SONGS OF SUMMEPN LANDS r j~~~j;j~ IIS LI/ SONGS OF SUIMMIER LA N D S By JOiQUIN IMILLER, AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF THE SIERRAS AND SUNLANDS,' ETC., ETC. where the sun and the moon lay down together and brought lorth the stars. CHICAGO MORRILL, HIGGINS & Co. 1892. COPYRIGHT, MORRILL, HIGGINS & CO., 1892. CONTENTS. PAGE. Songs of Summer Lands.......................... 9 Sea of Fire (The).................................. 13 Rhyme of the Great River (The), Part I........... 60 Rhyme of the Great River, (The), Part II.......... 94 Isles of the Amazons.............................. 131 Ideal and the Real (The)........................... 199 A Dove of St. M a r k............................. 224 I1 Capucin........................................ 239 Sunrise in Venice................................. 242 A Garibaldian's Story............................. 244 Sirocco........................................... 250 Como............................................. 251 ~-. ~E ~ 1 F ll 'A'~~i -",. up ~uiviivir_ iIIJ _[N tllatfar land, farilicr tiiail Yiicataii, Hloidiiriall /le-' -iti, or 2i,'7110,-ally sftce, IU[licrc I/ic -rclat sea, liollowed by the lia~id 0! i~tzali, Hears Weep coijie ealli;,zg across to Weep, MI [/clc I//le 6o lca seas fol/ozo) ill tlle grooves of inci JDoovi ~,7iidcr I/ic bastions of Darieii. I;zilthai laiiW so far thiat you Teoo'der wkeliethr If God Tc~oi/W kuozo-, it s/oiou/a you ft~ll dozo'i dead; Iii /that lAzud so far thirou&ithek Ilce,ilds auid wocatlier fliat I/ic lost suut si~iks like, a zoarrior sped, I ["licre I/ic se,a auid the sly sceiii elosiug togctller, Scciii elosii,g Iogetherl as'/ boo0k tlhat is read: ff4 IO SONGS OF SUMMER LANDS. Iz that inude, warm world, where the iuninamed rivers Roll restless in cradles of brziclit buiried -old; Wlhlere whitejflas/iniig mountaioas flow rivers of silver, As a rock of t//e desctflowedfountazins of old; By a dark, wooded river thgat calls to the dawn, A4nd calls all day wit/h iis dolorous swan. Iz that land of the wonderfuil sun and weather, Wit/i greeni uider foot and with gold ove helad, 1Where t1e spenft sulz flames, and you wonder whet/ier 'Tis an isle of fire in his foamy bed.[Th[iere the oceans of earth shall be welded together By the great Freznch master in his forge flame red, Lo! the half-finished zvorld! Yon footfall re treating, It miglit be the Maker disturbed at his task. But th/e footfall of God, or the far phcasanit beating, It is one and the same, wzhatever tlze mask It may wear iuiito mnan. The woods keep repeating The old sacred sernioons, whatever you ask. * -4- * * -~ * -~ * I z ;z z L Z I -k. z I It z z 1. .z11 ,,,k 12 SONGS OF SUMMER LANDS. Thie thin ropes are swinging withl streamers of moss That mantle all tbitigs like the shlireds of a zreck; The long mosses szving, thiere is rever a breatlh. The river rolls still as the river of deatli. THE SEA OF FIRE. THE SEA OF FIRE. I. IN the beginning,-ay, before The six-days' labors were well o'er; AYea, while the world lay incomplete, Ere God had opened quite the door Of this strange land for strong men's feet, There lay against that westmost sea One weird-wild land of mystery. A far white wall, like fallen moon, Girt out the world. The forest lay So deep you scarcely saw the day, Save in the high-held middle noon: It lay a land of sleep and dreams, And clouds drew through like shoreless streams That stretch to where no man may say. 13 THE SEA OF FIRE. MIen -reached it only from the sea, By black-built ships, that seemed to creep Along the shore suspiciously, Like unnamed monsters of the deep. It was the weirdest land, I ween, That mortal eye has ever seen: A dim, dark land of bird and beast, Black shaggy beasts with cloven claw,A land that scarce knew prayer or priest, Or law of man, or Nature's law; \Where no fixed line drew sharp dispute 'Twixt savage man and silent brute. II. It hath a history most fit For cunning hand to fashion on; No chronicler lath mentioned it; No buccaneer set foot upon. 'Tis of an outlawed Spanish Don,A cruel man, with pirate's gold That loaded down his deep shlip's hold. I4 THE SEA OF FIRE. A deep ship's hold of plundered gold! The golden cruise, the golden cross, From many a church of Mexico, From Panama's mad overthrow, From many a ransomed city's loss, From many a follower stanch and bold, And many a foeman stark and cold. He found this wild, lost land. He drew His ship to shore. His ruthless crew, Like Romulus, laid lawless hand On meek brown maidens of the land, And in their bloody forays bore Red firebrands along the shore. III. The red men rose at night. They came, A firm, unflinching wall of flame; They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea O'er land of sand and level shore That howls in far, fierce agony. The red men swept that deep, dark shore As threshers sweep a threshing floor. 15 THE SEA OF FIRE. And yet beside the slain Don's door They left his daughter, as they fled: They spared her life because she bore Their Chieftain's blood and name. The red And blood-stained hidden hoards of gold They hollowed from the stout ship's hold, And bore in many a slim canoeTo where? The good priest only knew. IV. The course of life is like the sea; Men come and go; tides rise and fall; And that is all of history. The tide flows in, flows out to-dayAnd that is all that man may say; Man is, man was, and that is all. Revenge at last came like a tide,'T was sweeping deep and terrible; The Christian found the land, and came To take possession in Christ's name. For every white man tha thad died I think a thousand red men fell, I6 THE SEA OF FIRE. A Christian custom; and the land Lay lifeless as some burned-out brand. V. Ere while the slain Don's daughter grew A glorious thing, a flower of spring, A lithe slim reed, a sun-loved weed, A something more than mortal knew; A mystery of grace and face,A silent mystery that stood An empress in that sea-set wood, Supreme, imperial in herplace. It might have been men's lust for gold,For all men knew that lawless crew Left hoards of gold in that ship's hold, That drew ships hence, and silent drew Strange Jasons to that steep wood shore, As if to seek that hidden store,I never either cared or knew. I say it might have been this gold That ever drew and strangely drew 2 17 THE SEA OF FIRE. Strong men of land, strange men of sea, To seek this shore of mystery With all its wondrous tales untold; The gold or her, which of the two? It matters not; I never knew. But this I know, that as for me, Between that face and the hard fate That kept me ever from my own, As some wronged monarch from his throne, God's heaped-up gold of land or sea Had never weighed one feather's weight. Her home was on the wooded height,A woody home, a priest at prayer, A perfume in the fervid air, And angels watching her at night. I can but think upon the skies That bound that other Paradise. VI. Below a star-built arch, as grand As ever bended heaven spanned; I8 THE SEA OF FIRE. Tall trees like mighty columns grew They loomed as if to pierce the blue, They reached as reaching heaven through. The shadowed stream rolled far below, Where men moved noiseless to and fro As in some vast cathedral, when The calm of prayer conimes to men, With benedictions, bending low. Lo! wooded sea-banks, wild and steep! A trackless wood; a snowy cone That lifted from this wood alone! This wild, wide river, dark and deep! A ship against the shore asleep! VII. An Indian woman crept, a crone, Hard by about the land alone, The relic of her perished race. She wore rich, rudely-fashioned bands Of gold above her bony hands: She hissed hot curses on the place! I9 THE SEA OF FIRE. VIII. Go seek the red man's last retreat! A lonesome land, the haunted lands! Red mouths of beasts, red men's red hands: Red prophet-priest, in mute defeat! His boundaries in blood are writ! His land is ghostland! That is his, Whatever man may claim of this; Beware how you shall enter it! He stands God's guardian of ghostlands; Ay, this same wrapped half-prophet stands All nude and voiceless, nearer to The awful God than I or you. IX. This bronzed child, by that river's brink, Stood fair to see as you can think, As tall as tall reeds at her feet, As fresh as flowers in her hair; As sweet as flowers over-sweet, As fair as vision more than fair! 20 TIlE FEA OF FIRE. How beautiful she was! How wild! How pure as water-plant, this child, This one wild child of Nature here Grown tall in shadows. And how near To God, where no man stood between Her eyes and scenes no man hath seen, This maiden that so mutely stood, The one lone woman of that wood. Stop still, my friend, and do not stir, Shut close your page and think of her. The birds sang sweeter for her face; Hter lifted eyes were like a grace To seamen of that solitude, However rough, however rude. The rippled rivers of her hair, That ran in wondrous waves, somehow Flowed down divided by her brow, Half mantled her within its care, And flooded all, or bronze or snow, In its uncommon fold and flow. A perfume and an incense lay Before her, as an incense sweet 21 THE SEA OF FIRE. Before blithe mowers of sweet May In early morn. Iler certain feet Embarked on no uncertain way. Come, think how perfect before men, Ilow sweet as sweet magnolia bloomn Embalmed in dews of morning, when Rich sunlight leaps from midnilght glooiI Resolved to kiss, and swift to kiss Ere yet morn wakens man to bliss. X. The days swept on. Her perfect year \Vas with her now. The sweet perfume Of womanhood in holy bloom, As when red harvest blooms appear, Possessed her now. The priest did pray That saints alone should pass that way. A red bird built beneath her roof, Brown squirrels crossed her cabin sill, And welcome came or went at will. A hermit spider wove his web, 22 THE SEA OF FIRE. And up against the roof would spin His net to catch mosquitoes in. The silly elk, the spotted fawn, And all dumb beasts that came to drink, That stealthy stole upon the brink In that dim while that lies between The coming night and going dawn, On seeing her familiar face Would fearless stop and stand in place. She was so kind, the beasts of night Gave her the road as if her right; The panther crouching overhead In sheen of moss would hear her tread, And bend his eyes, but never stir Lest he by chance might frighten her. Yet in her splendid strength, her eyes, There lay the lightning of the skies; The love-hate of the lioness, To kill the instant or caress: A pent-up soul that sometimes grew Impatient; why, she hardly knew. 23 THE SEA OF FIRE. At last she sighed, uprose, and threw Her strong arms out as if to hand Her love, sun-born and all complete At birth, to some brave lover's feet On some far, fair, and unseen land, As knowing now not what to do! XI. How beautiful she was! Why, she Was inspiration! She was born To walk God's summer hills at morn, Nor waste her by this wood-dark sea. What wonder, then, her soul's white wings Beat at its bars, like living things! Once more she sighed! She wandered through The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew Her hand above her face, and swept The lonesome sea, and all day kept Her face to sea, as if she knew Some day, some near or distant day, Her destiny should come that way. 24 THE SEA OF FIRE. XII. How proud she was! How darkly fair! HOw\ full of faith, of love; of strength! Her calm, proud eyes! Her great hair's length, Her lo,ng, strong, tumbled, careless hair, Half curled and knotted anywhere, From brow to breast, from cheek to chlin, For love to trip and tangle in! XIII. At last a tall strange sail was seen: It came so slow, so wearily, Came creeping cautious up the sea, As if it crept from out between The half-closed sea and sky that lay Tight wedged together, far away. She watched it, wooed it. She did pray It might not pass her by but bring Some love, some hate, some anything, 25 THE SEA OF FIRE. To break the awful loneliness That like a nightly nightmare lay Upon her proud and pent-up soul Until it barely brooked control. XIV. The ship crept silent up the sea, And came You cannot understand How fair she was, how sudden she Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood: How gracious, yet how proud and grand; How glorified, yet fresh and free, How human, yet how more than good. XV. The ship stole slowly, slowly on;Should you in Californian field In ample flower-time behold The soft south rose lift like a shield Against the sudden sun at dawn, 26 THE SEA OF FIRE. A double handful of heaped gold, Why you, perhaps, might understand How splendid and how queenly she Uprose beside that wood-set sea. The storm-worn ship scarce seemed to creep From wave to wave. It scarce could keep How still this fair girl stood, how fair! How proud her presence as she stood Between that vast sea and west wood! How large and liberal her soul, How confident, how purely chare, How trusting; how untried the whole Great heart, grand faith, that blossomed there. XVI. Ay, she was as Madonna to The tawny, lawless, faithful few WVho touched her hand and knew her soul: She drew them, drew them as the pole Points all things to itself. She drew Men upward as a moon of spring, 27 THE SEA OF FIRE. High wheeling, vast and bosom-full, H-alf clad in clouds and white as wool, Draws all the strong seas following. Yet still she moved as sad, as lone As that same moon that leans above, And seems to search high heaven through For some strong, all-sufficient love, For one brave love to be her own, To lean upon, to love, to woo, To lord her high, white world, to yield His clashing sword against her shield. Oh, I once knew a sad, white dove That died for such sufficient love, Such high-born soul with wings to soar: That stood up equal in its place, That looked love level in the face, Nor wearied love with leaning o'er To lift love level where she trod In sad delight the hills of God. XVIi. How slow before the sleeping breeze, That stranger ship from under seas! 28 THE SEA OF FIRE. How like to Dido by her sea, WVhen reaching arms imploringly,Her large, round, rich, impassioned arms, Tossed forth from all her storied charms — This one lone maiden leaning stood Above that sea, beside the wood! The ship crept strangely up the seas; Her shrouds seemed shreds, her masts seemed trees,Strange tattered trees of toughest boug That knew no cease of storm till now. The maiden pitied her; she prayed Her crew might come, nor feel afraid; She prayed the winds might come, came, As birds that answer to a name. The maiden held her blowing hair That bound her beauteous self about; The sea-winds housed within her hair: She let it go, it blew in rout About her bosom full and bare. Her round, full arms were free as air, Her high hands clasped as clasped in prayer. 29 they THE SEA OF FIRE. XVIII. The breeze grew bold, the battered ship Began to flap her weary wings; The tall, torn masts began to dip And walk the wave like living things. She rounded in, she struck the stream, She moved like some majestic dream. The captain kept her deck. He stood A Hercules among his men; And now he watched the sea, and then He peered as if to pierce the wood. He now looked back, as if pursued, Now swept the sea with glass as though He fled or feared some hidden foe. Swift sailing up the river's mouth, Swift tacking north, swift tacking south, He touched the overhanging wood; He tacked his ship; his tall black mast Touched tree-top mosses as he passed; He touched the steep shore where she stood. 3o THIE SEA OF FIRE. XIX. Her hands still clasped as if in prayer, Sweet prayer set to silentness; Her sun-browned throat uplifted, bare And beautiful. Her eager face Illumed with love and tenderness, And all her presence gave such grace, Dark shadowed in her cloud of hlair, That she seemed more than mortal fair. XX. He saw. He could not speak. No more \Vith lifted glass he sought the sea; No more he watched the wild new shore. Now foes might come, now friends might flee; He could not speak, he would not stir,He saw but her, he feared but her. The black ship ground against the shore, She ground against the bank as one 3 1 THE SEA OF FIRE. With long and weary journeys done, That would not rise to journey more. Yet still this Jason silent stood And gazed against that sun-lit wood, As one whose soul is anywhere All seemed so fair, so wondrous fair! At last aroused, he stepped to land Like some Columbus. They laid hand On lands and fruits, and rested there. XXI. He found all fairer than fair morn In sylvan land, where waters run With downward leap against the sun, And full-grown sudden May is born. He found her taller than tall corn Tiptoe in tassel; found her sweet As vale where bees of Hybla meet. An unblown rose, an unread book; A wonder in her wondrous eyes; 32 THE SEA OF FIRE. A large, religious, steadfast look Of faith, of trust,-the look of one New welcomed in her Paradise. He read this book-read on and on From titlepage to colophon: As in cool woods, some summer day, You find delight in some sweet lay, And so entranced read on and on From titlepage to colophon. XXII. And who was he that rested there,This Hercules, so huge, so rare, This giant of a grander day, This Theseus of a nobler Greece, This Jason of the golden fleece? And who was he? And who were they That came to seek the hidden gold Long hollowed from the pirate's hold? I do not know. You need not care. They loved, this maiden and this man, 3 33 THE SEA OF FIRE. And that is all I sutely know, The rest is as the winds that blow. He bowed as brave men bow to fate, Yet proud and resolute and bold; She, coy at first, and mute and cold, Held back and seemed to hesitate,Half frightened at this love that ran Hard gallop till her hot heart beat Like sounding of swift courser's feet. XXIII. Two strong streams of a land must run Together surely as the sun Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay The fates that reign, that wisely reign? Love is, love was, shall be again. Like death, inevitable it is; Perchance, like death, the dawn of bliss. Let us, then, love the perfect day, The twelve o'clock of life, and stop The two hands pointing to the top, And hold them tightly while we may. 34 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXIV. How piteous strange is love! The walks By wooded ways; the silent talks Beneath the broad and fragrant bough. The dark deep wood, the dense black dell, Where scarce a single gold beam fell From out the sun. They rested now On mossy trunk. They wandered then Where never fell the feet of men. Then longer walks, then deeper woods, Then sweeter talks, sufficient sweet, In denser, deeper solitudes, — Dear careless ways for careless feet; Sweet talks of paradise for two, And only two to watch or woo. She rarely spake. All seemed a dream She would not waken from. She lay All night but waiting for the day, When she might see his face, and deemn This man, with all his perils passed, Had found the Lotus-land at last. 35 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXV. The year waxed fervid, and the sun Fell central down. The forest lay A-quiver in the heat. The sea Below the steep bank seemed to run A molten sea of gold. Away Against the gray and rock-built isles That broke the molten watery miles Where lonesome sea-cows called all day, The sudden sun smote angrily. Therefore the need of deeper deeps, Of denser shade for man and maid, Of higher heights, of cooler steeps, Where all day long the sea-wind stayed. They sought the rock-reared steep. The breeze Swept twenty thousand miles of seas; Had twenty thousand things to say, Of love, of lovers of Cathay, To lovers'mid these high-held trees. 36 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXVI. To left, to right, below the height, Below the wood by wave and stream, Plumed pampas grasses grew to gleam And bend their lordly plumes, and run And shake, as if in very fright Before sharp lances of the sun. They saw the tide-bound, battered ship Creep close below against the bank; They saw it cringe and shrinkl; it shrank As shrinks some huge black beast with fear When some uncommon dread is near. They heard the melting resin drip, As drip the last brave blood-drops when Life's battle waxes hot with men. XXVIi. Yet what to her were burning seas, Or what to him was forest flame? They loved; they loved the glorious trees, 37 THE SEA OF FIRE. The gleaming tides, or rise or fall; They loved the lisping winds that came From sea-lost spice-set isles unknown, With breath not warmer than their own: They loved, they loved,-and that was all. XXVIII. Full noon! Below the ancient moss With mighty boughs high clanged across, The man with sweet words, over-sweet, Fell pleading, plaintive, at her feet. He spake of love, of boundless love,Of love that knew no other land, Or face, or place, or anything; Of love that like the wearied dove Could light nowhere, but kept the wing Till she alone put forth her hand And so received it in her ark From seas that shake against the dark! He clasped her hands, climbed past her knees, Forgot her hands and kissed her hair, 38 THE SEA OF FIRE. The while her two hands clasped in prayer, And fair face lifted to the trees. Her proud breast heaved, her pure proud breast Rose like the waves in their unrest When counter storms possess the seas. Her mouth, her arched, uplifted mouth, Her ardent mouth that thirsted so,No glowing lovesong of the South Can say; no man can say or know The glory there, and so live on Content without that glory gone! Her face still lifted up. And she Disdained the cup of passion he Hard pressed her panting lips to touch. She dashed it by despised, and she Caught fast her breath. She trembled much, And sudden rose full height, and stood An empress in high womanhood: She stood a tower, tall as when Proud Roman mothers suckled men Of old-time truth and taught them such. 39 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXIX. Her soul surged vast as space is. She Was trembling as a courser when His thin flank quivers, and his feet Touch velvet on the turf, and he Is all afoam, alert and fleet As sunlight glancing on the sea, And full of triumph before men. At last she bended some her face, Half leaned, then put him back a pace, And met his eyes. Calm, silently Her eyes looked deep into his eyes,As maidens down some mossy well Do peer in hope by chance to tell By image there what future lies 1Before them, and what face shall be The pole-star of their destiny. Pure Nature's lover! Loving him \Vith love that made all pathways dim 40 THE SEA OF FIRE. And difficult where he was not,Then marvel not at form forgot. And who shall chide? Doth priest know aught Of sign, or holy unction brought From over seas, that ever can Make man love maid or maid love man One whit the more, one bit the less, For all his mummeries to bless? Yea, all his blessings or his ban? The winds breathed warm as Araby: She leaned upon his breast, she lay A wide-winged swan with folded wing. He drowned his hot face in her hair, He heard her great heart rise and sing; He felt her bosom swell. The air Swooned sweet with perfume of her form. Her breast was warm, her breath was warm, And warm her warm and perfumed mouth As summer journeys through the South. xxx. The argent sea surged steep below, 4I THE SEA OF FIRE. Surged languid in a tropic glow; And two great hearts kept surging so! The fervid kiss of heaven lay Precipitate on wood and sea. Two great souls glowed with ecstasy, The sea glowed scarce as warm as they. XXXI. 'Twas love's low amber afternoon. Two far-off pheasants thrummed a tune, A cricket clanged a restful air. The dreamful billows beat a rune Like heart regrets. Around her head There shone a halo. Men have said 'Twas from a dash of Titian That flooded all her storm of hair In gold and glory. But they knew, Yea, all men know there ever grew A halo round about her head Like sunlight scarcely vanished. 42 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXXII. How still she was! She only knew His love. She saw no life beyond. She loved with love that only lives Outside itself and selfishness, A love that glows in its excess; A love that melts pure gold, and gives Thenceforth to all who come to woo No coins but this face stamped thereon,Ay, this one image stamped upon Its face, with some dim date long gone. XXXIII. They kept the headland high; the ship Below began to chafe her chain, To groan as some great beast in pain; While white fear leapt from lip to lip: "The woods are fire! the woods are flame! Come down and save us in God's name!" He heard! he did not speak or stir,He thought of her, of only her, 43 THE SEA OF FIRE. While flames behind, before them lay To hold the stoutest heart at bay! Strange sounds were heard far up the flood, Strange, savage sounds that chilled the blood! Then sudden from the dense, dark wood Above, about them where they stood A thousand beasts came peering out; And now was thrust a long black snout, And now a dusky mouth. It was A sight to make the stoutest pause. "Cut loose the ship!" the black mate cried; "Cut loose the ship!" the crew replied. They drove into the sea. It lay As light as ever middle day. The while their half-blind bitch that sat All slobber-mouthed, and monkish cowled With great, broad, floppy, leathern ears Amid the men, rose up and howled, And doleful howled her plaintive fears, While all looked mute aghast thereat. It was the grimmest eve, I think, That ever hung on Hades' brink 44 THE SEA OF FIRE. Great broad-winged bats possessed the air, Bats whirling blindly everywhere; It was such troubled twilight eve As never mortal would believe. XXXIV. Some say the crazed hag lit the wood In circle where the lovers stood; Some say the gray priest feared the crew Might find at last the hoard of gold Long hidden from the black ship's hold,I doubt me if men ever knew. But such mad, howling, flame-lit shore No mortal ever saw before. Huge beasts above that shining sea, Wild, hideous beasts with shaggy hair, With red mouths lifting in the air, They piteous howled, and plaintively, The wildest sounds, the weirdest sight That ever shook the walls of night. Ilow lorn they howled, with lifted head, 45 THE SEA OF FIRE. To dim and distant isles that lay Wedged tight along a line of red, Caught in the closing gates of day 'Twixt sky and sea and far away,It was the saddest sound to hear That ever struck on human ear. They doleful called; and answered they The plaintive sea-cows far away, The great sea-cows that called from isles, Away across wide watery miles, With dripping mouths and lolling tongue, As if they called for captured young, The huge sea-cows that called the whiles Their great wide mouths were mouthing moss; And still they doleful called across From isles beyond the watery miles. No sound can half so doleful be As sea-cows calling from the sea. xxxv. The drowned sun sank and died. He lay In seas of blood. Ile sinkling drew 46 THE SEA OF FIRE. The gates of sunset sudden to, \Where shattered day in fragments lay, And night came, moving in mad flame; The night came, lighted as he came, As lighted by high summer sun Descending through the burning blue. It was a gold and amber hue, And all hues blended into one. The night spilled splendor where she came, And filled the yellow world with flame. The moon came on, came leaning low Along the far sea-isles aglow; She fell along that amber flood A silver flame in seas of blood. It wvas the strangest moon, ahll me! That ever settled on God's sea. XXXVI. Slim snakes slid down from fern and grass, From wood, from fen, from anywvlcre; You could not step, you would not pass, And you would hesitate to stir, 47 THE SEA OF FIRE Lest in some sudden, hurried tread Your foot struck some unbruised head: They slid in streams into the stream, — It seemed like some infernal dream; They curved, and graceful curved across, Like graceful, waving sea-green moss, There is no art of man can make A ripple like a rippling snake! XXXVII. Abandoned, lorn, the lovers stood, Abandoned there, death in the air! That beetling steep, that blazing woodRed flame! and red flame everywhere! Yet was he born to strive, to bear The front of battle. He would die In noble effort, and defy The grizzled visage of despair. He threw his two strong arms full length As if to surely test their strength; Then tore his vestments, textile things That could but tempt the demon wings 48 THE SEA OF FIRE. Of flame that girt them round about, Then'threw his garments to the air As one that laughed at death, at doubt, And like a god stood grand and bare. She did not hesitate; she knew The need of action; swift she threw Her burning vestments by, and bound Her wondrous wealth of hair that fell An all-concealing cloud around Her glorious presence, as he came To seize and bear her through the flame,An Orpheus out of burning hell! He leaned above her, wound his arm About her splendor, while the noon Of flood tide, manhood, flushed his face, And high flames leapt the high headland!They stood as twin-hewn statues stand, High lifted in some storied place. He clasped her close, he spoke of death,Of death and love in the same breath. He clasped her close; her bosom lay Like ship safe anchored in some bay. 4 49 THE SEA OF FIRE. XXXVIII. The flames! They could not stand or stay; Before the beetling steep, the sea! But at his feet a narrow way, A short steep path, pitched suddenly Safe open to the river's beach, Where lay a small white isle in reach, A small, white, rippled isle of sand Where yet the two might safely land. And there, through smoke and flame, behold The priest stood safe, yet all appalled! He reached the cross; he cried, he called; He waved his high-held cross of gold. He called and called, he bade them fly Through flames to him, nor bide and die! Her lover saw; he saw, and knew His giant strength would bear her through. And yet he would not start or stir. He clasped her close as death can hold, Or dying miser clasp his gold, — His hold became a part of her. 50 THE SEA OF FIRE. He would not give her up! He would Not bear her waveward though he could! That height was heaven; the wave was hell. He clasped her close,-what else had done The manliest man beneath the sun? WVas it not well? was it not well? O man, be glad! be grandly glad, And king-like walk thy ways of death! For more than years of bliss you had That one brief time you breathed her breath, Yea, more than years upon a throne That one brief time you held her fast, Soul surged to soul, vehement, vast,True breast to breast, and all your own. Live me one day, one narrow night, One second of supreme delight Like that, and I will blow like chaff The hollow years aside, and laugh A loud triumphant laugh, and I, King-like and crowned, will gladly die. Oh, but to wrap my love with flame! \With flame within, with flame without! 5I THE SEA OF FIRE. Oh, but to die like this, nor doubtTo die and know her still the same! To know that down the ghostly shore Snow-white she waits me ever more! XXXIX. He poised her, held her high in air,His great strong limbs, his great arm's length!Then turned his knotted shoulders bare As birth-time in his splendid strength, And strode, strode with a lordly stride To where the high and wood-hung edge Looked down, far down upon the molten tide. The flames leaped with him to the ledge, The flames leapt leering at his side. XL. He leaned above the ledge. Below He saw the black ship idly cruise,A midge below, a mile below. 52 THE SEA OF FIRE. His limbs were knotted as the thews Of Hercules in his death-throe. The flame! the flame! the envious flame! She wound her arms, she wound her hair About his tall form, grand and bare, To stay the fierce flame where it came. The black ship, like some moonlit wreck, Below along the burning sea Crept on and on all silently, With silent pygmies on her deck. That midge-like ship, far, far below; That mirage lifting from the hill! His flame-lit form began to grow,To grow and grow more grandly still. The ship so small, that form so tall, It grew to tower over all. A tall Colossus, bronze and gold, As it that flame-lit form were he Who once bestrode the Rhodian sea, And ruled the watery world of old: As if the lost Colossus stood Above that burning sea of wood. 53 THE SEA OF FIRE. And she that shapely form upheld, Held high as if to touch the sky, What airy shape, how shapely high,A goddess of the seas of eld! Her hand upheld, her high right hand, As if she would forget the land; As if to gather stars, and heap The stars like torches there to light Her Hero's path across the deep To some far isle that fearful night. It was as if Colossus came, Came proudly reaching from the flame Above the sea in sheen of gold, His sea-bride leaping from his hold; The lost Colossus, and his bride In bronze perfection at his side: As if the lost Colossus came Companioned from the past, his bride With torch all faithful at his side: With star-tipped torch that reached and rolled Through cloud-built corridors of gold: His bride, austere and stern and grand, 54 THE SEA OF FIRE. Bartholdi's goddess by the sea, Far lifting, lighting Liberty From prison seas to freedom's land. XLI. The flame! the envious flame, it leapt Enraged to see such majesty, Such scorn of death; such kingly scorn. Then like some lightning-riven tree They sank down in that flame-and slept And all was hushed above that steep So still that they might sleep and sleep; As still as when a day is born. At last! from out the embers leapt Two shafts of light above the night,Two wings of flame that lifting swept In steady, calm, and upward flight; Two wings of flame against the white Far-lifting, tranquil, snowy cone; Two wings of love, two wings of light, 55 THE SEA OF FIRE. Far, far above that troubled night, As mounting, mounting to God's throne. XLII. And all night long that upward light ,Lit up the sea-cow's bed below: The far sea-cows still calling so It seemed as they must call all night. All night! there was no night. Nay, nay, There was no night. The night that lay Between that awful eve and day,That nameless night was burned away. 56 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. PART 1. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. PART I. I?HYME on, rhliyme on, in reedy flow. 0 river, rhymer ever sweet! The story of fthy land is meet, The stars stand listening to know. Rliyme on, 0 river of the earth! Gray father of the dreadful seas, Rliyme on! the world upon its knees Shiall yet invoke tliy wealth and worth. Rhlyme on, thle reed is at thy mouth, 0 kingly minstrel, mighty stream! Thy Crescent City, like a dream, Hangs in thze heaven of my Soukth. Rhyme on, rhyme on! these broken strings Sing sweetest in this warm south wind; I sit thy willow banks and bind A broken harp thatflitfil sings. 59 60 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I. ND where is my city, sweet blossom-sown town? And what is her glory, and what has she done? By the Mexican seas in the path of the sun Sit you down: in the crescent of seas sit you down. Ay, glory enough by my Mexican seas! Ay, story enough in that battle-torn town, Hidden down in the crescent of seas, hidden down 'Mid mantle and sheen of magnolia-strewn trees. But mine is the story of souls; of a soul That bartered God's limitless kingdom for gold, Sold stars and all space for a thing he could hold In his palm for a day, ere he hid with the mole. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. O father of waters! O river so vast! So deep, so strong, and so wondrous wild, He embraces the land as he rushes past, Like a savage father embracing his child. His sea-land is true and so valiantly true, His leaf-land is fair and so marvelous fair, His palm-land is filled with a perfumed air Of magnolia blooms to its dome of blue. His rose-land has arbors of moss-swept oak, Gray, Druid old oaks; and the moss that sways And swings in the wind is the battle-smoke Of duelists, dead in her storied days. His love-land has churches and bells and chimes; His love-land has altars and orange flowers; And that is the reason for all these rhymes,, — These bells, they are ringing through all the hours! His sun-land has churches and priests at prayer, White nuns, as white as the far north snow; They go where danger may bid them go,They dare when the angel of death is there. 6I 62 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, In the Creole quarter, with great black eyes, So fair that the Mayor must keep them there Lest troubles, like troubles of Troy, arise. His love-land has ladies, with eyes held down, Held down, because if they lifted them, \Why,you would be lost in that old IXrench town, Though you held even to God's garment hem. His love-land has ladies so fair, so fair, That they bend their eyes to the holy book, Lest you should forget yourself, your prayer, And never more cease to look and to look. And these are the ladies that no men see, And this is the reason men see them not. Better their modest sweet mystery, Better by far than the battle-shot. And so, in this curious old town of tiles. The proud French quarter of days long gone, In castles of Spain and tumble-down piles These wonderful ladies live on and on. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I sit in the church where they come and go; I dream of glory that has long since gone, Of the low raised high, of the high brought low, As in battle-torn days of Napoleon. These piteous places, so rich, so poor! One quaint old church at the edge of the town Has white tombs laid to the very church door, White leaves in the story of life turned down. White leaves in the story of life are these, The low white slabs in the long, stro tg grass, Where Glory has emptied her hour glass And dreams with the dreamers beneath the trees. I dream with the dreamers beneath the sod, \Vhere souls pass byto the great white throne; I count each tomb as a mute milestone For weary, sweet souls on their way to God. I sit all day by the vast, strong stream, 'Mid low white slabs in the long, strong fgfa.<. Where time has forgotten for aye to ),s, To dream, and ever to dream and to drecam. 63 64 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. This quaint old church with its dead to the door, By the cypress swamp at the edge of the town, So restful seems that you want to sit dclown And rest you, and rest you for evermore. And one white tomb is a lowliest tomb That has crept up close to the crumbling door,Some penitent soul, as imploring roomn Close under the cross that is leaning o'er. 'Tis a low white slab, and't is nameless, too Her untold story, why, who should know? Yet God, I reckon, can read right through That nameless stone to the bosom below. And the roses know, and they pity her, too; They bend their heads in the sun or rain, And they read, and they read, and then read again, As children reading strange pictures through. WVhy, surely her sleep it should be profound; For, oh, the apples of gold above! THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. And, oh, the blossoms of bridal love! And, oh, the roses that gather arouLnd! The sleep of a night or a thousand morns? Why, what is the difference here, to-day? Sleeping and sleeping the years away With all earth's roses and none of its thorns. Magnolias white and the roses red The palm-tree here and the cypress tlhere: Sit down by the palm at the feet of the dead, And hear a penitent's midnight prayer. II. The old churchyard is still as death, A stranger passes to and fro As if to church —he does not goThe dead night does not draw a breath. A lone sweet lady prays within. The stranger passes by the door Will he not pray? Is he so poor He has no prayer for his sin? 5 I 65 66 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Is he so poor? His two strong hands Are full and heavy, as with gold; They clasp, as clasp two iron bands About two bags with eager hold. Will he not pause and enter in, Put down his heavy load and rest, Put off his garmenting of sin, As some black burden from his breast? Ah, me! the brave alone can pray. The church-door is as cannon's mouth To sinner North, or sinner South, More dreaded than dread battle day. Now two men pace. They pace apart, And one with youth and truth is fair; The fervid sun is in his heart, The tawny South is in his hair. Ay, two men pace, pace left and right — The lone, sweet lady prays withinAy, two men pace: the silent night Kneels down in prayer for some sin. TIlE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Lo! two men pace; and one is gray, A blue-eyed manl from snow-clad land, WVith something heavy in each hand,\Vith heavy feet, as feet of clay. Ay, two men pace; and one is light Of step, but still his brow is dark; His eyes are as a kindled spark That burns beneath the brow of night! And still they pace. The stars are red, The tombs are white as frosted snow; The silence is as if the dead Did pace in couples, to and fro. III. The azure curtain of God's house Draws back, and hangs star-pinned to space; I hear the low, large moon arouse, I see her lift her languid face. I see her shoulder up the east, Low-necked, and large as womanhood, 67 68 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Low-necked, as for some ample feast Of gods, within yon orange-wood. She spreads white palms, she whispers peace, Sweet peace on earth forevermore; Sweet peace for two beneath the trees, Sweet peace for one within the door The bent stream, like a scimitar Flashed in the sun, sweeps on and on, Till sheathed like some great sword new drawn In seas beneath the Carib's star. The high moon climbs the sapphire hill, The lone, sweet lady prays within; The crickets keep a clang and dinThey are so loud, earth is so still! And two men glare in silence there! The bitter, jealous hate of each Has grown too deep for deed or speech The lone sweet lady keeps her prayer. The vast moon high through heaven's field In circling chariot is rolled; THE RHYMIE OF TTTE GREAT RIVER. The golden stars are spun and reeled, And woven into cloth of gold. The white magnolia fills the night With perfume, as the proud moon fills The glad earth with her ample light From out her awful sapphire hills.' White orange blossoms fill the boughs Above, about the old church door, They wait the bride, the bridal vows, They never hung so fair before. The two men glare as dark as sin! And yet all seems so fair, so white, You would not reckon it was night, The while the lady prays within. IV. She prays so very long and late, The two men, weary, waiting there,The great magnolia at the gate Bends drowsily above her prayer. 69 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. The cypress in his cloak of moss, That watches on in silent gloom, Has leaned and shaped a shadow-cross Above the nameless, lowly tomb. What can she pray for? What her sin? What folly of a maid so fair? What shadows bind the wondrous hair Of one who prays so long within? The palm-trees guard in regiment, Stand right and left without the gate, The myrtle-moss trees wait and wait; The tall magnolia leans intent. The cypress trees, on gnarled old knees, Far out the dank and marshy deep Where slimy monsters groan and creep, Kneel with her in their marshy seas. What can her sin be? Who shall know? The night flies by,-a bird on wing; The men no longer to and fro Stride up and down, or anything. 7o THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. For one so weary and so old Has hardly strength to stride or stir; He can but hold his bags of gold, But hug his gold and wait for her. The two stand still,-stand face to face. The moon slides on; the midnight air Is perfumed as a house of prayerThe maiden keeps her holy place. Two men! And one is gray, but one Scarce lifts a full-grown face as yet: With light foot on life's threshold set,Is he the other's sun-born son? And one is of the land of snow, And one is of the land of sun; A black-eyed burning youth is one, But one has pulses cold and slow: Ay, cold and slow from clime of snow Where Nature's bosom, icy bound, Holds all her forces, hard, profound,Holds close where all the South lets go. 7I 72 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVEIR. Blame not the sun, blame not the snows, God's great schoolhouse for all is clime, The great schoolteacher, Father Time; And each has borne as best he knows. At last the elder speaks,-he cries, He speaks as if his heart would break; He speaks out as a man that dies, As dying for some lost love's sake: "Come, take this bag of gold, and go! Come, take one bag! See, I have two! Oh, why stand silent, staring so, When I would share my gold with you? "Come, take this gold! See how Ipray! See how I bribe, and beg, and buy, Ay, buy! buy love, as you, too, may Some day before you come to die. "God! take this gold, I beg, I pray! I beg as one who thirsting cries For but one drop of drink, and dies In some lone, loveless desert way THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. "You hesitate? Still hesitate? Stand silent still and mock my pain? Still mock to see me wait and wait, And wait her love, as earth waits rain?" V. 0 broken ship! 0 starless shore! 0 black and everlasting night, Where love comes never any more To light man's way with hleaven's light. A godless man with bags of gold I think a most unholy sight; Ah, who so desolate at night Amid death's sleepers still and cold? A godless man on holy ground I think a most unholy sight. I hear death trailing like a hound Hard after him, and swift to bite. VI. The vast moon settles to the west; Two men beside a nameless tomb, 73 74 THE RHYME OF TtIlE GREAT RIVER. And one would sit thereon to rest, Ay, rest below, if there was room. WVhat is this rest of death, sweet friend? WVhat is the rising up, and where? I say, death is a lengthened prayer, A longer night, a larger end Hear you the lesson I once learned: I died; I sailed a million miles Through dreamful, flowery, restful isles,She was not there, and I returned. I say the shores of death and sleep Are one; that when we, wearied, come To Lethe's waters, and lie dumb, 'Tis death, not sleep, holds us to keep. Yea, we lie dead for need of rest, And so the soul drifts out and o'er The vast still waters to the shore Beyond, in pleasant, tranquil quest: It sails straight on, forgetting pain, Past isles of peace, to perfect rest, THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Now were it best abide, or best Return and take up life again? And that is all of death there is, Believe me. If you find your love In that far land, then like the dove Abide, and turn not back to this. But if you find your love not there; Or if your feet feel sure, and you Have still allotted work to do,Why, then return to toil and care. Death is no mystery.'Tis plain If death be mystery, then sleep Is mystery thrice strangely deep,For oh this coming back again! Austerest ferryman of souls! I see the gleam of solid shores, I hear thy steady stroke of oars Above the wildest wave that rolls. O Charon, keep thy sombre ships! We come, with neither myrrh nor balm, 75 76 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Nor silver piece in open palm, But lone white silence on our lips. VII. She prays so long! she prays so late! What sin in all this flower-land Against her supplicating hand Could have in heaven any weight? Prays she for her sweet self alone? Prays she for some one far away, Or some one near and dear to-day, Or some poor, lorn, lost soul unknown? It seems to me a selfish thing To pray forever for one's self; It seems to me like heaping pelf In heaven by hard reckoning. Why, I would rather stoop and bear My load of sin, and bear it well And bravely down to burning hell, Than ever pray one selfish prayer! THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. VIII. The swift chameleon in the gloom This silence it is so profund! Forsakes its bough, glides to the ground, Then up, and lies across the tomb. It erst was green as olive-leaf, It then grew gray as myrtle moss The time it slid the moss across; But now'tis marble-white with grief. The little creature's hues are gone; Here in the pale and ghostly light It lies so pale, so panting white,White as the tomb it lies upon. The two men by that nameless tomb. And both so still! You might have said These two men, they are also dead, And only waiting here for room. How still beneath the orange-bough! How tall was one, how bowed was one! 77 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. The one was as a journey done, The other as beginning now. And one was young,-young with that youth Eternal that belongs to truth; And one was old,-old with the years That follow fast on doubts and fears. And yet the habit of command Was his, in every stubborn part; No common knave was he at heart, Nor his the common coward's hand. He looked the young man in the face, So full of hate, so frank of hate; The other, standing in his place, Stared back as straight and hard as fate And now he sudden turned away, And now he paced the path, and now Came back, beneath the orange-bough Pale-browed, with lips as cold as clay. As mute as shadows on a wall, As silent still, as dark as they, 78 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Before that stranger, bent and gray, The youth stood scornful, proud, and tall. He stood, a tall palmetto-tree With Spanish daggers guarding it; Nor deed, nor word, to him seemed fit While she prayed on so silently. He slew his rival with his eyes; His eyes were daggers piercing deep, So deep that blood began to creep From their deep wounds and drop wordwise: His eyes so black, so bright that they Might raise the dead, the living slay, If but the dead, the living, bore Such hearts as heroes had of yore: Two deadly arrows barbed in black, And feathered, too, with raven's wing; Two arrows that could silent sting, And with a death-wound answer back. How fierce he was! how deadly still In that mesmeric, hateful stare 79 80 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Turned on the pleading stranger there That drew to him, despite his will: So like a bird down-fluttering, Down, down, beneath a snake's bright eyes, He stood, a fascinated thing, That hopeless, unresisting, dies. He raised a hard hand as before, Reached out the gold, and offered it With hand that shook as ague-fit, — The while the youth but scorned the more. "You will not touch it? In God's name Who are you, and what are you, then? Come, take this gold, and be of men,A human form with human aim. "Yea, take this gold,-she must be mine She shall be mine! I do not fear Your scowl, your scorn, your soul austere, The living, dead, or your dark sign. "I saw her as she entered there; I saw her, and uncovered stood: THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. The perfume of her womanhood Was holy incense on the air. "She left behind sweet sanctity, Religion lay the way she went; I cried I would repent, repent! She passed on, all unheeding me. "Her soul is young, her eyes are bright And gladsome, as mine own are dim; But, oh, I felt my senses swim The time she passed me by to-night! "The time she passed, nor raised her eyes To hear me cry I would repent, Nor turned her head to hear my cries, But swifter went the way she went, "Went swift as youth, for all these years! And this the strangest thing appears, That lady there seems just the same,Sweet Gladys-Ah! you know her name? "You hear her name and start that I Should name her dear name trembling so? 6 8I 82 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Why, boy, when I shall come to die That name shall be the last I know. "That name shall be the last sweet name My lips shall utter in this life! That name is brighter than bright flame, That lady is my wedded wife! "Ah, start and catch your burning breath! Ah, start and clutch your deadly knife! If this be death, then be it death, But that loved lady is my wife! "Yea, you are stunned! your face is white, That I should come confronting you, As comes a lorn ghost of the night From out the past, and to pursue. "You thought me dead? You shake your head, You start back horrified to know That she is loved, that she is wed, That you have sinned in loving so. "Yet what seems strange, that lady there, I-loused ill the h-oly housci( of prayer, THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Seems just the same for all her tears, For all my absent twenty years. "Yea, twenty years to night, to night, Just twenty years this day, this hour, Since first I plucked that perfect flower, And not one witness of the rite. "Nay, do not doubt,-I tell you true! Her prayers, her tears, her constancy Are all for me, are all for me,And not one single thought for you! "I knew, I knew she would be here This night of nights to pray for me! And how could I for twenty year Know this same night so certainly? 'Ah me! some thoughts that we would drown Stick closer than a brother to The conscience, and pursue, pursue Like baying hound to hunt us down. "And then, that date is history; For on that night this shore was shelled, 83 84 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. And many a noble mansion felled, With many a noble family. "I wore the blue; I watched the flight Of shells, like stars tossed through the air, To blow your hearth-stones-anywhere, That wild, illuminated night. "Nay, rage befits you not so well: Why, you were but a babe at best, Your cradle some sharp bursted shell That tore, maybe, your mother's breast! "Hear me! We came in honored war. The risen world was on your track! The whole North-land was at our back, From Hudson's bank to the North star! "And from the North to palm-set sea. The splendid fiery cyclone swept. Your fathers fell, your mothers wept, Their nude babes clinging to the knee. "A wide and desolated track: Behind, a path of ruin lay; THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. 85 Before, some women by the way Stood mutely gazing, clad in black. "From silent women waiting there Some tears came down like still, small rain; Their own sons on the battle plain Were now but viewless ghosts of air. "Their own dear daring boys in gray, They should not see them any more; Our cruel drums kept telling o'er The time their own sons went away. "Through burning town, by bursting shell Yea, I remember well that night; I led through orange-lanes of light, As through some hot outpost of hell! "That night of rainbow shot and shell Sent from your surging river's breast To waken me, no more to rest,That night I should remember well! "That night amid the maimed and dead, A night in history set down 86 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. By light of many a burning town, And written all across in red, "Her father dead, her brothers dead, Her home in flames, what else could she But fly all helpless here to me, A fluttered dove, that night of dread? "Short time, hot time had I to woo Amid the red shells' battle-chime; But women rarely reckon time, And perils speed their love when true. "And then I wore a captain's sword; And, too, had oftentime before Doffed cap at her dead father's door, And passed a soldier's pleasant word. "And then-ah, I was comely then! I bore no load upon my back, I heard no hounds upon my track, But stood the tallest of tall men. "Her father's and her mother's shrine, This church amid the orange wood, THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. So near and so secure it stood, It seemed to beckon as a sign. "Its white cross seemed to beckon me: My heart was strong, and it was mine To throw myself upon my knee, To beg to lead her to this shrine. "She did consent. Through lanes of light I led through that church-door that night Let fall your hand! Take back your face And stand,-stand patient in your place! "She loved me; and she loves me still. Yea, she clung close to me that hour As honey-bee to honey-flower,And still is mine, through good or ill. "The priest stood there. He spake the prayer; He made the holy, mystic sign. And she was mine, was wholly mine, Is mine this moment I will swear! "Then days, then nights, of vast delight, Then came a doubtful, later day; 87 88 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. The faithful priest, now far away, Watched with the dying in the fight: "The priest amid the dying, dead, Kept duty on the battle-field, That midnight marriage unrevealed Kept strange thoughts running through my head. "At last a stray ball struck the priest: This vestibule his chancel was; And now none lived to speak her cause, Record, or champion her the least. "Hear me! I had been bred to hate All priests, their mummeries and all. Ah, it was fate,-ah, it was fate That all things tempted me to fall! "And then the rattling songs we sang Those nights when rudely revelling, The songs that only soldiers sing, Until the very tent-poles rang! "What is the rhyme that rhymers say Of maidens born to be betrayed THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. By epaulettes and shining blade, While soldiers love and ride away? "And then my comrades spake her name Half taunting, with a touch of shame; Taught me to hold that lily-flower As some light pastime of the hour. "And then the ruin in the land, The death, dismay, the lawlessness! Men gathered gold on every hand, Heaped gold: and why should I do less? "The cry for gold was in the air, For Creole gold, for precious things; The sword kept prodding here and there Through bolts and sacred fastenings. "'Get gold! get gold!' This was the cry. And I loved gold. What else could I Or you, or any earnest one Born in this getting age have done? "With this one lesson taught from youth, And ever taught us, to get gold, 89 90 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. To get and hold, and ever hold,What else could I have done, forsooth? "She, seeing how I sought for gold,This girl, my wife, one late night told Of treasures hidden close at hand, In her dead father's mellow land; "Of gold she helped her brothers hide Beneath a broad banana tree The day the two in battle died, The night she dying fled to me. "It seemed too good; I laughed to scorn Her trustful tale. She answered not; But meekly on the morrow morn Two massive bags of bright gold brought. "And when she brought this gold to me, Red Creole gold, rich, rare, and old, When I at last had gold, sweet gold, I cried in very ecstacy. "Red gold! rich gold! two bags of gold! The two stout bags of gold she brought THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. And gave with scarce a second thought,Why, her two hands could scarcely hold! "Now I had gold! two bags of gold! Two wings of gold, to fly, and fly The wide world's girth; red gold to hold Against my heart for aye and aye! "My country's lesson:'Gold! get gold!' I learned it well in land of snow; And what can glow, so brightly glow Long winter nights of northern cold? "Ay, now at last, at last I had The one thing, all fair things above My land had taught me most to love! A miser now! and I grew mad. "With these two bags of gold my own, I then began to plan that night For flight, for far and sudden flight, For flight; and, too, for flight alone. "I feared! I feared! My heart grew cold, Some one might claim this gold of mie! 9I 92 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I feared her,-feared her purityFeared all things but my bags of gold. "I grew to hate her face, her creed, That face the fairest ever yet That bowed o'er holy cross or bead, Or yet was in God's image set. "I fled,-nay, not so knavish low As you have fancied, did I fly; I sought her at that shrine, and I Told her full frankly I should go. "I stood a giant in my power, And did she question or dispute? I stood a savage, selfish brute, She bowed her head, a lily-flower. "And when I sudden turned to go, And told her I should come no more, She bowed her head so low, so low, Her vast black hair fell pouring o'er. "And that was all; her splendid face Was mantled from me, and her night THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Of hair half hid her from my sight As she fell moaning in her place. "And there,'mid her dark night of hair, She sobbed, low moaning through her tears, That she would wait, wait all the years, Would wait and pray in her despair. "Nay, did not murmur, not deny, She did not cross me one sweet word! I turned and fled: I thought I heard A night-bird's piercing low death-cry!" 93 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. PART I I. 1 0 W soft thle moo'izlgit of the South!. How sweet miy Southl in soft moonliglit./ I wvant to kiss lier warin sweet mouth As she lies sleeping here to-nigfht. Howz still! I do niot iear a mouse. Isee sonme bursting buds appear; I kear God ini His garden, zt-ear Him trim some flowers for His house. I kear some singing stars,' thze mouth Of my vast river siigs and sings, And pipes on reeds ofpleasant things, Of splendid promise for my South.' M[y great Soutli-womanii, soon to rise And tiptoe up and loose her hair; Tiptoe, and take from all the skies God's stars and glorious moon to wear! .94 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I. HE poet shall create or kill, Bid heroes live, bid braggarts die, I look against a lurid sky, My silent South lies proudly still. The lurid light of burning lands Still climbs to God's house overhead; Mute women wring white withered hands; Their eyes are red, their skies are red. Poor man! still boast your bitter wars! Still burn and burn, and burning die. But God's white finger spins the stars In calm dominion of the sky. And not one ray of light the less Comes down to bid the grasses spring; No drop of dew nor anything Shall fail for all your bitterness.. The land that nursed a nation's youth, Ye burned it, sacked it, sapped it dry. 95 96 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Ye gave it falsehoods for its truth, And fame was fashioned from a lie. If man grows large, is God the less? The moon shall rise and set the same, The great sun spill his splendid flame And clothe the world in queenliness. And from that very soil ye trod Some large-souled seeing youth shall come Some day, and he shall not be dumb Before the awful court of God. II. The weary moon had turned away, The far North-Star was turning pale To hear the stranger's boastful tale Of blood and flame that battle day. And yet again the two men glared, Close face to face above that tomb; Each seemed as jealous of the room The other eager waiting shared. THE RHYME OF THIE GREAT RIVER. Again the man began to say, — As taking up some broken thread, As talking to the patient dead,The Creole was as still as they: "That night we burned yon grass-grown town, The grasses, vines are reaching up; The ruins they are reaching down, As sun-browned soldiers when they sup. "I knew her,-knew her constancy. She said, this night of every year She here would come, and kneeling here, Would pray the live-long night for me. "This praying seems a splendid thing! It drives old Time the other way; It makes him lose all reckoning Of years that pagans have to pay. "This praying seems a splendid thing! It makes me stronger as she prays — But oh the bitter, bitter days WVhen I became a banished thing! 7 97 98 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. "I fled, took ship,-I fled as far As far ships drive tow'rd the North Star: For I did hate the South, the sun That made me think what I had done. "I could not see a fair palm tree In foreign land, in pleasant place, But it would whisper of her face And shake its keen, sharp blades at me. "Each black-eyed woman would recall A lone church-door, a face, a name, A coward's flight, a soldier's shame: I fled from woman's face, from all. "I hugged my gold, my precious gold, Within my strong, stout, buckskin vest. I wore my bags against my breast So close I felt my heart grow cold. "I did not like to see it now; I did not spend one single piece, I travelled, travelled without cease As far as Russian ship could plow. TItE RlYSIME OF TIHE GREAT RIVER. 99 "And when my own scant hoard was gone, And I had reached the far North-land, I took my two stout bags in hand As one pursued, and journeyed on. "Ah, I was weary! I grew gray; I felt the fast years slip and reel As slip black beads when maidens kneel At altars when out-door is gay. "At last I fell prone in the road, Fell fainting with my cursed load. A skin-clad cossack helped me bear My bags, nor would one shilling share. "He looked at me with proud disdain, He looked at me as if he knew; His black eyes burned me thro' and thro'; His scorn pierced like a deadly pain. "He frightened me with honesty; He made me feel so small, so base, I fled, as if the fiend kept chase,The fiend that claims my company! ::.-..:::- "1 eee. e.-I I s eee ::..::: a@@ 1.'... -', I I00 THE RHYMIE OF THE GREAT RIVER. "I bore my load alone; I crept Far up the steep and icy way; And there, before a cross there lay A barefoot priest, who bowed and wept. "I threw my gold right down and sped Straight on. And, oh, my heart was light! A spring-time bird in spring-timc flight Flies not so happy as I fled. "I felt somehow this monk would take My gold, my load from off my back; Would turn the fiend from off my track, Would take my gold for sweet Christ's sake! "I fled; I did not look behind; I fled, fled with the mountain wind. At last, far down the mountain's base I found a pleasant resting-place. "I rested there so long, so well, More grateful than all tongues can tell. It was such pleasant thing to hear That valley's voices calm and clear. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RINVER. 101 "That valley veiled in mountain air, With white goats on the hills at morn; That valley green with seas of corn, \With cottage islands here and there. "I watched the mountain girls. The hay They mowed was not more sweet than they; They laid brown hands in my white hlair; They marveled at my face of care. "I tried to laugh; I could but weep. I made these peasants one reqluest, That I with them might toil or rest, And with them sleep the long, last sleep. "I begged that I might battle there, For that fair valley-land, for those Who gave me cheer when girt with foes, And have a country, loved and fair. "Where is that spot that poets name Our country? name the hallowed land? Where is that spot where man must stand Or fall when girt with sword and flame? 102 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. "Where is that one permitted spot? Where is the one place man must fight? Where rests the one God-given right To fight, as ever patriots fought? "I say't is in that holy house iWhere God first set us down on earth: Where mother welcomed us at birth, And bared her breasts, a happy spouse. "But when some wrong, some deed of shame, Shall makle that land no more our own Ah! hunger for that holy name My country, I have truly known! "The simple plough-boy from his field * Looks forth. He sees God's purple wall Encircling him. High over all The vast sun wheels his shining shield. "This King, who makes earth what it is, King David bending to his toil! 0 lord and master of the soil, How envied in thy loyal bliss! THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. 103 "Long live the land we loved in youth, That world with blue skies bent about, Where never entered ugly doubt! Long live the simple, homely truth! 'Can true hearts love some far snow-land, Some bleak Alaska bought with gold? God's laws are old as love is old; And Home is something near at hand. "Yea, change yon river's course; estrange The seven sweet stars; make hate divide The full moon from the flowing tide, — But this old truth ye can not change. "I begged a land as begging bread; I begged of these brave mountaineers To share their sorrows, share their tears; To weep as they wept, with their dead. "They did consent. The mountain town Was mine to love, and valley lands. That night the barefoot monk came down And laid my two bags in my hands! 104 THE RHYMIE OF THE GREAT RIVER. ' On! on! And, oh, the load I bore! Why, once I dreamed my soul was lead; Dreamed once it wvas a body dead! It made my cold, hard bosom sore. "I dragged that body forth and back O conscience, what a baying hound! Nor frozen seas nor frosted ground Can throw this bloodhound from his track. "In farthest Russia I lay down A dying man, at last to rest; I felt such load upon my breast As seamen feel, who sinking drown. "That night, all chill and desperate, I sprang up, for I could not rest; I tore the two bags from my breast, And dashed them in the burning grate. "I then crept back into my bed; I tried, I begged, I prayed to sleep; But those red, restless coins would keep Slow dropping, dropping, and blood red. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. 105 "I heard them clink and clink and clink, They turned, they talked within that grate. They talked of her, they made me think Of one who still must pray and wait. "And when the bags burned crisp and black, Two coins did start, roll to the floor, Roll out, roll on, and then roll back, As if they needs must journey more. "Ah, then I knew nor change nor space, Nor all the drowning years that rolled Could hide from me her haunting face, Nor still that red-tongued talking gold. "Again I sprang forth from my bed! I shook as in an ague fit; I clutched that red gold, burning red, I clutched as if to strangle it. "I clutched it up-you hear me, boy? I clutched it up with joyful tears! I clutched it close, with such wild joy I had not felt for years and years! io6 THE RHYME OF TIlE GREAT RIVER. "Such joy! for I should now retrace My steps, should see my land, her face; Bring back her gold this battle day, And see her, see her, hear her pray! "I brought it back-you hear me, boy? I clutch it, hold it, hold it now: Red gold, bright gold that giveth joy To all, and anywhere or how; "That giveth joy to all but me, To all but me, yet soon to all. It burns my hands, it burns! but she Shall ope my hands and let it fall. "For oh I have a willing hand To give these bags of gold; to see Her smile as once she smiled on me Here in this pleasant warm palm-land." He ceased, he thrust each hard-clenched fist, He threw his gold hard forth again, As one impelled by some mad pain He would not or could not resist. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. IO7 The creole, scorning, turned away, As if he turned from that lost thief, The one that died without belief That awful crucifixion day. III. Believe in man, nor turn away. Lo! man advances year by year; Time bears him upward, and his sphere Of life must broaden day by day. Believe in man with large belief; The garnered grain each harvest-time Hath promise, roundness, and full prime For all the empty chaff and sheaf. Believe in man with proud belief: Truth keeps the bottom of her well, And when the thief peeps down, the thief Peeps back at him, perpetual. Faint not that this or that man fell; For one that falls a thousand rise io8 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. To lift white Progress to the skies: Truth keeps the bottom of her well. Fear not for man, nor cease to delve For cool, sweet truth, with large belief Lo! Christ himself chose only twelve, Yet one of these turned out a thief IV. Down through the dark magnolia leaves Where climbs the rose of Cherokee Against the orange-blossomed tree, A loom of moonlight weaves and weaves, A loom of moonlight, weaving clothes From snow-white rose of Cherokee, And bridal blooms of orange-tree, For fairy folk in fragrant rose. Down through the mournful myrtle crape, Through moving moss, through ghostly gloom, A long white moonbeam takes a shape Above a nameless, lowly tomb; THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Io09 A long white finger through the gloom Of grasses gathered round about, As God's white finger pointed out A name upon that nameless tomb. V. Her white face bowed in her black hair, The maiden prays so still within That you might hear a falling pin,Ay, hear her white unuttered prayer The moon has grown disconsolate, Has turned her down her walk of stars: Why, she is shutting up her bars, As maidens shut a lover's gate. The moon has grown disconsolate; She will no longer watch and wait. But two men wait; and two men will Wait on till morning, mute and still: Still wait and walk among the trees, Quite careless if the moon may keep 110 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Her walk along her starry steep Above the Southern pearl-sown seas. They know no moon, or set or rise Of stars, or anything to light The earth or skies, save her dark eyes, This praying, waking, watching night. They move among the tombs apart, Their eyes turn ever to that door; They know the worn walks there by heart They turn and walk them o'er and o'er: They are not wide, these little walks For dead folk by this crescent town; They lie right close when they lie down, As if they kept up quiet talks. VI. The two men keep their paths apart; But more and more begins to stoop The man with gold, as droop and droop Tall plants with something at their heart. THE RHYME OF THlE GREAT RIVER. III Now once again with eager zest He offers gold with silent speech; The other will not walk in reach, But walks around, as round a pest. His dark eyes sweep the scene around, His young face drinks the fragrant air, His dark eyes journey everywhere,The other's cleave unto the ground. It is a weary walk for him, For oh he bears a weary load! He does not like that narrow road Between the dead-it is so dim: It is so dark, that narrow place, Where graves lie thick, like yellow leaves: Give us the light of Christ and grace, Give light to garner in the sheaves. Give light of love; for gold is cold, And gold is cruel as a crime; It gives no light at such sad time As when man's feet wax weak and old. 112 THE RHYMIE OF THIE GREAT RIVER. Ay, gold is heavy, hard, and cold! And have I said this thing before? Well, I will tell it o'er and o'er, 'Twere need be told ten thousand fold. " Give us this day our daily bread," Get this of God, then all the rest Is housed in thine own honest breast, If you but lift a lordly head. VII. Oh, I have seen men, tall and fair, Stoop down their manhood with disgust, Stoop down God's image to the dust, To get a load of gold to bear; Have seen men selling day by day The glance of manhood that God gave: To sell God's image as a slave Might sell some little pot of clay! Behold! here in this green graveyard A man with gold enough to fill THE RHYMIE OF THE GREAT RIVER. A coffin, as a miller's till; And yet his path is hard, so hard! His feet keep sinking the sand, And now so near an opened grave! He seems to hear the solemn wave Of dread oblivion at hand. The sands, they grumble so, it seems As if he walks some shelving brink, He tries to stop, he tries to think, He tries to make believe he dreams: Why, he is free to leave the land, The silver moon is white as dawn; Why, he has gold in either hand, Has silver ways to walk upon. And who should chide, or bid him stay? Or taunt, or threat, or bid him fly? The world's for sale I hear men say, And yet this man has gold to buy. Buy wVhat? Buy rest? He could not rest! Buy gentle sleep? iHe could not sleep, 8 113 114 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Though all these graves were wide and deep As their wide mouths with the request. Buy Love, buy faith, buy snow-white truth? Buy moonlight, sunlight, present, past? Buy but one brimful cup of youth That calm souls drink of to the last? O God!'t is pitiful to see This miser so forlorn and old! O God! how poor a man may be With nothing in this world but gold! VIII. The broad magnolia's blooms are white; Her blooms are large, as if the moon Had lost her way some lazy night, And lodged here till the afternoon. Oh, vast white blossoms breathing love! White bosom of my lady dead, In your white heaven overhead I look, and learn to look above. THE RHYMIE OF THE GREAT RIVER. 115 IX. All night the tall magnolia kept Kind watch above the nameless tomb: Two shapes kept waiting in the gloom And gray of morn, where roses wept. The dew-wet roses wept; their eyes All dew, their breath as sweet as prayer And as they wept the dead down there Did feel their tears and hear their sighs. The grass uprose as if afraid Some stranger foot might press too near; Its every blade was like a spear Its every spear a living blade. The grass above that nameless tomb Stood all arrayed, as if afraid Some weary pilgrim seeking room And rest, might lay where she was laid. x. 'Twas morn, and yet it was not morn; 'T was morn in heaven, not on earth, I 16 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. A star was singing of a birth, Just saying that a day was born. The marsh hard by that bound the lalke, The great low sea-lake, Ponchartrain, Shut off from sultry Cuban main,-ly Drew up its legs, as half awake. Drew long stork legs, long legs that steep In slime where aligators creep, — Drew long green legs that stir the grass, As when the late lorn night-winds pa;-s. Then from the marsh came croakings low, Then louder croakedsome sea-marsh beast; Then, far away against the east, God's rose of morn began to grow. From out the marsh, against that east, A ghostly moss-swept cypress stood; VVith ragged arms above the wood It rose, a God-forsaken beats. It seemed so frightened where it rose! The moss-hung thing it seemed to wave THE RHYM.E OF THIE GREAT RIVER. I117 The worn-out garments of the grave, To wave and wave its old grave-clothes. Close by, a cow rose up and lowed From out a palm-thatched milking-shed. A black boy on the river road Fled sudden, as the night had fled: A nude black boy, a bit of night That had been broken off and lost From flying night, the time it crossed The surging river in its flight: A bit of darkness, following The sable night on sable wing, A bit of darkness stilled with fear, Because that nameless tomb was near. Then holy bells came pealing out; Then steamboats blew, then horses neighed; Then smoke from hamlets round about Crept out, as if no more afraid. Then shrill cocks here, and shrill cocks there, Stretched glossy necks and filled the air. IlS THE RHYME OF TilE GREAT RIVER. How many cocks it takes to malke A country morning well awake! Then many boughs, with many birds, Young boughs in green, old boughs in gray, These birds had very much to say In their soft, sweet, familiar words. And all seemed sudden glad; the gloom Forgot the church, forgot the tomb; And yet like monks with cross and bead The myrtles leaned to read and read. And oh the fragrance of the sod! And oh the perfume of the air! The sweetness, sweetness everywhere, That rose like incense up to God! I like a cow's breath in sweet spring, I like the breath of babes new-born; A maid's breath is a pleasant thing, But oh the breath of sudden morn! Of sudden morn, when every pore Of mother earth is pulsing fast THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I119 With life, and life seems spilling o'er With love, with love too sweet to last: Of sudden morn beneath the sun, By God's great river wrapped in gray, That for a space forgets to run, And hides his face as if to pray. XI. The black-eyed Creole kept his eyes Turned to the door, as eyes might turn To see the holy embers burn Some sin away at sacrifice. Full dawn! but yet he knew no dawn, Nor song of bird, nor bird on wing, Nor breath of rose, nor anything Her fair face lifted not upon. And yet he taller stood with morn; His bright eyes, brighter than before, Burned fast against that fastened door, His proud lips lifting up with scorn, 120 TIlE RHYME OF THtE GREAT RIVER. With lofty, silent scorn for one Who all night long had plead and plead, With none to witness but the dead How he for gold must be undone. Oh, ye who feed a greed for gold, And barter truth, and trade sweet youth For cold hard gold, behold, behold! Behold this man! behold this truth! Why, what is there in all God's plan Of vast creation, high or low, By sea or land, by sun or snow, So mean, so miserly as man? Iso, earth and heaven all let go Their garnered riches, year by year! The treasures of the trackless snow, Ah, hast thou seen how very dclear? The wide earth gives, gives golden grain, Gives fruits of gold, gives all, givcs all! Hold forth your hand, and tihclse shall fall In your full palm as free as rain. THE RHYME OF TIIE GREAT RIVER. 121 Yea, earth is generous. The trees Strip nude as birthl-time vithout fear, And their reward is year by year To feel their fulness but increase. The law of Nature is to give, To give, to give! and to rejoice In giving with a generous voice, And so trust God and truly live. But see this miser at the last, This man who loves, grasps hold of gold, Who grasps it with such eager hold, To hold forever hard and fast: As if to hold what God lets go; As if to hold, while all around Lets go. and drops upon the ground All things as generous as snow. Let go your greedy hold, I say! Let go your hold! Do not refuse 'Till death comes by and shakes you loose, And sends you shamed upon your way. 122 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. What if the sun should keep his gold? The rich moon lock her silver up? What if the gold-clad buttercup Became a miser, mean and old? Ah, me! the coffins are so true In all accounts, the shrouds so thin, That down there you might sew and sew, Nor ever sew one pocket in. And all that you can hold of lands Down there, below the grass, down there, Will only be that little share You hold in your two dust-full hands. XII. She comes! she comes! The stony floor Speaks out! And now the rusty door At last has just one word this day, With mute religious lips, to say. She comes! she comes! And lo, her face Is upward, radiant, fair as prayer! THE RItYME OF TIHE GREAT RIVER. 123 So pure here in this holy place, Where holy peace is everywhere. Her upraised face, her face of light And loveliness, from duty done, Is like a rising orient sun That pushes back the brow of night. How brave, how beautiful is truth! Good deeds untold are like to this. But fairest of all fair things is A pious maiden in her youth: A pious maiden as she stands Just on the threshold of the years That throb and pulse with hopes and fears, And reaches God her helpless hands. How fair is she! How fond is she! Her foot upon the threshold there. Her breath is as a blossomed tree, This maiden mantled in her hair! Her hair, her black, abundant hair, \Where night, inhabited all night 124 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. And all this day, will not take flight, But finds content and houses there. Her hands are clasped, her two small hands: They hold the holy book of prayer Just as she steps the threshold there, Clasped downward where she silent stands. XIII. Once more she lifts her lowly face, And slowly lifts her large, dark eyes Of wonder, and in still surprise She looks full forward in her place. She looks full forward on the air Above the tomb, and yet below The fruits of gold, the blooms of snow, As looking —looking anywhere. She feels-she knows not what she feels; It is not terror, is not fear, But there is something that reveals A presence that is near and dear. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I25 She does not let her eyes fall down, They lift against the far profound: Against the blue above the town Two wide-winged vultures circle rou.nd. Two brown birds swim above the sea,Her large eyes swim as dreamily And follow far, and follow high, Two circling black specks in the sky. One forward step,-the closing door Creaks out, as frightened or in pain; Her eyes are on the ground againTwo men are standing close before. My love," sighs one, "my life, my all!" Her lifted foot across the sill Sinks down,-and all things are so still You hear the orange Blossoms fall. But fear comes not where duty is, And purity is peace and rest; Her cross is close upon her breast, Her two hands clasp hard hold of this. 126 THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. Her two hands clasp cross, book, and she Is strong in tranquil purity,Ay, strong as Samson when he laid His two hands forth, and bowed and prayed. One at her left, one at her right, And she between, the steps upon,I can but see that Syrian night, The women there at early dawn. 'T is strange, I know, and may be wrong, But, ever, pictured in my song; And rhyming on, I see the day They came to roll the stone away. XIV. The sky is like an opal sea, The air is like the breath of kine, But, oh, her face is white and she Leans faint to see a lifted sign, To see two hands lift up and wave To see a face so white with woe, THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. I127 So ghastly, hollow, white as though It had that moment left the grave. Her sweet face at that ghostly sign, Her fair face in her weight of hair, Is like a white dove drowning there,A white dove drowned in Tuscan wine. He tries to stand, to stand erect, 'Tis gold,'tis gold that holds him down! And soul and body both must drown,Two millstones tied about his neck. Now once again his piteous face Is raised to her face reaching there. He prays,such piteous, silent prayer, As prays a dying man for grace. It is not good to see him strain To lift his hands, to gasp, to try To speak. His parched lips are so dry Their sight is as a living pain. I think that rich man down in hell Some like this old man with his gold, 12S THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. To gasp and gasp perpetual Like to this minute I have told. xv. At last the miser cries his pain, A shrill, wild cry, as if a grave Just ope'd its stony lips and gave One sentence forth, then closed again. "'Twas twenty years last night, last night!" His lips still moved, but not to speak; His outstretched hands so trembling weak Were beggar's hands in sorry plight. His face upturned to hers, his lips Kept talking on, but gave no sound; His feet were cloven to the ground; Like iron hooks his finger tips. "Ay, twenty years," she sadly sighed: "I promised mother every year, That I would pray for father here, As she had prayed, the night she died: THIE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. "To pray as she prayed, fervidly; As she had promised she would pray The sad night of her marriage day. For him, wherever he might be." Then she was still; then sudden she Let fall her eyes, and so outspake As if her very heart would break, Her proud lips trembling piteously: "And whether he comes soon or late To kneel beside this nameless grave, May God forgive my father's hate As I forgive, as she forgave!" He saw the stone; he understood, With that quick knowledge that will come Most quick when men are made most dumb With terror that stops still the blood. And then a blindness slowly fell On soul and body; but his hands Held tight his bags, two iron bands, As if to bear them into hell. 9 I29 l0 THE RHYMIE OF THE GREAT RIVER. He sank upon the nameless stone With, oh, such sad, such piteous moan As never man might seek to know From man's most unforgiving foe. He sighed at last, so long, so deep, As one's heart breaking in one's sleep, One long, last, weary, willing sigh, As if it were a grace to die. And then his hands, like loosened bands, Hung down, hung down on either side; His hands hung down and opened wide: He rested in the orange lands. ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. PART I. RIYIIE VAL forests.' virgia sod.' That Saxotl haz 1 zot raish'd yet Lo.' Ieak on peak ill stairways set — Ih ste/fii/ag stairs that reach to God.' Here we are free as sea or wind, For here are set Timde's shzowy texts I e'z,erlas/lilg batl//ecaz/s Against the amarch of Saxoz minid. A\R up in the hush of the Amazon River, And mantled and hung in the tropical trees, There are isles as grandas the isles of the seas And the waves strike strophes, and keen reeds quiver, As the sudden canoe shoots a-past them and over The strong, still tide to the opposite shore, Where the blue-eyed men by the sycamore Sit mending their nets'neath the vine-twined cover; 131 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Sit weaving their threads of bark and grasses, They wind and they spin, on the clumsy wheel, Into hammocks red-hued with the cochineal, To trade with the single black ship that passes, With foreign old freightage of curious old store, And as still and as slow as if half asleep, A cunning old trader that loves to creep Above and a-down in the shade of the shore. And the blue-eyed men that are mild as the dawns Oh, delicate dawns of the grand Andes! Lift up soft eyes that are deep like seas, And mild yet wild as the red-white fawns'; And they gaze into yours, then weave, then listen, Then look in wonder, then again weave on, Then again look wonderthat you are not gone, While the keen reeds quiver and the bent waaves glisten; Bit they say no words while they weave and wonder, I32 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Though they sometimes sing, voiced lowv like the dove, And as deep and as rich as their tropical love, A-weaving their net threads through and under. Yea, a pure, true people you may trust are these, That weave their threads where the quick leaves quiver; And this is their tale of the Isles of the river, And the why that their eyes are so blue like seas, And the why that the men draw water and bear The wine or the water in the wild boar skin, And do live in the wvoods and do wTeavxe and spin, And so bear with the women full burthen and share. A curious old tale of a curious old time, That is told you betimes by a quaint old crone, VWho sits on the rim of an island alone, As ever was told you in story or rhyme. Her brown, bare feet dip down to the river, And dabble and plash to her monotone tone, 133 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. As she holds in her hands a strange green stone, And talks to the boat where the bent reeds quiver. And the quaint old crone has a singular way Of holding her head to the side and askew, And smoothing the stone in her palms all day As saying "I've nothing at all for you," Until you have anointed her palm, and you Have touched on the delicate spring of a door That silver has opened perhaps before; For woman is woman the wide world through. The old near truth on the far new shore I bought and I paid for it; so did you: The tale may be false or the tale may be true; I give it as I got it, and who can more? If I have made journeys to difficult shores, And woven delusions in innocent verse, If none be the wiser, why, who is the worse? The field it was mine, the fruit it is yours. I34 ISI.ES OF THE AMAZONS. A sudden told tale. You may read as you run. A part of it hers, some part is my own, Crude, and too carelessly woven and sown, As I sail'd on the Mexican seas in the sun. 'Twas nations ago, when the Amazons were, That a fair young knight-says the quaint old crone, With her head sidewise, as she smoothes at the stoneCame over the seas, with his golden hair, And a great black steed, and glittering spurs, And a sword that had come from crusaders down, And a womanly face in a manly frown, And a heart as tender and as true as hers. And fairest, and foremost in love as in war Was the brave young knight of the brave old days. Of all the knights, with their knightly ways, That had journey'd away to the world afar In the name of Spain; of the splendid few Who bore her banner in the new-born world, I35 ISLES OF THE AMAZCNS. From the sea rim up to where clouds are curl'd, And the condors beat their wings in the blue. He was born, says the crone, where the brave are fair, And blown from the banks of the Guadal quiver, And yet blue-eyed, with the Celt's soft hair, WVith never a drop of the dark, deep river Of Moorish blood that had swept through Spain, And plash'd the world with its tawny stain. His heart it rebell'd and arose with pity; He sat on his steed, and his sword was bloody \With heathen blood: the battle was done; And crown'd in fire, wreathed and ruddy \Vith antique temples built up to the sun, Below on the plain lay the beautiful city At the conqueror's feet; the red street strewn \Vithl dead, with gold, and with gods over thrown. He raised his head with a proud disdain, He rein'd his steed on the reeking plain, As the heathen pour'd, in a helpless flood, 136 ,,:: t::: ISLES OF TIlE AMIAZONS. With never a wail and with never a blow, At last, to even provoke a toe, Through gateways, wet with the pagan's blood. "Ho, forward! smite!" but the minstrel linger'd, He reach'd his hand and he touchl'd the rein, He humm'd an air, and he toy'd and finger'd The arching neck and the glossy mane. He rested the heel, he rested the hand, Though the thing was death to the man to dare To doubt, to question, to falter there, Nor heeded at all to the hot command. He wiped his steel on his black steed's mane, He sheathed it deep, then look'd at the sun, Then counted his comrades, one by one, With booty return'd from the plunder'd plain. He lifted his face to the flashing snow, He lifted his shield of steel as he sang, And he flung it away till it clang'd and rang On the granite rocks in the plain below, Then cross'd his bosom. Made overbold, I I') 7 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. He lifted his voice and sang, quite low At first, then loud in the long ago, When a love endured though the days grew old. They heard his song, the chief on the plain Stood up in his stirrups, and, sword in hand, He cried and he call'd with a loud commnand To the blue-eyed boy to return again; To lift his shield again to the sky, And come and surrender his sword or die. He wove his hand in the stormy mane, He lean'd him forward, he lifted the rein, He struck the flank, he wheel'd and sprang, And gaily rode in the face of the sun, And bared his sword and he bravely sang, "Ho! come and take it!" but there came not one. And so he sang with his face to the south: "I shall go; I shall search for the Amazon shore, Where the curses of man they are heard no more, And kisses alone shall embrace the mouth. 138 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. "I shall journey in search of the Incan Isles, Go far and away to traditional land, Where Love is a queen in a crown of smiles, And battle has never imbrued a hand; "Where man has never despoil'd or trod, Where woman's hand with a woman's heart Has fashion'd an Eden from man apart, And she walks in her garden alone with God. "I shall seek that Eden, and all my years Shall sit and repose, shall sing in the sun; And the tides may rest or the tides may run, And men may water the world with tears: "And the years may come and the years may go, And men make war, may slay and be slain, But I not care, for I never shall know Of man, or of aught that is man's again. "The waves may battle, the winds may blow, The mellow rich moons may ripen and fall, The seasons of gold they may gather or go, The mono may chatter, the paroquet call, And who shall take heed, take note, or shall know I39 ISLES OF TIlE AMAZONS. If the Fates befriend, or if ill befall, Of worlds without, or of worlds at all, Of heaven above, or of hades below." 'Twas the song of a dream and the dream of a singer, Drawn fine as the delicate fibres of gold, And broken in two by the touch of a finger, And blown as the winds blow, rent and roll'd In dust, and spent as a tale that is told. Alas! for his dreams and the songs he sung; The beasts beset him; the serpents they hung, Red-tongued and terrible, over his head. He clove and he thrust with his keen, quick steel, He coax'd with his hand, he urged with his heel, Till his steel was broken, and his steed lay dead. He toil'd to the river, he lean'd intent To the wave, and away through the fringe of boughs, From beasts that pursued; and breathed his vows, For soul and body were well-nigh spent. I40 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. 'Twas the king of rivers, and the Isles were near; Yet it moved so strange, so still, so strong, It gave no sound, not even the song Of a sea-bird screaming defiance or fear. It was dark and dreadful! \Wide like an ocean, Much like a river but more like a sea, Save that there was naught of the turbulent motion Of tides, or of winds blown back, or a-lee. Yea, strangely strong was the wave and slow, And half-way hid in the dark deep tide, Great turtles they paddled them to and fro, And away to the Isles and the opposite side. The nude black boar through abundant grass Stole down to the water and buried his nose, And crunch'd white teeth till the bubbles rose As white and as bright as are globes of glass. Yea, steadily moved it, mile upon mile, Above and below and as still as the air; The bank made slippery here and there IBy the slushing slide of the crocodile. 14I ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. The great trees bent to the tide like slaves; They dipp'd their boughs as the stream swept on, And then drew back, then dipp'd and were gone, Away to the seas with the resolute waves. The land was the tide's; the shore was undone; It look'd as the lawless, unsatisfied seas Had thrust up an arm through the tangle of trees, And clutch'd at the citrons that grew in the sun; And clutch'd at the diamonds that hid in the sand, And laid heavy hand on the gold, and a hand On the redolent fruits, on the ruby-like wine, And the stones like the stars when the stars are divine; Had thrust through the rocks of the ribb'd Andes; Had wrested and fled; and had left a waste And a wide way strewn in precipitate haste, As he bore them away to the buccaneer seas. 0, heavens, the eloquent song of the silence! Asleep lay the sun in the vines, on the sod, 142 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And asleep in the sun lay the green-girdled islands, As rock'd to their rest in the cradle of God. God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken, And yet so profound, so loud, and so far, It fills you, it thrills you with measures un broken, And as still, and as fair, and as far as a star. The shallow seas moan. From the first they have mutter'd, As a child that is fretted, and wept at their will.. The poems of God are too grand to be utter'd: The dreadful deep seas they are loudest when still. "I shall fold my hands, for this is the river Of death," he said, "and the sea-green isle Is all Eden set by the gracious Giver \\Wherein to rest." He listen'd the while, Then lifted his head, then lifted a hand Arch'd over his brow, and he lean'd and listen'd, I43 ISLES OF TIE AMIAZONS. 'Twas only a bird on a border of sand, The dark stream eddied and gleam'd and glisten'd, Stately and still as the march of a moon, And the martial notes from the isle were gone, Gone as a dream dies out with the dawn, And gone as far as the night from the noon. 'Twas only a bird on a border of sand, Slow piping, and diving it here and there, Slim, grey, and shadowy, light as the air, That dipp'd below from a point of the land, "Unto God a prayer and to love a tear, And I die," he said, "in a desert here, So deep that never a note is heard P)ut the listless song of that soulless bird." The strong trees lean'd in their love unto trees. Lock'd arms in their loves, and were so made strong, Stronger than armies; aye, stronger than seas That rush from their caves in a storm of song, I44 ISLES OF THE AMIAZONS. "A miser of old, his last great treasure Flung far in the sea, and he fell and he died; And so shall I give, O terrible tide, To you my song and my last sad measure." He blew on a reed by the still, strong river, Blew low at first, like a dream, then long, Then loud, then loud as the keys that quiver, And fret and toss with their freight of song. He sang and he sang with a resolute will, Till the mono rested above on his haunches, And held his head to the side and was still, Till a bird blown out of the night of branches, Sang sadder than love, so sweeter than sad, Till the boughs did burthen and the reeds did fill With beautiful birds, and the boy was glad. Our loves they are told by the myriad-eyed stars, Yet love it is well in a reasonable way, And fame it is fair in its way for a day, Borne dusty from books and bloody from wars; And death, I say, is an absolute need, And a calm delight, and an ultimate good; But a song that is blown from a watery reed 10 I45 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. By a soundless deep from a boundless wood, \With never a hearer to heed or to prize But God and the birds and the hairy wild beasts, Is sweeter than love, than fame, or than feasts, Or any thing else that is under the skies. The quick leaves quiver'd, and the sunlight danced; As the boy sang sweet, and the birds said, "Sweet;" And the tiger crept close, and lay low at his feet, And he sheathed his claws as he gazed en tranced. Theserpent that hung from the sycamore bough, And sway'd his head in a crescent above, Had folded his neck to the white limb now, And fondled it close like a great black love. But the hands grew weary, the heart wax'd faint, The loud notes fell to a far-off plaint, The sweet birds echo'd no more, "Oh, sweet," The tiger arose and unsheathed his claws, The serpent extended his iron jaws, I46 ISLES OF TIHE AMIAZONS. And the frail reed shiver'd and fell at his feet. A sound on the tide, and he turn'd and cried, "Oh, give God thanks, for they come they come!" He look'd out afar on the opaline tide, Then clasp'd his hands, and his lips were dumb. A sweeping swift crescent of sudden canoes! As light as the sun of the south and as soon, And true and as still as a sweet half-moon That leans from the heavens, and loves and woos! The Amazons came in their martial pride, As full on the stream as a studding of stars, All girded in armor as girded in wars, In foamy white furrows dividing the tide. With a face as brown as the boatmen's are, Or the brave, brown hand of a harvester; The Queen on a prow stood splendid and tall, As petulant waters would lift and fall; Stood forth for the song, half lean'd in sur prise, Stood fair to behold, and yet grand to behold, I47 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And austere in her face, and saturninie-soul'd, And sad and subdued, in her eloquent eyes. And sad were they all; yet tall and serene Of presence, but silent, and brow'd severe As for some things lost, or for some fair, green, And beautiful place, to the memory dear. " O Mother of God! Thrice merciful saint! I am saved!" he said, and he wept outright; Ay, wept as even a woman might, For the soul was full and the heart was faint. "Stay! stay!" cried the Queen, and she leapt to the land, And she lifted her hand, and she lowered their spears, " A woman! a woman! ho! help! give a hand! A woman! a woman! we know by thc tears." Then gently as touch of the truest of woman, They lifted hinm up from the earthas he fell, And into the boat, with a half hidden swell Of the heart that was holy and tenderly hu mnan. I48 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. They spoke low-voiced as a vesper prayer; They pillow'd his head as only the hand Of woman can pillow, and push'd from the land, And the Queen she sat threading the gold of his hair. Then away with the wave, and away to the Isles, In a song of the oars of the crescented fleet That timed together in musical wiles And bubbles of melodies swift and sweet. I49 PART II. ORSAKE the People. What are they ['hat lauglh, that live, that loze by rzle? Forsake the Saxoz..'hat are tlhese That shun the shadoes of tlhe trees. The Druidforests?.. Go thy way, We azre iot oie. I will aeot l/ase You:-fare you well, 0 wiser fool' But you whzo love mie;-Ye who love Thze shaggy foresis, ferce dcligb/ts Of soauzdliuig wa,c;//lls, of hc/ighlts Thai lizig i.ce ibrokeni mzooizs above, [fti/h brows of biiize that brush i/ice suuz, Belicz,c azd follow. WVe are one; Thze wild miiaz shall to us be tazme; Thle oods shall yield thezr mysteries, Thle stars shall azswer to a iiamze, Au4d be as birds above the trees. HEY swept to the Isles through the fulr rows of foam, They alit on the land as love hastening homc, And below the banana, with leaf like a tent, They tenderly laid him, they bade him takle rest, They brought him strange fishes and fruits of the best, And he ate and took rest with a patient content. 150 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. They watch'd him well; he rose up strong; He stood in their midst, and they said, "How fair!" And they said, "How tall!" And they toy'd with his hair. And they touched his limbs and they said, "How long! And how strong they are; and how brave she is, That she made her way through the wiles of man, That she braved his wrath that she broke the ban Of his desolate life for the love of this!" They wrought for him armor of cunning attire, They brought him a sword and a great shell shield, And implored him to shiver the lance on the field, And to follow their beautiful Queen in her ire. But he took him apart; then the Amazons came And entreated of him with their eloquent eyes And their earnest and passionate souls of flame, I5I ISLES OF TIlE AMlAZONS. And the soft, sweet words that are broken of sighs, To be one of their own; but he still denied And bow'd and abash'd he stole further aside. He stood by the Palms and he lean'd in unrest, And standing alone, looked out and afar, For his own fair land where the castles are, With irresolute arms en a restless breast. He re-lived his loves, he recall'd his wars, He gazed and he gazed with a soul distress'd, Like a far sweet star that is lost in the west, Till the day was broken to a dust of stars. They sigh'd, and they left him alone in the care Of faithfullest matron; they moved to the field With the lifted sword and the sounding shield High fretting magnificent storms of hair. And, true as the moon in her march of stars, The Queen stood forth in her fierce attire Worn as they trained or worn in the wvars, As bright and as chaste as a flash of fire. With girdles of gold and of silver cross'd, And plaited, and chlased, and bound together, I52 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Broader and stronger than belts of leather, Culninigly fashion'd and blazon'd and boss'd \Vith diamonds circling her, stone upon stone, Above the breast where the borders fail, Belowv the breast where the fringes zone, She moved in a glittering garment of mail. The form made hardy and the waist made spare From athlete sports and adventures bold, The breastplate, fasten'd with clasps of gold, \Vas clasp'd, as close as the breasts could bear, —. And bound and drawn to a delicate span, It flash'd in the red front ranks of the field\Was fashion'd full trim in its intricate plan And gleam'd as a sign, as well as a shield, That the virgin Queen was unyielding still, And p)ure as the tides that around her ran; True to her trusf, and strong in her will Of war, and hatred to the touch of man. The field it was theirs in storm or in shine, So fairly they stood that the foe came not To the battle again, and the fair forgot The rage of battle; and they trimm'd the vine, They tended the fields of tilhe tall green corn, I53 ISLES OF THIE AMAZONS. They crush'd the grape and they drewv the wine In great round gourds or the bended horn, And seemed as souls that are half divine. They bathed in the wave in the amber morn, They took repose in the peaceful shade Of eternal palms, and were never afraid; Yet oft did they sigh, and look far and forlorn. \Where the rim of the wave was weaving a spell, And the grass grew soft where it hid from the sun, Would the Amazons gather them every one At the call of the Queen orthe sound of hershelil: WVould come in strides through the kingly trees, And train and marshal them brave and wvell In thle golden noon, in the hush of peace \Where the shifting shades of the fan-palims fell; \N-ould train till flush'd and as warm as wine, WVould reach with their limbs, would thrust with the lance, Attack, retire, retreat and advance, Then wheel in column, then fall in line; I54 ISLES OF TIHE AMAZONS. Stand thigh and thigh with the limbs made hard And rich and round as the swift limb'd pard, Or a racer train'd, or a white bull caught In the lasso's toils, where the tame are not: \Vould curve as the waves curve, swerve in line; WVould dash through the trees, would train with the bow, Then back to the lines, now sudden, then slow, Then flash their swords in the sun at a sign; \Would settle the foot right firm afront, Then sound the shield till the sound was heard Afar, as the horn in the black boar hunt; Yet, strangest of all, say never one word. \When shadows fell far from the westward, aind when The sun had kiss'd hands and made sal fci the east, They would kindle the fires and gatlher- tl-cm then, \Vell-wNorn and most merry with song, to the feast. They sang of all things, but the one, sacred one, 155 i56 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. That could make them most glad, as they lifted the gourd And pass'd it around, with its rich purple hoard, From the Island that lay with its front to the sun. Though lips were most luscious, and eyes as divine As the eyes of the skies that bend down from above; Though hearts were made glad and most mellow with love, As dripping gourds drain'd of their burthens of wine; Though brimming, and dripping, and bent of their shape \Were the generous gourds from the juice of the grape, They could sing not of love, they could breathe not a thought Of the savor of life; of love sought, or un sought. Their loves they were not; they had banish'd the name ......'.:: ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Of man, and the uttermost mention of love, The moonbeams about them, the quick stars above, The mellow-voiced waves, they were ever the same, In sign, and in saying, of the old true lies; But they took no heed; no answering sign, Save glances averted and half-hush'd sighs, Went back from the breasts with their loves divine. They sang of their freedom with a will, and well, They paid for it well when the price was blood; They beat on the shield, and they blew on the shell, When their wars were not, for they held it good To be glad and to sing till the flush of the day, In an annual feast, when the broad leaves fell; Yet some sang not, and some sighed "Ah well!" For there's far less left you to sing or to say, \When mettlesome love is banish'd, I ween, To hint at as hidden, or to half disclose In the swift sword-cuts of the tongue, made keen With wine at a feast,-than one would suppose. I57 ISLES OF THE AMAIZONS. So the days wore by, but they brought no rest To the minstrel knight, though the sun was as gold, And the Isles were green, and the great Queen blest In the splendor of arms, and as pure as bold. He would now resolve to reveal to her all, His sex and his race in a well-timed song; And his love of peace, his hatred of wrong, And his own deceit, though the sun should fall. Then again he would linger, and knew not how He could best proceed, and deferr'd him now Till a favorite day, then the fair day came, And still he delay'd, and reproachd him the same. And he still said nought, but, subduinghishead, He wander'd by day in a dubious spell Of unutterable thought of the truth unsaid, To the indolent shore, and hegather'dashell, And heshaped its point to his passionate mouth, And he turn'd to a bank and began to blow, While the Amazons trained in a troop below, And as soft and as sweet as a kiss of the south.' I58 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. The Amazons lifted with glad surprise, Stood splendid at first and look'd far and fair, Set forward a foot, and shook back their hair, IJike clouds push'd back from the sun-lit skies. It stirr'd their souls, and they ceased to train In troop by the shore, as the tremulous strain Fell down from the hill through the tasselling trees; And a murmur of song, like the sound of bees In the clover crown of a queenly spring, Came back unto him, and he laid the shell Aside on the bank, and began to sing Of eloquent love; and the ancient spell Of passionate song was his, and the Isle, As waked to delight from its slumber long, Came back in echoes; yet all this while He knew not at all the sin of his song. I59 PART III. I KNOW upon this earth a spot Where clinking coins, that clank as chains Upon the souls of mnten, are not; Nor man is measured for his gains Of gold that streams with crimon stains. The snow-topp'd towers crush the clouds And break the still abode of stars, Like sudden ghosts in snowy shrouds, Neit broken through their earthly bars, And condors whet their crooked beaks On lofty limits of the peaks. O men that fret as frets the main! You irk mne with your eager gaze Down in the earth for fat increaseEternal talks of gold and gain, Your shallow wit, your shallow ways, And breaks my soul across the shoal As breakers break on shallow seas. HEY bared their brows to the palms above, But some look'd level into comrades' eyes, And they then remember'd that the thought of love Was the thing forbidden, and they sank in sighs. 160 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. They turned from the training, to heed in throng To the old, old tale; and they trained no more, As he sang of love; and some on the shore, And full in the sound of the eloquent song, With a womanly air and irresolute will Went listlessly onward as gathering shells; Then gazed in the waters, as bound in spells; Then turned to the song and so sighli'd, and were still. And they said no word. Some tapp'd on the sand With the sandal'd foot, keeping time to the sound, In a sort of dream; some timed with the hand, And one held eyes full of tears to the ground. She thought of the days when their wars they were not, As she lean'd and listened to the old, old song, When they sang of their loves, and she well forgot The hard oppressions and a world of wrong. 11 I6I ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Like a pure true woman, with her trust in tears And the things that are true, she re-lived them in thought, Though hush'd and crush'd in the fall of the years; She lived but the fair, and the false she for got As a tale long told, or as things that are dreams; And the quivering curve of the lip it confest The silent regrets, and a soul that teems With a world of love in a brave true breast. Then this one, younger, who had known no love, Nor look'd upon man but in blood on the fielcd, She bow'd her head, and she leaned oii her shield, And her heart beat quick as the wings of a dove That is blown from the sea, where the rests are not In the time of storms; and by instinct taui,ht Grew pensive, and sigh'd; as she thought and she thought Of some wonderful things, and-she knew not of what. Then this one thought of a love forsaken, I62 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. She thought of a brown sweet babe, and she thought Of the bread-fruits gather'd, of the swift fish taken In intricate nets, like a love well sought. She thought of the moons of her maiden dawn, MAellow'd andfair with the forms of man; So dearer indeed to dwell upon Than the beautiful waves that around her ran; So fairer indeed than the fringes of light That lie at rest on the west of the sea In furrows of foam on the borders of night, And dearer indeed than the songs to be — Than calling of dreams from the opposite land, To the land of life, and of journeys dreary, \When the soul goes over from the form grown weary, And walks in the cool of the trees on the strand. But the Queen was enraged and would smite him at first With the sword unto death, yet it seemed that she durst Not touch him at all; and she moved as to chide, And she lifted her face, and she frown'd at his side, I63 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Then touch'd on his arm; then she looked in his eyes And right full in his soul, but she saw no fear, In the pale fair face, and with frown severe She press'd her lips as suppressing her sighs. She banish'd her wrath, she unbended her face, She lifted her hand and put back his hair From his fair sad brow, with a penitent air, And forgave him all with an unuttered grace. But she said no word, yet no more was severe; She stood as subdued by the side of him still, Then averted her face with a resolute will, As to hush a regret, or to hide back a tear. She sighed to herself; "A stranger is this, And ill and alone, that knows not at all That a throne shall totter and the strong shall fall, At the mention of love and its banefullest bliss, O life that is lost in bewildering love But a stranger is sacred!" She lifted a hand And she laid it as soft as the breast of a dove On the minstrel's mouth. It was more than the wand I64 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Of the tamer of serpents, for she did no more Than to bid with her eyes and to beck with her hand, And the song drew away to the waves of the shore; Took wings, as it were, to the verge of the land. But her heart was oppress'd. With penitent head She turn'd to her troop, and, retiring, she said: "Alas! and alas! shall it come to pass That the panther shall die fromn a bladce of grass? That the tiger shall yield at the bent-)lorn blast? That we, who have conquer'd a world and all Of men and of beasts in the worldl mu,st fall Ourselves at the mention of love, at last?" The singer was fretted, and farther apart He wander'd, perplex'd; and he felt his heart Beat quick and troubled, and all untamed, As he saw her move with marveiou:s grace To her troop below; he turn'd from his. place, Oppress'd and humbled, and sore ashamed That he lived in the land in the shield of a lie; 165 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. That he dared not stand forth face to face To the truth, and die as a knight should die. The tall Queen turn'd to her troop, She led the minstrel and all to the innermost part Of the palm-crown'd Isle, where great trees group In armies, to battle when black storms start, And made her retreat from the sun by the trees That are topp'd like tents, where the fire-flies Are a light to the feet, and a fair lake lies As cool as the coral-set centres of seas. The palm-trees lorded the copse like kings, Their tall tops tossing the indolent clouds That folded the Isle in the dawn, like shrouds, Then fled from the sun like to living things. The cockatoo swung in the vines below, And muttering hung on a golden thread, Or moved on the moss'd bough to and fro, In plumes of gold and array'd in red. The lake lay hidden away from the light, As asleep in the Isle from the tropical noon, i66 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And narrow and bent like a new-born moon, And fair as a moon in the noon of the night. 'Twas shadow'd by forests, and fringed by ferns, And fretted anon by the fishes that leapt At indolent flies that slept or kept Their drowsy tones on the tide by turns. And here in the dawn when the day was strong And newly aroused from leafy repose, VVith dews on his feet and tints of the rose In his great fiush'd face was a sense and song That the tame old world has nor known nor heard. The soul was fill'd with the soft perfumes, The eloquent wings of the humming bird Beguiled the heart, they purpled the air And allured the eye, as so everywhere On the rim of the wave or across it in rings, They swept or they sank in a sea of blooms, And wove and wound in a song of rings. A bird in scarlet and gold, made mad With sweet delights, through the branches slid And kiss'd the lake on a drowsy lid Till the ripples ran and the face was glad: I67 ISLES )OF TIE TilAMAXOUNS. \a: ",,,1 and lovely as lights that sweep hic facc of hleaxveni wven the stars are forth autumni time tlhrough the awful north, (Oi:- tc face of a child when it smiles in sleep. ASK.ei liere was the Queen, in the tropical noon, N Vihe,n the wave and the world and all were asleep, And nothing look'd forth to betray or to peep l' j'o!,h glories of jungle in garments of June, t-h,tle with her court in the waters that bent i! tie beautiful lake through tasseling trees, ',id the tangle of blooms in a burden of bees, L. old and as sharp as a bow unspent. An(l strangely still, and more strangely sweet, Vias the lake that lay in its cradle of fern, A;s still as a moon with her horns that turn In the night, like lamps to some delicate feet. Th'ey came and they stood by the brink of the tidte, Tiney hung their shields on the boughs of the trees, ic-!en'd their lances against the side, _; i- I ISLES OF TllE AMAZONS. Unloosed their sandials, and busy as bees Unibather'd their robes in the rustle of leaves That wounld tlhel as close as the winle-vine weaves. The minstrel here falter'd, and further aside Than ever before hle averted his head; He pick'd up a pebble and fretted the tide, Then turn'd with a countenance flush'd and red, He feign'd him ill, he wander'd away, He sat him down by tile waters alone, And pray'd for pardon, as a knight should pray, And rued an error not all his own. Tile Amazons press'd to the girdle of reeds, Two and by twvo they advanced to the wave, They challenged each other, and bade be brave, And banter'd, and vaunted of valorous deeds. They push'd and they parted the curtains of green, All timid at nfrst; then looked at the wave And laugh'd; retreated, then came up brave To the brink of the water, led on bytheir Queen. I69 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Again they retreated, again advanced, And parted the boughs in a proud disdain, Then bent their heads to the waters, and glanced Below, then blush'd, and tlihen laugh'd again, A bird awaken'd; then all dismayed With a womanly sense of a beautiful shame That strife and changes had left the same, They shrank to the leaves and the sombre shade. At last, press'd forward a beautiful pair And bent to the wave, and bending they blush'd As rich as their wines; when the waters rush'd To the dimpled limbs, and laugh'd in their hair. The fair troop follow'd with shouts and cheers, They cleft the wave, and the friendly ferns Came down in curtains and curves and turns, And a brave palm lifted a thousand spears. From under the ferns and away from the land, And out in the wave until lost below, There lay, as white as a bank of snow, A long and a beautiful border of sand. I70 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Here clothed alone in their clouds of hair And curtain'd about by the palm and fern, And made as their maker had made them, fair, And splendid of natural curve and turn; Untramell'd by art and untroubled by man They tested their strength, or tried their speed. And here they wrestled, and there they ran, As supple and lithe as the watery reed. The great trees shadow'd the bow-tipp'd tide, And nodded their plumes from the opposite side, As if to whisper, Take care! take care! But the meddlesome sunshine here and there Kept pointing a finger right under the trees, Kept shifting the branches and wagging a hand At the round brown limbs on the border of sand, And seem'd to whisper, Ho! what are these? The gold-barr'd butterflies to and fro And over the waterside wander'd and wove As heedless and idle as clouds that rove And drift by the peaks of perpetual snow. A monkey swung out from a bough in the skies, I7I ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. WVhite-whisker'd and ancient, and wisest of all Of his populous race, and he heard them call And he watch'd them long, with his head side wise, From under his brows of amber and brown, All patient and silent, and never once stirr'd; Then he shook his head, and he hasten'd him down To his army below and said never a word. I72 PART IV. THE'RE is nmany CL love int the land, my love, Butt never a love like this is; Then kill mne dead with your lofve, my love, And cover me up with kisses. Yea, kill me dead ind cover me deep IVhere never a soul discovers; Deep in yogas heart to sleep to sleep In the darlingest tomb of lovers. HE wanderer took him apart from the place; Look'd up in the boughs at the gold birds there, He counted the humming-birds fretting the air, And brush'd at the butterflies fanning his face. He sat him down in a crook of the wave And away from the Amazons, under the skies W'here great trees curved to a leaf-lined cave, And he lifted his hands and he shaded his eyes; 173 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And he held his head to the north when they came To run on the reaches of sand from the south, And he pull'd at his chin, and he pursed his mouth, And he shut his eyes, with a sense of shame. He reach'd and he shaped him, sad and slow, A bambo reed from the brink below; He lifted it then and began to blow As if to himself; as the sea sometimes Does soothe and soothe in a low, sweet song, WVhen his rage is spent, and the beach swells strong \With sweet repetitions of alliterate rhymes. The echoes blew black from the indolent land; Silent and still sat the tropical bird, And only the sound of the reed was heard, \. the Amazons ceased from their sports on the sand. They rose from the wave, and inclining the head, They listen'd intent, wvith the delicate tip I74 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Of the finger touch'd to the pouting lip, Till the brown Queen turn'd in the tide, and led Through the opaline lake, and under the shade, To the shore where the chivalrous singer played. He bended his head and he shaded his eyes As well as he might with his lifted fingers, And ceased to sing. But in mute surprise He saw them linger as a child that lingers Allured by a song thrown down through the street, And looks bewilder'd about from its play, For the last loved notes that fall at its feet; And as he heard them whisper, he felt them sway Aside and before all silent and sweet. But the singer was vexed; he averted his head; I-e lifted his eyes to the mosses aside For a brief, little time; but they turn'd to the tide In spite of his will, or of prayers well said. He press'd four fingers against each lid, I75 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Till the light was gone; yet for all that he did It scem'd that the lithe forms lay and beat Afloat in his face and full under his feet. He seem'd to behold the billowy breast, And the rounded limbs in their pure unrest To see them swim as the mermaid swims, With the drifting, dimpled delicate limbs, Folded and hidden or reach'd and caress'd. It seems to me there is more that sees Than the eyes in man; you may close your eyes, You may turn your back, and may still be wise In sacred and marvellous mysteries. He saw as one sees the sun of a noon In the sun-kiss'd south, when the eyes are closed He saw as one sees the bars of a moon That fall through the boughs of the tropical trees, WVhen he lies at length, and is all composed, Andasleepinhis hammockbythe sundown seas. He heard the waters beat, bubble and fret; He lifted his eyes, yet forever they lay 176 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Afloat in the tide; and he turn'd him away And resolved to fly and for aye to forget. He rose up strong, and he cross'd him twice, He nerved his heart and he lifted his head, He crush'd the treacherous reed in a trice, With an angry foot, and he turn'd and fled. Yet flying he hurriedly turn'd his head With an eager glance, with meddlesome eyes, As a woman will turn: and he saw arise The beautiful Queen from the silvery bed. She toss'd back her hair, and she turn'd her eyes With all of their splendor to his as he fled; Ay, all their glory, and a strange surprise, And a sad reproach, and a world unsaid. She beat on their shields, they rose in array, As roused from a trance, and hurriedly came From out of the wave. He wander'd away, Still fretting his sensitive soul with blame, Until all array'd; then ill and opprest, And bitterly cursing the treacherous reed, Return'd with his hand on his turbulent breast, And struck to the heart, and most ill indeed. 12 177 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Alone he would sit in the shadows at noon, Alone he would sit by the waters at night; \Would sing sad-voiced, as a woman might, \With pale, kind face, to the pale, cold moon. He would here advance, and would there retreat, As a petulant child that has lost its way In the redolent walks of a sultry day, And wanders around with irresolute feet. He made him a harp of mahogany wood, He strung it well with the sounding strings Of a strong bird's thews, and from ostrich wings, And play'd and sang in a sad sweet rune. He hang'd his harp in the vines, and stood By the tide at night, in the palms at noon, And lone as a ghost in the shadowy wood. Then two grew sad, and alone sat she By the great, strong stream, and she bow'd( her head, Then lifted her face to the tide and said, "0, pure as a tear and as strong as a sea, Yet tender to me as the touch of a dove, I78 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. I had rather sit sad and alone by thee, Than to go and be glad, with a legion in love." She sat some time at the wanderer's side As the kingly water went wandering by; And the two once look'd, and they knew not why, Full sad in each other's eyes, and they sigh'd. She courted the solitude under the rim Of the trees that reach'd to the resolute stream, And gazed in the waters as one in a dream, Till her soul grew heavy and her eyes grew dim To the fair delights of her own fair Isles. She turn' her face to the stranger again, Ie cheer'd with song and allured with smiles, But cheer'd, and allured, and soothed in vain. She bow'd her head with a beautiful grief That grew from her pity; she forgot hecr arms, And she made neglect of the battle alarms That threaten'd the land; the banana's leaf Made shelter; he lifted his harp again, I79 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. She sat, she listen'd intent and long, Forgetting her care and forgetting her pain Made sad for the singer, made glad from his song. * * * * * * But the braves waxed cold; the white moons waned, And the brown Queen marshall'd them never once more, With sword and with shield, in the palms by the shore; But they sat them down to repose, or rcmain'd Apart and scatter'd in the tropic-leaf'd trees, As sadden'd by song, or for loves delay'd Or away in the Isle in couples they stray'd, Not at all content in their Isles of peace. They wander'd away to the lakes once more, Or walk'd in the moon, or they sigh'd, or slept, Or they sat in pairs by the shadowy shore, And silent song with the waters kept. There was one who stood by the waters one eve, i80 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. With the stars on her hair, and the bars of the moon Broken up at her feet by the bountiful boon Of extending old trees, who did questioning grieve; "The birds they go over us two and by two; The mono is mated; his bride in the boughs Sit nursing his babe, and his passionate vows Of love, you may hear them the whole day through. "The lizard, the cayman, the white-toothl'd boar, The serpents that glide in the svword-leaf'd grass, The beasts that abide or the birds that pass, They are glad in their loves as the green-leaf'd shore. "There is nothing that is that can yield one bliss Like an innocent love; the leaves have tongue And the tides talk low in the reeds, and the young And the quick buds open their lips but for this. I8I ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. "In the steep and the starry silences, On the stormy levels of the limitless seas, Or here in the deeps of the dark-brow'd trees There is nothing so much as a brave man's kiss. "There is nothing so strong, in the stream, on the land, In the valley of palms, on the pinnacled snow, In the clouds of the gods, on the grasses be low, As the silk-soft touch of a baby's brown hand. "It were better to sit and to spin on a stone The whole year through with a babe at the knee, With its brown hands reaching caressingly, Than to sit in a girdle of gold and alone. "It were better perhaps to be mothers of men, And to murmur not much; there are clouds in the sun. Can a woman undo what the gods have done? Nay, the things must be as the things have been." 182 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. They wander'd well forth, some here and some there, Unsatisfied some and irresolute all. The sun was the same, the moonlight did fall Rich-barr'd and refulgent; the stars were as fair As ever were stars; the fruitful clouds cross'd And the harvest fail'd not; yet the fair Isle grew As a prison to all, and they search'd on through The magnificent shades as for things that were lost. The minstrel, more pensive, went deep in the wood, And oft-time delay'd him the whole day through, As charm'd by the deeps, or the sad heart drew Some solaces sweet from the solitude. The singer forsook them at last, and the Queen Came seldom then forth from the fierce deep wood, And her warriors, dark-brow'd and bewilder ing stood i83 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. In bands by the wavae in the complicate screen Of overbent boughs. They would lean on their spears And would sometimes talk, low-voiced and by twos, As allured by longings they could not refuse, And would sidewise look, as beset by their fears. Once, wearied and sad, by the shadowy trees In the flush of the sun they sank to their rests, The dark hair veiling the beautiful breasts That arose in billows, as mists veil seas. Then away to the dream-world one and by one; Thle great red sun in his purple was roll'd, And red-wing'd birds and the birds of gold VVere above in the trees like the beams of the sun. Tl!e, the sun came down, with his ladders of gold BSuilt up of his beams, and the souls arose And ascended on these, and the fair repose Of the negligent form-s w,as a feast to behold. IS4 ISLES OF TIlE AMAZONS. The round brown limbs they were reach'd or drawn, The grass made dark with the fervour of hair; And here were the rose-red lips and there A flush'd breast rose like a sun at a dawn. Then black-wing'd birds blew over in pair, Listless and slow, as they call'd of the seas And sounds came down through the tangle of trees As lost, and nestled, and hid in their hair. They started disturb'd, they sprang as at war To lance and to shield; but the dolorous sound Was gone from the wood; they gazed around And saw but the birds, black-wing'd and afar. They gazed at each other, then turn'd them unheard, Slowtrailing their lances, in long single line; They moved through the forest, all dark as the sign Of death that fell down from the ominous bird. Then the great sun died, and a rose-red bloom I85 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Grew over his grave in a border of gold, And a cloud with a silver-white rim was roll'd Like a cold grey stone at the door of his tomb. * * * * * Strange voices were heard, sad visions were seen, By sentries, betimes, on the opposite shore, Where broad boughs bended their curtains of green Far over the wave with their tropical store. A sentry bent low on her palms and she peer'd Suspiciously through; and, heavens! a man, Low-brow'd and wicked, look'd backward, and jeer'd And taunted right full in her face as he ran: A low crooked man, with eyes like a bird, As round and as cunning,-who came from the land Of lakes, where the clouds lie low and at hand, And the songs of the bent black swans are heard; Where men are most cunning and cruel withal, I86 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And are famous as spies, and are supple and fleet, And are webb'd like the water-fowl under the feet, And they swim like the swans, and like pelicans call. And again, on a night when the moon she was not, A sentry saw stealing, as still as a dream, A sudden canoe down the mid of the stream, Like the dark boat of death, and as still as a thought. And lo! as it pass'd, from the prow there arose A dreadful and gibbering, hairy old man, Loud laughing as only a maniac can, And shaking a lance at the land of his foes; Then sudden it vanish'd, as still as it came, Far down through the walls of the shadowy wood, And the great moon rose like a forest aflame, All threat'ning, sullen, and red like blood. I87 PART V. WELL, we have threaded through and through The gloaming forests. Fairy Isles, Afloat in sun and summer smiles, As fallen stars infields of blue; Some futile wars with subtile love That mor:al never vanquish'd yet, Some symphonies by antgels set In wave belovw, in bough above, Were yours and nmine; but here adieu. And if it come to pass some days That you grow weary, sad, and you Lift up deep eyes from dusty ways Of mart and moneys, to the blue And pure cool waters, isle and vine, And bathe you there; and then arise Refresh'd by one fXresh thought of minie, I rest content: I kis, y?our eyes, I kiss your hair, in mWy ( -light: I kiss my hand, and say, "Good-night." May love be thine by sun or moon, May peace be thine by peacefull tvay Throutqh all the dar}liig days of May, Through all the genial da ys of June, To golden days that die in smiles Of sunset on the blessed Isles. 188 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. I TELL you that love is the bitterest sweet That ever laid hold on the heart of a man; A chain to the soul, and to cheer as ban, And a bane to the brain and a snare to the feet. Aye! who shall ascend on the hollow white wings Of love but to fall; to fall and to learn, Like a moth, or a man, that the lights lure to burn, That the roses have thorns and the honey-bee stings? I say to you surely that grief shall befall; I lift you my finger, I caution you true, And yet you go forward, laugh gaily, and you Must learn for yourself, then mnour.l for.,s ala. You had better be drown'd than to love and to dream, It were better to sit on a moss-grown stone, And away from the sun, forever alone, Slow pitching white pebbles at trout in the stream. I89 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. Alas for a heart that is left forlorn! Ifyou live you must love; if you love, regretIt were better, perhaps, had you never been born, Or better, at least, you could well forget. The clouds are above us and snowy and cold, And what is beyond but the steel grey sky, And the still far stars that twinkle and lie Like the eyes of a love or delusions of gold! Ah! who would ascend? The clouds are above. Aye! all things perish; to rise is to fall. And alack for lovers, and alas for love, And alas that we ever were born at all. The minstrel now stood by the border of wood, BIut not now alone; with a resolute heart HIe reach'd his hand, like to one made strong, Forgot his silence and resumed his song, And aroused his soul, and assumed his part \With a passionate will, in the palms where he stood. "She is sweet as the breath of the Castile rose, She is warm to the heart as a world of wine, I90 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And as rich to behold as the rose that grows With its red heart bent to the tide of the Rhine. "I shall sip her lips as the brown bees sup From the great gold heart of the buttercup! I shall live and love! I shall have my day, And die in my time, and who shall gainsay? "What boots me the battles that I have fought With self for honor? My brave resolves? And who takes note? The soul dissolves In a sea of love, and the lands are forgot. "The march of men, and the drift of ships, The dreams of fame, and desires for gold, Shall go for aye, as a tale that is told, Nor divide for a day my lips from her lips. "And a knight shall rest, and none shall say nay, In a green Isle wash'd by an arm of the seas, And wall'd from the world by the white Andes; For years are of age and can go their way." * * *.* * * * I9I ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. A sentinel stood on the farthermost land, And struck her shield, and her sword in hand, She cried, " He comes with his silver spears, \Vith flint-tipp'd arrows and bended bows, To take our blood, though we give him tears, And to flood our Isle in a world of woes. "He comes, O Queen of the sun-kiss'd Isle, He comes as a wind comes, blown from the seas, In a cloud of canoes, on the curling breeze, \With his shields of tortoise and of crocodile." * * * *k * Sweeter than swans are a maiden's graces! Sweeter than fruits are the kisses of morn! Sweeter than babes is a love new-born, But sweeter than all are a love's embraces. The Queen was at peace. Her terms of sur render To love, who knows? and who can defend her? She slept at peace, and the sentry's warning Could scarcely awaken the love-conquer'd Queen; 192 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. She slept at peace in the opaline Hush and blush of that tropical morning; And bound about by the twining glory, Vine and trellis in the vernal morn, As still and sweet as a babe new-born, The brown Queen dream'd of the old new story. But hark! her sentry's passionate words, The sound of shields, and the clash of swords! And slow she came, her head on her breast, And her two hands held as to plead for rest. Where, 0 where, were the Juno graces? \\Where, 0 where was the glance of Jove, As the Queen crept forth from the sacred places, Hidden away in the heart of the grove? They rallied around as of old,-they besought her, W\ith swords to the sun and the sounding shield, To lead them again to the glorious field, 13 I93 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. So sacred to Freedom; and, breathless, they brought her Her buckler and sword, and her armor all bright With a thousand gems enjewell'd in gold, She lifted her head with the look of old, An instant only; with all of her might She sought to be strong and majestic again: She bared them her arms and her ample brown breast; They lifted her armor, they strove to invest Her form in armor, but they strove in vain; It could close no more, but it clang'd on the ground, Like the fall of a knight, with an ominous sound, And she shook her hair and she cried, "Alas?! That love should come and that life should pass;" And she cried, "Alas! to be cursed... and bless'd, For the nights of love and noons of rest." Her warriors wonder'd; they wander'd apart, And trail'd their swords, and subdued their eyes To earth in sorrow and in hush'd surprise, And forgot themselves in their pity of heart. I94 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. " O Isles of the sun," sang the blue-eyed youth. " O Edens new-made and let down from above! Be sacred to peace and to passionate love, Mlade happy in peace and made holy with truth. "0 gardens of God, new-planted below! Shall rivers be red? Shall day be as night?" Then he stood in the wood with his face to the foe, Apart with his buckler and sword for the fight. But the fair Isle fill'd with the fierce invader; They form'd on the strand, they lifted their spears, Where never was man for years and for years, And moved on the Queen. She lifted and laid her Finger-tip to her lips. For O sweet WVas the song of love, to the sense new-born, That the minstrel blew in the virgin morn, Away where the trees and the soft sands meet. The strong men lean'd and their shields let fall, And slowly they moved with their trailing spears, 195 ISLES OF TIHE AMAZONS. And heads bow'd down as if bent with years, And an air of gentleness over them all. The men grew glad as the song ascend(led, They lean'd their lances against the palms, They reach'd their arms as to reach for alms, And the Amazons came-and their reign was ended. They reach'd their arms to the arms extended, Put by their swords, and no more scem'cl sacd, But moved as the men moved, tall and splenidid Mingled together, and were all made glad. Then the Queen stood tall, as of old she had stood, \With her face to the sun and her breast to the foe; Then moved like a King, unheeding and slow, And aside tothesingerinthefringe of the wood. She led him forth, and she bade him sing: Then bade him cease; and the gold of his hair She touch'd with her hands; she embraced him there, Then lifted her voice and proclaimed him King. i96 ISLES OF THE AMAZONS. And the men made fond in their new-found loves Cried," King and Queen!" and again and again Cried, " Long may they live, and long may they reign, As true in their loves as the red-bill'd doves: "Ay, long may they live, and long may they love, And their blue-eyed babes with the years in crease, And we all have love, and we all have peace, While the seas are below or the sun is above. "Let the winds blow fair and the fruits be gold, And the gods be gracious to King and to Queen, While the tides are grey or the Isles are green, Or the moons wax new, orthe moons wane old!" The tawny old crone here lays her stone On the leaning grass and reaches a hand; The day like a beautiful dream has flown, The curtains of night come down on the land, And I dip to the oars; but ere I go, I tip her an extra bright pesos or so, And I smile my thanks, for I think them due: But, fairest of readers, now what think you? I97 THOU To-morrow! Mystery! day that ever runs before! fhlat has thine hidden hand in store For mine, To-morrow, and for me? O thou To-morrow! what hast thou In store to make me bear the now. O day in which we shall forget The tangled troubles of to-day! O day that laughs at duazs, at debt! 0 day of promises to pay! O shelter front a7l present storm! O day in which we shall reform! O days of all days to reform! Convenient day of promises! Hold back the shadow7 of the storm. Let not thy mystery be less, O bless'd To-morrow! chiefest friend, But lead us blindfold to the end. 198 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. PART I. "And full these truths eternal O'er the yearning spirit steal, That the real is the ideal, And the ideal is the real." HE was damn'd with the dower of beauty, she Had gold in shower by shoulder or brow. Her feet! why, her two blessed feet, so small, They could nest in this hand. How queenly tall, How gracious, how grand! She was all to me,My present, my past, my eternity! She but lives in my dreams. I behold her now By shoreless waters that flow'd like a sea At her feet where I sat; her lips push'd out In brave, warm welcome of dimple and pout! 'Twas cons agone. By that river that ran 199 '0THIE IDEAL AND TIIE REAL. All fathomless, echoless, limitless, on, And shloreless, and peopled with never a man, WVe met, soul to soul.... No land; yet I think There were willows and lilies that lean'd to drink. The stars they were seal'd and the moons were gone. The wide shliling circles that girdled that world, They were distant and dim. And an incense curl'd In vapory folds from that river that ran All shloreless, with never the presence of man. How sensuous the night; how soft was the sound Of her voice on the night! How warm was her breath In that world that had never yet tasted of death Or forbidden sweet fruit!.... In that far pro found \V' (\-ere camped on the edges of god-land. We \V-cre- the people of Saturn. The watery fields, Th w-idle-wing'd, dolorous birds of the sea, Thley acliknoledged but us. Our brave battle shields 200 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. \Vere my naked white palms; our food it was love. Our roof was the fresco of gold belts above. How turn'd she to me where that wide river ran, With its lilies and willows and watery reeds, And heeded as only your true love heeds!.... How tender she was, and how timid she was! But a black-hoofed beast, with the head of a man, Stole down where she sat at my side, and began To puff his tan cheeks, then to play, then to pause, \Vith his double-reed pipe; then to play and to play As never played man since the world began, And never shall play till the judgement day. I-ow he puff'd! how he play'd! Then adown the dim shiore, This half-devil man, all hairy and black, Did dance with his hoofs in the sand, looking back 20I THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. As his song died away....She turned never mnore Unto me after that. She rose, and she pass'd Right on from my sight. Then I followed as fast As a true love could follow. But ever before Like a spirit she fled. How vain and how far Did I follow my beauty, red belt to white statr! Through foamy white sea, unto storm stricken shore! How long I did follow! My pent soul of fire It did feed on itself. I fasted, I cried; Was tempted by many. Yet still I denied The touch of all things, and kept my desire... I stood by the lion of St. Mark in that hour Of Venice when gold of the sunset is roll'd From cloqd to cathedral, from turret to tower, In matchless, magnificent garments of gold; Then I knew she was near; yet I had not known Her form or her face since the red stars were sown. We two had been parted-God pity us!-when This world was unnamed and all heaven was dim; 202 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. \WVe two had been parted far back on the rim And the outermost border of heaven's red bars; We two had been parted ere the meeting of men, Or God had set compass on spaces as yet; We two had been parted ere God had once set His finger to spinning the purple with stars,And now at the last in the golden fret Of the sun of Venice, we two had met. Where the lion of Venice, with brows a-frown, With tossed mane tumbled, and teeth in air, Looks out in his watch o'er the watery town, With a paw half lifted, with claws half bare, By the blue Adriatic, on the edge of the sea, I saw her. I knew her, but she knew not me. I had found her at last! Why I, I had sail'd The antipodes through, had sought, and lhad hail'd All flags; I had climbed where the storm clouds curl'd, And call'd o'er the awful arch'd domes or the world. I but saw her one moment, then fell back abash'd, 203 204 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. And fill'd to the throat... Then turn'd me once more, Thanking God in my soul, while the level sun flashed Happy halos about her.... Her breast! why, her breast WVas white as twin pillows that lure you to rest. Her sloping limbs moved like to melodies told, As she rose from the sea, and threw back the gold Of her glorious hair, and set face to the shore. I knew her! I knew her, though we had not met Since the red stars sang to the sun's first set! How long I had sought her! I had hunger'd, nor ate Of any sweet fruits. I had followed not one Of all the fair glories grown under the sun. I had sought only her. Yes, I knew well that she Had come upon earth, and stood waiting for me Somewhere by my way. But the pathways of Fate They had led otherwhere;' the round world round, THE IDEAL AND THE REAL,. The far North seas and the near profound Had fail'd me for aye. Now I stood by that sea \Vhere she bathed in herbeauty, God, I and she! I spake not, but caught at my breath; I did raise Ily face to fair heaven to give God praise That at last, ere the ending of Time, we have met, Had touch'd upon earth at the same sweet place... Yea, we never had met since creation at all; Never, since ages ere Adam's fall, Had we two met in that hunger and fret Where two feast as one, but had wander'd through space; Through space, and through spheres, as some bird that hard fate Gives a million glad Springs but never one mate. Was it well with my love? Was she true? Was she brave With virtue's own valor? Was she waiting for me? Oh, how fared my love? Had she home? had she bread? 205 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Had she known but the touch of the warm temrnper'd wave? Was she born upon earth with a crown on her head, Or born, like myself, but a dreamer instead?. So long it had been! So long! Why, the sea That wrinkled and surly, old, time-temper'd slave Had been born, had his revels, grown wrinkled and hoar Since I last saw my love on that uttermost shore. Oh, how fared my love? Once I lifted my face, And I shook back my hair and look'd out on the sea; I press'd my hot palms as I stood in my place, And I cried "Oh, I come like a king to your side Though all hell intervene!"... "Hist! she may be a bride, A mother at peace, with sweet babes on her knee! A babe at her breast and a spouse at her side!Have I wander'd too long, and has Destiny 206 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Set mortal between us?" I buried my face In my hands, and I moan'd as I stood in my place. 'Twas her year to be young. She was tall, she was fair — Was she pure as the snow on the Alps over there? 'Twas her year to be young. She was queenly and tall; And I felt she was true, as I lifted my face And saw her press down her rich robe to its place, With a hand white and small as a babe's with a doll. And her feet! why, her feet in tihe white shin ing sand Were so small,'twas a wonder the maiden could stand. Then she push'd back her hair with a round hand that shone And flash'd in the light with a white starry stone. Then my love she is rich! My love she is fair! Is she pure as the snow on the Alps over there? She is gorgeous with wealth! "Thank God, she has bread," 207 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. I said to myself. Then I humbled my head In gratitude deel). Then I question'd me where Was her palace, her parents? What name did she bear? What mortal on earth came nearest her heart? Who touch'd the small hand till it thrill'd to a smart? Twas her year to be young. She was proud, she was fairWas she pure as the snow on the Alps overthere? She loosen'd her robe that was blue like the sea, And silken and soft as a baby's new born. And my heart it leap'd light as the sunlight at morn At the sight of my love in her proud purity, \s she rose like a Naiad half-robed from the sea. Then careless and calm as a queen can be, She loosed and let fall all the raiment of blue, As she drew a white robe in a melody Of moving white limbs, while between the two, Like a rift in a cloud, shone her fair form through. Soon she turn'd, reach'd a hand; then a tall gon dolier 208 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Who had lean'd on his oar, like a long lifted spear, Shot sudden and swift and all silently, And drew to her side as she turn'd from the tide. It was odd, such a thing, and I counted it queer That a princess like this, whether virgin orbride, Should abide thus apart as she bathed in the sea; And I shook back my hair, and so unsatisfied! That I flutter'd the doves that were perch'd close about, As I strode up and down in dismay and in doubt. Swift she stept in the boat on the borders of night As a goddess might stand on that far wonder land Of eternal sweet life, which men mis-name Death. I turn'd to the sea, and I caught at my breath As she sat in the boat, and her white baby hand Held vestments of purple to her throat, snowy white. Then the gondola shot, shot sharp from the shore: 14 209 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL,. There was never the sound of a song or of oar, sBut the doves hurried home in white clouds to Saint Mark, Where the brass horses plunged their high manes in the dark. Then I cried, cried: " Follow her! Follow her! Fast! Come, thrice double fare, if you follow her true To her own palace door!" There was plashing of oar And rattle of rowlock.... I sat leaning low, Looking far in the dark, peering out as we sped With my soul all alert, bending down, leaning so. But only the oaths of the men as we pass'd, When we jostled them sharp as we sudden shot through The watery town. Then a deep, distant roarThe rattle of rowlock, the rush of the oar. We rock'd and we rode: then the oars keeping pace Gave stroke for short stroke in the swift stormy chase. 210 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. I lifted my face, and lo! far, fitfully The heavens breathed lightning: it did lift and fall As if angels were parting God's curtains. Then deep And indolent-like, and as if half asleep, As if half made angry to move at all, The thunder moved. It confronted me. It stood like an avalanche poised on a hill, I saw its black brows. I heard it stand still. The pent sea throbb'd as if rack'd with pain. Then the black clouds rose and suddenly rode, As a fiery rider that knows no rein, Right into the town. Then the thunder strode As a giant striding from star unto star, Then turn'd upon earth and frantically came, Shaking the hollow heaven. And far And near red lightning in ribbon and skein Did seam and furrow the cloud with flame, And write upon heaven Jehovah's name. Then lightnings came weaving like shuttle cocks, Weaving black raiment out of clouds for death. 2II THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. The doves have swept to Saint Marco in flocks, And mantled men hied them with gather'd breath. Black gondolas gathered as never before, And drew like crocodiles up on the shore; And vessels at sea stood further at sea, And seamen haul'd with a bended knee, And canvas came down to left and to right, Till ships stood stripp'd as if stripp'd for fight! Yet on! on! on where a huge house loomed With its four walls wash'd by the foamy sea; 'Twas the place where Shelley once loved to be. I heard in the heavens the howl of the doomed! High up in the dark I did hear men shout; And I lifted my eyes as the lightnings fell, And I saw hands thrust through the bars; oh, well I knew'twas the madhouse howling at me; So doleful, so lorn! Like a land cast out, And awful as Lucifer throned in hell. Then an oath. Then a prayer. Then a gust with rents Through the yellow sail'd fishers. Then sud denly 212 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Came sharp fork'd fire! Then again thunder fell Like the great first gun! Ah, then there was rout Of ships like the breaking of regiments, And shouts as if hurled from an upper hell. Then tempest! It lifted, it spun us about, Then shot us ahead through the hills of the sea As if a steel arrow shot shoreward in warsThen the storm split open till I saw the blown stars. On! on! through the foam! through the storm! through the town! She was gone! She was lost in the wilderness Of palaces, lifting their marbles of snow. I stood in my gondola. Up and all down WVe pushed through the surge of the salt-flood street Above and below....'Twas only the beat Of the sea's sad heart.... Then I listened. But oh, 'Twvas the water-rat building, and nothing but that; 213 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Not even the sea-bird screaming distress, As she lost her way in that wilderness. I listen'd all night. I caught at each sound; I clutch'd and I caught as a man that drown'd —Only the sullen, low growl of the sea Far out the flood-street at the edge of the ships: Only the billow slow licking his lips, Like a dog that lay crouching there watching for meGrowling and showing white teeth all the night, Reaching his neck and as ready to bite: Only the waves with their salt-flood tears Sad fawning white stones of a thousand years. Only night birds in the loftiness Of column and dome and of glittering spire That thrust to heaven and held the fire Of the thunder still; the bird's distress As he struck his wings in that wilderness, On marbles that speak, and thrill, and in spire. The night below and the night above; The water-rat building, the startled white dove. 214 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. The wide-wing'd, dolorous, night-bird's call, The water-rat building,-but that was all. Silently, slowly, all up and all down, I row'd and I row'd me for many an hour, By beetling palace and toppling tower, In the dark and the deep of the watery town. Only the water-rat building by stealth, Only the night-bird astray in his flight As he struck his wings in the clouds of night, On spires that sprang from old Adria's wealth; On marbles that move with their eloquence, On statues so sweeter than utterance. Then, pushing the darkness from pillar to post, The morning came sullen and grey like a ghost Slow up the canal. I lean'd from the prow, And listen'd. Not even the bird in distress Screaming above through the wilderness; Not even the stealthy old water-rat now. Only the bell in the fisherman's tower, Slow tolling at sea and telling the hour To kneel to their sweet Santa Barbara For tawny fishers at sea, and to pray. 215 PART I I. IGH over my head, carved cornice, quaint . spire. And ancient built palaces knock'd their grey brows Together and frown'd. Then slow-creeping SCOws Scraped the walls on each side. Above me the fire Of sudden-born morning came flaming in bars; WVhile up through the chasm I could count the stars. Oh, pity! Such ruin! The dank smell of death Crept up the canal: I could scarce take my breath! 'Twas the fit place for pirates, for women who keep Contagion of bodyand soulwherethey sleep... G-ecat heavens! A white hand now beckon'd to llme !li-oti all old mouldy door, almost in my rcacll. '16 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. I sprang to the sill as one wrecked to a beach; I sprang with wide arms: it was she! it was she! And in such a damn'd place! And what was her trade? To think I had follow'd so faithful, so far From eternity's brink, then from star to white star, To find her, to find her, nor wife nor sweet maid! To find her a shameless poor creature of shame, A nameless, lost body, men hardly dared name. All alone in her shame, on that damp dismal floor She stood to entice me.... I bow'd me before All-conquering beauty. I call'd her my queen. I told her my love as I proudly had told MIy love had I found her as pure as pure gold. I reach'd her my hand, as fearless a man As man fronting cannon. I cried, "Hasten forth To the sun! There are lands to the south, to the north, Anywhere you will. Dash the shame from your brow; 2I7 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Come with me, for ever; and come with me now!" Why, I had turn'd pirate for her! I had seen Ships burn'd from the seas, like to stubble from field. Would I turn from her now? Why should I now yield, When she needed me most? Had I found her a queen, And beloved by the world,-why, what had I done? I had woo'd, and had woo'd, and had woo'd till I won! Then, if I had loved her with gold and fair fame, Would not I now love her, and love her the same? My soul hath a pride. I would tear out my heart And cast it to dogs, could it play a dog's part. I told her all things. Her brow took a frown; Her grand Titan beauty, so tall, so serene, The one perfect woman, mine own idol queen 2i8 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. Her proud swelling bosom, it broke up and down As she spake, and she shook in her soul as she said, With her small hands held to her bent, aching head: "Go back to the world! go back and alone! You know naught of all; shame and death mine own! " I said: "I will wait! I will wait in the pass Of death, until Time He shall break his glass. '-Don't you know me, my bride of the wide worlds of zone? Why, don't you remember the white milky-way Of stars, that we traversed the cons before?.. We were counting the colors, we were naming the seas Of the vaster ones. You remember the trees That sway'd in the cloudy white heavens, aid bore Bright crystals of sweets, and the sweet manna dew? Why, you smile as you weep, you remember, and you, 219 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. You know me! You know me! You know me! Yea, You know me as if'twere but yesterday! "Now, here in the lands where the gods did love, Where the white Europa was won,-she rode Her milk-white bull through these same warm seas,Yes, here in the land where the Hercules, With the lion's heart and the heart of the dove, Did walk in his naked great strength, and strode In the sensuous air with his lion's skin Flapping and fretting his knotted thews; Where Theseus did wander, and Jason cruise,Lo! here let the life of all lives begin. "Yea! here where the Orient balms blow in, Where heaven is kindest, where all God's blue Seems a great gate open'd to welcome you,Come, rise and go forth, and forget your sin!" Then outspake her great soul, so grander far Than I had believed on that outermost star; And she put by her tears, and calmly she said, With hands enclasped and with bended head: 220 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. "I wvill go through the doors of death and wait For you on the innermost side of the gate." "It is breaking my heart; but'tis best," she said. "Thank God that this life is but a day's span, But a wayside inn for woman, oh, man iX night and a day; and, to-morrow, the spell Of darkness is broken. Now, darling, farewell! Nay, touch not the hem of my robe -it-is red With sins that your own sex heap'd on my head! Now turn, yea turn! But remember I wait Remember, in sackcloth, I shall sit down and wait Inside Death's door, and watch at the gate." "Nay, nay," said I, "love! go patient on through The course that man hath compell'd you to; Then come to your mother, the earth, my love; Let press to her bosom your beautiful brow Till it blends with her clay, and so purifies Your flesh of the stains you say sully it now; Lie down in the loam, the populous loam, Yea, sleep but a day with death; then rise As white, as light as the wings of a dove,And so made holy, oh love, come home! 221 THE IDEAL AND THE REAL. "Farewell for a night! And now, oh my love What thing on earth have I left to do? Why, I shall sweep down through death's gate as a dove, And wait for your coming your swift day throughYour brave soul commanded, lo! I shall obey. I shall sit, I shall wait for you, love, alway; I shall wait by the side of the gate for you, Waiting, and counting the days as I wait, Yea, wait as that beggar that sat by the gate Of Jerusalem, waiting the Judgment Day." 222 D0 TERRIBLE lion of tame Saint Mark! Tamed old lion with the tumbled mane Tossed to the clouds and lo t ia the dark, With high-held wings and tail-whipp'd back, Foot oa the Bible as if thy track Led thee the lord of the desert agaia Say, what of tha watch o'er the watery town? Say, what of the worlds walking up and down? 0 silent old monarch that tops Saint Mark, That sat thy throne for a thousand years, That lorded the deep that defied all men,Lo! I see visionis at sea in the dark; A4nd I see something that shines like tears, And I hear something that sounds like sighs, And I hear something that sounds as wheat A great soul suffers and sinks and dies. A DOVE OF ST. MARK HE high-born, beautiful snow came clown, Silent and soft as the terrible feet Of time on the mosses of ruins. Sweet Was the Christmas time in the watery town. 'Twas a kind of carnival swell'd the sea Of Venice that night, and canal and quay Were alive with humanity. Man and maid, Glad in their revel and masquerade, Moved through the feathery snow in the night, And shook black locks as they laugh'd outright. From Santa Maggiore, and to and fro, And ugly and black as if devils cast out, Black streaks through the night in the soft, white snow, The steel-prow'd gondolas paddled about: There was only the sound of the long oars' dip, As the low moon sail'd up the sea like a ship In a misty morn. Then the low moon rose, Rose veil'd and vast, through the feathery snows, 224 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. As a minstrel stept silent and sad from his boat, His mantle held tight in his hand to his throat. "Grim lion," said he, "grim guard of St. Mark, Down under your wings on the edge of the sea In the dim of the lamps, on the rim of the dark, Alone I sit down in your salt-flood town. O King on your column, all sullenly, Wrinkle your brows and tumble your mane! But the spouse turns not to his bride again.". Like a signal light through the storm let down, Then a far star fell through the dim profound. A jewel that slipp'd God's hand to the ground. The storm has blown over! Now up and then down, Alone and in couples, sweet women they pass, Silent and dreamy, as if seen in a glass, Half mask'd to the eyes, in their Adrian towri, Such women! It breaks one's heart to think. Water! and never a drop to drink! What types of Titian! What glory of hair! How tall as the sisters of Saul! How fair Sweet flowers of flesh, and all blossoming, 15 225 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. As if'twere in Eden, and in Eden's spring. "They are talking aloud with all their eyes, Yet passing me by with never one word. O pouting sweet lips, do you know there are lies That are told with the eyes, and never once heard Above a heart's beat when the soul is stirr'd? It is time to fly home, O doves of St. Mark! Take boughs of the olive; bear these to your ark, And rest and be glad, for the seas and the skies Of Venice are fair.... What! wouldn't go home? What! drifting, as drifting as the soil'd sea foam? "And who then are you? You! you so fair! Your sweet child-face is a rose half-blown, Down under your black and abundant hair?.. A child of the street, and unloved and alone! Unloved; and alone?....There is something then Between us two that is not unlike!... The strcngth and the purposes of men 26 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. Fall broken idols. We aim and strike WVith high-born zeal and with proud intent. Yet let life turn on some accident..... " Nay, I'll not preach. Time's lessons pass Like twilight's swallows. They chirp in their flight, And who takes heed of the wasting glass? Night follows day, and day follows night, And no thing rises on earth but to fall Like leaves, with their lessons most sad and fit. They are spread like a volume each year to all; Yet men nor women learn aught of it, Or after it all, but a weariness Of soul and body and untold distress. "Yea, sit sweet child, by my side, and we, \Ve will talk of the world. Nay, let my hand 1Fall round your waist, and so, let your face Fall down on my shoulder, and you shall be My dream of sweet Italy. Here in this place, Alone in the crowds of this old careless land, I will mantle your form till the morn and thenWhy, I shall return to the world and to men, 227 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. And you, no whit stain'd for the one kind word And some eagles of gold, my sad night bird. "Fear nothing from me, nay, never once fear. The day, my darling, comes after the night. The nights they were made to show the light Of the stars in heaven, though the storms be near..... Do you see that figure of Fortune up there, That tops the Dogana with toe a-tip Of the great gold ball? Her scroll is a-trip To the turning winds. She is light as the air. "Well, trust to Fortune.... Bread on the wave Turns ever ashore to the hand that gave. What am I? A poet-a lover of all That is lovely to see. Nay, naught shall befall.... Yes, I am a failure. I plot and I plan, Give splendid advice to my fellow-man, Yet ever fall short of achievement.... Ah me! In my life's early, sad afternoon, Say, what have I left but a rhyme or a rune. A hand to reach to a soul at sea, 228 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. Or fair, to forbidden, sweet fruit to choose, That'twere sin to touch, and-sin to refuse? "What! I to go home with you, girl, to-night? To nestle you down and to call you love? Well, that were a fancy! To feed a dove, A poor, soil'd dove of this dear Saint Mark, Too frighten'd for rest and too weary for flight. Nay, nay, my sister; in spite of you, Sister and tempter, I will be true.... Now here'neath the lion, alone in the dark, And side by side let us sit, my dear, Breathing the beauty as an atmosphere.... "We will talk of your poets, of their tales of love.... What! You cannot read? Why, you never heard then Of your Desdemona, nor the daring men Who died for her love? My poor white dove There's astory of Shylock would drive you wild. What! never have heard of these stories, my child? Of Tasso, of Petrarch? Not the Bridge of Sighs? Not the tale of Ferrara? Nor the thousand whys 229 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. That your Venice was ever adored above All other fair lands for her stories of love? "What then about Shylock?'Twas gold. Yes — dead. The lady?'Twas love.... Why, yes; she too Is dead. And Byron?'Twas fame. Ah, true.... Tasso and Petrarch? All died just the same.... Yea, so endeth all, as you truly have said.... And you, poor girl, are too wise; and you, Too sudden and swift in your hard, hard youth, Have stumbled face fronting an obstinate truth. For whether for love, for gold, or for fame, They but lived their day, and they died the same. "Let us talk not of death: of death, or the life That comes after death.'Tis beyond your reach, And this too much thought has a sense of strife.... Ay, true; I promised you not to preach.... My maid of Venice, or maid unmade, Lie still on my bosom. Be not afraid. 230 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. What! Say you are hungry? Well, let us dine Till the near morn comes on the silver shine Of the lamp-lit sea. At the dawn of day, My pale child-woman, you can go your way. What! You have a palace? I know your town; Know every nook of it, left and right, As well as yourself. For up and far down Your salt-flood streets, lo! many a night, I have row'd and have roved with a lady as fair As the face of heaven. Nay, I know well there Is no such a palace. What! you dare To look in my face and to lie outright, To bend your brows, and to frown me down? There is no such place in that part of the town! You would woo me away to your rickety boat! You would pick my pockets! You would cut my throat, With help of your pirates! Then throw me out Loaded with stones to sink me down, Down into the filth and the dregs of your town! Why, that is your damnable aim, no doubt! And, beautiful child, you seem too fair, Too young, for even a thought like that; 23I A DOVE OF ST. MARK. Too young for even black sin to dareAy, even the devil to whisper at. Nowv, there is such a thing as being true Even in villany. Listen to me: Black-skinn'd women and low-brow'd men, And desperate robbers and thieves; and then, Why, there are the pirates!..A....Ay, pirates reform'dPirates reform'd and unreform'd: Pirates for me girl, friends for you,And these are your neighbors. And so you see That I know your town, your neighbours: and Well, pardon me, dear,-but I know you lie. "Tut, tut, my beauty! What trickery now? Why, tears through your hair on my hand like rain! Come! look in my face: laugh, lie again Wi-hi your wonderful eyes. Lift up your brow, La,u7,h in the face of the world, and lie! Now, come! This lying is no new thing. As wsell, ay, better, than you or I... Tile wearers of laces know well how to lie. 232 I A DOVE OF ST. MARK. But they lie for fortune, for fame: instead, You, child of the street, only lie for your bread. ...."Some sounds blow in from the distant land. The bells strike sharp, and as out of tune, Some sudden, short notes. To the east and afar, And up from the sea, there is lifting a star As large, my beautiful child, and as white And as lovely to see as my lady's white hand. The people have melted away with the night, And not one gondola frets the lagoon. See! Away to the land —'tis the face of morn. Hear! Away to the sea-'tis the fisherman's horn. "'Tis morn in Venice! My child, adieu! Arise, poor beauty, and go your way; And as for myself, why, much like you, I shall sell this story to who will pay And dares to reckon it truthful and meet. Yea, each of us traders, poor child of pain; For each must barter for bread to eat In a world of trade and an age of gain; With just this difference, waif of the street, You sell your body, I sell my brain. 233 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. "Poor lost little vessel, with never a keel. Sore soul, what a wreck! LIo, here you reel, With never a soul to advise or to care: All cover'd with sin to tilhe brows and hair, You lie like a seaweed, well a-strand. Blown like the sea-kelp hard on the shale, A half-drown'd body, with never a hand Reach'd out to help where you quiver and quail: Left all alone so to starve and to lie, And to sell your body to who may buy. "My sister of sin, I will kiss you! Yea, I will fold you and hold youcloseto my breast. And as you lie resting in your first rest, And as night is push'd back from the face of day, I will push your heavy, dark heaven of hair Well back from your brow, and kiss you where Your ruffian, bearded, black men of crime Have stung you and stain'd you a thousand time; I call you my sister, sweet child, as you sleep, And waken you not, lest you wake but to weep. "Yea, tenderly kiss, and I shall not be 234 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. Ashamed, nor stain'd in the least, sweet dove, I will tenderly kiss, with the kiss of Love, And of Faith, and of Hope, and of Charity. Nay, I shall be purer and be better then; For, child of the street, you, living or dead, Stain'd to the brows, are purer to me Ten thousand times than the world of men, Who reach you a hand but to lead you astray.But the dawn is upon us! Rise, go your way. "Here! take this money. Take it and say, When you have well waken'd and I am away, Roving the world and forgetful of you; When you have aroused from your brief little rest, And find gold eagles nestled down in your breast, And rough men question you,-why, then say That Madonna sent them. Then kneel and pray, And pray for me, the worst of the two: Then God will bless you, sweet child, and I Shall be the better when I come to die. 235 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. "You must keep this money and buy you bread, And eat and rest while a year wears through. Then, rising refresh'd, try virtue instead; Be stronger and better, poor, pitful dear, So prompt with a lie, so prompt with a tear, For the hand grows stronger as the heart grows true.... Take courage, my child, for I promise you We are judged by our chances of life and lot; And your poor little soul may yet pass through The eye of the needle, where laces shall not. "Sad dove of the dust, with tear-wet wings, Homeless and lone as the dove from its ark,Do you reckon yon angel that tops St. Mark, That tops the tower, that tops the town, If he knew us two, if he knew all things, Would say, with your sins, you are worse than I? Do you reckon yon angel, now looking down And down like a star, he hangs so high, Could tell which one were the worst of us two? Child of the street-it is not you! "If we two were dead, and laid side by side Right here on the pavement, this very day, 236 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. Here under the lion and over the sea, While the morn flows in like a rosy tide, Atnd the sweet Madonna that stands in the moon, WVith her crown of stars, just across the lagoon, Should come and should look upon you and me,Do you reckon, my child, that she would decide As men do decide and as women do say, That you are so dreadful, and turn away? "If God's angel were sent to choose this day Between us two as we stand here, Side by side in this storied place,If his angel were sent to choose, I say, This very moment the best of the two, You, white with a hunger and stain'd with a tear, Or I. the rover the wide world through, Restless and stormy as any sea,Looking us two right straight in the face, Child of the street, he would not choose me. "The fresh sun is falling on turret and tower, The far sun is flashing on spire and dome, The marbles of Venice are bursting to flower, The marbles of Venice are flower and foam: 237 A DOVE OF ST. MARK. O child of the street, come turn you now! There! bear my kiss on your beautiful brow Thtrough earth to heaven: and when we meet Beyond the darkness, poor waif of the street, \Vhy, then I shall claim you, my sad, soiled dove; Shall claim you, and kiss you, with the kiss of love." 238 IL CAPUCIN. ONLY a basket for fruits or bread And the bits you divide with your dog, which you Had left from your dinner. The round year through He never once smiles. He bends his head l'o the scorn of men. He gives the road 1'o the grave ass groaning beneath his load. He is ever alone. Lo! never a hand Is laid in his hand through the whole wide land, Save when a man dies, and he shrives him home. And that is the Capucin monk of Rome. He coughs, he is hump'd, and he hobbles about in sandals of wood. Then a hempen cord Girdles his loathsome gown. Abhorr'd! Ay, lonely, indeed, as a leper cast out. One gown in three years! and bah! how he smells! He slept last night in his coffin of stone, This monk that coughs, this skin and bone, 239 IL CAPUCIN. This living corpse from the damp, cold cells. — Go ye where the Pincian, half-levell'd down, Slopes slow to the south. These men in brown Have a monkery there, quaint, builded of stone; And, living or dead,'tis the brown men's home, These dead brown monks that are living in Rome! You will hear wood sandals on the sanded floor; A cough, then the lift of a latch, then the door Groans open, and-horror! Four walls of stone Are gorgeous with flowers and frescoes of bone! There are bones in the corners and bones on the wall; And he barks like a dog that watches his bone, This monk in brown from his bed of stone He barks, and he coughs, and that is all. At last he will cough as if up from his cell; Then strut with considerable pride about, And lead through his blossoms of bone, and smell Their odors; then talk, as he points them out, Of the virtues and deeds of the gents who wore The respective bones but the year before. Then he thaws at last, ere the bones are through, 240 IL CAPUCIN. And talks and talks as he turns them about And stirs up a most unsavory smell; Yea, talks of his brown dead brothers, till you \Vish them, as they are no doubt, in —well, A very deep well.... And that may be why, As he shows you the door and bows good-bye, That he bows so low for a franc or two, To shrive their souls and to get them outThese bony brown men who have their home, Dead or alive, in their cells in Rome. VVhat good does he do in the world? Ah! well, Now that is a puzzler.... But, listen! He prays. His life is the fast of the forty days. He seeks the despised; he divides the bread That he begg'd on his knees, does this old shavehead. And then, when the thief and the beggar fell! And then, when the terrible plague came down, Christ! how we cried to these men in brown \WlienI other men fled! Who then was seen Stand firm to the death but the Capucin? 16 241 SUNRISE IN VENICE. SUNRISE IN VENICE. NIGHT seems troubled and scarce asleep; Her brows are gather'd in broken rest. A star in the east starts up from the deep! Tis morn, new-born, with a star on her breast, White as my lilies that grow in the West! Hist! men are passing me hurriedly. I see the yellow, wide wings of a bark, Sail silently over my morning-star. I see men move in the moving dark, Tall and silent as columns are; Great, sinewy men that are good to see, With hair push'd back, and with open breasts; Barefooted fishermen, seeking their boats, Brown as walnuts, and hairy as goats, Brave old water-dogs, wed to the sea, First to their labors and last to their rests. Ships are moving! I hear a horn,Answers back, and again it calls. 'Tis the sentinel boats that watch the town All night, as mqounting her watery walls, 242 SUNRISE IN VENICE. And watching for pirate or smuggler. Down Over the sea, and reaching away, And against the east, a soft light falls, Silvery soft as the mist of morn, And I catch a breath like the breath of day. The east is blossoming! Yea, a rose, Vast as the heavens, soft as a kiss, Sweet as the presence of woman is, Rises and reaches, and widens and grows Large and luminous up from the sea, And out of the sea as a blossoming tree. Richer and richer, so higher and higher, Deeper and deeper it takes its hue; Brighter and brighter it reaches through The space of heaven to the place of stars. Then beams reach upward as arms from a sea; Then lances and arrows are aim'd at me. Then lances and spangles and spars and bars Are broken and shiver'd and strown on the sea; And around and about me tower and spire Start from the billows like tongues of fire. 243 A GARIBALDIAN S STORY. A GARIBALDIAN'S STORY. Y,Av Signor, that's Nervi, just under the ,A~ lights That look down from the forts on the Genoese heights; And that stone set in stone in the rirfi of the sea, Like a tall figure rising and reaching a hand, Marks the spot where the Chief and his red shirted band Hoistedsail.... Havealight? Ah,yes! asforme I have lights, and a leg short a leg, as you see; And have three fingers hewn from this strong sabre-hand. "Look you there! Do you see where the blue bended floors Of the heavens are fresco'd with stars? See the heights, Then the bent hills beneath, where the grape growers' doors Open out and look down in a crescent of lights? 244 A GARIBALDIAN S STORY. Well, there I was born; grew tall. Then the call For bold men for Sicily. I rose from the vines, Shook back my long hair, look'd forth, then let fall My dull pruning-hlook, and stood up in the lines. Then my young promised bride held her head to her breast As a sword trail'd the stones, and I strode with a zest. But a sable-crowl'd monk girt his gown, and look'd down With a leer in her face, as I turned from the town. "Then from yonder green hills bending down to the seas, Grouping here, grouping there, in the grey olive trees, We watch'd the slow sun; slow saw him retire At last in the sea, like a vast isle of fire. Then the Chief drew his sword: there was that in his air, As the care on his face came and went and still came, 245 A GARIBALDIAN'S STORY. As he gazed out at sea, and yet gazed any where, That meant more, Signor, more than a peasant can say. Then at last, when the stars in the soft tempered breeze Glow'd red and grew large, as if fann'd to a flame, Lo! something shot up from a black-muffled ship Deep asleep in the bay, like a star gone astray: Then down, double quick, with the sword-hilt a-trip, Came the troop with a zest, and-that stone tells the rest. "Hot times at Marsala! and then under Rome It was hell, sure enough, and a whole column fell Like new vines in a frost. Then year follow'd year, Until, stricken and sere, at last I came homeAs the strife lull'd a spell, came limping back hereStealing back to my home, limping up out of hell, 246 A GARIBALDIAN'S STORY. But we won, did we not? Won, I scarcely know what Yet the whole land is free from the Alps to the seaAh! my young promised bride? Christ! that cuts! Why, I thought That her face had gone by, like a dream that was not. .... "Yes, peaches must ripen and show the sun's red, In their time, I suppose, like the full of a rose, And some one must pluck them; that's very well said, As they swell and grow rich and look luscious to touch: Yet I fancy some men, some fiends, must have much To repent of: this reaching up rudely of hand For the early sweet fruits of a warm, careless land; This plucking and biting of every sweet peach Ere yet it be ripe and come well to its worth, Then casting it down, and quite spoil'd, to the reach 247 6 248 A GARIBALDIAN'S STORY. Of the swine and the things that creep close to the earth.... "But he died! Look you here. Stand aside. Yes, he died Like a dog in a ditch. In that low battle-moat He was found on a morn. The red line on his throat They said was a rope.' Bah! the one-finger'd man Might have done it,' said one. Then I laugh'd till I cried WVhen the guard led me forth, and the judge sat to scan My hands and my strength, and to question me sore: '\Vhy, what has the match-man to do with all this,The one-finger'd man, with his life gone amiss?' I cried as I laugh'd, and they vex'd me no more. "Some men must fill trenches. Ten thousand go down As unnamed and unknown as the stones in a wall, A GARIBALDIAN'S STORY. For the few to pass over and on to renown: And I am of these. The old king has his crown, And my country is free; and what more, after all, Did I ask from the first? Don't you think that yon lights Through the black olive trees look divine on the seas? Then look you above, where the Appennines bend: Why, you scarcely can tell, as you peer through the trees, Where the great stars begin or the cottage-lights end! "Yes, a little bit lonely, that can't be denied: But as good place to wait for a sign as may be. I shall watch on the shore, looking out as before; And the Chief on his isle in the calm middle sea, With his sword gather'd up, stands waiting with me For the great silent ship. We shall cross to the shore Where a white city lies like yon Alps in the skies, And look down on this sea; and right well satisfied. 249 SIROCCO. "Have a light, sir, to-night? Ah, thanks, signor, thanks! Bon voyage, bon voyage! Bless you and your francs." SIROCCO. HERE were black clouds crossing the Alps, and they Roll'd straight upon Venice. Then far away, As if catching new breath and gathering strength In the A,gean hills, on the pall of the day, Stood the terrible Thunder. Then hip and thigh He smote all heaven, and the lightning leapt Like red swords thrust through the Night full length Ay! thrust through the black heart of Night as he slept! Then ribbon and skein kept threading the sky; Then, ere you scarcely had time to think, The sea lay darkling and black as ink. Then many a sail, tri-colored, and cross'd * By the lone, sad cross of Calvary, 250 COMO. Drove by us and dwindled to blinding specks; Drove straight in the grinning white teeth of the sea, Like lonesome spirits, forlorn and lost. Then a ship with my stars of the West! and then There were golden crescents, tall turban'd men All silent and devil-like, keeping the decks; Then hearse-like gondolas hurried about, As if sniffing the storm with their lifted snout. COMO. HE red-clad fishers row and creep Below the crags, as half asleep, Nor ever make a single sound. The walls are steep, The waves are deep; And if a dead man should be found By these same fishers in their round, Why, who shall say but he was drown'd? The lakes lay bright as bits of broken moon Just newly set within the cloven earth; 25I COMO. The ripen'd fields drew round a golden girth Far up the steeps, and glittered in the noon; And when the sun fell down, from leafy shore Fond lovers stole in pairs to ply the oar. The stars, as large as lilies, fleck'd the blue; From out the Alps the moon came wheeling through The rocky pass the great Napoleon knew. A gala night it was,-the season's prime. VVe rode from castled lake to festal town, To fair Milan-my friend and I; rode down By night, where grasses waved in rippled rhyme: And so, what theme but love at such a time? His proud lip curl'd the while with silent scorn At thought of love; and then, as one forlorn, He sigh'd; then bared his temples, dash'd with grey; Then mock'd, as one outworn and well blase. A gorgeous tiger lily, flaming red,So full of battle, of the trumpet's blare, Of old-time passion,-uprear'd its head. I gallop'd past. I lean'd, I clutch'd it there From out the long, strong grass. I held it high, 252 COMO. And cried: "Lo! this to-night shall deck her hair Through all the dance. And mark! the man shall die Who dares assault, for good or ill design, The citadel where I shall-set this sign." 0, she shone fairer than the summer star, Or curl'd sweet moon in middle destiny; More fair than sun-morn climbing up the sea, Where all the loves of Adriana are.... Who loves, who truly loves, will stand aloof: The noisy tongue makes most unholy proof Of shallow passion... All the while afar From out the dance I stood and watch'd my star, My tiger lily borne an oriflamme of war. Adown the dance she moved with matchless grace. The world-my world-moved with her. Sud denly I question'd whom her cavalier might be? 'Twas he! His face was leaning to her face! 253 COMO. I clutch'd my blade; I sprang; I caught my breath, And so, stood leaning cold and still as death. And they stood still. She blush'd, then reach'd and tore The lily as she pass'd, and down the floor She strew'd its heart like jets of gushing gore.. 'Twas /e said heads, not hearts, were made to break: Hc taught me this that night in splendid scorn. I learn'd too well....The dance was done. Ere morn We mounted-he and I —but no more spake.... And this for woman's love! My lily worn In her dark hair in pride, to then be torn And trampled on, for this bold stranger's sake!.... Two men rode silent back toward the lake; Trvo men rode silent down-but only one Rode up at morn to meet the rising sun. THE END. 254