Songs of the Mexican Seas Part 10

"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 When I became a banished thing!

"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.

"And when my own scant h.o.a.rd 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 p.r.o.ne 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!

"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-time 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:

"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 hair; They marvelled at my face of care.

"I tried to laugh; I could but weep.

I made these peasants one request,-- 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?

"Where is that one permitted spot?

Where is the one place man must fight?

Where rests the one G.o.d-given right To fight, as ever patriots fought?

"I say 'tis in that holy house Where G.o.d first set us down on earth: Where mother welcomed us at birth, And bared her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, a happy spouse.

"But when some wrong, some deed of shame, Shall make 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 G.o.d'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!

O lord and master of the soil, How envied in thy loyal bliss!

"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?

G.o.d'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 cannot 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!

"On! On! And oh the load I bore!

Why, once I dreamed my soul was lead; Dreamed once it was 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.

"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 s.p.a.ce, Nor all the drowning years that rolled Could hide from me her haunting face, Nor still that red-tongued talking gold.