University of Virginia Library

I am that ancient shadow men call Time,
Silent, infirm, frail-footed, snow'd upon
By many winters, faring westward still,
And ever looking backward to the east.
How far these feeble feet must wander yet
I know not. All is dark before my steps;
And oft it seems to my bewilder'd sense,
That I alone of all things do not move,
But like the pale moon plunging on thro' mist
Make but a fancied motion for the eye,
And stationary with enchanted eyes
Seem still to pass all shapes that swift as clouds
Slide by for ever. Behind me like the sea
Seen amid tempest from a mountain top,
Innumerable years break awfully
To foam of living faces and to moan
Of living voices; and upon that waste,
Looming afar off ghost-like in my track,
One still moves luminous-footed, stretching hands
To bless the angry waves whereon He walks.

To night I come as Prologue, to prepare
Your ears for subtle matter. Do ye hear
That wind of human voices anguishing
Afar off, like the wind Euroclydon
Moaning around Mount Ida? Hark again!
“Liberty! Liberty!” the wild voice cries,
“Liberty!” now,—and ever “Liberty!”
But whom they call by that mysterious name
I say not, nor can any angel say,
Nor one thing under God. God knows and hears.
That one word and none other hath been cried
By men from the beginning. I have heard
The sound so long, I smile; but at the same
Kingdoms have fallen like o'er-ripen'd fruit,
Realms wither'd, heaven rain'd blood and earth yawn'd graves,
The seasons sicken'd changing their due course,
The stars burnt blue for many awful nights
The corpse-lights of a world that lay as dead.
And now to-night we show on this same stage
How, uttering each that one mysterious word,
Two mighty Nations gather'd up their crests
Against each other, struck and struck again,
Met, mingled, roar'd, fell, rose, fought throat to throat,
Until their hate became the wide world's scorn;
How dimly, darkly, for the great Idea,
Each smote, and stagger'd on from blow to blow,
While one by one came Leaders veil'd to each,
Phantoms, each cloak'd and hooded and led by me,
Each saying “In the name of Liberty!”
And drew them as the white moon draws the sea;
How one by one these threw their cloaks aside
And stood in a red sunset, bloody men
Who juggled with the mystic word of God;—
Yet how from sorrow came mysterious good,
Seeing Man's wrong'd Soul hoarded its deep strength
In silence, making ready for that day
When God Himself, who knows the secret only,
May bless it with that single truth it seeks.

It is begun. Germania overthrown,
Mad, stricken, lies upon her back and glares
At heaven from a bloody battle-field,
And dimly sees in the dark void above her
A dark Shape, a dim-footed Phantasy,
And deemeth 'tis the mighty truth men seek.
Hark, the drums beat! the cannons thunder deep!
Earth shakes! . . Now all is silent, and I go
To walk at dark across the battle-field,
And, stooping o'er each stricken bleeding man,
Point with a skeleton finger to the stars,
And whispering my other awful name,
Draw back my hood a moment—thus!

My name
Is also Death; and I am deathless. I
Am Time and most eternal. I am he,
God's Usher, and my duty it is to lead
The actors one by one upon the scene,
And afterwards to guide them quietly
Through that dark postern when their parts are played.
They come and go, alas! but I abide,
And I am weary of the garish stage.