say:
As if it now were May,
Though crisp brown leaves beneath the feet
Hide all the forest way,
I pray you soft my darling greet,
And in her bosom say:
Bloom freshly on, thou sister fair,
While pleasant Spring remains,
And while the Autumn's yellow hair
Is plaited thick with grains;
For soon will Winter, white and drear,
Encamp upon these plains.
While pleasant Spring remains,
And while the Autumn's yellow hair
Is plaited thick with grains;
For soon will Winter, white and drear,
Encamp upon these plains.
But if thou art not, Love, inclined
To perish with the rest,
When birds may scarce warm shelter find,
Then blossom out thy best.
And surely one true heart I'll find
To wear thee on his breast.
To perish with the rest,
When birds may scarce warm shelter find,
Then blossom out thy best.
And surely one true heart I'll find
To wear thee on his breast.
And for thy perfume's sake, unstirred
He'll front the icy sleet,
The icy sleet of worldly words,
And gather round his feet
In fancy, Spring again, and birds
With carols high and sweet.
He'll front the icy sleet,
The icy sleet of worldly words,
And gather round his feet
In fancy, Spring again, and birds
With carols high and sweet.
260
Yes, make his winter mild again,
And bring him back his May,
And though in prison cell, all men
Will envy him the day.
Not fetters, but a sceptre!—then
The baffled crowds will say.
And bring him back his May,
And though in prison cell, all men
Will envy him the day.
Not fetters, but a sceptre!—then
The baffled crowds will say.
Aiken, S.C., 1848.
261
A LAUREL BLOSSOM
THE broad and glossy leaves surround
The laurel blossoms fair,
Like ivory young temples bound
With shining bands of hair.
And says the flower naught to thee
Who art its sister, dear?
The laurel blossoms fair,
Like ivory young temples bound
With shining bands of hair.
And says the flower naught to thee
Who art its sister, dear?
Nay, nay, see, love, the flower's mute,
She uttered with a smile.
Speak thou. My heart with softest lute
Shall answer thee the while,
And sure no touching of thy hand
Can any cord defile.
She uttered with a smile.
Speak thou. My heart with softest lute
Shall answer thee the while,
And sure no touching of thy hand
Can any cord defile.
Ah, love, I said, thy loveliness
Will fade away and die.
For see thy little feet they press
The bloom that was so high.
Yea, this fair cheek that warms to mine
With meanest things will lie.
Will fade away and die.
For see thy little feet they press
The bloom that was so high.
Yea, this fair cheek that warms to mine
With meanest things will lie.
Then bending forward to elude
My gaze, I know indeed,
She said with utterance subdued,
That through the portals low and yewed
My spirit will be freed.
But is there naught more high and sweet,
My poet, in thy creed?
My gaze, I know indeed,
She said with utterance subdued,
That through the portals low and yewed
My spirit will be freed.
But is there naught more high and sweet,
My poet, in thy creed?
262
And now her eyes came swiftly up
With brimming love to mine.
Oh friend, as you would drain a cup
Of generous Rhenish wine,
I drank from out those shaded wells;
Tarns fringed around with pine.
With brimming love to mine.
Oh friend, as you would drain a cup
Of generous Rhenish wine,
I drank from out those shaded wells;
Tarns fringed around with pine.
Then fervently; Yes, thanks to God,
Thou canst not wholly die,
Though underneath the sloping sod,
Meek kisser of the lifted rod,
Thy winning ways all lie.
Fade young May bloom; fresh spread the leaves
That brave the wintry sky.
Thou canst not wholly die,
Though underneath the sloping sod,
Meek kisser of the lifted rod,
Thy winning ways all lie.
Fade young May bloom; fresh spread the leaves
That brave the wintry sky.
Until the lord of all this wood
With Godlike mouth shall say to thee;
“Well done, thou servant wise and good.”
Yes, deathless spirit at my knee,
Himself the dear Lord whom we love,
With Godlike mouth shall speak to thee.
With Godlike mouth shall say to thee;
“Well done, thou servant wise and good.”
Yes, deathless spirit at my knee,
Himself the dear Lord whom we love,
With Godlike mouth shall speak to thee.
Aiken, March 11th.
263
BALD GRAS ICH
From the Wunderhorn (German)
I.
“I MOW by the Neckar,
And reap by the Rhine:
I own a heart's treasure
Yet lonely I pine.
And reap by the Rhine:
I own a heart's treasure
Yet lonely I pine.
“What matters the meadow
If scythe I have none:
What matters the treasure
If from me he's gone?
If scythe I have none:
What matters the treasure
If from me he's gone?
“But if I must mow
By the Neckar and Rhine,
I'll throw in the waters
This gold ring of mine.
By the Neckar and Rhine,
I'll throw in the waters
This gold ring of mine.
“It floats down the Neckar,
It drifts down the Rhine;
It shall swim on thereunder,
And sink in the brine.”
It drifts down the Rhine;
It shall swim on thereunder,
And sink in the brine.”
II.
But a fish as it swimmeth
Hath swallowed the ring:—
They serve up the fish
At the board of the king.
264
They serve up the fish
At the board of the king.
Spoke out the king thereat,
“Whose ring shall this be?”
Then out spoke my Treasure,
“This ring is for me.”
“Whose ring shall this be?”
Then out spoke my Treasure,
“This ring is for me.”
My heart's-dearest, riding
Both up hill and down,
Quick brought my ring back
From the court and the town.
Both up hill and down,
Quick brought my ring back
From the court and the town.
Thou mayst reap, said he, darling,
By Neckar and Rhine,
But throw not henceforward
Thy plight in the brine.
By Neckar and Rhine,
But throw not henceforward
Thy plight in the brine.
South Carolina.
I can't say whether that graceless little genius, BETTINE BRENTANO [or Arnim,] wrote the original of the above version, although she had somewhat to do with editing the book. What a pity, while one reads of her climbing trees, sitting on Goethe's knee, and all that, it is so difficult to forget it is a respectable old soul,—quite an old soul now,—who is reviewing her eccentric life!
J. M. LEGARE265
THANATOKALLOS
I THINK we faint and weep more than is manly;
I think we more mistrust, than Christians should.
Because the earth we cling to interposes
And hides the lower orbit of the sun,
We have no faith to know the circle perfect,
And that day will follow on the night:
Nay more, that when the sun we see, is setting,
He is rising on another people;
And not his face but ours veiled in darkness.
We are less wise than were the ancient heathen
Who tempered feasting with a grisly moral.
I think we more mistrust, than Christians should.
Because the earth we cling to interposes
And hides the lower orbit of the sun,
We have no faith to know the circle perfect,
And that day will follow on the night:
Nay more, that when the sun we see, is setting,
He is rising on another people;
And not his face but ours veiled in darkness.
We are less wise than were the ancient heathen
Who tempered feasting with a grisly moral.
With higher hope, we shrink from thoughts of dying,
And dare not read, while yet of death unbidden,
As Gipsies in the palm, those seams and circles
And time-worn lineaments in which kings in purple
Have trembled to behold, but holy men,
Interpreting aright, like martyred STEPHEN,
In singleness of heart have sunk to sleep;
GOD'S children weary us with an evening ramble.
Unthinking custom from our very cradle
Makes us most cowards where we should be bold.
The house is closed and hushed; a gloom funereal
Pervades the rooms once cheerful with the light;
Sobs and outcries from those we love, infect us
With strange disquiet, making play unsought
Before they take us on the knee and tell us
We must no more be joyful, for a dread
And terrible calamity has smitten one.
And dare not read, while yet of death unbidden,
As Gipsies in the palm, those seams and circles
And time-worn lineaments in which kings in purple
Have trembled to behold, but holy men,
Interpreting aright, like martyred STEPHEN,
In singleness of heart have sunk to sleep;
GOD'S children weary us with an evening ramble.
Unthinking custom from our very cradle
Makes us most cowards where we should be bold.
The house is closed and hushed; a gloom funereal
Pervades the rooms once cheerful with the light;
Sobs and outcries from those we love, infect us
With strange disquiet, making play unsought
266
We must no more be joyful, for a dread
And terrible calamity has smitten one.
And then, poor innocents, with frighted hearts
Within the awful chamber are we led
To look on death; the hard impassive face,
The formal shroud, which the stiff feet erect
Into the semblance of a second forehead,
Swathed and concealed; the tumbler whence he drank
Who ne'er shall drink again; the various adjuncts
Of a sick room; the useless phials
Half emptied only, on the hearth the lamp,
Even the fly that buzzes round and settles
Upon the dead man's mouth, and walking thence
Into his nostril, starts him not from slumber.
All portions of the dreary changeless scene
In the last drama, with unwholesome stillness
Succeeding to the weepings and complaints
Of Heaven's own justice, and loud cries for succor
That fill the dying ear not wholly dead,
Distract the fluttering spirit, and invest
A death-bed with a horror not its own.
I thought of these things sadly, and I wondered
If in this thanatopsis, soul as clay
Took part and sorrowed. While I this debated,
I knew my soul was loosing from my hold,
And that the pines around, assuming shape
Of mournful draperies, shut out the day.
Then I lost sight and memory for a moment,
Then stood erect beside my usual couch,
And saw my longwhile tenement, a pallid
And helpless symbol of my former self.
The hands laid heavily across the breast,
The eyelids down, the mouth with final courage
That aimed a smile for sake of her who watched,
But lapsed into a pang and so congealed.
Half sweet, half suffering: Aria to Caecinna.
Within the awful chamber are we led
To look on death; the hard impassive face,
The formal shroud, which the stiff feet erect
Into the semblance of a second forehead,
Swathed and concealed; the tumbler whence he drank
Who ne'er shall drink again; the various adjuncts
Of a sick room; the useless phials
Half emptied only, on the hearth the lamp,
Even the fly that buzzes round and settles
Upon the dead man's mouth, and walking thence
Into his nostril, starts him not from slumber.
All portions of the dreary changeless scene
In the last drama, with unwholesome stillness
Succeeding to the weepings and complaints
Of Heaven's own justice, and loud cries for succor
That fill the dying ear not wholly dead,
Distract the fluttering spirit, and invest
A death-bed with a horror not its own.
I thought of these things sadly, and I wondered
If in this thanatopsis, soul as clay
Took part and sorrowed. While I this debated,
I knew my soul was loosing from my hold,
And that the pines around, assuming shape
Of mournful draperies, shut out the day.
Then I lost sight and memory for a moment,
Then stood erect beside my usual couch,
And saw my longwhile tenement, a pallid
And helpless symbol of my former self.
The hands laid heavily across the breast,
The eyelids down, the mouth with final courage
267
But lapsed into a pang and so congealed.
Half sweet, half suffering: Aria to Caecinna.
Poor sinful clod, erewhile the spirit's master
Not less than servant, with desire keen
Alloying love, and oft with wants and achings
Leading the mind astray from noblest deeds
To sell it's birth-right for an ESAU'S portion.
I all forgave, for I was all forgiven.
Phosphor had brought a day too broad for twilight
Or mist upon its confines. All the old
Sad mysteries that raise gigantic shadows
Betwixt our mortal faces and GOD'S throne,
Had fainted in its splendor; pride and sin,
Sorrow and pain, and every mortal ill,
In the deserted tenement remained,
A palace outwardly, a vault within.
And so, because she thought it still a palace
And not a prison with the prisoner fled,
She stood before the gates accustomed. Weeping,
Laid her moist cheek upon its breast, and cried,
“My lord! my life!” to what had ceased from living,
And could no more command with word or eyes.
It moved my pity sorely, for these fingers,
Now locked in agonizing prayer, once turned
Gently the pages of his life who slumbered;
And this brave mouth, with words of faith and cheer,
Strewed flowers in the path he needs must tread.
That as a conqueror and not a captive,
Dragged at the heavy chariot wheels of Time,
And through an arch triumphal, where for others
A narrow portal opens in the sod,
Silent and sad and void of outlet, he
The kingdom of his LORD might enter in.
Thus she made dying sweet and full of beauty
As life itself. There was no harsh transition;
He that slept two-fold, woke a single nature,
Beatified and glad. But she who stayed,
Poor little Roman heart, no longer brave
Now that the eyes were shut for evermore,
Which made all virtues sweeter for their praise,
Saw not the joy and greatness of the change.
And I drew near her, as a spirit may
Not to the mortal ear, but that the words
Seemed teachings of her bruised and lowly soul.
“Is this the poet of thy summer days,
The thoughtful husband of maturer years?
Are these the lips whose kindly words could reach
The deepness of thy nature? If they be,
Let them resume their own, not tarry. Nay,
Thou knowest, all that thou didst ever love
Is lifted out, and all that thou didst hate
Lived in the flesh, and with the flesh remains.
What matters it to thee, if this decays
And mingling with the sod, is trampled on
Of clownish feet, by gleaming share upturned,
Or feeds a rose, or roots a noisome weed?
How canst thou halve thy heart, half to the grave
Half to high Heaven yield? Thank GOD instead,
That he who was so dear to thee, released
From sin and care, at length has found great peace.”
While she thus mused, her silent tears were stayed,
And kneeling down with her sweet patient face,
Lifted toward Heaven, itself sufficient prayer,
“LORD GOD!” she cried, “thou knowest best how weak
And frail I am, and faithless; give me strength
To take the rod thou sendest for a staff,
And falter never more in this lone journey!”
Then she went forth and gathered freshest flowers
And strewed them on the dead: young violets
Upon the breast, verbena round the temples,
Loose rose-leaves o'er the mouth, to hide the pang,
And in his hand a lily newly opened,
In token of her faith and his transition.
And in her eyes there reigned such quietude
That those who saw her, said an angel surely
Has spoken with her: or, her reason's moved
By sufferings prolonged. But none might say
She loved but lightly, or with levity
Looked forward to the common lot of all.
Not less than servant, with desire keen
Alloying love, and oft with wants and achings
Leading the mind astray from noblest deeds
To sell it's birth-right for an ESAU'S portion.
I all forgave, for I was all forgiven.
Phosphor had brought a day too broad for twilight
Or mist upon its confines. All the old
Sad mysteries that raise gigantic shadows
Betwixt our mortal faces and GOD'S throne,
Had fainted in its splendor; pride and sin,
Sorrow and pain, and every mortal ill,
In the deserted tenement remained,
A palace outwardly, a vault within.
And so, because she thought it still a palace
And not a prison with the prisoner fled,
She stood before the gates accustomed. Weeping,
Laid her moist cheek upon its breast, and cried,
“My lord! my life!” to what had ceased from living,
And could no more command with word or eyes.
It moved my pity sorely, for these fingers,
Now locked in agonizing prayer, once turned
Gently the pages of his life who slumbered;
And this brave mouth, with words of faith and cheer,
Strewed flowers in the path he needs must tread.
That as a conqueror and not a captive,
Dragged at the heavy chariot wheels of Time,
And through an arch triumphal, where for others
A narrow portal opens in the sod,
Silent and sad and void of outlet, he
The kingdom of his LORD might enter in.
268
As life itself. There was no harsh transition;
He that slept two-fold, woke a single nature,
Beatified and glad. But she who stayed,
Poor little Roman heart, no longer brave
Now that the eyes were shut for evermore,
Which made all virtues sweeter for their praise,
Saw not the joy and greatness of the change.
And I drew near her, as a spirit may
Not to the mortal ear, but that the words
Seemed teachings of her bruised and lowly soul.
“Is this the poet of thy summer days,
The thoughtful husband of maturer years?
Are these the lips whose kindly words could reach
The deepness of thy nature? If they be,
Let them resume their own, not tarry. Nay,
Thou knowest, all that thou didst ever love
Is lifted out, and all that thou didst hate
Lived in the flesh, and with the flesh remains.
What matters it to thee, if this decays
And mingling with the sod, is trampled on
Of clownish feet, by gleaming share upturned,
Or feeds a rose, or roots a noisome weed?
How canst thou halve thy heart, half to the grave
Half to high Heaven yield? Thank GOD instead,
That he who was so dear to thee, released
From sin and care, at length has found great peace.”
While she thus mused, her silent tears were stayed,
And kneeling down with her sweet patient face,
Lifted toward Heaven, itself sufficient prayer,
“LORD GOD!” she cried, “thou knowest best how weak
And frail I am, and faithless; give me strength
To take the rod thou sendest for a staff,
And falter never more in this lone journey!”
269
And strewed them on the dead: young violets
Upon the breast, verbena round the temples,
Loose rose-leaves o'er the mouth, to hide the pang,
And in his hand a lily newly opened,
In token of her faith and his transition.
And in her eyes there reigned such quietude
That those who saw her, said an angel surely
Has spoken with her: or, her reason's moved
By sufferings prolonged. But none might say
She loved but lightly, or with levity
Looked forward to the common lot of all.
Aiken, S.C. 1849.
270
THE TWO KING'S-CHILDREN
[_]
This old ballad (translated from the German version in Germanicus Voelkerstimmen) is found in several of the languages having a common origin—such as the Swedish, Danish, Netherlandish or Dutch, and even perhaps in some others.
BEHOLD two children of a king,
Who held each other dear—
They could not each to other come
So deep the waters were.
Who held each other dear—
They could not each to other come
So deep the waters were.
Thou can'st, my love, right bravely swim,
Swim over here to me;—
By night a torch shall lighten up
The way across the sea.
Swim over here to me;—
By night a torch shall lighten up
The way across the sea.
Now there was one false-hearted nun
Crept softly to the sea,
And smothered out his light: the prince
Lost in the waves was he.
Crept softly to the sea,
And smothered out his light: the prince
Lost in the waves was he.
The daughter to her mother spoke:
“My heart is full of woe—
To wander out along the beach
I pray thee let me go.”
“My heart is full of woe—
To wander out along the beach
I pray thee let me go.”
The mother to the chapel goes,
The daughter seeks the shore;—
She walks all sorrowful and lone,
With grief her heart is sore.
The daughter seeks the shore;—
She walks all sorrowful and lone,
With grief her heart is sore.
271
“Ah, fisherman, good fisherman!
How ill I am dost see:
Thou can'st and must assist me;—cast
Thy nets along the sea.
How ill I am dost see:
Thou can'st and must assist me;—cast
Thy nets along the sea.
“Here have I lost my best beloved
Of all the world around:
If thou can'st fish my treasure up
With gold thou shalt abound.”
Of all the world around:
If thou can'st fish my treasure up
With gold thou shalt abound.”
“For thee this day long will I fish—
God's gifts I'll take, no more.”—
He casts his net,—what findeth he?
The prince he drags to shore.
God's gifts I'll take, no more.”—
He casts his net,—what findeth he?
The prince he drags to shore.
“Now, noble fisher, take thou that
Thy service doth thee gain;
Here is my diamond coronet,
And here my golden chain.”
Thy service doth thee gain;
Here is my diamond coronet,
And here my golden chain.”
She took her best-loved in her arms,
His wan lips kissed in vain:
“Ah, faithful mouth! could'st thou but speak
My heart would live again!”
His wan lips kissed in vain:
“Ah, faithful mouth! could'st thou but speak
My heart would live again!”
She drew him closely to her breast,
The breast so full of woe,
And with him caring naught for life,
Leaped in the waves below.
The breast so full of woe,
And with him caring naught for life,
Leaped in the waves below.
272
A HUSBAND TO A WIFE
WIFE, my heart is yearning for you,
For your fond and winning ways.
Come and take this darkness from me,
Let me find again your praise.
How you love me! Sweet, your kisses
Have not grown more cold or few;
Though in place of sunny meadows,
Cheerless paths I've led you through.
For your fond and winning ways.
Come and take this darkness from me,
Let me find again your praise.
How you love me! Sweet, your kisses
Have not grown more cold or few;
Though in place of sunny meadows,
Cheerless paths I've led you through.
But my heart I think grows older.
Once the birds were sweet to hear;
Blooming flowers touched me kindly,
Spring and Fall alike were fair.
Now I scarcely heed a blossom
Brushing past my cheek, and dim
Strikes the sunshine through the forest,
And the valleys have no hymn.
Once the birds were sweet to hear;
Blooming flowers touched me kindly,
Spring and Fall alike were fair.
Now I scarcely heed a blossom
Brushing past my cheek, and dim
Strikes the sunshine through the forest,
And the valleys have no hymn.
Books once petted, poor companions
For a walk. I have no thought
Any more for pleasant rhymings,
Any more for reading aught
Which gave frequent pleasure. Toiling
Upward hopelessly and long,
Scarcely strength remains for praying,
And no longer breath for song.
For a walk. I have no thought
Any more for pleasant rhymings,
Any more for reading aught
Which gave frequent pleasure. Toiling
Upward hopelessly and long,
Scarcely strength remains for praying,
And no longer breath for song.
273
You and I embarked together
When all Earth was full of speech,
And the kiss of every ripple
Said, “I love thee” to the beach.
Now night broods across the waters,
Far from sight or sound of shore,
And the straining ear is sated
With the labor of the oar.
When all Earth was full of speech,
And the kiss of every ripple
Said, “I love thee” to the beach.
Now night broods across the waters,
Far from sight or sound of shore,
And the straining ear is sated
With the labor of the oar.
Kiss me softly on the forehead:
Draw me safely to thy breast.
Lest Hereafter's hopes be bartered
For a temporary rest.
Nothing shakes thy strong affection,
And it is thy joy and pain,
To be loved as never woman
Was, or can be loved again.
Draw me safely to thy breast.
Lest Hereafter's hopes be bartered
For a temporary rest.
Nothing shakes thy strong affection,
And it is thy joy and pain,
To be loved as never woman
Was, or can be loved again.
Aiken, S.C.
274
JANETTE
I WAS the last of all my kin,
My food was scant, my gown was thin.
I would have sooner died than sin.
My food was scant, my gown was thin.
I would have sooner died than sin.
With cunning words he sought me out.
“My father served him—not without
Return.” I was too young to doubt.
“My father served him—not without
Return.” I was too young to doubt.
He took me to his home by stealth:
His wife was there in feeble health;
His wife, who bought him with her wealth.
His wife was there in feeble health;
His wife, who bought him with her wealth.
I knew how much he did despise
Her meaner gifts, his loving lies;
I saw it in his scornful eyes.
Her meaner gifts, his loving lies;
I saw it in his scornful eyes.
Her nature, sullen by reproof,
Held him in better moods aloof.
But I was grateful for their roof:
Held him in better moods aloof.
But I was grateful for their roof:
And sought by gentleness to teach
The duty each did owe to each;
Her patience, him more kindly speech.
The duty each did owe to each;
Her patience, him more kindly speech.
I thawed her heart, I changed her face,
His words partook of better grace;
There was more sunlight in the place.
His words partook of better grace;
There was more sunlight in the place.
He sat whole hours at her knee.
I was too glad in heart to see
How much it was for love of me.
I was too glad in heart to see
275
He spread his cunning wiles so true,
I was ensnared before I knew
I loved with every breath I drew.
I was ensnared before I knew
I loved with every breath I drew.
He read the riddle soon as I.
He stayed me when I thought to fly.
I wept; Oh, was no GOD on high!
He stayed me when I thought to fly.
I wept; Oh, was no GOD on high!
I would have sooner died than sin:
I fell and lived. All tears within
My scorching eyes were dried therein.
I fell and lived. All tears within
My scorching eyes were dried therein.
And on my forehead burned a name
That crazed me. Then with cheek aflame
I fled into the night for shame.
That crazed me. Then with cheek aflame
I fled into the night for shame.
I hid myself within a wood.
I had laid by my womanhood,
And shared their rustic toil and food.
I had laid by my womanhood,
And shared their rustic toil and food.
I hated all things good and pure
That mocked me. But I hated more
The heart that loved him at its core.
That mocked me. But I hated more
The heart that loved him at its core.
I trod upon my heart and fate.
Because my love had been so great,
I hated him with cruel hate.
Because my love had been so great,
I hated him with cruel hate.
I gathered patience in my strife.
I waited. Time removed his wife;
She stood between me and his life.
I waited. Time removed his wife;
She stood between me and his life.
I waited till his home should be
Stripped of its mourning garb, and he
Crossed by no thought of pain or me.
Stripped of its mourning garb, and he
Crossed by no thought of pain or me.
He slew my happiness by craft.
He should be smiling when he quaffed
My hate. I hid myself and laughed.
He should be smiling when he quaffed
My hate. I hid myself and laughed.
276
I took a dagger sharp and bright,
I held its flashing from the light,
And that I shaded from his sight.
I held its flashing from the light,
And that I shaded from his sight.
I turned the lamp upon his cheek;
I saw him lying pale and weak,
As one that from Death's hold did break.
I saw him lying pale and weak,
As one that from Death's hold did break.
His fevered lips, as in unrest,
Moved to my name. What thirsty guest
Held I in hand to probe his breast!
Moved to my name. What thirsty guest
Held I in hand to probe his breast!
If he had slept in conscious pride
Of strength; if by one smile defied
My misery, he then had died.
Of strength; if by one smile defied
My misery, he then had died.
I thought to find him brave and gay.
I could not strike him as he lay;
I pitied where I thought to slay.
I could not strike him as he lay;
I pitied where I thought to slay.
I thrust the weakness from my brain,
I trampled on my heart in vain.
A viewless hand on mine was lain.
I trampled on my heart in vain.
A viewless hand on mine was lain.
Look back, a spirit in me said,
My sense of vision turned its head,
And rested on a snowy bed;
My sense of vision turned its head,
And rested on a snowy bed;
Wherein a sleeping infant lay.
I knew it was the pleasant May,
Such heavy bloom was on the spray.
I knew it was the pleasant May,
Such heavy bloom was on the spray.
I saw the infant grown a maid,
Before the glass her tresses braid,
And smiled upon the image made.
Before the glass her tresses braid,
And smiled upon the image made.
And later, kneeling down to smooth
The dying bed of one in sooth,
Who uttered words of grace and truth.
The dying bed of one in sooth,
Who uttered words of grace and truth.
277
“This life is but a little space.
Live purely, love, that by GOD'S grace
We may rejoin in better place.”
Live purely, love, that by GOD'S grace
We may rejoin in better place.”
And have I lived so!—GOD on high,
My spirit hastened to reply,
Knew that thy life had been no lie
My spirit hastened to reply,
Knew that thy life had been no lie
To him, nor to thy sex untrue,
Until this wronger did undo
Thy weaker nature. Strike him through:
Until this wronger did undo
Thy weaker nature. Strike him through:
And in his life wash out thy shame.
Men will accord thee fairer name
Than now. GOD judges not the same.
Men will accord thee fairer name
Than now. GOD judges not the same.
More noble this. He did thee harm;
Forgive. Forgiveness self's a charm,
Which may avert GOD'S vengeful arm.
Forgive. Forgiveness self's a charm,
Which may avert GOD'S vengeful arm.
He wronged thee not beyond thy prime.
Alas! with what abhorrent crime,
Thou comest here to sear all time.
Alas! with what abhorrent crime,
Thou comest here to sear all time.
In one short moment all these things
My spirit showed. The fevered springs
Of life seemed fanned by angel wings.
My spirit showed. The fevered springs
Of life seemed fanned by angel wings.
My cool, cool tears were falling fast.
Unconscious what I did, I cast
My dagger down: he woke aghast.
Unconscious what I did, I cast
My dagger down: he woke aghast.
My pallid face, the open door,
The naked weapon on the floor,
He saw. “JANETTE!”—he said no more.
The naked weapon on the floor,
He saw. “JANETTE!”—he said no more.
I knew in that one startled look
His very soul my crime in-took,
As written in an open book.
His very soul my crime in-took,
As written in an open book.
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Then on a sudden bared his breast.
Come strike, he said, so it is best
Thy bitter wrong should be redressed.
Come strike, he said, so it is best
Thy bitter wrong should be redressed.
Too late I tried to overtake
My sin. My heart did only break
On disappointment for thy sake.
My sin. My heart did only break
On disappointment for thy sake.
I cannot love thee less, Oh sweet!
I will not struggle. At his feet
I bowed down: how my heart did beat!
I will not struggle. At his feet
I bowed down: how my heart did beat!
He called me quick; I raised my head,
He was as pale as one that's dead.
“I love you still!” was all he said.
He was as pale as one that's dead.
“I love you still!” was all he said.
He drew me up, he kissed my face,
My nerveless hands, that in that place
Had slain him but for better grace.
My nerveless hands, that in that place
Had slain him but for better grace.
I knew while on his breast I lay,
Although no word his mouth did say,
That CHRIST his sin had done away:
Although no word his mouth did say,
That CHRIST his sin had done away:
And changed to peace of heart my wo,
Despite my penitence was slow.
GOD grant us all our sins to know.
Despite my penitence was slow.
GOD grant us all our sins to know.
Aiken, January, 1850.
279
THE HEMLOCKS
ALL poets who with thoughtful awe
Walk the green earth, as men advised
Of holy ground, some sweetness draw
From things of other minds despised;
Walk the green earth, as men advised
Of holy ground, some sweetness draw
From things of other minds despised;
And understand the hidden springs
Of love and hate in human kind.
And yet, 'tis said, a linnet sings
The sweetest when its eyes are blind.
Of love and hate in human kind.
And yet, 'tis said, a linnet sings
The sweetest when its eyes are blind.
The city ladies' eyes were wet,
Or treated with no show of scorn
His lines: they touched me nearer yet,
Although I am but country born.
Or treated with no show of scorn
His lines: they touched me nearer yet,
Although I am but country born.
My cheek was pale for lack of life,
And paler for my mourning gown;
And when he came, the winds at strife
Had brought my heavy tresses down.
And paler for my mourning gown;
And when he came, the winds at strife
Had brought my heavy tresses down.
And I was leaning on my hand
In listless mood: The pines below
Made solemn music through the land,
Quite up to where the hemlocks grow.
In listless mood: The pines below
Made solemn music through the land,
Quite up to where the hemlocks grow.
I saw a shadow move across
The cliff, before I met his look,
His noiseless foot was on the moss;
An angler by his rod and book.
The cliff, before I met his look,
His noiseless foot was on the moss;
An angler by his rod and book.
280
The hemlock trunks were rough and tall,
Their fibrous roots, thrust forth to drink
The moisture of the waterfall,
With lichens hid the awful brink.
Their fibrous roots, thrust forth to drink
The moisture of the waterfall,
With lichens hid the awful brink.
I would have called in my affright.
My coward tongue was stricken mute.
—It was as swift as thought or sight,
A sudden gap within the root.
My coward tongue was stricken mute.
—It was as swift as thought or sight,
A sudden gap within the root.
And if he cried, the cry was lost,
And I was kneeling on the sod.
And wept to see the chasm crossed,
And in his grasp the broken rod.
And I was kneeling on the sod.
And wept to see the chasm crossed,
And in his grasp the broken rod.
There swung a vine with clusters brown,
Between two trunks from each to each;
With all my strength I drew it down,
With all my might I bore it down,
Until it fell within his reach.
Between two trunks from each to each;
With all my strength I drew it down,
With all my might I bore it down,
Until it fell within his reach.
And when he thanked me with grave eyes,
And with a pale but gracious lip,
I felt as when a maiden spies
The pennon of her lover's ship.
And with a pale but gracious lip,
I felt as when a maiden spies
The pennon of her lover's ship.
The ship that from a foreign sea
Brings the true heart of which she dreamed
But yesternight. A Mystery
Grew up between us then meseemed.
Brings the true heart of which she dreamed
But yesternight. A Mystery
Grew up between us then meseemed.
I little thought of love before;
I knew he won my heart with ease.
The rustic swains who shunned my door,
Had thought me coy and hard to please.
I knew he won my heart with ease.
The rustic swains who shunned my door,
Had thought me coy and hard to please.
Their laughter seldom moved my mirth
Because it was as grainless sheaves;
I better love the gala earth
And songs of birds among the leaves.
Because it was as grainless sheaves;
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And songs of birds among the leaves.
The dewey sward, the misty height
Slow purpling in the morning gleam,
The copses where with footsteps light
He came to angle in the stream.
Slow purpling in the morning gleam,
The copses where with footsteps light
He came to angle in the stream.
And sat whole hours at my knee
Repeating from some pleasant book,
While tangled in a stooping tree
His line detained the guiltless hook.
Repeating from some pleasant book,
While tangled in a stooping tree
His line detained the guiltless hook.
And once he read beside the rill
Some verses with a cadence sweet,
And when I praised the writer's skill
He laid the poem at my feet.
Some verses with a cadence sweet,
And when I praised the writer's skill
He laid the poem at my feet.
And smiled and said the lines were his,
And written for a lady fair,
Who loved all Nature as it is
Better than breathing city air;
And written for a lady fair,
Who loved all Nature as it is
Better than breathing city air;
But that she far excelled his rhymes,
And might have worn a civic crown
If she had lived in Roman times;
And how her lovely eyes were brown.
And might have worn a civic crown
If she had lived in Roman times;
And how her lovely eyes were brown.
And that he loved her more than life
Itself or fame: this much he said,
When stricken in a playful strife,
Sickening, I turned my head—
Itself or fame: this much he said,
When stricken in a playful strife,
Sickening, I turned my head—
I turned my foolish head to hide
The tears that would not be repressed;
But when my altered mien he spied,
He drew me blushing to his breast.
The tears that would not be repressed;
But when my altered mien he spied,
He drew me blushing to his breast.
282
And I, because I understood
The story, and its purpose then,
In that brief moment,—as he would,
Turned my wet face to his again.
The story, and its purpose then,
In that brief moment,—as he would,
Turned my wet face to his again.
“And do you love me so?! he cried,”
“And are you not the lady fine?”
I knew in all the land beside
There was no lighter heart than mine.
“And are you not the lady fine?”
I knew in all the land beside
There was no lighter heart than mine.
Aiken, Dec., 1851.
283
THE LIGHTHOUSE
I
ACROSS a league of angry breakersAnd three of waste and drifting sand,
With curlews wading in the shadows
And white gulls fishing off the land;
II
A beacon on the far horizon,Nearer a tower worn and white,
A lighthouse half and half a prison,
With rusted gratings round the light;
III
Barren the shore and unfrequented,And fretted ever by the sea;
And these and such were his surroundings,
A hero, and the last of three.
IV
On the long swell from the Bermudas,While great Orion climbs the sky,
Remote at sea in night and silence,
Like sheeted ghosts the fleet go by;
284
V
Or surging in the wide AtlanticImpetuous rolled upon the lee,
When the low coast is lost in drizzle
And white with foam is all the sea.
VI
Ah, what endurance and endeavorWere his who watched between these bars,
On that drear night when wildest tempest
Shut out the earth, the sea, the stars!
VII
Not so had been the autumn morning,Fair skies, light breezes off the shore;
And the two wardens of the tower
Sailed from it to return no more.
VIII
For through the gates of the AntillesCoastwise there drove a mist that day,
And in its wake were frothing waters
And a wild hurricane they say.
IX
In rolled, white capped, the tumbling billowsWith bursts of phosphorescent spray,
Fled the wild rack across the heavens
And sudden night obscured the day.
X
Shoreward from sea and sedgy marshesToiled the sea birds to reach the main,
Drifting aslant before the tempest
Bewildered by the driving rain.
285
XI
Around this tower with cries discordantWheeling in oft repeated flight,
They caught on wet and glancing pinions
The gleam of the revolving light.
XII
Through the rain-blurred and beaten casementEach following each in endless chase,
Fled bars of light pursued by shadows
In wider circles round the place:
XIII
Swept over sands and Sound and inlet,And leagues of sea lashed by the gale,
And past the shoal and dangerous headland
In safety guided many a sail.
XIV
And direful wreck had been and drowningWhere wreck had never been before,
Had it but faltered in revolving
And seemed some casual light ashore.
XV
Three nights a star on the horizonBy turns illuming sea and sound,—
No mortal hand, sure, fired the beacon
And trailed the glittering lamps around!
XVI
For in the first of the tornado,Just where the seas and currents crossed,
'Whelmed in th' infuriate Atlantic
Both keepers of the Light were lost.
286
XVII
It was a child of tender years,Kept lonely vigil in their stead,
Nor knew that in the hollow surges
Rolled sire and grandsire stark and dead.
XVIII
He thought of tales of shipwreck dire,On coasts sea girt and lying low;
Of wretches lost in the Atlantic,
And set the glimmering lamps a-row.
XIX
Poised in its well within the tower,A ponderous weight controls, by night,
Through multiplying wheels and pinions
The revolutions of the light.
XX
How he long toiled—a child's endeavor—At the stiff crank to raise this weight,
While darker rolled the ocean ever,
And wind and rain assailed the grate;
XXI
How his great soul remained undauntedWhen all his childish strength was vain,
While deeper night involved the ocean,
And wilder beat the wind and rain;
XXII
And how disjoined from wheel and pinion,Studded with lights, a sparkling reel,
Round and around in bright gyrations
He drew at last the cumbrous wheel;
287
XXIII
And so from shipwreck in the breakersSaved many a gallant ship, 'tis said,
They knew, and wept, who on the morrow
Found him still at his post—but dead.
XXIV
'Twas when the furious hurricaneOn the fourth day had ceased to blow,
And there were wrecks from Corrientes
To the pine shores of Pamlico;
XXV
There came a boat across the seasIn which the keepers twain were drowned,
And found him resting on his knees—
A poor dead child was all they found.
XXVI
If 'twas of hunger that he died,Or thirst, or stress of long fatigue,
Or all conjoined—who may decide?
Witness was none for many a league.
XXVII
Haply it was some angel brightThat stood to strengthen all his soul
And helped the feeble hand to write
His name in an immortal scroll.
XXVIII
Give, O blind world, your loud applauseTo men renowned through blood and tears—
'Twas not for that he gave his life
And these are not among his peers.
A version of the above poem having appeared in the July number of Putnam's Monthly, the author thinks he may show a modest preference for his unaided composition, by a re-publication of the poem as it stood a few weeks since in the MS furnished to that Magazine. Whether the Editor of “Putnam's” in assuming the novel literary powers he has, has exceeded his ability as far as he has his function of Editor, the public may decide.
J. M. LEGARE. | [Poems by Legare in] That Ambitious Mr. Legaré | |