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Not in the ashes of the burnt-out mind, 1 Our earthy dulness with the beams of But beautiful, with danger's sweetness
stars, round her.
And glorify our clay Where faith made whole with deed With light from fountains elder than Breathes its awakening breath
the Day; Into the lifeless creed,
A conscience more divine than we, They saw her plumed and mailed, A gladness fed with secret tears,
With sweet, stern face unveiled, A vexing, forward-reaching sense And all-repaying eyes, look proud on Of some more noble permanence ; them in death.
A light across the sea,
let it be,
Still beaconing from the heights of unOur slender life runs rippling by, and degenerate years.
glides Into the silent hollow of the past;
What is there that abides
Whither leads the path
To ampler fates that leads ? Something to live for here that shall
Not down , through flowery outlive us?
meads, Some more substantial boon
To reap an aftermath Than such as flows and ebbs with For Of youth's vainglorious weeds, tune's fickle moon ?
But up the steep, amid the wrath The little that we see
And shock of deadly-hostile creeds, From doubt is never free;
Where the world's best hope and The little that we do
stay Is but half-nobly true;
By bettle's flashes gropes a desperate With our laborious hiving
way, What men call treasure, and the gods And every turf the fierce foot clings to call dross,
bleeds. Life seems a jest of Fate's contriving, Peace hath her not ignoble wreath,
Only secure in every one's conniving, Ere yet the sharp, decisive word A long account of nothings paid with Light the black lips of cannon, and the loss,
sword Where we poor puppets, jerked by un Dreams in its easeful sheath; seen wires,
| But some day the live coal behind the After our little hour of strut and rave,
thought, With all our pasteboard passions and Whether from Baäl's stone obdesires,
scene, Loves, hates, ambitions, and immortal Or from the shrine serene fires,
Of God's pure altar brought, Are tossed pell-mell together in the Bursts up in flame; the war of tongue grave.
and pen But stay! no age was e'er degenerate, Learns with what deadly purpose it was Unless men held it at too cheap a rate,
fraught, For in our likeness still we shape our And, helpless in the fiery passion caught, fate.
Shakes all the pillared state with shock Ah, there is something here
of men : Unfathomed by the cynic's sneer, Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed Something that gives our feeble light Confronts us fiercely, foe-beset, pursued, A high immunity from Night, And cries reproachful : “Was it, then, Something that leaps life's narrow bars
my praise, To claim its birthright with the hosts of And not myself was loved ? Prove now heaven;
thy truth; A seed of sunshine that can leaven I claim of thee the promise of thy youth ; VI.
Give me thy life, or cower in empty | They knew that outward grace is phrase,
dust; The victim of thy genius, not its They could not choose but trust mate!”
In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering Life may be given in many ways,
skill, And loyalty to Truth be sealed
And supple-tempered will As bravely in the closet as the field, That bent like perfect steel to spring So bountiful is Fate ;
again and thrust. But then to stand beside her,
His was no lonely mountain-peak When craven churls deride her,
of mind, To front a lie in arnis and not to Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy yield,
bars, This shows, methinks, God's plan A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors And measure of a stalwart man,
blind; Limbed like the old heroic breeds, Broad prairie rather, genial, levelWho stands self-poised on man
lined, hood's solid earth,
Fruitful and friendly for all human Not forced to frame excuses for his
Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of Fed from within with all the strength he
Nothing of Europe here,
Ere any names of Serf and Peer Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,
Could Nature's equal scheme deWhom late the Nation he had led,
face With ashes on her head,
And thwart her genial will ; Wept with the passion of an angry grief : Here was a type of the true elder Forgive me, if from present things I
And one of Plutarch's men talked with To speak what in my heart will beat and
us face to face. burn,
I praise him not; it were too late ; And hang my wreath on his world-hon. And some innative weakness there must ored urn.
Such as the Present gives, and cannot
wait, Repeating us by rote:
Safe in himself as in a fate. For him her Old World moulds aside she So always firmly he : threw,
He knew to bide his time, And, choosing sweet clay from the And can his fame abide, breast
Still patient in his simple faith subOf the unexhausted West, With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, Till the wise years decide. Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, Great captains, with their guns and and true.
drums, How beautiful to see
Disturb our judgment for the hour, Once more a shepherd of mankind in. But at last silence comes; deed,
These all are gone, and, standing like Who loved his charge, but never loved me but never loved
a tower, to lead ;
Our children shall behold his fame, One whose meek flock the people joyed The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeto be,
ing man, Not lured by any cheat of birth, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not But by his clear-grained human
New birth of our new soil, the first And brave old wisdom of sincerity !
II strive to mix some gladness with my
strain, Long as man's hope insatiate can
But the sad strings complain, discern Or only guess some more inspiring I sweep them for a pean, but they wane
And will not please the ear :
Again and yet again Outside of Self, enduring as the in
as me into a dirge, and die away, in pain. pole, Along whose course the flying axles Thinking of dear ones whom the dumb
In these brave ranks I only see the gaps, burn
turf wraps, of spirits bravely-pitched, earth's Dark +
| Dark to the triumph which they died to manlier brood ;
gain : Long as below we cannot find
Fitlier may others greet the living, The meed that stills the inexorable
For me the past is unforgiving ; mind;
I with uncovered head So long this faith to some ideal Good,
Salute the sacred dead, Under whatever mortal names it
Who went, and who return not. — Say masks,
not so ! Freedom, Law, Country, this etherealfie,
| 'T is not the grapes of Canaan that repay, mood That thanks the Fates for their severer
But the high faith that failed not by
the way; tasks,
Virtue treads paths that end not in the Feeling its challenged pulses leap While others skulk in subterfuges No bar of endless night exiles the brave;
grave; cheap, And, set in Danger's van, has all the u
And to the saner mind boon it asks,
, mas in the We rather seem the dead that stayed Shall win man's praise and woman's
Blow, trumpets, all your exultations
blow! Shall be a wisdom that we set above
For never shall their aureoled presence All other skills and gifts to culture dear,
lack: A virtue round whose forehead we in- I see them muster in a gleaming row, wreathe
With ever-youthful brows that nobler Laurels that with a living passion
We find in our dull road their shining When other crowns grow, while we twine |
track; them, sear.
In every nobler mood What brings us thronging these high we feel the orient of their spirit glow, rites to pay,
| Part of our life's unalterable good, And seal these hours the noblest of our
Of all our saintlier aspiration ; year,
They come transfigured back, Save that our brothers found this bet
Secure from change in their high-hearted ter way?
Beautiful evermore, and with the rays VIII.
Of morn on their white Shields of Ex. We sit here in the Promised Land
pectation ! That flows with Freedom's honey and
milk; But 't was they won it, sword in hand,
IX. Making the nettle danger soft for us as
But is there hope to save silk.
Even this ethereal essence from the We welcome back our bravest and our
grave ? hest;
What ever 'scaped Oblivion's subtle Ah me! not all! some come not with
wrong the rest,
Save a few clarion names, or golden Who went forth brave and bright as any
threads of song? here !
Before my musing eye
The mighty ones of old sweep by, I Yea, Manhood hath a wider span Disvoiced now and insubstantial And larger privilege of life than man. things,
The single deed, the private sacrifice, As noisy once as we; poor ghosts of So radiant now through proudly-hid. kings,
den tears, Shadows of empire wholly gone to Is covered up erelong from mortal eyes dust,
With thoughtless drift of the deciduAnd many races, nameless long ago,
ous years ; To darkness driven by that imperious But that high privilege that makes all gust
men peers, Of ever-rushing Time that here doth That leap of heart whereby a people blow :
rise O visionary world, condition strange,
Up to a noble anger's height, Where naught abiding is but only And, flamed on by the Fates, not shrink, Change,
but grow more bright, Where the deep-bolted stars themselves That swift validity in noble veins, still shift and range!
Of choosing danger and disdaining Shall we to more continuance make
shame, pretence ?
Of being set on flame Renown builds tombs ; a life-estate is By the pure fire that flies all contact Wit;
base, And, bit by bit,
But wraps its chosen with angelic might, The cunning years steal all from us but
These are imperishable gains, woe;
Sure as the sun, medicinal as light, Leaves are we, whose decays no har- These hold great futures in their lusty vest sow.
... reins But, when we vanish hence, And certify to earth a new imperial race, Shall they lie forceless in the dark
below, Save to make green their little length of sods,
Who now shall sneer? Or deepen pansies for a year or two, Who dare again to say we trace Who now to us are shining-sweet as Our lines to a plebeian race? gods?
Roundhead and Cavalier ! Was dying all they had the skill to do? | Dumb are those names erewhile in battle That were not fruitless : but the Soul
Dream-footed as the shadow of a cloud, Such short-lived service, as if blind They flit across the ear : events
That is best blood that hath most iron Ruled without her, or earth could so
in 't. endure;
To edge resolve with, pouring without She claims a more divine investiture
stint Of longer tenure than Fame's airy For what makes manhood dear. rents;
Tell us not of Plantagenets, Whate'er she touches doth her nature Hapsburgs, and Guelfs, whose thin bloods share ;
crawl Her inspiration haunts the ennobled Down from some victor in a borderair,
brawl ! Gives eyes to mountains blind, How poor their outworn coronets, Ears to the deaf earth, voices to the Matched with one leaf of that plain civic wind,
wreath And her clear trump sings succor Our brave for honor's blazon shall beeverywhere
queath, By lonely bivouacs to the wakeful Through whose desert a rescued Nation mind;
sets For soul inherits all that soul could Her heel on treason, and the trumpet dare :
Shout victory, tingling Europe's sullen | Katahdin tell Monadnock, Whiteears
face he, With vain resentments and more vain And so leap on in light from sea to sea, regrets!
Till the glad news be sent
Across a kindling continent, Making earth feel more firm and air
breathe braver: Not in anger, not in pride, “ Be proud ! for she is saved, and all Pure from passion's mixture rude
have helped to save her! Ever to base earth allied,
She that lifts up the manhood of But with far-heard gratitude, .
the poor, Still with heart and voice renewed, She of the open soul and open door, To heroes living and dear martyrs With room about her hearth for all dead,
mankind ! The strain should close that consecrates The fire is dreadful in her eyes no our brave.
more; Lift the heart and lift the head !
From her bold front the helm she Lofty be its mood and grave,
doth unbind, Not without a martial ring,
Sends all her handmaid armies back Not without a prouder tread
to spin, And a peal of exultation :
And bids her navies, that so lately Little right has he to sing
hurled Through whose heart in such an Their crashing battle, hold their hour
thunders in, Beats no march of conscious Swimming like birds of calm along power,
the unharmful shore. Sweeps no tumult of elation ! No challenge sends she to the elder 'T is no Man we celebrate,
world, By his country's victories great, That looked askance and hated ; a A hero half, and half the whim of
light scorn Fate,
Plays o'er her mouth, as round her But the pith and marrow of a
mighty knees Nation
She calls her children back, and Drawing force from all her men,
waits the morn
XII. Touched but in passing by her mantle- Bow down, dear Land, for thou hast hem.
found release! Come back, then, noble pride, for 't is Thy God, in these distempered days, her dower!
Hath taught thee the sure wisdom of
No poorest in thy borders but may now Boom, cannon, boom to all the winds Lift" to the juster skies a man's enfranand waves!
chised brow, Clash out, glad bells, from every rock- O Beautiful ! my Country ! ours once ing steeple !
more! Banners, adance with triumph, bend Smoothing thy gold of war-dishevelled your staves !
hair And from every mountain-peak O'er such sweet brows as never other Let beacon-fire to answering beacon
And letting thy set lips,