I stood and gazed far out into the waste;No dip of oar broke on the listening ear;But the quick rippling of the inward floodGave warning of approaching argosy.Adown the west, the day's last fleeting gleamFaded and died, and left the world in gloom.Hope hung no star up in the murky eastTo cheer the soul, or guide the pilgrim's way.Black frown'd the heavens, and black the answering earthReflected from her watery wastes the night.Sudden, a plash! then silence. Once againThe dripping oar dipped in its silver blade,Parting the waves, as smiles part beauty's lips.Betwixt me and the curtain of the cloud,Close down by the horizon's verge, there creptFrom out the darkness, barge and crew and freight,Sailless and voiceless, all!Ah! Then I knewI stood upon the brink of Time. I sawBefore me Death's swift river sweep alongAnd bear its burden to the grave."Elaine!"One seamew screamed, in solitary woe;"Elaine! Elaine!" stole back the echo, weirdAnd musical, from off the further shore.Then burst a chorus wild, "Elaine! Elaine!"And gazing upward through the twilight haze,Mine eyes beheld King Arthur's phantom Court.There stood the sturdy monarch: he who droveThe hordes of Hengist from old Albion's strand;And, leaning on his stalwart arm, his queen,The fair, the false, but trusted Guinevere!And there, like the statue of a demi-god,In marble wrought by some old Grecian hand,With eyes downcast, towered Lancelot of the Lake.Lavaine and Torre, the heirs of Astolat,And he, the sorrowing Sire of the Dead,Together with a throng of valiant knightsAnd ladies fair, were gathered as of yore,At the Round Table of bold Arthur's Court.There, too, was Tristram, leaning on his lance,Whose eyes alone of all that weeping hostSwam not in tears; but indignation burnedRed in their sockets, like volcanic fires,And from their blazing depths a Fury shotHer hissing arrows at the guilty pair.Then Lancelot, advancing to the front,With glance transfixed upon the canvas trueThat sheds immortal fame on Rosenthal,Thus chanted forth his Requiem for the Dead:Fresh as the water in the fountain,Fair as the lily by its side,Pure as the snow upon the mountain,Is the angelElaine!My spirit bride!Day after day she grew fairer,As she pined away in sorrow, at my side;No pearl in the ocean could be rarerThan the angelElaine!My spirit bride!The hours passed away all unheeded,For love hath no landmarks in its tide.No child of misfortune ever pleadedIn vainTo Elaine!My spirit bride!Here, where sad Tamesis is rollingThe wave of its sorrow-laden tide,Forever on the air is heard tollingThe refrainOf Elaine!My spirit bride!
I stood and gazed far out into the waste;No dip of oar broke on the listening ear;But the quick rippling of the inward floodGave warning of approaching argosy.
I stood and gazed far out into the waste;No dip of oar broke on the listening ear;But the quick rippling of the inward floodGave warning of approaching argosy.
Adown the west, the day's last fleeting gleamFaded and died, and left the world in gloom.Hope hung no star up in the murky eastTo cheer the soul, or guide the pilgrim's way.Black frown'd the heavens, and black the answering earthReflected from her watery wastes the night.
Sudden, a plash! then silence. Once againThe dripping oar dipped in its silver blade,Parting the waves, as smiles part beauty's lips.Betwixt me and the curtain of the cloud,Close down by the horizon's verge, there creptFrom out the darkness, barge and crew and freight,Sailless and voiceless, all!Ah! Then I knewI stood upon the brink of Time. I sawBefore me Death's swift river sweep alongAnd bear its burden to the grave."Elaine!"One seamew screamed, in solitary woe;"Elaine! Elaine!" stole back the echo, weirdAnd musical, from off the further shore.Then burst a chorus wild, "Elaine! Elaine!"And gazing upward through the twilight haze,Mine eyes beheld King Arthur's phantom Court.There stood the sturdy monarch: he who droveThe hordes of Hengist from old Albion's strand;And, leaning on his stalwart arm, his queen,The fair, the false, but trusted Guinevere!And there, like the statue of a demi-god,In marble wrought by some old Grecian hand,With eyes downcast, towered Lancelot of the Lake.Lavaine and Torre, the heirs of Astolat,And he, the sorrowing Sire of the Dead,Together with a throng of valiant knightsAnd ladies fair, were gathered as of yore,At the Round Table of bold Arthur's Court.There, too, was Tristram, leaning on his lance,Whose eyes alone of all that weeping hostSwam not in tears; but indignation burnedRed in their sockets, like volcanic fires,And from their blazing depths a Fury shotHer hissing arrows at the guilty pair.Then Lancelot, advancing to the front,With glance transfixed upon the canvas trueThat sheds immortal fame on Rosenthal,Thus chanted forth his Requiem for the Dead:
Fresh as the water in the fountain,Fair as the lily by its side,Pure as the snow upon the mountain,Is the angelElaine!My spirit bride!
Day after day she grew fairer,As she pined away in sorrow, at my side;No pearl in the ocean could be rarerThan the angelElaine!My spirit bride!
The hours passed away all unheeded,For love hath no landmarks in its tide.No child of misfortune ever pleadedIn vainTo Elaine!My spirit bride!
Here, where sad Tamesis is rollingThe wave of its sorrow-laden tide,Forever on the air is heard tollingThe refrainOf Elaine!My spirit bride!
A LEAF FROM A REPORTER'S NOTE-BOOK.
For the past five or six weeks, rumors of a strange abnormal development of the powers of vision of a youth named Johnny Palmer, whose parents reside at South San Francisco, have been whispered around in scientific circles in the city, and one or two short notices have appeared in the columns of some of our contemporaries relative to the prodigiouslusus naturæ, as the scientists call it.
Owing to the action taken by the California College of Sciences, whose members comprise some of our most scientific citizens, the affair has assumed such importance as to call for a careful and exhaustive investigation.
Being detailed to investigate the flying stories, with regard to the powers of vision claimed for a lad named John or "Johnny" Palmer, as his parents call him, we first of all ventured to send in our card to Professor Gibbins, the President of the California College of Sciences. It is always best to call at the fountain-head for useful information, a habit which our two hundred thousand readers on this coast can never fail to see and appreciate. An estimable gentleman of the African persuasion, to whom we handed our "pasteboard," soon returned with the polite message, "Yes, sir;in. Please walk up." And so we followed our conductor through several passages almost as dark as the face of thecicerone, and in a few moments found ourselves in the presence of, perhaps, the busiest man in the city of San Francisco.
Without any flourish of trumpets, the Professor inquired our object in seeking him and the information we desired. "Ah," said he, "that is a long story. I have no time to go into particulars just now. I am computing the final sheet of Professor Davidson's report of the Transit of Venus, last year, at Yokohama and Loo-Choo. It must be ready before May, and it requires six months' work to do it correctly."
"But," I rejoined, "can't you tell me where the lad is to be found?"
"And if I did, they will not let you see him."
"Let me alone for that," said I, smiling; "a reporter, like love, finds his way where wolves would fear to tread."
"Really, my dear sir," quickly responded the Doctor, "I have no time to chat this morning. Our special committee submitted its report yesterday, which is on file in that book-case; and if you will promise not to publish it until after it has been read in open session of the College, you may take it to your sanctum, run it over, and clip from it enough to satisfy the public for the present."
Saying this, he rose from his seat, opened the case, took from a pigeon-hole a voluminous written document tied up with red tape, and handed it to me, adding, "Be careful!" Seating himself without another word, he turned his back on me, and I sallied forth into the street.
Reaching the office, I scrutinized the writing on the envelope, and found it as follows: "Report of Special Committee—Boy Palmer—Vision—Laws of Light—FiledFebruary 10, 1876—Stittmore, Sec." Opening the document, I saw at once that it was a full, accurate, and, up to the present time, complete account of the phenomenal case I was after, and regretted the promise made not to publish the entire report until read in open session of the College. Therefore, I shall be compelled to give the substance of the report in my own words, only givingverbatimnow and then a few scientific phrases which are not fully intelligible to me, or susceptible of circumlocution in common language.
The report is signed by Doctors Bryant, Gadbury and Golson, three of our ablest medical men, and approved by Professor Smyth, the oculist. So far, therefore, as authenticity and scientific accuracy are concerned, our readers may rely implicitly upon the absolute correctness of every fact stated and conclusion reached.
The first paragraph of the report gives the name of the child, "John Palmer, age, nine years, and place of residence, South San Francisco, Culp Hill, near Catholic Orphan Asylum;" and then plunges at once intoin medias res.
It appears that the period through which the investigation ran was only fifteen days; but it seems to have been so thorough, by the use of the ophthalmoscope and other modern appliances and tests, that no regrets ought to be indulged as to the brevity of the time employed in experiments. Besides, we have superadded a short and minute account of our own, verifying some of the most curious facts reported, with several tests proposed by ourselves and not included in the statement of the scientific committee.
To begin, then, with the beginning of the inquiries by the committee. They were conducted into a small back room, darkened by old blankets hung up at the window,for the purpose of the total exclusion of daylight; an absurd remedy for blindness, recommended by a noted quack whose name adorns the extra fly-leaf of the San FranciscoTruth Teller. The lad was reclining upon an old settee, ill-clad and almost idiotic in expression. As the committee soon ascertained, his mother only was at home, the father being absent at his customary occupation—that of switch-tender on the San Jose Railroad. She notified her son of the presence of strangers and he rose and walked with a firm step toward where the gentlemen stood, at the entrance of the room. He shook them all by the hand and bade them good morning. In reply to questions rapidly put and answered by his mother, the following account of the infancy of the boy and the accidental discovery of his extraordinary powers of vision was given:
He was born in the house where the committee found him, nine years ago the 15th of last January. Nothing of an unusual character occurred until his second year, when it was announced by a neighbor that the boy was completely blind, his parents never having been suspicious of the fact before that time, although the mother declared that for some months anterior to the discovery she had noticed some acts of the child that seemed to indicate mental imbecility rather than blindness. From this time forward until a few months ago nothing happened to vary the boy's existence except a new remedy now and then prescribed by neighbors for the supposed malady. He was mostly confined to a darkened chamber, and was never trusted alone out of doors. He grew familiar, by touch and sound, with the forms of most objects about him, and could form very accurate guesses of the color and texture of them all. His conversational powers did not seem greatly impaired, andhe readily acquired much useful knowledge from listening attentively to everything that was said in his presence. He was quite a musician, and touched the harmonicon, banjo and accordeon with skill and feeling. He was unusually sensitive to the presence of light, though incapable of seeing any object with any degree of distinctness; and hence the attempt to exclude light as the greatest enemy to the recovery of vision. It was very strange that up to the time of the examination of the committee, no scientific examination of the boy's eye had been made by a competent oculist, the parents contenting themselves with the chance opinions of visitors or the cheap nostrums of quacks. It is perhaps fortunate for science that this was the case, as a cure for the eye might have been an extinction of its abnormal power.
On the evening of the 12th of December last (1875), the position of the child's bed was temporarily changed to make room for a visitor. The bed was placed against the wall of the room, fronting directly east, with the window opening at the side of the bed next to the head. The boy was sent to bed about seven o'clock, and the parents and their visitor were seated in the front room, spending the evening in social intercourse. The moon rose full and cloudless about half-past seven o'clock, and shone full in the face of the sleeping boy.
Something aroused him from slumber, and when he opened his eyes the first object they encountered was the round disk of her orb. By some oversight the curtain had been removed from the window, and probably for the first time in his life he beheld the lustrous queen of night swimming in resplendent radiance, and bathing hill and bay in effulgent glory. Uttering a cry, equally of terror and delight, he sprang up in bed andsat there like a statue, with eyes aglare, mouth open, finger pointed, and astonishment depicted on every feature. His sudden, sharp scream brought his mother to his side, who tried for some moments in vain to distract his gaze from the object before him. Failing even to attract notice, she called in her husband and friend, and together they besought the boy to lie down and go to sleep, but to no avail. Believing him to be ill and in convulsions, they soon seized him, and were on the point of immersing him in a hot bath, when, with a sudden spring, he escaped from their grasp and ran out the front door. Again he fixed his unwinking eyes upon the moon, and remained speechless for several seconds. At length, having seemingly satisfied his present curiosity, he turned on his mother, who stood wringing her hands in the doorway and moaning piteously, and exclaimed, "I can see the moon yonder, and it is so beautiful that I am going there to-morrow morning, as soon as I get up."
"How big does it look?" said his mother.
"So big," he replied, "that I cannot see it all at one glance—as big as all out of doors."
"How far off from you does it seem to be?"
"About half a car's distance," he quickly rejoined.
It may be here remarked that the boy's idea of distance had been measured all his life by the distance from his home to the street-car station at the foot of the hill. This was about two hundred yards, so that the reply indicated that the moon appeared to be only one hundred yards from the spectator. The boy then proceeded of his own accord to give a very minute description of the appearance of objects which he beheld, corresponding, of course, to his poverty of words with which to clothe his ideas.
His account of things beheld by him was so curious, wonderful and apparently accurate, that the little group about him passed rapidly from a conviction of his insanity to a belief no less absurd—that he had become, in the cant lingo of the day, a seeing, or "clairvoyant" medium. Such was the final conclusion to which his parents had arrived at the time of the visit of the scientific committee. He had been classed with that credulous school known to this century as spiritualists, and had been visited solely by persons of that ilk heretofore.
The committee having fully examined the boy, and a number of independent witnesses, as to the facts, soon set about a scientific investigation of the true causes of of the phenomenon. The first step, of course, was to examine the lad's eye with the modern ophthalmoscope, an invention of Professor Helmholtz, of Heidelberg, a few years ago, by means of which the depths of this organ can be explored, and the smallest variations from a healthy or normal condition instantaneously detected.
The mode of using the instrument is as follows: The room is made perfectly dark; a brilliant light is then placed near the head of the patient, and the rays are reflected by a series of small mirrors into his eye, as if they came from the eye of the observer; then, by looking through the central aperture of the instrument, the oculist can examine the illuminated interior of the eyeball, and perceive every detail of structure, healthy or morbid, as accurately and clearly as we can see any part of the exterior of the body. No discomfort arises to the organ examined, and all its hidden mysteries can be studied and understood as clearly as those of any other organ of the body.
This course was taken with John Palmer, and the true secret of his mysterious power of vision detected in an instant.
On applying the ophthalmoscope, the committee ascertained in a moment that the boy's eye was abnormally shaped. A natural, perfect eye is perfectly round. But the eye examined was exceedingly flat, very thin, with large iris, flat lens, immense petira, and wonderfully dilated pupil. The effect of the shape was at once apparent. It was utterly impossible to see any object with distinctness at any distance short of many thousands of miles. Had the eye been elongated inward, or shaped like an egg—to as great an extent, the boy would have been effectually blind, for no combination of lens power could have placed the image of the object beyond the coat of the retina. In other words, there are two common imperfections of the human organ of sight; one calledmyopia, or "near-sightedness;" thepresbyopia, or "far-sightedness."
"The axis being too long," says the report, "in myopic eyes, parallel rays, such as proceed from distant objects, are brought to a focus at a point so far in front of the retina, that only confused images are formed upon it. Such a malformation, constituting an excess of refractive power, can only be neutralized by concave glasses, which give such a direction to rays entering the eye as will allow of their being brought to a focus at a proper point for distant perception."
"Presbyopia is the reverse of all this. The antero-posterior axis of such eyes being too short, owing to the flat plate-like shape of the ball, their refractive power is not sufficient to bring even parallel rays to a focus upon the retina, but is adapted for convergent rays only. Convex glasses, in a great measure, compensate for this quality by rendering parallel rays convergent; and such glasses, in ordinary cases, bring the rays to a focus at a convenient distance from the glass,corresponding to its degree of curvature." But in the case under examination, no glass or combination of glasses could be invented sufficiently concave to remedy the malformation. By a mathematical problem of easy solution, it was computed that the nearest distance from the unaided eye of the patient at which a distinct image could be formed upon the retina, was two hundred and forty thousand miles, a fraction short of the mean distance of the moon from the earth; and hence it became perfectly clear that the boy could see with minute distinctness whatever was transpiring on the surface of the moon.
Such being the undeniable truth as demonstrated by science, the declaration of the lad assumed a far higher value than the mere dicta of spiritualists, or the mad ravings of a monomaniac; and the committee at once set to work to glean all the astronomical knowledge they could by frequent and prolonged night interviews with the boy.
It was on the night of January 9, 1876, that the first satisfactory experiment was tried, testing beyond all cavil or doubt the powers of the subject's eye. It was full moon, and that luminary rose clear and dazzlingly bright. The committee were on hand at an early hour, and the boy was in fine condition and exuberant spirits. The interview was secret, and none but the members of the committee and the parents of the child were present. Of course the first proposition to be settled was that of the inhabitability of that sphere. This the boy had frequently declared was the case, and he had on several previous occasions described minutely the form, size and means of locomotion of the Lunarians. On this occasion he repeated in almost the same language, what he had before related to his parents andfriends, but was more minute, owing to the greater transparency of the atmosphere and the experience in expression already acquired.
The Lunarians are not formed at all like ourselves. They are less in height, and altogether of a different appearance. When fully grown, they resemble somewhat a chariot wheel, with four spokes, converging at the center or axle. They have four eyes in the head, which is the axle, so to speak, and all the limbs branch out directly from the center, like some sea-forms known as "Radiates." They move by turning rapidly like a wheel, and travel as fast as a bird through the air. The children are undeveloped in form, and are perfectly round, like a pumpkin or orange. As they grow older, they seem to drop or absorb the rotundity of the whole body, and finally assume the appearance of a chariot wheel.
They are of different colors, or nationalities—bright red, orange and blue being the predominant hues. The reds are in a large majority. They do no work, but sleep every four or five hours. They have no houses, and need none. They have no clothing, and do not require it. There being no night on the side of the moon fronting the sun, and no day on the opposite side, all the inhabitants, apparently at a given signal of some kind, form into vast armies, and flock in myriads to the sleeping grounds on the shadow-side of the planet. They do not appear to go very far over the dark rim, for they reappear in immense platoons in a few hours, and soon spread themselves over the illuminated surface. They sleep and wake about six times in one ordinary day of twenty-four hours. Their occupations cannot be discerned; they must be totally different from anything upon the earth.
The surface of the moon is all hill and hollow. There are but few level spots, nor is there any water visible. The atmosphere is almost as refined and light as hydrogen gas. There is no fire visible, nor are there any volcanoes. Most of the time of the inhabitants seems to be spent in playing games of locomotion, spreading themselves into squares, circles, triangles, and other mathematical figures. They move always in vast crowds. No one or two are ever seen separated from the main bodies. The children also flock in herds, and seem to be all of one family. Individualism is unknown. They seem to spawn like herring or shad, or to be propagated like bees, from the queen, in myriads. Motion is their normal condition. The moment after a mathematical figure is formed, it is dissolved, and fresh combinations take place, like the atoms in a kaleidoscope. No other species of animal, bird, or being exist upon the illuminated face of the moon.
The shrubbery and vegetation of the moon is all metallic. Vegetable life nowhere exists; but the forms of some of the shrubs and trees are exceedingly beautiful. The highest trees do not exceed twenty-five feet, and they appear to have all acquired their full growth. The ground is strewn with flowers, but they are all formed of metals—gold, silver, copper, and tin predominating. But there is a new kind of metal seen everywhere on tree, shrub and flower, nowhere known on the earth. It is of a bright vermilion color, and is semi-transparent. The mountains are all of bare and burnt granite, and appear to have been melted with fire. The committee called the attention of the boy to the bright "sea of glass" lately observed near the northern rim of the moon, and inquired of what it is composed. He examined it carefully, and gave such a minute descriptionof it that it became apparent at once to the committee that it was pure mercury or quicksilver. The reason why it has but very recently shown itself to astronomers is thus accounted for: it appears close up to the line of demarcation separating the light and shadow upon the moon's disk; and on closer inspection a distinct cataract of the fluid—in short, a metallic Niagara, was clearly seen falling from the night side to the day side of the luminary. It has already filled up a vast plain—one of the four that exist on the moon's surface—and appears to be still emptying itself with very great rapidity and volume. It covers an area of five by seven hundred miles in extent, and may possibly deluge one half the entire surface of the moon. It does not seem to occasion much apprehension to the inhabitants, as they were soon skating, so to speak, in platoons and battalions, over and across it. In fact, it presents the appearance of an immense park, to which the Lunarians flock, and disport themselves with great gusto upon its polished face. One of the most beautiful sights yet seen by the lad was the formation of a new figure, which he drew upon the sand with his finger.
The central heart was of crimson-colored natives; the one to the right of pale orange, and the left of bright blue. It was ten seconds in forming, and five seconds in dispersing. The number engaged in the evolution could not be less than half a million.
Thus has been solved one of the great astronomical questions of the century.
The next evening the committee assembled earlier, so as to get a view of the planet Venus before the moon rose. It was the first time that the lad's attention had been drawn to any of the planets, and he evinced the liveliest joy when he first beheld the cloudless disk ofthat resplendent world. It may here be stated that his power of vision, in looking at the fixed stars, was no greater or less than that of an ordinary eye. They appeared only as points of light, too far removed into the infinite beyond to afford any information concerning their properties. But the committee were doomed to a greater disappointment when they inquired of the boy what he beheld on the surface of Venus. He replied, "Nothing clearly; all is confused and watery; I see nothing with distinctness." The solution of the difficulty was easily apprehended, and at once surmised. The focus of the eye was fixed by nature at 240,000 miles, and the least distance of Venus from the earth being 24,293,000 miles, it was, of course, impossible to observe that planet's surface with distinctness. Still she appeared greatly enlarged, covering about one hundredth part of the heavens, and blazing with unimaginable splendor.
Experiments upon Jupiter and Mars were equally futile, and the committee half sorrowfully turned again to the inspection of the moon.
The report then proceeds at great length to give full descriptions of the most noted geographical peculiarities of the lunar surface, and corrects many errors fallen into by Herschel, Leverrier and Proctor. Professor Secchi informs us that the surface of the moon is much better known to astronomers than the surface of the earth is to geographers; for there are two zones on the globe within the Arctic and Antarctic circles, that we can never examine. But every nook and cranny of the illuminated face of the moon has been fully delineated, examined and named, so that no object greater than sixty feet square exists but has been seen and photographed by means of Lord Rosse's telescope and De laRuis' camera and apparatus. As the entire report will be ordered published at the next weekly meeting of the College, we refrain from further extracts, but now proceed to narrate the results of our own interviews with the boy.
It was on the evening of the 17th of February, 1876, that we ventured with rather a misgiving heart to approach Culp Hill, and the humble residence of a child destined, before the year is out, to become the most celebrated of living beings. We armed ourselves with a pound of sugar candy for the boy, somemuslin-de-laineas a present to the mother, and a box of cigars for the father. We also took with us a very large-sized opera-glass, furnished for the purpose by M. Muller. At first we encountered a positive refusal; then, on exhibiting the cigars, a qualified negative; and finally, when the muslin and candy were drawn on the enemy, we were somewhat coldly invited in and proffered a seat. The boy was pale and restless, and his eyes without bandage or glasses. We soon ingratiated ourself into the good opinion of the whole party, and henceforth encountered no difficulty in pursuing our investigations. The moon being nearly full, we first of all verified the tests by the committee. These were all perfectly satisfactory and reliable. Requesting, then, to stay until after midnight, for the purpose of inspecting Mars with the opera-glass, we spent the interval in obtaining the history of the child, which we have given above.
The planet Mars being at this time almost in dead opposition to the sun, and with the earth in conjunction, is of course as near to the earth as he ever approaches, the distance being thirty-five millions of miles. He rises toward midnight, and is in the constellationVirgo, where he may be seen to the greatest possible advantage, being in perigee. Mars is most like the earth of all the planetary bodies. He revolves on his axis in a little over twenty-four hours, and his surface is pleasantly variegated with land and water, pretty much like our own world—the land, however, being in slight excess. He is, therefore, the most interesting of all the heavenly bodies to the inhabitants of the earth.
Having all things in readiness, we directed the glass to the planet. Alas, for all our calculations, the power was insufficient to clear away the obscurity resulting from imperfect vision and short focus.
Swallowing the bitter disappointment, we hastily made arrangements for another interview, with a telescope, and bade the family good night.
There is but one large telescope properly mounted in the city, and that is the property and pride of its accomplished owner, J. P. Manrow, Esq. We at once procured an interview with that gentleman, and it was agreed that on Saturday evening the boy should be conveyed to his residence, picturesquely situated on Russian Hill, commanding a magnificent view of the Golden Gate and the ocean beyond.
At the appointed hour the boy, his parents and myself presented ourselves at the door of that hospitable mansion. We were cordially welcomed, and conducted without further parley into the lofty observatory on the top of the house. In due time the magnificent tube was presented at the planet, but it was discovered that the power it was set for was too low. It was then gauged for 240,000 diameters, being the full strength of the telescope, and the eye of the boy observer placed at the eye-glass. One cry of joy, and unalloyed delighttold the story! Mars, and its mountains and seas, its rivers, vales, and estuaries, its polar snow-caps and grassy plains—its inhabitants, palaces, ships, villages and cities, were all revealed, as distinctly, clearly and certainly, as the eye of Kit Carson, from the summits of the Sierra Nevada range, beheld the stupendous panorama of the Sacramento Valley, and the snow-clad summits of Mount Hood and Shasta Butte.
Chaos was ended. From its ruins rolledThe central Sun, poised on his throne of gold;The changeful Moon, that floods the hollow domeOf raven midnight with her silvery foam;Vast constellations swarming all around,In seas of azure, without line or bound,And this green globe, rock-ribbed and mountain-crown'd.The eye of God, before His hand had madeMan in His image, this wide realm surveyed;O'er hill and valley, over stream and wood,He glanced triumphant, and pronounced it "good."But ere He formed old Adam and his bride,He called a shining seraph to His side,And pointing to our world, that gleamed afar,And twinkled on creation's verge, a star,Bade him float 'round this new and narrow spanAnd bring report if all were ripe for Man.The angel spread his fluttering pinions fair,And circled thrice the circumambient air;Quick, then, as thought, he stood before the gateWhere cherubs burn, and minist'ring spirits wait.Nor long he stood, for God beheld his plume,Already tarnished by terrestrial gloom,And beck'ning kindly to the flurried aid,Said, "Speak your wish; if good, be it obeyed."The seraph raised his gem-encircled hand,Obeisance made, at heaven's august command,And thus replied, in tones so bold and clear,That angels turned and lent a listening ear:"Lord of all systems, be they near or far,Thrice have I circled 'round yon beauteous Star,I've seen its mountains rise, its rivers roll,Its oceans sweep majestic to each pole;Its floors in mighty continents expand,Or dwindle into specs of fairy-land;Its prairies spread, its forests stretch in pride,And all its valleys dazzle like a bride;Hymns have I heard in all its winds and streams,And beauty seen in all its rainbow gleams.But whilst the Landcan boast of every gemThat sparkles in each seraph's diadem;Whilst diamonds blaze 'neath dusk Golconda's skies,And rubies bleed where Alps and Andes rise;Whilst in Brazilian brooks the topaz shines,And opals burn in California mines;Whilst in the vales of Araby the BlestThe sapphire flames beside the amethyst:The pauper Ocean sobs forever more,Ungemm'd, unjeweled, on its wailing shore!""What wouldst thou do?" responded heaven's great King."Add music to the song the breakers sing!"The strong-soul'd seraph cried, "I'd make yon seaRival in tone heaven's sweetest minstrelsy;I'd plant within the ocean's bubbling tideAn island gem, of every sea the pride!So bright in robes of ever-living green,In breath so sweet, in features so serene,Such crystal streams to course its valleys fair,Such healthful gales to purify its air,Such fertile soil, such ever-verdant trees,Angels should name it 'Emerald of theSeas!'"The seraph paused, and downward cast his eyes,Whilst heav'nly hosts stood throbbing with surprise.Again the Lord of all the realms above,Supreme in might, but infinite in love,With no harsh accent in His tones replied:"Go, drop this Emerald in the envious tide!"Quick as the lightning cleaves the concave blue,The seraph seized the proffer'd gem, and flewUntil he reached the confines of the earth,Still struggling in the throes of turbid birth;And there, upon his self-sustaining wing,Sat poised, and heard our globe her matins sing;Beheld the sun traverse the arching sky,The sister Moon walk forth in majesty;Saw every constellation rise and rollAthwart the heaven, or circle round the pole.Nor did he move, until our spotted globeHad donned for him her morn and evening robe;Till on each land his critic eye was cast,And every ocean rose, and heav'd, and pass'd;Then, like some eagle pouncing on its prey,He downward sail'd, through bellowing clouds and spray,To where he saw the billows bounding free,And dropped the gem within the stormy sea!And would'st thou know, Chief of St. Patrick's band,Where fell this jewel from the seraph's hand?What ocean caught the world-enriching prize?O! Child of Moina, homeward cast your eyes!Lo! in the midst of wat'ry deserts wide,Behold the Emeraldbursting through the tide,And bearing on its ever vernal-sodThe monogram of seraph, and of God!Its name, the sweetest human lips e'er sung,First trembled on an angel's fervid tongue;Then chimed Æolian on the evening air,Lisped by an infant, in its mother prayer;Next roared in war, with battle's flag unfurl'd;Now, gemm'd with glory, gather'd through the world!What name! Perfidious Albion, blush with shame:It is thy sister's! Erin is the name!Once more the seraph stood before the throneOf dread Omnipotence, pensive and alone."What hast thou done?" Heaven's Monarch sadly sigh'd."I dropped the jewel in the flashing tide,"The seraph said; but saw with vision keenA mightier angel stalk upon the scene,Whose voice like grating thunder smote his earAnd taught his soul the mystery of fear."Because thy heart with impious pride did swell,And dared make better what thy God made well;Because thy hand did fling profanely downOn Earth a jewel wrenched from Heaven's bright crown,The Isle which thine own fingers did createShall reap a blessing and a curse from fate!"
Chaos was ended. From its ruins rolledThe central Sun, poised on his throne of gold;The changeful Moon, that floods the hollow domeOf raven midnight with her silvery foam;Vast constellations swarming all around,In seas of azure, without line or bound,And this green globe, rock-ribbed and mountain-crown'd.
Chaos was ended. From its ruins rolledThe central Sun, poised on his throne of gold;The changeful Moon, that floods the hollow domeOf raven midnight with her silvery foam;Vast constellations swarming all around,In seas of azure, without line or bound,And this green globe, rock-ribbed and mountain-crown'd.
The eye of God, before His hand had madeMan in His image, this wide realm surveyed;O'er hill and valley, over stream and wood,He glanced triumphant, and pronounced it "good."But ere He formed old Adam and his bride,He called a shining seraph to His side,And pointing to our world, that gleamed afar,And twinkled on creation's verge, a star,Bade him float 'round this new and narrow spanAnd bring report if all were ripe for Man.The angel spread his fluttering pinions fair,And circled thrice the circumambient air;Quick, then, as thought, he stood before the gateWhere cherubs burn, and minist'ring spirits wait.Nor long he stood, for God beheld his plume,Already tarnished by terrestrial gloom,And beck'ning kindly to the flurried aid,Said, "Speak your wish; if good, be it obeyed."The seraph raised his gem-encircled hand,Obeisance made, at heaven's august command,And thus replied, in tones so bold and clear,That angels turned and lent a listening ear:"Lord of all systems, be they near or far,Thrice have I circled 'round yon beauteous Star,I've seen its mountains rise, its rivers roll,Its oceans sweep majestic to each pole;Its floors in mighty continents expand,Or dwindle into specs of fairy-land;Its prairies spread, its forests stretch in pride,And all its valleys dazzle like a bride;Hymns have I heard in all its winds and streams,And beauty seen in all its rainbow gleams.But whilst the Landcan boast of every gemThat sparkles in each seraph's diadem;Whilst diamonds blaze 'neath dusk Golconda's skies,And rubies bleed where Alps and Andes rise;Whilst in Brazilian brooks the topaz shines,And opals burn in California mines;Whilst in the vales of Araby the BlestThe sapphire flames beside the amethyst:The pauper Ocean sobs forever more,Ungemm'd, unjeweled, on its wailing shore!"
"What wouldst thou do?" responded heaven's great King."Add music to the song the breakers sing!"The strong-soul'd seraph cried, "I'd make yon seaRival in tone heaven's sweetest minstrelsy;I'd plant within the ocean's bubbling tideAn island gem, of every sea the pride!So bright in robes of ever-living green,In breath so sweet, in features so serene,Such crystal streams to course its valleys fair,Such healthful gales to purify its air,Such fertile soil, such ever-verdant trees,Angels should name it 'Emerald of theSeas!'"
The seraph paused, and downward cast his eyes,Whilst heav'nly hosts stood throbbing with surprise.Again the Lord of all the realms above,Supreme in might, but infinite in love,With no harsh accent in His tones replied:"Go, drop this Emerald in the envious tide!"
Quick as the lightning cleaves the concave blue,The seraph seized the proffer'd gem, and flewUntil he reached the confines of the earth,Still struggling in the throes of turbid birth;And there, upon his self-sustaining wing,Sat poised, and heard our globe her matins sing;Beheld the sun traverse the arching sky,The sister Moon walk forth in majesty;Saw every constellation rise and rollAthwart the heaven, or circle round the pole.Nor did he move, until our spotted globeHad donned for him her morn and evening robe;Till on each land his critic eye was cast,And every ocean rose, and heav'd, and pass'd;Then, like some eagle pouncing on its prey,He downward sail'd, through bellowing clouds and spray,To where he saw the billows bounding free,And dropped the gem within the stormy sea!
And would'st thou know, Chief of St. Patrick's band,Where fell this jewel from the seraph's hand?What ocean caught the world-enriching prize?O! Child of Moina, homeward cast your eyes!Lo! in the midst of wat'ry deserts wide,Behold the Emeraldbursting through the tide,And bearing on its ever vernal-sodThe monogram of seraph, and of God!
Its name, the sweetest human lips e'er sung,First trembled on an angel's fervid tongue;Then chimed Æolian on the evening air,Lisped by an infant, in its mother prayer;Next roared in war, with battle's flag unfurl'd;Now, gemm'd with glory, gather'd through the world!What name! Perfidious Albion, blush with shame:It is thy sister's! Erin is the name!
Once more the seraph stood before the throneOf dread Omnipotence, pensive and alone."What hast thou done?" Heaven's Monarch sadly sigh'd."I dropped the jewel in the flashing tide,"The seraph said; but saw with vision keenA mightier angel stalk upon the scene,Whose voice like grating thunder smote his earAnd taught his soul the mystery of fear.
"Because thy heart with impious pride did swell,And dared make better what thy God made well;Because thy hand did fling profanely downOn Earth a jewel wrenched from Heaven's bright crown,The Isle which thine own fingers did createShall reap a blessing and a curse from fate!"
THE CURSE.
Far in the future, as the years roll on,And all the pagan ages shall have flown;When Christian virtues, flaming into light,Shall save the world from superstition's night;Erin, oppress'd, shall bite the tyrant's heel,And for a thousand years enslaved shall kneel;Her sons shall perish in the field and flood,Her daughters starve in city, wold, and wood;Her patriots, with their blood, the block shall stain,Her matrons fly behind the Western main;Harpies from Albion shall her strength consume,And thorns and thistles in her gardens bloom.But, curse of curses thine, O! fated land:Traitors shall thrive where statesmen ought to stand!
Far in the future, as the years roll on,And all the pagan ages shall have flown;When Christian virtues, flaming into light,Shall save the world from superstition's night;Erin, oppress'd, shall bite the tyrant's heel,And for a thousand years enslaved shall kneel;Her sons shall perish in the field and flood,Her daughters starve in city, wold, and wood;Her patriots, with their blood, the block shall stain,Her matrons fly behind the Western main;Harpies from Albion shall her strength consume,And thorns and thistles in her gardens bloom.But, curse of curses thine, O! fated land:Traitors shall thrive where statesmen ought to stand!
THE BLESSING.
But past her heritage of woe and pain,A far more blest millennium shall reign;Seedlings of heroes shall her exiles be,Where'er they find a home beyond the sea;Bright paragons of beauty and of truth,Her maidens all shall dazzle in their youth;And when age comes, to dim the flashing eye,Still gems of virtue shall they live, and die!No braver race shall breathe beneath the sunThan thine, O! Erin, ere the goal be won.Wherever man shall battle for the right,There shall thy sons fall thickest in the fight;Wherever man shall perish to be free,There shall thy martyrs foremost be!And O! when thy redemption is at hand,Soldiers shall swell thy ranks from every land!Heroes shall flock in thousands to thy shore,And swear thy soil isFREE FOREVERMORE!Then shall thy harp be from the willow torn,And in yon glitt'ring galaxy be borne!Then shall the Emerald change its verdant crest,And blaze a Star co-equal with the rest!The sentence pass'd, the doomsman felt surprise,For tears were streaming from the seraph's eyes."Weep not for Erin," once again he spoke,"But for thyself, that did'st her doom provoke;I bear a message, seraph, unto thee,As unrelenting in its stern decree.For endless years it is thy fate to stand,The chosen guardian of the Shamrockland.Three times, as ages wind their coils away,Incarnate on yon Island shalt thou stray."First as a Saint, in majesty divine,The world shall know thee by this potent sign:From yonder soil, where pois'nous reptiles dwell,Thy voice shall snake and slimy toad expel.Next as a Martyr, pleading in her cause,Thy blood shall flow to build up Albion's laws.Last as a Prophet and a Bard combined,Rebellion's fires shall mould thy patriot mind.In that great day, when Briton's strength shall fail,And all her glories shiver on the gale;When winged chariots, rushing through the sky,Shall drop their faggots, blazing as they fly,Thy form shall tower, a hero 'midst the flames,And add one more to Erin's deathless names!"Exiles of Erin! gathered here in state,Such is the story of your country's fate.Six thousand years in strife have rolled away,Since Erin sprang from billowy surf and spray;In that drear lapse, her sons have never knownOne ray of peace to gild her crimson zone.Cast back your glance athwart the tide of years,Behold each billow steeped with Erin's tears,Inspect each drop that swells the mighty flood,Its purple globules smoke with human blood!Come with me now, and trace the seraph's path,That has been trodden since his day of wrath.Lo! in the year when Attila the HunHad half the world in terror overrun,On Erin's shore there stood a noble youth,The breath of honor and the torch of truth.His was the tongue that taught the Celtic soulChrist was its Saviour, Heaven was its goal!His was the hand that drove subdued away,The venom horde that lured but to betray;His were the feet that sanctified the sod,Erin redeemed, and gave her back to God!The gray old Earth can boost no purer fameThan that whose halos gild St.Patrick'sname!Twelve times the centuries builded up their storeOf plots, rebellions, gibbets, tears and gore;Twelve times centennial annivers'ries came,To bless the seraph in St. Patrick's name.In that long night of treach'ry and gloom,How many myriads found a martyr's tomb!Beside the waters of the dashing RhoneIn exile starved the bold and blind Tyrone.Beneath the glamour of the tyrant's steelWent out in gloom the soul of great O'Neill.What countless thousands, children of her loin,Sank unanneal'd beneath the bitter Boyne!What fathers fell, what mothers sued in vain,In Tredah's walls, on Wexford's gory plain,When Cromwell's shaven panders slaked their lust,And Ireton's fiends despoiled the breathless dust!Still came no seraph, incarnate in man,To rescue Erin from the bandit clan.Still sad and lone, she languished in her chains,That clank'd in chorus o'er her martyrs' manes.At length, when Freedom's struggle was begunAcross the seas, by conq'ring Washington,When Curranthunder'd, and when Grattanspoke,The guardian seraph from his slumber woke.Then guilty Norbury from his vengeance fled,Fitzgeraldfought, and glorious WolfeTonebled.Then Emmetrose, to start the battle-cry,To strike, to plead, to threaten, and to die!Immortal Emmet! happier in thy doom,Though uninscrib'd remains thy seraph tomb,Than the long line of Erin's scepter'd foes,Whose bones in proud mausoleums repose;More noble blood through Emmet's pulses ringsThan courses through ten thousand hearts of kings!Thus has the seraph twice redeem'd his fate,And roamed a mortal through this low estate;Again obedient to divine command,His final incarnation is at hand.
But past her heritage of woe and pain,A far more blest millennium shall reign;Seedlings of heroes shall her exiles be,Where'er they find a home beyond the sea;Bright paragons of beauty and of truth,Her maidens all shall dazzle in their youth;And when age comes, to dim the flashing eye,Still gems of virtue shall they live, and die!No braver race shall breathe beneath the sunThan thine, O! Erin, ere the goal be won.
Wherever man shall battle for the right,There shall thy sons fall thickest in the fight;Wherever man shall perish to be free,There shall thy martyrs foremost be!And O! when thy redemption is at hand,Soldiers shall swell thy ranks from every land!Heroes shall flock in thousands to thy shore,And swear thy soil isFREE FOREVERMORE!Then shall thy harp be from the willow torn,And in yon glitt'ring galaxy be borne!Then shall the Emerald change its verdant crest,And blaze a Star co-equal with the rest!
The sentence pass'd, the doomsman felt surprise,For tears were streaming from the seraph's eyes.
"Weep not for Erin," once again he spoke,"But for thyself, that did'st her doom provoke;I bear a message, seraph, unto thee,As unrelenting in its stern decree.For endless years it is thy fate to stand,The chosen guardian of the Shamrockland.Three times, as ages wind their coils away,Incarnate on yon Island shalt thou stray.
"First as a Saint, in majesty divine,The world shall know thee by this potent sign:From yonder soil, where pois'nous reptiles dwell,Thy voice shall snake and slimy toad expel.Next as a Martyr, pleading in her cause,Thy blood shall flow to build up Albion's laws.Last as a Prophet and a Bard combined,Rebellion's fires shall mould thy patriot mind.In that great day, when Briton's strength shall fail,And all her glories shiver on the gale;When winged chariots, rushing through the sky,Shall drop their faggots, blazing as they fly,Thy form shall tower, a hero 'midst the flames,And add one more to Erin's deathless names!"
Exiles of Erin! gathered here in state,Such is the story of your country's fate.Six thousand years in strife have rolled away,Since Erin sprang from billowy surf and spray;In that drear lapse, her sons have never knownOne ray of peace to gild her crimson zone.Cast back your glance athwart the tide of years,Behold each billow steeped with Erin's tears,Inspect each drop that swells the mighty flood,Its purple globules smoke with human blood!
Come with me now, and trace the seraph's path,That has been trodden since his day of wrath.Lo! in the year when Attila the HunHad half the world in terror overrun,On Erin's shore there stood a noble youth,The breath of honor and the torch of truth.His was the tongue that taught the Celtic soulChrist was its Saviour, Heaven was its goal!His was the hand that drove subdued away,The venom horde that lured but to betray;His were the feet that sanctified the sod,Erin redeemed, and gave her back to God!The gray old Earth can boost no purer fameThan that whose halos gild St.Patrick'sname!
Twelve times the centuries builded up their storeOf plots, rebellions, gibbets, tears and gore;Twelve times centennial annivers'ries came,To bless the seraph in St. Patrick's name.In that long night of treach'ry and gloom,How many myriads found a martyr's tomb!Beside the waters of the dashing RhoneIn exile starved the bold and blind Tyrone.Beneath the glamour of the tyrant's steelWent out in gloom the soul of great O'Neill.What countless thousands, children of her loin,Sank unanneal'd beneath the bitter Boyne!What fathers fell, what mothers sued in vain,In Tredah's walls, on Wexford's gory plain,When Cromwell's shaven panders slaked their lust,And Ireton's fiends despoiled the breathless dust!
Still came no seraph, incarnate in man,To rescue Erin from the bandit clan.Still sad and lone, she languished in her chains,That clank'd in chorus o'er her martyrs' manes.
At length, when Freedom's struggle was begunAcross the seas, by conq'ring Washington,When Curranthunder'd, and when Grattanspoke,The guardian seraph from his slumber woke.Then guilty Norbury from his vengeance fled,Fitzgeraldfought, and glorious WolfeTonebled.Then Emmetrose, to start the battle-cry,To strike, to plead, to threaten, and to die!Immortal Emmet! happier in thy doom,Though uninscrib'd remains thy seraph tomb,Than the long line of Erin's scepter'd foes,Whose bones in proud mausoleums repose;More noble blood through Emmet's pulses ringsThan courses through ten thousand hearts of kings!
Thus has the seraph twice redeem'd his fate,And roamed a mortal through this low estate;Again obedient to divine command,His final incarnation is at hand.
THE PROPHECY.