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The world advances, and in time out. | The time is ripe, and rotten-rire, for grows
change; The laws that in our fathers' day were then let it come: I have no dread of best;
what And, doubtless, after us, some purer is called for by the instinct of mankind; scheme
Nor think I that God's world will fall Will be shaped out by wiser men than apart we,
Because we tear a parchment more or Made wiser by the steady growth of| less. truth.
Truth is eternal, but her effluence, We cannot hale Utopia on by force; With endless change, is fitted to the But better, almost, be at work in sin,
hour; Than in a brute inaction browse and Her mirror is turned forward to reflect sleep.
The promise of the future, not the past. No man is born into the world whose He who would win the name of truly work
great Is not born with him ; there is always Must understand his own age and the work,
next, And tools to work withal, for those who And make the present ready to fulfil will ;
Its prophecy, and with the future merge And blessed are the horny hands of toil! Gently and peacefully, as wave with The busy world shoves angrily aside
wave. The man who stands with arms akimbo The future works out great men's purset,
poses; Until occasion tells him what to do; The present is enough for common souls, And he who waits to have his task Who, never looking forward, are indeed marked out
Mere clay, wherein the footprints of Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.
their age Our time is one that calls for earnest | Are petrified forever : better those deeds:
Who lead the blind old giant by the Reason and Government, like two broad seas,
From out the pathless desert where he Yearn for each other with outstretchëd gropes, arms
And set him onward in his dark some Across this narrow isthmus of the throne, way. And roll their white surf higher every I do not fear to follow out the truth, day.
Albeit along the precipice's edge. One age moves onward, and the next Let us speak plain : there is more force builds up
in names Cities and gorgeous palaces, where stood Than most men dream of ; and a lie may The rude log-huts of those who tamed keep the wild,
Its throne a whole age longer, if it skulk Rearing from out the forests they had Behind the shield of some fair-seeming felled
name. The goodly framework of a fairer state ; Let us call tyrants tyrants, and mainThe builder's trowel and the settler's axe tain Are seldom wielded by the selfsame That only freedom comes by grace of hand;
God, Ours is the harder task, yet not the less And all that comes not by his grace must Shall we receive the blessing for our toil / fall; From the choice spirits of the aftertime. For men in earnest have no time to waste My soul is not a palace of the past, In patching fig-leaves for the naked Where outworn creeds, like Rome's gray truth.
senate, quake, Hearing afarthe Vandal'strumpet hoarse, “I will have one more grapple with That shakes old systems with a thunder
the man fit.
| Charles Stuart : whom the boy o'ercame,
The man stands not in awe of. I, per- Nor could they but for this same prophchance,
ecy, Am one raised up by the Almighty arm This inward feeling of the glorious end. To witness some great truth to all the world.
“Deem me not fond; but in my Souls destined to o’erleap the vulgar lot, warmer youth, And mould the world unto the scheme Ere my heart's bloom was soiled and of God,
brushed away, Have a fore-consciousness of their high I had great dreams of mighty things to doom,
come; As men are known to shiver at the heart Of conquest, whether by the sword or When the cold shadow of some coming pen ill
I knew not; but some conquest I would Creeps slowly o'er their spirits unawares. have, Hath Good less power of prophecy than or else swift death: now wiser grown in Ill?
years, How else could men whom God hath I find youth's dreams are but the flutcalled to sway
terings Earth's rudder, and to steer the bark of Of those strong wings whereon the soul Truth,
shall soar Beating against the tempest tow'rd her | In after time to win a starry throne; port,
| And so I cherish them, for they were lots, Bear all the mean and buzzing griev- Which I, a boy, cast in the helm of ances,
Fate. The petty martyrdoms, wherewith Sin Now will I draw them, since a man's strives
right hand, To weary out the tethered hope of Faith? A right hand guided by an earnest soul, The sneers, the unrecognizing look of With a true instinct, takes the golden friends,
prize Who worship the dead corpse of old king From out a thousand blanks. What Custom,
men call luck Where it doth lie in state within the Is the prerogative of valiant souls, Church,
The fealty life pays its rightful kings. Striving to cover up the mighty ocean The helm is shaking now, and I will stay With a man's palm, and making even | To pluck my lot forth; it were sin to the truth
flee!” Lie for them, holding up the glass reversed,
So they two turned together; one to To make the hope of man seem farther | die, off ?
Fighting for freedom on the bloody field; My God! when I read o'er the bitter lives The other, far more happy, to become Of men whose eager hearts were quite A name earth wears forever next her too great
heart; To beat beneath the cramped mode of One of the few that have a right to rank the day,
With the true Makers: for his spirit And see them mocked at by the world wrought they love,
Order from Chaos; proved that right Haggling with prejudice for penny divine worths
Dwelt only in the excellence of truth; Of that reform which their hard toil will And far within old Darkness' hostile make
lines The common birthright of the age to Advanced and pitched the shining tents come,
of Light When I see this, spite of my faith in Nor shall the grateful Muse forget to
God, I marvel how their hearts bear up so That — not the least among his many long;
To deathless honor – he was Milton's Lo, I am tall and strong, well skilled to friend,
hunt. A man not second among those who Patient of toil and hunger, and not yet lived
Have seen the danger which I dared not To show us that the poet's lyre demands look An arm of tougher sinew than the sword. Full in the face; what hinders me to be
A mighty Brave and Chief among my
kin?" A CHIPPEWA LEGEND. | So, taking up his arrows and his bow,
As if to hunt, he journeyed swiftly on, αλγεινά μέν μοι και λέγειν εστίν τάδε
Until he gained the wigwams of his άλγος δε σιγαν. Æschylus, Prom. Vinct. 197, 198. tribe,
Where, choosing out a bride, he soon The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh f orgot, his end,
In all the fret and bustle of new life, Called his two eldest children to his side, The little Sheemah and his father's And gave them, in few words, his parting charge.
charge! “My son and daughter, me ye see no Now when the sister found her brother more;
gone, The happy hunting-grounds await me, And that, for many days, he came not green
I back, With change of spring and summer She wept for Sheemah more than for through the year :
herself; But, for remembrance, after I am gone, For Love bides longest in a woman's Be kind to little Sheemah for my sake: heart, Weakling he is and young, and knows And flutters many times before he fies, not yet
And then doth perch so nearly, that a To set the trap, or draw the seasoned word bow;
May lure him back to his accustomed Therefore of both your loves he hath more need,
And Duty lingers even when Love is And he, who needeth love, to love hath
Oft looking out.in hope of his return; It is not like our furs and stores of corn, And, after Duty hath been driven forth, Whereto we claim sole title by our toil, Then Selfishness creeps in the last of all, But the Great Spirit plants it in our Warming her lean hands at the lonely hearts,
hearth, And waters it, and gives it sun, to be And crouching o'er the embers, to shut The common stock and heritage of all :
out Therefore be kind to Sheemah, that whatever paltry warmth and light are
yourselves May not be left deserted in your need.” With avaricious greed, from all beside.
So, for long months, the sister hunted Alone, beside a lake, their wigwam wide, stood,
| And cared for little Sheemah tenderly; Far from the other dwellings of their But, daily more and more, the loneliness tribe;
Grew wearisome, and to herself she And, after many moons, the loneliness
sighed, Wearied the elder brother, and he said, “Am I not fair? at least the glassy pool, “Why should I dwell here far from men, That hath no cause to flatter, tells me so; shut out
But, O, how flat and meaningless the tale, From the free, natural joys that fit my Unless it tremble on a lover's tongue !
Beauty hath no true glass, except it be
In the sweet privacy of loving eyes." . For the leading incidents in this tale I am indebted to the very valuable “ Algic
Thus deemed she idly, and forgot the Researches "of Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq. ..
Which she had learned of nature and the | Till, by degrees, the wolf and he grew woods,
friends, That beauty's chief reward is to itself, And shared together all the winter And that Love's mirror holds no image through.
long Save of the inward fairness, blurred and Late in the Spring, when all the ice lost
was gone, Unless kept clear and white by Duty's The elder brother, fishing in the lake,
| Upon whose edge his father's wigwam So she went forth and sought the haunts stood, of men,
Heard a low moaning noise upon the And, being wedded, in her household
Half like a child it seemed, half like a Soon, like the elder brother, quite forgot
wolf, The little Sheemah and her father's And straightway there was something in charge.
That said, “It is thy brother Sheemah's But Sheemah, left alone within the voice."
So, paddling swiftly to the bank, he saw, Waited and waited, with a shrinking Within a little thicket close at hand, heart,
A child that seemed fast changing to a Thinking each rustle was his sister's step, wolf, Till hope grew less and less, and then From the neck downward, gray with went out,
shaggy hair, And every sound was changed from hope That still crept on and upward as he to fear.
looked. Few sounds there were :-—the dropping The face was turned away, but well he of a nut,
knew The squirrel's chirrup, and the jay's That it was Sheemah's, even his brothharsh scream,
er's face. Autumn's sad remnants of blithe Sum. Then with his trembling hands he hid mer's cheer,
his eyes, Heard at long intervals, seemed but to And bowed his head, so that he might make
not see The dreadful void of silence silenter. The first look of his brother's eyes, and Soon what small store his sister left was cried, gone,
“O Sheemah! O my brother, speak to And, through the Autumn, he made shift ine! to live
Dost thou not know me, that I am thy On roots and berries, gathered in much brother? fear
Come to me, little Sheemah, thou shalt Of wolves, whose ghastly howl he heard dwell ofttimes,
With me henceforth, and know no care Hollow and hungry, at the dead of night. or want!" But Winter came at last, and, when the Sheemah was silent for a space, as if snow,
'T were hard to summon up a human Thick-heaped for gleaming leagues o'er voice, hill and plain,
And, when he spake, the voice was as Spread its unbroken silence over all,
a wolfs: Made bold by hunger, he was fain to glean “I know thee not, nor art thou what (More sick at heart than Ruth, and all thou say'st; alone)
I have none other brethren than the After the harvest of the merciless wolf,
wolves, Grim Boaz, who, sharp-ribbed and gaunt, And, till thy heart be changed from yet feared
what it is, A thing more wild and starving than Thou art not worthy to be called their
Then groaned the other, with a choking Now thumps like solid rock beneath the tongue,
stern, “Alas ! my heart is changed right bit. Now leaps with clumsy wrath, strikes terly;
short, and, falling 'T is shrunk and parched within me Crumbled to whispery foam, slips ruseven now !”
tling down And, looking upward fearfully, he saw The broad backs of the waves, which Only a wolf that shrank away and ran,
jostle and crowd Ugly and fierce, to hide among the To fling themselves upon that unknown woods.
shore, Their used familiar since the dawn of
time, STANZAS ON FREEDOM. Whither this foredoomed life is guided MEN! whose boast it is that ye To sway on triumph's hushed, aspiring Come of fathers brave and free,
poise If there breathe on earth a slave, One glittering moment, then to break Are ye truly free and brave?
fulfilled. If ye do not feel the chain, When it works a brother's pain, How lonely is the sea's perpetual swing, Are ye not base slaves indeed,
The melancholy wash of endless waves, Slaves unworthy to be freed?
The sigh of some grim monster unde
scried, Women! who shall one day bear Fear-painted on the canvas of the dark, Sons to breathe New England air, Shifting on his uneasy pillow of brine ! If ye hear, without a blush,
Yet night brings more companions than Deeds to make the roused blood rush
the day Like red lava through your veins, To this drear waste ; new constellations For your sisters now in chains, —
burn, Answer ! are ye fit to be
And fairer stars, with whose calm height Mothers of the brave and free?
Finds nearer sympathy than with my Is true Freedom but to break
herd Fetters for our own dear sake, Of earthen souls, whose vision's scanty And, with leathern hearts, forget
ring · That we owe mankind a debt ? Makes me its prisoner to beat my wings No! true freedom is to share
Against the cold bars of their unbeAll the chains our brothers wear,
lief, And, with heart and hand, to be Knowing in vain my own free heaven Earnest to make others free !
O God! this world, so crammed with They are slaves who fear to speak L
eager life, For the fallen and the weak;
| That comes and goes and wanders back They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
Like the idle wind, which yet man's Rather than in silence shrink
shaping mind From the truth they needs must think ; Can make his drudge to swell the longThey are slaves who dare not be
ing sails In the right with two or three. Of highest endeavor, - this mad, un
Which, every hour, throws life enough COLUMBUS.
To make her deserts kind and hospitaThe cordage creaks and rattles in the ble, wind,
| Lets her great destinies be waved aside With whims of sudden hush; the reel- By smooth, lip-reverent, formal infi. ing sea