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THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
By the Same Author. 
 
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THE 
 
 TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 ARLO BATES 
 
 [Delivered at the Centennial of the Incorporation 
 OF BowDoiN College, June 28, 1894] 
 
 <3iVVV-^ 
 
 BOSTON 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 1894 
 
 O^Va ^ 
 

 Copyright, 1894, 
 By Arlo Bates. 
 
 A// Rights Reserved. 
 
 2Sniijrrsitg 3.9rcss: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 
 
r\NCE in this place I saw a poet stand. 
 
 In all the dignity of age, with hair 
 White as the foam on Androscoggin's falls ; 
 And heard his silver voice over the hush 
 More eloquent than noisy plaudits say : 
 " O Ccesar, we who are about to die 
 Salute you I " While all those who listened knew 
 Fame had so crowned him that he still would live 
 When death had done its worst. To-day the grace 
 Lies in the high occasion, not the lay. 
 To-day we mark the rounded centiiry, 
 And pause to say : " Our fathers have done well ; 
 Let us take counsel what their sons may dol^ 
 
 At such a time, in such a place as this ; 
 Here, where a melancholy whisper comes 
 From the thin breezes yearning toward sea ; 
 Where wistful sighs of long remembi^ance stir 
 The bosom of the ever-murmuring pines ; 
 
Here, where a thousand varied memories 
 Rise up to waken pride or touch regret ; 
 Where our lost youth lies wait and peers at us 
 As if some dryad shy peeped from her tree ; 
 What word is fitting here and fitting now? 
 
 We find our hearts too full for lightsome speech. 
 
 The burden of the century which ends. 
 
 The burden of the ending century, 
 
 Together weigh upon us, and incite 
 
 To thoughts of grave and deep sole7nnity. 
 
 The empty babble of thifigs idly said 
 
 By lip alone were insult to the time. 
 
 Not for a day like this are gleeful song 
 
 And amorozis lay, — melodious nightingales 
 
 Fluting enchantme^it to the southern moon ; 
 
 Gay mockery of life, like dancing foam 
 
 Flashing and crackling at the wine-cup's brim. 
 
 Not for a day like this regretful plaint 
 
 For all that has been, but, alas I is not. 
 
 Jocund bravado of high-thoughted youth 
 
And bitterness of grief-acquainted age 
 
 Alike would jar. For, lo, here DtUy waits 
 
 With finger on her lip, unsmiling, stern, — 
 
 And yet with eyes of passionate desire 
 
 Which yearn for that which is beyond all speech ; 
 
 Her mien austere, and yet her lofty look 
 
 An inspiration and a benison. 
 
 It is in Dutys name that one must speak. 
 Or let the silence prove more eloquent. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 ONCE on a night so dark it might have been 
 Ere God had yet commanded : '' Be there 
 light ! " 
 When all the spirits of the dread unseen 
 
 Had burst their bonds, and joined rebellious fight, 
 I stood among the fisher-folk, and heard 
 
 The innumerable tumult of the storm sweep down. 
 Till the earth quivered, and the sea seemed stirred 
 
 To its remotest deeps, where they who drown 
 Sleep calm in water still as lucent stone. 
 
 The wind and wave were all commingled. Sea 
 And air were one. The beaten surf was blown 
 
 Like sand against our faces ; mockingly 
 A million voices clamored in the dark. 
 
 Deriding human might. They who upheld 
 
lO THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 The flaring torches stood there gaunt and stark, 
 And fought for breath ; while yet they stood un- 
 
 q 
 
 uelled 
 
 For there were boats at sea. 
 
 A woman lay 
 Face down along the sand, her brown hands clenched, 
 Her hair mixed with the drifted weed, while spray 
 
 And rain and icy sleet her garments drenched 
 And froze her as she lay and writhed. Her love 
 
 Was in the boats. His mother at her head 
 Crouched with white locks storm-torn ; while bright 
 above 
 
 The red glare by the flaring torches shed 
 Fell on white faces, wild with fear and pain, 
 
 Peering with eyes hand-shaded at the night 
 In vain endeavor some faint hope to gain. 
 
 But the black wall of darkness beat the light 
 Backward as from a block of ebony. 
 
 The spume and spray like snow-flakes whirling flew 
 Where the torch-bearers stood, half in the sea ; 
 
 From every torch the flakes of red flame blew 
 Backward, as float the blood-stained tufts of down 
 
 Torn by an arrow from a fleeing bird. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS II 
 
 The wind beat down the flame, the rain would drown ; 
 
 Almost it seemed shrill voices might be heard 
 Crying against the beacon set to guide 
 
 The tempest's prey to safety. ** Quench it ! 
 Quench ! '* 
 The voices clamored ; while the angry tide 
 
 Leaped on the bearers to drag down and drench 
 The saving flame. Yet none the less they held 
 
 Their bright, wind-beaten torches high 
 Amid the storm, and as it fiercer swelled 
 
 Flung out defiant hope to sea and sky. 
 
 II 
 
 Like those brave torch-bearers around whom foam 
 
 And wind-blown spray flew blindingly, to-day 
 Stands man upon these shores, refuge and home 
 
 Of Liberty, who fled in sore dismay 
 Across the seas, escaping lash and chain, — 
 
 The nameless tortures of the sullen East, 
 Where souls are thrown like dice and manhood 
 slain ; — 
 
 The tyrannies of Europe, rack of priest 
 And knout of Tzar, the dungeon and the spy ; — 
 
 The cunning craft of Bismarks, gluing up 
 
12 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 With blood an empire ; — the infuriate cry 
 
 Of France, drunk both with blood and pleasure's 
 cup; — 
 England's supreme brutality, which leaps 
 
 To strike each weak, defenceless land, and leaves 
 Her bravest sons to die unsuccored ; keeps 
 . Ireland in chains beneath her feet, and weaves 
 A net of tyrannies around the earth 
 Until the sun can never on them set. 
 
 Such things have been. Alas for man when birth 
 
 Means slavery ! 
 
 Her snowy shoulders wet 
 With unstaunched blood, torn by the biting lash ; 
 
 Her wrists scarred with the gyves ; her pleading eyes 
 Piteous in wild entreaty ; bruise and gash 
 
 On her fair brow, — fled Liberty, with cries 
 Which startled to the stars with piercing dread. 
 
 Daring to draw our daily breath like men, 
 To walk beneath the sky with lifted head. 
 
 How should we know man's degradation when 
 His every heartbeat slackens with the fear 
 
 Of lash and chain, — life's meaning to the slave ? 
 It was from this fled Liberty, and here 
 
 She finds a refuge or she finds a grave. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 13 
 
 For, O America, our country ! Land 
 
 Hid in the west through centuries, till men 
 Through countless tyrannies could understand 
 
 The priceless worth of freedom, — once again 
 The world was new-created when thy shore 
 
 First knew the Pilgrim keejjs ; that one last test 
 The race might make of manhood, nor give o'er 
 
 The strife with evil till it proved its best. 
 Thy true sons stand as torch-bearers, to hold 
 
 A guiding light. Here the last stand is made. 
 If we fail here, what new Columbus bold. 
 
 Steering brave prow through black seas unafraid. 
 Finds out a fresh land where man may abide 
 
 And freedom yet be saved ? The whole round earth 
 Has seen the battle fought. Where shall men hide 
 
 From tyranny and wrong, where life have worth, 
 If here the cause succumb ? If greed of gold 
 
 Or lust of power or falsehood triumph here, 
 The race is lost ! A globe dispeopled, cold. 
 
 Rolled down the void a voiceless, lifeless sphere, 
 Were not so stamped by all which hope debars 
 
 As were this earth, plunging along through space 
 Conquered by evil, shamed among the stars, 
 
 Bearing a base, enslaved, dishonored race ! 
 
14 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Here has the battle its last vantage ground; 
 
 Here all is won or here must all be lost; 
 Here freedom's trumpets one last rally sound ; 
 
 Here to the breeze its blood-stained flag is tossed. 
 America, last hope of man and truth, 
 
 Thy name must through all coming ages be 
 The badge unspeakable of shame and ruth. 
 
 Or glorious pledge that man through truth is free. 
 This is thy destiny ; the choice is thine 
 
 To lead all nations and outshine them all; — 
 But if thou failest, deeper shame is thine, 
 
 And none shall spare to mock thee in thy fall. 
 
 HI 
 
 As when an avalanche among the hills 
 
 Shakes to their very base the mountains hoar 
 And with a din of vibrant voices fills 
 
 All air and sky, there answer to its roar 
 A hundred empty echoes, poor and thin. 
 
 So words come after deeds ; so must words stand 
 For all that men hold holiest, all they win 
 
 By might of soul no less than strength of hand. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 15 
 
 What generations desperately brave 
 
 Have fought through war and woe, through doubt 
 and pain. 
 To break the bonds which make of man a slave ; 
 
 How poor are words to gather up their gain ! 
 
 We hear with even, hardly quickened breath 
 
 Or one poor thrill, freedom's supernal name ; 
 The word our fathers cried in blood and death 
 
 Leaves but a dying echo, weak and tame. 
 We read the patriots' roll with hearts unmoved. 
 
 And count their deeds as old wives' tales grown 
 stale ; 
 The glorious fields in which their worth was proved 
 
 Grow thick with grass ; heroic memories fail. 
 
 O men, sons of the world's one land left free. 
 
 What shall bring home to you the mighty truth, — 
 The burden of your sacred destiny. 
 
 The office which is yours in very sooth ? 
 What word will make you feel that you must stand 
 
 Like those torch-bearers in the night and storm ? 
 That mankind struggles desperate toward land, — 
 
 Lost, if your beacon-light do not inform 
 
1 6 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Their tempest-blinded eyes ? Not yours to sit, 
 
 Sheltered and warm, and hear the gale sweep by 
 Unheeded. Let the blazing torch be lit. 
 
 And stand like heroes where the surf is high ! 
 The night roars round us as if tempests cleft 
 
 The solid earth and made the heavens bow; 
 If now the torches fail, what hope is left, — 
 
 For never was more need of aid than now ? 
 
 IV 
 
 Yet not alone from base indifference 
 
 Do her sons fail the land in her sore need. 
 Easy it were to arm in her defence. 
 
 And on the splendid fields of glory bleed. 
 The land lacks not sons at her call would die, — 
 
 It is a harder task for her to live 1 
 And who may say which way duty doth lie ? 
 
 Who tell what aid we to our land may give ? 
 Lo ! like the thunders by a prophet heard 
 
 Telling the things which future days shall see. 
 Far down the ages rolls the mighty word. 
 
 The voice of God : " The Truth shall make you 
 free ! " 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 1 7 
 
 The Truth ! Not now we fight with sword and lance. 
 
 Nor yet with eager bullet swift for prey ; 
 Strife is not fiercest now where foes advance 
 
 In ranks embattled, in mad zeal to slay. 
 Thus have men fought of old, and thus while life 
 
 Is made a pawn in the gr-eat game of fate 
 Men may fight on ; but keener is the strife 
 
 Where bloodless triumphs upon victory wait. 
 
 When first rude savage brutes — but half aware 
 
 That they were men ; feeling their doubtful way 
 To reason and to manhood, — chose some lair 
 
 Where crouched and huddled like wild wolves they 
 lay, 
 They made him chief who beat them down and broke 
 
 Their pride with fear; — but if he did them wrong. 
 If he betrayed, their sullen rage awoke; 
 
 And stealing on him stretched in sleep along, 
 They slew him, — doing sacrifice to truth 
 
 By very treachery, in guiltless crime. 
 
 Oblivion-lost, dull generations, youth 
 
 And age melted together in the lapse of time, 
 
1 8 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Sped from the womb swift-footed to the tomb ; 
 
 And learned of life and love a little, learned 
 Of death and hate how much ! From out the gloom 
 
 Of those dim centuries, long since returned 
 To chaos whence they came, whatever gleam 
 
 Of light glances to sight is but the flare 
 Of sword or lance ; or, if a brighter beam 
 
 Leap up a moment, ' t is the dancing glare 
 Of blazing town, or pyre where in flame 
 
 Some warrior goes in fire to claim reward 
 For hardihood in battle. What was fame 
 
 But echo from the din of fight P Abhorred 
 Was he who dared name peace. All history 
 
 Is writ in blood and stained with battle-smoke; 
 While still that word: "The truth shall make 
 
 YOU FREE ! " 
 
 Uncomprehended, down the ages spoke. 
 
 But what is truth ? Wise sages long inurned 
 And countless generations craved it still 
 
 With unavailing passion, faith which yearned 
 In ecstasies of hope, and ardent will 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 1 9 
 
 Which Stormed high heaven and groped in utmost 
 deep. 
 
 Since time's first day the history of man 
 Has been this quest; and yet of all who sleep 
 
 In graves unnumbered how few won to scan 
 The open secret blazoned all around ! 
 
 What far lands have been searched, what battles 
 fought, 
 What stress of soul endured ; yet men have found 
 
 It not! And found it not because they sought 
 For that which is not; thinking truth a thing, 
 
 Cold concrete fact, their very hands might touch. 
 To which their weakness, their despair might cling. 
 
 How could they know the truth, deeming it such ? 
 How many ages needed man to learn 
 
 That that which changeless is may changeful show ! 
 Alters the sphered moon, although it turn 
 
 With varying phases to our eyes below ? 
 Truth is not brought from far ; it comes not fair 
 
 Like delved gold drudged darkling from the mine; 
 It breathes about us like the morning air; 
 
 For every eye its quenchless glories shine. 
 
20 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Wide as the light, truth is not formal creed. 
 
 Or fact or law or theory ; it takes 
 A thousand shapes protean, now in deed 
 
 And now in doctrine, like a wave which breaks 
 Forever on the jagged rocks, and yet 
 
 Is never twice the same. A passing word 
 Holds it a moment, as a jewel set 
 
 In a king*s signet if his hand be stirred 
 Kindles with sudden light then darkens straight ; — 
 
 So with the word upon the very tongue 
 Sudden 't is false. Truth's trumpet tones elate 
 
 Awake to deeds such as the bards have sung, — 
 Then ere their echoes die the clear notes jar, 
 
 And harshest discords crash upon the ear ; 
 Till that which has been truth from truth is far, 
 
 And they who fought in faith shrink back in fear. 
 
 How many noble souls in ages old 
 
 Have given life itself to testify 
 That that was true which now as false we hold ; 
 
 Faiths which to-day discarded, trampled lie 
 Have been the war-cry thrilling hearts austere; 
 
 Legions have rushed their triumph to achieve. 
 And with their blood have written crimson-clear 
 
 Upon a hundred fields : ** This we believe ! " 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 21 
 
 From fallen truth to truth shall fall the race 
 
 Goes ever forward. What to-day is true 
 To-morrow will be false, and in its place 
 
 New creeds as frail will live their short day through. 
 Like bubbles on a flood, brief as a breath, 
 
 Yet telling how the stream flows ceaselessly. 
 Truth's brave illusions have their birth and death, 
 
 Immutable in mutability. 
 For truth is as a ray of light let fall 
 
 Upon the sea, — for every wavelet bright 
 A different beam ; the same for all 
 
 And yet diverse in every mortal's sight. 
 It were as easy for a babe to reach 
 
 And gather up the sunshine on the floor 
 As to enchain elusive truth in speech, — , 
 
 Though changeless yet evasive evermore. 
 
 VI 
 
 Who then shall know truth ? Who the glory claims 
 
 To feel his being kindle with its fire ? 
 How amid falsehood's thousand dancing flames 
 
 Know the pure spark of man's supreme desire ? 
 
22 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Stand with thyself alone. Let mankind be ' 
 
 As if it were not. Question then thy soul: 
 " Say now what thou believest ? " That for thee 
 
 Is truth the ultimate. The hoar stars roll 
 No surer in their orbits, firmly stayed 
 
 By unseen bonds of elemental force, 
 Than man's inmost integrity is swayed 
 
 By that which is of verity the source. 
 
 Eons through space and through eternity 
 
 The universe sweeps forward on its way ; — 
 Whence, who shall say ? While whither utterly 
 
 Is hid from knowledge as night hides the day. 
 Yet all men feel the current of its tide ; 
 
 We know the push of unseen hands behind. 
 Man's earliest conscious thought barbaric tried 
 
 With groping speech a name for this to find, 
 And called it God or destiny or fate ; 
 
 Weighing assurance by the weight of doubt; 
 Greater in faith because of fear more great ; 
 
 Believing most what least man might search out. 
 To-day Doubt, with her sneering, chilling smile, — 
 
 She who destroys all faiths which time hath spared 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 23 
 
 As the weird sphinx with her entangling guile 
 
 Devoured them whom her riddle had ensnared ; 
 Doubt, who with her destructive finger breaks 
 
 Each gleaming bubble of fair fancy frail. 
 And of its iridescent beauty makes 
 
 A drop discolored, — laughs to scorn the tale 
 Of other days as fable void and vain. 
 
 Only one thing remains she may not reach ; 
 One thing which man can never doubt, though slain 
 
 All other verities the ages teach. 
 Conviction moves us still. What man believes 
 
 We reverence, whether we his faith may share 
 Or wonder how some wile his faith deceives. 
 
 We feel the truth, beyond all aware 
 That truth lies in sincerity, though shame 
 
 And ignorance have bred and folly mean, — 
 As fire is pure although its lambent flame 
 
 Feed on heaped foulness, festering and obscene. 
 
 On this rests all the faith of man in man ; 
 
 All brotherhood, all knowledge and all hope. 
 On this rests love. All human dealing scan, 
 
 Nor find the limits of its gracious scope ! 
 
24 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Why is the martyr's name the highest crown 
 
 Which man may win, save that it proves him true 
 To that which speaks within ? Lo, up and down 
 
 The wide, cold earth their influences renew 
 Courage and faith, till all true men thereat 
 
 Are steadfast in their turn, aroused thereby ; — 
 Not for the thing which they believed, but that 
 
 They did believe, and dared for this to die ! 
 
 See where a broken host, desperate and torn, 
 
 Reddened with blood as with the sunset's glow. 
 Sweeps down the field in one last charge forlorn, 
 
 Knowing their cause is lost, yet choosing so 
 To fling their lives up in the face of fate, — 
 
 Too resolute to fear, too great to grieve, — 
 Exultant thus their death to dedicate 
 
 To that which they through life might not achieve. 
 And all mankind shall honor them, — yea, all ! 
 
 Though they fight in an evil cause, they fight 
 For truth who hold conviction firm ; and fall 
 
 Martyrs for truth, and children of the light. 
 
 There was a morn when all Rome stood aghast. 
 Riven with a thunder-bolt from Jove on high 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 25 
 
 Yawned in the forum a chasm deep and vast 
 
 As hell itself might at the bottom lie. 
 Tumultuous terror through the city sped. 
 
 Mothers their babies clasped, and maids as pale 
 As lilies lightning-seared, fear-smitten fled 
 
 Up to the pillared temples, with wild wail 
 Crying to the immortal gods for aid. 
 
 Men whose undaunted might Rome boasted, now 
 Were weak as cowards, trembling and afraid. 
 
 The priests with smoking sacrifice and vow 
 Of hecatombs to the vexed deities 
 
 Strove to assuage heaven's wrath ; until at last 
 The sullen oracle what would appease 
 
 Indignant Jove proclaimed : " Let there be cast 
 Into the gaping depth Rome's choicest thing." 
 
 Then rode young Mettus Curtius to the brink, 
 And reined his curd-white horse in act to spring. 
 
 " Lo, here," he cried ; '' can hoary wisdom think 
 Of aught in Rome more choice, to Rome more dear. 
 
 More precious in the sight of gods and men 
 Than Rome's young manhood ? " 
 
 Down the chasm sheer 
 
 He leaped to death and glory ; and again 
 The rifted forum trembled, while as wave 
 
26 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Whelms into wave, the abyss shuddering closed, 
 Gulfing with greedy maw the dauntless brave, 
 
 Forever deathless there in death reposed. 
 We count his faith but folly ; yet every heart 
 
 Still at his deed must thrill, because he died 
 For that which he believed, and stands apart 
 
 By that supreme devotion sanctified. 
 
 Woe were it mole-blind man if truth for him 
 
 Meant vision piercing down eternity. 
 Solving creation's riddles far and dim. 
 
 The secret of infinity to see. 
 We scan the countless errors of the past 
 
 And know them false, yet these were very proof 
 Of mankind's truth. Brave hearts have held them fast. 
 
 And given life Itself in their behoof 
 Even at the very mouth of error's den 
 
 Will singleness of soul build truth a shrine; 
 Truth's lily flowers, star-white, In falsehood's fen ; 
 
 Sincerity makes even doubt divine. 
 
 See where Niagara majestic pours 
 
 Its flood stupendous down the precipice, 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 27 
 
 And from its thousand throats Titanic roars 
 
 Shoutings which quiver through the wide abyss. — 
 Seek not truth's image there ; but look below 
 
 Where wild the whirling, seething Rapids rush, 
 Striving in wrath and tumult to and fro, 
 
 Wave smiting wave as rocks together crush. 
 Force battling force in Nature's feud supreme, 
 
 Confusion infinite, uncurbable ; — 
 While underneath the turmoil still the stream 
 
 Makes ever seaward ; undisturbable 
 The law which urges on. Each jarring wave, 
 
 Each boiling whirlpool, while it seems to stay. 
 Yet helps the river onward ; floods that rave. 
 
 Current and eddy, all one law obey. 
 Thus truth goes forward. Every thought sincere, 
 
 Conviction's every word and every deed, — 
 Although they seem to hinder, and appear 
 
 As counter-currents, — every passing creed, 
 Each noble error where the soul is true 
 
 Though human weakness blind poor human sight, — 
 Helps the truth onward. Be our glimpses few 
 
 Of that great tide which to some ocean bright 
 Flows on forever ; be its surface vexed 
 
 With turmoils infinite ; hidden by spray 
 
28 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 And foam and spume ; its channels all perplexed, 
 Yet be thou sure nothing its course can stay. 
 
 What man believes is truth. To this alone 
 
 The ages cling. The greedy hand of time 
 Steals all but this. From origin unknown 
 
 To destiny unknown moves man, sublime 
 In this alone, that he forever dwells, 
 
 If so he will, with inmost being lit 
 By truth's clear light divine, which ever wells 
 
 From the deep glories of the infinite. 
 
 VII 
 
 Such then is truth, and truth shall make man free. 
 
 Strong is that land whose every son is true 
 To the clear flame of his integrity. 
 
 Strong any land, though armed guards be few. 
 Poor her defences, weak her armament. 
 
 Whose sons no higher good than truth conceive ; 
 But, each in his own sphere, remain unbent, 
 
 Unswerved from that which they at heart believe. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 2^ 
 
 Mighty that nation, bless'd among the lands, 
 
 Whose sons think first of country, last of self; — 
 Woe were a state where men stretch greedy hands 
 
 Grasping for place, and palms that itch for pelf; 
 Whose senates have become a market-place 
 
 Where laws are to the highest bidder sold ; 
 Where only honesty secures disgrace, 
 
 And honor has no measure save hard gold ; 
 Where parties claim the people's sufferance 
 
 Not for their virtue but for foe's misdeed ; 
 Where public trusts from shame to shame advance. 
 
 And faction vies with faction in its greed ; 
 Where pledges are like balls which jugglers toss ; 
 
 Where no abuse of place can pass belief; 
 Where patriotism means — profit and loss ; 
 
 And one scarce knows a statesman from a thief! 
 
 Shall our land come to this ? Is such the end 
 Of all our fathers' loss and toil divine ? 
 
 Their burning hope, their faith which could transcend 
 All doubt and present agony ; resign 
 
 All that the flesh holds dear, counting it naught 
 If thus they might to their own souls be true; 
 
30 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 If thus new freedom for the race be bought ; 
 
 And truth its mighty kingdom here renew ? 
 Shall our land ever come to this, — our state, 
 
 The last hope of mankind ? Shall it betray 
 The high trust of its destiny, — ingrate. 
 
 The mock of all the earth, shame of the day. 
 Stained with disgrace too deep for night to hide ? 
 
 Shall our loud-sounding boasts of freedom, made 
 To all the globe; the vows of swelling pride 
 
 Flung in the face of man and heaven, fade 
 Like wreaths of smoke? 
 
 Forbid it all the roll 
 
 Of patriots who have died to make us free ; 
 Forbid it, martyrs, great and stern of soul. 
 
 White as Sir Galahad in integrity; 
 Forbid it, noble forefathers, who gave 
 
 Life and all life's best boons of love and peace 
 In high-souled manhood, this one land to save 
 
 For its great destiny, lest freedom cease. 
 And mankind's hope be lost ! 
 
 Forbid it, ye 
 
 On whom the burden lies ; ye, by whose voice 
 Is made the choice of leaders, — yours to see 
 
 That these be men to make the truth rejoice. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 31 
 
 Not Statesmen, dazzling with shrewd eloquence, 
 
 Not politicians, weaving cunning snares. 
 Not even knaves who claim omnipotence 
 
 For bank-accounts, — self-damning unawares ! — 
 Can shape the destiny of this free land. 
 
 They are the hands, but back of them there lies 
 The great will of the people. All shall stand, 
 
 All fall by this, whatever chance arise. 
 However cunning tricksters may befool. 
 
 Or crafty schemers' turn the law aside ; 
 However leaders eloquent may rule. 
 
 Or generous statesmen strive for good to guide ; 
 It is the people's will which must be done. 
 
 The schemer fears it as a slave the lash ; 
 Power circles round it as earth round the sun ; 
 
 It is the last appeal when factions clash. 
 It is your will, men of America, 
 
 Which yonder in the senate-house is wrought ; 
 It is your will, and if anathema 
 
 Be its desert, upon yourselves 't is brought. 
 Your will is law; and if you stand aloof, 
 
 Idle in indolent indifference 
 When shame and evil put the land to proof. 
 
 Where shall our country look for her defence ? 
 
32 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 It is from your conviction must be born 
 
 The truth which makes the nation nobly free. 
 Though night should mock the very hope of morn, 
 
 Hold high the torch of your integrity ! 
 Speak from your very souls, and be not stilled 
 
 By plea of party or by greed of gain ; — 
 Freedom was ne*er by honest error killed ; 
 
 By falsity alone can it be slain. 
 The chain has strength of its least link alone ; 
 
 One loosened sod the avalanche lets slip ; 
 The arch falls crashing through one crumbling stone ; 
 
 One traitor mars the goodliest fellowship. 
 That land alone is safe whose every son 
 
 Is true to his own faith and cannot fail ; 
 Where men cannot be trusted one by one 
 
 Little appeals to all shall have avail ! 
 Be not beguiled by busy theorists 
 
 Who would upon the state all burdens lay. 
 The state but subject to men's will exists. 
 
 Is wise or weak, is true or false, as they. 
 It is in self-hood which makes man divine 
 
 The strength of nations lies. No liberty 
 Can be where men are but a mass supine; 
 
 Each must be true or all cannot be free. 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 33 
 
 Far ofFIn the old misty Norseland sang 
 
 A bard heroic ere the Viking prow 
 Had found out Vinland; and his song, which rang 
 
 Above the clang of swords, avails us now. 
 " Thyself thyself direct ! " the old bard cried. 
 
 The inspiration of that h-igh word still 
 Thrills through us. Thrust all meaner guides aside 
 
 And follow thy best self. Thy good and ill 
 Lie in thine own sure keeping. For the land 
 
 And for thyself thou art thyself as fate. 
 No other man can do thy part ; none stand 
 
 An instant in thy place or soon or late. 
 Thine own soul be thy judge to prove thy worth, 
 
 To try thy deeds by thy conviction's law; — 
 And what were all the glories of the earth 
 
 If this tribunal dread find blame or flaw ! 
 Though plaudits of the nations to the skies 
 
 Proclaim thee great, if thou art small and mean 
 How canst thou deck thy shame in such disguise 
 
 That by thyself thy baseness be not seen ? 
 What though thy virtues choke the trump of fame 
 
 If thou shouldst know them false? Better despite 
 And burning infamy and bitter blame 
 
 Than praise unmerited. Better the blight 
 
34 THE TORCH-BEARERS 
 
 Of all men's censure undeserved than one 
 
 Quick taunt of self, — for what man is is all. 
 Only the truth can matter; and undone 
 
 Is he who for the shadow shall let fall 
 The substance. 
 
 Yet, though self-hood be supreme, 
 
 The lowest deep to which man's soul is led 
 Is selfishness. Thyself from -self redeem. 
 
 The man who lives for self alone is dead. 
 Better St. Simeon Stylites, caged 
 
 Upon his narrow pillar, than the man 
 With his own petty cares alone engaged. 
 
 Not such shall save the land ; but they who scan 
 The broad horizon of humanity. 
 
 Asking their very souls what they may do 
 To help men on and up. They are most free 
 
 Who most for others dare to self be true. 
 Speak out by action thy soul's deep belief; 
 
 Be true to all by faith to thine own sooth ; 
 Amid whatever night of doubt and grief 
 
 Hold high the ever-blazing torch of truth ! 
 
THE TORCH-BEARERS 35 
 
 Men of our college^ gathered here to-day, 
 
 If this be an hard saying ; if I seem 
 
 Too much to play the preacher, let the word 
 
 Or stand or fall as it to you is true. 
 
 To-day the land has bitter need of us. 
 
 Across the sea what myriads swarmijzg co7ne 
 
 From the dark pestilential dens which reek 
 
 With all the Old World's foulness. Those to whom 
 
 Knowledge is given sta^id in double trust, 
 
 Guardia7is of liberty and of the right. 
 
 No man can flee responsibility, 
 
 Which surely as his shadow to him clings. 
 
 Ye are the torch-bearers ; stand firm, stand staunch. 
 
 Light all the coming new-born century 
 
 With splendid blazon in the name of truth I 
 

 
 
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