'PS 1599 E5 M5 1897 Copy 1 ^-,^^S OF COV; ©$e fiECittttittg (^amt hliA '51 % O ©§e CBCittttinj (§Same A POEM RECITED BEFORE THE PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY IN THE MEMORIAL HALL July ist, 1897 BY , EDWARD WALDO EMERSON t CAMBRIDGE 1897 I- K COFTBIGHT, 1897, BY EDWARD W. EMBESON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED f^7 THE WINNING GAME The waning Century knows his knell is rung When thirty times the pendent moon has swung Around the planet, yet his untamed eye New wonders, triumphs, glories doth descry. Yea, were the moons but moments, his proud hope No less with Destiny again would cope. His armed eye hath pierced the human wall, Hath leaped o'er distance dizzy to appal Man's reeling senses. Now his eager ear Voices antipodal, ay, dead, would hear. That fatal hand hath with the lightning wrought ; Those feet, the roe outrun, would challenge thought That mind, o'er pain victorious, deal with death. Hark ! what is that he utters with full breath ? " I lift the curse. No more break ye the clods ; Made godlike by my gifts, be ye as gods ! For Man is no more a child His eager will to yield : No more shall the dreamer mild Prating thi'ough Earth's treasure-field Lead the foolish son of earth : Are gold and gramerye nothing worth ? 4 THE WINNING GAME m " That old-time Wisdom by the Hebrew sung, That erring maiden, named in Grecian tongue Philosophy, no more shall lead astray. With Life to guide her on the one true way. For Life is rich and fertile, strong and brave, Beyond compare a glorious boon to have. Woo her, Son ; her sister well may bide ; Behold how I have dowered her for thy bride. The dumb and rugged Earth to her hath told The spells commanding fire and bread and gold. The heaving wastes of Ocean's uneared plain To her no more a steely glittering chain, For her the blue and blasting fire of heaven A speedier Iris for her mandates given. And mark the giant foemen of thy race, Grim, stubborn Matter, ancient Time and Space, Humbled and bound her bridal train to grace. Behold the tyrants of the days of yore. Tradition, Reverence, Worship, Ancient Lore, — All these discrowned shall hamper Life no more. " I have righted an ancient wrong, The mouldered bonds I have burst ; For Cunning and Might have been chained too long. And the last shall now be first. Would you wit of what I have done, And number my barriers broken ? On the new world shining under the sun Look forth for a sign and a token ! THE WINNING GAME " See king and priest and yoeman, The matron and the maid, — Following Fortune on her wheel They whirl through the sun and shade. Where is the reverent scholar, A thought for his rich reward ? Where the man of God with his chastening rod, And where is the haughty bard ? " Long may ye search for them : If ye find them, few will heed, For Earth's blind forces are the game Man follows — Power and Speed. For Speed from thieving Time shall snatch The hours reft from Man, And Power can all things overmatch. The kingdom comes to him who can. " Pale priests of the Ideal, Sit ye apart and dream. In the triumph-day of the Real He needs not things that seem. That brain the primal force shall find. Those feet, the way by man ne'er trod ; That armed eye and audacious mind Invade the temple of each god. " He has read his scroll in the rocks, He has read his doom in the sun. At the impossible he mocks. 6 THE WINNING GAME He rends the veil and he scorns the locks Till his appointed day be done, And he shall abide his doom, "When he and his triumphs, swathed in mould, Hearsed in a planet dead and cold, Ride through the ages to their tomb." And a Voice answers, though no form is seen, — The voice of one strong, happy, and serene. Or soon, or late, that voice must still be heard ; Calm and secure she taketh up the word : " Over the marshes brown, Over the creeping river. There where he silent glides along Or joins with the breeze in rippling song, Wrestling with Father Ocean ever. On the boles of ancient trees Once the home of Dryades, Now green-swathed by the Naiades, Lies a labyrinthine span Iron-shod for ways of man. " There in the iron cavern's mouth, Reeking smoke and black with grime, By gleam of mail under the sun. By glowing eye when day is done See thy swart genii girt to run, Conquerors of Space and Time. " Sinew of steel and lungs of brass, Urged by the elemental flame, THE WINNING GAME Fed on the black rocks from the mine, The round Earth's juice for their cup of wine, Waiting the word to hurl the mass Of Man and Matter, of joy and shame. That like a meteor shall pass The wild and the haunts of toiling man. Thy mighty works, O Century, scan. Right proud thou art, and well may'st be. And yet perchance 't were well for thee The scene with other eyes to see. " Where from yon dusky cave Dark gleaming steel and dull red glow Thy fleet and fire-breath'd monsters show, Hark to that paean brave ! Is it they that sing and pant and feel ? Can life inform the cold grey steel ? In those black bulks can earthly fire Wake power and purpose and desire ? Ah no, a viewless power within. Old as the planet, yet new born, Making her round in God's great field, Her helping hand to Man doth yield And his poor engines doth not scorn. " See where, born of thin water and red flame. Yon nymph in lowly incarnation, Intense with glorious power in softest form. And singing high her strident song of joy. Comes rushing viewless from the cauldron's throat, And, at the touch of her cool sister Air, THE WINNING GAME For sweeter silence drops her ringing song And ere she parts into the upper void Doffs graciously her garb invisible, Caressing her dark Titan lovingly In Naiad form, that he and all may see. And with a kiss she melts into the blue. But ever in the blue she bides her time, Dons her grey mantle, sweeps down in the rain, In the still river seeks the haunts of man. Joins with her sister Fire, and for man's help Lends life unto his uncouth work again, Rounding one circle of her magic life. " Her viewless power withdrawn, that Titan bulk Appalling with a planet-rush but now. More helpless than the ocean-stranded hulk, Scares not the sparrow from the bough. That fleeting life for aye goes on. Old as the light, but young as the new day, No instant tarries when work is done — A lift — a gleam — and it is gone, Through universe and planet ranging. Form and home forever changing, Speeding joyous on its way, An instant glory in its passing seen, A leajD, a light, its mightier form between Illuminating, blessing, blasting, Sire and son and race outlasting. In birth, in growth, in act, in thought, in dream, In love, in light, in death's, or beauty's gleam. THE WINNING GAME 9 " Strive this power to detain, Even in godlike human mould, All thy love and longing vain, Proteus-like it slips thy hold, From thy firm grasp elusive glides — But the wrought miracle abides. " But deem not, if perchance the power Stoop from the aether for an hour To speed the way and ease the lot Of prince in palace, clown in cot. That Speed and Comfort are the goal Can satisfy thy heaven-lent soul. Whither away ? what speed they then to do ? Look down upon that hurrying brood In yon fair city's ways, then tell me true Pursuers ? or pursued ? " Is it for greed and din and strife Thou wilt for Man from Time redeem More of the unguided life, Whirled like an insect down the stream ? Shall haughty Man hail for his chief and lord The busybody, of the god abhorred ? Nay, the triumph over Time He shall win who still would climb Above the turmoil of the mart A breathing-space to sit apart. Who from the deafening din his ear. From blinding dust his eye would clear. Shall justly weigh the near and far, 10 THE WINNING GAME Nor let the mote eclipse the star. Him the near bauble shall not blind To the dread weight slow piling up behind, Nor shall he know the day of doom When the sure overpoise shall come, The fatal scale shall fall. Welcome to him shall ever be The guardians of his destiny, Clear-eyed Honor, Reverence, Shame, And elder gods without a name, Keepers of the sacred bounds That stay the Furies in their rounds." Gone is the time When wrath and guile in the wild Saurian strife O'er weaker wrecks to savage life Shall climb ; For in fair form from a blind monad come The soul of man hath found a home Sublime. And be thou sure The better shall endure ; Yet in life's struggle it shall be no sin To play the game to win — What is it for man to win ? Answer, ye crowding memories of this hall ! One stern and noble scene shall stand for all On Rappahannock's banks in fancy stand When chill December lowers o'er the land. THE WINNING GAME 11 Oh, cold and grey the river-swirls Look to the columns marching down, And deep and dangerous it whirls Between them and the rebel town. And hark ! upon the long pontoons In broken step, for so 't is meet, Uncheered by brazen trumpet-tunes The multitudinous trampling feet. And now above the river banks Look where the gallant lines deploy. Ah, many a soldier in those ranks How few months since was deemed a boy ! The time is come ; and while the shell Hot from the batteries scream o'erhead, Up the bare slope bravely and well The long blue lines are swiftly led. Not wise in war, ah, youth is sure One valiant rush can gain the wall Whence grim battalions all secure Pour in thick rain the deadly ball. One valiant rush — and the blue line Withers before the fiery rain, Yet gather 'neath their country's sign, To charge again, — and yet again. 12 THE WINNING GAME Though ruddy life still fills their veins, Though Hope and Love alike say Nay, One last, best privilege remains, Their desperate honor — to obey. Lit with swift gleams, the dead, white smoke Climbs 'gainst the dull December sky. Cold, silent, on the russet slope, — Yes, in their ranks, the blue-coats lie. In one brief hour the hero stood revealed ; Calm are the brows once bent upon the foe. For us the clay-cold lips forever sealed, Yet through the ages ringing clear and low An echo from an angel-guarded grave Comes : If I lose myself, myself I save. Ours is a day of peace ; the sleeping sword May vainly wait the stern, awakening word. Is ours a day of peace ? Ah, think again. The soldier's course was bright and brief and plain. Beneath his flag, his weapon in his hand, The foe before, he waited the command. Before the winnowing blast of war The chaff of life fled fast and far ; For in the forest, strange and murk and damp, Far from home and far from camp, Where on the lonely picket-line He prayed and waited for a sign, A boyish dream returned, and all was plain, Hig former life remote and dim and vain ; THE WINNING GAME 13 Honor and duty shone in his clear eyes, Well worth a brief life's sacrifice. But we — our lives are far From serried ranks of war, Yet in the passing life Find ever-shifting strife Wherein no blue or grey shall show The loyal friend, the open foe. Where floats the star-wrought banner of our land ? No rallying-sign ? In scattered groups we stand Facing each new guerrilla band. Conspiring Greed, upon the helpless fed. Or Toil's brave sons by Villainy misled, Or idle fops, by wealth and wandering crazed, Restoring bounds our wiser fathers razed. The dust and clamor of the street Shut out the Pleiads' influence sweet, And for we see in many a lair A crouching form, shall we despair ? Laugh at Despair. What hath he ever done ? Hope, and Effort, son of Hope, These alone with Fate can cope, Alike by life or death have won. Void of conscience deem thou not Those who in their toiling lot Still pursue the things that seem. While the tribes shall rise and fall On the flower-embroidered ball, Hundreds toil for what shall perish, Yet above all love and cherish 14 THE WINNING GAME Him who, forgotten and alone, Their shghted task for them hath done. The gods — speak they no more ? When unto thee at noon shall come Word from the captive in the mine That the broad sun hath ceased to shine And thou for his thy faith resign, Believe the oracles are dumb. The miracles forever come, And, oft unheeded, as of yore. The saints to-day stand at thy door. The seeming Real to dust may fall, What is most real, least seen of all Until the new-born eyes be given. Blind to the bound 'twixt earth and heaven. Then, Soul, forget not in thy day Of hurried toil, of eager play. To look on Life's astounding dower. The wealth that shall abide, The crowded splendor of the instant hour, The gods that walk beside.