Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 35

Ah, fair Lord G.o.d of Heaven, to whom we call,-- By whom we live,--on whom our hopes are built,-- Do Thou, from year to year, e'en as Thou wilt, Control the Realm, but suffer not to fall Its ancient faith, its grandeur, and its thrall!

Do Thou preserve it, in the hours of guilt, When foemen thirst for blood that should be spilt, And keep it strong when traitors would appal.

Uphold us still, O G.o.d! and be the screen And sword and buckler of our England's might, That foemen's wiles, and woes which intervene, May fade away, as fades a winter's night.

Thine ears have heard us, and Thine eyes have seen.

Wilt Thou not help us, Lord! to find the Light?

XXVII.

A VETERAN POET.

I knew thee first as one may know the fame Of some apostle, as a man may know The mid-day sun far-shining o'er the snow.

I hail'd thee prince of poets! I became Va.s.sal of thine, and warm'd me at the flame Of thy pure thought, my spirit all aglow With dreams of peace, and pomp, and lyric show, And all the splendours, Master! of thy name.

But now, a man reveal'd, a guide for men, I see thy face, I clasp thee by the hand; And though the Muses in thy presence stand, There's room for me to loiter in thy ken.

O lordly soul! O wizard of the pen!

What news from G.o.d? What word from Fairyland?

A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY.

A CHORAL ODE TO LIBERTY.

I.

O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame, Mother and maid, immortal, man's delight!

Fairest and first art thou in name and fame And none shall rob thee of thy vested right.

Where is the man, though fifty times a king, Shall stay the tide, or countermand the spring?

And where is he, though fifty times a knave, Shall track thy steps to cast thee in a grave?

II.

Old as the sun art thou, and young as morn, And fresh as April when the breezes blow, And girt with glory like the growing corn, And undefiled like mountains made of snow.

Oh, thou'rt the summer of the souls of men, And poor men's rights, approved by sword and pen, Are made self-certain as the day at noon, And fair to view as flowers that grow in June.

III.

Look, where erect and tall thy Symbol waits,[B]

The gift of France to friends beyond the deep, A lofty presence at the ocean-gates With lips of peace and eyes that cannot weep; A new-born Tellus with uplifted arm To light the seas, and keep the land from harm-- To light the coast at downfall of the day, And dower with dawn the darkening water-way.

[B] Bartholdi's Statue of Liberty in New York harbour.

IV.

_O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame,_ _Mother and maid, immortal, stern of vow!_ _Fairest and first art thou in name and fame,_ _And thou shall wear the lightning on thy brow!_

V.

Who dares condemn thee with the puny breath Of one poor life, O thou untouched of Fate!

Who seeks to lure thee to a felon's death, And thou so splendid and so love-elate?

Who dares do this and live? Who dares a.s.sail Thy star-kissed forehead, pure and marble-pale; And thou so self-possessed 'mid all the stir, And like to Pallas born of Mulciber?

VI.

Oh, I've beheld the sun, at setting time, Peep o'er the hills as if to say good-bye; And I have hailed it with the sudden rhyme Of some new thought, full-freighted with a sigh.

And I have mused:--E'en thus may Freedom fall, And darkness shroud it like a wintry pall, And night o'erwhelm it, and the shades thereof Engulf the glories born of perfect love.

VII.

But there's no fall for thee; there is no tomb; And none shall stab thee, none shall stay thy hand.

Thy face is fair with love's eternal bloom, And thou shalt have all things at thy command.

A tomb for thee? Ay, when the sun is slain And lamps and fires make daylight on the plain, Then may'st thou die, O Freedom! and for thee A tomb be found where fears and dangers be.

VIII.

_O sunlike Liberty, with eyes of flame,_ _Mother and maid, immortal, keen of sight!_ _Fairest and first art thou in name and fame,_ _And thou shall tread the tempest in the night!_

IX.

There shall be feasting and a sound of song In thy great cities; and a voice divine Shall tell of freedom all the winter long, And fill the air with rapture as with wine.

The spring shall hear it, spring shall hear the sound, And summer waft it o'er the flowerful ground; And autumn pale shall shake her withered leaves On festal morns and star-bespangled eves.

X.

For thou'rt the smile of Heaven when earth is dim-- The face of G.o.d reflected in the sea-- The land's acclaim uplifted by the hymn Of some glad lark triumphant on the lea.

Thou art all this and more! Thou art the goal Of earth's elected ones from pole to pole, The lute-string's voice, the world's primeval fire, And each man's hope, and every man's desire.

XI.