XVII.1.Wear no armor, timid heart;Fear no keen misfortune’s dart,Want, nor scorn, nor secret blowDealt thee by thy mortal foe.2.Let the Fates their weapons wield,For a wondrous woven shieldShall be given thee, erelong.Mesh of gold were not so strong;Not so soft were silken shred;Not so fine the spider’s threadBarring the enchanted doorIn that tale of ancient lore,Guarding, silently and well,All within the mystic cell.Such a shield, where’er thou art,Shall be thine, O wounded heart!From the ills that compass theeThou behind it shalt be free;Envy, slander, malice, allShall withdraw them from thy—Pall.3.Build no house with patient care,Fair to view, and strong as fair;Walled with noble deeds’ renown;Shining over field and town,Seen from land and sea afar,Proud in peace, secure in war.For the moments never sleep,Building thee a castle-keep,—Proof alike ’gainst heat and cold,Earthly sorrows manifold,Sickness, failure of thine ends,And the falling off of friends.Treason, want, dishonor, wrong,None of these shall harm thee long.Every day a beam is made;Hour by hour a stone is laid.Back the cruellest shall fallFrom the warder at the wall;Foemen shall not dare to treadOn the ramparts o’er thy head;Dark, triumphant flags shall waveFrom the fastness of thy—Grave.XVIII.1.There’s an hour, at the fall of night, when the blissful soulsOf those who were dear in life seem close at hand;There’s a holy midnight hour, when we speak their namesIn pauses between our songs on the trellised porch;And we sing the hymns which they loved, and almost knowTheir phantoms are somewhere with us, filling the gaps,The sorrowful chasms left when they passed away;And we seem, in the hush of our yearning voices, to hearTheir warm, familiar breathing somewhere near.2.At such an hour,—when again the autumn hazeSilvered the moors, and the new moon peered from the westOver the blue Passaic, and the mansion shoneClear and white on the ridge which skirts the stream,—At the twilight hour a man and a woman satOn the open porch, in the garb of those who mourn.Father and daughter they seemed; and with thoughtful eyes,Silent, and full of the past, they watched the skies.XIX.Silent they were, not sad; for the sod that covers the graveOf those we have given to fame smells not of the hateful mould,But of roses and fragrant ferns, while marvellous immortellesTwine in glory above, and their graces give us joy.Silent, but oh! not sad: for the babe on the couch withinDrank at the mother’s breast, till the current of life, outdrawn,Opened inflowing currents of faith and sweet content;And the gray-haired man, repenting in tears the foolish past,Had seen in the light from those inscrutable infant eyes,Fresh from the unknown world, the glimpses which, long ago,Gladdened his golden youth, and had found his soul at peace.XX.1.Lastly the moon went down; like burnished steelThe infinite ether wrapt the crispy air.Then, arm in arm on the terrace-walk, the pairMoved in that still communion where we feelNo need of audible questions and replies,But mutual pulses all our thoughts reveal;And, as they turned to leave the outer night,Far in the cloudless North a radiant sightStayed their steps for a while and held their eyes.2.There, through the icy mail of the boreal heaven,Two-edged and burning swords by unseen handsWere thrust, till a climbing throng its path had rivenStraight from the Pole, and, over seas and lands,Pushed for the zenith, while from East to WestFlamed many a towering helm and gorgeous crest;And then, a rarer pageant than the rest,An angrier light glared from the southern sky,As if the austral trumpets made reply,And the wrath of a challenged realm had swiftly tostOn the empyrean the flags of another host,—Pennons with or and scarlet blazing high,Crimson and orange banners proudly crost;While through the environed space, that lay betweenTheir adverse fronts, the ether seemed to tremble,Shuddering to view such ruthless foes assemble,And one by one the stars withdrew their sheen.3.The two, enrapt with such a vision, sawIts ominous surges, dense, prismatic, vast,Heaved from the round horizon; and in awe,Musing awhile, were silent. Till at lastThe younger, fair in widow’s garments, spoke:“See, father, how, from either pole,The deep, innumerous columns roll;As if the angelic tribes their concord broke,And the fierce war that scathes our land had spreadAbove, and the very skies with ire were red!”4.Even as she spoke, there shoneHigh in the topmost zenith a central spark,A luminous cloud that glowed against the dark;Its halo, widening toward either zone,Took on the semblance of a mystic handStretched from an unknown height; and lo! a bandOf scintillant jewels twined around the wrist,Sapphire and ruby, opal, amethyst,Turquoise, and diamond, linked with flashing joints.Its wide and puissant reach began to clasp,In countless folds, the interclashing pointsOf outshot light, gathering their angry hues—North, south, east, west—with noiseless grasp,By some divine, resistless law,Till everywhere the wondering watchers sawA thousand colors blend and interfuse,In aureate wave on wave ascending higher,—Immeasurable, white, a spotless fire;And, glory circling glory there, beholdGleams of the heavenly city walled with gold!5.“Daughter,” the man replied, (his face was brightWith the effulgent reflex of that light,)“The time shall come, by merciful Heaven willed,When these celestial omens shall be fulfilled,Our strife be closed and the nation purged of sin,And a pure and holier union shall begin;And a jarring race be drawn, throughout the land,Into new brotherhood by some strong hand;And the baneful glow and splendor of war shall fadeIn the whiter light of love, that, from sea to sea,Shall soften the rage of hosts in arms arrayed,And melt into share and shaft each battle-blade,And brighten the hopes of a people great and free.But, in the story told of a nation’s woes,Of the sacrifices made for a century’s fault,The fames of fallen heroes shall ever shine,Serene, and high, and crystalline as thoseFair stars, which reappear in yonder vault;In the country’s heart their written names shall be,Like that of a single one in mine and thine.”
XVII.1.Wear no armor, timid heart;Fear no keen misfortune’s dart,Want, nor scorn, nor secret blowDealt thee by thy mortal foe.2.Let the Fates their weapons wield,For a wondrous woven shieldShall be given thee, erelong.Mesh of gold were not so strong;Not so soft were silken shred;Not so fine the spider’s threadBarring the enchanted doorIn that tale of ancient lore,Guarding, silently and well,All within the mystic cell.Such a shield, where’er thou art,Shall be thine, O wounded heart!From the ills that compass theeThou behind it shalt be free;Envy, slander, malice, allShall withdraw them from thy—Pall.3.Build no house with patient care,Fair to view, and strong as fair;Walled with noble deeds’ renown;Shining over field and town,Seen from land and sea afar,Proud in peace, secure in war.For the moments never sleep,Building thee a castle-keep,—Proof alike ’gainst heat and cold,Earthly sorrows manifold,Sickness, failure of thine ends,And the falling off of friends.Treason, want, dishonor, wrong,None of these shall harm thee long.Every day a beam is made;Hour by hour a stone is laid.Back the cruellest shall fallFrom the warder at the wall;Foemen shall not dare to treadOn the ramparts o’er thy head;Dark, triumphant flags shall waveFrom the fastness of thy—Grave.XVIII.1.There’s an hour, at the fall of night, when the blissful soulsOf those who were dear in life seem close at hand;There’s a holy midnight hour, when we speak their namesIn pauses between our songs on the trellised porch;And we sing the hymns which they loved, and almost knowTheir phantoms are somewhere with us, filling the gaps,The sorrowful chasms left when they passed away;And we seem, in the hush of our yearning voices, to hearTheir warm, familiar breathing somewhere near.2.At such an hour,—when again the autumn hazeSilvered the moors, and the new moon peered from the westOver the blue Passaic, and the mansion shoneClear and white on the ridge which skirts the stream,—At the twilight hour a man and a woman satOn the open porch, in the garb of those who mourn.Father and daughter they seemed; and with thoughtful eyes,Silent, and full of the past, they watched the skies.XIX.Silent they were, not sad; for the sod that covers the graveOf those we have given to fame smells not of the hateful mould,But of roses and fragrant ferns, while marvellous immortellesTwine in glory above, and their graces give us joy.Silent, but oh! not sad: for the babe on the couch withinDrank at the mother’s breast, till the current of life, outdrawn,Opened inflowing currents of faith and sweet content;And the gray-haired man, repenting in tears the foolish past,Had seen in the light from those inscrutable infant eyes,Fresh from the unknown world, the glimpses which, long ago,Gladdened his golden youth, and had found his soul at peace.XX.1.Lastly the moon went down; like burnished steelThe infinite ether wrapt the crispy air.Then, arm in arm on the terrace-walk, the pairMoved in that still communion where we feelNo need of audible questions and replies,But mutual pulses all our thoughts reveal;And, as they turned to leave the outer night,Far in the cloudless North a radiant sightStayed their steps for a while and held their eyes.2.There, through the icy mail of the boreal heaven,Two-edged and burning swords by unseen handsWere thrust, till a climbing throng its path had rivenStraight from the Pole, and, over seas and lands,Pushed for the zenith, while from East to WestFlamed many a towering helm and gorgeous crest;And then, a rarer pageant than the rest,An angrier light glared from the southern sky,As if the austral trumpets made reply,And the wrath of a challenged realm had swiftly tostOn the empyrean the flags of another host,—Pennons with or and scarlet blazing high,Crimson and orange banners proudly crost;While through the environed space, that lay betweenTheir adverse fronts, the ether seemed to tremble,Shuddering to view such ruthless foes assemble,And one by one the stars withdrew their sheen.3.The two, enrapt with such a vision, sawIts ominous surges, dense, prismatic, vast,Heaved from the round horizon; and in awe,Musing awhile, were silent. Till at lastThe younger, fair in widow’s garments, spoke:“See, father, how, from either pole,The deep, innumerous columns roll;As if the angelic tribes their concord broke,And the fierce war that scathes our land had spreadAbove, and the very skies with ire were red!”4.Even as she spoke, there shoneHigh in the topmost zenith a central spark,A luminous cloud that glowed against the dark;Its halo, widening toward either zone,Took on the semblance of a mystic handStretched from an unknown height; and lo! a bandOf scintillant jewels twined around the wrist,Sapphire and ruby, opal, amethyst,Turquoise, and diamond, linked with flashing joints.Its wide and puissant reach began to clasp,In countless folds, the interclashing pointsOf outshot light, gathering their angry hues—North, south, east, west—with noiseless grasp,By some divine, resistless law,Till everywhere the wondering watchers sawA thousand colors blend and interfuse,In aureate wave on wave ascending higher,—Immeasurable, white, a spotless fire;And, glory circling glory there, beholdGleams of the heavenly city walled with gold!5.“Daughter,” the man replied, (his face was brightWith the effulgent reflex of that light,)“The time shall come, by merciful Heaven willed,When these celestial omens shall be fulfilled,Our strife be closed and the nation purged of sin,And a pure and holier union shall begin;And a jarring race be drawn, throughout the land,Into new brotherhood by some strong hand;And the baneful glow and splendor of war shall fadeIn the whiter light of love, that, from sea to sea,Shall soften the rage of hosts in arms arrayed,And melt into share and shaft each battle-blade,And brighten the hopes of a people great and free.But, in the story told of a nation’s woes,Of the sacrifices made for a century’s fault,The fames of fallen heroes shall ever shine,Serene, and high, and crystalline as thoseFair stars, which reappear in yonder vault;In the country’s heart their written names shall be,Like that of a single one in mine and thine.”
XVII.1.Wear no armor, timid heart;Fear no keen misfortune’s dart,Want, nor scorn, nor secret blowDealt thee by thy mortal foe.
Wear no armor, timid heart;
Fear no keen misfortune’s dart,
Want, nor scorn, nor secret blow
Dealt thee by thy mortal foe.
2.Let the Fates their weapons wield,For a wondrous woven shieldShall be given thee, erelong.Mesh of gold were not so strong;Not so soft were silken shred;Not so fine the spider’s threadBarring the enchanted doorIn that tale of ancient lore,Guarding, silently and well,All within the mystic cell.Such a shield, where’er thou art,Shall be thine, O wounded heart!From the ills that compass theeThou behind it shalt be free;Envy, slander, malice, allShall withdraw them from thy—Pall.
Let the Fates their weapons wield,
For a wondrous woven shield
Shall be given thee, erelong.
Mesh of gold were not so strong;
Not so soft were silken shred;
Not so fine the spider’s thread
Barring the enchanted door
In that tale of ancient lore,
Guarding, silently and well,
All within the mystic cell.
Such a shield, where’er thou art,
Shall be thine, O wounded heart!
From the ills that compass thee
Thou behind it shalt be free;
Envy, slander, malice, all
Shall withdraw them from thy—Pall.
3.Build no house with patient care,Fair to view, and strong as fair;Walled with noble deeds’ renown;Shining over field and town,Seen from land and sea afar,Proud in peace, secure in war.For the moments never sleep,Building thee a castle-keep,—Proof alike ’gainst heat and cold,Earthly sorrows manifold,Sickness, failure of thine ends,And the falling off of friends.Treason, want, dishonor, wrong,None of these shall harm thee long.Every day a beam is made;Hour by hour a stone is laid.Back the cruellest shall fallFrom the warder at the wall;Foemen shall not dare to treadOn the ramparts o’er thy head;Dark, triumphant flags shall waveFrom the fastness of thy—Grave.
Build no house with patient care,
Fair to view, and strong as fair;
Walled with noble deeds’ renown;
Shining over field and town,
Seen from land and sea afar,
Proud in peace, secure in war.
For the moments never sleep,
Building thee a castle-keep,—
Proof alike ’gainst heat and cold,
Earthly sorrows manifold,
Sickness, failure of thine ends,
And the falling off of friends.
Treason, want, dishonor, wrong,
None of these shall harm thee long.
Every day a beam is made;
Hour by hour a stone is laid.
Back the cruellest shall fall
From the warder at the wall;
Foemen shall not dare to tread
On the ramparts o’er thy head;
Dark, triumphant flags shall wave
From the fastness of thy—Grave.
XVIII.1.There’s an hour, at the fall of night, when the blissful soulsOf those who were dear in life seem close at hand;There’s a holy midnight hour, when we speak their namesIn pauses between our songs on the trellised porch;And we sing the hymns which they loved, and almost knowTheir phantoms are somewhere with us, filling the gaps,The sorrowful chasms left when they passed away;And we seem, in the hush of our yearning voices, to hearTheir warm, familiar breathing somewhere near.
There’s an hour, at the fall of night, when the blissful souls
Of those who were dear in life seem close at hand;
There’s a holy midnight hour, when we speak their names
In pauses between our songs on the trellised porch;
And we sing the hymns which they loved, and almost know
Their phantoms are somewhere with us, filling the gaps,
The sorrowful chasms left when they passed away;
And we seem, in the hush of our yearning voices, to hear
Their warm, familiar breathing somewhere near.
2.At such an hour,—when again the autumn hazeSilvered the moors, and the new moon peered from the westOver the blue Passaic, and the mansion shoneClear and white on the ridge which skirts the stream,—At the twilight hour a man and a woman satOn the open porch, in the garb of those who mourn.Father and daughter they seemed; and with thoughtful eyes,Silent, and full of the past, they watched the skies.
At such an hour,—when again the autumn haze
Silvered the moors, and the new moon peered from the west
Over the blue Passaic, and the mansion shone
Clear and white on the ridge which skirts the stream,—
At the twilight hour a man and a woman sat
On the open porch, in the garb of those who mourn.
Father and daughter they seemed; and with thoughtful eyes,
Silent, and full of the past, they watched the skies.
XIX.Silent they were, not sad; for the sod that covers the graveOf those we have given to fame smells not of the hateful mould,But of roses and fragrant ferns, while marvellous immortellesTwine in glory above, and their graces give us joy.Silent, but oh! not sad: for the babe on the couch withinDrank at the mother’s breast, till the current of life, outdrawn,Opened inflowing currents of faith and sweet content;And the gray-haired man, repenting in tears the foolish past,Had seen in the light from those inscrutable infant eyes,Fresh from the unknown world, the glimpses which, long ago,Gladdened his golden youth, and had found his soul at peace.
Silent they were, not sad; for the sod that covers the grave
Of those we have given to fame smells not of the hateful mould,
But of roses and fragrant ferns, while marvellous immortelles
Twine in glory above, and their graces give us joy.
Silent, but oh! not sad: for the babe on the couch within
Drank at the mother’s breast, till the current of life, outdrawn,
Opened inflowing currents of faith and sweet content;
And the gray-haired man, repenting in tears the foolish past,
Had seen in the light from those inscrutable infant eyes,
Fresh from the unknown world, the glimpses which, long ago,
Gladdened his golden youth, and had found his soul at peace.
XX.1.Lastly the moon went down; like burnished steelThe infinite ether wrapt the crispy air.Then, arm in arm on the terrace-walk, the pairMoved in that still communion where we feelNo need of audible questions and replies,But mutual pulses all our thoughts reveal;And, as they turned to leave the outer night,Far in the cloudless North a radiant sightStayed their steps for a while and held their eyes.
Lastly the moon went down; like burnished steel
The infinite ether wrapt the crispy air.
Then, arm in arm on the terrace-walk, the pair
Moved in that still communion where we feel
No need of audible questions and replies,
But mutual pulses all our thoughts reveal;
And, as they turned to leave the outer night,
Far in the cloudless North a radiant sight
Stayed their steps for a while and held their eyes.
2.There, through the icy mail of the boreal heaven,Two-edged and burning swords by unseen handsWere thrust, till a climbing throng its path had rivenStraight from the Pole, and, over seas and lands,Pushed for the zenith, while from East to WestFlamed many a towering helm and gorgeous crest;And then, a rarer pageant than the rest,An angrier light glared from the southern sky,As if the austral trumpets made reply,And the wrath of a challenged realm had swiftly tostOn the empyrean the flags of another host,—Pennons with or and scarlet blazing high,Crimson and orange banners proudly crost;While through the environed space, that lay betweenTheir adverse fronts, the ether seemed to tremble,Shuddering to view such ruthless foes assemble,And one by one the stars withdrew their sheen.
There, through the icy mail of the boreal heaven,
Two-edged and burning swords by unseen hands
Were thrust, till a climbing throng its path had riven
Straight from the Pole, and, over seas and lands,
Pushed for the zenith, while from East to West
Flamed many a towering helm and gorgeous crest;
And then, a rarer pageant than the rest,
An angrier light glared from the southern sky,
As if the austral trumpets made reply,
And the wrath of a challenged realm had swiftly tost
On the empyrean the flags of another host,—
Pennons with or and scarlet blazing high,
Crimson and orange banners proudly crost;
While through the environed space, that lay between
Their adverse fronts, the ether seemed to tremble,
Shuddering to view such ruthless foes assemble,
And one by one the stars withdrew their sheen.
3.The two, enrapt with such a vision, sawIts ominous surges, dense, prismatic, vast,Heaved from the round horizon; and in awe,Musing awhile, were silent. Till at lastThe younger, fair in widow’s garments, spoke:“See, father, how, from either pole,The deep, innumerous columns roll;As if the angelic tribes their concord broke,And the fierce war that scathes our land had spreadAbove, and the very skies with ire were red!”
The two, enrapt with such a vision, saw
Its ominous surges, dense, prismatic, vast,
Heaved from the round horizon; and in awe,
Musing awhile, were silent. Till at last
The younger, fair in widow’s garments, spoke:
“See, father, how, from either pole,
The deep, innumerous columns roll;
As if the angelic tribes their concord broke,
And the fierce war that scathes our land had spread
Above, and the very skies with ire were red!”
4.Even as she spoke, there shoneHigh in the topmost zenith a central spark,A luminous cloud that glowed against the dark;Its halo, widening toward either zone,Took on the semblance of a mystic handStretched from an unknown height; and lo! a bandOf scintillant jewels twined around the wrist,Sapphire and ruby, opal, amethyst,Turquoise, and diamond, linked with flashing joints.Its wide and puissant reach began to clasp,In countless folds, the interclashing pointsOf outshot light, gathering their angry hues—North, south, east, west—with noiseless grasp,By some divine, resistless law,Till everywhere the wondering watchers sawA thousand colors blend and interfuse,In aureate wave on wave ascending higher,—Immeasurable, white, a spotless fire;And, glory circling glory there, beholdGleams of the heavenly city walled with gold!
Even as she spoke, there shone
High in the topmost zenith a central spark,
A luminous cloud that glowed against the dark;
Its halo, widening toward either zone,
Took on the semblance of a mystic hand
Stretched from an unknown height; and lo! a band
Of scintillant jewels twined around the wrist,
Sapphire and ruby, opal, amethyst,
Turquoise, and diamond, linked with flashing joints.
Its wide and puissant reach began to clasp,
In countless folds, the interclashing points
Of outshot light, gathering their angry hues—
North, south, east, west—with noiseless grasp,
By some divine, resistless law,
Till everywhere the wondering watchers saw
A thousand colors blend and interfuse,
In aureate wave on wave ascending higher,—
Immeasurable, white, a spotless fire;
And, glory circling glory there, behold
Gleams of the heavenly city walled with gold!
5.“Daughter,” the man replied, (his face was brightWith the effulgent reflex of that light,)“The time shall come, by merciful Heaven willed,When these celestial omens shall be fulfilled,Our strife be closed and the nation purged of sin,And a pure and holier union shall begin;And a jarring race be drawn, throughout the land,Into new brotherhood by some strong hand;And the baneful glow and splendor of war shall fadeIn the whiter light of love, that, from sea to sea,Shall soften the rage of hosts in arms arrayed,And melt into share and shaft each battle-blade,And brighten the hopes of a people great and free.But, in the story told of a nation’s woes,Of the sacrifices made for a century’s fault,The fames of fallen heroes shall ever shine,Serene, and high, and crystalline as thoseFair stars, which reappear in yonder vault;In the country’s heart their written names shall be,Like that of a single one in mine and thine.”
“Daughter,” the man replied, (his face was bright
With the effulgent reflex of that light,)
“The time shall come, by merciful Heaven willed,
When these celestial omens shall be fulfilled,
Our strife be closed and the nation purged of sin,
And a pure and holier union shall begin;
And a jarring race be drawn, throughout the land,
Into new brotherhood by some strong hand;
And the baneful glow and splendor of war shall fade
In the whiter light of love, that, from sea to sea,
Shall soften the rage of hosts in arms arrayed,
And melt into share and shaft each battle-blade,
And brighten the hopes of a people great and free.
But, in the story told of a nation’s woes,
Of the sacrifices made for a century’s fault,
The fames of fallen heroes shall ever shine,
Serene, and high, and crystalline as those
Fair stars, which reappear in yonder vault;
In the country’s heart their written names shall be,
Like that of a single one in mine and thine.”