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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
GLORIA VICTIS 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 ON TI1K DEATH OF 
 
 Gen. Ulysses s. Grant. 
 
 OBIIT MDCCCLXXXV. 
 
 BY jasper barnett cowdin. 
 
 II 
 
 c 
 
 BROOKLYxM, N. V. : 
 
 D . S . HOLMES, PUBLISHER, 
 
 79 Fourth Street, 
 
 1885. 
 

 Copyright, 1SS5, 
 Jasper B. Cowdin. 
 All rig-hts reserved. 
 
GLORIA VICTIS: 
 
 AN ODE ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL GRANT, 
 
 I. 
 
 Under the bursting shell, 
 Under the black war-cloud, 
 Under the flash of Hell 
 
 Calm, yet victor-browed 
 Unharmed by rattling musketry, 
 Unpierced by bayonet forestry, 
 Unshaken by artillery — 
 
 Watched by the angels of God. 
 
 Hushed were the rumbling, deep voices of War, 
 And Error slept beneath the sod, 
 
 And Peace rose over her grave — a calm star, 
 When Death, from the unknown dark, 
 Sent his still arrow to find its mark, 
 
 And the Warrior fell. 
 4 37 
 
38 GLORIA VICTIS. 
 
 The red terrors of Southern hate 
 Bravely he faced, and well ; 
 Surrender ! — a word unknown to his tongue, 
 
 Save when from the enemy wrung ; 
 
 But now, lying low at Life's gate, 
 See the pale corse by the death-arrow stung ! 
 
 Bear the great soul away, 
 Attendant spirits ! from the pulseless clay ; 
 Prepared for his eternal rest, 
 And sleeping on his pilot's breast, 
 Far through the still, unruffled night. 
 Wing now your mystic (light 
 Beyond the river-glooms to perfect day. 
 
 One white, one dazzling stai — 
 His ministering angel — goeth before, 
 Bearing his half-extinguished torch, and o'er 
 Her shoulder looks with fond reverted gaze ; 
 
 Dimmer forms follow her blaze: 
 Faith, Hope and Love his dear supporters are. 
 
 They with quiescent wings 
 Fan the black air ; while music slow from strings 
 Unseen, is set adrift and wanders everywhere. 
 Beneath their feet the eternal surge is rolled 
 
 To yon bright-peopled shore, 
 Under whose pillared palms and trembling leaves 
 
 Heroes of old [of gold 
 
 Wait with the brave hearts of our civil fray 
 To greet their old Commander on his way, 
 And talk of valorous deeds that live forevermore. 
 
 Carry thence gently our immortal friend. 
 
 Ye that have charge of him ; he soon will wake, 
 
 For nearer and more loud the anthems break. 
 
 His journey's end 
 Lies yonder — there is his eternal rest. 
 With trumpets gather his compatriot bands, 
 And, as he wakens on his pilot's breast, 
 
GLORIA V1CTIS. 
 
 Crown ye the loved one's head ! 
 And lead him to the many-jeweled sands 
 Where stand the illustrious dead. 
 
 Here lies the tenantless clay ; 
 Its transient guest is gone, the noble-hearted ; 
 
 Beside this pale form sits to-day 
 His Nation, bowed, and mourns the spark departed. 
 
 All hearts are hushed in presence of deep sorrow ; 
 All souls are bent beneath one mighty wave; 
 Dreams of wealth are put by till to-morrow, 
 And pausing millions lend a sobered ear 
 To dirge-like voices drifting from the grave. 
 
 God comes very near 
 
 In such a mournful hour; 
 
 His still small voice we hear 
 
 And feel its solemn power. 
 
 As darkness deepens, the fleece-frayed moon 
 Grows to sharp silver and reigns, the peerless one : 
 In our blackest night of sorrow and tears 
 God grows visible. To his bowed Daughter, 
 Fairer, calmer than moonlight on water 
 The white form of the Deity appears — 
 Slow-walking on the dark prophetic sea, 
 Cometh and sayeth unto her tenderly : — 
 
 " Of good comfort be ! 
 This body, that sate 
 In thy councils of state, 
 Daughter, shall be long closeted with Death ; 
 No cannon's voice can wake this sleeping dust ; 
 No cry of onset from the battle-plain 
 Rouse the pale form again. 
 
 Be of patient trust ! 
 Not forever it remains a clod, 
 For, with a trumpet-breath, 
 My angel, in due time, shall call it from the sod." 
 
 39 
 
40 
 
 GLORIA VICTIS. 
 IV. 
 
 Like stars at twilight gathering in the sky, 
 
 Their own positions taking low or high. 
 
 So men their natural stations find, and climb 
 
 Conspicuous height*, the wonder of all time, 
 
 Or, given weaker powers and dimmer shine, 
 
 Twinkle unnoticed on the horizon-line. 
 
 Great souls come to us from the infinite deep 
 
 With trailing splendors and a comet-sweep 
 
 To shape our realms ; their bright deeds never die, 
 
 But run along the chords of human destiny. 
 
 Who silently uprose 
 
 In spile of bitter foes ? 
 
 Who bore the weight of power 
 
 In his country's darkest hour? 
 
 Fixed were all hopes on whom 
 
 In the Rebellion's gloom ? 
 
 Who, with terrible blow, 
 
 Struck the slave-holder low ? 
 
 Who, calm-browed, sedate, 
 
 Ruled in the chair of state, 
 And reached our highest gift through storms of hate? 
 
 Who, from public cares retired, 
 
 A citizen, the line of nations fired. 
 And drew his belt of glory round the earth ?— 
 The man we mourn to-day. who reached this by his 
 
 worth. 
 Up through the drifting clouds of praise and blame 
 Steadily passed his orb — as sure to claim 
 A zenith brilliance, as the moon at night 
 Leaves her disguise behind and climbs the vacant 
 height. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ere Death with his shadows drew near 
 To throw on this Hero the shadow of fear, 
 He humbled himself at the wicket-gate— 
 Becoming a child, became more truly great ; 
 Last, lying on the bosom of his Friend, 
 
GLORIA VICTIS. 41 
 
 And seeing the solemn, slow approach of Fate, 
 With dignified composure wailed for the end. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As tiny twins do Life and Death 
 
 Lie cradled in each flower ; 
 
 One gives the leaf its fragrant breath, 
 
 The other blasts its power. 
 Life is sweet, if grief be not too near. 
 But Death is sweeter when we have no fear ; 
 We live to die, and we die to live, 
 That to God our hearts and works we may give ; 
 Before the infant man hath learned to walk 
 He starts upon his journey to the tomb ; 
 'T is best the flower should perish on its stalk ; 
 *Tis best that man should pierce the final gloom. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Therefore, with fitting rites, commit his dust 
 Unto the waiting gloom. We shall not see 
 The solemn dark, nor mark the arid change. 
 His features pass from sight, as all things must- 
 Carried in countless hearts, his image still lives on. 
 Beyond the prairie-sea, the white-capped range, 
 His portrait on a people's memory 
 Is graven deep ; in cabins near the sun, 
 In northern cots, his long-familiar face 
 Above the hearth has found a welcome place ; 
 His grave, aye guarded as a sacred trust. 
 The sister-angels of the North and South 
 Sit bv, with overshadowing wings that kiss, 
 No more to flame before the cannon's mouth. 
 Pray God, we may not need his like again 
 To shake the battle-plain. 
 And tear sweet lives apart ; 
 But Christ-like Peace 
 Shine down forever on his quiet cell. 
 The Nation has a true heart, and all that heart 
 She gives him, and a tender last farewell. 
 4* 
 
CLERMONT - CLAREMONT. 
 
 1822. 1885. 
 
 General Grant was born at Clermont, on the Ohio, and is buried 
 at Claremont, on the Hudson. 
 
 Clermont and Claremont ! Long and smoke-hid lines 
 Of battle stretch between those peaceful words ; 
 
 Great gaps in brother-love, exploding mines, 
 Disunion, and the flash and clash of swords. 
 
 His military splendors trailing by 
 
 Caught all our praise. We were not quick to scan 
 His indoor life ; but when we did, how high 
 
 Above the warrior overtopped the Man ! 
 
 And we can see him now, a playful child, 
 Gaze on the bright Ohio passing down 
 
 To those historic fields then resting mild, 
 Unconscious of their coming great renown. 
 
 Our Captain takes his long heroic rest 
 Beside as bright a river, where the grand 
 
 Good Washington passed on its noble breast 
 To conquest, with his worn but patriot band. 
 
 I [ere, where the sunlit Hudson laughs at death, 
 I [ere let him sleep— while coming ages chant, 
 
 And weeping muses braid their triune wreath 
 For Washington, for Lincoln, and for Grant. 
 
 Jasper Barnett Cow din. 
 

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