A Wreath Of Virginia Bay Leaves Part 4

And as he shakes his helmet's snowy plume The landscape saddens into deeper gloom.

But yet ere many moons have flung to lea, To begging billows of the hungry sea, Their generous gold--like oriental queens-- A change will pa.s.s o'er all these wintry scenes; There'll come the coronation of glad Spring, Grander than any made for bride of king.

[Footnote 4: The statue was unveiled in a snow-storm.]

Earth's hodden grey will change to livelier hues Enriched with pearl drops of the limpid dews; Plenty will stand with her large tranquil eyes To see her treasures o'er the landscape rise.

Thus may the lover of his country hope To see again the Nation's spring-tide ope, And freedom's harvest turn to ripened gold, So that our world may give unto the old Of its great opulence, as Joseph gave Bread to his brothers when they came to crave.

But from his name I've paused too long you think?

Yet he who stands beside Niagra's brink Breaketh not forth at once of its grand strife; 'Tis thus I stand subdued by his great life--

And with his name a host of others rise, Climbing like planets, Fame's eternal skies: Great names, my Brothers! with such deeds allied That all Virginians glow with filial pride-- That here the mult.i.tude shall daily pace Around this statue's hero-circled base, Thinking on those who, though long sunk in sleep, Still round our camp the guard of sentries keep-- Who when a foe encroaches on our line, Prompt the stern challenge for the countersign-- Who with proud memories feed our bright watch-fire Which ne'er has faded, never will expire; Grand benedictions, they in bronze will stand To guard and consecrate our native land!

Great names are theirs! But his, like battle song, In quicker current sends our blood along; For at its music hearts throb quick and large, Like those of hors.e.m.e.n thundering in the charge.

G.o.d's own Knight-Errant! There his figure stands!

Our souls are full--our bonnets in our hands!

When the fierce torrent--lava-like--of bronze To mould this statue burst it furnace bonds, When it out-thundered in its liquid flow, With splendid flame and scintillating glow, 'Twas in its wild tumultuous throb and storm Type of the age which moulded into form The G.o.d-like character of him sublime, Whose name is reared a statue for all time In the great minster of the whole world's heart.

I've called his name a statue. Stern and vast It rests enthroned upon the mighty past: Fit plinth for him whose image in the mind Looms up as that of one by G.o.d designed!

Fit plinth in sooth! the mighty past for him Whose simple name is Glory's synonyme!

E'en Fancy's self, in her enchanted sleep, Can dream no future which may cease to keep His name in guard, like sentinel and cry From Time's great bastions: "It shall never die."

His simple name a statue? Yes, and grand 'Tis reared in this and every other land.

Around its base a group more n.o.ble stands Than e'er was carved by human sculptor's hands, E'en though each form, like that of old should flush With vivid beauty's animating blush-- Though dusky bronze, or pallid stone should thrill With sudden life at some Pygmalion's will-- For these great figures, with his own enshrined, Are seen, my Countrymen, by men, though blind.

There Valor fronts us with her storied shield, Brave in devices won on many a field; A splendid wreath s.n.a.t.c.hed from the carnage grim Is twined around that buckler's burnished rim, And as we gaze, the brazen trumpets blare With shrill vibration shakes the frightened air-- The roll of musketry--the clash of steel-- The clang of hoofs as charging squadrons wheel-- The hoa.r.s.e command--the imprecative cry-- Swell loud and long, while Fancy's eager eye Sees the stern van move on with crimson strides Where Freedom's warrior on his war-horse rides, Sees the great cannon flash out red and fast Through battle mists which canopy the past.

And solemn-fronted Truth with earnest eyes, Stands there serenely beautiful and wise; Her stately form in undisturbed repose, Rests by her well, where limpid crystal flows While on her face, which can severely frown, A smile is breaking as she gazes down; For clearly marked upon that tranquil wave Slumbers his image in a picture brave, And leaning on the fountain's coping stone, She scarce can tell his shadow from her own.

And Wisdom, with her meditative gaze, Beside its base her mighty chart displays; There with her solemn and impressive hand Writes as she stoops--as Christ wrote on the sand-- But what she traces all may read--'tis this: An invocation by our dreams of bliss-- By hopes to do and by our great deeds done, The war of sections thro' all time to shun-- She writes the words which almost seem divine, "Our deadliest foe's a geographic line!"

And Justice, with her face severely grand, Stands 'mid the group, her balances in hand: Faultless in judging trivial deeds, or great, Unmoved by love and unimpressed by hate.

Beside her gleams undimmed by spot, or rust, A mighty blade to strike when strike she must; And this bright falchion like that which defends The guarded gate where earth in Eden ends, With flame terrific and with ponderous sway Frightens each Brennus from her scales away.

And there we see pale, pleading Mercy bow, A troubled shadow on her saintly brow; Her fringed lashes tremulous with tears, Which glitter still through all the change of years: And as we see those tear drops slowly rise, Giving new softness to her tender eyes, Away the mists which o'er the dark past drift Are rent and scattered, while the sudden rift Shows, like some distant headland vast and dim Seen through the tempest, the great soul of him Who guarding against the native traitor, could Turn from her pleadings for his country's good.

And Honor last completes the stately group, With eye like eagle's in descending swoop, Fronted like G.o.ddess beautiful and proud When sailing on the "lazy-pacing cloud": Prouder her port than that of all the rest, With radiant forehead and translucent breast, She needs no gesture of supreme command For us to know her foremost of the band: They were his counsellors, she as the mind By which their promptings were in deeds combined-- In deeds which Fame, like fasces bears before The n.o.blest consul that earth ever bore.

Why are we here? It were a bitter shame To pay this homage to a hero's name, And yet forget the principles which gave His true defiance to oblivion's wave!

Aye! Sirs, remember when the day is spent, In Freedom's camp our soldier pitched his tent!

Maintain your own--respect your brother's right-- Thus will you praise Jehovah's belted Knight.

Are we Pompeians gathered here to-day, Gazing upon our last superb display?

Crowning the hours with many a festal wreath, While red Vesuvius bubbles underneath?

Oh! no, my Countrymen! This cloud must be The smoke of incense floating o'er the free!

No lava-flood can e'er o'erwhelm this land, Held as 'tis holden, in G.o.d's mighty hand.

And when the garlands of to-day are pale, Shall clang of armorers riveting our mail Rise in harsh dissonance where now the song In surging music sweeps the land along?

No, Brothers, no! The Providence on high Stretches above us like the arching sky; As o'er the world that broad empyrean field, So o'er the nation G.o.d's protecting shield!

His the great will which sways the tide of earth-- His the great will which giveth empires birth-- And this grand truth through every age and clime Is written out in characters sublime; But most we see the traces of His hand In the great Epic of our native land.

This new world had its Adam and he fled-- G.o.d's was the voice and G.o.d's the mighty tread Which scared the red man from his Eden bowers G.o.d's the decree which made the garden ours!

And Eden 'twas and such it still remains: Oh, Brothers! shall we prove a race of Cains?

Shall impious hands be armed with deadly things, Because we bring up different offerings Unto our altars? To the Nation's shrine I take my gift; my brother, take thou thine!

Again I ask: While this proud bronze remains, Shall this great people prove a race of Cains?

Here make your answer at this statue's base, Beneath this warrior's calm, majestic face; And here remember that your best applause To him is shown in standing by the Laws!

But if our rights shall ever be denied, I call upon you, by your race's pride, To seek some "West Augusta" and unfurl Our banner where the mountain vapors curl: Lowland and valley then will swell the cry, He left us free: thus will we live, or die!

One other word, Virginia, hear thy son, Whose filial service now is nearly done-- Hear me old State! Thou art supremely blest: A hero's ashes slumber in thy breast!

Oh, Mother! if the ashes of a king Could nerve to deeds with which Fame's trumpets ring, What glove of challenger shall make thee start, When thy great son lies sleeping on thy heart!

HOW IT FELL CALM ON SUMMER NIGHT.

My Lady's rest was calm and deep: She had been gazing at the moon; And thus it chanced she fell asleep One balmy night in June.

Freebooter winds stole richest smells From roses bursting in the gloom, And rifled half-blown daffodils, And lilies of perfume.

These dainty robbers of the South Found "beauty" sunk in deep repose, And seized upon her crimson mouth, Thinking her lips a rose.

The wooing winds made love full fast-- To rouse her up in vain they tried-- They kist and kist her, till, at last, In ecstasy they died.

A FRIEND OF MINE.

We sat beneath tall waving trees that flung Their heavy shadows o'er the dewy gra.s.s.

Over the waters, breaking at our feet, Quivered the moon, and lighted solemnly The scene before us.

He with whom I talked Was in the n.o.ble vigor of his youth: Tall, much beyond the standard, and well knit, With a dark, Norman face, from which the breeze Flung back his locks of ebon darkness which In rare luxuriance fell around his brow, That, in its ma.s.sive beauty, brought me up Pictures by ancient masters; or the sharp And perfect features carved by Grecian hands, In days when G.o.ds, in forms worthy of G.o.ds, Started from marble to bewitch the world-- A brow so beautiful was his, that one Might well conceive it always bound with dreams; His eyes were luminous and full of gleams, That made me think of waves wherein I've seen The moon-hued lightning breaking in the dark With sudden flashes of phosphoric light: His cheeks were bronze, his firm lips scarlet-hued.

The Roman's valor, the a.s.syrian's love Of ease and pomp sat on his crimson lips, Uneasy rulers on the self-same throne, Spoiling the empire of the soul within: Such was his face.

His thoughts went forth like emperors, and all His words arrayed themselves around them like Imperial guards.