IRARY OF CONGRESS^ 
 
 Chap. Copyright No. 
 
 Shelf.L^iS'^^^ 
 
 ~/^tT 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

 CU 
 
 ^J-^ 
 
 .5 '^ S 
 
 O o 
 
 .. ^ 
 
 O C 
 
 
SONG OF THE AGES, 
 
 A THEODICY, 
 BC5CDK© I AIMO II, 
 
 And Other Poems. 
 
 BY M. C. O'BYRNE, 
 
 Of the Bar of Illinois, 
 
 So praye I to God that none miswrite thee, 
 Ne thee mysmetre for defaut of tong-e. 
 
 ( Chaucer. ) 
 
 H. E. WICKHAM, Publisher. u ^*^ i 
 
 MDCCCXCVII. 
 
 ^ 
 
 '.V 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
7^ s^^i 
 
 ^^ 5) 
 
 Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year ISO"/ 
 
 By M. C. O'BYRNE, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, 
 
 at Washington, D. C. 
 
This Poem, 
 
 Wherein the Progress of Man is Identified 
 
 WITH THE Purpose of God, 
 
 IS, BY permission, 
 DEDICATED 
 
 To THE Right Honorable W. E. GLADSTONE, 
 Scholar, Patriot, and Statesman, 
 
 BY and through 
 
 Whose Lifelong Devotion to Humanity, 
 
 THE Dawn of the 
 
 New Era of Brotherhood and Justice 
 
 has been so gloriously accelerated. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 An eminent critic, Mr. Theodore Watts, has said that "what 
 is demanded of the epic of art. . . .is unity of impression, harmoni- 
 ous and symmetrical development of a conscious heart-thoug"ht, 
 or motive."* Possessing- this, and being- conscious of it, the pre- 
 sumption is, therefore, that an epic poet is urg-ed to "make" in 
 some such manner as John Wesley's lay preachers were impelled to 
 exhort. If an excuse or apolog-y be desirable for such a work as is 
 here offered to the reader, I can sincerely urg-e that at its inception 
 I felt, — -whether or not deluded time will tell,— assured of both a 
 motive and an impulse. My scheme was, briefly, to 
 
 Vindicate the ways of G-od to Man 
 by tracing- the latter from the first rude cradle, revealed to our 
 wondering- eyes by Science, upward to that g-lorious consummation 
 of the ag-es which it is so sad to be asked to contemplate as in turn 
 certain to sink in endless nig-ht. That the impulse was not lack- 
 ing- is, I think, proved by another of Mr. Watts' measures, for I 
 can honestly avow that during- the prog-ress of this work I felt as 
 a child, "with ears attuned to nothing- but the whispers of those 
 spirits from the Golden Ag-e who, according- to Hesiod, haunt and 
 bless the deg-enerate earth." 
 
 Painfully conscious, however, that in poetry, as in the religf- 
 ious life, there are false and misleading- spirits, I daunch my little 
 barque upon an ocean- where its qualities will be surely and 
 swiftly tested, yet not without hope that this, our first adventure, 
 may encourag-e us once more to put to sea. 
 
 The orig-inal desig-n of a "Song- of the Ag-es" comprehended a 
 poem of at least four books. In deference, however, to a sentiment 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 which seems to be almost universal, — namely, that the people of 
 this g-eneration have no time for epic poetry, — this intention re- 
 mains, at least for the present, unfulfilled. The time, place, and 
 manner of publication have been dictated by the log^ic of circum- 
 stances, — the saeva panpertas which has spared the world incalcul- 
 able volumes of mediocrity. Two years ag-o arrang-ements had 
 been made for issuing- the work in London, the literary centre of 
 the English-speaking world, but almost at the last moment it was 
 withdrawn, the reason bein^ that the author was required to sign 
 a contract that seemed to him both illiberal and unjust. Having- 
 crossed the ocean twice, the book finds its birth in the place of its 
 conception, where possibly it is fated to be buried. In one sense, 
 however, the song- and the sing-er are singularly favored: they are 
 both free from the taint of that commercialism which, when it 
 finds a place in literature as a controlling- principle, is like the 
 wide breaking- in of the waters of desolation. 
 Now, Little Book, g-o forth in peace! 
 
 M. C. O'Byrne. 
 La Salle, Illinois. 
 March 10, 1897. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 I. 
 
 De Profundi s. 
 
 De profundis clamavi! from the depths of my soul I cried, 
 Asking- lig-ht from the darkness, where I wandered without a guide; 
 For the stars that twinkled above me they recked not of me or my prayer. 
 And the weight of a life that was wasted had burthened my heart with 
 
 despair: 
 Asking light from the darkness, for the stars that shine in the sky, 
 Though questioned through countless ages, have never vouchsafed reply: 
 Listening in vain 'mid the silence for a voice that should pierce the gloom. 
 Watching in vain for the angel to roll the sealed stone from the tomb, 
 Where, wrapped in folded cerecloths, the weft that my hands had made. 
 My early hopes were buried, where my own dead Past was laid. 
 From the depths of my soul I pleaded till my mood was changed to scorn 
 Of the senseless god* that cannot resolve us why man is born. 
 Of brooding Brahni amorphous in whose thought the world began, 
 The god whose sole interpreter is Echo, the wife of Pan. 
 And weary and worn with thinking, I said I will live as one 
 Who recks not of the evil to follow the morning's sun; 
 I will drink of the cup of pleasure, I will hie me to Beauty's arms, 
 And renew my youth in dalliance at the wellspring of her charms, 
 My golden youth, my potent youth, when Function and Desire 
 Went hand in hand unto the shrine where glowed the Paphian fire. 
 
 "■'■Apparently oblivious of the purpose of this poem, a "clever" publisher's 
 reader objected that this and the succeeding lines were atheistic. It was scarcely 
 worth while to controvert so learned a Theban. 
 
10 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Dixit Insipieiis. 
 
 Come, let us live, my Lesbia! come, Lesbia, let us love!^^' 
 
 The day is brief, the nig-ht is long-, the thing's which are above 
 
 Our human ken concern us not, they only are the wise 
 
 Who know the good the hour affords and g-rasp it ere it flies. 
 
 Let Pentheus climb his tree to break th' impenetrable bars, 
 
 And spoil his sig-ht to contemplate the sameness of the stars, 
 
 Their everlasting sameness, in that scroll we ma}^ not read 
 
 One word of thoug-ht or purpose on which man may hang a creed; 
 
 Naug-ht but the tale mechanical, the everlasting round. 
 
 Vicissitude of energy, of space without a bound. 
 
 Or coast or shore or islets g-reen wherein the soul may rest 
 
 As in the bosom of its God, the Islands of the Blest. 
 
 Come, Lesbia, turn thine eyes on me, with me defy the blind 
 
 Chance universe revealed to sense but not revealed to mind. 
 
 Come, let us drink our fill of love and make each present hour 
 
 Give forth its sweets as to the bee the nectar from the flower. 
 
 Twin soul of mine! though none may know what lies beyond the stream 
 
 Of time, or whether aug"ht we see be other than a dream. 
 
 Our love is real; holding- tbee, I care not if the world, 
 
 The cinder heap of caecic Chance, be into chaos hurled. 
 
 Wl'ivainus mea Lesbia, atq' amenius. 
 
III. 
 
 Exurgat Dens! 
 
 As lay Titanog"ene'2' the while its beak the vulture dyed 
 
 In blood and g"all, so lay I when my Lesbia left my side. 
 
 O Sun, didst thou forbear to shine when I, in my despair, 
 
 Blasphemed thy lig-ht because the Lord of Life denied my prayer, 
 
 And claimed His own? O crusted Earth, say, was thy g-ranite. shell 
 
 Convulsed when from my frenzied soul I cursed all Nature? Tell, 
 
 Oh tell me all ye lucent orbs that sail aethereal seas 
 
 What shocks disturb their limpid calm when impious thoug"hts like these 
 
 Rush forth into infinity, to roll for evermore, 
 
 The billows of man's impotence, through seas without a shore? 
 
 There bound, but mutinous, I lay, and there, O Power Divine! 
 
 Thy love discovered me, there poured the healing- oil and wine: 
 
 The veil was rent, the cumulus of doubt was thrown aside, 
 
 And with unclouded eye I saw my Maker justified. 
 
 O Lord of Life, O Quickener! inspire my feeble lips 
 
 To tell the vision that I saw in that apocalypse! 
 
 Resolve the chaos of my mind as Thou of old didst spread 
 
 Thy wings o'er earth's proplasmic mist to vivify the dead! 
 
 Tune thou the poet's harp and teach his hand to strike the keys. 
 
 To show how the Arch-Poet makes celestial symphonies! 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 THE STONE AGE. 
 I. 
 
 Descend, ye stateliest of the dulcet choir 
 
 Whose haunt is by the sacred spring's! descend, 
 
 Calliope and Clio, and inspire 
 
 This tale of Merops*^', haply it may blend 
 
 Myth, fantasy, and fable, as of old 
 
 The voices of the rivers and the trees 
 
 Comming-led in that loftier story told 
 
 Of Ilion's fall by rapt Masonides! 
 Forsake awhile the sacred mount, desert the hallowed ring- 
 Trod by Apollo's feet, and aid your votary to sing! 
 
 II. 
 
 To sing of man primaeval, man co-heir 
 
 With mammoth and with unicorn; his home 
 
 Theirs also, rocky caves and grottos where 
 
 The congealed crystals wrought on floor and dome, — 
 
 The archetypes of all his greatest work 
 
 In after ages, — column, gargoyle, frieze. 
 
 Buttress and span; his chief intent to lurk 
 
 Within some deep recess or shade of trees 
 In fearful hope and hopeful fear, yet resolute to tear 
 His weapons from the antlered elk, his raiment from the bear. 
 
 III. 
 
 Behold him, then, the primal man, in whom 
 
 There latent sleeps the godlike g-ift of mind, 
 
 Suspended, dormant, as within the womb 
 
 Of the great cosmic universe, combined 
 
 With metalloids and metals, in some cloud 
 
 Of distant world-stuff haply there may float 
 
 The fiery embryos of a radiant crowd 
 
 Of future world-kings, who in some remote 
 As yet chaotic sphere shall rise to reinforce the throng 
 Of those who round the great white throne shall chant the victor's sons". 
 
 (3)M,"-/joi/), the voice-dividing-, an epithet of man. 
 
14 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 IV. 
 To him unknown as we have learned to know 
 Thy loveliness, O Maia! from his birth 
 The sport of wild convulsion — hail and snow, 
 The torrent's roar and the rude tempest's mirth. 
 These were his lullabies, while overhead 
 The rug"g-ed peaks, icebound, were rent and torn 
 By blasts from Phleg^ethon which seemed the dread 
 Voices of strident demons, who in scorn 
 Of helpless man their levin bolts in frolic fury whirled, 
 And shook in wanton play the props and pillars of the world. 
 
 V. 
 
 See where the trog^lodyte, his reeking- hands 
 Red with the current from his quarry's veins. 
 Betakes him to yon cave; see where she stands. 
 His partner, sharer of his joy.s and pains. 
 Primaeval wife and mother; to her breast 
 She hug's her offspring", fortified with fold 
 '^ And cincture of warm fur, love's forethought lest 
 
 The puny life should shrivel in the cold 
 Of this aphelial realm, — e'en here, despite the g-lacial breath. 
 Maternal love shines bright and clear, the love that conquers death. 
 
 VI. 
 My mother, O ni}' mother! oft I deem 
 That thou art by my side, — what though the thought 
 Be but a fantasy, a waking dream. 
 Yet I encourage it, for doth it not 
 Present me with thine image? — not as when 
 I saw thee last in life, thy gaze withdrawn 
 To that near shore whose brilliant Pharos then 
 Bespoke the haven and allured thee on, — 
 Not thus, but as when in thy prime, tender and true and mild, 
 I see thee, mother, once again and am once more a child. 
 
VII. 
 
 The soul will oft grow ag-ed ere the clay 
 In which it is imprisoned doth attain 
 Its due development, because a day 
 May blig-ht and make it sere; as when the grain 
 Falls wilted in the jag-g-ed lig-htning-'s track, 
 Or crushed beneath the cloudburst not to rise 
 Once more a g-olden plateau from the wrack 
 Of the fierce deluge, though autumnal skies 
 Gleam sapphire-like from dawn till eve, — and how shall hope survive 
 In tainted breasts where guilt and g-rief leave not the g-erm alive? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But constant through the mists of rolling- years, 
 Undimmed by time, uncankered by disg^race. 
 One hallowed form in memorj^'s shrine appears, 
 One sacred icon nothing- can efface, — 
 Thy mother's, child of sorrow! — bitter tears 
 Of blood perchance thy heart has shed since last 
 Her voice fell on thine ear, thy toils and fears 
 And sorrows have been many, but the past 
 Holds no remembrance that can move thy spirit like to this — 
 The memory of thy mother's look, the memory of her kiss. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And now, firm-treading o'er the roug-li moraine. 
 Comes the swart hunter laden with his spoil 
 Of sheep whose musky fragrance fills the plain 
 With that strong- essence which the artful toil 
 Of later Byzantine'^' shall intermix 
 With mortar in the Holy Wisdom's pile, 
 Justinian's g-lory, where the crucifix 
 Fell blood-imbrued beneath the crescent, while 
 A martyr's and a patriot's death, the noblest end, was thine. 
 Last of thy race as of the Greeks, O g-allant Constantine! 
 
 (4)In allusion to the leg-end that in building the cathedral of Saint Sophia musk 
 was added to the lime in making- mortar. 
 
16 . SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 X. 
 
 Sweet home! thoug-h but a hollow in the cliff, 
 Or wattled hut, pile-founded in the mere, 
 As dear unto the protoplast as if 
 Its walls were marble, rising- tier on tier 
 In storied eleg-ance with all that art 
 Can g-ive of streng^th and beauty: that is home, 
 In desert or in wildwood, where the heart 
 Still finds its centre wheresoe'er we roam; 
 The dearest spot on earth to man, where urg^ed by love the soul 
 Turns always as the needle turns toward the mystic pole. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Better the cave, the implement of stone, 
 Lacustrine hut, and the rude couch of leaves. 
 Than factory and furnace, which have g-rown 
 To be man's social curse, where naug-ht relieves 
 The dull routine, no harmonies assuag-e 
 The whirling- dissonance of wheel on wheel. 
 And hope and love seem blotted from the pag^e 
 Of Nature's volume: are there drug-s to heal 
 The cankered sores of Industry, or toiiics to restore 
 The vital fluid to its veins and cleanse it as of 3^ore? 
 
 XII. 
 
 Call not that home where, in the city's slums, 
 The poor are herded in a g-risly swarm; 
 Where one unsullied zephyr never conies 
 To fan the fevered forehead, or the warm 
 Pellucid beams from Him that walks on hig-h'^' 
 Find unobstructed entrance, where the soul 
 Grows dwarfed and stunted in a prurient sty, 
 Necropolis of virtue, and the whole 
 Grim offspring- of Gehenna's pit in raw putrescence swell. 
 Expanding- in its foetid slime to coprag-og-es of hell. 
 
XIII. 
 
 The thing- that hath been shall be: write ye this 
 Sure proverb, nomothete, upon the walls 
 In senate and in forum; Nemesis 
 Herself is bound by fate, and naug-ht befalls 
 The g-lobe or man but by the fixed decree 
 Of Him whose thoug^hts are ceons and whose touch 
 On the three world-keys, crust and air and sea, 
 Is rhythmic revolution, causing such 
 Mutations as the sages tell the polar-cycles bring 
 When the swerved index makes complete the equinoctial ring-.^^' 
 
 XIV. 
 Antelial winters once again shall lock 
 Their adamantine fetters 'round the zone 
 Whose life is now exuberant, the shock 
 Hypogenous be heard, as when o'erthrown 
 Atlagenes*''^ slid smoothly 'neath the wave, 
 Metropolis of millions; once again 
 The happy hyperboreans shall lave 
 Their feet in thermal fountains, and the fen 
 Resound with cry of hern and coot where now the Iceking reigns, 
 And towers and palaces arise to grace the fertile plains. 
 
 XV. 
 O welcome revolution, if it bring 
 To earth once more another golden age. 
 Like unto that the shepherd boy did sing,'^^ — 
 At once the Muses' prophet, bard, and sage, — 
 On slopes of Helicon, the while his sheep 
 Cropped the green herbage by the Horse's Well, 
 Bright Hippocrene, or surveyed the deep. 
 Calm pool where Aganippe's waters fell. 
 And ruminating saw unmoved reflected flocks below, 
 Where every mirrored fleece shone back like piles of drifted snow. 
 
 (6)The precession of the equinoxes. 
 
 ^''JAtlagenes, the assumed metropolis of Atlantis. 
 
 («)The poet Hesiod. 
 
18 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XVI. 
 Thrice happy time, the g-olden age ere g-old 
 Was aug-ht but an adornment! Mother Karth, 
 Renew thy youth and beauty, as of old 
 Bring- healthful children to a painless birth! 
 What thoug-h our marts, where man is bought by man, 
 Be ice-:Concreted and g-reen g-laciers g-lide 
 Where sewag^e-tainted rivers whilome ran 
 Their slug-gish poison to the ocean's tide? 
 Perish the past if from its wreck we win a worthier wealth. 
 And man's lost birthrig-ht be restored of innocence and health! 
 
 XVII, 
 
 Surve}^ we now the home, the parent nest 
 Of human fellowship, wherein the three, — 
 Rude husband, wife, and babe, — are g-one. The best 
 Of all man's later art is mimicry 
 Of what we here behold. A lofty hall. 
 Resplendent with a myriad marvels wroug-ht 
 In grandest symmetry on roof and wall. 
 Each web from Nature's factory a thought 
 Of the great Master Weaver, God, a product of the loom 
 Whose shuttle weaves for men and worlds birth, progress, death, and 
 doom. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Look where the ruddy glow from yonder fire, — 
 Assiduously fed — for heat is dear 
 To man unclothed by Nature, — turns each spire 
 And bulb of stalagmite to gold; the near 
 Columnar crystals gleam like rubies, while 
 The farther stalactites seem draped in bands 
 And scarfs of varying bronze, as in the aisle 
 Or nave of some great church each pillar stands 
 A column bound with rainbow rings when at the close of day 
 Through many a rare and pictured pane the level sunbeams play. 
 
XIX. 
 
 Midway within the grotto gleams a fount, 
 A silvery basin without duct or course 
 Of visible supply, its verg-e a mount 
 Of alabaster like to that whose source 
 Is found near well-springed Thebes; many a form 
 Of tasseled crystal, feather, flower, fern, — 
 Fantastic trifles, — everywhere adorn 
 Its marge and sparkle in the tranquil urn; 
 While pendent dripstones glint and glow, and in the flickering- lig-ht 
 Appear like Titan arms indued with harness for the fig"ht. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Yet this is but a vestibule to halls 
 More gorg-eous still, whose labyrinthine ways 
 No human foot hath traversed, on whose walls 
 Nor light nor eye shall linger till the days 
 When, following perennial snows, the rude 
 Autocthones shall turn where Charles's Wain 
 Wheels nightly 'round the pole, when men endued 
 With energies more potent shall attain 
 This altered region, frigid now, but then attuned to yield 
 Demeter*^) duty and afford the vineyard and the field. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Lo! where the matron with deft^hand divides 
 The perfumed flesh and smiling- gives her lord 
 Choice morsels from the embers, and provides 
 The healthful condiment: enoug-h reward 
 For her, as aye with woman, to enjoy 
 The secret bliss of service knit with love; 
 Her worship and best pleasure to employ 
 Her mind with cares domestic, as the dove 
 Delig-hts to feed her callow brood and to the feeble nest 
 Devotes her constant ministry, the shelter of her breast. 
 
 O'Demeter, goddess of agriculture. 
 
XXII. 
 
 Judg-e her by this, her self-denying--soul, 
 All ye who speak of woman; measure not, 
 O man, by thine her nature nor extol 
 Superior sinews or profounder thoug-ht, 
 When these are thine, by her disparag-ement; 
 For thou art woman born and in the womb 
 Where thou wast fashioned her heart pulses lent 
 Quick motion to thy blood, and in that loom, 
 When first the shuttle of thy life the mystic weft began, 
 Her being gave response and hailed another child of man. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Gross is the meal, immoderate and coarse, 
 Their manners brutish; as they eat they cast 
 On either hand the refuse, fecund source. 
 The midden thus created, of a vast 
 Offensive colony of thing-s corrupt 
 Which live by putrefaction and which breed 
 Disease and death in man or interrupt 
 Somatic harmony; but little heed 
 The cave folk g-ive to worm or fly, contented to provide 
 Their daily food, theirs is the bliss to know no wish denied. 
 
 XXIV. 
 Deem not their lives a dull eventless round, 
 A joyless sequence of unvarying ways: 
 Their names are lost to earth, no laurel crowned 
 Heroic Nimrod of their race displays 
 His prowess in enslaving-. Happy they 
 Whose footsteps history traceth not in war 
 Or leg-al codes or digests! Speed the day, 
 O Power Supreme, when no restraints shall mar 
 The primal freedom of thy sons save those prescribed by love, 
 When lion shall lie down with lamb and falcon nest with dove! 
 
XXV. 
 
 Yet who among- earth's mig-htiest ever dared 
 To rival these in deeds of high emprise? 
 Not he^iO' who 'g-ainst the Cretan man-bull bared 
 The rock-drawn sword of ^93geus: fancy tries 
 In vain to picture foes more horrent than 
 The protoplast encountered, — hug-eous bear, 
 Rhinoceros, and monstrous tusker, — man 
 The hunter then was hunted, and the lair 
 He called his home was only his by conquest from the dread 
 And fretful cave cat prowling- where her spotted whelps were bred. 
 
 XXVI. 
 Gig-antic proboscideans, mastodon, 
 
 World-wandering- Nippletooth with white tusks, borne 
 Like Seljuk scimetars for battle drawn; 
 Long--fronted bisons with puissant horn; 
 Aurochs and urus, bear and tig-er; these 
 He met and meeting- vanquished, armed with spear 
 Bone-tipped and axe of silex, and the sea's 
 Balajnic monarch churned the waves in fear 
 When in far Thule's shallow sounds, now hig^h above the tide, 
 The patient hunter's flinty dart was buried in its side. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 O first of world-subduers, hail, all hail! 
 
 Let loftier bards choose hig-her themes and sing- 
 
 Of warring- g-ods and heroes clad in mail; 
 
 Be mine the less ambitious task to bring- 
 
 This humbler effort to the Muses' seat. 
 
 If haply it may move one living- heart 
 
 To throb in sympathy with him whose feet 
 
 Have left no traces, albeit the part 
 He played on earth was nobly played, the pioneer in time 
 Of that immortal multitude whose footfalls are sublime. 
 
22 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 Hail, pioneer! thy strug"g-le with the blind 
 Unbending- forces of thine age forbade 
 Aught save provision for thy needs; — the mind 
 Advances not in states where man is made 
 A beast of burthen or a slave condemned 
 To barter liberty and life for bread. 
 All nature seemed thine adversary; hemmed 
 And g-irt with hostile ag-encies, thy thread 
 Of life was all too frail forsooth for thee to cultivate 
 The simplest arts that soften man and modify his state. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Perchance thou wert, as some have deemed, a child 
 Who lineage drew from Eden where thy sire 
 Leaped virile into being", undefiled 
 By taint hereditary; or the fire 
 Divine, such as Prometheus stole to give 
 The spark immortal to his form of clay, 
 Some mild arboreal satyrs, such as live 
 In Borneo's or Sumatra's forests, may 
 Have taken from His breath whose Word creative can compel 
 Or stocks or stones to put on life and rise His Israel. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Whate'er thine origin, no Paradise 
 Knew thee as tenant, for thy lot was cast 
 In elemental struggle, when the ice 
 Slow-yielding sought the mountain snows, and vast 
 Mutations met thy ken while torrents bore 
 Alps piecemeal down, and wild confusion reigned 
 Where boulder-laden rivers swept the floor 
 Of dale and valley: thy strong soul sustained 
 Unfiinchitigly the cosmic strife although thou could'st not see 
 God's hand at work by drift and flood producing harmony. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 All time is mere transition, thoug-h there be 
 Oppug-nant eras when two periods meet, 
 Rereward and vangfuard, on the boundary 
 Where each alternately prevails; the feet 
 Precursive of Aurora's heralds g^raze 
 The impish heels that follow in the train 
 Of her who sprang- from Chaos, when the Day's 
 Glad harbing-ers arouse the willing" swain, 
 And for a season rosy morn appears to ling-er long-, 
 As loath to follow in the track of the anarchic throng-. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 So man, unsocial, in the pristine years. 
 Anarch and monarch, recog-nized no rule 
 Or limitation save his hopes and fears 
 As consort, sire, provider; in the school 
 Primaeval all were children, and they learned 
 By instance not by precept: what are laws 
 But fetters on our freedom, often turned 
 To vilest purpose when the tj^rant draws, — 
 Or king- or mob a tyrant still; — adroitly round a land 
 A leg-al net of ordinance and tig-htens mesh and strand? 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The first of patriarchs, his sway confined 
 Within one little realm, was there a king- 
 Whose loyal subjects piously enshrined 
 His imag-e in their hearts: what g-olden ring-, 
 Encircling- conquering- brows to weig-h them down. 
 In after years, thoug-h brig-ht with many a g-em 
 And star-shot<i^> crystal, what imperial crown 
 Shines with the splendour of his diadem? 
 His family his king-dom's bound, with simple wants and few. 
 He reigned supreme and tasted joys that conquerors never knew. 
 
 (ll)In allusion to the opinion that the diamond is of meteoric orig-in. 
 
24 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Content is happiness: that man is lord 
 Of all the world, whate'er may be his state, 
 To whom the world no pleasure can afford 
 Beyond his present living-: though we rate 
 Wealth, learning-, pride of place, respect of men. 
 As thing-s to be desired, wanting- these, — 
 Their lack unknown, — life may be joyous when 
 Sound mind and body vouchsafe perfect ease. 
 The untamed savag-e, strong- in health, and blithesome as the roe, 
 Is happy with a bliss as pure as Fortune can bestow. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The lowly peasant, whistling- from the ploug-h, 
 Eupeptic finds his daily meal a feast 
 That castled lords mig-ht envy; on the brow 
 The sweat of ag-riculture plants the least 
 Impress of care: lie close to Nature's breast 
 Nor vex thy mind with theses of the schools. 
 Or futile explanations, leave the quest 
 Of cause and essence to the learned fools 
 Whose puddles are their universe, so shaltthou live arig-ht, 
 Each day devoted to its task, to quiet sleep the nig-ht. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 By nature g-rave, primaeval man could yet 
 Hold sportive intercourse with his compeers; 
 And then as now the youths and virg-ins met 
 In simple pleasures suited to their years. 
 The mimic chase, where the coy virg-in flees 
 Her ardent lover eag-er for the prize; 
 The artless dance devoid of mysteries, 
 But merely g-ladsome motion, in which eyes 
 Oft told a story old e'en then, but yet as new to-day 
 As when primaeval stripling- met primaeval maid in play. 
 
XXXVII. 
 Or round the g^lowing" hearth the elders sat 
 To tell of perils mastered, of the fierce 
 And woolly unicorn, whose felted mat 
 No flint could sever and no bone could pierce; 
 Of cave-bear, mammoth, bison; or perchance 
 Some hoary senior spoke of thing-s that live 
 Unseen of human eye, the sprites that dance 
 Within the forest gflades, and those that g"ive 
 
 Their breath to swell the tempest's roar, and those dread g^nomes whose 
 ire 
 
 Can melt the solid rock and cap the mountain snows with fire. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 Or just before the g^loaming", when the sun's 
 Last kiss had turned the summits into g"old, 
 And nig-ht advancing" summoned weary ones 
 To rest from toil or play, the senior told 
 Of Him, the g-reat All-Father, b}^ whose word 
 All things that are sprang" into being-. Him 
 Whose mandates elemental spirits heard. 
 And hearing- did his bidding- when the g-rim 
 Tong-arsok,(i2) lord of fire, rebelled and marshalled all the clan 
 Of hell-born fiends in proud revolt ere yet the world beg-an. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And oft perchance they raised their song- of praise 
 With tong-ue ag-g-lutinate, link'd words with flow 
 Of oldest root speech, as in later days 
 Altaic slopes have heard or Finland's low 
 And swampy shores: and while their eucharist 
 Went up to God's hig-h throne the sunset dyes 
 Of blended amber, em'rald, amethyst. 
 And deepest sapphire made the western skies 
 Seem like the portals of His heaven, a vision of the blest 
 Abodes where, all their trials o'er, the sons of men should rest. 
 
 (12)Tong-arsok, or Torng-arsuk, the Devil of the Eskimos. 
 
26 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XIv. 
 
 Here mig-ht we leave them at the Father's feet, 
 The while the gates of pearl are opened wide 
 And swift-wing-ed ang-els from the mercy seat, 
 Glad messengers of precious promise, g-lide 
 Ga^e-laden throug-h the sether; but the Muse, 
 Majestic Clio, lays her strong- behest, 
 The which no acolj^te may dare refuse. 
 Upon the Maker^^^^ bidding- him invest 
 Anew with life the valiant soul who ventured to invade, — 
 The first of sailors, — Neptune's realm and sought the alder's aid<i*\ 
 
 XLI. 
 Invention is but finding, and the arts 
 Have g-rown from chance disclosures and discreet 
 Observances of Nature, and the parts, — 
 Or screw or joint or arm or valve, — which meet 
 In some g-reat eng-ine stored with latent force 
 That infant hands mig-ht waken had their rise 
 Mayhap in shell or leaf, some simple source 
 In Nature's workshop where man's enterprise 
 First soug-ht and found the tj^pes of tools by which with ready skill 
 He binds the elements and makes them work his sovereig-n will. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Like some luxurious prodig-al in haste 
 
 To pluck the specious fruit from Pleasure's tree, 
 
 So man, the g-reat empiric, longs to taste 
 
 In every province, air and earth and sea. 
 
 Wifh g-rowing- appetite from ag-e to age, 
 
 Inquisitive, he hastens to explore 
 
 The mysteries of being; to assuag-e 
 
 His thirst for knowledg-e ventures from the shore 
 Where rev'rend custom sanctions faith, and takes each ancient creed 
 And makes it an episteton that he who runs may read. 
 
 (13)The Maker,— z. e., the Poet. 
 
 {WTunc alnos primum flzivii sensere cavafas. (Virg-il, Georg-ica, Lib, I. 136.) 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 27 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 They knew not what the}- soug-ht who the remote 
 Well-wooded Vinland found beyond the wide 
 Atlantic, Lief and Biorn*^^^ and their boat, 
 Broad-beamed and buoyant, skimmed the trackless tide 
 Free as the albatross; their hazard urg-ed 
 The later Dove^^' to take his eag-er flig-ht 
 Where Guanahani's palmy g-roves emerg"ed 
 To vouch his faith and g-lad his sailors' sig^ht. 
 Thy soul was g"reat, bold Genoese, but g-reater still the heart 
 Of thy forerunner. Lief, who knew nor astrolabe nor chart. 
 
 XLIV. 
 Yet who of Triton or of Viking- breed 
 May rival him who, venturesome and brave, 
 Forsook the raft of osier or of reed 
 And launched his coracle upon the wave?'^'' 
 An insect floating- on a wrinkled leaf. 
 Or strip of bark upon some tranquil pool. 
 Or shell-housed mollusc stranded on a reef. 
 Perchance inspired him, thoug-h many a fool 
 Coeval raised the laug^h of scorn, type of the fools who hurled 
 Their monkish g-ibes at him whose hand unlocked another world. 
 
 XLV. 
 O wayside dreamers! ye who with the e)'e 
 Of prescience see the sunrise ere the mist 
 And fog--banks have uplifted and descry 
 The Day-God's fring-es! when his rays have kissed 
 Dome, spire and pinnacle, and when his beams 
 Thoug-h myth-beclouded lattice shed a flood 
 Of g-old upon the altar stone your dreams 
 And ye are vindicated; martyrs' blood. 
 Shed at the scaffold or transformed to bitter g-all by hate, 
 Makes fertile soil in which the thoug"hts of martyrs g-erminate. 
 
 (15)Biorn or, properly, Bjorn. 
 
 (16)Columbus. 
 
 (l^iSee Horace, Od. lib. I. ode iii., 9-20. 
 
XLVI. 
 
 Like spectral ships^^^* that sail ag-ainst the wind 
 
 The Lord's anointed run their eag-er race, 
 
 Each in his generation, each assig^ned 
 
 His travail and his triumph, thoug-h we trace 
 
 Their course but fitfully, the constant chain 
 
 Is never broken, every ag^e begets 
 
 Its suffering" Christ-man on whom all the pain 
 
 Or sin or striving- of our nature sets 
 The seal of expiation and for whom with cruel scorn 
 The world's hig-h priests prepare the cross and plait the crown of thorn. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Almig-hty Feather! can it be that Thou 
 
 Dost re-impose the burthen of this flesh 
 
 On certain of Thy children and endow 
 
 Vicarial victims with our g-uilt afresh? 
 
 I know not, I the Maker of this rime, 
 
 I seek not. Father, curiously to learn; 
 
 For I have sinned and suffered and my prime 
 
 Was wind-swept and afflictive, Lo! I turn 
 Mine eyes to Thee, O Fount Divine, whose love retrieves the past, 
 Believing" that to every form perfection comes at last. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 Thou art the source. Thou also art the end 
 To whom, centripetally, all thing"s move; 
 In whom, when purg"ed of all that can offend 
 The perfect harmony, all thingfs behoove 
 To lose their special essence: when the soul,— 
 Mayhap through divers incarnations, — finds 
 A cure for will perverted and the whole 
 Entangling net of pride and sin which winds 
 Its meshes round the moral Self shall perish, then Thy Son,'!'-^' 
 O God, shall climb the summits where to know and be are one. 
 
 (18)"Like spectral ships," etc.: an idea sug-g-ested, I think, by a sentence in 
 Ivongfellow's "Hyperion." 
 (19)That is, man. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 29 
 
 xux. 
 
 Ivike him who first adventured on the sea, 
 
 Content to rest upon its bosom, I 
 
 Confide, O Father, all my trust in Thee, 
 
 My g-oal and orig-in, nor question Thy 
 
 Divine decrees, for I too am a part. 
 
 However weak, of Thy theophany, 
 
 And in my joys and g-riefs and thoughts Thou art 
 
 Preparing me for that epiphany 
 When, this world's processes complete, Thy vivid Word shall call 
 All emanations to their source and God be all in all. 
 
 L. 
 Like drops returning to the ocean's breast 
 What time the labouring clouds their dews distil; 
 Like pilgrim swallows to their earlier nest 
 What time Apollo scales the northern hill 
 And hawthorn buds are swelling; so all life 
 Still upward, onward holds its steadfast way. 
 Each step perhaps the surer for the strife 
 Anterior in time, until the day 
 
 When the Erinyes^^^* shall have purged the guilt from ever}" soul 
 
 And all creation, deified, attain its final goal. 
 
 LL 
 Some trunk's concavity, deprived of pith. 
 His g-alle3% see the mariner afloat. 
 Drawn by the ebb's slow wooing throug-h the frith 
 To where the sportive Nereids take his boat 
 Within their keeping; there on summer seas. 
 Kissed by the wavelet's crystal lips, we leave 
 Him dubious yet triumphant, while we seize 
 Occasion meet a coronal to weave 
 
 To decorate Poseidon's brow, if by the Muses' grace 
 
 Where amaranthine tributes hang this lay may find a place. 
 
 (20)Better known as the Furies. They are here alluded to in their truer — be- 
 cause older — lig-ht as purifiers. 
 
30 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Flow g-ently round my native isle to-nig^lit, 
 Thou steel-blue Ocean! bid thy breakers lave 
 Its borders loving^ly where Dodman's heig^ht 
 Presents a reefless rampart to the wave! 
 May halcyon zephyrs fan thy tranquil breast 
 Where mild Cornubia bends her crag'g'y horn, 
 Britannia's footstool planted in the west, 
 Where too thy murmured g-reeting" made the morn 
 Of my life's day a dismal dawn with thy divining- boom 
 Of pity as the life-star strove to pierce the g^athering- g-loom. 
 
 LIII. 
 What thoug"h, a wear}^ exile, half my span 
 Denied thy wholesome influence, cooped and pent 
 Where noisome exhalations render man 
 A frail and forward weakling- early spent; 
 Where 3'outh precocious dwindles into ag-e 
 With scarce an interval of bloodless prime? 
 In dreams my yearning- spirit bursts its cag-e, 
 And, freed by fanc}^ once ag-ain I climb 
 The coombe's g-reen barriers, once ag-ain m}'- eag-er g-lance is thrown 
 To where the Rame's brown fing-er points toward the Eddystone. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 And while I g-aze upon thy face, O Sea! 
 My spirit g-rows akin to thine, I hold 
 Methinks within my hand the ready key 
 To Eng-land's g-reatness: lo! thy waves enfold 
 The story of her making-, for thou art 
 Now as of yore her bulwark and her stay. 
 And with the throbbing- of thy mighty heart 
 Her pulses slack and quicken day by day; 
 And in thine ever open pag-e with kindling- eye she reads, 
 As in some wizard's crystal sphere, her dauntless children's deeds. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 LV. 
 
 For me once more the bold Gallants of Fowe}' 
 Sweep out from Gribben's shade with sail and oar 
 To curb the pride of Winchelsea or — joy 
 Of joys the g-reatest! scourg-e the Neustrian shore. 
 For me Black Philip's vultures^^^* flaunt their wing's 
 With g-reedy arrog^ance where sea and sky 
 Comming-le, while through cove and hamlet ring's 
 The fiery call whose echoes shall not die 
 While Eng-lish nerves vibrate to hear in every wind that blows 
 How Eng-lish hearts and Eng-lish hands can deal with Eng-land's foes. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 But while communing- thus with thee I think 
 
 But little of man's exploits, I am stirred 
 
 Like one allowed to stand upon the brink 
 
 Where life and death encounter and is heard 
 
 The sound of many waters; for, O Sea! 
 
 The finite mind beholds in thee a type 
 
 Of Highest Nature, that Immensity 
 
 Which only hath true Being-; as the ripe 
 And perfect fruit contains within itself fruit, flower, and tree 
 So all earth's elements may find their counterparts in thee. 
 
 Lvn. 
 
 As one who, g-azing- throug-h the Tuscan's'^^^ g'lass, 
 Discards the g-uag-e by which men measured God 
 When priests were potent and the untaug-ht mass 
 Took myths for verities, man's sounding- rod 
 Explores thy chambers and his mind, enlarged. 
 Is meeter for creation's scope, the plan 
 Divine with which the universe is charg-ed, 
 To manifest His glory who in man 
 Is seen incarnate and for whom the stars whose g-littering- ra.j5 
 Gleam nig-htly on thy breast perform their canticle of praise. 
 
 (21)The Armada. 
 (22)Galileo. 
 
32 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 LVIII. 
 The meteor dust of ag^es strews thy floor; 
 Proplasmic matter cleaves unto thy bed; 
 Thy teeming' billows break on every shore 
 With life redundant; in thy depths are bred 
 A myriad forms thou hast not yet revealed 
 To man's inquiring- eye; thy waters hold 
 Vast treasure chambers never yet unsealed, 
 A thousand cryptic marvels never told, 
 And innermost recesses where the g-reat sea serpent g-lides, 
 Sole relic of a time when no obstruction met thy tides. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Thy limpid shadows sparkle with the Hg-ht 
 
 Of all Golconda's iridescent g-ems; 
 
 Thy heaving" bosom trembles with its bright 
 
 Prolific phosphorescence; anadems 
 
 Of living" brilliants decorate thy brows; 
 
 Thy locks are lustrous where the Nereids play; 
 
 And Nature's thaumaturg-ic hand endows 
 
 The dweller in thy deepest caves, where day 
 Can find no entrance, with their own mysterious effluence, proof 
 That from no creature, g-reat or small, God's kindness stands aloof. 
 
 LX. 
 
 They called thee better than they knew of old 
 "Who named thee Ocean, for thy waters flow 
 Like niig-hty rivers and thy streams enfold 
 The earth, diffusing- blessing-s as they g-o 
 Westward surcharg-ed with healing- warmth or when, 
 Replete with vig-our, sweeping- from the poles; 
 The tropic breezes kiss thy lips and then 
 Renew their energ-y, like streng-thened souls 
 Who drain the welcome g-oblet on some well-foug-ht field where they 
 Have swung- the sword for liberty throug-hout the livelong- day. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 33 
 
 LXI. 
 I love thee, Ocean, for thou art the bed 
 Whereon from youth to ag-e my sires have slept 
 Lulled by thy melodies, and Freedom's head 
 Is pillowed on thy bosom; thou hast kept 
 Her home inviolate, the seag-irt isle 
 Whose hills are altars where her sacred flame 
 Burns brig-htly and shall wax in splendour while 
 Its jealous wardens, mindful of the fame 
 Of those who in the days of old were nourished on thy breast, 
 Shall brook no rival on the wave, the realm they love the best. 
 
 LXII, 
 
 And by thine ever-sounding" shore, O Sea! 
 Sleep those whom I have loved and loving- lost: 
 Within the chambers of my memory 
 Their voices blend with thine, and I accost 
 Their shadows in the g-loaming-, when the bridg-e 
 Is swung- across the narrow frith which parts 
 The nearer Time-shore from the misty ridg-e 
 Whose unremittent influence imparts 
 A chill to life like that which warns the sailor that some stark 
 Ice-wanderer from the arctic zone is drifting- near his barque. 
 
 LXIII. 
 They pass before me and I call their names; 
 I meet their g-lances, — some have pitying- eyes, 
 And some reproachful; one there is whose claims 
 Have challeng-ed retribution and whose cries 
 The Furies, hearing-, answered: g-rant, O God! 
 That this my expiation may atone; 
 For I have yielded to Thy chastening- rod 
 And born correction meekly; Thou hast known 
 The burthen of my penitence, grant, Father, that the tears 
 Thine eye hath seen may purg-e the g-uilt of boyhood's heedless years. 
 
LXIV. 
 
 loved in life! I call; O loved and lost! 
 Is there not one among- ye to rehearse, — 
 If haply they see clearer who have crossed 
 The Hateful river, — why the father's curse 
 Of pride or sensuous frenzy should convey 
 Inherent baseness to the spotless life, 
 
 Or stamp it slave to Passion ere its day 
 Of quickening- in the matrix, why the strife 
 With sins that lie in wait, the war that every soul must wage, 
 Anatocismic grows the more intense from age to age. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 1 call in vain, they answer not; I deem 
 
 At times they are but wraiths or soulless shades. 
 As unsubstantial as a morning dream. 
 Corporeal mists that disappear as fades 
 The haze that g-reets the sunrise. Sin is hell, 
 Whose depths nor men nor angels can disclose. 
 Whose springs united form a tainted well 
 Incongruous with the living stream which flows 
 Unsullied through the universe, that runs with love replete 
 From God to God until the round of goodness is complete. 
 
 LXVI. 
 Learn this, O man! thy secret sin will breed 
 Like microphytes, pervading all who draw 
 Their origin from thee. O woman! heed 
 The weighty lesson, the unerring- law 
 Which men have called Survival, — that the sum 
 Of each one's vices forms a heritage 
 Of sensuous imperfections that benumb 
 And blunt the soul and g-row from ag-e to age 
 Like some fell parasite that clings to some great forest tree, 
 So sin shall waste its victim's soul, and both shall cease to be. 
 
LXVII. 
 
 Thou whose grace hath quickened and upheld 
 The Maker and enabled him to bear 
 
 The breathing- of the Muses and to weld 
 And forg-e the glowing- numbers and declare 
 The story of man's nonag-e! with Thy name, 
 As spelled by mortals, I conclude this song-, 
 Unskilled to g-uess if on the tide of fame 
 Some kindly hap may place it with the strong- 
 And buoyant vessels that have launched upon the dang-erous sea 
 Since Eng-lish Caidmon hewed the keel for Milton's arg-osy. 
 
 IvXVIII. 
 Thine influence g-ives an impulse to the lyre 
 And tunes the poet's strain in every ag-e; 
 From Thee the prophet draws the sacred fire, 
 By Thee the sibyl reads the secret pag-e. 
 Parturient Time bring-s forth at Thy behest 
 Predestined instruments to work Thy will, — 
 Tyrants to scourg-e or ransomers whose best 
 Anointing- is affliction; these fulfil 
 
 Their function in unfolding- Thee, in Thee alone they dwell; 
 
 In every child of man the world beholds Immanuel. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Thus far this song- hath progressed; what its worth 
 
 1 know not, whether further than my streng-th 
 Can hold me I have ventured and the earth 
 
 Be fated to receive me when at leng-th 
 My flagging- wings miscarry. This I know 
 And own, O Father! that Thy loving hand 
 And gracious eye have led me from the low 
 Black depths of Disappointment: lo! I stand 
 Resigned yet hopeful that my verse may win a modest niche 
 Within the precincts of the fane whose heights it cannot reach. 
 
36 SONG OF THK AGES. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Howe'er it be, the verdict will be Thine, 
 For Thou art Lord of Judg-menls, and the g-ale 
 Of public praise or censure is divine 
 Alike for those who soar and those who fail. 
 From Thee, the Uncreated, comes the g-ift 
 Creative as an influx, and the voice 
 That hails the sing-er Poet is the swift 
 . Corroboration of Thy Spirit's choice. 
 Which falls as falls the thunderbolt to shun the adjusted rod. 
 And throws the minstrel's mantle on the limbs elect of God. 
 
 End of Book I. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
BOOK THK SECOND. 
 
 THE BRONZE AGE. 
 I. 
 
 Majestic sisters! once ag-ain I call: 
 Come, loftiest daug-hters of Mnemosyne! 
 From where Leibethron's silvery showers fall 
 And filled Pimplasa swells the symphon3^ 
 Bring- but an echo of the heavenly song-, 
 As heard by Zeus what time with solemn tread 
 Around his altar the melodious throng- 
 Intone the requiem of the g-odlike dead, 
 That we, the restless sons of toil, may catch the strains sublime, 
 And hear man's rhythmic footfalls strike the corridors of time. 
 
 II. 
 As throng-, the locusts see they come, they come, 
 The earth-born Aryans'^' from their pristine plains; 
 Two constant streams, as if impelled by some 
 Inspired vision of the wide domains 
 Awaiting- them beyond the mountain walls 
 Of Ural and of Taurus and the hig-h 
 Snow palaces*^^ where Indra has his halls 
 Whose aether-piercing- columns prop the sky; 
 Or pressed perchance by Mong-ol hordes, adeva fiends who g"ive 
 No sacrifices to the g-ods by whom the Ar^^as live. 
 
 III. 
 They come, the nation builders, frank and free, 
 The Xanthochroi'^', whose ej^es reflect the lig-ht 
 Of heaven's pure vault above them as the sea 
 Returns the lustre of a cloudless nig-lit. 
 They come, the fair-skinned wanderers, with feet 
 That turn not back while glory points before; 
 Their tramp is steady, like the waves that beat 
 And break with muffled music on the shore. 
 What barriers shall impede their march, the broad-browed race with mind 
 Expansive as the ocean's breast whose bounds they yet shall find? 
 
 (l)Arya, born of or possessing the earth (F. Max Mnller); in later Sanskrit, noble. 
 
 (2;Sanskrit hirn^ snow, and alaya, a dwelling--place. 
 
 (3)According- to Professor Huxley's line classification of mankind. 
 
IV. 
 
 i Westward they come, each man a Cadmus; these 
 
 Shall find Europa, and the g-ods shall lead 
 
 ! Harmonia to their couches; they shall seize 
 
 I And occupy for ever, and the seed 
 
 They sow shall be the drag"on's teeth, red war 
 
 The harvest of their reaping-; they shall sweep 
 
 The lands as with a besom, till the far 
 
 Twin isles shall know them and the mounts that keep 
 
 Their record of Alcmene's child '^', where thankful Time shall see 
 
 Their noblest issue g-uard the gates of the great Median Sea. 
 
 V. ■ 
 
 Through Khyber's rocky thoroughfare shall flow 
 
 The eastward currents, till they reach the plain 
 
 Made wealthy by the sacred rivers: lo! 
 
 The land of Holy Singers^^^ where the grain 
 
 Awaits the willing" sickle! They shall learn 
 
 To yoke the patient oxen, by whose aid, — 
 
 With subject Sudra service, — they shall turn 
 
 The rich alluvium, exercise repaid 
 
 A hundred-fold by Indra's grace who pours with lavish hand 
 
 Autumnal showers from his store to bless the thirsting land. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To venture and to labour and to pray, 
 
 This was their character; their minds enthroned 
 
 In spacious tenements where ample play 
 
 Is given the faculties; their eirdour toned 
 
 By sure control of reason; and their speech 
 
 Strong, flexible, and copious, such as might 
 
 Have sounded first in Paradise, as teach 
 
 Some old traditions, ere the awful night 
 
 Of sin from disobedience fell upon a shuddering world, 
 
 And Yimakhshaeta's*^^ golden age was into chaos hurled. 
 
 (4)The Pillars of Hercules— Gibraltar. 
 (5)Brahmarshidesha, the reg-ion of the Punjab. 
 
 (6)Yiiiiakhshaeta (Yinia) according- to the Zendavesta the first Aryan king-, who 
 reig-ned in the golden age. 
 
VII. 
 
 To venture: this their spirit shall impel 
 Them ever onward till their restless feet 
 Are planted on earth's confines and the swell 
 Of Ocean's uninvaded realm shall g^reet 
 Their vang-uard with defiance. Glory not, 
 Ye trumpeters of Neptune, in their stay; 
 Nor ye whose bridled fury fills the g-rot 
 Of iEolus with murmurs; lo! the day 
 Shall be when Neptune's self shall lift his placid head to see 
 Without rebuke their offspring share the empire of the sea. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To labour: even in their pristine home 
 'Tween Oxus and Jaxartes, — names no more 
 Remembered by the mongrel tribes that roam 
 The steppes, — the furnace fused the stubborn ore 
 And smiths first hammered metal; here the arts 
 Found crude but healthy nurture, here were born 
 The men of skill whose history imparts 
 To man his chief incentive; when the morn 
 Of the new era shall arise the theme the poet sings 
 Shall be the artist mind and hand instead of^priests.and kings. 
 
 IX. 
 To pray: at first to God, the One, the All, 
 Spirit Supreme by whom the world was made. 
 Thrice happy mortals could we now recall 
 The antique faith and be no more afraid 
 Of sanctuary idols! Burn thy tomes, 
 Theologaster, weary not the stars 
 With idle concepts where the fancy roams 
 From attribute to attribute; the bars 
 Are rig-id as relentless fate which keep thee shut within 
 Thine ectoderm; restrain thy pride! to picture God is sin. 
 
X. 
 
 Accursed craft that used the maker's myth 
 To work the slavery of the human mind! 
 That bent his subtile fancies as the smith 
 To make his imag-e hammers the refined 
 And shining" metal till he moulds a face 
 And fig-ure like his own, perchance with arm 
 Hypertrophied with labour! As we trace 
 The line to priest from poet half the charm 
 Is taken from the ancient lore, we drop the myths ag-hast, 
 And like some mitred clowns of old we turn iconoclast. 
 
 XI. 
 
 O ye who dwell within the classic shades 
 Where gentle Isis bends to meet the Thame, 
 Whose seal upon their unridged foreheads aids 
 The climbing adolescents when the flame 
 Of g-enius fails because the empty lamp 
 Of vulgar clay no subsidy receives! 
 Be watchful, lords of learning, that you stamp 
 No obsolescent oracle; the leaves 
 That autumn's fing-er turns to gold have had their day I ween. 
 No season's chang-e may give them life, no sun recall their green. 
 
 XII. 
 Thames, Tiber, Seine, and Gang-es! on your banks 
 The twice-born Aryans are being born ag-ain. 
 Once more the boding murmur stirs the ranks, 
 Once more the nations are being roused as when 
 Great Rudra<'' shakes the forest. Be ye wise, 
 Ye Brahmans, and your caste shall haply be 
 Now as of yore their leaders! see ye prize 
 The truth where'er it lead you; though ye see 
 Foundations totter hasten not, for novelty deceives. 
 Beware lest going to Jericho ye fall among the thieves. 
 
 ('«)Rudra, the Storm-god of the Rigveda. 
 
XIII. 
 
 Away with text and commentary till 
 Ye learn the primer of the threefold page, — 
 The ever-open volume where His will 
 God's hand recording- writes in every age. 
 The starry vault, the world, the human heart, — 
 Read these aright with unbeclouded eye 
 And mind unclogged with maxims; then impart 
 The truths ye gather freely; prophesy. 
 If moved, as bold interpreters, nor strive to square and trim 
 God's Word and Wisdom to the moulds of timeworn teraphim. 
 
 XIV. 
 O venerable masters! while ye pore 
 O'er old traditions lovingl}^ the minds 
 Ye led while in their pupillage may soar 
 Beyond tradition, and the faith which binds 
 Them to finality perchance may yield 
 To Truth's demands, as step by step men learn 
 A broader scripture everywhere revealed, 
 Which tells that Love Ineffable doth burn 
 With equal brightness unto all, the Bible where we trace 
 Impartiality divine that knows no favoured race. 
 
 XV. 
 
 O sacred Truth, thou sun of all tlie spheres! 
 Break through the clouds of Eld, direct thy bright 
 And piercing radiance where the dust of years , 
 In hall and quadrangle obscures the light. 
 Bid eye meet eye in candour; bid the weak 
 Be strong to spurn the fetters that corrode 
 And dwarf the intellect; bid Reason speak 
 Through lips that long have faltered; lift the load 
 Of paltry compromise, O Truth! that gown and hood may be 
 The symbols of a fellowship whose roots are laid in thee. 
 
XVI. 
 
 O Thou Mysterious One whose name I use 
 
 What time on bended knee I urge my soul 
 
 To converse with its Origin! excuse 
 
 The feeble faith that asks Thee to console 
 
 Yet lacks assurance. Through the mists of time 
 
 The oracles show dimly, and we hear 
 
 Thy g-entle voice in echoes; thy sublime 
 
 Surrender and oblation call the tear 
 To eyes that, like the Sadducees', with haughty scorn repel 
 Thy claim to be the Christ of God, the Hope of Israel. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 True Man and Brother! in my utmost need, 
 
 When surging billows break above my head, 
 
 When blasts from Tophet sway me as the reed 
 
 Is bent before the whirlwind, be my stead! 
 
 O'er the broad gulf of centuries Th}- hand. 
 
 Marked with the stigma of the worldling's hate. 
 
 Traces once more the scripture in the sand, 
 
 And points the wanderer to the mercy-gate. 
 Be this to me Thy gospel, Lord, the promise fixed and sure: 
 "Neither do I condemn thee child; depart and sin no more!" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 What pen, O Clio, wrote the fateful word 
 Which time confirming turned to prophecy? 
 What ear of man so favoured that it heard 
 The promise of the future, the decree 
 That Japheth's bounds should be enlarged, the tents 
 Of Shem become his dwelling*^ ? Gracious Muse, 
 Restore for me the crumbled battlements 
 Of old Confusion's tower, let me use 
 That coign of vantage while I gaze on Shinar's plain and trace 
 With fancy's eye the babbling source of nation, tribe, and race. 
 
 (S)"God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem; and 
 Canaan shall be his servant." Genesis IX. 27. 
 
XIX. 
 
 The wavering clouds are parted, and a breeze 
 From steep Niphates sweeps the affluent plain; 
 The doubt-mists scatter and the dreamer sees 
 The hopeless builders abdicate the vain 
 And futile enterprise: the childish lore, 
 The leg"ends g^athered at a mother's knee 
 From quaintest pencilling-s revive once more. 
 And with them half the ancient faith, — I see 
 Birs Nimrod's winding causeway, note each worker strive to reach 
 Some sympathetic group to claim the brotherhood of speech. 
 
 XX. 
 Reluctantly, with many a fond reg-ret 
 Lo! Mizraim's clans begin their pilgrimage 
 To Khem's far distant valley; they shall set 
 Their roots below the surface, and the page 
 Of human history shall be theirs till time 
 Has tried and found them wanting, yet their day 
 Shall be full glorious and their sun shall climb 
 To high meridian splendour, their decay 
 Shall last while empires wax and wane, and cause Oblivion's head^'-^' 
 To turn in wonder to the Sphinx as though old Time were dead. 
 
 XXI. 
 Unwilling nomads, God shall guide their feet 
 O'er mount and plain until their eager eyes 
 Shall see, be3'ond the narrow bridge where meet 
 Two continents, the mystic river rise. 
 There shall they find, on Khem's black soil, a home, 
 A fertile land, a land of brick and stone, 
 Concordant with their genius; and each nome 
 Shall be a human anthill, there alone 
 Shall man presume to cope with fate and raise with cunning hand 
 Knduring monuments to brave the whirlwind and the sand. 
 
 (9)"Time sadlj^ overconieth all thing's, and is now dominant and sitteth upon a 
 sphinx, and looketh unto Memphis and old Thebes, while his sister Oblivion re- 
 clineth semi-somneus on a pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making- puzzles of Ti- 
 tanian erections, and turning old glories into dreams." (Sir Thomas Browne.) 
 
46 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Vain hope! the death he dreaded Mizraira could 
 
 Nor curb nor conquer; even at his board 
 
 His mirth was overcast, the spectre stood 
 
 Between him and the winecup; as he poured 
 
 The red juice from the flag^on effig'ies 
 
 Arrayed in cerecloths met his daunted eye, 
 
 While hollow voices thundered, "Look on these! 
 
 Eat, drink, be merry, for thou too must die!"*^^' 
 Build, Mizraim, mansions for the dead, — the fruit of all thy toil 
 Shall be when peasant hands shall strew thy dust on foreig^n soil.^^^* 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The patriarch's curse that fell on Canaan's head 
 
 -Ere yet his thews were hardened fell on thee, 
 
 O Mizraim his brother! thou wast dead 
 
 In spirit, sunk in foul idolatry 
 
 While in thy pride of place the world was thine. 
 
 Corruption seized thee, and thy carious limbs 
 
 Were plung-ed in putrefaction as the swine 
 
 Roll g-rovelling- in the mire, and the whims 
 And filthy fancies of thine heart thy children deified 
 Until thy very leprosy was sacro-sanctified. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Pubescent purity, that stood amazed 
 
 At Nature's revelation, lost its blush 
 
 Of conscious chastity, thy hand erased 
 
 The bloom of innocence as one might crush 
 
 A rosebud ere it opened; and thy gods 
 
 Were misbeg-otten monsters, — strang^e that we, 
 
 Earth's later children, cherish still the frauds 
 
 The Nile mud fostered, make the blasphem}- 
 Of God-resisting- Typhon serve as manacles to bind 
 The limbs of Prog^ress and prolong- the slavery of the mind! 
 
 (lO)Herodotus, "Euterpe," 78. A somewhat g-hastly provocative to good fellow- 
 ship and an extreme insistence on the maxim, Ede^ bibe, hide, nulla est in morte 
 voluptas. 
 
 (11; Shiploads of mummies have been brought from Egypt and used as fertiliz- 
 ers in Evirope. 
 
XXV. 
 
 Mayhap the amercement of thy father's sin 
 Of g"uilty seeing- fell on thee; no g-limpse 
 Of Love Ineffable mig-ht fall within 
 Thine opaque vision blinded by the imps 
 And slime of Tophet. By thy conscious fears 
 The nations have been tainted: life for life/^^* — 
 Dark dog^ma of damnation! all the years 
 Of man's abandonment of God are rife 
 With Substitution's sig"hs and tears: accursed creed! thy dread 
 Persuading- wove the crown of thorns that pierced the Sinless Head! 
 
 XXVI. 
 Throug-h time's dark caverns still the echoes roll 
 Of David's bitter protest, of the cry 
 That rose to heaven from his ang-uished soul: 
 "Lord, I have sinned! why should my people die?" 
 The scapegoat's bones have whitened in the sand 
 And turned to dust with them whose sins it bore 
 Into the wilderness, and Mizraim's hand 
 Hath long- since lost its cunning-, yet we pour 
 The vials of the wrath of God on Calvary's Crucified, 
 And make His tender shoulders bear the burthen of our pride. 
 
 XXVII. 
 Creative Essence, whose hig-h attributes 
 Defy our finite standards, may Thy g-race 
 Condone the impious fiction that imputes 
 To Thee our motives! dissipate the base 
 And baneful doctrines by which men conceive 
 Thee as a cruel Apis-da-mon urged 
 To salve thine own prerog-atives; relieve 
 The human mind, throug-h ages whipped and scourged 
 By its own bugbears; spread Thy lig-ht, that all mankind may see 
 Man needs no scapegoat, God of Love, to make him one with Thee! 
 
 (12 Herodotus, "Euterpe," 39: compare Leviticus, XVI. 21, 22, for a borrowed 
 rite. For a more rational and humane belief see Micah, VI. 7, 8,— "Shall I g-ive 
 lUY firstborn, etc.?" 
 
48 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 In all incarnate let Thy Word and Life, — 
 True Son and Spirit, — dwell with us and lift 
 Our souls to hig-her levels; bid the strife 
 Of dubious oracles to cease; the g-ift 
 Of honest speech impart to all who bear 
 The messag-e of Thy Fatherhood, that they 
 Soil not their souls with sophistry nor wear 
 The vestments of the Pharisee; repay 
 The blood of all Thy martyrs, Lord, may every drop they shed 
 In patient witness fall in streams of kindness on our headl 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Enlig-hten Thou our reason, purg-e the dross 
 That dulls the intellect, that so man's thought 
 May rise above all partial views and cross 
 The Alps that thwart our vision! cancel aught 
 That tends to idol worship, love of self, 
 Indulg'ence, daintiness, and lust of praise; 
 To nobler issues than the race for pelf 
 Inspire our children to devote their days! 
 As Thou Thyself art One, O God, the primal, perfect Good, 
 Bid poet, priest, and craftsman join in kindly brotherhood! 
 
 XXX. 
 
 'Twas thus, O Mizraim, that thy day was spent, 
 The earth was thine and thou wast of the earth; 
 Thy children served the fleshpots and they bent 
 Their backs to carnal burthens; from thy birth 
 Thy heart was brutish and thy g-enius turned 
 To subterranean idols, thou didst sit 
 By thine own choice while 3-et thy taper burned 
 In fullest splendour b}^ the awful pit^^-^' 
 Whose sides are lined with sepulchres, the graves where nations fell 
 Who sought like thee their paradise within the womb of hell. 
 
 a3)Ezekiel, XXXII. 23. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 Eg"ypt! the nurse of letters and of law, 
 Where social order, stated g-overnment. 
 And commerce had their orig-in; that saw 
 The arts instructive g-ain development! 
 Thy relics are a Bible where we read. 
 As day by day unrolls its palimpsest, 
 The causes of thy ruin, — thou didst lead 
 Thyself to thy undoing- when the pest 
 Of priestly usurpation passed unheeded through the land 
 And Superstition's loathsome brood upheld the tyrant's hand. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thou gav'st us g^ods, O Eg"ypt, but the spark. 
 The vital spark, of liberty ne'er shone 
 Upon their altars, and the holy ark 
 Of Freedom came not nigh thee, thou alone 
 Didst disregard the tree whose roots have crept 
 Adown the mountains, and whose leaves are stored 
 With healing- for the nations who have kept 
 Their hearts untainted; and the sacred sword 
 That patriot freemen love to draw was never forged in thee. 
 Where twice ten thousand cities slept in servile lethargy. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Two warring- elements benumbed thy soul, — 
 The negro's passion and the Shemite's gloom; 
 The he-goat's promptings nothing could control. 
 Corruption's terrors drove thee to the tomb. 
 Conquered and conquering by turns, thy blood 
 Has mingled with the Nile's black ooze and spread 
 A crimson mantle o'er the mystic flood. 
 As when Jehovah's foundling gave the dread 
 Foretoken to the tyrant, when the smitten waters bore 
 Through Pathros and through Mazor's plain the putrefying- g-ore. 
 
XXXIV. 
 
 All nations met within thy g-ates, — thy peer 
 In art and arms, great Asshur, and thy wise 
 Chaldaean cong-ener, with those that steer 
 Their ships to Tarshish and the land that lies 
 Fast anchored in the ocean: when the tooth 
 Of time hath marred thy beauty, then, O Khem! 
 In that far isle shall man renew his youth 
 And speak of thee as of a thrice-told dream. 
 Rock tomb and pyramid and sphinx shall tell their tale to these, 
 And Hebrew pilg-rims stand amazed before dead Rameses.'^*) 
 
 XXXV. 
 The lapidary's S3^mbols still abide, 
 Enduring- censors of humanity; 
 Birs Nimrod's ruins chasten human pride, 
 The pyramids rebuke our vanity. 
 O cares of men^^', frivolity of king's! 
 A g-ranite mountain could not g-uard the bones 
 Of haug-hty Khufu, and oppression bring"s 
 Its condemnation; lo! the toilers' groans, 
 The sig-hs, the sweat, the sullenness of outrag-ed manhood call 
 To God for justice till the hands of retribution fall. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 It is the curse of power that it tends 
 To exaltation, Pharaohs, Caesars feed 
 With flatteries their frailties; Heaven sends 
 No blessing- when it g-luts the miser's greed. 
 The anointed tyrant deems his rig-ht divine, 
 His cring-ing- courtiers bend as to a god; 
 Sleek Dives struts throug^h factory or mine, 
 While toilworn wag-elings tremble at his nod. 
 Unskilled to keep the g-olden mean, huckster and king- deride 
 The patient shoulders that support their luxury and pride. 
 
 (14)Raineses II. His mummy was unwrapped by Maspero, June 1, 1886. 
 (15) C curas hominiini! O quant jun est in rebus inane! (Persius.) 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 O Christ, Thou Carpenter of Nazareth! 
 Inspire Thy ministers that they may live 
 Thy life of self-denial! then Thy death 
 Shall prove man's resurrection and shall g-ive 
 A crown to Labour! kindle in their breasts 
 The ardour of Thy sympathy and break 
 Asunder custom's shackles! hurl the tests 
 And caste-marks to oblivion! bid them make 
 Their Master their Kxemplar that in very deed the world 
 May see the banner of man's rig-hts b}^ priestly hands unfurled! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 Gethsemane, the mount, the sepulchre. 
 All these we know; in homily and hymn 
 The tears, the tree, the cerements all recur, 
 But not the humble workshop with its grim 
 Diurnal trag-edy of sordid toil. 
 Bent back and stiffened muscles, grimy hand 
 And calloused fingers, — too uncouth a foil 
 For chasuble and mitre! Lo! they stand. 
 The frank and sturdy labourers ye fain would win, outside 
 The fanes where Christians emphasize their luxury and pride! 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Hail, glorious day when adventitious gauds 
 From loom and needle stand no more as signs 
 Of worth in man or woman, when the odds 
 Of rank or fortune mark no more the lines 
 Of social merit! Priest and poet then. 
 Untrammelled by forged fetters, shall conspire 
 , To animate and bless the sons of men; 
 
 The voice of Nature speaking- througfh the lyre 
 Shall call to Pisgah's heights while they who serve the altar stand 
 To consecrate the hosts that march toward the Promised Land. 
 
XL. 
 
 Phoenicia, home of commerce! by the oath 
 Thy grandson^^^) swore to Philip I invoke 
 The heavenly sisters halting- as if loath 
 To light upon thy seaboard, for the yoke 
 The trafficker bears lightly is a clog 
 To higher impulse, and the art divine 
 But seldom sends its search-lig-ht through the fog 
 That followed thine eclipse; the Philistine, 
 Thy gallant neighbour, Israel's scourge, has left a loftier name, 
 His warworn buckler rightly hangs in the bright halls of fame. 
 
 XLI. 
 By Sun and Moon, Earth, Mead, and River! by 
 Thine own great highway, the historic Sea! 
 I exorcise thy g-enius and descry 
 The sister cities with their galaxy 
 Of banked and beaked sea-castles, quinquereme 
 And argosy, equipped alike for war 
 And commerce, and I note the steady stream 
 That bring-s the wealth of Sheba and the far 
 Peninsula, the caravans whose fragrant freight shall rise 
 Where sacrificial censers swing in incense to the skies. 
 
 XLII. 
 Lo! hive-like Tyre issues from the flood. 
 As rose Ashtarte in her blushing shell. 
 A thousand caldrons hold the purple blood 
 Of the pressed mollusc, street and factory tell 
 Of industry and fullness; wealth waxed fat'^'^' 
 And reared its g^arners hig-her than the walls 
 Of royal palaces, while Mammon sat 
 With luxury and lewdness in her halls. 
 And dark-eyed captives from the Isles of Tin in wonder stood 
 To see Ashtarte's priests exact the tithe of maidenhood. 
 
 (16)Hannibal the Carthaginian: Polybius, VII. 2, 9. 
 
 (17)"0/./?of ayav TvaxvvOeig. 
 
XLIII. 
 From Calpe's Strait to Cyprian Salamis 
 The wheeling" seag^ulls flap their ceaseless wings 
 In concert with the oar-blades as they kiss 
 Their mirrored shadows, while the prorate^^^* sings 
 His matin hymn to Baal as they sweep, 
 Proud argosies rich-freighted, past each ness 
 And castled headland where the wardens keep 
 Their constant seawatch; and the rowers press 
 In eager rivalry to win the prize they most desire, 
 And claim the fleet's pre-eminence for Sidon or for Tyre. 
 
 XLIV. 
 Bright sea, whereto the world's great empires came 
 And laved their feet through ages! who shall say 
 What changes yet await thee, who shall claim 
 Thy lordship when the clouds have passed away 
 Which gather now about thee? Haply fate 
 May hold in store some pebble that shall smite 
 The dread colossus even as the great 
 Goliath sunk sore smitten when the white 
 Brook boulder fell, or as the huge dream-image was o'erthrown 
 Whose feet incongruous turned to dust beneath the unhewn stone. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The tyrant's hands, that shiver while they hold 
 The rod of empire on the Neva's banks, 
 May seize Byzantium and the Horn of Gold, 
 While Slav and Finn and Kalmuck dress their ranks 
 On either side Propontis. Then, great sea. 
 The Romanofl^ shall dip his knout and chains 
 In thy blue waters, but they shall not free 
 Or thong or fetter from the shameful stains 
 Of outraged Poland's noblest blood; parturient time shall bring 
 The Slav himself to Freedom's shrine to hear the joy bells ring. 
 
 (18)7r/;c.j/K/r//r, or -/»,)/'"''<■. the lookout on the forecastle. 
 
54 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 XLVI. 
 Build up, ye silent workers of the deep, 
 A rosy rampart! suffer, too, thy bed, 
 O sea, to lift its bosom that the steep 
 Primaeval causeway may appear that led 
 Huge Libyan mammals to the hither shore, — 
 The river-horse and that g^reat tusker whose 
 Kffodial relics wondering- peasants tore 
 With straining- spade and mattock from the ooze 
 Of old Helorus, — burst, ye fires of Vulcan, burst in g-lee 
 When Freedom's offspring- prove too weak to keep the Midland Sea! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Thou hast the keys, Britannia, in thy hand; 
 The lion rock of Tarik, it is thine: 
 And on Valetta's knig-htly towers stand 
 The emblems of thine empire. Ivo! the sig-n 
 Of man's redemption, battletorn yet brig-ht, 
 St. Georg-e's cross, flies bravely in the breeze! 
 Look well, Britannia, that no foreig-n wig-ht 
 Remove the standard or assume the keys. 
 Let Rooke and Cla3'ton's, Eliott's fame inspire thy soul to g-uard 
 The azure, sun-kissed thoroug-hfare of which thou art the ward! 
 
 XLVIII. 
 Phoenicia in her noonday prime beg-at 
 A g-reater daughter, Carthage, and her feet 
 She planted where the queenly Dido sat 
 With royal state in Juno's porch to greet 
 The wandering Trojan, — lo! the Lovely One, 
 Erato, comes unbidden, and the twain, 
 Her statelier sisters, smile in unison 
 Their hesitating welcome, as if fain 
 To spare their votary's tender breast, for well they ken that he 
 Who gazes on Krato's charms transfers his loyalty. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 55 
 
 XLIX. 
 With g-entle voice that like a limpid brook 
 Glides smoothly on she weaves her subtle spell. 
 I see once more the Tyrian sisters look 
 To where the ready g-alleys meet the swell. 
 The unbrailed sail hangs loosely, at the stern 
 I note the pilg-rim father, in his ear 
 The cry of duty echoes; Love ma}' burn 
 In vain his perfumed torches, when that clear 
 Alarm rings o'er the bounding sea, though lulled in Beauty's arms, 
 The true man alwa3'S wakes and sets his face against her charms. 
 
 L. 
 
 O Lovel}' One! though time's auturgic loom 
 Has scattered threads of silver o'er his head. 
 His heart will throb susceptive till the tomb 
 Shall ope its portals to the poet dead! 
 The Mantuan Master saw with equal eye 
 And even pulses, — spare thou me, O Muse! 
 Who looks within thy crystal globe may die 
 With bootless longing, yet who may refuse 
 Such divination at th}^ call, thou loveliest of the Nine, 
 And hope to win the threshold where the lute is held divine? 
 
 LI. 
 
 A marble chamber opening to the sea 
 Through lofty arches; from the capitals 
 Of slender columns hangs a canopy 
 Of gold embroidered purple; on the walls 
 The maidens weep for Adon. All that Tyre 
 Can show of skillful workmanship is here; 
 Pride, wealth, love, luxury, and art conspire 
 To grace the haunt Elisa holds most dear. 
 For this is Dido's solitude where first she learned to trace 
 And read the signs of ripening love in the great wanderer's face. 
 
56 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 UI. 
 A g-olden tripod stands beside her couch 
 Of purple-pillowed cedar, — yestereve 
 An altar where two loving" hearts did vouch 
 A faith whose fervour nothing- could bereave. 
 Filled flagon, g"oblet, philtre, many a sweet 
 Provocative to pleasure,— now, alas! 
 The mute remembrancers of him whose feet 
 With welcome music never more shall pass 
 Within the threshold of this shrine, of him whose voice could thrill 
 The widowed breast, whose glance subdue a queen's imperious will. 
 
 LIII. 
 The evening" star g"leams like a cr3^stal tear 
 Upon the cheek of Beauty in the west; 
 Ashtarte's silver crescent follows near. 
 Like some lone galley lighted to its rest. 
 Their blended radiance falls on her who kneels 
 Within the marble chamber and whose eyes 
 In anguish turn where every eye appeals 
 Since the first sufferer vainly soug"ht the skies. 
 Could mortal loveliness prevail to turn the tide of fate, 
 Deserted Dido, thou would'st not be thus disconsolate! 
 
 LIV. 
 Her raven tresses stream all unconnned. 
 Save for an azure fillet edged with gold, 
 Below her swelling flexures as the wind 
 Trails the black storm-cloud o'er the snowy wold. 
 Her veil of g"ossamer neglected clings, — 
 A cobweb dew-besprinkled, — just beneath 
 Her heaving- breast's twin cupolas and flings 
 Athwart her glowing loveliness a wreath 
 Diaphanous as morning rime whose glittering crystals bear 
 Augmented greenness to the mead and perfume to the air. 
 
^ ^ 
 
 SONG OF THE AGES. 57 
 
 LV. 
 
 One hand is raised imploring-lj, as tlioug-h 
 
 To claim an instant succour from the mild, 
 
 Chaste love-star's eye that sees her secret woe; 
 
 The other held as if to still the wild 
 
 Commotion in her bosom; on her limbs, 
 
 Whose tapering" fullness prompts to worship, hing-e 
 
 Two g-leaming- anklets, but their lustre dims 
 
 Beside the living- marble's rosy tinge. 
 O recreant one! return and find a king-dom to thy hand 
 Whose present bliss may well requite the lapsed Lavinian land! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 He comes not back: O breaking heart be still! 
 
 While time endures woman shall endure 
 
 The grief that knows no anodyne until 
 
 Death's soothing- fing-ers work the perfect cure. 
 
 Unhappy Dido! in that white-cliffed isle, 
 
 Whereto th}' subjects ply the labouring- oaf, 
 
 A fairer Helen'^'-^' than the one whose smile 
 
 Beg-uiled the faithless Dardan shall deplore 
 In coming- years the cruel fate that leaves the rustic free 
 To live and love while princes bear a burthen none may see. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Through dusky cloisters of the Past the low 
 
 And solemn strains of human sorrow g-lide. 
 
 Like some g-reat organ sounding- sweet and slow 
 
 Throug-h nave and transept at the eventide. 
 
 The dirg-e of love that stood beside the g-rave 
 
 Of its own happiness and hid the tear; 
 
 Of hopes that had no fruitag-e, joys that g-ave 
 
 A moment's g-low and perished; of the sere 
 And withered friendships that have turned to dust when fortune fled, — 
 The endless coronach that time sits crooning o'er the dead. 
 
 (lO)^?/^^, Afnsa, tcndisf 
 
 "The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, 
 Is only Helena. To her, my lord. 
 Was I betroth'd ere I saw Herniia." 
 Let no profane hand disinter the secret (hidden in the text) of two roj^al hearts, 
 one of which shall beat no more for ever. 
 
CARMEN MORTALE. 
 
 Warrior! sheathe thy dinted sword, 
 
 Lay thy buckler down. 
 'Gainst the fierce invading- horde 
 Thou thy blood hast freely poured, — 
 
 Claim the victor's crown! 
 Cross thy hands upon thy breast, 
 Shut thine eyes and take thy rest! 
 
 Pilot! strike thy tattered sail, 
 
 Make thy mooring-s fast. 
 Nor rocks to lee nor gfulf nor g-ale 
 Shall cause thy rug-g-ed cheek to pale. 
 
 Now thy voyage is past. 
 Safe upon the eternal shore. 
 Time and tide shall vex no more! 
 
 Mother! lay that g-olden head 
 
 Gently on its bier. 
 Could thy g"rief recall the dead, 
 Would'st thou venture then to shed 
 
 One disturbing- tear? 
 Weep not for the lambs that dwell 
 In the meads of asphodel! 
 
 Maiden! twine thy wreath anew: 
 
 Lo! the orang-e bloom 
 Wilting- frost hath fingered, rue. 
 Cypress, and the poisoned yew 
 
 Best beseem the tomb. 
 Dream not of thy lover's vows,* 
 Death hath claimed thee for his spouse! 
 
SONG OF THE ACxKS. " 59 
 
 Open thy breast, sweet mother! 
 
 Earth, open wide thy breast 
 When the nig"ht shall fall and another 
 
 Of thy nursling-s sink to rest, 
 To awake on the g-lad to-morrow, 
 
 When the Sun of Suns shall rise 
 On eyes that have seen thy sorrow. 
 
 Ears that have heard thy cries! 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The wooded crest of Gilead's wall is stirred 
 By seaborn zephyrs ready to expire; 
 I hear the lowing" of a rhig-hty herd 
 Whose hoofs have churned the Jabbok ford to mire. 
 Beyond the brook's perennial flow I spy 
 A halting- pilg-rim; as his heavy feet 
 Approach the shelving- watershed the sky 
 O'er Ammon's waste is lig-htened, and I g-reet 
 With fancy's eye the Prince of God, whose seed like him shall strive 
 Throug-hout oppression's long-est nig-ht and wrestling- shall survive. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Castanean-eyed, with visag-e like the keen 
 Sea-eag-le brooding- on some beetling- cliff, 
 Lo! Jacob the Supplanter! in his mien 
 See resolution mixed with care, as if 
 He doubted Esau's welcome. Well he knows 
 That here g-lib tong-ue and ready wit may fail; 
 The cozener's craft is feebleness when foes 
 Foreg-ather in the desert; what avail 
 The musty cobwebs men term laws, pandects and pundits when 
 Their victims seize the sword and call their birthrig-ht back asfain? 
 
60 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 IvX. 
 
 Shepherd and goatherd, g-o thy way in peace! 
 Thy brother will not harm thee; thou and he 
 Are types whose counteraction shall not cease 
 While man the unit deems his gain can be 
 A righteous spur and sanction. Noble souls 
 There shall be in all ages, Ksaus who 
 Shall scorn the sordid publican whose tolls 
 Are sweat begrimed and bloody: these, the few, 
 Shall be the leaven that shall work till the whole lump shall rise 
 With ordered energy and share an equal enterprise. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 'Tis thine, O Wrestler! thine to strive with God 
 And make of Him thy partner, lulled in sleep 
 While all things answer to thy hope; the rod 
 Of great Jehovah's anger thou shalt keep 
 Abeyant to thy purpose; when thy life 
 Hangs wavering in the balance and the fell 
 Floods lift their voice against thee, lo! the strife 
 Shall then be holy, God and Israel 
 Shall smite the tents of Amalek, of Ammon, Gebal, Tyre, 
 And make them like a potter's wheel or wood before the fire-''^^^^ 
 
 LXH. 
 Jehovah! By the magic of that name 
 A nomad horde shall win a place among 
 The commonwealth of nations and the flame 
 Of unity be nourished and the tongue 
 Of lisping infants in all lands shall tell 
 His praises and a subject world shall sing 
 The songs first heard in Zion;^how they swell. 
 Those lyric offerings of the poet king-, 
 Above the wailing of the world, those sacred strains that blend 
 The God of Kadesh with the One whose mercies have no end! 
 
 (20)Psalm LXXXIII, 13, 14. 
 
LXIII. 
 
 Be this thy g"lorj, Israel, that thou 
 
 Didst raise thy tribal deity by slow 
 
 And toilsome stag-es to the mountain's brow 
 
 Where pure Isaiah felt the vivid g-low 
 
 Of Lig"ht Ineffable, the flash that shone 
 > On that lone prophet by the Zuyder Zee 
 
 With fuller radiance and revealed the throne 
 
 Of Him whose name and being- are To Be! 
 Be this thy g"lory, Israel, thou learned'st to read arig-ht 
 The sacred tetragrammaton, Substance, Word, Wisdom, Lig"ht! 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 And we, the heirs of time, for whom the earth 
 Shall don daedalian beauties when the sun 
 Of the new g-olden ag-e shall bring- to birth 
 Fresh forms and forces, — when we too have won 
 The Pisg-ah heig-hts and view with eager eyes 
 The summer-land our portion stretching- broad 
 Beyond our vision, we shall recog-nise 
 With thankful hearts the sacred hill where God 
 Preserved the consecrated flame to lig-ht the welkin when 
 United faith and science shed their unveiled beams on men. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 O harp of Zion! while the world shall last 
 
 Thy heavenly melody shall strike the ear 
 
 Beyond all other music and shall cast 
 
 Its wondrous gifts of healing- far and near. 
 
 Solace and hope and impulse, this shall be 
 
 The prelude to the universal song- 
 
 Of men and ang-els through eternity. 
 
 Of slaves made free, of feeble souls made strong-. 
 The isles shall hear the strains sublime when Israel's house shall fail 
 And Jacob's seed shall scattered be like chaff before the gale. 
 
LXVI. 
 
 Lord of Life! O Quickening- Spirit! Thou 
 First Emanation from the Uncreate! 
 Divine Hypostasis who dost endow 
 
 All thing-s distinctive that may demonstrate 
 The God in Process! with a poet's zeal 
 
 1 laud and mag-nify Thy g-lorious name^^i' 
 In g-rateful rapture that Thou didst reveal 
 The Father first to poets and proclaim 
 
 In artless hymns transcending- art His mercy and His mig-ht 
 From whom all things proceed, the g-oal in whom all things unite! 
 
 LXVII. 
 Inspired by Thee, O Lord of Life! the tones 
 Of Zion's harp sound resonant and clear. 
 And rise above the valley of dry bones 
 Where outcast Israel sheds the exile's tear. 
 As in Kaffraria's loam the delver brings 
 To lig-ht some brilliant for a monarch's crest 
 Or as the phoenix preens her g-olden wings 
 In desert sands and builds her frag-rant nest 
 Where none may see her sacrifice, so through the awful g-loom 
 Of wayward Israel's g-uilt and fall that harp adorns his tomb. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Can these bones live? Deg-raded, sordid, cold. 
 The Gentile's parasite and eke his scorn, 
 Sweeping- his market while they clip his g-old, 
 Can these bones live and Jewry rise new-born? 
 Lip-loyal to all princes, true to none; 
 Gath'ring- in fields where other men have strowed 
 The seeds of peace and progress; quick to shun 
 With alien craft the sacred dut}' owed 
 By freemen when their country calls; can such revive to dwell 
 Where David's thirty stood to guard the mount of Israel? 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 63 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Can these bones live? Yes, when from Jacob's stock 
 One shoot shall rise whose manly heart shall be 
 Warm with ancestral energ"ies to mock 
 The recreant maxim of the Sadducee'^^' 
 That Israel hath no waking-. Then the voice 
 The prophet heard by Chebar shall proclaim 
 A people's resurrection to rejoice 
 The house so long- left mourning and reclaim 
 Her barren wastes, rebuild her walls, and raise on Zion's heig-ht 
 A nobler temple wherein Jew and Gentile shall unite. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Unite in hig-hest worship at the shrine 
 Of that g-reat Fatherhood where all are priests 
 To dedicate the bread and bless the wine, 
 And bid the nations to the solemn feasts. 
 Speed Thou the day, O Quickener! when the Jew 
 Shall lig-ht the torch of liberty and stand. 
 No mercenary warrior, with the true 
 Knig-hts banneret who hold with steady hand 
 Aloft the standard of our rig-hts, the labarum to lead 
 The army of man's social hope to vanquish crime and g-reed! 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Steed of the Morning-! fold thy strenuous wing-s. 
 And gentl}^ lig-ht on 3'onder peak whose g-rey 
 And furrowed forehead from the cloud-belt springes 
 Like some steep islet wreathed in ocean's spra}'! 
 Lig-htly descend, O Peg-asus! and see 
 Thy mien be tractable; strike not thy hoof 
 To force forbidden fountains; suffer me, 
 A timorous trespasser, to stand aloof 
 From thee Medusa-sprung-! and muse; for this alone I dare 
 To stand upon Parnassus hill and breathe its hallowed air. 
 
 (22)"To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee." Byron, Childe Harold. 
 
LXXII. 
 As in some Thracian gardens where the rose 
 O'ertasks the g"ale with fragrance, every wind 
 Comes incense-laden hitherward and blows 
 Ambrosial burthens to oppress the mind. 
 The marshall'd memories cluster o'er my head 
 And baffle distribution, and I hear 
 A murmur like the voices of the dead 
 Which Dreamland zephyrs bring- to mortal ear. 
 "Bend low," they whisper, "child of earth, upon the altar floor 
 Where Genius comes to sacrifice from every clime and shore!" 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Oh! might I reach to such high meed that I 
 Were numbered with the acolytes to stand 
 A server at that altar ere I die 
 And wear the vestments of that radiant band! 
 To know that as the swelling chorus swept 
 From age to age one note of mine would last, — 
 What then were exile or the tears long wept 
 For love vows broken and for friendships past? 
 Though sterile life's meridian hour, the gloaming Oh! how sweet, 
 Dear Land of Refuge! could I lay one laurel at thy feet! 
 
 LXXIV. 
 O Thou whose purpose passes human thought 
 Save that it calls man to renounce, or yield 
 His hopes at their fruition! Thou hast taught 
 My spirit acquiescence and hast steeled 
 My breast to disappointment, and I bear 
 The ordeal meekly even as I hide 
 The dart whose lesion nothing can repair. 
 Or press the thorn Thou gavest to my side. 
 One fluttering hope I still have kept, one feeble, glimmering ray 
 Has pierced the world's disdain and cheered my solitary way. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 65 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 For this I brave the Loxian's wrath and set 
 My faltering- feet where earth's Immortals trod; 
 Thoug-h vain the vision, end it not nor yet 
 Dispel the dream or quench the hope, O God! 
 Vain thoug-h it be, it is my all, I g-ave 
 To one fond wish the worship of long- years, 
 Man's friendship, love of woman, — let the g-rave 
 That hides the dreamer hide the dreamer's tears! 
 While life remains permit the thought that haply Fame may g-ive 
 One modest nook within her halls where this my song- may live! 
 
 LXXVI. 
 Here, from Parnassus, once again I spy 
 The world-inheritors, earth-born, whose course 
 Is on the necks of nations; from the high 
 And many-ridg-ed Olympus to the source 
 Of old Eurotas, mount and vale and plain 
 Confess the title of their leaf-shaped brands 
 And spears of tempered metal, where the stain 
 Impairs the lustre of the bronze and stands 
 A silent witness to the might of Hellen's sons who bore 
 Unwitting-ly from kindred hands the notched Pelasg-ian shore. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 On well-walled Tir3'ns' rocky heig-ht the eyes 
 Of young- Alcides turn toward the sea. 
 While nereids whisper of the isle that lies 
 Beyond Cythera, where Pasiphae 
 Taught Art to outrag-e Nature. Everywhere 
 The soil breeds heroes and the seed is set 
 Whose shoots expanding- to the sun shall bear 
 Such fruitag-e as Ig-drasil never yet 
 Put forth in bud or frag-rant bloom, the tree of life shall rise 
 Like some g-reat eucalypt until its crown shall reach the skies. 
 
66 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Wide, bold, and free as morning- g-ales that sing- 
 When rosy Eos hails the Cyclades, 
 Exultant manhood bends its thews to spring- 
 As some young- athlete bows his limber knees 
 Before the threshold^^S) when the stadium waits 
 The signal for the running-, or as when 
 The wrestler crouches and anticipates 
 The g-rip on thig-h or buttock: these the men 
 Of Hellas in her mewing- youth in whom with added worth 
 The pristine Aryan soul attains another, kindlier birth. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 A kindlier birth, because their deeds were sung- 
 By those whose strains were potent as the lyre 
 Of Orpheus when the g-ates of Hades swung- 
 And softened Pluto g^ranted his desire. 
 Not mine, O Muse! to emulate their song-s 
 With tong-ue less flexile and with soul less free; 
 Be mine the modest motive that belong-s 
 To humbler themes and minor minstrelsy; 
 Therewith content, so may I rove on Helicon and fill 
 My heart with music from the myths that haunt the muses' hill! 
 
 LXXX. 
 That music still can charm the strictest ear 
 Beyond all other melody! as when 
 The shepherd boy of Ascra'^** caught the clear 
 Melodious whispers of his native glen. 
 Breathing-s divine that all unbidden spring- 
 From wood and stream and the blue sky above; 
 The voice of Nature bidding- poets sing-, 
 The Voice Creative bidding- mortals love. 
 Divinest harmonies like those Ayr's g-entle song-ster stole 
 From the brown lavrock's nest to cheer the durance of his soul. 
 
 :23)Threshold, i.e., the stone bar which formed the starting--point in the footrace. 
 At Olympia "the starting-point and the g-oal in the Stadion were marked by lime- 
 stone thresholds." (Prof. Jebb in EncYC. Brit.) 
 
 (24)The poet Hesiod. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 67 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 From birth till death enswathed in falsehood, we 
 Know not the joy of living-, every lie 
 We cherish adds its quota to the sea 
 Whose ebon waves reflected foul the sky. 
 Lies of the school, the forum, and the mart, 
 The jug-g-ling- sophistr}- of those who steer 
 The ship of Progfress by an antique chart, 
 And hug- the quicksands in unmanly fear 
 Of that wide ocean tempting- man to search its breast and seize 
 With hero-soul the isles of hope, the new Hesperides. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Not thus thy children, Hellas, in thy youth; 
 Their red blood danced with vig-our and they saw 
 With childlike sing-leness of eye the truth 
 That human happiness is Heaven's law. 
 They joyed in living-, from the ample store 
 Of their vitality they peopled earth, — 
 The stream, the forest, and the sounding- shore, — 
 With forms of richest fancy, at whose birth 
 The muses were the midwives who first taug-ht the bard to sing- 
 And ordered that in fancy's realm the poet should be king-. 
 
 Lxxxni. 
 
 And from the treasure chamber of his mind 
 The poet chose appellatives and named 
 The brig-ht creations, and to each assig-ned 
 His place and function; thus compactly framed 
 There rose the pantheon; the g-oodly halls 
 Whose mazy courts the diligent may tread 
 And solve the riddles of the sculptured walls. 
 And learn the deathless wisdom of the dead, 
 The fables where great Verulam with kindred soul could read 
 The Nature-mysteries that lay beneath the Pag-an's creed. 
 
68 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 A living- creed to him who loves the hills 
 And. meads where piping- Pan may still be heard; 
 A joyous creed to him whose bosom thrills 
 When Philomela wakes her evening- bird. 
 The creed of Poesy, the art divine; 
 Of veiled Philosophy that still must strive 
 To draw the diamond from the secret mine; 
 The creed whose winsome symbols still survive 
 As iridescent gems that g-leara in realms that never knew 
 The spell that fancy wove around the brig-ht Olympian crew. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Fain would I linger in thy lap, fair Greece! 
 Anear the Shining Rocks in Delphi's glen; 
 There would I seek the navel-stone, nor cease 
 Until the oracles should speak again. 
 For Pan still lives, and they who hailed him dead. 
 What time with impious hands they spoiled the shrine 
 Of Phoebus, time hath tested and instead 
 Of bread they render stones and gall for wine. 
 While craving millions ask to see the Christ that was to come, 
 And failing curse the stars because the oracles are dumb. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The bitter cry of stunted souls, the wild 
 Ebullience of the helot, cannot these 
 Be lulled to sleep and man be reconciled 
 To live with Nature in harmonious ease? 
 Descend, O Pythian! as of old and bring 
 The bow thy ready fingers found at birth! 
 Draw the notched arrow to the tensive string. 
 And slay the dragons that lay waste the earth. 
 Corruption, luxury, and greed, the ethics of the mart. 
 That weld a golden shackle on the promptings of the heart! 
 
LXXXVII. 
 
 Descend, O Delian! once ag-ain and g-uide, 
 As erstwhile Cretan merchantmen were led, 
 These later traders to Parnassus' side 
 And lay thy mitra on each drooping- head! 
 So shall they rise thy priests, to immolate 
 The misbegotten prog^eny, the base 
 Herd of false prophets that usurp the gate 
 And sing for drachmas in the marketplace. 
 So Competition's curse shall fail and man reg-enerate see 
 The welfare of the hive impart contentment to the bee. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 So may thy spirit, mountain land! return 
 And wake in us the Spartan hardihood. 
 The Attic ardour till our bosoms burn. 
 The Theban patriots' lofty brotherhood! 
 That we whose thoug^hts are moulded to the speech 
 To which all tong-ues pay tribute, may advance 
 The frontiers of man's commonwealth and reach 
 The broad savannahs where the views enhance 
 Our aspirations and the wide horizons merg-e in dim 
 Sug-g-estions of new realms that lie beyond the circle's rim. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Demeter then shall see her bounteous gifts 
 Consigned to righteous stewards, nor abused 
 As pawns to justify the g-amester's shifts; 
 The wealth of mine and factory diffused 
 No harpy's claws shall grapple; Labor then 
 Shall yield to Arrogance nor tithe nor toll; 
 But white-robed Peace shall come to live with men, 
 And love collective animate the whole: 
 Benevolence shall spurn the bounds of mountain, river, sea. 
 And kindly nations strive to win the world's hegemony. 
 
70 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 xc. 
 
 And Art shall sit ag-ain at Nature's feet 
 To learn how simple are the mysteries; 
 And Music, Letters, Sculpture, Learning- meet 
 Like sister children at their mother's knees. 
 Beauty shall flourish, every land shall own 
 Its thaumaturg-ic ag-ency, and this 
 Shall turn each temple to a Parthenon, 
 And g^ive each city an Acropolis 
 Wherein, obedient to the skill of some great master's hand, 
 Chryselephantine types of Love and Victory shall stand. 
 
 XCI. 
 And Liberty, the jewel of man's soul. 
 Without which life were putid, shall assume 
 A more than Grecian lustre and the roll 
 Of Aryan kinsmen shall ag^ain resume 
 The epic broken when the fateful pen 
 Within the fing-ers of Demosthenes 
 Wrote Freedom's farewell to the sons of men. 
 And suppliant Hellas clasped the despot's knees. 
 Then one g-reat Parliament shall hold the leg-ates of the world, 
 Where multitudes shall throng- to see the union flag- unfurled. 
 
 XCII. 
 And lo! as in the hero-ag-e, the state 
 Of man shall then be simple: save that he 
 Must yield to that inexorable fate 
 Which none may hinder yet which all foresee, 
 His happiness shall be complete; — alas! 
 This pain supreme nor time nor love allays! 
 The trickling- sand must dwindle in the g-lass. 
 And living- is but dying-; when the days 
 Draw near to lay the burthen down the retrospective eye 
 Perceives man's misery consists in knowing- he must die. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 7l 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Well spoke the sophist/^^^all that is is poured 
 
 In endless flux, the spectre stands beside 
 
 The nuptial couch, the cradle, and the board, 
 
 A silent homilist restraining- pride! 
 
 The earth is but man's sepulchre<26)^ d^q whole 
 
 Great world of man may be his monument 
 
 If he but follow with unselfish soul 
 
 The path heroic where no sentiment 
 Obscures duty, if upon the g-ood old Roman tree 
 Of civic truth he g-raft the shoot of Christian chivalry. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Lo! where the yellow Tiber sweeps the feet 
 
 Of Palatinus and the Aventine! 
 
 Pause for an instant and survey the seat 
 
 Where the three clans'^'^^ shall gather and combine 
 
 Td found the city. This is Rome, where Force 
 
 Shall fence itself with statute and decree, 
 
 And the world's lie be sanctified; the source 
 
 Whence iron-hoofed and harsh Leg^ality 
 Shall propag-ate its counterfeits, and Politics which spreads 
 The maxim that the highest good consists in counting- heads. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Patres, and Plebes, side by side they grew, 
 
 One Roman people, 3'et how wide apart 
 
 In all that makes for brotherhood! the few 
 
 Born to consume and rule; the major part 
 
 Mere villeins, clods pertaining- to the soil. 
 
 Winning by piecemeal every human right; 
 
 At first content to eat and sleep and toil 
 
 And read tlreir franchise by their patrons' lig-ht! 
 A patient multitude well-pleased by slow deg-rees to rise, 
 And, like all patient multitudes, the slaves of Compromise! 
 
 (25'Protag-oras. 
 
 (26 Thucydides, IL 43: 'AvcV"""' ■}«/' f7r;0«)'wy nana }?/ rdijior, k. t. '/,. 
 
 (27)The Ramnes, Titles, and Ivuceres. "■Ramnenses ab Roinulo, ab T. Tatio Ti- 
 tienses appellati: Lucerum nominis et orlginis caicsa incerta est.'' Ivivy, I. 13. Yet 
 there can be little doubt that these ai-e primitive tribal names. 
 
XCVI. 
 
 Yet theirs the virtues by which states increase, — 
 
 Simplicity and truth and steadfast zeal 
 
 For home and country. When the hands of Greece 
 
 Grow faint with strug'g'ling" shall Rome's commonweal, 
 
 Like some great crucible, commix and blend 
 
 Competing- elements and haply draw 
 
 All subject peoples to one certain end, 
 
 One common principle, the reign of law. 
 And perishing shall still bequeath emollients to assuage 
 The grim and gor}^ truculence of the fierce iron age. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Leave we, twin Sisters, ye who are my guides! 
 
 These cinder heaps of Pluto where the rude 
 
 Autochthones beheld the ocean's tides 
 
 Retreat with horrid hissing unsubdued 
 
 Though neighbouring- hills discharged their fiery rain. 
 
 And earth affrighted tore her rugged breast! 
 
 Forsaking these, press onward in the train 
 
 Of the great vanguard hastening to the west. 
 Where Partholan's'^^) bronze sword doth point to Inver Sceine's head, 
 Or where the blue-eyed Yavana turn north with eager tread !<29* 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 First of the Keltai! draw your barques to shore. 
 
 For this is Inisfail, the Isle of Fate! 
 
 Unstep the mast and ship the g-uiding- oar, 
 
 Behold! the Woodmen*^^^ resolutely wait 
 
 Within their bosky fastnesses; they bend 
 
 The supple bow and poise the flinty spear; 
 
 Wild freedom's martyrs driven to defend 
 
 Their last as3dum; further flight is here 
 Beyond their wishes, step by step the arms of bronze have hurled 
 Their relics westward till they touch the confines of the world. 
 
 (28)Partholan, according- to legend the leader of the Pelasgic Kelts, who first en- 
 tered Ireland at Inver Sceine, hodie Bantry Bay or the Kenmare estuary. 
 (29)Yavana, the Young Folks, ancestors of the Germans. 
 (30)The forest tribes or Iberic aborig-ines of Europe. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 73 
 
 XCIX. 
 North, east, and west, by loug-h and hill and glen, 
 Firbolg", Nemedian, tribe on tribe they spread, 
 Danann, Fomorian, and the later men, 
 Galam's Milesians with the king-ly tread! 
 Their blood to-day flows nimbly througfh the veins 
 Of stalwart world-subduers, lo! the spark 
 That lig-hted Heremon to the fertile plains 
 Where g-entle Barrow g-lides toward the dark 
 Child of Slieve Bloom's Silurian breast g-leams faintly j^et still g-leams 
 Where the worn Maker exiled sits and mourns his youthful dreams! 
 
 C. 
 
 And Kymric blood is likewise his, perchance 
 
 Of some Cornubian Druid-bard who g^ave 
 
 His unarmed bosom to the Roman lance, 
 
 And fell a martyr where he might not save. 
 
 Keltic in all, the song- I sing- shall bear 
 
 No taint of lucre; lacking- though the fire 
 
 Of loftier lays, my modest verse shall wear 
 
 No badge of service to disgrace the lyre. 
 Be mine the Vates' part and lot to prophesy and sing 
 Such soothfast words as Merlin sang before Tintagel's king! 
 
 CI. 
 
 Or he whose wizardry recalled the bloom 
 
 Of old Romance and gentle trouverie. 
 
 Whose loyal passion raised on Hallam's tomb 
 
 A stately altar to Mnemosyne. 
 
 A noble shrine where the chaste soul may learn 
 
 That sacrifice is triumph, loss is gain; 
 
 Where day and night the snowy tapers burn, 
 
 And cloistered arches echo the refrain 
 At evensong when anthems stir the banners like a breath, 
 And Nunc Dimittis is the heart's calm welcome unto Death. 
 
CII. 
 
 Old Time, tliou art a dullard! could'st thou not, 
 While sparing- cromlechs, menhirs, monoliths. 
 Have saved the mystic lore the Druids taug-ht, 
 Retained the wisdom hidden in their myths? 
 Then haply we had heard the tale of him. 
 Mysterious Hesus, whom the white-robed throng- 
 Adored in forest temples vast and dim 
 With pomp and sacrifice and sacred song^; 
 Then mig'ht the Druid's soul awake, then mig-ht his voice once more 
 Instruct us that man treads the paths his feet have trod before. 
 
 CHI. 
 
 What say you, brothers, ye for whom the sun 
 
 Hang-s tottering- o'er the western precipice? 
 
 What, brethren, if the course so nearly run 
 
 Be, as it were, a trial heat, and this 
 
 Approaching- sunset but a call to sleep 
 
 Until the morrow when, — anointed, nude, 
 
 And lithe, — ye reach the threshold, fit to leap 
 
 Toward the barrier with your streng-th renewed? 
 Perchance with some faint memories of the preceding- day, 
 Premonishments of stumbling--blocks that thwart the narrow way? 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Could captured Proteus, told to prophesy 
 
 Concerrftng- man's hereafter, e'er reveal 
 
 A g-reater mystery than those which lie 
 
 Around us unreg-arded? Why appeal 
 
 For proofs to spheres beyond our mortal ken. 
 
 When kindly Nature spreads an open pag-e, 
 
 And bids us read God's messag-e unto men 
 
 Where life perennial never comes of ag-e? 
 Dyes the medusa's crystal bell and bids each pulp confirm 
 The truth of immortality by tentacle and g-erm?'^!) 
 
 (31)This thought is, in a measure, borrowed from an article by Sir Edwin Ar- 
 nold, contributed, I thinkt to the Fortnightly Review some years ag-o. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 75 
 
 cv. 
 
 Ah, brothers! could we stand beside the loom 
 Where lives are woven and take up the thread, 
 And know the pattern of the past, the tomb 
 Would be a welcome shelter to the dead! 
 For then the soul, re-clothed with flesh, would rise 
 On stepping"-stones of former faults^^^^ and each 
 New birth were certain prog-ress till the prize 
 Of sinless being- were within man's reach; 
 And then, blest thoug^ht! its cycle filled, the ransomed soul would fall 
 A crystal drop in Heaven's sea and God be all in all. 
 
 CVI. 
 Gaelic or Kymric, lo! their kindred blood 
 Found common evolution. Happy isles! 
 Where Famine came not thoug^h men understood 
 Nor finance nor taxation, nor the wiles 
 Of those who buy in cheapest marts and sell 
 In dearest, for whose needs the world has made 
 Its later ethics and abolished Hell 
 And every dogma that could hamper trade! 
 Thrice happy clansmen! who had need of little wealth beside 
 The flocks and herds that grazed the meads or roamed the mountain side! 
 
 CVII. 
 Oh! could some Poet-Druid now rehearse 
 The simple blessedness of far-off times. 
 How would men linger o'er the antique verse 
 And bid the modern poet turn his rimes 
 To loftier purpose than a roundelay, — 
 To sing of justice with a voice as clear 
 As that of some Milesian Ollamh Sai'^^', 
 Whose counsels king's and fathers loved to hear. 
 Some white-haired Brehon whom his clan beheld with secret awe 
 Blend Filidecht and Fenechas, prophetic song- and law! 
 
 (32i"That men may rise on steppingf-stones 
 
 Of their dead selves to higher thing-s." In Memoriani. 
 
 (33)011amh (pronounced Ollaiiv) Sai, nearly equivalent to Doctor of Philosophy: 
 ?i.xvoUamh fill was a fully graduated poet (or vates); the/ene or lawyers as a distinct 
 school seem not to have preceded Christianity. 
 
CVIII. 
 
 As with the hardy Yavana, the slow 
 And steadfast Germans whose determined course 
 From Bactria to the Baltic seemed the flow 
 Of some great ocean-seeker from its source, — 
 The kilted Gael never bent the neck 
 To wear the collar of imperial Rome: 
 Oh age of bronze and liberty! we reck 
 No more of Freedom than the name; her home 
 Hath vanished from our stagnant fens to some secluded hold 
 Where Lybian pig-mies still evade the Christian's g-reed for g-old. 
 
 CIX. 
 For us no more the life of wood and stream, 
 Thoug-h Nature woo us to her kindly arms! 
 For us, alas! the clank of wheel and beam, 
 With reek of furnace, where the pallid swarms 
 Sleep, eat, and labour, labour, eat, and sleep. 
 And hu^ the falsehood that the world has g-rown 
 Akin to Paradise when bread is cheap 
 And every dog" contented gnaws his bone! 
 Where fleshly fools o'erheated rush to marriag-e beds and breed, 
 Like rodents in some crowded cag"e, a hasty, nerveless seed! 
 
 ex. 
 
 All-Father! g-ive me back my lowly cot 
 Mid Appalachian solitudes or g-uide 
 My wearied spirit to some lonely spot. 
 Some other Pitcairn, hidden in the wide 
 Pacific's bosom, rather than prolong- 
 This travail where dull Helots kiss the rod! 
 Or bid the PEOPLK rouse them and be strong- 
 To fetter Faction! Consecrate, O God! 
 The new apostles of Thy Christ, let fiery tong-ues descend, 
 With Pentecostal potency bid social trespass end! 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 77 
 
 CXI. 
 
 And you, apostles of the great crusade! 
 
 Gird up your loins, for lo! the hour is nig-h! 
 
 Corruption trembles, Falsehood stands dismayed, 
 
 The labarum of promise fills the sky! 
 
 "By this sig-n conquer!" Lo! the Church of Christ, 
 
 Her anassthesia ended, breaks the chain 
 
 That Constantine y-forged and Henry spliced, 
 
 And God's free Spirit ranges earth again 
 To bid the Saxon loafward turn the ploughshare to the land, 
 And generous Kelts again display their pristine open hand!^*^ 
 
 cxn. 
 
 The hour is nigh: Oh! well for those whose lot 
 'Twill be to sojourn in that blithesome world. 
 And share its happiness when time hath wroug-ht 
 The harvest now a-ripening and unfurled 
 The Aryan's charter! Peace and plenty then. 
 With equal rights and active brotherhood. 
 And sweet simplicity shall bring* to men 
 The antique joy of living- with the good 
 
 Enhanced by knowledge rightly used, when Science shall employ 
 
 Her touchstone in the crucible to purge it from alloy. 
 
 cxni. 
 
 To thee, great land! whereto my homeless heart 
 Was drawn what time, like Noah's dove, I flew 
 From seagirt Albion, could the Maker's art 
 Unseal the tomb and open to the view 
 Thy buried mysteries, then would I sing- 
 
 A Past more ancient haply than the birth ' 
 
 Of Partholan or Heber or the king 
 Who learned by hunting- to subdue the earth, 
 Nimrod, the first to demonstrate the bitter truth that might 
 Transcends all other claims and prove that force dictates the rig-ht! 
 
 (34)The title lord is said to come from hlaford, — i. e., hlaf-weard, or bread-keep- 
 er. From the lr\s,\\flaith, a tribal king-, comes ^X^o flaitheamhtiil, or open-handed 
 hospitalitj'. 
 
CXIV. 
 Then at my bidding- would the Muse disclose 
 The tale of that lost race whose monuments 
 Mig-ht hide a buried nation, or of those 
 Whose obelisks and sculptured pediments 
 And glyphs and pyramids alike defy 
 Time's fretful tooth and man's researches where 
 Palenque's, Copan's, Uxraal's walls stand high 
 Above the later forests; or declare 
 
 From what primaeval founts Votan and Manco Capac drew 
 
 The calendar of Mexico, the tithings of Peru. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 The age of bronze o'erlapsthe iron age 
 
 On Anahuac's causeway, where the fierce 
 
 Pursuing Aztecs strive with vengeful rage 
 
 To merit Huitzil's*"^^^ favour; lo! thej^ pierce 
 
 The hauberk and the morion and hurl 
 
 Their flinty javelins 'gainst the tempered steel; 
 
 Stone, bronze, and iron in a fiery whirl 
 
 Of blood and terror make their last appeal 
 To war's arbitrament, the while the teocallis flow 
 With gore where priests propitiate the gods of Mexico. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 Andlo! Christ's cross becomes once more the sign 
 
 Of retribution; proud Tenochtitlan 
 
 Must drain the goblet where the deadly wine 
 
 Of righteous judgment is prepared for man! 
 
 Let loose the hell-dogs! as when Carthage paid 
 
 Her awful forfeit, or as when the doom 
 
 Pronounced against Jehovah's temple made 
 
 Jerusalem a Golgotha and tomb! 
 Where Tophet's fiends held jubilee do Thou, O righteous God! 
 Pour out the vials of Thy wrath and wield Thy chastening rod! 
 
 (35)Huitzilopochtli, the Mars of the Aztec pantheon. The allusion in the text is 
 to the famous retreat of the Spaniards from the city. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 79 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 From Vilcanota's slopes the reedy shore 
 
 Of Titicaca sparkles in the sun, 
 
 And Vilcamayu's rapid currents pour 
 
 A silver tribute to the Amazon. 
 
 Land of the Incas! cross and shrine in thee 
 
 Are but as dwarfed exotics, for thou art 
 
 Thyself an altar where the spheres may see 
 
 The mig-hty mother, Nature, lift her heart 
 To Him whose Thoug^ht first gave her life, where peak and torrent raise 
 Their/;/ Excelsis Gloria! and swell their Maker's praise. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Three hundred times have Cuzco's sons bewailed 
 
 And Caxamarca's maidens yearly wept 
 
 The fateful day when Athualpa^^^'failed 
 
 And the great Sun-Lord's rig-hteous veng-eance slept. 
 
 Three hundred years of patience, yet the soul 
 
 Of old Peru survives the Inca's loss. 
 
 And Manco Capac's doctrines still control 
 
 A race constrained to bear the Christian's cross. 
 O Christ! where dark Pizarro's sword put Thee to open shame 
 Oppression's bitter memories still cluster round Thy name! 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 But here, where God's g-reat mountain clusters rise. 
 Peak over peak in one unbroken chain. 
 Where Earth's perfervent furnace heats the skies. 
 And cloud-crowned chimneys hurl their fiery rain, 
 The g-rowths of Kg'ypt or of Palestine, — 
 Though nursed in Europe for a thousand years, — 
 Seem puny nurslings; where the Hand Divine 
 Withholds encouragement and Nature rears 
 A temple to the Unknown God and leaves the portal wide 
 She builds no transepts for the myths that wait on human pride. 
 
 iSSiAtahualpa, the last independent Inca, barbarously murdered Aug-ust 29, 1533. 
 
80 SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 Perched on the poop of caravel and barque, 
 When Genoese or Briton left the shore 
 To find a world or refug^e, stood the dark 
 Apollyon of the nations; swift and sure 
 Was Superstition's prog-ress, like the fell 
 Disease the turbaned pilgrim bears abroad 
 From the g-reat mosque of Mecca and the well 
 Of Zamzam and the stone where Ishmael trod. 
 And lo! the hellborn twins, Despair and Bigotry, released. 
 Gave Plymouth Rock and Mexico to presbyter and priest! 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 Unsightly demon! but for thee the world 
 Had long been blest: thou causest man to shrink, 
 A drivelling dotard fearing to be hurled 
 Through shades Tartarean when he nears the brink 
 Of Death's dark river! we are all thy slaves, 
 O Superstition! and the dredal Earth 
 Is septic with the odours of her graves. 
 While phantom shrouds envelope us from birth. 
 Our very mirth is overcast with fear, we frisk and play 
 Like sacrificial victims urged to frolic while they may. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 The Aryan surplus, landless and oppressed, 
 . Thy constellation tempted o'er the foam. 
 Great Land of Refug-e! in thine ample breast 
 The homeless ones have found a kindly home, 
 And thine the duty that thou canst not shun, 
 And thine the guerdon of the enterprise, — 
 To blend the discrete elements in one. 
 To see the Phoenix plume her wings and rise 
 On widespread pinions higher than her regal parent went 
 The ichor from whose wounds first gave the nestling nourishment. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 81 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 What thoug-h the lurid and malefic star 
 
 Whose baleful lig-ht was kindled with the flame 
 
 Of this my earthly being- from its far 
 
 i5^^thereal mooring-s scintillates the same 
 
 Wan presages to this new hemisphere, — 
 
 A ghastly nimbus constant to my head? 
 
 Thoug-h friends forsake me and though ties more dear 
 
 Than friendship's bonds are ruptured as a thread, 
 Or withered in the chilling frost of failure, not to thee 
 Be blame, great land whose golden hope allured me o'er the sea! 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 A golden hope, yet not the hope of gold. 
 
 Drove me to seek thy hospitable arms; 
 
 My yearning spirit, weary of the old 
 
 Time-buttressed cheats, and tempted by the charms 
 
 Of Nature and of Freedom, turned to thee. 
 
 Nor recked of let and hindrance; — lo! the cot 
 
 My hands have builded other eyes shall see 
 
 And other feet shall rove the lawn I boug-ht 
 From old Silvanus by my toil, while I reg-retful roam 
 A lonely exile shorn of strength to seek another home! 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 But yesterday the painted savag-e stood 
 Where now I stand, and saw with doubtful eye 
 The daring Norman*^'''* venture down the flood 
 Or marked Loyola's messenger float by. 
 On either hand the sea-like prairies spread 
 A broad expanse intact of spade or ploug-h, 
 Save where some unknown barrow hid the dead 
 Of unremembered nations, and where now 
 The human tide has risen high; to-day the fertile plain 
 Where once the gray wolf chased the deer stands rich with ripening- 
 grain. 
 
 (3'7)Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle: "lyoyola's niesseng-er," Jacques Mar- 
 quette, of the Society of Jesus. 
 
cxxvi; 
 
 Forbid it, Heaven! that this heritag-e 
 Should fall to prodig-als or knaves betray! 
 Be this the theatre whose spacious stag-e 
 Shall show the climax of the long--drawn play 
 Of man's redinteg^ration. Lo! mine eyes 
 Are dazzled with the vision, for I see 
 The commonwealth of nations take its rise 
 And hear the music of a world made free! 
 I see the prison doors unbarred, and Crime and dark Despair 
 Forsake their haunts like unearthed moles and breathe a purer air! 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 Arise, imperial virg-in of the west! 
 Arise and break the bands of ancient wrong" 
 That odious hands have braided o'er thy breast. 
 Before Corruption's trammels wax too strong"! 
 The patched and timeworn raiment of dead creeds 
 And systems atrophied while thou wast yet 
 An artless suckling- cannot fit thy needs 
 Now that thy lissom limbs are firmly set 
 And thou canst wield Athena's spear and, conscious of thy mig-ht. 
 In white-armed majesty prepare to vindicate the rig"ht. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 Thou art a debtor to the waiting" world, 
 Whose yearning" g"aze has never veered from thee 
 Since thy g"reat mart3'r's loyal hands unfurled 
 Redemption's charter to a race made free. 
 Advance thine seg"is and a million brands 
 Shall flash responsive to thy battle call: 
 "lo Triumphe!" and the sordid bands 
 Shall flee for refugee to the donjon wall 
 Where Vested Interest holds his court, the citadel whose stones, 
 Cemented by a people's blood, are reared on human bones. 
 
SONG OF THE AGES. 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 Draw close the leaguer! bid the trumpet sound! 
 
 Mark how the frowning turrets sway and reel 
 
 When twice a million footsteps beat the ground 
 
 Where Freedom's warriors storm the grim Bastille! 
 
 Brief time for righteous judgment! this their hold 
 
 Shall be the caitiffs' sepulchre, a sign 
 
 For future generations when the mould 
 
 Shall gather on the ruins and the kine 
 Shall crop the long, lush grass and turn their deep mysterious ej^es 
 To where some relic-hunting sage his spade and mattock plies. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Lo! where Urania waits upon thy star, 
 America! to free thy horoscope 
 From evil occultations: naught shall mar 
 Thy natal promise, harbinger of hope 
 To all the nations! for thou art the sure 
 Pledge of the coming age when Love and Truth 
 Shall form a golden bridge from shore to shore, 
 And Man regain the lusty strength of youth. 
 God's benison is on thy head, the blessing of thy birth 
 Shall follow thee till thou shalt see redemption come to earth! 
 
 End of Book 1 1. 
 
ADDITIONAL NOTES. 
 
 Pag-e 26. — "Episteton," anything that can be scientifically demonstrated: that 
 
 which is a subject of science. 
 Page 34. — -"Anatocismic," i. e., by compound interest. 
 Page 54. — "Build itp, etc.," the "silent worker" being the corallimn rubrum, the 
 
 beautiful red coral of the Mediterranean. — "Effodial relics," such as 
 
 those of elephas antiquus, elephas ineridionalis, and of still existing 
 
 African types, have often been found in Sicily. 
 Page 55. — "The Mantuan Master," — Virgil. 
 Page 61. — "Tetragranimaton," the four letters of the Hebrew Yahve (Jehovah), 
 
 the I Am, or Creator. 
 
 i ERRATUM: 
 
 ! On page 27, stanza xlv., line 6. 
 
 For "Though" read "Through." 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON, 
 
 AN INQUIRY. 
 
 Ergo alte vestig-a oculis, et rite, repertum, 
 
 Carpe manu: namque ipse volens facilisque sequetur, 
 
 Si te fata vocant. 
 
 [ALneid, VI, 14S-14J.) 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 AN INQUIRY. 
 
 [Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), the boy-poet, — the most precocious and the 
 greatest genius of the eighteenth century, — committed suicide in an obscure lodg- 
 ing in Ivondon on the 24th of August, 1770. "The best of his works, both in prose 
 and verse, require no allowance to be made for the immature years of their author, 
 when comparing him with the ablest of his contemporaries. Yet he was writing 
 spirited satires at ten, and he produced some of the finest of his antique verse be- 
 fore he was sixteen years of age." (Professor Daniel Wilson, in Ency. Brit.) His 
 stor^' is the most pathetic and saddening in the mournful annals of literature.] 
 
 S^lve, 6 Tt (hi yEvtaHai fa ml' lieni\ a^ur/xavov aTTorphjini avOpomLi' .... tx^iaTi/ 
 i)t' oiVrvn l-ar) ruv h' hvftpi'nrntai ahrij, -n?h/xi (ppnvrnvra, /n/thvoc; uparhn'.'^ 
 
 (Herodotus, Calliope, XVI.) 
 
 I. 
 
 "Thou hast put out his g-lory:" lo! the psalm 
 
 Throug-h Canyng-'s aisles went rolling- like the cry 
 
 Of souls o'erburdened with life's mysteries 
 
 That winter eve; and I, a pilgrim, bowed 
 
 My head in acquiescence. Then ag-ain 
 
 Hig-h o'er the org-an's g-rounded swell I heard 
 
 That plaint continued while it told of one 
 
 Whose days of youth were shortened, and whose life 
 
 Was wrecked like some fair pinnace ere the cliffs 
 
 Of lonel}^ Lundy bid the voyag-er 
 
 Take one last look at Eng-land. Then for me 
 
 The g-ates of Memory were unbarred, the while 
 
 The white-robed preacher spoke his platitudes 
 
 Of God and mercy, and of life the g-ift 
 
 Bestowed that each mig^ht in his special sphere 
 
 Attest the Giver's g-oodness and aug-ment 
 
 The Hallelujah Chorus of the world. 
 
 Perchance the theme was threadbare, stale, or trite, 
 
 *"0 Friend! that which is ordained of God it is impossible for man to avert. . . 
 . . . .and the most grievous of sorrows tomen is to have knowledge of many things 
 yet be able to overcome none." (Speech of the Persian soldier to Thersander at 
 the banquet before the battle of Platasa.) 
 
88 THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 As themes are wont to be howe'er men strive 
 
 To weave anew anachronistic threads; 
 
 Perchance my soul was in its rebel mood, 
 
 Disposed to crvH and to criticise, 
 
 Disposed perchance to question the decree 
 
 That, ere another moon should wax and wane, 
 
 Would urg-e me exiled from my native land. 
 
 For I was born rebellious and the hot, 
 
 Fierce blood of untamed sires filled my veins; 
 
 Of those who in the stirring- times of old 
 
 Had held the Norman robber to his watch 
 
 And coward mailcoat nig-htly in the Pale; 
 
 Of those who led Kilmainham's shaven monks 
 
 Full many a merry dance what time they swept 
 
 The prior's cellars and the prior's board. 
 
 And seasoned foreig^n dainties with the rude 
 
 And keen Milesian jest; of those who wroug-ht 
 
 Unpitying- havoc on that awful day 
 
 In Cullen's Wood, ere yet the Easter hymn 
 
 Had lost its echo, while the Bristol men. 
 
 Their wives and children, kept their holiday, 
 
 And piped and feasted in the fragrant glades, 
 
 Regfardless of the cruel ring- that drew — 
 
 Black Monday's* doomsters — nearer and more near. 
 
 Thus, while the parson's prosy platitudes 
 Fell like the drowsy hum of swarming- bees 
 Upon my ears at evensong-, m^^ mind 
 Disdained the beaten turnpike where the wheels 
 Of that well-greased Erastian coach rolled on 
 In optimistic comfort, and I dared. 
 Before St. Mary Redcliffe's altar stone. 
 To ask Omnipotence its Reason Why! 
 
 *Black Monday — March 30, 1209, when 500 men (beside women and children) of 
 an English colony from Bristol were killed at Cullen's Wood, Countj' Wicklow, hj 
 the united septs of the O'Byrnes and O'Tooles, a deed unexpiated throug-h six cen- 
 turies of misfortune to the innocent inheritors of the wrongdoers' blood. 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON. 89 
 
 II. 
 
 The cosmos is a mirror wherein God 
 Perceives Himself, and thoug-h the human mind 
 Shrinks back exhausted— like some fledHine- lark 
 First venturing- to pierce the upper air — 
 When asked to contemplate a universe 
 Alike without an orig-in or end, 
 Yet none the less this Proteus-thing- whose course 
 Is God's Procession, known alone to Him, 
 Hath been from Everlasting- and shall be 
 The endless medium of His consciousness. 
 And every soul of man is drawn from out 
 The Universal Self, that so the One 
 Great Soul, concentred in each limited 
 And finite member of an infinite 
 Prog-ression, may exhaust experience. 
 Transmuting- matter everywhere to mind 
 By subtlest alchemy where Function fills 
 And heats the furnace and assimilates 
 Object with subject and g-ives birth to Thoug-ht. 
 Ag-e follows ag-e, and type succeeds to type. 
 But what has been shall never more resume 
 Its erstwhile form without variety 
 Or shade of difference; just as in some g-reat 
 Baronial hall the curious seeker finds 
 The lineaments of some old cavalier 
 Who foug-ht at Naseby or on Marston Moor, 
 Or wore his ruffles in our Virg-in's court. 
 And gazing- on some later picture marks 
 At once the likeness and discrepancy. 
 For Nature's end is prog-ress and she bring-s 
 Some innovation with her every turn. 
 Obedient to His will for whom she stands 
 The ready proplasra to fix His thoug-ht. 
 
 Shall God repent Him of the thing- He made 
 When time and conflict prove it all unfit 
 
90 THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 To bear the standard or to stand in line? 
 
 Or, as he''' deemed whose lofty strain was used 
 
 To justify the order of the world, 
 
 Is all the evil that we see and feel — 
 
 The tooth carnivorous that rends and tears 
 
 The tender doe's warm flesh; the cruel beak 
 
 That stains the blossom where the mavis sung- 
 
 With blood drops gushing- from the song-ster's throat; 
 
 The whirling cloud that turns the western plain, 
 
 But now the scene of industry and peace, 
 
 Into a charnel chamber; or the dull 
 
 And muffled throb that calls the miner's wife 
 
 In wide-eyed agony to where the reek 
 
 Of the black pit-mouth marks the miner's grave; 
 
 Or in the lazar house what time the knife 
 
 And blade serrated lop his limbs away 
 
 Who drugged in mercy knows nor loss nor pain; 
 
 Or where the mother lays the flaxen head 
 
 Of the stilled prattler to her torpid breast 
 
 And in that moment dies a million deaths; 
 
 Or where the Poet, holding death aloof 
 
 By one strong- purpose, sings his little song, 
 
 Perchance to reach no other ear than his, 
 
 Perchance to sound a requiem o'er his bier; — 
 
 Is all this world-pain "universal good," 
 
 Unknown as pain to that Intelligence 
 
 To whom all Nature is an open book 
 
 Wherein His memoranda are inscribed? 
 
 Doth God not know it when the sparrow falls? 
 
 Doth He not hear him when the poor man cries? 
 
 Or when in some lone chamber Sleep descends 
 
 Through subtile vapours of mandragora 
 
 On one who, waking, found the world a hell 
 
 Of frustrate hope; or when, with hands outspread. 
 
 The victim of man's passions and the 'wild 
 
 ""'Alexander Pope in the "Essay on Man." 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON. 91 
 
 Defier of his social lies leaps forth 
 
 To where the kindly current whispers peace 
 
 And promised cleansing-, think ye that the Eye 
 
 Beholding- these hath no more sympathy 
 
 Than comes to one who with reg-ardless foot 
 
 Hath crushed some freig-hted ant that crossed his path? 
 
 III. 
 
 Such questioning- is all too hig-h for me, 
 And feeling- is a sorry base whereon 
 To rear an altar to the Unknown God. 
 And I am sick to loathing- of the cant 
 Men call Philosophy, the endless war 
 Of simple thoug-hts made formidable by 
 The quack's device of poorly-mortised words 
 Of Hellenizing- tyros in whose track 
 The dictionary maker g-roans and g-leans 
 . And daily adds a page to Eng-land's tong-ue. 
 Like to some tired truant whose best years, 
 Were spent in bootless wandering-, who bring-s 
 Himself at last to visit the old home 
 In hope of rest for his declining- years. 
 And who discovers that the petty burg- 
 Hath lost the witchery that memory kept 
 Moss-shrouded in his time of pilg-rimag-e; 
 E'en so I turn me to the simple creed 
 That in my callow youth I stood to speak. 
 Boxed snugly up in the old transept's pew, 
 What time the surpliced vicar bent his head 
 In solemn fealty to the eastern wall. 
 I turn thereto as hoping- that the charm 
 Of whilome faith can be restored to me. 
 That haply I, like Naaman of old, 
 Retaining- knowledge and experience. 
 May cast the sceptic leprosy and find 
 My childlike innocence and faith renewed. 
 Vain hope! as idle as the wish to turn 
 
92 THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 Back to its source the current that has passed 
 The moss-grown mill and bid it fill ag-ain ; 
 
 The slimy buckets of the ancient wheel. 
 
 Another vicar, razored till his face 
 Shines like a shoat at Yuletide when the cook 
 Inserts a lemon in the bloodless mouth, 
 Now g-enuflects and postures in the old 
 Gray church whose walls have caug^ht the ocean's spray 
 And worn it like a crust throug^h centuries. 
 And bit by bit the pomp that priesthood loves 
 Is being- grafted on the ordinal; 
 And some there are whose apprehensive heads 
 Are filled with bugbears and whose sermon-naps 
 Are fitful wanderings in a world of dreams 
 Where phantom parsons, chasuble encased. 
 Play hocus-pocus with a bit of bread. 
 The plain old creed that sounded sharp and clear, 
 At once a challenge and a battlecry. 
 When we his flock, followed the pastor's lead 
 And "I believe" came promptly from our lips, 
 Now drags its weary length in monotone 
 Like ballads chanted in the marketplace 
 By Munster beggars when the pigs are sold 
 And beery drovers, clad in shaggy frieze. 
 Give audience to some tale of Finn Mac Cool. 
 The quick thought, straining at each long-drawn clause, 
 Now breaks the tether and goes bounding off 
 O'er wide savannas, cropping here and there 
 Where eastern gales have borne prolific seeds 
 From German nurseries and specious crops 
 Of newer theories attract the ieye. 
 Thus while the s}' mbol is being slowly spun 
 Through half a hundred noses all the doubts 
 Of all the doubters of a doubting age 
 Obtrude unwelcome spectres, and the soul 
 That hoped to worship flounders in the black 
 
Serbonian bog- where every footstep takes 
 The stog-g-ed one farther from the stable shore. 
 
 Where Reason stands and promulg-ates its No 
 Shall Faith step in and interpose its Yes? 
 It cannot be; 'twere blasphemy to deem 
 That He who g-ave the lig-ht and feeds the flame 
 With oil of g-athered knowledge can be pleased 
 When the lig-ht bearer takes his little lamp 
 And hides it 'neath a bushel, lest its beams 
 Should dim the lustre of the feeble g-leam 
 That burns before the altar and dispel 
 The sacred shadows where the oracles 
 Are heard in adumbration like a faint 
 Survival of the clouds of Sinai. 
 
 The lig-ht that lig-hteth every child of man 
 Is special to himself and relative: 
 Envisaged through and by its tiny gleam 
 He makes his little world, and that to him 
 Is sacred Truth whose seeming to the eye 
 Accords with all his senses: clown or sage, 
 That man is trembling on the dizzy brink 
 Of madness who invests the things of sense 
 With halos and chromatic aureoles, 
 And peoples all the circumambient air 
 And space and aether with his fantasies. 
 As true to nature as the languid saints 
 Whose doll-like faces, crowned with holy hoops. 
 Attest the judgment of the Byzantines. 
 Where knowledge is denied us God exacts 
 No tribute of assent to mysteries. 
 Unable to descry the links of fate 
 That bind us to Necessity, we feel 
 A sense of freedom; let us be content 
 With this our independence lest we find 
 By questioning too closely that the law 
 Which bids us march to greater heights, yet leaves 
 
Us free to venture from the beaten track 
 
 Of older pilg^rims, is itself constraint. 
 
 For weal or woe we stand unto ourselves 
 
 As free to g-uide the current of our lives 
 
 By Reason and by Conscience, albeit 
 
 The g-uides themselves are vassals. Shall we blame 
 
 The dog" for fawning* or essay to wean 
 
 The brute from turning- round and round ag-ain 
 
 Before he seeks in Dreamland to revive 
 
 The joy of hunting"? such necessity 
 
 Hang"s o'er us from the cradle to the g"rave: 
 
 The will we boast is fashioned for us and 
 
 The drift and tenor of our little lives 
 
 Is part of one g"reat purpose, thoug"h the book 
 
 Wherein 'tis written stands for ever sealed 
 
 To all but God, its Author and its End. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I found a lark but yestereve, 
 Down by the hedg"erow, where the mowers leave 
 Unscathed by scythe one little corner where 
 The gate swings inward and the foxg-loves share 
 The nook thus sheltered: there with heaving" breast 
 
 It stood beside its nest. 
 Stunned by the hand that did that nest bereave. 
 
 Full tenderly I smoothed its wings 
 And bore it to my cottage, where it sing's 
 The livelong" day, and while its little throat 
 Pours out its liquid melody no note 
 Of grief for ravished freedom strikes m}^ ear, 
 
 No matin song" more clear 
 When with the sunrise all the welkin rings. 
 
 V. 
 
 O God! if that Thou art a sentient thing 
 And not mere feeling", why was such a mind 
 
Permitted thus to be encag-ed, to beat 
 
 The cruel bars that hedg-ed it, and at last, 
 
 Sublimely challeng-ing- the janitor 
 
 Who stands beside the portal to unlock 
 
 The ebon g"ate, to pass a conqueror 
 
 Or into life or silence — who shall say? 
 
 O Kng-land! on that early summer morn 
 
 The brown-armed reaper, stolid as the steer 
 
 That grazed the neighbouring- pasture, stayed the hand 
 
 That drew the rasping- whetstone o'er the blade. 
 
 And felt a thrill of joyance when the lark 
 
 Rose like a feathered carol overhead! 
 
 Yet who of all to whom that morning-'s sun 
 
 Came bright with promise in the golden fields 
 
 From Kent to Carlisle, Sennen to the Wash, 
 
 Might trace that nobler songster who had forced 
 
 His prison barriers and with ready wing 
 
 Outstripped the eagle in his haste to gain 
 
 The purer aether where no earthly taint 
 
 Or terrene element could clog his soul? 
 
 O England! where the prophet eats his bread 
 
 With salt of his own weeping, what had he, 
 
 The Boy of Bristol, common to the herd 
 
 Spoon-fingered of the greedy clowns that throng 
 
 The streets of Babylon, where burgher souls 
 
 Feel but one impulse? or of those in whom 
 
 The fire of genius heats the crucible 
 
 Where like an alchemist the student blends 
 
 Wit, wisdom, folly in his lust for gold? 
 
 Or those who, perched beneath the sounding-board, 
 
 Hebdomadally teach us to beware 
 
 Lest anchorless we drift adown the flood 
 
 To cataracts of anarchy and lust; 
 
 Who chill the lifeblood of our enterprise 
 
 And drive us skulking to the mildewed shades 
 
 Of Superstition, lest the noonday sun 
 
96 THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 Darting- delirium strike our fevered heads? 
 
 O Cliatterton! if aug-ht of thee survive 
 The swift obstetrics of that summer nig-ht, 
 Hear this my protest when I raise my voice 
 Disclaiming- fealty to the trader's g-od! 
 Hear this my malison on that fell creed 
 Of contrary environment* which makes 
 Deformit}^ the order of the world 
 And sanctifies the hemlock when man lifts 
 A righteous hand ag-ainst the house of life! 
 
 Brave heart and gallant spirit that could thus 
 Defy the Furies, snatching- victory 
 When pitiless Meg-asra bade the world 
 Of cant and custom pile another cairn 
 On Genius conquered, excellence subdued. 
 To stand a suppliant in the servants' hall 
 And eat the bread of patronage or g-rind 
 A stinted measure for the Philistines 
 Who mock the blinded g-iant as he toils. 
 The hack of letters, for his daily crust. 
 Brave heart and g-allant spirit! at the last 
 Thou madest Death thy minister and he. 
 Whom cowards dread and shun, became tli}^ slave 
 To answer to thy summons and totug- 
 The labouring- oar to ferry thee across 
 To that dim shore where thou mig-ht'st haply find 
 An answer to the query of th}^ life. 
 And stand before the Presence, there to learn 
 The secret spring of that great myster}^. 
 Thine incarnation and thy placement in 
 A world inimical; to learn perchance 
 The reason of the union of a soul 
 Creative, proud, and absolute with clay 
 Of stolid Wessex where the yokels stand 
 
 -^-'■'■Antiperisfasis is a philosophical term, sig-nifying- a repulsion on every part," 
 (Note to Bacon's "Table of the Colours of Good and Evil.") 
 
THOMAS CHATTERTON. ' 97 
 
 With mouths ag-ape or munching- lazy straws 
 The while they incubate their leaden thoug-hts. 
 
 Brave heart and g-allant spirit! who of those 
 Who daily drink the acid and the g-all 
 Of cross-bound Genius while the venal scribes 
 Who sit in Moses' seat wag- pitying- heads 
 Hath caug-ht no echo from that farther shore 
 Inviting- him to venture? Such have I 
 Heard in the g-loaming- when that Hesper, poised 
 Amid the chang-ing- bronzes of the west, 
 Shone like a beacon set at heaven's g-ate: 
 And sweeter than ^Eolian music seems 
 The murmur of the wavelets as they break 
 On that broad strand whereto who wills may pass 
 Unchalleng-ed, unimpeded. Bide thy time, 
 O ready mariner! and stand prepared 
 To slip thy cable when the storm of life 
 Blows fiercest and the rocks that fring-e thy lee 
 Gnash deadly hatred, and the fate-spume flies 
 Like vipers' venom, and the wreckers wait 
 To see thee in the breakers wbile they mock 
 Thee strug-g-ling- where the white-capped surges dash 
 The waifs of time upon a hostile shore. 
 
 O welcome revolution that hath brought 
 Freedom to all who dare to lift their chains 
 And strip the rusty iron scale by scale! 
 And happy ye, the Christs on whom the oil 
 Of God's anointing- truth hath been outpoured 
 To make ye kings, the fearless chiefs* who claim 
 The lordship over Self, that little realm 
 Where each may be a Cassar who can dare 
 To challeng-e old Prescription and to set 
 At naug-ht the g-reybeard Prejudice that kneels 
 Before the roodscreen mumbling- o'er his beads! 
 
 "■Compare Seneca, Thyestes, Act II. — 
 
 ''Rex est qui inettiit nihil ; 
 Hoc regnnm sihi quixquc daf.'' 
 
98 THOMAS CHATTERTON. 
 
 For weal or woe ye are the lords of life, 
 
 Imperial umpires vested with the rig-ht 
 
 Of ultimate decision: when the soul 
 
 Hath strug-gled through Gethsemane, and when 
 
 The g-rinning- skulls of Golgotha shine out 
 
 In phosphorescent mockery, and when 
 
 The smirking Pharisees prepare to gloat 
 
 O'er hopeless Misery fastened to the cross, — 
 
 Then, when the skies are brazen and the air. 
 
 Surcharged with hell-fires, quivers with the glow. 
 
 And God himself withdraws within the veil 
 
 Where human plaint is heard not, then, brave souls! 
 
 'Tis yours, like Chatterton, to turn defeat 
 
 To victory most certain and to make 
 
 The Grand Inquisitor himself your slave! 
 
 Have courage, brothers! where the boy hath trod 
 
 The man may boldly follow, and perchance 
 
 Across the flood are verdant meads where songs 
 
 The sottish world refused to hear are sung 
 
 To chords that in themselves are anodynes 
 
 For all earth's pain and sorrow and neglect! 
 
 Bright fields of living asphodel where foot 
 
 Of churl or slave or caitiff never trod! 
 
 Be this our bourn, and those our comrades there 
 
 Who bore unflinchingly the stroke of fate, — 
 
 Or patriots or martyrs,— who in death 
 
 Like Saxon Harold won a nobler crown 
 
 And wider empire than the world could give! 
 
 O royal Death! O kindly Death! thy touch 
 
 Is benediction and thy kiss is sweet. 
 
MISCELLANEA. 
 
 O, testudinis aureae 
 
 Dulceni quae strepituin, Pieri, temperas: 
 * * * * -:f -:f 
 
 Quod spiro et placeo (si placeo) tuuiii est. 
 [Horaf., Carm. IV, Ode Hi.) 
 
MISCELLANEA. 
 
 A CLOUD CAROL. 
 
 The Ice King- wondering- looked below 
 Where the poet's home was seen, 
 At the rhododendrons' verdant g-low, 
 The wax-leaved kalmias, row on row, 
 And the mystic holly's green. 
 
 "My malison on the walls," he cried, 
 "The rocky walls that fend 
 
 These sylvan ding"les from my wide 
 
 Dominion and compel my pride 
 And sovereig-nty to bend!" 
 
 He raised his hand and the hills g-rew pale 
 
 At the fury of his wrath; 
 Vapor and cloudburst and scathing- hail, 
 Borne on the wing-s of the arctic g-ale, 
 
 The heralds to clear his path. 
 
 And the monarch shook from his diadem 
 
 And scatter'd his treasures round 
 O'er branch and frond, o'er leaf and stem,— 
 Where'er he looked a twinkling g-em 
 That morn Hyperion found. 
 
 And lo! the Delian g-ave each brig-ht 
 
 Translucent spark a tong-ue: 
 Symbols of purity and lig-ht 
 Divine, they met the poet's sig-ht. 
 
 And this the song- they sung-. 
 
 The Cirrus. 
 Over coral islets in summer seas 
 We float like a fleecy veil; 
 In idlesse we toy with the lang-uid breeze. 
 
102 MISCELLANEA. 
 
 Or flirt with the joyous g-ale. 
 
 And all day long- 
 
 We hear the song- 
 Of the mighty sea, and we love to trace 
 Our chang-eful forms in his honest face. 
 
 Pure, unsullied, and chaste are we, 
 
 Cloud-vestals in robes of snow; 
 Feathery, filose, and forward and free. 
 High over the ebb and flow 
 Of the human tide 
 Of sin and pride. 
 Untarnished by evil, untouched by care. 
 We wander at will through the ambient air. 
 
 The Stratus. 
 Silently, steadily, rank on rank, 
 
 We gather our wide arraj-. 
 With tenuous squadrons on the flank 
 
 Drawn out where the zephyrs play. 
 
 Silently, steadily, tier on tier. 
 
 As the Titans built so build we; 
 
 And the mariner's cheek is blanched with fear 
 When the shadow comes o'er the sea. 
 
 For the whilome azure tint forsakes 
 
 The liquid dells between 
 The rippling crests where Triton shakes 
 
 His locks of em'rald green. 
 
 And the leashed dogs growl in the thunder caves, 
 For their time of release is nigh. 
 
 When the red bolt shoots o'er the wakening waves, 
 And the lightning rends the sky. 
 
 Silently, sullenly: lo! the gale 
 
 Is quickened and ripe for birth: — 
 
 Whirlwind and deluge and blinding hail. 
 And the hurricane's frenzied mirth. 
 
The Cumulus, — Tornado. 
 
 Panting- and throbbing-, lo! where the city 
 Heaves like a giant oppressed! 
 Lo! where the mother's eye looks down in pity 
 On the wan babe at her breast! 
 Sluggishly flows the dark river; 
 Only the aspen leaves quiver; 
 Glaring-ly, flaring-ly g-loweth the sun. — 
 Oh, that his race were run! 
 Oh, that the day were done! 
 That the jaded toilers and moilers mig-ht flee to their welcome beds, 
 To pray for the evening- zephyr to fan their fevered heads. 
 
 Mark ye its pulsing breast. 
 Low in the far south-west, 
 Where the sky and prairie meet, — 
 Mark ye the spume clouds fleet! 
 'Tis but a summer shower. 
 Born but to die in an hour. 
 
 Rejoice, O panting- city! 
 The kindly heaven in pit}- 
 Hath sent relief: 
 Pray that the storm be brief. 
 
 Green and purple and g-old, 
 Gold and purple and g-reen; 
 Piling- up fold on fold, 
 And ever the g-lare between! 
 
 Mark how the vapors throng-, 
 
 List to the storm cloud's song-! 
 
 Like the small cloud that, rising- from the sea, 
 Spread over Carmel's head its ebon pall 
 While Ahab rode to Jezreel, so do we 
 Spread darkling to the zenith: lurid all, 
 
 Tumid and convolute, 
 
 Preg-nant with thunder: 
 
 Lo! bird and beast are mute, 
 
 Palsied with wonder! 
 
104 MISCEJLLANEA. 
 
 Ho! for the merry dance! 
 Gaily we leap and prance, 
 Twisting- and turning"! 
 Hark! from the teeming womb 
 Rumbles the thunder boom 
 Wild lightnings burning! 
 
 Now! now! now! 
 Stretch forth the finger — 
 Why should we linger? 
 
 Now! now! now! 
 
 Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 
 
 Hurrah! for the whirlwind's breath! 
 
 For the carnival of death! 
 Hurrah! 
 
 Cottage and stable, 
 
 Turret and gable, 
 Are food for the funnel cloud; 
 
 Brutal and human, 
 
 Maiden and woman, 
 It gathers them, humble or proud. 
 Hurrah for the force we wield! 
 Hurrah for the ravaged field! 
 Borne on the wild wind's wings 
 Lo! man and the puny things 
 He calleth his are sped,^ — 
 Hurrah for the stricken dead! 
 They are done with care and sorrow. 
 With the burden of to-morrow. 
 With the loves and hates of years. 
 And their meed of smiles and tears; — 
 
 Hurrah for the peaceful dead! 
 
 The city lies prostrate, the fury hath passed. 
 
 The mourners are silent, the pale moon hath cast 
 
 Her silver effulgence in flood o'er the path 
 
 Where the Storm King went by in the might of his wrath. 
 
MISCEIvI^ANEA. 105 
 
 The river, transfused with new life rushes by, 
 
 The fireflies kindle their lamps as they fly; 
 
 The nig-ht breeze floats in where the terror once whirled. 
 
 And whispers that death is the life of the world. 
 
 WHY? 
 
 A mother lay dead, 
 
 Dead in her prime, 
 And the death-watch — friends and neig-hbours — 
 Sat around; 
 
 As, in God's time. 
 When we, my brothers, shall have ceased our labors, 
 Those whom we know shall watch when that profound 
 
 Sleep that we so much dread 
 Shall chill our blood and turn our flesh to clay, 
 And dreamless nig-ht perchance shall close our da3\ 
 
 A mother lay dead! 
 
 One little, feeble wail, — 
 "Mamma!" one wailing- cry: 
 And the guardian ang-el's cheek turns pale 
 As the accents pierce the sky. 
 It was her nestling--bird. 
 The young-est of the brood: — 
 O God! can it be that the cry is heard? 
 O God! hath the breast of the mother stirred 
 
 When the nursling- cried for food? 
 
 Go to, vain man! canst thou explain 
 The mystery of love and pain? 
 
106 MISCKlvLANEA. 
 
 BALLAD OF MINER JIM.* 
 
 1. 
 Write me a name and. a simple line 
 
 To tell of a noble deed; 
 Write me the tale of the Rossland mine; 
 
 Write larg-e that the world may read. 
 
 2. 
 Jim Hemsworth — only a common name, 
 
 Plain Ang-lo-Saxon Jim: 
 You will find it hard on the roll of fame 
 
 To find a place for him. 
 J. 
 Smith, Conson, Hemsworth, comrades three. 
 
 With Jim at the windlass crank: 
 In that narrow shaft you might hardl}^ see 
 
 The daylig-ht above at bank. 
 4. 
 They filled the bucket with gleaming- ore, — 
 
 "Stand clear!" as it rose o'erhead; 
 And the sturdy miners bent once more 
 
 To the mattocks that gave them bread. 
 
 5. 
 
 Oh 'tis hard on the back and 'tis hard on the knee,, 
 
 For the shaft is deep I ween; 
 And a miner's winch in the north countree 
 
 Is a clumsy, slow machine. 
 6. 
 You may strike it rich — if you're born to luck; 
 
 You may toil from da^^ to day 
 Hoping on, till you find that you've only struck 
 
 A chute that can never pay. 
 
 *The story of "a rare act of heroism, such as deserves to be recorded in history 
 and song-, which was performed at Rossland, British Columbia," was first pub- 
 lished (early in 1897) by the San Fraiicisco Examiner, and subsequently (April 28, 
 1897) by the Chicago Daily Neivs. At the time of writing it was not known if the 
 hero's life could be preserved by amputating his arms at the shoulders. 
 
MISCEI^LANEA. 107 
 
 7. 
 Two hundred dollars a month, or more, — 
 
 You must work thoug-h you break your back; 
 The Chinee cook and the bill at the store, 
 
 And the rent of the little shack, 
 8. 
 With a g-rip of steel in his hardened hands 
 
 He heaves throug-h the livelong- day; 
 You can trace his shoulders' knotted bands 
 
 And the rope-like sinews play. 
 9. 
 Creaking- and g-roaning-, see it come 
 
 To the blessed upper air; 
 The cable coils round the polished drum, 
 
 And the g-listening- freig-ht is here. 
 10. 
 One effort more and the load will be 
 
 Swung- clear of the pit, — O God! 
 See the broken crank fall aimlessly 
 
 With the winchman to the sod! 
 11. 
 And the bucket speeds like a bolt of death 
 
 From the lig-ht to the shaft's black g-loom, 
 Where the awestruck dig-g-ers hold their breath 
 
 At that rushing-, certain doom. 
 
 12. 
 Thine hour is come: lo! Miner Jim, 
 
 To this thing- wast thou born, 
 As Calvary's cross came unto Him 
 
 By whom the thorns were worn, 
 13. 
 Full on the whirling- wheels he sprung-. 
 
 He thrust his arms between 
 Their cruel teeth, the torn flesh hung- 
 
 In shreds incarnadine. 
 
108 MISCEIvIvANEA. 
 
 14. 
 Never a cry Jim Hemsworth g-ave 
 
 In his awful ag-ony, 
 While the warm blood ran like a crimson wave 
 
 From the wheels and the axle tree. 
 15. 
 Oh their hearts g-rew chill when the terror dropped 
 
 On the men in that narrow mine; 
 But the hero smiled when the bucket stopped 
 
 And his look was all divine. 
 16. 
 Then they blocked the wheel and with tender care 
 
 Drew him forth from that cruel rim; 
 And strong" men wept when they stooped to bear 
 
 The litter of Martyr Jim. 
 17. 
 "Never mind," he cried with a cheerful voice. 
 
 As the foreman bowed his head, 
 "Never mind, so long- as I saved the boys; 
 
 Thank Godl they are safe," he said. 
 18. 
 Oh g-reater love hath no man than this, 
 
 That he die to save his friend; 
 And in Love Divine he shall find the bliss. 
 
 That can never, never end. 
 19. 
 And this is the tale of the Rossland mine,. 
 
 The tale that all men should read, 
 And this is the name and the simple line 
 
 To tell of a noble deed. 
 20. 
 "Jim Hemsworth, the Miner, saved his mates:"' 
 
 Be it written clear and plain; 
 And the world will know that the g-ood God rates 
 
 Jim's loss Jim's highest g-ain. 
 
MISCELLANEA. 109 
 
 TO THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 Thou, with thy king-men, every man a host 
 
 Bucklered by Liberty, why dost thou sleep, 
 While eastern breezes bear across the deep 
 From snow-crowned Ida and the Cuban coast 
 The dirg-e of Freedom? where is now the boast 
 Of thy great charter? Lo! the ang-els weep 
 To see thee somneous when thy sword should leap 
 Like veng-eful lig-htning- from its sheath: thou know'st 
 Thy frown can daunt the tyrant; wilt thou then, 
 
 Oblivious of thy mission, let the stars 
 That g-race thy standard droop in lang-uor when 
 
 Blood, lust, and rapine gflut their g-reed in wars? 
 Oh that my call mig-ht move thee, mig-ht inspire 
 Thy sons once more to lig-ht the fathers' fire! 
 
 TWO AVATARS: 
 
 Buddha — Chklst. 
 
 Earthward, across the g^ulf that spreads between 
 Time and Eternity there came a Soul, — 
 A life-g-erm from the heart of the g-reat Whole, 
 
 And wondering- shepherds, seeing- its lig-ht serene. 
 
 Their flocks forsaking-, g-uided by its sheen. 
 Came, g-ift-beladen, to that lowly g-oal 
 In the rude stable, where the timid foal 
 
 And wide-ej'ed oxen saw the wondrous scene. 
 
 O Mang-er-Born! methinks Thy pensive eyes 
 Of introspection even now compare 
 
 This littered stable with the memories 
 
 Of far Lumbini's pleasant g-arden, where 
 
 Siddhartha came the fourfold way to find 
 
 That the next avatar by Love refined. 
 
110 MISCELLANEA. 
 
 AD SAPIENTES. 
 
 Once, in m}- nonag-e, I rode forth to quell 
 
 Three g-iants g-rim and g-ory that had long- 
 Oppressed the nations, filled the earth with wrong", 
 
 And made man's little life a constant hell 
 
 Wherein the three fell autocrats did dwell 
 
 Enthroned in mystery. Trusting- in my strong- 
 Rig-ht arm and mail of proof, I met the throng- 
 
 Of hireling- myrmidons and battled well. 
 
 Woe worth the day when, victory achieved, 
 
 I called the people forth to liberty! 
 Then stood they blinking- in the sun, ag-g-rieved. 
 
 Cursing- the hand that dared to set them free. 
 And with sheathed g-laive and uncouched lance I soug-ht 
 A hermit's refug-e in the Realm of Thoug-ht. 
 
 THE NONDESCRIPTS. 
 
 Written after reading- an estimate of the world's population, 
 wherein the whole human famil3'- was classed according to religion, — 
 as Buddhists, Christians, Mohammedans, etc., ^111, 000, 000 being set 
 down as Nondescript Heathens. 
 
 Why stand ye thus unlabelled? Can it be 
 
 Ye are so worthless that Redemption passed 
 Ye by unheeded? or are ye the last 
 
 Reserve of the g-reat army, doomed to see 
 
 Christian and Moslem, Buddhist, Brahman fling- 
 The temple idols into one vast heap 
 Cong-lomerate, that haply they may keep 
 
 Kach its own interest in the smelted thing-? 
 
 Then while men marvel that their g-od should be 
 A senseless, dumb alloy, will ye reclaim 
 The creed primasval, and perchance proclaim 
 
 The primal truth that God has made man free? 
 
THE CRY OF GREECE. 
 
 (April, 1S<)7. ) 
 
 O Wing"less Victor}'!* come forth and stand 
 
 Where stood thy temple in the davs of old! 
 Come forth to shame the caitiffs who withhold 
 
 Their help and comfort while the hellish band, 
 
 Mahound's blood drinkers, desolate the land! 
 
 Shame on thee, Eng-land! that thy lust of g-old 
 Hath closed thine ears while God himself hath tolled 
 
 The knell of Turkish infamy! Thy hand 
 
 Could stay the mong-rel crew and rescue Greece. 
 How art thou fallen from thy big-li estate, 
 
 That for thj'self thou seek'st ig-noble peace. 
 
 Taking- th}' cue from despots, whose vile hate 
 
 Of Hellas and her hopes portends for thee 
 
 An empire lost and lapsed supremacN"! 
 
 GAUTAMA BUDDHA. 
 
 Thou wast a living-, breathing- man, with heart 
 Attuned like mine to every human chord; 
 Feeling- the needs that I feel, drawn toward 
 Wife, offspring-, friends, and country; and thou art 
 Man's best exemplar in the allotted part 
 
 We all must play in life, where no reward 
 Is hig-her than the meed of being- lord 
 Of that small realm where Passion's her}' dart 
 Makes living- misery. Oh! would that I 
 
 Could follow in thy footsteps and attain 
 The heig-hts serene to view th^ tranquil sky 
 
 Where not an echo of earth's cry of pain 
 Disturbs the aether, so might I combine 
 Thy spirit's freedom and thy love divine! 
 
 ■"Nike Apteros, whose temple on the Acropolis commemorated the victorj' over 
 the Persians near the river Eurvmedon. 
 
THE SENTINEL. 
 
 He stands at the door, j-et he enters not, 
 
 That sentinel old and g-rim; 
 Nor prineeling- nor satrap meeteth aug^ht 
 Of sig^n or salute from him, 
 As they pass him by 
 With averted eye; 
 But their cheeks grow pale and the quick nerves thrill 
 At thought of that Presence so cold and still. 
 
 He hath stood long syne on the snow}' plain 
 
 Through many a wear}- day, 
 And heard unmoved the slow refrain 
 As the exiles went their wa}'^; 
 And ever I ween 
 That scythe so keen, 
 When in pity swung for the exiles' g-roans, 
 Hath left but the stubble of whitened bones. 
 
 Full oft hath he passed by the fortress wall 
 
 And hath heard the bitter cry; 
 And unheeding sped bej'ond the call 
 
 Of the wretch who fain would die. 
 In the land-thrall's cot 
 He may gather not. 
 But the landlord's wealth and the landlord's state 
 Turn to dust at his knock on the castle g'ate. 
 
 He stands at the door of the mighty Czar 
 
 And counteth the grains of sand; 
 When the last shall fall nor bolt nor bar 
 Shall make him sta)- his hand. 
 Grim sentinel! 
 Could'st thou but tell 
 To the waiting millions o'er all the earth 
 That this vigil of Death meant a people's birth! 
 
 *Written during- the last illness of Alexander III., Czar of Russia. 
 
LOVE'S STAGES. 
 
 How doth he love who loves in youth? 
 With fondest trust and vows of truth; 
 Ere passion taints, his love is sooth — 
 Abiding^. 
 
 How loves the maid when fancy's wing- 
 Of new-born facult}^ doth spring- 
 To g-reet brig-ht Eros as her king-? 
 — Confiding. 
 
 How loveth he to whom the years 
 Of manhood's toil and manhood's tears 
 Have g-iven judg-ment, streng-th, and fears? 
 — Rig-ht surely. 
 
 And she whose youthful years have fled, — 
 How loves she when from out the dead 
 Dust of past hopes a spark is bred? 
 — Demurely. 
 
 For him who feebly strives to throw 
 On autumn leaves Love's eestive g-low 
 How shines the taper burning- low? 
 — Obscurely. 
 
 Oh world-renewing-, mig-hty Love! 
 Like the branch brougfht by Noah's dove 
 Thou bring-est pledgees from above 
 To allure me. 
 
 What thoug-h Time's frost hath touched my brow, 
 What thoug-h the furrows of his ploug-h 
 Are on my cheek? yet will I vow 
 As lig-htly 
 
 As when in youth I swore to be 
 The slave of Beauty — ag-e shall see 
 The silvery flame alive in me 
 
 Burn brig-htly. 
 
114' MISCELLANEA. 
 
 And when my barque floats on the wide 
 Dark river, and I feel her g-Hde 
 To where Oblivion's silent tide 
 Heaves never, — 
 
 Then let me bear across the sea 
 To shores unknown one memory; 
 That woman's love may comfort me 
 For ever! 
 
 TOO LATE. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Though done but yesterday 
 It evermore shall stay 
 
 A deed wroug-ht by thy hand, 
 
 Whose consequence shall stand 
 For ever and for ever. 
 Retrieve it shalt thou never: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Althoug-h in after years 
 Thine eyes distil salt tears, 
 
 When memory shall recall 
 
 The story of that fall,— 
 A trusting- maid, 
 A love betrayed: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Repentance cannot bring- 
 Exemption from the sting-; 
 
 Remorse shall weig-h thee down 
 
 In field or tower or town; 
 The wide world o'er 
 It g-oes before: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Not thoug"li thy voice could reach 
 Where never human speech 
 
 Or human sig-h was heard, 
 
 Whose calm was never stirred, 
 Where all is naug'ht 
 But God's own thoug-ht: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Standing- beside her tomb, 
 Be this thine awful doom, 
 
 To know 'twas done for aye — 
 
 Sought, yielded, cast awa}'! 
 One little heart 
 Giv'n, torn apart: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Not though her spirit bore 
 Forgiveness from the shore 
 
 Too early sought, when love 
 
 Was outraged; far above 
 All form of will 
 The Past stands still: 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Not even when thy soul 
 Shall reach its final goal, 
 
 And in the clear white light 
 
 Of that All-Searching sight 
 Archangels read 
 Aloud that deed, 
 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Thou canst not call it back: 
 
 Within the eternal gates 
 Silent her spirit waits 
 
Thy coming"; — liow wilt thou, 
 With falsehood on thy brow, 
 In thy great need 
 Find grace to plead? 
 Thou canst not call it back. 
 
 Miserere, miserere 
 Met, Dornine! 
 
 RICHARD REALF. 
 
 (Died Oct. 28, 1878. Buried in Lone Mountain Cemetery, San Francisco.) 
 
 There, within hearing* of the mig"hty sea, 
 
 They made thy bed, O Gifted One! and raised 
 Thy simple monument, where love erased 
 
 All mention of the curse that fell on thee 
 
 When thou, Apollo's envoy, bent thy knee 
 
 Where loose-zoned nymphs and g-races passion-crazed 
 Attend Cythera's chariot.* When, amazed. 
 
 We saw thee break the lute whose melody 
 
 Had charmed two hemispheres, and when thy soul, 
 In terror flying- from its Nemesis, 
 
 Had rushed unbidden to that unknown g-oal 
 
 Where she was waiting- thee whose fiery kiss 
 
 Made thee a man and exile, then we learned 
 
 How bright the flame men called thy Genius burned. 
 
MISCELLANEA. 117 
 
 AT GOLDSMITH'S GRAVE. 
 London, October 31, 1894. 
 
 I. 
 
 All-Hallow-Eve and Goldsmith's humble grave! 
 
 Beyond me, like the distant roar 
 
 Of western surg-es on the shore 
 Where the black Longships snarling- meet the wave 
 
 I hear the din of Fleet Street, and within 
 
 The Templars' church the choristers beg-in 
 The chant that on the morn shall fill the nave 
 
 And gray rotunda with a silver flood 
 
 Of melody and praise as when the blood 
 Of the stern warrior-saints who g-ladly gave 
 
 Their all to Christ was stirred, 
 
 When the proud psalm was heard 
 On eastern deserts where the paynim horde 
 First learned to dread the Templar's hymn and sword. 
 
 II. 
 
 My years have number'd his, and lo! I stand 
 By Goldsmith's g-rave at Hallow-E'en! 
 Patience, my spirit, while I g-lean 
 
 Time's aftermath within my ready hand! 
 
 Enduring-, humble, hopeful, this was he: 
 This, too. All-wise Disposer! teach thou me, 
 
 Forg-otten pilgrim to my native land! 
 
 Here, where the very pavement hath a voice, 
 I hear a whisper bidding me rejoice 
 
 To bear the standard of the knig-htly band 
 Who, strengthened by defeat. 
 Unflinchingly can meet 
 
 The barbed arrows of the Paynim throng- 
 
 Who scorn the minor poet and his song-. 
 
118 MISCELLANEA. 
 
 RICARDO ANTONIO PROCTOR. 
 
 ViRO PrtEdito Virtute Mnemosynon. 
 
 The murmuring- rill in ocean finds its death, 
 
 So g-lides man's life toward the gloomy portal, 
 Alas! how speedily of every mortal 
 
 The memory fades, as fades the parting- breath.* 
 
 To nobly live the sage's life resigned, 
 
 For human good its calm career pursuing-— 
 Or nobly die for man and man's well-doing-, 
 
 Alike becomes and proves the g-enerous mind.t 
 
 Inspired and cheered by all who knew its worth, — . 
 The hope of fame with altruism blending- — 
 Such Proctor's life, whose all-unlooked for ending 
 
 Awoke a chord of sorrow round the earth. 
 
 No fav'rerhe of mysteries profound; 
 
 His keen eye searched the cosmos to discover 
 Its hidden meanings, while of truth a lover 
 
 He scorned to feig-n when ang-ry bigots frowned. 
 
 In him reviv'd, we saw the g-enerous fire 
 
 That g-lowed in Bruno's g-allant bosom burning-; 
 From Falsehood's compromise with horror turning-, 
 
 As Bruno spurned the image from the pyre.t 
 
 * (pei), rnv Oavovrof tic raxs'ia ~"; (iiwTo'tQ. 
 X^ptQ Stappel — Sophocles, Ajax, 1266-7. 
 
 ■j- a'AX' 7) KUAug i,fjv, Tj Ka'/iur reOvr/Ktvai. 
 Tov EvyevTJ XPV- — Ibid 479-80. 
 
 :j;In 1875, Mr. Proctor, upon being informed that certain of his scientific opin- 
 ions and teaching-s were opposed to the doctrines of his church, unreservedly ab- 
 jured and withdrew from that church. In 1878, when a well-known London minis- 
 ter alluded to the terrible loss of life resulting from the sinking of the Princess 
 Alice, as an example of God's mercy to the survivors, Mr. Proctor and the writer 
 of these lines entered forcible protests against such pulpit utterances. In one of 
 his letters on this occasion, Mr. Proctor wrote thus: "No wonder clergymen com- 
 plain that Atheism, or what they take to be Atheism, is spreading. Better a hun- 
 dred-fold to believe in no God at all, than to believe in such a God as some of them 
 picture to us." (From The Open Court, Sept. 27, 
 
Thrice noble Indag-ator! thou shalt live 
 
 In minds whose form is partly thine, — preparing- 
 The way to "vaster issues," still declaring- 
 
 The g-lory of the bounty God doth g-ive! 
 
 God — the Eternal Order— Being-— All: 
 
 Of whom we are, in whom we shall be ever; 
 Chang-ing- throug-h all, but deviating- never, 
 
 Thoug-h suns g-row dark, men die, or sparrows fall. 
 
 THE CARDIOGRAPH.* 
 
 (Sug-g-ested b}' 1887 being- the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Invention of 
 the Electric Telegraph.) 
 
 Said Cupid to Venus: 
 "Dear mother, between us 
 I think we can hit on a notion. 
 That will g-ive us much pleasure, and serve in a measure 
 To keep all mankind in commotion. 
 
 "A creature called Morse, 
 A Yankee, of course; 
 The devil's in all of that nation — 
 Has struck an invention, of which I've heard mention, 
 Which certainly beats all creation. 
 
 "With wires and dials, 
 And mag-nets and phials, 
 Men chatter tog-ether at ease. 
 From Boston to Cork, San Francisco, New York, 
 Over deserts, throug-h rivers, and seas. 
 
 "Shame befall us if they, 
 Mere creatures of clay, 
 • At us, the Immortals, should laug-h! 
 So let us be wise, and something- devise. 
 To rival the new teleg-raph." 
 
Thus spoke the boy Cupid, 
 Whom some g-ods thoug^ht stupid: 
 
 And, lo! in a moment he found' 
 An energ-}^ latent, Jove granted a patent, 
 
 With powers to test it around. 
 
 With his bow in his hand. 
 
 The blind boy took his stand. 
 Not far from two children of earth: 
 He touched both their hearts with the point of his darts, 
 And flew back to heaven in mirth. 
 
 And since then, each heart, 
 
 However apart 
 In distance — holds commune most sweet; 
 For, though oceans should run between them, each one 
 Feels the other responsively beat. 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 April 26, 1865. 
 
 Thou, I, and God's own priest, 
 
 And that clear April morn; 
 
 The dedicated feast — 
 
 And lo! thou wast reborn! 
 
 Then stood I there alone. 
 
 Alone henceforth to be; 
 
 A helmless vessel thrown 
 
 A waif on life's black sea. 
 
 Oh! piteous hands that reach 
 Beyond the veil in vain! 
 
 Oh! grief too deep for speech! 
 Oh! heritage of pain! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
Publisher's Notice. 
 
 A limited number of copies of this volume has been re- 
 served to meet the demand that ma}- result from reviews and 
 press notices. With these exceptions, the first edition has 
 already been sold. Sing-le copies can be secured only from 
 the author, 
 
 243 Fifth Street, La Salle, Illinois, U. S., 
 at the following- prices, including" postage: 
 
 U. S. and Canada One Dollar. 
 
 Great Britain - - - - - - Four Shillings. 
 
 France -- Five Francs. 
 
 Germany - - Four Marks. 
 
 India - - - . - - - Two Rupees. 
 Japan - One Yen. 
 
 B^^'The author of "Song- of the Ages" earnestly requests 
 that a copy of every review or notice may be mailed to him. 
 This favor is especially solicited from journals published 
 outside the United States.