THE IVY LEAF 
 
 A BOOK OF COLLEGE AND ALUMN/E 
 POEMS, BY HELEN GRAY CONE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Zbe Unicfterbocfter press 
 1899 
 

Of this limited edition there /lave been printed 
 §00 copies. 
 
 This is No. 
 
THE IVY LEAF 
 
 A BOOK OF COLLEGE AND ALUMNy^ 
 POEMS, BY HELEN GRAY CONE 
 
 Z^ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Cbe IRnicfterbocher press 
 
29583 
 
 Copyright, i8 
 
 HELEN GRAY CONE 
 
 TWO C0P»1ES RECEIVED. 
 
 
 
THE IVY LEAF. 
 
 [Alumnce Song.) 
 
 [Air—" Maryland, My Maryland."] 
 
 SOME praise the pansy's Tyrian dyes, 
 And some the rose's royalty; 
 But more than fairest flower we prize 
 The lovely leaf of loyalty : 
 
 The ivy green, that loves to dare, 
 That 's fain to climb and firm to bear, — 
 Oh, still in every heart we '11 wear 
 The lovely leaf of loyalty ! 
 
 It upward spires and outward spreads, 
 
 And strongly binds though slenderly ; 
 It lifts a hundred fearless heads, 
 It hides the scars all tenderly: 
 
 It crowns with grace, it girds with power, 
 Survives the snow, outlives the flower. 
 And closest clings in stormiest hour, 
 The lovely leaf of loyalty ! 
 
Ubc 1Iv>\? Xeat. 
 
 Then sing the ivy never sere, 
 
 That grows so green and lustily, 
 And wraps the walls forever dear 
 With living mantle trustily ; 
 
 By days to come, by all the past, 
 By hopes that lead, and joys that last, 
 Our faith we plight to hold it fast. 
 The lovely leaf of loyalty ! 
 
THE GOOD SHIP ALMA MATER. 
 
 {Commetucfiiefit Song, i8j6.) 
 
 THE good ship Alma Mater rides at anchor in the 
 bay, 
 With all her colors flj'ing in the summer wind to-day ; 
 For years she stoutly bore us, but now the ocean 's 
 
 past. 
 And in the hoped-for haven she has landed us at last. 
 
 O good ship Alma Mater, we bid farewell to thee ; 
 Stand stately in the harbor, ride queen-like on the sea! 
 May never storm come nigh thee, may never tempest 
 
 make 
 Thy mighty masts to quiver, thine oaken sides to shake. 
 
 O you who sailed before us in the good ship long ago ! 
 We followed where you led us, stars above and sea 
 
 below ; 
 You led us like a beacon that lit the seething foam. 
 You led us like the glitter of a star that pointed home. 
 
4 Ube (5oo& Sbip Hlma /iDater. 
 
 O you who shall come after, we give you all God- 
 speed ! 
 
 Stand by the Alma Mater and serve her at her need ; 
 
 Till you too pass the billows that hold you from the 
 shore, 
 
 Till you too ride at anchor, and plough the waves no 
 more. 
 
 O good ship Alma Mater, a long farewell at last ! 
 
 We 're hopeful for the future, we 're grateful for the 
 
 past. 
 Sail on thro' sunny waters ; with more than lips can 
 
 tell 
 Of sorrow at our parting, we speak the last farewell. 
 
 O good ship Alma Mater, we bid farewell to thee ; 
 Stand stately in the harbor, ride queen-like on the sea ! 
 May never storm come nigh thee, may never tempest 
 
 make 
 Thy mighty masts to quiver, thine oakoi sides to shake ! 
 
THE GODDESS ALMA MATER. 
 {AlunifKX Song, 1S87.) 
 
 THE goddess Alma Mater dwells upon this sacred 
 shore, 
 The goddess great and gracious, whom we serve for- 
 
 evermore. 
 Though far her influence follows to guard us well from 
 
 harms. 
 Yet here her chosen seat is, her chariot and her arms. 
 
 O goddess Alma Mater, thy glorious name we hail! 
 For still the plough thou speedest, and still dost speed 
 
 the sail ; 
 Thy vigor fills our pulses, thy favor still is ours! 
 Thy praise in song be sounded, thine altar crowned 
 
 with flowers ! 
 
 O goddess Alma Mater, more fair than lips can tell. 
 The hail is hardly spoken, ere sounds the new farewell ! 
 We hear the ocean calling, we leave the sacred shore. 
 Yet wheresoe'er we wander, we serve thee evermore ! 
 
 5 
 
6 TLbc (BoDDess Blma riDater. 
 
 O goddess Alma Mater, thy glorious name we hail, 
 Who still dost help the harvest, who still dost grant 
 
 the gale. 
 Whose vigor fills our pulses, whose favor still is ours ! 
 Thy praise in song be sounded, thine altar crowned 
 
 with flowers ! 
 
THE HOUSE OF LOYAL HEARTS. 
 
 (From Birthdays, a poem read in the College Chapel, February [4, 1S75.) 
 
 WITH grateful hearts, this wintry day, 
 We hail our Alma Mater's birth. 
 She was not born when blossomy May 
 
 Had strewn with tender flowers the earth, 
 And skies were blue, and sunlight smiled ; 
 She was old Winter's hardy child. 
 She came in storm, and bided fast 
 Rough February's bitter blast. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 We look to thee with loving eyes, 
 O gentle Mother, kind and wise ! 
 With a full heart we look to thee, 
 Gratefully, gladly, hopefully ! 
 
 We know that in some coming day 
 The faces met around thy knee — 
 
 Fair household group — must pass away ; 
 But in the east or in the west, 
 
 Far from thy face, far from thy smile. 
 
 We own thee, Mother, all the while, 
 7 
 
TL\K Ibouse of Xopal Ibearts. 
 
 As noblest, wisest, truest, best I 
 
 And while of this thy house one stone, 
 
 O Mother, on another stands. 
 Thou always hast a fairer one — 
 
 A mighty house not made with hands, 
 Not framed by all the builders' arts, — 
 A lasting house of loyal hearts ! 
 
LAUS ALM^ MATRIS. 
 
 (Read before the Associate Alumn.'e, Feliruary 14, 1895.) 
 
 THE Alma Mater ! What is she, 
 The winter-born, with heart of spring. 
 To whom this night her children bring 
 In joyous wise a tribute free? 
 
 Fier name upon the lip doth leap : 
 Hast seen her face on any day ? 
 Not I, nor thou ; not one can say 
 
 He felt her mantle's wing-like sweep. 
 
 And is she, then, in very truth ? 
 Or did we weave a lovely lie 
 Through all the golden tapestry 
 
 That made so fair the House of Youth ? 
 
 Great Presence, Motherhood benign. 
 Forgive me that I question thus ! 
 Thy life hath lit the lives of us. 
 
 Thou art, behind the fading sign. 
 
Xaus Blina: /IDatris. 
 
 Thou wast not made of any man ; 
 
 Thine ends we serve ; and all the while, 
 A white Ideal, thou dost smile 
 
 O'er frustrate hope and faultful plan. 
 
 We serve ; judge thou our service blind : 
 The weak forgive, the false destroy. 
 And that thou find'st without alloy 
 
 Firm to thy shining Future bind ! 
 
 For thou shalt live when we are dust. 
 And forward-bending Fancy sees 
 Glad girlhood lean about thy knees, 
 
 With starry eyes of tender trust. 
 
 Brave youthful spirits yet to be ! 
 To-night thy silver feast we hold. 
 But they shall keep the feast of gold, 
 
 And quaff the richer cup with thee ! 
 
 Yet stoop thou, gracious, pure, unseen, 
 Since Love's red cordial fills it up. 
 To kiss the brim, to bless the cup 
 
 Where ivy wreathes the silvern sheen. 
 
 And first, to Him the pledge be passed : 
 For lo, our love to thee must shed 
 
Xaus Bima: /IDatris. 
 
 Its light about his silvering head, 
 Since he hath loved thee, first and last ! 
 
 A thornless garland of the years 
 With filial hands for him we twine. 
 And mingle memories with the wine 
 
 As priceless pearls, and not as tears ! 
 
IN MEMORIAM: 
 LYDIA F. WADLEIGH. 
 
 (Read before the Associate Alumnae, November 3, 1888.) 
 
 COMPANIONS in the fellowship of sorrow ! 
 What shall we say? Our speech weighs all too 
 light ; 
 Fain, fain would we be silent, and attend 
 The voice we shall not hear on any morrow. 
 O Memory, fill the room of our dear friend, — 
 Speak to us thou, for thou wilt speak aright ! 
 
 And suddenly we hear, by Memory's might. 
 The words she loved and spake here in this place, 
 And almost see, by Memory's might, the face 
 Illumined : " WHATSOEVER THINGS ARE TRUE, 
 
 Honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report. 
 If there be any praise, think on these things." 
 O words that as the winged seed have wings. 
 Be fruitful in us ! Fitly do ye sort 
 With this grave time. Thanks, Memory, minister 
 
 12 
 
1In /IDemoriam. 13 
 
 Of gracious comfort ! For to us, who knew, 
 To think on these things is to think on her. 
 
 That thought is triumph. Though we mourn, oh ytt, 
 
 Could we rise out of self, and so forget 
 
 Our need, the vacant chair and the closed door. 
 
 The place that knows her not forevermore, — 
 
 Could we rise out of self, the understrain 
 
 That sounds below the burden of our pain 
 
 Would mount, would swell to one victorious psalm. 
 
 Her life was conquest : therefore strew the palm ! 
 
 F'aithful to many faiths, with one accord 
 
 We praise Thee, O Eternal, All-Adored, 
 
 For Thy strong servant, who abode the shock 
 
 Of wave-succeeding days, 'gainst which shall stand 
 
 No work that any builds upon the sand, 
 
 Fast-rooted in the Right, and firm as rock! 
 
 Yea, we uplift our souls to the vast Source 
 
 And Sea of all man's truth, and love, and force. 
 
 For her whose truth and force the world can speak. 
 
 Whose tenderness none guessed except the weak. 
 
 Behold a type : lo how, in her own land. 
 Arise, far seen, the steadfast, great-heart hills, 
 (Whose strength is God's,) upon the granite based. 
 They loom above us with a calm command, 
 Aloof and stern ; but who their ways have traced 
 
14 Hn /iDemorianu 
 
 Can tell of secret clefts the sunset fills, 
 Clear springs, hid lakes of lilies starry-faced, 
 And, making tenderest hues of heaven their own, 
 Blue harebells trembling from the very stone. 
 
 Oh let the immanent unslackened power 
 
 Of that sincere strong spirit in this hour 
 
 Upon us, be as present argument 
 
 Of those the real things which are not seen ! 
 
 Now our undying reverence and affection, 
 
 And that which, deep in man, makes insurrection 
 
 Against the temporal show with clamors keen, 
 
 Cry out : " She here abides, she doth endure. 
 
 Potent, in whatsoever things are pure, 
 
 And whoso lives in these, shall feel her near! 
 
 But we, who seem to live, — if we be bent 
 
 To follow whatsoever things are base. 
 
 False, trivial, vain, — we are the shadows here, 
 
 Which that true Presence shall with light efface ! " 
 
 Let us go forth, attuned to the fit key 
 By Sorrow's touch. We serve not such as she 
 With one poor hour of honor, and brief tears. 
 But with the service of remembering years. 
 
IN MEMORIAM: 
 WILLIAM WOOD. 
 
 (October 21, 1S95.) 
 I. 
 
 ONE glory is there of the rising sun, 
 Pure, strong, and joyous as a youth who springs 
 With heart elate a noble race to run, 
 
 Hope to his sandals binding fiery wings. 
 
 One glory is there, when the sun alone, 
 Companionless of clouds, goes up on high, 
 
 With royal pace to take his peerless throne. 
 The unflawed sapphire of the noontide sky. 
 
 And yet another glory, oh, and yet 
 
 A tenderer glory than of morn or noon. 
 
 Attends the still hour when the sun doth set. 
 
 And mounts in heaven the white, memorial moon ; 
 
 The moon, that, like remembrance after death. 
 Grows clear, his presence having passed away, 
 
i6 fln /IDemoriam. 
 
 And with increasing radiance answereth 
 His unseen smile, assurance of new day. 
 
 So, smiling as a maiden in a trance, 
 
 She through the heavenly halls doth glide all night, 
 The witness of his living countenance, 
 
 The token of the immortal life of light. 
 
 Oh, not with darkened mind, but overflowed 
 
 With memory's lucent calm, and peace that streams 
 
 O'er all the roughness of the earthly road, 
 
 We muse on death, that is not what it seems! 
 
 We are not cheated with the masking show ; 
 
 We put the sad disguise of shadows by ; 
 There are who live so deep, we inly know, 
 
 Sharing the only Life, they cannot die! 
 
 II. 
 
 And such was he, our kind familiar friend. 
 Of reverend presence and of gracious mien, 
 
 For whose dear sake to-day we fain would blend 
 The Scottish heather with our emblem green. 
 
 In him encroaching Time had never part; 
 
 Not fourscore winters, with their silvery snows. 
 Could chill romance, warm-rooted in his heart ; 
 
 His age rejoiced, and blossomed as the rose! 
 
ITu /IDcmoriam. 17 
 
 And his the fairy-gift of jewelled speech ; 
 
 For still with those his daily converse ran. 
 The bay-crowned company, whose songs can teach 
 
 The secret of eternal youth to man. 
 
 And still he fought our Alma Mater's fight 
 Against the lance of every evil tongue, 
 
 And wore her favor, and was known her knight, 
 And deemed her ever faultless, fair, and young. 
 
 Oh, whatsoe'er of lasting bronze we rear 
 This day, with pious and most fit intent 
 
 That in this place his semblance shall appear. 
 These walls themselves are his best monument ! 
 
 Thoughts are the high originals of things; 
 
 The shaping spirit hath imperial scope ; 
 There 's not a brick to which our ivy clings 
 
 But first was fashioned by his dreaming hope. 
 
 For this we thank him ; but we thank him most 
 For all he was, and for his dauntless cheer, 
 
 As, looking seaward from our earthly coast, 
 He faced the unknown deep without a fear. 
 
 The talisman of his remembrance ours. 
 
 We tread with braver step the ways he trod. 
 
 And see, in desert age, a field of flowers, 
 In death, a voyage piloted of God ! 
 
AN ODE FOR THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVER- 
 SARY OF THE BIRTH OF HORACE MANN, 
 MAY 4, 1896. 
 
 I. 
 
 HOW many memories dignify the Days! — 
 The Days, that in their endless, even march 
 
 Beneath heaven's azure arch, 
 Turn each a well-known face, a friendly gaze 
 Upon us as we pass, and smile with eyes 
 
 We learn to recognize. 
 'T is meet, indeed, we pause in our own ways. 
 
 Saluting such majestic Days 
 As wear, in each imperishable crown, 
 The captain-jewel of some fair renown ! 
 When breaks one February morn, 
 We say: " This day our more than Prince was born. 
 That soul august, whose word and deed still show 
 
 As pure as crystals of the snow." 
 A sense of Shakespeare sweetens April through ; 
 Save for that one grave sunrise, when 't is said, 
 While the East floods with sacrificial red. 
 
 And the great light spreads wide, 
 
 " On this Day — Lincoln died ! " 
 
Bjmiversar^ ®&e. 19 
 
 'T is meet, indeed, we pause and bow the head, 
 
 And loose the burden of the hour, 
 And from the undying life of great men dead 
 Breathe in the fiery faith whose gift is power. 
 
 II. 
 
 In such fit pieties, forget not we 
 
 God's worker in the dark, whose broadcast seeds, 
 
 Quickening in alien soil, spring not in deeds 
 
 Distinct, associate with his name. 
 
 God's worker in the dark ? What man is he 
 
 If not the Teacher? Other toilers claim 
 
 Their meed — -the travail of their souls at last 
 
 Behold, rejoicing, and are satisfied ; 
 
 Their faithful labors past, 
 
 Lo ! the thing done appears, a joy, a pride. 
 
 Earth's voices aye the Soldier's name repeat : 
 
 The proud traditions of his deeds shall run 
 
 Through all familiar talk of sire and son. 
 
 As scarlet poppies, through the kindly wheat, 
 
 Flame on the fields he won : 
 
 And Clio, bending, whispers in his ear : 
 
 " Great Captain, thy good fight 
 
 Hath laid the stone aright : 
 
 On such a base the soaring shaft we rear, 
 
 » 
 
 Till, crowning all, appear 
 A golden Freedom glorious in the light ! " 
 
20 anniversary ©&e. 
 
 The Poet sings — and lo, the song ! It glows, 
 One form of beauty more, one more full rose 
 On the old stem of Time, 
 Renewing the world's prime: 
 Nay, every craftsman, shaping wood or stone, 
 May call the actual end he sees, his own : 
 The Teacher, the Inspirer, only he 
 Must sow in uplands eye can never see. 
 And reap not of the best that he hath sown. 
 Nor can we change, by any wreath we weave, 
 This " hard condition, twin-born " with his task : 
 We grant him praise ; but praise he would not ask, 
 Predestinate to give, not to receive ; 
 Elect of love, his very soul to give ; 
 By faith, not sight, to labor and to live- 
 By faith, the evidence of things not seen. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet grant the praise, yet weave the chaplet green, 
 
 Ah yet, though not for meed, 
 For reverence' sake and our own spirits' need. 
 Laud we the Masters, shapers of mankind, 
 From that sweet, subtle Greek who wrought with mind 
 As works the skilful potter with his clay, 
 To him whose memory marks this vernal day. 
 Behold that goodly company, the line 
 Who knew the vital joy, and urgency divine, 
 
Hnniversarv? ®^e. 21 
 
 Which Chaucer, pratth'ng in his spring-time speech 
 As close to Nature as the chirp of birds, 
 Summed in the simple words: 
 " And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach " ! 
 A goodly company ; but goodliest three: 
 
 Comenius, who first urged the human claim, 
 And set the pitch of harmonies to be. 
 
 While round him Europe surged with swords and 
 flame ; 
 Next that great-hearted Swiss, who bravely laid 
 Rejected stone to stone, and slowly made 
 A temple out of failures, living Love 
 The perfect light thereof ; 
 Last, he who found the key 
 To childhood's garden, where the unconscious flowers 
 Thank him with smiles through all their sunny hours. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now behold him rise. 
 The silvered head, the gentle smile and wise, 
 The eyes that burn with that still sacred fire 
 
 Of never-quenched desire 
 
 To serve and save the race : 
 Our countryman, by that spare, earnest face, 
 Where gravity and humor seem to blend, 
 
 And patience without end, 
 Such as he needs who sees a world to mend. 
 
22 Bniuversar\? ©&e. 
 
 Oh ! for that soul sincere bring modest praise, 
 
 Choice-culled, and temperate phrase. 
 Him no unmeasured terms could please, 
 
 Who showed the right New England strain, 
 
 Keen, reticent, and sane. 
 He loved not praise ; he knew not ease ; 
 No poor ambition, but the spirit's stir 
 
 Impelled him like a spur. 
 Our countryman, by that dear dream we share — 
 That no child born to breathe the blessed air 
 That kisses while it waves our flag of stars, 
 Shall, birdlike, hurl his soul against the bars, 
 
 Or sink in dulness of despair; 
 But all be free of regions pure and fair. 
 Being bred as fits the Past's inheritors. 
 And lords of the vast Future's untried shores. 
 
 V. 
 
 So have we loosed the burden of the hour; 
 So have we stood to see the Day go by. 
 
 And craved her gift of power: 
 And she hath turned on each a searching eye. 
 Saying: " What, then, art thou, 
 Binder of chaplets for a true man's brow? 
 Bethink thee: dost thou love such things as he? 
 Dost toil for God and man, or self and meed ? 
 Canst hail him comrade? Peace, then, go with thee 
 
Bnniversarv? ®&e. 23 
 
 Thou hast my gift indeed ! 
 
 Take up the load thou laid'st beside the way, 
 And thou shalt find it as a winged thine. 
 And on the dusty road thy heart shall sing !" 
 
 So, underneath the stars, departs the Day. 
 
THE OLIVE BOUGH. 
 
 A So?ig for the End.* 
 
 I. 
 
 AS when, pursued by some swift Wind and bold 
 Freed from the hollow dark yEolian hold, 
 A cloud across the face of heaven is blown. 
 And sunshine ceases from the fields, as mown 
 By that long shadow sweeping o'er the wold, 
 And the kind world turns cold — 
 So o'er our chosen day 
 Sails now a shadowing cloud that sweeps the sun away 
 
 Our chosen day, to Memory dedicate: 
 
 To Memory, goddess great, 
 A Proserpine that 'mid the dip and swell 
 Of her wide meadows dim with asphodel 
 
 Keeps aye one circle blest 
 Lit with purpureal light unlike the rest : 
 The field of our first youth, as luminous 
 
 * A Memorial Poem, read to the Associate AlumiiiK, June 30, 18S3. 
 
 24 
 
Xlbe ©live Bougb. 25 
 
 Through soberer recollections, as the place 
 Where looked the Dardan on his father's face 
 
 In the land nebulous. 
 The verdure of that valley is Spring's own, 
 Ampler the air — then, limits were not known 
 To us that breathed it ; all that since has been 
 Has its free freshness to our spirits proved. 
 
 Oh circle blest indeed ! 
 Dear, dear the faces that therein have moved, — 
 Sad, sad to know it changelessly decreed 
 We may no more behold them, save therein ! 
 
 II. 
 
 It was men's wont of old, 
 
 Ere spoken was the Vale, deep, threefold, 
 
 From the full heart above the unanswering lip 
 
 Of the bronze urn, in water clear to dip 
 
 A branch, and sprinkle all with pure light spray : 
 
 Or broken bough of bay 
 Or olive called the happy, since it yields 
 
 Fruit in unnumbered fields: 
 For thus they deemed the influence done away 
 Of barren Death, that else a spell might lay 
 On the warm living, subtly to annul 
 Their powers, and strike their fortunes cold and dull. 
 And we, who seek the soul in each old sign, 
 
26 TLbc ©live JSougb. 
 
 Pleased if we may divine 
 Likeness in' difference, Proteus in disguise, 
 And gazing backward with anointed eyes 
 
 Across deep ages and the gulfs of race 
 
 Know yet a brother's face, — 
 We hail, in this the antique olive gray, 
 
 A meaning of to-day. 
 
 III. 
 
 For surely this pale bough, with hoary leaf, 
 Is symbol of one still thought that is ours 
 
 After the fire of grief : 
 Thought not unhappy, fruitful thought, that showers 
 A lustral rain of gentle tears and pure. 
 Breaking the spell of Death, that else were sure 
 
 To chain our living powers. 
 To lock Joy fettered in the frozen breast: 
 The one calm thought, the peaceful thought, THEY 
 REST. 
 
 They rest : brief rest was theirs 
 Ere set of sun, and long and full of cares 
 The laboring day. 'T is now as night, soft night. 
 Descending and enfolding, whereon bright 
 Old hours of toil are shining, sanctified 
 To stars that light and guide ! 
 
TLbc ®\ivc Bouob. 27 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah, not with numbing of one noble hope 
 Turn we from facing Death inexorable, 
 
 But with strong souls and stable ! 
 
 Deep heaven hath surely scope 
 To hold each earnest hour, a jewel new, 
 
 A star to light and guide : 
 And toil, that shears all knotted puzzles through, 
 A stellar sword against the dark descried 
 Shall burn, like Perseus' blade whereby the Gorgon 
 died. 
 
 Far, far the Colchian shores, 
 Weary the mid-sea laboring at the oars, 
 And hard to pass the rough Symplegades : 
 
 But, sail and storm-beat spars 
 And wave-worn rudder pictured all in stars. 
 Shines the ship Argo still above the Southern seas ! 
 
 (By permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.) 
 
THE ACCOLADE. 
 
 A Song foi- the Beginning* 
 
 I. 
 
 NOW filled was all the sum 
 Of serving years, and past, forever past, 
 All duties, all delights, of young esquires : 
 And to the altar and the hour at last, — 
 The hour, the altar, of his dear desires, — 
 Clear-shriven and whitely clad the youth was come. 
 
 II. 
 
 Full many a squire was in that household bred 
 
 To arms and honor and sweet courtesy, 
 
 Who wore that sojourn's fragrant memory 
 
 As amulet in after-battles dread ; 
 
 And meeting in kings' houses joyously. 
 
 Or, wounded, in the sedge beside a lake. 
 
 Such men were bounden brothers, for the sake 
 
 Of the blade that knighted and the board that fed. 
 
 * A Commencement Poem, read to the Graduating Class at Smith 
 College, June i8, 1884. 
 
 28 
 
Xlbe Hccola&e. 29 
 
 III. 
 
 To eastward builded was the oratory : 
 There all the warm spring night, — while in the wood 
 Tlie buds were swelling in the brooding dark, 
 And dreaming of a lordlier dawn the lark, — 
 Paced to and fro the youth, and dreamed on glory, 
 And watched his arms. Great knights in mailed hood 
 On steeds of stone sat ranged along the aisle. 
 And frowned upon the aspirant : " Who is he 
 Would claim the name and join the company 
 Of slayers of Soldans swart and Dragons grim, 
 Not ignorant of wanded wizards' guile, 
 And deserts parched, and waters wide to swim ? " 
 He halted at the challenge of the dead. 
 Anon, in twilight, fancy feigned a smile 
 To curve the carven lips, as though they said, 
 " Oh welcome, brother, of whom the world hath 
 need ! 
 Ere the recorded deed 
 We trembled, hoped, and doubted, even as thou." 
 
 And therewithal he lifted up his brow, 
 Uplift from hesitance and humble fear. 
 And saw how with the splendor of the sun 
 The glimmering oriel blossomed rosy-clear ; 
 And lo, the Vigil of the Arms was done ! 
 
30 Ubc accola^e. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Now, mass being said, before the priest he brought 
 That gHtterin.g prophecy, his untried sword. 
 In Sonne mysterious forge the blade was wrought, 
 By shadowy arms of force that baffle thought 
 Wrought curiously in the dim under-world ; 
 And all along the sheath processions poured. 
 
 Thronged shapes of earth's weird morn 
 Ere yet the hammer of Thor was downward hurled ; 
 Not less it had for hilt the Cross of Christ the Lord, 
 And must thereby in battle aye be borne. 
 
 V. 
 
 Cool-sprinkled with the consecrated wave, 
 
 That blade was blessed, that it should strike to save ; 
 
 And next, pure hands of youth in hands of age 
 
 Were held upon the page 
 Of the illuminate missal, full of prayers, — 
 Rich fields, wherethrough the river of souls has rushed 
 Long, long, to have its passion held and hushed 
 In the breast of that calm Sea whereto it fares ; 
 And steadfastly the aspirant vow did plight 
 To bear the sword, or break it, for the Right ; 
 And living well his life, yet hold it light, — 
 Yea, for that sovereign sake a worthless thing. 
 
TLbc Hccola^e. 31 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thereon a troop of maids began to bring, 
 With flutter as of many-colored doves, 
 The hauberk that right martially did ring, 
 
 And weight of linked gloves, 
 And helmet plumed, and spurs ablaze with gold. 
 Each gave in gracious wise her guiding word. 
 As bade or fresh caprice, or usance old : 
 As, RIDE THOU SWIFT BY GOLDEN HONOR SPURRED, 
 Or, BE THOU FAITHFUL, FORTUNATE, AND BOLD. 
 But scarce for his own heart the aspirant heard. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And armed, all save the head, 
 He kneeled before his master gray and good. 
 Like some tall, noble, ancient ship he stood. 
 
 That once swept o'er the tide 
 With banners, and freight of heroes helmeted 
 For worthy war, and music breathing pride. 
 
 Now, the walled cities won. 
 And storms withstood, and all her story spun. 
 She towers in sand beside some sunny bay, 
 Whence in the silvery morn new barks go sailing gay. 
 
 So stately stood the Knight: 
 And with a mighty arm, and with a blade 
 
32 TLbc Hccola^e. 
 
 Reconsecrate at fiery fonts of fight, 
 
 He on the bowed neck gave the accolade. 
 
 Yet kneeled the youth bewildered, for the stroke 
 Seemed severance sharp of kind companionships ; 
 And the strange pain of parting in him woke; 
 And as at midnight when a branch down dips 
 By sudden-swaying tempest roughly stirred, 
 
 Some full-fledged nested bird, 
 Being shaken forth, though fain of late to fly. 
 Now flickers with weak wing and wistful cry, — 
 
 So flickered his desires 
 'Twixt knighthood, and delights and duties of esquires. 
 But even as with the morrow will uprise, 
 
 Assured by azure skies. 
 The bird, and dart, and swim in buoyant air, — 
 Uprose his soul, and found the future free and fair! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And girded with Farewell and with Godspeed 
 
 He sprang upon his steed. 
 And forth he fared along the broad bright way ; 
 And mild was the young sun, and wild the breeze. 
 That seemed to blow to lands no eye had seen : 
 And Pentecost had kindled all the trees 
 To tremulous thin whispering flames of green, 
 And given to each a sacred word to say ; 
 
Ubc Hccola&e. 33 
 
 And wind-fine voices of the wind-borne birds 
 Were ever woven in among their words. 
 Soft-brooding o'er the hamlet where it lay, 
 The circling hills stood stoled with holy white, 
 For orchards brake to blossom in the night ; 
 And all the morning was one blown blue flower, 
 And all the world was at its perfect hour. 
 So fared he gladly, and his spirit yearned 
 To do some deed fit for the deep new day. 
 
 And on the broad bright way his armor burned. 
 And showed him still, a shifting, waning star, 
 
 To sight that followed far. 
 Till, last, the fluctuant wood the flash did whelm, 
 That flood-like rolled in light and shadow o'er his helm. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I know not more ; nor if that helm did rust 
 In weed of some drear wilderness down-thrust, 
 
 Where in the watches lone 
 Heaven's host beheld him lying overthrown. 
 While God yet judged him victor, God whose laws 
 Note not the event of battle, but the cause. 
 I know not more ; nor if the nodding prize 
 Of lustrous laurels ere that helm did crown. 
 While God yet judged him vanquished, God whose eyes 
 Saw how his Demon smote his Ansfel down 
 
34 XTbe BccolaDe. 
 
 In some forgotten field and left him low. 
 Only the perfect hour is mine to know. 
 
 X. 
 
 you who forth along the highway ride, 
 
 Whose quest the whispering wood shall close around, 
 Be all adventure high that may betide, 
 And gentle all enchantments therein found ! 
 
 1 would my song were as a trumpet-sound 
 
 To nerve you and speed, and weld its notes with power 
 To the remembrance of your perfect hour; 
 To ring again and again, and to recall 
 
 With the might of music, all : 
 The prescience proud, the morning aspiration, 
 But most the unuttered vow, the inward consecration ! 
 
 (By permission of Messrs. Houghton, MifHin &Co.) 
 
APH 1^ loi^y 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS