Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson Part 18

I will divide my goods; Call in the wretch and slave: None shall rule but the humble.

And none but Toil shall have.

I will have never a n.o.ble, No lineage counted great; Fishers and choppers and ploughmen Shall const.i.tute a state.

Go, cut down trees in the forest And trim the straightest boughs; Cut down trees in the forest And build me a wooden house.

Call the people together, The young men and the sires, The digger in the harvest-field, Hireling and him that hires;

And here in a pine state-house They shall choose men to rule In every needful faculty, In church and state and school.

Lo, now! if these poor men Can govern the land and sea And make just laws below the sun, As planets faithful be.

And ye shall succor men; 'Tis n.o.bleness to serve; Help them who cannot help again: Beware from right to swerve.

I break your bonds and masterships, And I unchain the slave: Free be his heart and hand henceforth As wind and wandering wave.

I cause from every creature His proper good to flow: As much as he is and doeth, So much he shall bestow.

But, laying hands on another To coin his labor and sweat, He goes in p.a.w.n to his victim For eternal years in debt.

To-day unbind the captive, So only are ye unbound; Lift up a people from the dust, Trump of their rescue, sound!

Pay ransom to the owner And fill the bag to the brim.

Who is the owner? The slave is owner, And ever was. Pay him.

O North! give him beauty for rags, And honor, O South! for his shame; Nevada! coin thy golden crags With Freedom's image and name.

Up! and the dusky race That sat in darkness long,-- Be swift their feet as antelopes.

And as behemoth strong.

Come, East and West and North, By races, as snow-flakes, And carry my purpose forth, Which neither halts nor shakes.

My will fulfilled shall be, For, in daylight or in dark, My thunderbolt has eyes to see His way home to the mark.

VOLUNTARIES

I

Low and mournful be the strain, Haughty thought be far from me; Tones of penitence and pain, Meanings of the tropic sea; Low and tender in the cell Where a captive sits in chains.

Crooning ditties treasured well From his Afric's torrid plains.

Sole estate his sire bequeathed,-- Hapless sire to hapless son,-- Was the wailing song he breathed, And his chain when life was done.

What his fault, or what his crime?

Or what ill planet crossed his prime?

Heart too soft and will too weak To front the fate that crouches near,-- Dove beneath the vulture's beak;-- Will song dissuade the thirsty spear?

Dragged from his mother's arms and breast, Displaced, disfurnished here, His wistful toil to do his best Chilled by a ribald jeer.

Great men in the Senate sate, Sage and hero, side by side, Building for their sons the State, Which they shall rule with pride.

They forbore to break the chain Which bound the dusky tribe, Checked by the owners' fierce disdain, Lured by 'Union' as the bribe.

Destiny sat by, and said, 'Pang for pang your seed shall pay, Hide in false peace your coward head, I bring round the harvest day.'

II

Freedom all winged expands, Nor perches in a narrow place; Her broad van seeks unplanted lands; She loves a poor and virtuous race.

Clinging to a colder zone Whose dark sky sheds the snowflake down, The snowflake is her banner's star, Her stripes the boreal streamers are.

Long she loved the Northman well; Now the iron age is done, She will not refuse to dwell With the offspring of the Sun; Foundling of the desert far, Where palms plume, siroccos blaze, He roves unhurt the burning ways In climates of the summer star.

He has avenues to G.o.d Hid from men of Northern brain, Far beholding, without cloud, What these with slowest steps attain.

If once the generous chief arrive To lead him willing to be led, For freedom he will strike and strive, And drain his heart till he be dead.

III

In an age of fops and toys, Wanting wisdom, void of right, Who shall nerve heroic boys To hazard all in Freedom's fight,-- Break sharply off their jolly games, Forsake their comrades gay And quit proud homes and youthful dames For famine, toil and fray?

Yet on the nimble air benign Speed nimbler messages, That waft the breath of grace divine To hearts in sloth and ease.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is G.o.d to man, When Duty whispers low, _Thou must_, The youth replies, _I can_.

IV

O, well for the fortunate soul Which Music's wings infold, Stealing away the memory Of sorrows new and old!

Yet happier he whose inward sight, Stayed on his subtile thought, Shuts his sense on toys of time, To vacant bosoms brought.

But best befriended of the G.o.d He who, in evil times, Warned by an inward voice, Heeds not the darkness and the dread, Biding by his rule and choice, Feeling only the fiery thread Leading over heroic ground, Walled with mortal terror round, To the aim which him allures, And the sweet heaven his deed secures.

Peril around, all else appalling, Cannon in front and leaden rain Him duty through the clarion calling To the van called not in vain.

Stainless soldier on the walls, Knowing this,--and knows no more,-- Whoever fights, whoever falls, Justice conquers evermore, Justice after as before,-- And he who battles on her side, G.o.d, though he were ten times slain, Crowns him victor glorified, Victor over death and pain.

V

Blooms the laurel which belongs To the valiant chief who fights; I see the wreath, I hear the songs Lauding the Eternal Rights, Victors over daily wrongs: Awful victors, they misguide Whom they will destroy, And their coming triumph hide In our downfall, or our joy: They reach no term, they never sleep, In equal strength through s.p.a.ce abide; Though, feigning dwarfs, they crouch and creep, The strong they slay, the swift outstride: Fate's gra.s.s grows rank in valley clods, And rankly on the castled steep,-- Speak it firmly, these are G.o.ds, All are ghosts beside.

LOVE AND THOUGHT

Two well-a.s.sorted travellers use The highway, Eros and the Muse.

From the twins is nothing hidden, To the pair is nought forbidden; Hand in hand the comrades go Every nook of Nature through: Each for other they were born, Each can other best adorn; They know one only mortal grief Past all balsam or relief; When, by false companions crossed, The pilgrims have each other lost.

UNA

Roving, roving, as it seems, Una lights my clouded dreams; Still for journeys she is dressed; We wander far by east and west.

In the homestead, homely thought, At my work I ramble not; If from home chance draw me wide, Half-seen Una sits beside.

In my house and garden-plot, Though beloved, I miss her not; But one I seek in foreign places, One face explore in foreign faces.

At home a deeper thought may light The inward sky with chrysolite, And I greet from far the ray, Aurora of a dearer day.