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GERTRUDE 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 RUTH WARD KAHN. 
 
 "Tis not indeed my talent to engage, 
 In lofty trifles, or to swell my page. 
 With wind and noise." — Dryden. 
 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
?^l$^ 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 
 DR. LEE KAHN. 
 
 He who encourages my every effort, and 
 applauds my every success ; who fills my life 
 with happiness, and my heart with melod}' ; 
 I dedicate this little volume, partly as a token 
 of my affection ; partly for the pleasure of 
 connecting my work with his name. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Many months ago I was struck by the beauty 
 of that beautiful classic, Agamemnon's Daugh- 
 ter. I had read it many times before, but on this 
 occasion its beauty unfolded itself to me in a 
 strange way; the appropriateness of the ex- 
 amples; the classic purity of the author; the 
 justness of the sentiment; and last of all, the 
 variety of expression sowed the seed, which 
 has taken root — this is the fruit. 
 
 For the sentiments scattered through this 
 work I offer no apology, although I am aware 
 that they will not coincide with the views of 
 many fully competent to decide on its liter- 
 ary merits. I write not to please or displease 
 any person or persons; but I have written 
 according to the dictates of my own mind, 
 and which will, I trust, meet with the appro- 
 bation of those whose good opinion I am 
 anxious to obtain. As to the rest, I throw 
 my work on the indulgence of the public, 
 with the assurance that I have utilized every 
 endeavor to deserve their approbation, and I 
 trust I shall not make an appeal to their can- 
 dor in vain. 
 
 Leadville, Colo., July 19, 1891. ^ 
 
Copyrighted, 1891 
 
 Bloch Publishing & Printing Co. 
 Chicago and Cincinnati. 
 
GERTRUDE. 
 
 Fai- in the North imbedded lies a bay, 
 
 Around whose chilly marge the tempests rave, 
 
 And lash its forests dark of savagery; 
 
 Upon this lonely shore a solitary cave 
 
 Holds down its rugged mouth to touch the wave, 
 
 That sends into the deep recess a moan 
 
 Of countless billows, which the lintel lave 
 
 Or swell to kiss the dome of drooping stone. 
 
 One narrow heaving path of watery flow 
 From Hudson leads into that far-off place. 
 Whereby an English ship would sometimes go. 
 And break the silence of the vasty space. 
 But soon would flee in fear of savage race; 
 Or if a vessel ran into the grot. 
 All perished there unseen and left no trace: 
 Thus Hudson was to all a fearful spot. 
 
 Here were the huts by eldest Indians built, 
 With pillars dropped from Nature's ceiling down; 
 Upon its altar human blood was spilt, 
 Unto an idol there in stony gown. 
 An ugly idol with a horrid frown, 
 That loved to see the victim in his gore, 
 Or watch him in the angry billows drown; 
 A cruel goddess she who held the shore. 
 
Within the cave asleep a maiden lay, 
 
 Gertrude the outcast had been hither borne, 
 
 While yet she slept. She woke, and sought the day 
 
 But saw dim fog light on a world forlorn; 
 
 The heart dropped in her breast to see that morn, 
 
 No columns wrought upheld in joy her soul, 
 
 She only saw huge rocks by water worn, 
 
 No sunny temple, but a dark dank hole. 
 
 Such was the change from her fair Jewish honle, 
 No trailing vineyard waved within her look. 
 With leaves and vines that over hillsides roam, 
 With Bacchus garlanded along the brook. 
 While maids from trees the golden fruitage shook. 
 Or did in merry song ripe clusters cull. 
 Here must she remain in this lonely nook 
 Because she was unchaste, undutiful. 
 
 The apple, pride of fruit and green, 
 
 Rose not, the very tree of Eve so wise; 
 
 The sunshine came but not with the soft sheen 
 
 That glows within the liquid English skies. 
 
 And falls on sea and land a paradise: 
 
 No smiling sunlike rays of yellow corn 
 
 Shot up to greet the glad festivities, 
 
 And wrapped the earth in endless golden morn. 
 
 The howl was heard of savage roaming beast. 
 Above the endless sough of forest drear, 
 Each preyed on each from largest to the least; 
 The lion in his hunt would straggle near. 
 His bloody trail would print the stones with fear; 
 The falcon in the skies would claw the dove, 
 The cruel pard below would tear the deer. 
 The eagle clove the hare, then soared above. 
 
Wild were the beasts, and wilder yet the men, 
 Of whom a savage rout sprang out the wood, 
 And hurried to the fane through tangled fen, 
 A shaggy fell hung round the body nude, 
 They howled in savage dance and gestures rude, 
 While in their midst a prisoner was bound; 
 Expecting death he oft in terror stood, 
 Or oft was fiercely dragged along the ground. 
 
 Vet once from his tormenters he did leap, 
 And fled away as fleet as any deer, 
 And sprang into the sea far down a steep; 
 The maiden looked with sympathetic fear, 
 To her at once the wretched man drew near; 
 She hoped he might escape, but he was caught, 
 W' hereat within her eye beat up the tear, 
 As she on him, and on herself too, thought. 
 
 Him struggling to that very fane the bore, 
 .A sacrifice to Manitou to pay, 
 lliey saw what they have never seen before, 
 A maiden put herself within their way; 
 She bade them not the guiltless captive slay. 
 But offered them herself instead of him; 
 Blood ceased to flow on Indian shrines that day, 
 And reverence did soften bosoms grim. 
 
 One was there, of all that region king; 
 Who kept his people back by his strong word, 
 When he beheld the maiden oftering; 
 By her one look his heart was strangely stirred. 
 Then by her gentle hand he was deterred; 
 Awe seized him, as in her, the gods above 
 He saw, and then a deeper note he heard; 
 The awe divine began to whisper — love. 
 
But she who once a life of shame was spared ^ 
 
 She must now others save in sorer need; 
 
 And then she dares what man has seldom dared, 
 
 An offering for her own kind to bleed ; 
 
 It is the consecration of her deed, 
 
 Good done to her she will hencefort repeat, 
 
 Until it is become her life and creed, 
 
 And every day her death she'll dare to meet. 
 
 She is to tame to peace those bosoms wild, 
 And make them lose their mad delight in blood; 
 It is her task to put spirit mild 
 Into the very soil whereon she stood, 
 And make it bear her image of the good; 
 When she the fierce barbarian hath won, 
 Vengeance no more shall be his daily food, 
 He shall forever do as she hath done. 
 
 Yet longed she for her own dear native land, 
 Fair England far away, which had her slain 
 In its own thought, yet 'twas her father's oath 
 When she first stained his spotless name; 
 And now the long long years she must remain 
 Within this savage wilderness, 
 Busy until her time be come again; 
 Yet could she not the bitter tear suppress. 
 
 "How heavy o'er me hang these leaden skiesl 
 
 Oh where is sunshine, where my own fair clime, 
 
 And its fair works that everywhere uprise 
 
 In splendor on the land and sea sublime! 
 
 The song and dance of youths in golden prime, 
 
 Labors of men, the sowing of the seed, 
 
 The forms of Gods far looking down on Time, 
 
 The heroes great, and the heroic deed! " 
 
"It is a gloomy land, a savage brood, 
 
 Where I must pass my youthful holiday; 
 
 The people know nought of the fair and good. 
 
 And from all human feeling turn away, 
 
 They kill themselves and me perchance will slay, 
 
 Yet I have now to change them by my life; 
 
 Yes, home is here I feel and I must stay. 
 
 And bring a world of peace out of the strife." 
 
 "The time has come another home to make 
 In new-born hope spring from this weary wild; 
 I shall both for its own and for my sake 
 Transform it daily to the image mild 
 Which hath on men from England ever smiled ; 
 I think the apple may be hither brought, 
 Though of our sunny skies it be the child. 
 But surely works of hand may here be wrought,' 
 
 "The labors of the oxen at the plow 
 
 Are first to tame to peace the savage earth; 
 
 In brotherhood the horse, the sheep, and cow. 
 
 Shall gather round the human hearth, 
 
 And even brutes receive their higher worth; 
 
 This horrent waste I see rise up before 
 
 All others hitherto in a new birth: 
 
 'Twill be what England is, it shall be more." 
 
 So flashed afar in dreams her shadowy thought: 
 More than what England hath she will impart 
 Unto that savage folk; it will be taught 
 A deeper beauty and a holier art, 
 Which is the inner flow of human heart; 
 The people will to nobler regions rise; 
 Her deed her life become their highest part, 
 She will endow them with her sacrifice. 
 
The bound of England she will break, 
 And make all men before the English pale; 
 The gentile hate in her shall have all end, 
 When her new spirit shall in love prevail. 
 And free this savage world from its own jail. 
 Old England, too, shall share her blessing great, 
 The old dislike she sweeps from hill and dale, 
 For her people dear she breaks down fate. 
 
 And there she stayed for twenty years 
 
 With that sole purpose in her sincere breast; 
 
 She moved through troubled seas of hopes and fears. 
 
 Still on she went in faith with all her zest, 
 
 And never failed to think and do her best; 
 
 The people came to see her from afar, 
 
 They went away with her high soul possessed. 
 
 And to her looking up as to a star. 
 
 The noisome grot she turned to temple fair, 
 With columns white that stood along the seas. 
 And saw their limpid beauty imaged there. 
 With wavy architrave and flowing frieze, 
 And sculptured shapes of hquid deities; 
 The ugly idol rose no more to view. 
 The Indian shrine no bloody death decrees. 
 The chief ess is herself transformed, too. 
 
 With her are all the Indians' idols changed. 
 
 Into fresh founts of mild beatitude. 
 
 By a new inner sun their looks are warmed. 
 
 Not now the ugly Indian monster rude, 
 
 Whose stony frown was with cold death bedewed, 
 
 But the sweet maiden now is throned above. 
 
 The haughty chief who sought the stranger's blood, 
 
 Who now looks up to Venus, seat of Love. 
 
And Plenty, too, sought in that land a home, 
 Where she could sow broadcast her fruitful seed. 
 Which springs on heights or low in valleys loam. 
 Wherewith she might the teeming millions feed. 
 And no one in her bounty suffer need; 
 The cattle grazed on every hill in peace, 
 Through endless plains of pasture roamed the steed, 
 The mother earth gave forth her full increase. 
 
 And all the land was filled with gardens sweet, 
 Which Gertrude made her favored dwelling place; 
 There stood fair boys of bronze that moved their feet, 
 And steeds of stone that ran the swiftest race, 
 And tripods moving to and fro with grace; 
 Within each brazen breast there breathed new life. 
 The fiercest struggle calmed in marble face, 
 That told the woes of Jew and Gentile strife. 
 
 The maiden taught the labors of the loom, 
 
 In which her own strange life she deftly wove. 
 
 Her youth's deep dream and then her sudden doom; 
 
 Her web could tell how the great heroes strove, 
 
 Revealed her deed of shame her deed of love, 
 
 Her Jewish life she did therein unfold, 
 
 How it flowed on within the plan of Jove: 
 
 In gold and purple threads the tale was told. 
 
 She tells anew the Jewish histories. 
 The mighty jests of great Disraeli, 
 Yet coupled with the saddest destinies. 
 How highest action holds the deepest groan. 
 And greatness, is but suffering alone; 
 The hero vanquished ruler of the Eas,t, 
 Who made the English world his own. 
 Then senseless roamed the fields as any beast. 
 
But of the many wondrous tales she told, 
 
 The chief was legends of King Solomon, 
 
 The mighty darling of romances old, 
 
 Who had to labor through all lands and seas, 
 
 Until the earth of his fierce foes he frees; 
 
 He drained the bog, the mountain way he rent. 
 
 He turned the rivers, felled the forest tx-ees, 
 
 Through him this earth was made man's instrument. 
 
 The wildest beasts, the wildest men he tamed. 
 
 When Columbia her wilderness did shed, 
 
 And the first law for human dwelling framed ; ' 
 
 But when he over every land had sped, ' 
 
 And bravely freed it of its monsters dread. 
 
 He must descend to Hades, free it too. 
 
 Of damned angels who guard the wretched dead: 
 
 Both worlds, above, below he did pass through. 
 
 To the barbarians the myth she sings, 
 
 Which they take up and sing in their own tongue 
 
 Through all the distant realms of icy kings. 
 
 Beside the Northern seas and up among 
 
 The frosty blasts, whence Boreas is flung 
 
 Upon the South, where scarce the sun will shine; 
 
 Deep unknown rivers float the strains there sung, 
 
 And bards chant them and will till end of time. 
 
 The children of the farthest forest plain. 
 Catch up the echo of the Jewish lay. 
 And warp and weave it in their Indian tongue. 
 That floats around the frozen Hudson Bay, 
 And warps itself in misty folfls of gray. 
 Far, far beyond the sunny Southern skies, 
 Where now Columbia sleeps her time away. 
 And where in might hereafter she will rise. 
 
In magic spell of strange barbaric measures, 
 Are hymned those Hebrew fables never trite; 
 And all the storied world of Jewish treasures 
 Is richly there inlaid with fancies bright, 
 That flash and soar in new poetic flight. 
 Though they still keep their first Jewish soul; 
 The ancient germ doth now unfold to light, 
 And its deep hidden wealth in time unroll. 
 
 The lay of Gertrude far resounded then, 
 
 And still resounds afresh through all those lands; 
 
 It weaves its magic chain in souls of men, 
 
 And. holds them tranced in its fine golden bands 
 
 Which seem to grow life's very strands; 
 
 The oldest song, and yet the latest too, 
 
 It bears the human and divine commands, 
 
 True in that elder world and in this new. 
 
 Ah me, could I but catch one straying shred 
 Of that sweet strain and fix it in my fine. 
 As it comes floating down to music wed, 
 I, the girlish singer might now shine 
 And call my sisters all the muses nine. 
 But one is born too late aye or too soon; 
 'Tis all the same without the Hght divine, 
 To watch at night or go to bed at noon. 
 
 She shows how each is to regard the other, 
 
 Deeper than difference is unity. 
 
 That man is to behold in man his brother. 
 
 And bind him to himself in kindred tie; 
 
 Hers is the golden word of charity. 
 
 Which stops the hate of men the war of nations, 
 
 Which melts to one the human family, 
 
 And interlinks the future generations. 
 
 13 
 
Many a foreigner she did there save 
 From wretched wreck along the rugged coast, 
 When he had strayed too far upon the wave; 
 She heard there too of perished hosts, 
 And wanderings of gentiles tempest tossed; 
 But she was deeply filled with other thought: 
 Jew or Gentile if he were lost, 
 In one great deed of love to save she sought. 
 
 And then she would transform him to her life, 
 She lights herself into the hearts of all, 
 Whereby she puts an end to mortal strife, 
 'Tween Jew and Gentile stood an awful wall, 
 Which she tore down and laughed to see it fall.' 
 She did no lands lay waste, no towns destroy, 
 She gave to all her friendship magical. 
 With it she held, and saves each man and boy. 
 
 Band after band of maidens there she trained. 
 Whom to the deepest wilderness she sent; 
 Of hardship, toil, and death they never plained, 
 They spurned their home and welcomed banishment; 
 For savage men and child their lives were spent, 
 To whom they bore the lamp of their great school; 
 Into the frozen, fiery zone they went. 
 And burst upon the shore of heathen rule. 
 
 These women were the greatest conquerors. 
 Theirs, too, the lasting victory has been, 
 Though it was never gained in cruel wars. 
 The bloody cutting sword was not their mean. 
 They used a brighter weapon and more* keen. 
 Their mind it was by which this deed was done; 
 They wrapped the earth in zones of mental sheen, 
 To make the wide world one and keep it one. 
 
How all the people loved her, called her blest! 
 Her as a goddess they would fain adore, 
 She ever called up in them what was best; 
 The chief was the man who loved her more 
 Than any other on the Indian shore; 
 A noble man, and a yet nobler king, 
 ■Of ruler's virtues he possessed the store. 
 He sought, like her to be an offering. 
 
 The days roll on, the mighty years roll on, 
 
 Devotion in him suffers a slow change, 
 
 No longer awe of her religion 
 
 He feels, but to a transformation strange 
 
 He falls, which doth his life and hers derange; 
 
 The chief now loves her with a lover's love, 
 
 Into his bride he will the maiden change, 
 
 And from her maiden destiny will move. 
 
 Ill royal suit she day by day is pressed, 
 Which she must meet by craft, a trial new 
 That bears the deepest discord in her breast; 
 Her heart by double duty cut in two 
 She feels; to Truth the first she must be true. 
 Yet to her mission true; if she deceive 
 The chief, it will her very life undo. 
 Yet her last destiny she cannot leave. 
 
 Suspicion hides itself in high born breasts. 
 The chief begins to change his confidence; 
 The burden of his heart gives him no rest. 
 In every act of hers he sees offense. 
 Even her good he notes as insolence, 
 The savage, long suppressed, begins to burn. 
 To cruel thoughts are changed his new intents, 
 To ancient savage times he will return. 
 
One day he sends his trusty messenger, 
 
 Demanding answer to be brought forthright; 
 
 Again she seeks her pretext to defer, 
 
 And turns her step to hasten out of sight 
 
 Into the fane, when suddenly in might 
 
 The chief appears, and wrathful to her speaks; 
 
 As if he had a battle there to fight. 
 
 His eyes flash vengeance which the savage wreaks: 
 
 "Thy subtle Jewish craft will do no good, 
 Thy answer on the morrow I must have; 
 For thee I stopped the flow of human blood, 
 J from the gory altar thee did save 
 When savages did fiercely round thee rave, 
 I made thee greatest power in my state, 
 Thy power through my world I to thee gave: 
 But now I feel my love turn into hate. 
 
 "The wild man's heart once more begins to rise, 
 My deadly foe shall be again the white. 
 Vengeance comes back, within I hear its cries 
 To rash its claws into thy visage meek; 
 Thy labors to undo is what I seek. 
 Ingratitude I shall repay to thee, 
 A maddened savage I revenge shall wreak, 
 This altar's victim now thou art to be." 
 
 In rage he turns away, she doth appeal 
 Once more unto her Father at His shrine: 
 "Oh, Israel, thou who didst in light reveal 
 Thyself to me, and take me to be thine, 
 Didst make thy very ministry be mine 
 And promise me return to my dear land, 
 Me, fragile bearer of thy plan divine, 
 Oh help me execute thy high command. 
 
"Oh God of mine, to thine own love enthrall 
 This noble man's savage love, I pray. 
 Which seeks me for itself and not for all, 
 Immortal thou, beam out my mortal day. 
 That he, through passion, rise to thy dear clay. 
 Be not deaf, I pray, to my appeal 
 Let me not throw myself away — 
 But let me feel all thou would have me feel." 
 
 While thus she prayed, far out at sea a ship 
 Was seen to struggle through the plunging wave; 
 Deep in the watery chasm it would dip, 
 Then from the top of highest surge it drave, 
 'Till scarce its keel the madding floods would lave; 
 Again would sink and almost disappear. 
 Then rise and rear in air from its wet grave. 
 While ever to the land it drev/ anear. 
 
 In steady strife with that wild element 
 
 The oarsmen long had beat the sullen brine; 
 
 But now they many feverish glances sent 
 
 To see what on the shore might give a sign; 
 
 They saw around them rise a walled line 
 
 Of sea-smit rock on which they read their doubt. 
 
 Oft had they heard it was a land malign, 
 
 Still pulled they on, and dared with bosoms stout. 
 
 From far off England they had hither come; 
 They took to ship at Bristol in the bay 
 Where many years agone a troubled hum 
 Of men would o'er the waters aimless stray; 
 But this ship westward cut its lonely way. 
 And passed fair London lofty on the left, 
 Where happy gods dwell in eternal day. 
 And of the song and feast are never reft. 
 
Two Hebrew youths were sitting on the deck, 
 The one did seem to guide the ship in thought, 
 His face was graven with a fearful wreck. 
 And showed deep netted storm-lines interwrought 
 Into his life, which the rough days had brought. 
 The other let no glance turn from his mate, 
 Affection overflowed his eyes, yet fraught 
 With wearied sorrow, watching long and late. 
 
 Upon them lay their father's stern command. 
 
 For he had bade them the sister find, 
 
 He said she was detained in barbarous land 
 
 At Hudson where she kept her fervent mind . 
 
 To be restored to her beloved kind. 
 
 There to find her they had thought; 
 
 To the wise God's deep meaning they were blind. 
 
 But clearest truth from error dark is wrought. 
 
 Far had they sailed and still must onward sail; 
 Where this land was they did not fully know. 
 They kept by faith along an unseen trail. 
 Until a chilly blast began to blow; 
 The sailors murmured would no farther go. 
 Worn by the seas, they ran into the shore, 
 Although they should be eaten by the foe. 
 They laid down in the sand and quit the oar. 
 
 Not far away a spring flowed down a hill, 
 And peacefully did mingle with the wave; 
 It was a soft yet merry buoyant rill. 
 Which had a speech as it the stones would lave. 
 And e'en of music it would sing a stave, 
 Then fade away into a babbling noise; 
 A word in fond low tone it often gave. 
 Then in the flow of waters lost its voice. 
 
It was of loving nymphs the favored spot, 
 Who the worn stranger with a balm receive, 
 And soon refresh him in their shady grot, 
 Or in the brook their bosoms to him heave. 
 Or sing a strain to which his soul will cleave; 
 To follow up the hill they hire their guest. 
 And with soft notes his footsteps interweave, 
 Strike snatches sweet when he sits down to rest. 
 
 Both youths went up the brook to fields of grain, 
 A garden vast they saw from the high hill. 
 The island hamlets flecked the sun-gilt plain, 
 In seas of verdure herds were lieing still. 
 Or cropped lush grass, or stood within the rill, 
 The yellow grain waved into red-barred skies, 
 Which sent around the world a tender thrill, 
 As playing music of that Paradise. 
 
 Not far away a noble temple stood. 
 
 Which seemed the shining center whence did ray 
 
 All of those glories of sweet plentitude; 
 
 They had to follow but the nearest way 
 
 To come to where the sunny structure lay; 
 
 They entered it, the landscape's very heart, 
 
 To the divinity therein to pray. 
 
 So it might be appeased to take their part. 
 
 And there within uprose a sacred shrine. 
 
 Near which the maiden stood with kindly glance; 
 
 She seemed to shed on all a hope divine. 
 
 Which would the shyest heart perchance 
 
 Embolden to its prayer advance. 
 
 But hark! She speaks true tones of Hebrew sweet, 
 
 Bids them be now at home, and gently grants 
 
 Their dumb request to tell what here they seek. 
 
They answer liquid notes, how sweet the sound! 
 
 She heard again her own childish speech; 
 
 Her home, her youthful -days, her faith she found 
 
 When she in words heart-born her thought could reach, 
 
 And could without barbaric discord teach 
 
 What with her eye, what with her soul she saw. 
 
 And in the purest mother tongue beseech 
 
 The gods, without a stammer or a flaw. 
 
 But a still deeper music struck a note. 
 
 Which tuned Gertrude's very soul into one thought: 
 
 "I cannot tell what makes my fancies float 
 
 Far back to childish things which once I sought. 
 
 What hidden spirit hath upon me wrought, 
 
 That I to this sad youth should feel so near? 
 
 Some destiny hath him unto me brought; 
 
 Him I will ask about my father dear." 
 
 She spake to him of her dear father then, 
 Foreboding by her soul's own magic spell 
 That this young man knew of the best of men, 
 And could the families' latest history tell; 
 That same deep feeling did the youth compel, 
 That he her heart within his own caressed ; 
 But now her speech drooped on him like a knell. 
 Yet he replied thereto with soul sr.ppressed : 
 
 Therewith the lad replied: "My father said, — 
 " 'Bring back from heathen shore thy sister dear, 
 Close by the Northern seas, there thou must steer; 
 Hers is a sacred image, from the skies 
 It fell on me with blest auguries; 
 That land was then a dark and savage land. 
 She let the sunshine in, now bright it lies. 
 And merciful will give a helpinij hand. 
 
" 'Bring back my daughter hence, then it will cool 
 Within my breast my hot avenging blood; 
 She'll now repent for all the laws she brake, 
 And I'll forgive her for her own dear sake; 
 For 'twas her sin that made my doing good. 
 Then will my soul be forever healed, 
 Then the furies will me no more pursue 
 "When at home again she is revealed.' " 
 
 Then Gertrude saw at once the God's intent. 
 His double word to her was one, and clear; 
 She spake in tones of mild admonishment: 
 "Blame not the God before thou rightly hear, 
 Thy mortal speech is not the speech of seer 
 Or God, which thou wilt never understand 
 Until thou see it double, far and near, 
 See future and the past knit in one strand. 
 
 "1 tell thee now what my wise father meant, 
 When he from inmost soul his trouble spake: 
 I am your sister, you are sent 
 To bring me back to those who think me dead; 
 My blood was not by cruel Indians shed, 
 I was not killed, but was saved and brought 
 To this spot, among barbarians dread. 
 Whom fair Humanity I them have taught." 
 
 Not yet was lost the lisp of her last word. 
 When the lad awoke, and to his feet arose. 
 That final healing speech of hers he heard 
 In trance, which was the end of all his woes, 
 To a sweet rest were soothed convulsive throes; 
 A new man from his healthy eyes novy beams. 
 As he up to the holy maiden goes, 
 And to her speaks fulfillment of her dreams. 
 
"Thou art my long dead sister, now I know, 
 
 What I at first but felt dim in my heart; 
 
 With me thy lot it is our home to go, 
 
 And there to thine own land thyself impart, 
 
 Draw from its raging breast the venomed dart, 
 
 For it is truly mad, as I was mad 
 
 With hot revenge; it must be what thou art. 
 
 Be cured like me of having what I had." 
 
 While thus they talk, behold a raving man 
 With violence into their presence breaks; 
 A fit of madness shrieks from visage wan. 
 Fierce grimaces and gestures wild he makes. 
 Each limb, each muscle in his body shakes; 
 The chief it is, already mad with love; 
 But when he sees the boys, anew he quakes 
 For jealousy, and frights the holy grove: 
 
 "Woman, fury, thou art my greatest curse I 
 Thou owest me thy life and influence. 
 Thy purpose newly planted I did nurse, 
 I saved thee from the hand of insolence, 
 I calmed to hope thy fleeting frightened sense, 
 I gave thee love, I gave thee kindly heart; 
 Now I am scorned by thee, reap but offense. 
 And my kind breast is pierced by thy fell dart. 
 
 "Traitress, ingrate, incapable of love. 
 
 False to thy doctrine, in thyself untrue, 
 
 My good thou dost requite with wrong above 
 
 What demons dare; I know what I shall do 
 
 For I see other knavish Jews here too — 
 
 Thy lovers come to carry thee away; 
 
 On ancient Indian altar, all of you, 
 
 I shall as pious debt long due now slay." 
 
The maiden caught his eye and touched his ami, 
 
 Which soon unnerved writhed slowly to his side, 
 
 As if it held itself from doing harm; 
 
 His savage lips did quiver, but not chide. 
 
 Her gentleness o'ervvhelmed him in its tide: 
 
 "O chieftain, friend — what hast thou done almost? 
 
 A storm thy good of years doth override, 
 
 And oh methought I saw thee in it lost." 
 
 "Thy dark reproach I merit not, O king; 
 
 Far more than all thee have I loved and thine. 
 
 For thee I have been here an offering, 
 
 My days I have all given at thy shrine, 
 
 My youthful days which will no more be mine; 
 
 If not my body, to thee my soul I give, 
 
 That is my dearest boon, my part divine, 
 
 By which I hope thou mayst forever live. 
 
 "To mine own hapless land I now am called, 
 To England which me once did immolate. 
 Whereby today it is to guilt enthralled; 
 Barbarian thou has rescued me from fate. 
 And thou must rescue too your native state, 
 If I to thee have taught my highest worth; 
 Thou wilt anew the maiden dedicate, 
 Restoring her to country of her birth. 
 
 "If thou dost truly love and honor me, 
 Thou wilt surrender me to blessedness; 
 If what I am in truth possesses thee, 
 Thou wilt pass by thy right, thy sharp distress, 
 And thine own sacrifice alone wilt press; 
 By keeping me, thou hast me not indeed, 
 By sending me, thou hast me none the less. 
 This is to thee my last, my highest meed. 
 
"If I may not be to my land restore, 
 
 The spirit cries, I shall myself not save; 
 
 If thou detain me on the Indian shore. 
 
 Thy liberator me thou wilt enslave, 
 
 And thou no liberty thyself vi^ilt have; 
 
 It is my time to go. my time just now. 
 
 As long as repentful thoughts my sire doth slave, 
 
 I am not free myself — not free art thou. 
 
 "No family is mine, another law 
 Hath claimed me with its strong behest; 
 No babe with rosy lips will ever draw 
 Its life out of the foun'"ain of my breast, 
 Or lisp to me, of names the tenderest; 
 Of Nature's loss I have to bear the pain, 
 And rise upon it unto duty blest; 
 Another motherhood is there my gain." 
 
 Barbarian chief drops then the ruthful tear, 
 He has received her final blessing too. 
 In giving up what to him is most dear; 
 Yet he will keep of her what is the true. 
 His hasty deed in penitence undo, 
 Whereby in him the last dark savage strand 
 Is struck with Nature and his spirit new 
 Begs now to bear her to her own dear land. 
 
 Her parents seize the fleeting chance. 
 
 To bring her home and to perfect their deed; 
 
 To they will hers and their own worth enhance. 
 
 When they have to the full repaid her meed. 
 
 And in her fealty are ripe to bleed ; 
 
 When placed again upon her ancient seat. 
 
 She too hath won herself, is truly freed, 
 
 And they, completing her, themselves complete. 
 
More ship at England now are brought together 
 
 Than in the olden time to Troy came, 
 
 They had no stress of winds, had no foul weather; 
 
 A greater act, to be of greater fame. 
 
 Than had been all bound up in Gertrude's name; 
 
 And the new gods sent gales, not to decoy, 
 
 Not to avenge in hate a woman's shame, 
 
 Their will is to redeem, not to destroy. 
 
 So act these men in noble gratitude 
 To her who gave to them what was their best. 
 Who changed the jungled earth, the savage rude. 
 Into a land and people that were blest, 
 Obeying human law and God's behest. 
 But now the last and greatest deed is done. 
 Return to England is the final test 
 Whereby Jew and Gentile then are one. 
 
 Her father, the mad Jew, his cure has found. 
 Remorse and anguish him no more pursue; 
 The chief, the wild barbarian, is now sound. 
 His jealous wrath is chastened into rue; 
 Both men are healed, begin their life anew. 
 Their hateful limit they will both erase. 
 Both feel their oneness, have one thing to do. 
 Both sink down at her feet, and there embrace. 
 
 Now Gertrude who had at last returned. 
 Once more in her old English home she dwelt, 
 The deepest lesson of the world had learned. 
 The sharpest pang of human life had felt. 
 The fiercest blow to her own land had dealt; 
 And to her father, though he had forgiven 
 She raised him up and down {reside him knelt 
 And looked up in his face with rue heart-riven. 
 
The tender lines of hidden suffering 
 Wove all their saddest story through her face, 
 But o'er them other lines would gently cling, 
 Which would the sharp, remorseful thought erase. 
 And softly write forgiveness there and grace; 
 So could she quench the very grief she made, 
 Though trouble past would leave for proof its trace; 
 The guilt had fled, but still had left its shade. 
 
 Out of her life there shone calm penitence, 
 With steadfast will her deed yet to atone; 
 Though never more she could have innocence, 
 She still had something gained for what was gone, 
 That to remorse she was not left alone; 
 She had for error won the compensation, 
 She knew the thorny way, the heart-torn moan, 
 And though a sinner great she knew the restoration. 
 
 -.'^.- 
 
LIBRARY OF 
 
 ■H 
 
 CONGRESS 
 
 016 117 774 fl f